#i have so many long tags saying no 4 i think im just going to change the short simple ones

[lucabyte]

🐮

[lemongogo]

[pup-pee]

my father telling me how scared he was when i ran away from the house but i cant express how scared i was 2 b in the house

hey, whats up w/that?

[itsalwaysdark]

my tags on that went on for so long i had to go back and edit them to fit tag limit and i still had to delete a bunch of them. Its the autism it literally is

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[landososcar]

lover ; LN4

pairing(s) ; lando norris x swiftie!reader

summary ; in which y/n just wants to post pictures of her boyfriend, not expecting people to get the wrong idea

warnings ; smau, lots of fluff

note ; its 3am and i didn’t want to sleep til i finished this so idk what mistakes there probably is lmao😭 also just pretend the twitter stuff says 2024 i cba changing it all

instagram ; yourusername

liked by nando4lorris, carlossainz55 and others

yourusername i saw the dimples first and then i heard the accent 💓☺️

view all comments

user1 who are you

carlossainz55 you tagged the wrong account silly

yourusername you replied with the wrong account moron

nando4lorris you two aren’t slick

yourusename yeah ok mr nando lorris

nando4lorris you’re supposed to be on my side wtf

user2 i’m so lost 😭😭

user3 i’m confused someone explain

user4 babe everyone’s confused

user5 wait so is this carlos’ gf or not

user6 idk who you are but you’re hot as fuck

user7 ok i swear i’ve seen carlos wear that top in the 4th pic before

user8 yeah i think i’ve seen lando wearing it too tho

user9 but lando isn’t in this girls likes and comments

nando4lorris yeah guys you’re right she’s gotta be carlos’ girlfriend

yourusername nando4lorris fuck off i hate you so much 😭😭😭😭😭

user10 ????????

instagram ; yourusername

liked by landonorris, nando4lorris and others

yourusername i’d like to hang out with you for my whole life 🤗🧡

view all comments

user1 crying because lando liked on his main AND his burner (confirmed)

yourusername p.s. the tag in these pics is for PHOTO CREDS 😁

user2 LMFAOOO HER COMMENT

user3 girl said my mans is NOT carlos sainz jr🙅‍♀️

user4 i have so much to say

user5 the taylor love lyrics, the orange heart emoji, the flowers, the ladybugs, THE CAT CARDIGAN

user6 i think i would die for her

nando4lorris 🧡🧡

yourusername 🥰

carlossainz55 i thought you guys were still trying to be sneaky

yourusername carlos you’re the one making it hard to be sneaky

user7 oh it’s so lando

carlossainz55 oh well it’s been 4 years everyone already knew

user8 ITS BEEN WHAT JEHFKSKKS ????????

instagram ; landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and others

landonorris i’ve loved you (five) summers now honey but i want them all 😁😁

view all comments

user1 oh my god

user2 FIVEEEEE SUMMERS????? EVEN MORE THAN CARLOS SAID !/?;&2!@:9(

carlossainz55 i’m sorry i just guessed how many years because i didn’t know exactly just that its been a long long time

yourusername it’s ok carlos you were close

user3 SHES BEEN TO RACES AND NO ONES EVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT HER OH MY GOD

maxverstappen1 finally mate

oscarpiastri wooo secrets out 🥳

user4 he used a taylor lyric for the caption im gonna be sick

user5 if you zoom in on the second pic you can actually see me drowning myself in the background

ciscanorris1 💓💓

yourusername love you🥰

user6 wait i don’t have twitter can someone explain

user7 oh BABE you’ve got some catching up to do

yourusername my fav boy love you to saturn ☺️🧡

landonorris i love you more than you love taylor swift🥰

yourusername ok settle down babe don’t go too far

landonorris no sorry you’re right

user8 when he understands that ones love for taylor is never beaten >>>>>

user9 i need them biblically

user10 i still don’t understand how they hid her for 5 years lmfaoooo

user11 yourusername ok y/n but did he take you to the eras tour

yourusername he got us tickets for a uk show later this year 🥰🥰

user12 now, how’d that curly haired vroom vroom bitch pull HER

liked by landonorris!

my other works !

[oatmealwrites]

NSFW Holiday Hoes: [Frat JJK AU] Megumi x Reader

Holiday Traditions!

Vet Student! Frat Member! Megumi x F!Reader

Megumi's always been called the total scrooge of Christmas despite never having a stable family to celebrate the holidays with. Though this year he's hoping to make some good memories with you... even if you do drag him to go ice skating despite his protests.

note: reader and Megumi ARE IN COLLEGE. I will NOT write ANY nsfw jjk fics w the students unless they are aged up to their 20s.

Tags: porn with plot, friends to lovers, down bad Megumi, Yuji and Nobara cockblock, sweet toothache fluff at first, mentions of arousal & masturbation, megumi calls reader 'angel', oral [f receiving], female anatomy, p in v, protection used!, condom, missionary, legs on shoulders, aftercare, established relationship at end, MDNI, 18+

Holiday Hoes Masterlist

not totally proofread -> may edit later

Word count: 9.9k (im cooking again, maybe)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fluff of a certain white-haired dog sticks to your shirt as you read out the answers from the mock exam back to Yuji and Nobara who look more sullen with each question you reveal. Snacks and soft drinks litter the kitchen of the apartment and both of Megumi’s dogs circle the table like sharks waiting for stray scraps.

  Yuji places a firm ‘X’ on the last answer and throws his hands up in exasperation, “This is insane! Surely you’re reading the answer key wrong!”

  You look down at the paper before turning to the man on your right, handing Megumi the mock exam answer sheet and now carefully peeling tufts of fur from your shirt. Nobara compares her sheet with Yuji, silently cursing as she notices their tied score for 4/25. 

  “Nope, she did it right,” Megumi places the sheet of paper across from his two friends, “You two just failed. Again.”

  A pity giggle escapes your lips and Megumi looks over in your direction, the ghost of a blush on his cheeks before he returns a solemn face to the pair. 

  “Argh! This is impossible.”

“Really! The prof has to curve it!” “No one in the class is doing well either.”

“I heard people will file complaints for his lack of teaching.”

  Nobara and Yuji go back and forth spouting excuses for their poor scores, blaming everything and everyone but themselves for a lack of preparation.

  “Enough,” Megumi pushes back from the table and scratches the head of the large black dog at his feet before collecting the stray cans that had accumulated, “If you two fail this exam you’re going to be sitting for retakes.”

  The air is deflated from the two, and they immediately sink onto the table in worry and self-pity while you watch Megumi step on the pedal of the recycling bin and dump the aluminum inside. His hair is still messy from bed and his clothes are loungewear of university sweatpants and an oversized band sweatshirt from a concert Yuji and Nobara had dragged him to last semester. 

  “Ah it won’t be so bad! How many days do you have until the final?” You stand up and collect empty wrappers, silently passing them to Megumi in an effort to assist in the clean up.

  Nobara taps her finger to her chin, “Hmmm I think it mentioned it in the syllabus ... .Friday maybe?”

You stop short, “Three days!? And you just now began studying?”

  Megumi sighs and watches Yuji sheepishly play with the white dog’s fur, hiding behind the clouds of hair that fly up from the action, “I’m not surprised.”

  You wince and lift the answer key back up again, “Well I’m not much help considering our different majors, but I’ll keep reviewing the concepts with you until you have a better understanding.”

  Yuji and Nobara shoot up and raise their hands in gratitude.

  “Thank you!”

“So kind!!”

“I’ll do any favor you want.”

“Just say the words-”

  “–Hey,” Megumi points to the answer sheet with one long finger, his eyes narrowing at both of them, “Don’t take advantage of Y/N’s kindness. She’s willing to help you out but that doesn’t mean you can slack off the entire day and not take this seriously.”

  “I am taking this seriously!” Yuji shoots back, his eyes wide with passion and determination, “The resit exam is the same evening as the holiday frat function!”

“We can’t miss it!”

  Megumi nearly deflates from the response and resorts to picking up the TV remote and flipping through the channels in the connected living room, uninterested in any other argument that they have to offer. You turn back to Yuji and Nobara who are actively planning their evening plan for the function, the exam completely forgotten.

  “Do you guys have a party for everything?”

  Yuji snaps back and grins wide, “Yea isn’t it great? I heard Nanamin is making cookies for this one!”

  Nobara ‘oooos’ and begins recalling the best cookies her childhood friend had brought her from a trip to Tokyo while you sit at the table and reconsider your choices in life. Megumi slides the remote onto the kitchen counter and looks at the TV before standing next to you and breaking the commotion. 

  “If you two are going to be unfocused at least make this an honest break. Let Y/N and I also rest in the meantime.”

  You look up to him with a slight smile as if to say ‘thanks’ and turn back to Yuji who is already standing from the table and stretching. Nobara follows suit, opening her phone and scrolling a few times before checking the time.

  “Hey Yuji– let’s go to the convenience store. I’m hungry.”

“Huhhh? Didn’t you eat earlier?”

  Nobara shoots him a glare and Yuji raises his hands up in defeat, not wanting an argument to break out before the clock has even hit noon. You take this chance to stand up and stretch as well, a slight grumble emitting from your stomach. 

  “Why don’t we go by that new cafe that just opened up? I think it’s only a few blocks down the road and I’ve been dying to try it.”

  Yuji and Nobara exchange a glance between each other before turning to Megumi who holds their stare. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes hold enough to show a small indication to something only known between the three of them. 

  It’s not unfamiliar, the three of them are much closer to each other considering their shared time in high school, though the feeling is still as isolating as ever. You look between each of them, wondering what the inside reference could possibly be before Yuji speaks up and awkwardly scratches the back of his head, “Ahh that cafe? Maybe some other time Y/N… we’re just getting snacks for now.”

  You force your lips into a tight grin and nod once, trying your best to not let the feeling of disappointment be heard in your voice, “Oh ok. Pick me up a Red Bull and some chips?”

  Nobara smiles once and the two shuffle on their winter jackets before making a promise ‘it’ll only be 30 minutes’ and heading out of the apartment door. Megumi retreats back into the living and sits on the sofa while you take a moment to admire the coziness of the atmosphere. Yuji was the one who insisted their shared apartment needed to be decorated for the holidays and Nobara had offered to assist in setting up. Colorful winter lights are hanging along the border of the ceiling, small stockings that Jin had mailed Yuji hang under the TV using command hooks and push pins, and a semi-alive tree sits in the corner with every branch holding an ornament. 

  You walk up to the couch and sit on the other side of Megumi, shuffling around to look for a fallen throw blanket to cover your legs with. The dogs move to lay in their respective beds, enjoying the sunlight that comes pouring into from the windows for their midafternoon nap.

  “Are you cold? You can have a pair of my sweatpants if you need.”

You shuffle and pull the blanket over your leggings, the edge of your oversized JJK frat t-shirt from a function you assisted in running reaching your mid-thigh, “It’s alright, but I might need to take you up on a sweatshirt later though.”

Megumi smiles gently at you before peeling his eyes off yours and back to the TV which was now playing a cheesy Hallmark flic. The main love interests are currently holiday gift shopping for their mutual friend together, though it’s painfully obvious the male lead is beyond jealous. The cliche of it all is enough to make you roll your eyes, but before you can give a coy remark you catch Megumi’s stare at the screen. 

  His face is the same it usually is, attentive but uninterested, yet despite that he makes no move to change the channel or shut the TV off. Dark, nearly navy blue eyes, stare between the two characters almost longingly, as if he was watching something he could never have. 

  Though all other indicators of his body language show otherwise, feet planted on the ground as if he were to stand up at any moment and fingers twitching like he may reach for the remote again.

  “You don’t like this movie?” 

“Hmm–”, He turns and looks over at you for a moment, slightly pink from catching him off guard, before turning back to the TV. “Oh, more like I find it… unrealistic? Maybe that’s the word...”

  “Oh yea I agree. I mean who goes Christmas shopping with their crush for another guy? So cheesy.”

  Megumi furrows his brows and shakes his head lightly, his eyes not leaving the movie couple who are now arguing but show nothing but desire on their faces, “Sorry, maybe it wasn’t the best word. I guess unrelatable fits it better.”

  You don’t say anything instead of a slight ‘hmm’ for him to continue.

  Megumi sighs and shrugs his shoulders, motioning to the array of holiday decor scattered across the apartment but stopping short when his hand nearly reaches your direction, “I just don’t have the same association you guys do with this time of year. Holiday parties with friends and family, decorating trees with tacky music in the background, going on da-”

  He cuts himself off and stares at the screen for an extra moment before turning to you earnestly,  “Yuji always calls me a scrooge but… I just don’t see the point. It’s not like I grew up experiencing it.”

  Fuck. Great, just great. Try to make small talk and accidentally bring up family trauma. Another reminder to never go into the psychology or therapy majors. 

  “Oh, yea I guess that’s fair,” you snuggle into the blanket further and try your hardest to ignore the pouty form of his lips and the way his hair kisses the apples of his cheeks every time he moves his head. “Are you going to the frat function at least?”

  “Huh?” Megumi opens his mouth in awe and raises an eyebrow, “No way.”

“Really? You’re seriously not going?”

“Well..” he rubs the back of his neck annoyed, a slight twitch in his eyebrow, “Satoru is my big… I have no doubt he’ll try to drag me there anyways.”

  You giggle and the large white-haired dog stands up from its bed with a long stretch and quick shake before placing its head in your lap and waiting for attention. 

  “Could be fun~”

“Maybe..” Megumi mumbles as he watches your fingers run through the hair of his beloved pet, soft coos and kisses leaving your lips as you look at the dog with admiration. The same longing look creeps onto his face as he watches you, an almost pained expression as he listens to the soft praises he so desperately wants to hear be directed at him instead of the canine in front of you.

  “I guess I just don’t see why this time of year has to be any different than any other season..”

  You shrug, still petting the dog and scratching behind its ears, “I mean besides the vibes… it is colder. So better for staying close and warm?”

  Megumi pauses and stares at you with a slight blush before the implication of your words sinks in and you raise your hands in protest, “Not like that but I mean… It is cuffing season… which is unrelated! Hahah… when is Yuji back? It’s been 30 minutes right?”

  Your words are fumbled and rushed together while Megumi blinks slowly and gently grins, a warm glow on his cheeks, “Well, what do you like to do this time of year then?”

  You bring your hands down and rest them back on the fur of the dog, though your attention is still focused on Megumi, “Hmmm, ice skating?”

  “Ice skating? Sounds menial.”

“What? It’s super hard at first but also really fun!”

“It's just rollerblading on ice… how is that holiday themed anyways?”

  You pause and cross your arms, “Geez, you were the one who asked for my opinion..”

Megumi pauses for a moment and turns back to the TV for a split second, looking at the way the couple is now sharing a passionate kiss having revealed their true affection for one another. 

  “Let’s go.”

Megumi turns his attention back to you in slight shock, “What?”

“Let’s go ice skating. I’ll show you it can be fun.”

“I already know it won’t be. We can save the money for admission by agreeing to that now.”

  You roll your eyes and nearly give up on the idea, your heart slightly retracting at the borderline rejection and go to kiss the dog another light air-kiss. Megumi watches and sucks in a breath, “I mean.. I guess we can give it a try.”

  “Really?” Your eyes shoot open and your hand leaves the head of the dog to the armrest of the couch to support your body as you pivot to face him fully, “I’ll show you how fun it can be. I bet all of us will have a great time!”

  Megumi sinks back into his chair slightly, taking short glimpses at the TV couple with an uneasy expression now written on his face.

“All of us?”

“... I mean.. I thought you would want to invite Yuji and Nobra.”

  He takes the corner of his bottom lip between his canines and bites for a second, the white-haired dog now meandering over to him for attention and placing its head in his lap. Megumi pets it absentmindedly, lost in thought before turning to you, “I’ve already done decorating with Nobara and watched a million ‘classic’ movies with Yuji… if it’s alright I’d like to just do this with you.. And see why you like it so much.”

OH MY G-. stay calm. This is cool. This is totally chill and totally platonic. Right? right.

  “Yea, I’d like that.”

  Megumi smiles earnestly and an invisible weight can almost be seen lifting off his shoulders at your response. He nods once and turns back to the movie, your bodies still positioned close to each other and only separated by the thin fuzzy throw blanket. Despite the sunlight pouring in from the windows, the array winter lights reflect a warm rainbow of colors on his hair and the chill of the winter air makes you snuggle into the fabric deeper. Before he can open his mouth again there’s a shuffle in front of the apartment door and Yuji swings it open with Nobara following him closely. 

  “Alright guys! Got the goods!”

  Yuji kicks off his sneakers next to the shoe rack and shimmies out of his jacket while Nobara empties the contents of the plastic bag onto the kitchen table. Megumi sighs and stands up, waiting for you and folds the throw blanket once you rise from the couch. With a slight yawn you open the plastic folder on the table and take out the second mock-exam for the final before passing it to Nobara and Yuji. 

  Yuji lifts his pencil and stares at this paper with determination, “This time– we’ll pass it!”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

Friday comes faster than you expected, having been so busy assisting Yuji and Nobara with their exam review and running around various shopping malls to finish up last minute holiday shopping that the text message from Megumi indicating he could pick you up at 2pm nearly causes cardiac arrest. 

  He follows through on his promise, picks you up from your apartment promptly at 2pm, and raises an eyebrow when you suggest playing holiday music during the drive to ‘set the mood’. 

“Nonsense… Christmas..? Are you sure this is classic holiday music?”

“Yep! Listen to it every year.”

  Megumi shrugs as you two make small talk about campus events, future frat functions, and winter break plans; enjoying the company of each other and a slight burn on your cheeks from how easy everything seemed with him. After only 20 minutes he pulls the car into the parking lot of the ice rink and gives you one last look of ‘are we really doing this?’ before sliding out of the car and opening your door. 

  It’s busy but not overcrowded, the two of you only waiting about 5 minutes to pay admission, which Megumi insists on paying for you, and grabbing a pair of rental skates. The two of you walk to the edge of the rink and admire the ice for a moment; Megumi walks on the skates with perfect balance and grace making you wonder if he’ll be skating circles around you in no time. 

  You take to the ice first, sliding on it a few times before planting both skates and moving a few arm’s lengths away from the entrance and turning to watch Megumi. He stares at the ice and grips the edge of the wall, mirroring how you had felt the ice before pushing off with both feet towards the center. 

  You watch in awe at first at the way he glides further down the ice, before he lifts a leg to push off and immediately crashes down onto the rink. The ice pushes his body so he slides into the wall with a ‘thud’ and it takes all of your personal resolve to not immediately lean over and cackle.

  “Oh my– pfft-  Are you? Heheh Are you ok?”

“People find this fun?”

  You stand next to Megumi and offer a hand, which he wastes no time in taking, and pull him to his feet so he can balance against the wall. 

  “It’s fun to me.”

“Yea, probably funny watching me fall.”

  The cold air nips at your cheeks and nose, painting them a pale pink while you dust off some of the ice from his jacket; the moment is so wholesome you can’t even think about anything else besides the man in front of you and his lack of balance. 

  “Come on~ try again ok?”

Megumi sighs but listens regardless, pushing off the wall and immediately falling back down, scowling when a small child easily glides past him without any help at all. The cycle repeats a few times, and by the 4th time he falls, the confidence and patience in the activity is nearly drained. 

  “Ok, how about this?” You drag him up again, as you’ve been doing the whole time, but this time you don’t let go of his arm. “It seems like you prefer holding onto the wall… so why don’t you just hold on to me?”

  “Huh?”

  You skate outwards and drag his body off the wall, watching the way his face goes from flinching to fascination when he doesn’t immediately topple over. An arm wrapped around his bicep, as he always been this fit?, you gently guide the man down the ice. Megumi doesn’t miss the way your eyes are looking everywhere but him and the intense blush on your face that is surely mirroring his own; he swallows thickly and leans into your touch slightly, trying to memorize the way it feels to have you wrapped around his arm as if your bodies were made to fit together. 

  “See? Not too bad right?”

  Megumi looks down at you and grins, though holds his sarcastic tone for the bit, “Mmmm I guess it could be worse..”

  You gently nudge him and laugh while he lets out a few chuckles and matches moving his legs at the same interval as your own. A fast learner, you both manage to do an entire lap around the rink without falling over, though a few wobbles on a particularly beat up patch of ice causes his grip on you to intensify. 

  “You’re a natural.”

“Only able to do this because you’re here with me.”

  Looking up at Megumi it would be impossible to miss the way he’s staring at you, admiration and honesty on his face while his gaze swaps between your eyes and your lips. Excitement coursing through you now, your head subconsciously leans in when his hand dips from your shoulder to waist and pulls you closer into his body. 

  About to shut your eyes, your body jerks when the same small child from earlier glides right past Megumi, but close enough to make him flinch and stumble. In slow motion, he topples to the ground and drags you along with him, hitting the ice with a combined ‘thud’ as you land side by side and still wrapped into each other. 

  “I… I’m so sorry! Are you hurt-”

  Tears break from your eyes and laughter leaves your lips loudly without any care, the entire situation being too funny and cliche to elicit any other kind of reaction from you. Megumi chokes on his words and watches you with his eyes wide and lips parted; any resentment towards the annoying kid for ruining the moment instantly dissipates as he gets lost in the sound of your laughter. 

  “You’re ok?”

“Hmm?” You wipe a tear and sit up on the ice, Megumi's arms still wrapped around you as they were earlier to break to your fall, “Yea I’m fine. This is just part of learning and it’s hilarious.”

  His face is bright red and before he can lean in again, in an attempt to re-do the one thing he’s been aching to do for months now, a whistle blows signaling the end of the open session. Looking up at the time you wonder how 2 hours could fly by so fast before standing up and pulling your companion to his feet right after. 

  “What do you usually do after ice skating?”

You glide to a halt and step off the ice and onto the mats on the floor, offering Megumi a hand when he follows suit, “Hot cocoa? We can make some and watch a movie?”

  The man at your close side, closer than usual, slides out his phone and checks the time, “That sounds good. Yuji and Nobara are still on campus for a while.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Your lips hover above the rim of the mug, blowing steam away from the beverage before taking a sip and sighing at the familiar flavor. Another cheesy holiday romance movie plays in the living room while you lean against the kitchen counter and watch Megumi pour himself a hot chocolate. Silently you pass him the toppings—whipped cream, marshmallows, and chocolate syrup—while he raises an eyebrow at you and mumbles about ‘getting a stomach ache’ before adding them into his mug. 

  “So… how was ice skating? 1 through 10 ranking.”

Megumi winces at the sweet flavor of the beverage and leans his weight into the counter next to you, so close that the scent of his laundry detergent fills your senses. 

  “Well I did fall a lot..but,” he looks off with a slight blush and coughs slightly. “I guess it’s not so bad given the company.. Maybe a 6?”

  “I’ll take a 6. You know the more you do it the better you get? We can go again next weekend if you're free.”

  Megumi watches as you sip on your hot cooca, eyes lingering on the way your face lights up at the same flavor he can’t seem to digest without getting a toothache; he takes another sip regardless, wanting to experience it the same way you certainly were. You don’t pay any attention until the feeling of a paper napkin is wiping your cheeks at the whipped cream that had rubbed off against your face with your last sip. 

  Smiling up at Megumi and aching to slow your increased heart rate, you take the napkin and wipe off any remnant while he continues staring at you; lips part and close again as if he were constantly trying to start a sentence before backpedaling and remaining silent. This particular holiday movie in the background shows two friends attempting to make a gingerbread house, though their touches against each other are anything other than platonic. 

  Megumi watches it for a moment before inhaling slowly and resolving himself to finish what he keeps trying to start, “I want to do that again. Go ice skating with you again. But…”

  A deep breath escapes his lips and you internally prepare for rejection. 

  It’s fine… just happened to misread the situation. If he doesn’t want anything more… it’s just something to accept and move on… even if it hurts like a bitch. 

  “I have to come clean about this-” he places his mug on the counter and looks intently at you, “I accepted the offer as if it were something friendly… like two friends just hanging out,” you wince but he continues, “But in all honesty I wanted it to be different. For us to be different.”

  He pushes off the counter and moves forward to face you head on, “I’m sorry about my intentions… and lack of clarity for them but..” he pushes a chunk of his hair back in frustration at the way he keeps getting caught in his words and the strands fall right back into the same place, “I just can’t sit here with you drinking hot cocoa, watching movies, going ice skating and feeling you hold onto me and pretend to feel something platonic when the only thing I want is for us to be anything but that.”

  Huh? HUH?

  Megumi stands in front of you, waiting for anything to leave your lips at his words, and cringes at himself for the lack of clarity in the way he worded everything. The black-haired dog nudges into his leg waiting for a treat or some attention, but he stands motionless waiting for your response. 

  “I think I understand…and I feel the same. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t secretly wish ice skating was a date.”

“It could be.”

  You look up at Megumi who watches you with eyes full of a different kind of longing than they hold during the movie; his eyes watch you carefully as if at any moment you could back pedal and crush his vulnerable heart.  

  “What do you mean?”

“Well..” he takes the mug from your hands and places it on the counter next to his, “we can mark this one down as our first?”

  His voice is gentle and sweet, his eyes searching yours for reciprocation when you resolve to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him in for a kiss. There’s a slight sigh through his nose at the feeling, soft lips move against yours, and your hands tangle in his messy dark hair. You both break away for a moment, taking in the realness of the situation before connecting at the mouth once more and pulling each other in closer to solidify the mutual decision. 

  Tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss further, his lips move in sync against yours while his hands rest politely on your back. A whimper escapes his mouth when your hands leave from the mess of his hair and reach around to grab his knuckles and push down to rest his palms on your hips. The sound of his earlier disposition melts into a moan when he’s given permission to sink his fingertips into the flesh of your hips and waist, relishing in the moment he’s been dreaming of. 

  His hands massage the flesh and occasionally dip down just a liiittleee lower to grab at the upper curve of your ass; your lips break and reconnect with more force. With a slight tug on his hair and knead of your ass, his tongue pokes out to break a testing swipe across your bottom lip. Instantly you part open your mouth just a bit wider to feel the hot muscle of his tongue push against your own, teeth occasionally clacking from the awkward angle before you both find momentum. 

  Megumi hums into the motion, addicted to running his tongue against yours, savoring the sweet flavor of the hot chocolate. 

  “I don’t mind that much…” Megumi mumbles, breaking from the kiss for a short moment before reconnecting his lips and taking a firm squeeze of your flesh in his hand, “the taste of that sugary drink” kiss “isn’t bad when I’m tasting it off you..”

  Knees nearly weak at the comment and a blush intense across your face, you drag his face into yours with more pressure, trying to hide the embarrassment from his admission. He chuckles and pushes you into the counter further, chasing your lips before a firm sensation pushes into your pelvis and Megumi backs up awkwardly.

  Awkwardly pivoting and nearly tripping on the fluffy black dog that was sitting behind his feet, Megumi catches his balance and looks off to the side and brings his hands up in apology.

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean… I hope… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable..”

  You struggle to follow until your eyes trace past the worry on his lips and slight tremble of his finger tips before sinking further to the obvious erection straining against the fabric of his left upper thigh. He shifts his weight uncomfortably and shoves his hands into the pocket of his jeans, pushing the fabric up to avoid the obvious bulge that grows with the heightened sexual tension. 

  You feel the slick of your own arousal seep into the cotton fabric of your panties and you clench achingly around nothing. Megumi pants deeply but refuses to make eye contact, silently wondering if he had pushed things too far and broken a boundary by his body’s reaction. 

  Your mouth feels so dry and your throat is growing tight from the carnal desire building. “N-no… you didn’t make me uncomfortable at all..”

  Megumi breaks his gaze from the TV screen and looks back at you, hair disbelieved more than usual and pupils blown wide as he listens to your response. Shit he’s powerless against that stare, well against all of you in truth. Anything you want he’d do, every word he’d listen to; that same hypnotic spell you placed him under the first time Yuji had introduced the both of you.

  “Y-yea? It’s ok?”

  You nod and drag him back into you, hovering your lips. Surely you could just keep kissing and ignore right? How hard could that be? Haha… we’ll just ignore it…

  You reconnect your lips and his hands make no hesitation to rest on your hips again while your hands tangle in his hair before tugging the material of his sweatshirt closer to you. It’s as if he’s drunk, all the plans he had on wooing you are thrown out the window as soon as his skin touches yours.

  The plan, the original plan, he had was to impress you at ice skating and maybe even hold your hand during it. That failed, so he resorted to your proposal of hot chocolate and a movie, an opportunity to ask you out, but this time as something more. Even then he couldn’t muster up the courage until you offered to go ice skating again. 

  You groan against the muscle of his tongue while his hips grind against your pelvis, the friction his body craved finally getting a taste. 

  No. Megumi knows he has to make a move here; tired of the way he usually sits back and lets life do what it wants with him. It takes Yuji and Nobara dragging him out of the house to actually doing something, and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna let the one girl he’s actually liked kiss him without knowing exactly what he’s been thinking and feeling all this time.

  Walking his dogs together, grabbing lunch on campus, fuck even Satoru teasing him countless times at functions for acting like a needy virgin when he stared helplessly at you; begging for an once of attention as if he were a dog.

  Megumi pushes into you further, his hand going south to grab your ass and kneed the flesh before his lips break yours and his mouth sucks hard and fat spots onto the side of your neck.

  “Fuck.. Megumi—“

  His tongue swipes the skin before he sinks his teeth in hungrily, mind going fuzzy from desire and arousal. Every time his name leaves your lips, his teeth sink in just a little bit harder and his cock twitches painfully from within his jeans.

  You’re nearly squished between his erection and the corner of the counter, in an effort to breathe you take a step back but Megumi immediately follows suit, mumbling into your neck “Haaa.. don’t run… please angel…”

  He grabs your hips steady and reconnects your lips, continuously grinding against you, making no effort to hide the way his body was begging for more. Further crushed between the force of his pelvis and the cool counter, you take a hand down from his hair and place it flat against his chest, pushing back.

  Megumi allows himself to be swayed back, momentarily worrying if you would call it off here before you tug on the hem of his sweatshirt. “We can… go upstairs?” You turn to the counter and laugh dryly, “It might give us some more room?”

  A shiver runs down his spine and Megumi exhales shakily at the thought while his cheeks puff with every breath. “That’s alright?”

  Immediately he thinks of his room, is it messy? Did he pick his clothes up off the floor? Would you notice a very obvious box of tissues and lube on his night stand? 

  Before he can continue internally worrying about the state of his bedroom, you take him by the hand and nod, mirroring the same face drunken with desire, “yea… I want to.”

  Megumi’s brain nearly short circuits at the admission and his body moves towards his bedroom, dragging you behind him, Ok.. this is happening… act casual.

  His palms halts on the door knob for a moment, silently wondering when the last time he shaved was, if his deodorant was still working, and– “Oh..”

  As soon as he opens the door, both dogs nudge past your legs and get comfortable on his bed and floor, looking up at him as they would every evening routine. Boner still uncomfortable in his jeans with his hands now on your waist while your panties are sopping wet, you both exchange uncomfortable glances.

  “Alright.. Sorry..”

Megumi shuffles over and picks up the white-haired dog from his bed while you corral the other out of the door; only stopping once both are shooed back into the living room. Megumi sighs and clicks the door shut before turning back to you; instead of an awkward small talk over the fact his dogs are cockblocks, he resolves to grab your waist with one hand, cradling your neck in the other, and pulling you into a kiss. 

  Your brain returns to its dizzy and fuzzy state, crawling backwards onto the plush mattress of his bed when Megumi guides you to it, his lips never leaving yours. Fingers leaving the dip of your hips, his hands gently push your back flat while he remains standing between your legs and dips his head down into your neck.

  Cool fingers play with the hem of your sweater and admire the warmth of the skin of your navel before playing with the elastic of your leggings. His kisses are lighter than the bruising ones from earlier but each movement of his lips leaves goosebumps on your skin.

  “Can I…” he swallows and stands upright, pinching his fingers between the elastic of your leggings, “take these off?”

  Heart pounding in your chest and mind fuzzy with desire, you nod once and watch the way he gently tugs the fabric down and motions for you to raise your hips; pulling them past the curve of your thighs and down your ankles before throwing them haphazardly behind him. 

  Your breath stops as his movements halt, embarrassment burning on your face as he stares at the dark blue cotton that’s stained an even darker color from the amount of slick saturating the fabric. “Oh wow.. Angel..”

  The new pet name barely registers in your head before a finger glides up and down the fold of your pussy, occasionally pushing against the wet patch to see how much more the fabric could sop up before it leaked onto his finger. You shiver and whimper with each stroke of his finger, flexing your hips when his other hand moves to rub circles around your clit through your panties.

  “Aaaa… M-Megumi..”

  Your head is thrown back when he finally hooks his fingers along the waistband and tugs the underwear down to meet your leggings on his bedroom floor. He splays your thighs open with a strong grip on your legs and stares for a moment once more before leaning down to place open mouth kisses along the flesh. One particularly fresh bruise on the side of your thigh gets a few extra kisses, as if an apology from Megumi for pulling you to the ice and causing the small injury. 

  Impatient hands tangle in his hair as you attempt to tug him to where you need him the most, “Please.. Megumi.. Need you…”

  And who was he to resist you? In the same hypnotic trance, he kneels against the edge of his bed and groans slightly at the pressure against his cock before licking a long stripe up your pussy. Nails scraping his scalp and head leaning into the plush blanket on his bed, Megumi wastes no time licking several more long stripes. 

  It’s the girl he’s been dreaming about nonstop with her thighs spread wide for him, and Megumi finally snaps. All the months of hesitation come rushing back into his mind, remembering every time he was too awkward to tell you directly how he felt, and it flips a switch in him. No longer testing the water, he delves his tongue into the entrance of your pussy and wraps his arms around the underside of your thighs to keep you still. 

  “Oh my-.. Nnnghh”

  His nose occasionally bumps your clit and the reaction leaving your lips makes him only more feral, increasing the sloppiness of his tongue moving in and out your cunt and creating a pool of saliva and wetness staining his chin and the bed below. 

  The noise is disgustingly lewd, sopping french kisses to your pussy before his tongue rubs against your clit and an index finger slowly stretches you open. You throw your head back in pleasure and Megumi looks up to watch the furrow of your eyebrows before diving back in; his hips humping pathetically against the mattress, erection growing painfully hard.

  “Fuck!”

  A second finger stretches you open so nicely while his teeth pinch and nip at your puffy and swollen clit. Megumi’s lips continue focusing on you intently, determined to make you finish at least once on his mouth. He’s been dreaming of this moment for so long, and was not about to let it end without making you feel as good as he’s been planning to. All the nights of shoving his hand down his boxers, wishing, needing it to be yours, was nothing compared to the sounds that left your lips and pussy.

  “Right.. Ahhh.. right there…”

  Digging your nails into his hair and pulling slightly, your back arches when his fingers graze that one spot along your vaginal wall. The sensation has your toes curling and twitching as they rest on his shoulders and he wears your thighs like earmuffs. 

  “Right here?” Megumi looks up at you, eyes half shut in drunken desire and a mess of fluids dripping down his chin to the bob of his Adam’s apple, before flicking his fingers upright from inside you, “Here, angel?”

  A partial whimper, partial gasp is all he needs to hear before his fingers curl to bully the rough patch and his lips dip to rub his tongue against your clit with as much force and speed he could give. Hips twitching and raising to meet his action, a familiar coil builds in your abdomen and you begin to clench pathetically against his fingers.

  “Shit.. just got so much wetter f’me..”

  Increasing the speed of his fingers to a bruising pace to rut against your g-spot, you throw your head back and convulse slightly at the amount of pleasure that washes over you as your orgasm ripples through your body. 

  “Yea.. just like that angel.”

  Megumi continues thrusting his fingers, though slower, to gently fuck out the rest of your orgasm and then lift his hand to his mouth to suck your cum off of them. You wearily blink at him and sway your head from side to side, the weight of your release leaving your limbs like jelly. 

  With a slight ‘pop’ of his fingers, Megumi rises once and softly rubs circles into the flesh of your thighs with eyes staring intently at you in stark contrast. Almost as if watching prey, he tilts his head to the side and leans in, “You ok there?”

  Sitting on your elbows and catching your breath, you nod once and drink in the sight of him drunk on desire and his lips still glistening from the essence of your arousal. Leaning down he connects his lips to yours, letting his tongue play against yours and provide the taste of your own orgasm with a small hum. 

  Breaking the kiss with a string of saliva connecting you before it lazily snaps, your eyes break contact from his and notice the way his erection was pushing painfully against the denim of his jeans. 

  You lick your lips at the sight, silently wondering what his pretty cock might look like, “Want me to help you out there?”

  Nearly buckling at your words, Megumi shakily exhales and shakes his head before leaning back and tugging off his sweatshirt and under t-shirt in one pull. Toned and lean abs carve his flesh and a dark happy trail begins just below his navel before sinking past the hem of his jeans. The sight is enough for another gush to seep from your pussy and cause your nipples to erect against the fabric of your bra. 

  “No angel.. But I will definitely take you up on that later.. ‘Cause I think–” he unbuttons his jeans and lets the material fall before kicking them off his legs onto the floor without care, “I might cum the moment I feel your tongue on me.”

  You sigh at the sight of his erection straining against his thin cotton boxer briefs, a patch of pre cum staining the gray material even darker. Megumi brings his fingers to the hem of your sweater before pulling it up and above you, eyes lingering on the swell of your tits. Even prettier than he imagined, he dips down to plant open mouth kisses between the valley and wrapping his hands behind your back in an attempt to get the clasp. 

  After a few failures, you bend your hands behind yourself to release the metal hooks and toss the bra to the corner of his room; Megumi doesn’t bother complaining, now relieved to finally see the tits he’s jerked off to, in person. 

  Immediately, his lips wrap around your left nipple while his hand lifts to knead the fatty flesh of the other breast. Gentle teeth nip at the hardened bud before sucking a few deep purple hickies around the swell and lower collarbone. 

  His lips leave a trail of fire, and your hands tug at the roots of his hair when he plants an extra kiss on one breast before swapping to the next. 

  “Wouldn’t want this one to feel left out.”

  You scoff lightly and arch at the sensation of the wet muscle gliding along the sensitive flesh, and the roughness of his hand massaging the smooth skin of your other tit. A few more bruises are sucked onto your chest before Megumi lifts back up and guides you further up the bed to make room for him to climb up and join you. 

  “Oh wait–” Megumi stands on his knees on the bed and looks around his room, “condom.”

  The anticipation of getting a condom and getting railed by the guy you’ve been crushing on, and the guy who’s very appearance causes a gush in your panties, elicits a shiver of excitement. Sighing slightly, he lifts himself off the bed, “I’ll be right back.”

  His words are meaningless, as if you were going to leave anyways, and he opens his bedroom door a crack to slip out. Sets of paws against the wooden floorboards can be heard as Megumi shoos his pets away in an attempt to run down the hall to Yuji’s bedroom and dig through his drawers for a rubber. 

  You take a brief moment to admire his room while he’s away, the tidiness of it all isn’t surprising, but the lack of wall decor and personal memorabilia is. A few posters of bands, notably Weezer, hang on his walls alongside a few photos and awards for his achievements in the veterinary field, but other than that, the room is bare. The color palette is a blue-gray and the only plushies in the entire room are toys for his dogs; a feeling of almost sadness emits from the intense minimalistic aspects of it all. As if he didn’t have anything to fill the walls with, rather than him choosing to leave it completely bare.

  “Ah.. shit–” Megumi slips back into the room and struggles to keep his dogs out, “I’ll take you for a walk after..”

  After…

  The feeling subsides and the anticipation courses through your veins again as Megumi successfully coerces the canines to retreat back to the living room. He shuts the door in success.

  “Got it.”

  A half smirk that nearly looks out of character is planted on his face while he wastes no time in rushing back up to the bed and positioning himself comfortably over you. Leaning down for another kiss, his erection grinds against your navel, still covered by the thin fabric, but with enough force some of the pre cum smudges onto your flesh. 

  He sighs at the friction and sits up to shimmy off his boxer briefs and kick them to the floor without care. The happy trail that starts at his navel extends down to the base of his cock into a neat bush of pubic hair; he wasn’t regularly shaving, but still kept things tidy. 

  Longer than average and slightly thicker than any of your exes, the sight of his dick made the walls of your cunt clench pathetically around nothing. Balls heavy and aching, Megumi wraps his hand around the shaft to give a few pumps before splitting open the foil package and sliding the rubber down his cock. 

  It takes a few extra tugs before he’s certain it's snug enough, and he nudges your thighs apart with his knees and leans back down into your neck. 

  “You ready angel?”

“Y-yea.”

  You instinctively wrap your arms around his shoulders and sink your nails lightly into the flesh of his back as you feel him slowly slide inch by inch inside. The stretch is an erotic burn that, despite the sting, only makes you even hornier for it all. 

  An uneven breath escapes his lips by the time he bottoms out, taking a moment for you to adjust and Megumi to reel his brain back in to avoid prematurely cumming in only a matter of seconds. You twitch your hips at the feeling of wanting more; his deft hands reach for one of the pillows behind you, and slides it under your hips to make the angle easier to move. 

  Megumi does a few test strokes before finding a steady rhythm and snapping his hips into yours with a small ‘thawp’ of his balls hitting your ass with every pump. 

  “Oh shit angel…hnngh.. Better than I ever i-imagined.”

  You whine deliciously into his ear and sink a few crescent shapes into his back from the sensation; twitching every time the tuft of pubic hair grinds perfectly against your puffy clit. The sensation is mind numbing and Megumi begins lazily biting at flesh on your neck, pussy drunk from the sensation and devoid of any rationale.

  Even with a condom he can feel the way your cunt clenches around him, as if your pussy was molding to the shape of his dick with each thrust. He can’t even imagine hitting it raw, resolving that if you ever let him do that, he might just have to put a ring on your pretty finger. 

  Over the combined moans and whimpers, the bed frame smacks against the wall in a steady ‘thud, thud, thud’ and the wooden frame creaks from the motion. 

  “Fuck… Megumi…”

“Yea.. you got it Angel… just haaa.. Keep those pretty hips steady f’me.”

  “Megumi! Exam’s over!”

Nearly falling forward and crushing you, Megumi stops all motions while the two of you look at each other in total terror. Despite the cockblock of his roommate and potentially getting caught balls deep inside you, his cock twitches inside aching for release; you dig your nails into his shoulder in worry. 

  Nobara’s shoes can be heard clacking on the wooden floor next to Yuji in the kitchen, “Hmm two mugs.. But the content is kinda cold… did they go out for a walk?”

“The dogs are here though…”

  Megumi hunches over you pathetically and grinds his hips without pulling out before you usher him to back up. He follows your instruction and slides out, watching as you scurry off the bed and gently get on the floor, bringing a pillow for your hips. Eyes wide in understanding that on the floor the bed frame wouldn’t be making any noise, Megumi follows suit and positions himself between your legs again. 

  This is bad. So very bad. If Yuji heard you two, there was no chance hell either one of you would ever hear the end of it. But… the way you look up at Megumi and spread your legs wanting and waiting for him to continue is enough to disregard any worry. 

  Sighing at the feeling of your cunt wrapping perfectly around his cock once more, Megumi lifts your ankles to rest upright on his shoulders and begins thrusting again. Not pulling out all the way, his strokes are shallow but forceful, still kissing your cervix with every movement; he plants chaste kisses on your ankles before moving a hand to cover your mouth when a whimper threatens to escape. 

  “I guess they aren’t home?”

“Oh!” Yuji’s hands can be heard clapping through the door, “He probably finally took her to that cafe! You know I felt so bad the other day, but Megumi would kill us if we took Y/N there before he could ask her out.”

  You look at Megumi and nudge the side of his face with your foot in a half-heartwarming and half-teasing manner before he pinches your sole with his fingers. Despite the truth being poured out by his best friends just outside the door, his thrusts are getting more erratic and an orgasm quickly builds in his abdomen.

  To even the situation, Megumi slides a hand down further and rubs quick circles against your click, quickly ‘shushing’ you when whines escape your lips in pleasure. 

  Shit. He was about to cum. About to cum with his fucking friends outside his bedroom door listening. 

  “Well– Let’s get food then too! Maybe steak?”

Nobara can be heard walking to the front door again and scoffing, “No way– let’s get sushi.”

The pair can be heard grumbling between each other before the front door eventually ‘clicks’ and you're left in silence again.

  Immediately, Megumi picks up the pace and rubs quick circles against your clit before pushing your legs off his shoulders and splaying your thighs. Long and harder strokes leave his pelvis smacking your clit, and your head leans back in pleasure at the sensation of his cock smacking into that rough patch over and over. 

  “Yea angel… cum.. Please– cum on my cock”

  As if his words could force the action, the coil building in your gut inevitably snaps and you lean your head into the carpet of his floor and moan out his name. 

  “Y-Yea.. Just like that.. Fuck.. Y/N.. gonna fucking c-cum” A few more erratic thrusts and Megumi shudders as he cums hot ropes of semen into the rubber of the condom, admiring the cream of your orgasm getting pushed up his shaft to sit at the base. The sight, sound, and smell are so errotic there’s nearly a haze in the atmosphere from the intensity of it all. 

  Megumi thrusts a few more times with a weak exhale before slipping out of your cunt and hunching over on his knees to slip the condom off. You wearily look around and wince at the empty feeling before sitting up and wiping a few drops of sweat off your tits.

  “Oh sorry,” Megumi tosses the soiled rubber into his bedroom trash and rubs the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead, “didn’t mean to drip on you.”

“Hah, it’s alright. Just help me up and we’ll be even.”

  Nearly in a mirrored pose reversing the roles of you both today, Megumi pulls you by the hand to stand upright and supports your waist when you nearly topple over. A chaste kiss against your temple, he sets you straight and pushes a lock of hair behind your ear. 

  “Let’s shower, yea?”

“Mmm good idea, we probably need it.”

  Megumi takes a quick peek out of his room before swinging the door open wide and shuffling down the hallway and towards the bathroom with his hand in yours. Both dogs follow suit, but leave space for you to enter the washroom and shut the door. 

  You giggle slightly as the slight bruises from earlier litter his toned thighs, and Megumi bends at the waist to start the water of the shower and check the temperature. He ensures it’s not too hot and offers you a hand while you both step over the ceramic tub and behind the plastic curtain. 

  It’s a different level of intimacy than earlier, no longer sexual but still incredibly vulnerable and raw. Megumi wets his hair and shimmies to the side to let you do the same before passing various bottles of shampoo and soap to use; popping the cap, you inhale the familiar scent he usually wears. 

  “So… that was.. amazing.”

“I agree–” you rinse off soap suds from your arms, “–now what?”

“What do you mean?”

  A slight burn goes across your cheeks as you shrug, it’s not like you had the what exactly are we? talk beforehand.

  Megumi admires the way water cascades down your body and tilts his head to the side, “I was honest earlier when I said you’re more than just a friend to me… and I by no means see what we just did as casual. To be honest, it pisses me off to even think of this as being anything but exclusive.”

  “Sooo.. you want to date? Like.. date-date?”

Megumi looks at you as if it were the simplest question possible, “I do. I want to go places with you and watch the way people look at us. To hear you introduce me to your friends as not just ‘Megumi’ but as your boyfriend.”

  You nod in agreement, “I’d like that too.. Though I have a feeling you would rather call me angel.”

  “Oh that..” Megumi coughs and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly before moving to change the conversation and stepping out of the shower, “is the water ok? I’ll step out and grab you some towels and a change of clothes.”

  A soft laugh escapes your lips as you watch him shake his hair off from side to side like a dog and wrap a towel around his delicious ‘V’ line before stepping out of the bathroom. Enjoying the warmth of the water on your bullied skin for a few extra minutes, you stay behind the curtain before turning the faucet off and hearing a short courtesy knock at the door. 

  Megumi shuffles in, now dressing in casual athleisure, and uses a free leg to push the dogs back before placing a stack of towels on the counter and a fresh set of sweatpants and t-shirt on the toilet lid. Despite just seeing you naked, his eyes avoid looking at your body as you towel dry and slip into the clothes. 

  “Ok… I think I get it now–” He throws your towel on the corner of the door to try and admires his ‘veterinary department’ university t-shirt and JJK frat sweatpants on your frame, “the whole.. Wearing your partners’ clothes, thing.”

  You smile at him and lean forward to meet his lips gently, his mouth immediately chasing yours as if he needed it to breathe and pouting once you exit and head down the hall. Christmas movie still playing on the TV, you plop down on the sofa and immediately curl into Megumi’s chest when he positions himself next to you. 

  Back against his chest, head on his collarbone, and legs intertwined with his, the both of you watch the cheesy film as a light snow and wind pick up outside the window. One of the dogs climbs up and rests on the empty sofa cushion next to both of you while the other lays in a ball at the base of the couch comfortably. 

  It’s a comfortable silence, and the steady beat of Megumi’s heart is nearly enough to lull you to sleep. 

  “Well? What do you think of this movie?”

  Megumi shifts his weight and settles his hand just under your shirt to rub mindless patterns into the softness of your flesh, still relishing in the idea of having you all to himself, “I think I like them now.”

“Really?”

“Yea..”

  You remain comfy in his arms before Megumi continues, “I guess I just never had anyone to relate them to, so I figured they were wild overestimations of how it would feel.”

“Hmm? How what would feel?”

  Megumi stops tracing your waist and settles to squeeze your body further into his, almost as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go.

  “This. Having someone.. Having you.”

  You look up at his words and trace his jaw with your finger to usher him into your lips; he immediately connects them happily. Gently leaning in and feeling him stiffen at the action for a potential round 2, a loud grumble emits from your stomach.

  “Whoops.. Hahah guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”

  Megumi genuinely laughs lightly and your heart melts at the sound as he sits upright, “Come on let’s eat then… I have to take you to that cafe.”

“The one we heard Yuji mention?”

  Megumi rolls his eyes at your slight tease but smiles at you, “Yea, I actually had planned on taking you there on a date.”

“Well, you would be.”

  Megumi keeps you trapped in his arms despite just proposing to get up and get food, “What do you mean?”

“I mean… we’re dating, and you’d be taking me there.. so it’s a date.”

There’s a slight exhale that leaves his lips before he squeezes you just a bit tighter and places a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “mmm I guess you're right. It’s only fair to take my girlfriend out on a date.”

TY for reading the first installment of the Holiday Hoes! Frat AU JJK one shot series!!

most fics in this will be roughly this length and all in the same AU with some hints at the next few themes hidden in this one :)

writing megumi was lowkey harder than I thot, and i appreciate all comments/reblogs/likes

╰(´︶`)╯♡ -oatmeal

[randomwords247]

hi so I originally rambled this in the comments but a) i rambled more than 1 comments worth and b) IT DELETED MY SECOND ONE SOBS so im just gonna reblog and ramble here instead I am sorryfor clogging your notifs 😭

I feel 2 or 5 would be good opportunities to practice backgrounds/framing (i forget the term) and good pieces to show improvement. 5 especially for the latter because while I do think the visual impact is already good, I can definitely see how something potentially more dramatic could REALLY emphasise how small Hilda seems in comparison to the jagged and harsh inside of the cave littered with bells, with the stark contrast of the more vibrant colours of outside's light with the dark duller interior.

While 2 I feel could be a good exercise for backgrounds and, with similar enhanced framing, could also really exceed the original. It could emphasise the mountain or hill Hilda (hehe hillda) is standing upon, and how the forest is far below it and far away. A deep and long look out upon the miles and miles of forest, as she stands besides a solitary tree rooted within this part of the mountain, gazing out at the land, stood in the sunset. The lighting also I feel could be something that, again while I think its already good, I feel like there could really be a way to like EMPHASISE the sunset, and help the piece pop visually, perhaps even with a contrast of the forest being shadowed over by the mountain she's on. Idk just spittballing, but I think with the 2nd piece, again I wanna emphasise I think it looks amazing already, it would be a great show of improvement for backgrounds, lighting and (less so but still there) framing.

These are just my personal picks because I feel these two pieces have a lot more going on visually (not that the others don't!!!) that could be a really good show of your improvement and progression in your art over the last 3-4 years, and they already are visually appealing and impactful!! So I think it would be amazing to see how they could be even COOLER :DD

AGAIN I wanna really say I love the orignal pieces and I don't mean to like hate on them or anything. I'm just kinda spitballing why I think they would be amazing picks for redrawing, and why. This is just my personally opinion on which pieces could really be the coolest but I figured it was worth giving my two cents :D and either way I'm sure whatever you decide to redraw will be amazing!!!

okay I will go back to hibernation apologies for rambling so much

hey guys I wanna try a thing

[bamsara]

A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

[mikkaeus]

house md hilson fic rec - medium to long fics (10k+)

Other house rec lists: short fics | episode tags | postcanon | infidelity trope (all of these are mutually exclusive apart from the infidelity one) // Edit: I added the longer postcanon fics to this reclist as well because this one got the most traction!

These are all House/Wilson unless otherwise stated. Before we get into the fics, here are some of my fave authors that have written several house fics.

fourteencandles: im literally in love with them . 10/10 writing no notes. also long fics?? hello???

ictus: this author has the range! from emotional to fluff to funny. very smooth writing. all of their fics have different vibes which was fun to read. they’re all very good. 

Transformatron: fics that are transcendent and porny, all featuring a d/s undertone or theme (wilson as the dom)

Namaste (livejournal / ff.net): Some short fics, some much longer ones. Mostly gen focussing on H&W friendship, with some fics on canon pairings. Interesting character studies and discerning prose.

In order of length. *faves, ***underrated faves

*Brain Damage by fourteencandles (8k) (Ok I know this isn’t over 10k but I wanted all of their fics on one post and it’s close enough so.) This was brilliant. Like a real episode of House, with Wilson as the unfortunate patient-of-the-week, with bonus House/Wilson. Characterisation was bang on, and the plot was original and engaging and had a satisfying conclusion. Love to see House taking care of Wilson.

Down to the Water + Bound for Home by blackmare (~10k) Aftermath of season 4. House and Wilson go on a road trip. Quiet and sad and fragile, with excellent writing. This fic appears to have been fairly well known in lj days but I don't think a lot of newer people know about it.

*A Smaller World by fourteencandles (10k) The thing between them works, if Wilson doesn't push for more. God I’m so soft. I have so many feelings!!! In love with this established relationship hilson, still a little precarious, but with Wilson adapting, and House willing to put in effort.

*What's Past by fourteencandles (10k) The guy who used to have Wilson's job comes back for a visit, and it turns out they have more in common than Wilson ever knew.

*Touch Therapy by nomad (10k) It's not that House needs the human contact. It's just that when you're sharing an apartment, these things happen sometimes. Light hearted and funny, canon divergence from when Wilson’s staying on House's couch in s2. This is pretty much the homosexual waters have started flowing in House's direction post. Excellent dialogue.

***not another medical drama series (10k) by captainharkness Retelling of season 1 with House and Wilson as an established relationship. Great slice of life stories! Ongoing. The first is H/W POV, the second is Cameron, and the third is Chase. My favourite is definitely the second one (someone else’s story). I adore seeing H/W through the ducklings’ eyes. 

Synchronicity by copperbadge (10k) Dead patients, car wrecks, drug overdoses, journalists, Comatose Charlie, and orange chicken. Must be love.

systemic by ictus (10k) Ever since Wilson moved in, House has presented with some inexplicable symptoms. Fortunately, he has a team of talented doctors to aid him with his diagnosis. Season 2 fic! This one is funny and sweet and overall a great read.

Rush Down Darkness by Starlingthefool (10k) House MD/World War Z crossover. Told mainly through interview dialogue from house’s pov. Engaging story. House/Wilson definitely takes a backseat to the plot — there’s no grand getting together or anything. That's not to say it's not about them though, because there were still lots of good moments (good in the sense that my heart hurts). More succinctly, it has the vibes of an established relationship fic., although it isn't technically one.

Defensive Strategies by Milkshake Butterfly (~10k) (lj) In which Wilson is tired of being asked out by women when he's not ready to date again, and naturally House proposes a simple solution: pretend to be together. An enjoyable read.

******Commonplace and True by celestialskiff (11k) It would be a simple story--House and Wilson meet at a medical conference, have sex, and enjoy each other's company--but nothing is ever easy, or simple. Explores Wilson's relationship with House, with women, and with himself. House and Wilson throughout the years — with the version of canon where Wilson has cheated on every wife and girlfriend with House. When I tell you I am FROTHING!!! Pining while fucking?? The way it’s never the right time?? The greed of wanting to have your cake and eat it too? (That one’s specifically for Wilson, our beloved three-wives guy.) The vibes are immaculate. The prose is elegant verging on poetic. I’m eating this fic whole and it will be on my mind always. It is THE hilson fic for me. It is criminal that this fic has been up since 2012 and it only has 200 kudos. Go read it immediately & give the author some love.

***Declarations of Independence by Namaste (ff.net, also on livejournal) (11k) House and winter, throughout the years. I really enjoyed this. Excellent writing. Copy pasting a part of a comment by bedawyn which articulates why this fic is unique better than I can: “So far, I've seen a lot of focus in the fanfic (and the eps) on the pain and the Vicodin, but very little awareness of the practical aspects of limited mobility and the emotional impact of those even apart from the pain. So this was a very nice change.”

***Rule of Three by Transformatron (11k) (House/Wilson/Foreman) Foreman sees something he shouldn't have. And, maybe, wants something he shouldn't have, too. This was well written and super hot, with fun dialogue and descriptions that do justice to the excellent writing of the show itself. Foreman is faithfully characterised in a way that made me sympathetic. Also H/W outsider perspective as a third is such a treat to read. Lower me into my grave!!!!

*Warning Signs by out_there (12k) Excerpt: House looked to the left, staring down at the open box. Wilson knew that expression on his face: House was torn between denying it all and gleefully acknowledging his schemes. Normally, his ego won out and, like a comic super villain, he'd explain all. Wilson just needed to stay quiet and wait. This fic was fantastic. I am disgustingly fond. Superb characterisation. Light hearted and funny.

The Oncologist Trap by zulu (13k) (2007) House subtly seduces Wilson. Somehow.

The Line of Thought by tevinterimperium (13k) House and Wilson pretend to be together to play a prank on the ducklings, which is an extremely plausible scenario. From the perspective of the ducklings. Set sometime after 3x15: Half-Wit.

hail mary by ictus (13k) A post-canon fix it! In the weeks since finishing the show and reading this fic there are times I forgot that this wasn’t canon. It’s such a believable (and well-researched) alternate ending that feels like an actual episode.

Son of Mine by simoneallen (14k) Sherlock is House’s long-lost kid. Usually I’m not a fan of cross-over fics but I enjoyed this one. Established relationship on the johnlock side, getting together on the hilson side.

***hearts turn red by ictus (14k) In my head this is the counterpoint to Commonplace and True. When I found it after reading that one it really was a holy shit two fucking cakes?? moment. The delicious infidelity vibes are similar, but the vibes of the writing are pretty different -- whereas the above fic has a more quiet, subdued atmosphere, this one has more snappy prose and it’s more light-hearted with funny moments as well as emotional ones. It’s not just the infidelity theme that makes me crazy about both of them though; it’s how they play on the great tragedy of House and Wilson. In the author’s own words: In a way they do feel a little bit doomed to never quite be on the same page with each other until the very end of the series and by then it's too late. Of course, in these fics, they’re rescued earlier than the end, but the wretched vibes remain. Also, I’m obsessed with this line: By Wilson’s read, House is somehow simultaneously joking and sincere: Schrödinger’s sexual advance. That is the entire fucking show.

An Inconvenient Truth by annathaema (15k) Wilson helps out Cuddy and reveals something about himself in the process. House freaks out accordingly. Also features banana-colored babies, the men's room, and Skee-Ball.

*at the rind by ShanaStoryteller (19k) An AU where Wilson experiences all the near death moments House has in the show as a series of nightmares. Set between 1.19 and 2.05, but spoilers for the whole show. Protective Wilson!! We love to see it. I also like Wilson’s characterisation here - you can very much see how not-normal he is. We love unhealthy co-dependency.

***Esopus Creek by shaycat (24k) An eighty-year-old widower by the name of Eugene Skinner ventures out one September day in upstate New York for his usual morning activity - fly fishing. His leisurely hobby is interrupted by a bickering pair nearby in the river. That chance encounter with Greg House and James Wilson changes the course of his life. Told from the perspective of the last friend the boys make on their final road trip. This was the perfect post season 8, Wilson-still-dies fic. A sad fic but not a depressing one. It’s quiet and heartwarming, in a bittersweet way. Highly recommend. It has great use of outsider POV — I’m always a sucker for it but it worked particularly well in this case to have the angst but not be drowning in it. Also I just really liked the OC.

***Howler Tone by baffledbear (25k) The calls always happen late at night, and they're extremely sporadic, with weeks, sometimes months bridging between them. They talk on the phone otherwise, of course; about patients, or dinner plans, or carpooling. Typical stuff. But the calls that always end a certain way always start a certain way. Wilson is so repressed but so attracted to House. House is taking as much as he can get while still remaining in relative safety. Together they push a platonic relationship to the absolute limits of plausible deniability. Overall totally realistic within the canon of the show — the natural step up from the gay chicken already depicted. It’s just such a perfect scenario for them! That combined with silky smooth prose, faithful characterisation and accurate dialogue makes this fic is a definite hilson favourite and also a hilson-thesis fic.

*The Open Road by Pun (25k) A fandom classic. Road trip fic set in the earlier seasons. It's good; read it.

*He Won't Tell You That He Loves You by hellshandbasket (25k) [In which Nolan pulls at the Wilson thread, and House can't stop it all from unraveling. Repression is a hell of a drug.] Early s6. Another fandom classic that is worth its salt.

no need to worry (making up your mind) by scribespirare (25k) House makes the mistake of telling his mother he can't join her for Christmas because of his new boyfriend. Somehow, this becomes Wilson's problem. Cute and fun. I put off reading fake-dating fics because I was worried about them being OOC but this one definitely wasn’t!

***Sticks and Stones by Transformatron (25k) (WIP) House has an innovative new idea for managing his chronic pain. Wilson’s not sure he approves - but when has House ever asked for permission? This is such a great concept I am climbing the walls!!! D/s with House as the sub. The story is currently still at pre-relationship stage, with House experimenting with BDSM and Wilson being unhappy with the proceedings (for some unknown reason /s). Also the writing is nice and snappy with some great figurative language that manages to incorporate medical themes impressively well. 

Fresh Feeling by justkeeptrekkin (30k) House is tricked into going on a team-building trip with his colleagues. He does far more bonding with Wilson than anyone else. Funny and well written. The team interactions are very cute.

***Tracking Time by Namaste (37k) (ff.net) A look at House and Wilson's friendship over the years and how it has changed from their meeting through the end of the first season. I don’t usually read long genfics but this one was exceptional. I like Namaste’s take on House and Wilson’s characters. And they are a very good storyteller — one thing that you don’t tend to see as much of in fanfiction is the old adage of ‘show not tell’. The writing in this fic is careful and subtle, and lets you read between the lines, making it so that no part of the 37k words is a drag to read.

*The Body Found by fourteencandles (46k) Wilson's missing. When I tell you I cried... Premium angst & hurt/comfort. Excellent dialogue with some alternating POV (House mainly, but you also get the three ducklings & Cuddy).

You Already Know How This Will End by fourteencandles (46k) What if House had gone to rehab right after/around "Merry Little Christmas"? (3.10) This fic was interesting. It’s told in a series of short vignettes with a variety of different perspectives. It’s not really a hilson fic (or a fic for any ship). It just explores the characters. I did wish for more hilson but it’s a good read (I mean, it’s fourteencandles). The one hilson scene near the end where they hire a hooker in Atlantic City lives in my head rent free. Warning that the ending is rather abrupt and I didn’t find it satisfying, but I think it works for this kind of story, in a way. Messy people and their complicated relationships, with a lot of loose ends left untied, because that’s just what life is. 

***For Every Closed Door by starlingthefool (around 50k?) (lj) Overview of the chapters (14 with 4 interludes and an epilogue) is on the author’s lj (scroll down).  House MD/Dead Like Me crossover.  I love this fic a lot! It’s canon divergence from Season 3. House gets killed in a freak accident and becomes a reaper, remaining in the mortal world to harvest souls, able to interact with people but not be recognisable to those that know him. As the author says, this is an Afterlife!Fic and therefore a deathfic. They also said it’s not depressing — which is true, because it’s more plotty than an angstfest, and there are lots of light-hearted parts, but it is definitely heartbreaking at points. I literally cried all the way through the last chapter. Happy ending though!!! Don’t worry about the cross-over aspects. I haven’t seen Dead Like Me, and as far as I can tell, it just takes the premise of the show. I’m glad I found this fic whilst trawling 2000s livejournal because it’s really a hidden gem. Great plot, dialogue, compelling OCs — the whole package! I got so emotionally invested in the story. I think there were maybe a few parts that were a little unpolished but just keep reading. It’s really worth it. 

*A Modest Proposal and Involuntary Commitment series by ignaz (98k) The one where House and Wilson get married so Wilson can’t testify against House in the Tritter arc.  I have an unfortunate habit of downloading fics and then forgetting to bookmark & comment once I’m done, so I don’t have anything detailed to say about this one, but it’s a classic and a favourite of mine.

Twenty Years of Stealing My Food by hwshipper (100k) A backstory taking place over twenty years, from how House and Wilson met all the way to canon. A reimagining of their fucked up, magnetic relationship, with a straightforward writing style. They get together nearly as soon as they meet and maintain a steady open relationship whilst cheating on their various girlfriends and wives throughout the years. 

[butchcarmy]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 2: alcohol, garlic, and lipstick

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 1 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it. 

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love. 

tags for this ch: alcohol use, throwing up, semi-permanent lipstick, accidentally embarrassing carmy in front of all his coworkers

Chapter 2: alcohol, garlic, and lipstick (8k)

He doesn’t get to see them for a couple days after that night on the couch.

This is more the rhythm he’s used to—early mornings and late nights, out of the house so long he never sees them. The next several days blur together into what feels like one very, very long day. When he sleeps, he doesn’t dream. It often feels as if he didn’t sleep at all. 

Their past exchange haunts him. He catches himself slipping, lost in thoughts as he watches the pot simmer. They’ve never had any sort of conversation like that before. Sure, they didn’t really talk about anything, but…

But in that same vein, Carmy can’t stop thinking about it. He wonders if they’re thinking about it, too. The thought feels like a tangled ball of yarn in the pit of his stomach, writhing and messy. He shouldn’t be thinking about it—they’re just roommates, after all. 

He’s restlessly worried about that moment on the couch, and yet, he can’t even muster up the words as to why. 

Because if you finally say it, it’ll all be real, he thinks vaguely, somewhat hysterically to himself, and that’s where it always ends. 

Wednesday evening, he comes in from home exhausted as ever. Nothing new. He feels the strain in his wrist when he shoves his shitty front door open—obviously overdid it in the kitchen. After shoving his sneakers off, he flicks the lights on in the kitchen, and he spots a bright pink sticky note on the counter. 

Now that’s new.

He walks up to it, squinting at the pink that’s almost neon under the fluorescents. It’s a note from his roommate. 

hey carmy, it reads, scribbled on in pen. im going out with friends tonight, so I won’t be back until later + leftovers in the fridge if you want any :)

Carmy makes a small noise of acknowledgement to himself. Picks up the note, puts it back down. 

Running a hand through sweaty hair, he opens the fridge. It’s full of ingredients, perhaps far too many for a guy who barely cooks for himself. Ironically enough, it’s the one who doesn’t cook for a living who keeps the fridge stocked. There's a lot of miscellaneous sauces, near empty coffee creamers, and mysterious tupperwares.

He spots a new tupperware that has another pink sticky note on it, so he grabs that one out of the fridge. 

He pops it open. There’s condensation on the inside of the lid, and it drips onto the floor. Inside sits pasta, potatoes, chicken, onions, and peppers, all cooked into a cheap, yet harmonious meal. It’s a familiar instant pot recipe. 

It tastes familiar, too. The ingredients together taste like home. He’s not sure if it even tastes like his home, although surely his mom cooked something like this. As he stews over the flavors in his mouth, Italian seasoning, garlic, and black pepper, he wonders if maybe this apartment is starting to feel like home. 

The thought is so ridiculous he shakes his head to himself, but…

It feels warm coming home to someone. He can’t deny that he likes that feeling. Maybe he’s settling into this place more than he thought. Maybe he’s…getting more used to having a roommate than he expected.

Maybe I’ll see them tomorrow, he thinks as he stares at his dark bedroom ceiling. He’s so sleepy he can’t even help himself from thinking about them. The lethargy always goes full blast as soon as his back hits the mattress.

Graciously, he doesn’t dream when he sleeps. Unfortunately, he wakes back up again in only a matter of hours. 

When he reluctantly wakes up and squints at his phone, he sighs. 1:14 am. Slapping his phone back down on his side table, he stubbornly shuts his eyes in an attempt to go back to bed. It would’ve been too nice if his body let him sleep throughout the night. 

Then, there’s the sound of the door opening.

He listens to the familiar sound of their footsteps against their old hardwood floor. It’s admittedly a little strange—it’s usually the other way around, with Carmy coming back home so late they’re already asleep. Except for this time. 

They’re in the kitchen, he deduces, carefully listening. It’s easy to hear everything, especially in the quiet of night. As he closes his eyes again, listening, he imagines them. 

The sound of the fridge opening. No, the freezer—it always squeaks when it opens. It shuts. Yes, now that’s the fridge door. He imagines them looking into the fridge just like he was a couple of hours ago, tilting their head thoughtfully to the side. He’s not sure if they know that they do that. 

By all means, it should be disruptive, the way they’re opening and shutting cabinets in the kitchen. And yet, as he lays there, snuggled drowsily into his sheets, it starts to sound like a lullaby. He listens to them, thinking of them cooking, and he begins to drift to sleep.

“Fuck—fuck! Shit shit shit—”

There’s a sharp yelp, and Carmy’s jumping out of bed. 

If he’s being honest, he probably wasn’t actually going to fall back asleep so easily anyway. He rarely ever does. 

He stumbles into the brightly lit kitchen, dressed in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. The lights are so bright that he’s squinting, struggling to adjust. 

“Sorry if I woke you up, there was a roach,” they explain meekly before he can think of what to say. They’re standing there, bottle of roach killer in their hand. 

Carmy looks down. As expected, there’s a big dead roach, sitting in a pale pool of roach killer. 

“I…see.” He yawns, a big one that makes the corners of his eyes tear up. “You didn’t wake me up, I was already awake. You just got back?”

“Mhm,” they reply, reaching for some paper towels, and that’s when Carmy really notices their outfit. Black, flashy, clearly meant for a night out at a bar. Dark colors always looked good on them. Their makeup matches, dark and smudged around their eyes. Seeing them dressed up like this makes it nearly impossible to deny how much he likes looking at them. 

He in particular likes the plunging neckline on their thin shirt, dipping right down their chest.

Stop stop stop, he thinks suddenly, tearing his eyes away. He’s lucky they’re not looking at him, instead preoccupied with throwing away the roach corpse on the floor. He looks around almost a little frantically to find something, anything else to talk about.

“What’s this?” Carmy asks, peering into the pan on the stovetop. 

“I, like, really want garlic bread right now.” They lean onto the counter, looking at the pan with him. “So I was making garlic bread. But then that fucking roach came and killed my vibe.” 

This is when Carmy notices that they’re rather drunk.

“Huh,” he says. “Isn’t this, uh, just a piece of bread?”

“Oh.” They pause, lifting the bread gingerly with one finger. “Um, this is so totally a piece of bread. No butter. No nothing.” They start laughing then, leaning harder onto the counter and covering their face. “Fuck, that is so  dumb.”

“You were getting there,” he comments, unable to resist an amused smile. 

“I couldn’t find the garlic powder,” they admit, face turning into a frown. “Or, like, anything else. But I need garlic bread, Carmy. I need this.”

“We have garlic cloves,” he points out.

“You cannot expect me to mince a fuckin’ garlic right now,” they retort, motioning at him with their arms so aggressively they stumble towards him. Instinctively, he puts his hands on their shoulders, and tries not to think too hard about it. 

They’re warm, and they smell like perfume, weed, and alcohol. 

“I think you should sit.” Carmy suggests, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t think he’s seen them this drunk before.

“Hm. Yeah. Imma do that.” They trudge over to one of their bar stools at the kitchen island, slumping onto it. Their shirt droops, revealing more skin, and Carmy pointedly looks away. There’s the sound of their forehead smacking against the counter, and then a groan. 

“Uh, you ok?” 

“I’m drunk and I want garlic bread,” they whine, flopping their arms across the counter. “But I can’t find the garlic—the garlic powder, and…I’m too stupid to make it right now,” they end in a miserable mumble. 

“I could make you some,” Carmy hears himself saying.

“...Really?” They tilt their head up to look at him, eyes big and full of wonder. “You would do that for me?”

“It’s just garlic bread,” he tries, instantly stricken with embarrassment. He hopes he’s hiding it well enough.

“But you’re making it!” They make a contented noise. “Imagine getting the best chef in the world to make you garlic bread.”

“I can do a lot better than garlic bread. Just so you know,” he says, entirely in an attempt to hide the way their praise makes him feel giddy. 

“I know.” His attempt backfires—their response is so genuine it makes him feel worse. “You could definitely do a million times better than garlic bread.”

“Maybe not quite a million, but somewhere around there,” he says, and then he starts working. 

He starts with a clove of garlic, mincing it quickly on their small wooden cutting board. He stands at the kitchen island with them, eyes flickering between the garlic and their watchful gaze. They’re still strewn across the counter, cheek pressed against the surface. 

“You literally mince garlic so good,” they mumble, eyes glued to his knife. “I wanna do it like you.” 

“I could teach you.” The garlic is chopped thin, and then scraped against the edge of his knife. “Just takes a lot of practice, really.”

“Teacher Carmy,” they say, almost like a song. They’ve got this big, dopey smile on their face that makes Carmy’s heart hurt. “Mr. Berzattooo,” they add, their smile growing more mischievous.

“I don’t think I like the sound of that,” he admits, words tinged with amusement, and they laugh. “I think we should just stick to chef.”

“Yes, chef!” They salute unnecessarily, and he chuckles. 

He takes out the butter—their nice butter, not the spread stuff. Heats it over their pan, scrapes the minced garlic into the hot butter, creating a delicious sizzle.

“You, uh, go out to a bar?” He asks, because he’s curious. It’s easier talking to them with his back turned to them, forced to face the pan. 

“Yeah, just went with a couple of friends. I wasn’t scheduled for tomorrow, so I thought a little fun would be nice. But I must say, bars are not exciting on Wednesday nights.”

“Seems like you got to have a good time anyway.” 

“Mhm, yeah. They had cheap drinks. I got so many.” They laugh. “They honestly didn’t taste that good.” 

“And you kept getting them?”

“It’s just ‘cause they were strong. Sometimes you just wanna get fucked up, y’know? Oh my god, it smells so fuckin’ good right now. What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s just butter and garlic,” he answers honestly. 

“This is the best thing ever. You are literally so nice.” The sincerity in their words is so palpable that Carmy feels his stomach twist. “Anyone would be so lucky to be with you.”

Fuck, Carmy thinks distantly. He adamantly refuses to acknowledge how this comment makes him feel.

“I dunno about that,” he replies, a safe neutral even though he can’t help the embarrassment. 

“Really?” They blow a raspberry at him. “Well, I like having you as my roommate. That’s something, right?”

Carmy’s glad he’s not facing them. He’s not sure what his expression looks like right now. 

“Well. Lucky for me, I guess.” He pauses, listening to the sizzle of the garlic. for a moment. “You’re a good roommate, too. I…didn’t know if I would like having one at all.”

“Oh yeah? You never had one before?”

“Not since culinary school, and they weren’t good.” He sighs at the memory. “But this…I like this.”

“I like it too,” they agree, almost a bit dreamily. “It’s nice not having to be by yourself all the time.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It is.”

He turns around then, garlic bread plated and in his hand, and they gasp, hands over their mouth. 

“Carmy,” they whisper. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” he says, smiling in endearment.

“Um, yeah. And you just made me garlic bread. To a drunk person, garlic bread is the next coming of Christ.” They slide the plate towards them, staring at it with big eyes. “And you put cheese on it!” 

“Should I not have?”

“Of course you should have!” They exclaim. “You could’ve put some shit on this I’ve never heard of and I would still eat it. You’re a wizard in the kitchen.”

“Well.” He laughs. Shakes his head. “I’m flattered?”

“You should be,” they whisper. They take a huge bite of it, resounding with a satisfying crunch. “Fuck.” They shake their head from side to side as they eat. “This is so fuckin’ yummy.”

“Good, good.” He nods, pleased. He props his elbows up on the counter, gauging their reaction.

“You are so talented,” they gush, continuing to eat urgently. “And so nice.”

Carmy knows he can’t hide the way his ears go pink. 

“Well.” He gives them a shrug he knows looks as half-hearted as it feels. “I do nice things for nice people,” he says finally, mostly because he can't just take the damned compliment.

“I'm nice people?” They repeat, so genuinely earnest that Carmy almost laughs. “That's a relief. I’m, like, so glad you think that, because I can be an annoying piece of shit sometimes.”

“Annoying?” The self deprecation surprises him. They don’t usually talk like this. “I don’t—I don’t think you’re annoying. Have I ever, uh, seemed like I—?”

“Nonono, it has nothing to do with you,” they interrupt with a hiccup, waving their hands. “I just, like, have issues.” They laugh, although Carmy’s positive there’s nothing funny about this. “And I really like you as a, as a roommate,” they stutter clumsily. “So I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“I, I don’t think you would fuck it up.” There’s something a little unsettling about all this, something that’s putting Carmy on edge. 

“I always find a way! I just do, because, I’m—I’m not good at being a person,” they blurt out, and then there’s tears spilling all over their cheeks, streaked with black mascara. 

Shit, Carmy thinks. 

“Hey,” Carmy says softly, gentle and careful. He looks up at them, concerned eyes searching their watery ones. He wishes he had the words, but they're talking again. 

“I just can’t do anything right,” they sob, bottom lip wobbling. He’s also not sure if he’s ever seen them crying so hard. Their face is scrunched in pain, skin drenched in tears. “I, I, I can't even fucking make garlic bread!”

“You're drunk,” he reminds them, carefully. “Very drunk.”

“I'm drunk, too,” they wail, and Carmy wonders if he said the wrong thing. “I'm a drunk fuck-up! I, I'm too damaged…”

“Damaged?” He echoes. Their own brutality towards themself takes his words away, and all he can do is repeat their cruelty in disbelief.

“My whole life, I've just,” they whisper, and something about it nestles into his chest and stays there. The feeling of it is familiar. “My—my whole life, I—oh, god—” 

They stop with a sharp inhale, slapping their hand on their mouth. It’s a movement that Carmy would recognize just about anywhere.

“Shit,” he curses, and he rushes them to the bathroom. 

They’re still crying as they throw up into the toilet, apologizing profusely. Carmy tries not to look, just focusing on holding up their hair. 

“I’m sorry,” they apologize again before shoving their face back into the toilet. 

“It’s okay. It happens.”  He absentmindedly notices that he’s never touched their hair before. It’s soft—must be well taken care of. “You’re doing great right now, okay?” 

“Thank you,” they sob, tilting their head to the side to rest their cheek on the toilet seat. He lets their hair fall behind them, instead just keeping one hand on their back. “I’m really s-sorry,” they say again, eyes watery and red. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats, because it's all he can say. They seem grateful enough.

I haven’t thrown up like this since college,” they tell him miserably. “I don’t like it.” 

“Nobody likes throwing up,” he reasons, and they make a weak noise of agreement. 

“Last time, I threw up in my roommate’s bathroom—” they pause, as if fighting a wave of nausea, but it seems to pass. “And I barely missed the toilet,” they whisper, like it’s some sort of dark secret. 

“Damn.” Carmy’s not sure if he should be smiling, but he is, just a little bit. “Sounds like you were shitfaced.”

“So shitfaced,” they echo. At least they’re smiling back at him. That’s a good sign. “It was such a mess. I felt so bad.” 

“Were they mad?”

“No, they weren’t. They even cleaned it up for me.” They groan. “I felt soooo bad, Carmy. So bad. I was worried they would forever hate me for that.” 

“Well, if they weren’t mad at you, I’m sure they wouldn’t hate you for it.”

“I just really didn’t want them to hate me,” they say, and they’re looking so intently into Carmy eyes that it feels like he’s bearing his soul to them. “Are you gonna hate me?”

“I'm not gonna hate you because you're throwing up.” Their hair’s falling into their face, and he moves to tuck it behind their ear before he can think about it. Their cheeks are hot to the touch.  “Would I be doing this for someone I hate?”

“Good point,” they mumble. Carmy’s hand lingers behind their ear before moving back to the middle of their back, rubbing little circles. The touch is guiltily electric on his end. “Sometimes I just…think people are waiting for a chance to hate me.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for me to find an excuse to dislike you,” Carmy says. “But…I get it.”

“...You do?” 

“Yeah,” he says, even though he’s not sure what else to say. They’re still looking at him, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. “I’m not used to anyone caring much about me.”

“I care about you,” they whisper. “I care about you a lot.”

Silence settles between them as any words Carmy had disappear on the tip of his tongue. They just keep looking at him, their eyes gentle and searching, and he can’t tear his gaze away. He can’t tear his hand off their back, either. 

“You shouldn't,” he whispers, strangely honest. “I'm not worth it.”

“Too bad.” He can't look away from their gaze, their eyes that are infinitely knowledgeable. “If I can't care about you, you have to stop being nice to me.”

Carmy opens his mouth to protest, but he can't. They seem to know it, too, with the way a knowing smile creeps up their face.

“I don't wanna do that,” he replies finally. 

“Thought so.” Their face glows brilliantly with a smile, and it should be infuriating, but it's not. “So deal with it. Me caring about you.”

He laughs at that, because it's so stupid. 

“Stupid,” he laughs, and they laugh back, their giggles echoing into the ring of the toilet. “Y'know, I fucked up today at work.”

“Oh yeah? What happened?”

“I was cutting onions. I've done it a million times, but for some reason, I fucked it all up. Onions got all over the floor, and I had to redo it all. Well, my sous had to redo ‘em.”

He's not sure why he's mentioning this to them, or why he's even mentioning it for a second time, but he is. 

“I haven't fucked up like that in forever,” he continues, reliving the memory in the back of his brain. The knife hitting the floor, metal against linoleum. “It was stupid. I hadn't done something so fucking, stupid like that in—god knows how long.” 

That can't be the point, he thinks to himself. He can't just bring up him messing up onions just to complain about messing up onions. That's not worth anything, to him or to them. They're drunk, anyhow. Why is he bringing up his issues like this, right now?

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” they say with surprisingly clarity. Their words carry a measured gentleness that doesn't seem possible from a drunk. “It would be crazy if you never messed up, y'know. Like, ever.”

“But it's been years,” he protests. There's a pressure building. “Years since I messed up like that. And someone had to clean up after my shit. They shouldn't have had to do that.”

“Hm…” They make a thoughtful noise. “It's not like you did it on purpose, right?”

“Of course not.”

“That's what friends are for,” they murmur. “And coworkers. Sometimes. It's ok that you messed up.”

“...” A part of Carmy wants to continue protesting, but it feels futile. “I shouldn't have brought it up, you're still drunk anyway,” he says, mostly to himself, but also because he can't stand to acknowledge it anymore.

“I don't care,” they whisper. “I like it when people talk to me about things.” Carmy feels something twist in his stomach, palpable and physical. 

“I’m probably being annoying,” he mutters, and as soon as the words come out of his mouth, he wants to bash his head in for saying something so childish. 

“No. You’re not.” They respond before he has a chance to take it back. “I want to know you, Carmy.”

“You already know me.”

“Not as much as I would like,” they mutter, eyes fluttering shut, and Carmy has no choice but to swallow the heavy truth. 

“You shouldn't fall asleep here. If you're feeling better, we need to get you into your bed.” He knows it's unfair, changing the subject like this. But he can't bear to look at it anymore than he already has. 

Luckily for him, they relent without any protest. They lean up against him as he helps them to their room. It's a bit difficult to wade through the piles of clothes on the floor, but Carmy's no better. 

“I really didn't mean to get this fucked up,” they mumble once they're laid back in bed. 

“No one does.”

“Maybe not no one,” they mutter, mostly to themself. No comment. They sigh. “What time is it?”

“Uh…2:35,” he says after a beat, searching eyes landing on their bedside analog clock.

“Motherfucker. I'm sorry. Don't you have work tomorrow?”

“I do. But…it's fine.” It's very much not fine, he has to wake up in a couple hours, and yet. Here he is, at the end of it. 

“You're sweet. You really are.” 

“I'm…not sweet,” is all he can get out, voice quiet. 

“Well, I think you're sweet to me. Taking care of me like this.” They outstretch their arms all of a sudden. “Come here? Please?”

He knows what they're asking. They've never hugged before. He’s only a hugger when it comes to family. He's seen them hug friends before, maybe, but him? Never. 

He shouldn't get closer, he really shouldn't. But he ends up doing it anyway, because he tells himself he likes the way they say please.

“Can I hug you?” They ask.

“Um,” he says. He nods.

They smile again, as brilliant as ever, and bring him into a tight hug. They smell like the mint mouthwash they insisted Carmy retrieve for them, along with their perfume.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” they say. He’s never heard their voice in his ear like this before. They wrap their arms around his neck then, and Carmy’s heart feels like it’s in his throat. 

“No problem,” he gets out, feeling a bit breathless. 

Before he can even form the next thought, they’re pressing a sleepy kiss on their cheek before flipping back down on their bed. 

Carmy feels like throwing up, but…not in a bad way.

“Good night,” they mumble, so sweet. “And thank you.”

Something in his brain shuts off after that. He walks to his room like a zombie, and he falls asleep nearly instantly. 

It turns out that going to bed at 2:30 am the night before work is not so fine at all. 

“Sorry I’m late, couldn’t sleep,” Carmy says groggily when he comes in, and everyone’s eyes are on him. They’re staring so intently like there’s something on his face. “What?”

“It’s, uh,” Sydney starts, but Richie swiftly cuts her off.

“Must’ve been a long night, eh?” Richie says with such a shit eating grin that makes Carmy pinch his eyebrows. 

“Fuck’s your deal?” Carmy bites back, gesturing at him. The length of his fuse matches the amount of sleep he got—slim to none.

“Nothing, cousin,” Richie replies, even though he’s still grinning like a mad man. “You better be telling me about it later though, got it?”

“Whatever,” Carmy mutters. It’s too early in the day to be dealing with this shit. “Just catch me up on what I missed.”

The day starts off rough, but he gets through it because he has to. Throughout the day, though, he can’t help but get the feeling that people keep looking at him when he’s not looking. Maybe it’s just his typical paranoia, but… 

“These look good,” Carmy praises. “Really good,” he reiterates, turning the delicate dessert around on its circular plate. Marcus beams, clearly pleased. It’s a small matcha cake with carefully placed layers of ganache and fruit. Carmy takes a bit of it with a fork, rolling the earthy and tangy flavors around on his tongue. 

“How is it?” Marcus asks, eyes firm on him.

“A little crumbly,” Carmy answers honestly. “Did you take my advice from last time?”

“I did,” he replies, frustration evident in his voice. “Think it’s the oven?”

“Maybe. Probably.” Carmy takes another bite. “Try a lower temp. Other than that, though, it’s excellent.”

“Thank you, chef,” Marcus says. “Means a lot.”

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” He claps Marcus on the back, short and quick. “You’ve been working hard. That’s all.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I have.” He pauses then, staring at Carmy. Just like how everyone has been all damn day. “Uh, Chef?”

“What?” He feels the impatience bubbling up in him, frustrated and confused. “People have been staring at my goddamn face all day like I got some shit on it.”

“You do,” Marcus says. “It’s not shit, though. Looks like…lipstick,” he says after a beat. 

“Lipstick?” A rock drops in his stomach. Carmy raises his hand to his face, searching. 

“On your left,” he clarifies. “By your ear.”

He rubs aggressively there, but he pulls his fingers back without any color on it.

“Did I get it?”

“Well, I thought you did.” Marcus makes a noise, thoughtful. “Guess it’s one of those permanent ones.”

“Permanent?” Carmy repeats, a little hysterical. 

“Semi permanent,” Marcus clarifies. He seems amused.

Carmy rushes into their small, shitty bathroom, getting close to the streaked mirror. He angles his head to find the stain. Sure enough, it’s right here on his cheek. It’s a dark, reddish color, in the smeared but recognizable shape of a kiss mark.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. His head feels hot. It must’ve happened last night, when they kissed him right before falling asleep. 

Semi-permanent, he hears Marcus say in the back of his head. Of course it is.

With a wet paper towel, he scrubs at the mark so hard it hurts. Even so, it remains, still clear on his pale, reddened skin. He wishes his hair was long enough to hide it.

“It’s not coming off,” he says, stressed upon returning to Marcus’ station. He hopes he doesn’t sound as hysterical as he feels. Sydney’s there too, chewing on the matcha pastry Carmy had earlier. “Why the fuck isn’t it coming off?”

“You’ll probably need a makeup wipe. I think I have some in my bag if you want one,” Sydney offers. Carmy swears she has a halo around her head. “Just a warning, though, they’re old as fuck. I haven’t worn makeup in a long time.”

“It’s fine. Can I take one?” Carmy runs a stressed hand through his hair. “Can’t believe no one fuckin’ told me. I—I fucking greeted customers like this!”

“It’s cool, Carm. At least it wasn’t a hickey,” Marcus reasons, and Carmy thinks his ears go hot. 

“Thank god,” he replies, sarcastic, and they have the nerve to laugh at him. “Shut up,” he tries, but there’s no real heat behind it. Sydney leaves and comes back with a semi-dried up makeup a minute later. 

“Don’t get mad if it doesn’t work,” Sydney states, a cautionary disclaimer. “It might be one of those that has a specific remover.”

“Are you serious?” The sigh that comes out is full of disdain. “Fuck me.”

“Day’s already almost done, if it makes it any better,” Marcus notes with a cheeky smile, and Carmy just shakes his head.

The makeup wipe doesn’t work. Carmy tries not to get mad, but maybe he does. Maybe just a little bit.

“It’ll come off with enough washes,” Sydney reassures him. Tina’s standing with her now, too, eyeing him like a spectacle. Everyone seems to be enjoying his misery. 

“Just ask your girl to get rid of it for you,” Tina says, an eyebrow raised. She raises a thumb to his cheek, rubs at the mark like a mom. “Damn. Shit’s on there.”

“They’re not—it’s not like that,” he sputters. He’s been trying to get through the day without anyone asking about it, but now that there’s some down time, there’s no stopping anyone. 

“A one night stand?” Tina guesses, eyes widening. She laughs and smacks him on the arm. “Didn’t think you had it in you, boy!”

“It’s not that, either,” Carmy stresses. He knows he’s getting overly flustered about it, but he can’t help it. His eyes flicker towards the clock. They’re closing soon. “Just forget it, okay? Please.”

He can tell from their expressions that neither of them want to forget about it, but by some stroke of luck, they’re considering letting it go. Just for now. That’s enough of a victory for now, so he’ll take it.

At least, it would’ve been a victory if Richie didn’t take that very opportunity to step into the kitchen. 

“Been trying to find you all day, bastard!” Richie hollers, slinging an arm over Carmy’s hunched shoulder. Carmy sighs, expressive in his annoyance. “Looks like this baby’s finally growing up, huh?”

“I’m 30, asshole,” Carmy says, tiredly, but that never works. Richie’s still talking, anyhow. 

“So? Do I know the chick?” Richie’s grin makes Carmy want to punch him.

“No,” he replies, flatly. He’s so tired. “And it’s not what you think. It was just, they’re, uh…”

“Oh shit, cousin!” Richie’s laughing, obnoxiously loud in his ears. “Didn’t think you were capable of—“

“It’s not a one night stand. Already guessed that,” Tina interrupts him. 

“What?” He sounds annoyed, like he has the right to be more irritated than Carmy himself. “Then what’s the secret third option? Or are you lying to my face?”

“They’re my roommate,” Carmy explains, finally.

There’s a beat of silence. And then, uproarious noise.

“You have a roommate?” Is Richie’s first question. The second: “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“Is, like, dating a roommate a good idea? No offense,” Sydney says, hands raised in defense. “Just wondering.”

“It’s not,” Tina answers for her, sharp eyes narrowed at him. But strangely enough, she’s smiling nonetheless. 

“They’re my roommate, we’re not dating, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be weird about it!” He shouts over the noise, directing the last one at Richie. “Look—they were just drunk, and I was helping them because they were fucking throwing up. Happy now?”

“And they kissed you,” Richie points out. He’s grinning like he knows some big secret.

“Fuck, okay, can we stop fucking talking about this now? It was just an accident, it’ll be gone tomorrow, and we’re never gonna mention this shit again!”

Carmy gets saved by some distant catastrophic noise in the back, somewhere around the freezer. He leaves without a word. Behind him, he hears raucous laughter mostly to Richie’s tune.

Before he leaves for the night, he stops by the bathroom one more to try and get it off. Predictably, it remains stubborn and stalwart through soap, hot water, and scrubbing. The skin under it is red with irritation, and Carmy knows that he's getting nowhere. If anything, he's making it worse. 

His eyes linger on the blotted lipstick on his face. It's smudged, but he can see the cracks and the shape of their lips. His gaze follows the lines of it. 

The memory burns bright in his head for a split second. It bursts in like a flashbang, intense and unavoidable. There's a phantom sensation of their lips on his cheek, the smell of their perfume, the warmth of their embrace, and it's, it's just—

Carmy shuts the lights off and heads out. He needs this lipstick mark gone by morning. 

When he gets home, the apartment is dark. Unoccupied. As he flicks on the lights, he searches for them. They're usually home before him most nights. However, it seems tonight is an anomaly. He walks down the hallway past his room to theirs, and their ajar door reveals an empty bedroom.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself. Just his luck. 

He opens his phone then, a last resort. He has his messages pulled up, but his thumbs hover over the keyboard and stay there. 

How the hell does he even word this?

Hey, I need lipstick remover. 

No, that isn't enough information. Who knows how many types of remover there could be? What if it isn't the right one? He needs to be more specific. 

Hey, I need lipstick remover for the lipstick you were wearing last night. 

That sounds even stranger. Too specific, although it's the truth. That's what he needs. But he can't just…type that, can he? No, there's no way. 

Is there any way he can get out of saying that there's lipstick on his face from last night and not make it weird? He wishes they were here so he could just show them. Words have never been his forte. There's little hope for him now. 

Please come home right now, he briefly considers typing. It's by far the worst one out of all of them. 

After pacing for a solid five minutes, he decides to send a hopefully neutral message. 

Hey, you out for the night?

It's still pretty weird. Carmy is not a texter. There's not much he needs to talk about that can't wait until he sees them next. They're usually the one texting him, and it's usually only about groceries or bills. However, he tells himself it's fine because there's no note left on the counter. They always leave a note when they go out.

…They always leave a note when they go out. 

This thought resets his pacing around the apartment, frantically looking for the square shape and vivid color of a sticky note. That's how they usually do it, and it's typically on the kitchen counter. So, it's honestly a futile effort to be looking around the whole place, but he does so anyway. 

He looks at his phone. It's been almost 10 minutes, and still no response. 

This isn't unnatural by any means. They always end up responding eventually, but the prickling anxiety is getting pricklier by the second. 

They've got to be so hungover. There's no way they're out again tonight, he thinks to himself, and he's positive it has to be true. 

They're missing, and you're not ever gonna get this shit off your face, his brain adds helpfully. 

That's what finally kicks him into gear and forces him to press the call button. 

It rings for a long time. The more it rings, the longer he stands there in the kitchen, the stupider and more anxious he feels. It's a pitiful feeling to be consumed by, but here he is, unable to resist. 

However, when they finally pick up, he's not sure if he feels completely relieved. A different part of his anxiety is spiking now.

“Carmy?” Their voice carries a trace of static through the phone speaker. 

“Yeah, hey. You see my text?”

“Oh, oops. Sorry, I missed it. Is everything ok?”

“Where are you?” He asks instead. 

“I'm just gettin’ a drink from the corner store. Why? You want me to grab something for you?”

The absolute nonchalance in their voice humbles him, reducing him to complete embarrassment.

“Uh, no, I don't need anything. I mean, uh, I do actually need something from you, though,” he amends hastily. 

“Sure, what's up? I guess it must be important if you're calling, right?”

“I, um—yeah, kinda important,” he says with attempted tranquility, completely ignoring how much he was freaking out earlier.  “So…you got, uh, lipstick remover?”

“Lipstick remover?” Their surprise makes him shrivel. “Well, I have a couple types of makeup remover…”

“I think it needs to be specific?”

“You think it needs to be specific? What exactly are we dealing with here?” Their voice carries bewildered amusement.

“It's, uh…” He swallows. He can't tiptoe around it anymore. “It's…yours?”

“...Huh?”

“You got some lipstick on me last night, and it's not coming off,” he says finally, mortifyingly, and the line goes silent. 

“Fucking—I'm so sorry, my memory is spotty from last night and I, I thought I imagined that, and, uh—” They awkwardly clear their throat. “I'm sorry, I really am. It's not supposed to transfer like that, but I guess it just…”

“It's okay,” he says, despite how hysterical it made him earlier. That part isn't their fault. “It's just, uh, really staying on there.”

“Shit. Of course. It's this super resilient lipstick I use for when I go out drinking, because it's not supposed to come off like, at all, so it comes with this specific remover—I'm sorry, I don’t need to be rambling like this.” They laugh nervously. “I'm on my way home now, but it should be on my desk if you wanna look at it. It's a black tube, which…isn't very specific, I guess. And my desk is really messy…”

“I'll start looking,” Carmy decides. 

“I'm sorry,” they reply miserably. 

“It's okay. You said you were coming home now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Cool. See you.”

The call ends. Carmy just stands there for a minute. It's like a tidal wave just rushed over him, and now the water is slowly settling to a stand still. 

Black tube, he thinks. How hard can that be?

Very hard, it seems. 

Their room is comfortably messy. Definitely not as messy as his. There's some clothes on the floor, jackets on chairs, underwear he turns his gaze away from (don't imagine them in that lace one lying in the corner or the flowery one or the fucking thong he didn't see anything), but that's about it. Nothing outside of typical clutter, in his opinion. 

The desk, though. The desk. 

He doesn't think he can even see the surface of it. There's just lots of little things scattered across it, from piles of jewelry to stacks of papers and books. It's like an ispy book. 

He stares at it, trying to find a black tube. He quickly realizes how much of a futile effort it's going to be. 

In this moment, he thinks about how he's never spent much time in their room. The two of them usually hang out in the living room. Besides, he's not one to go snooping around in someone's personal space. Until being pushed to his limits and being given explicit permission, that is.

He leans in, peering closer at the scattered items. There's a little bit of everything. Receipts, make-up brushes, scissors, paper scraps, empty water cups, hair ties, empty candy wrappers, lipsticks…none of which are black tubes. 

Maybe it's not on their desk. Maybe it's on a different shelf. 

They said it was on their desk, a voice in his head says, but he’s not listening.

The next closest thing is their nightstand. It's a little messy, but nowhere near as bad as their desk. There's a melatonin bottle, some lip balm, a bedside lamp. He squints, seeing what might be more pills or maybe skincare until a dark tube catches his eye.

When he picks it up, he realizes it's not black, instead being a dark blue. Also, it's not a tube, it's more of a bottle.

The text on it also reads as lube, not lipstick remover. 

…Lube?

It's lube, his brain repeats, helpful as ever. 

I can see that, he thinks back.

“Hello? Carmy?”

A familiar voice has him scrambling to put the lube back. He moves it back to the night stand more quickly than he could have ever expected of himself. 

“Hey, I'm in your room,” he calls back, hoping that his fabricated nonchalance comes off as believable. He steps out of their room into the hallway, and they appear at the end of it. 

The first he notices is how much better they look when he saw them last. To be fair, the last time he saw them, they were sobbing and throwing up into the toilet, drunk out of their mind, but still. It's still an improvement. Their cheeks are flushed from the cold, and their hair is mussed from being outside.

“Hey. Did you find it?” 

“I couldn't find it,” he admits. He steps out of the way to let them through, and then he follows them back into their room. 

“Yeah, sorry, my desk is a fucking nightmare,” they mutter darkly, making a beeline for their desk. “I swear I took it out and put it right here…Ah, yes!”

Miraculously, they pull it out. It looks like a lipstick in itself, and when they uncap it, it just looks like a white lip balm. 

“So, do I just…rub it on?”

“Well—yeah, you should, but it emulsifies with water, so you just use water and then use a cotton pad…” Carmy supposes the confusion isn't too well masked on his face. “Can I see where it is?” They ask tentatively. 

Wordlessly, Carmy turns his head. He supposes they're just glad they didn't see it immediately.

“Oh.” When he turns to face them again, their cheeks are dark with color. It's not a look he's used to seeing on them. “I'm sorry,” they say again with a downturned head. 

“It's okay,” Carmy says again, and he means it. He brings a hand to his cheek subconsciously. “I just…”

“Let me take it off,” they insist, guilt knitted in their expression, and that's how Carmy ends up seated on the toilet seat. 

“Now I'm the one getting patched up on the toilet,” he says quietly. He wonders if it was the wrong thing to say, but it makes them laugh.

“So, um, when did you notice?” They ask. The tube uncaps with a small pop.

“A couple hours ago,” he admits. The balm feels smooth and oily against his cheek. “I had no idea, but my coworkers, uh…”

“Oh my god,” they mutter under their breath. “I just don't think I'm ever gonna stop apologizing for this.”

“It's fine, really,” he insists, even though he was manically scrubbing at his skin earlier. “It was sorta funny,” he adds, even though he was freaking out while everyone else was laughing. They don't need to know. 

“That's good, at least.”

“Yeah. It was—uh…”

He feels their thumb rubbing circles into his cheek, and the words disintegrate like sand in the wind. 

“Sorry, this is just one of those things that takes a little bit of work to get off.” Their tone projects a casual indifference to it, but their voice is so quiet that it feels unfairly intimate. 

“I didn't know lipstick could be this…intense,” Carmy hears himself say. He's far away, still trapped in the feeling of their hand on his face. 

“It's what you need for an intense night out,” they reply with a small smile. He looks up at them then, meeting their dark eyes, but they're concentrated on the spot on his cheek. When they catch him looking, though, they don't look away.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks quietly. He can’t stop looking.

“A lot better. Yesterday was rough, but I'm feeling okay now.” 

“Good.”

“Yeah. Um…” They lean back, breaking eye contact, and Carmy feels a pressure releasing. They grab a wet paper towel and carefully drag it across his cheek. “Thanks again, by the way. For putting up with me last night. I mean, it was more than just putting up, but…y'know.”

“Sure,” he says, much softer than intended. “It happens.”

“I think you're just nice,” they tease, fully intended to be light-hearted, but because Carmy's the way that he is, it weighs heavily in his chest. 

“Sometimes,” he mumbles, because that's all he can bear to say.

Because last night, they looked him in the eyes and whispered that they wanted to know him. That they thought he was sweet, he was kind. They spoke with such earnestness that for a split second, Carmy considered believing them about everything, even though that’s always the wrong thing to do.

Because once he believes them a little bit, he’ll start acting like he’s a good person. He’ll fool everyone around him, even himself. 

Then, the inevitability that is his self-destruction will arrive like it’s always promised. He will mess everything up like he always does, sharp-edged flaws unfurling from the inside out. They’ll slice everyone he was able to fool into getting close enough.

The least he can do is try and give some kindness back before it happens.

“Just take the compliment,” they say with a small grin. “Y'know, I don't remember everything from last night. There's bits and pieces I know that're missing. But from what I do remember…” They make one final wipe at his cheek. “You have to let me be nice to you.”

He remembers, too. 

So deal with it, they had said. Me caring about you.

“How could I forget,” he tries to joke, but his laugh comes out sounding far too breathless. Luckily for him, their laugh, much more tangible and believable, joins his own. 

“I said some crazy shit last night, I know.” They take a seat next to him on the edge of the bathtub. “But I meant it. I like being your friend, Carmy. I hope I didn’t say too much.”

“You didn't say too much. You were just drunk.” He feels a bit stunned. 

“Okay,” they accept after a beat. “I mean, you're right. I was just drunk. Um…” They gesture towards his face. “I got the mark off, by the way.”

Carmy stands up and checks his face in the mirror. Sure enough, it's gone. He feels relief wash over him like a breeze, and another feeling he can't place. It's…It's…

“Thanks,” he says, and they nod. 

“It's the least I could do.” They stand up, too, and walk out of the bathroom. They stand in the doorway for a moment before looking at him. “I'm gonna smoke. You wanna join?”

It's…

“Yeah, for sure. I'll be just a sec.”

Then it's just him in the bathroom, the door shut as he stares at his reflection. The harsh fluorescent bathroom light casts harshly down the planes of his face, creating dark shapes on his face. He stares at the spot where the lipstick mark used to be. The longer he stares, the more the unnamed feeling stretches outwards. 

When it drops in his stomach, that’s when he realizes.

The feeling is disappointment.

~

@zorrasucia

[sugar-omi]

Piggybacking off your last hc. Step 4 Cove DEFINITELY repays the favor when you are older. He forgives but he won't forget it. Once he gets more open and smug about it he waits until you aren't expecting it.

"Now you understand how I felt." With the biggest grin on his face. Absolutely ruining you for the foreseeable future.

YES YES YES THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT IM ALWAYS THINKING ABT !!!! i think this is from after i posted *this post. this draft has been sitting here awhile, im so sorry....

tags : NSFW, gn reader, dom/top cove, mayhaps a tad ooc, high libido cove+reader,

older cove becoming more confident in pleasing you, becomes less shy about all his desires and how much he wants you.

and now it's his turn to ruin you.

afterall, you edged and overstimulated him so many times. you've shamelessly begged for just one more round or "just let me get you off once, please?" and you two still ended up sneaking away from your friends or family for a quickie.

now it's his turn to beg for a quickie before you go to work.. "i'll make it worthwhile so please?..."

between those puppy eyes and the promise of the best head you could and will ever get in your life, you can't exactly say no~

even if he doesn't end up pulling you into the bed for a quick round before work, you end pulling him in.

one morning you were showering, cove on the other side of the curtain, fluttering about trying to get ready for the day

and you really did try to ignore your urges. you thought if maybe you just waited for him to finish brushing his teeth, you could shower in peace.

but distance makes the heart grow fonder, even if the only distance is a few feet between the shower and your bedroom, and your heart is your aching sex.

even when you slip your fingers into your cunt / wrap your hand around your cock, it isn't enough. you're e just fucking yourself on your fingers / into your hand so pitifully you can't ignore it anymore

cove almost laughs when you call for him, all pitiful needing him, needing his cock. anything. you just need him to make you cum

he'd be so torn between giving in and fucking you over the counter, and hopefully he either isn't dressed or isn't wearing his best pants because otherwise they'll end up soaked in water

doesn't matter, though, since he gets to see your lewd satisfied expressions in the mirror, and he gets to see you limp, melting into the counter after you finish

but he'd definitely consider leaving you pent up..

kisses you and tells you that you can do it when you get home, and if he's feeling bold, he'll outrightly tell you that if you behave, he'll fuck you once you get home <3

mmm we talked about this a long time ago, but not being able to cum without cove...

after all those years of bringing cove outta his shell sexually, practically training him to please you, and making him crave your body...

you didn't realize you were doing the same to yourself.

after all, you were the one fucking cove senseless and practically milking him.

sucking him off in the middle of your date, all the hot birthday sex, fucking him or being fucked by him...

oh and especially when you made him cum over and over again, pulling all you could from his poor cock until he all but sobbed about how he couldn't cum again

you loved how much he craved you, spurred on by the raging horiness of most teenagers, the two of you feeding off each other in that way, and hs tauntilizing partner

but now it's totally backfired on you, now you just feel restless when you finish by yourself. almost needing your boyfriend in order to have a satisfying orgasm

and some nights you do, more specifically the nights you and cove are apart

doesn't matter which one of you is away for work or just on a trip, cove preens when you call him, all breathless and needy, trying and failing to get yourself off

encourages you to tell him more, tell him how you need him.

i wonder if he'd make you facetime him so he can see how needy you are, see how much of a mess you make of yourself

promises to fuck you once you or him gets home

oh and he holds up to that promise, the luggage hitting the floor and he closes the door louder than he'd have liked, and fumbles to blindly get the locks and chain done up

will fuck you until there's tears in your eyea, if not rolling down your cheeks.

if he ends up fucking you all night, and you finish many more times before him..

well you did help build up his stamina, so you can't really blame him for being able to keep it up so long

he'd be happy to remind you of it as well!!

he'll have you caged between his arms, his hips pistoning into yours, the bed hitting the wall and you're on the verge of tears...

all while he's growling about how you spent so long teasing him, almost using him for a fucktoy when you were helplessly horny in the dead of night

how you used to always pull him aside or sneak in, how you two would take advantage of every second you had alone...

although he's happy to be gentle, that way he can enjoy pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you, and can devour the sight of your lewd expressions and loud moans

don't feel bad, though, for corrupting your sweet boyfriend, you two are soulmates after all, so you two can handle each other in desperate times like these, right? <33

[saturngalore]

hiii i just wanna say thank you so much to everyone on this list and those following me because in some way you’ve all made my year! i really enjoy seeing yalls posts and knowing that y’all are creating something truly unique for the simblr community whether that’s via your own sim creations, creating builds and cc, writing nicely written stories, and/or just supporting those around you! and i think most of y’all are black so yasssss go black excellence 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾 black simblr >>>>

@invisiblequeen @riverofjazzsims omg thank y’all SO much for helping me test almost all my cc and always creating such lovely sims, stories, and backdrops to go with my hairs 🥹 y’all have kept me going and really motivated me to keep creating my hairs because i know that y’all will give me much appreciated feedback and support no matter what 💗

@prematurehag @yngblkarawak @simphic @daminini @blackskorpi0n @simsadilla y’all are literally so creative that it blows my mind like every single post y’all do especially the renders are so so good like they’re all masterpieces! y’all just leave me in awe every time so pls keep doing what you do bc simblr would be extremely bland without y’all 🫶🏾

@xmiramira i used to watch so many of your sims 4 videos and gta livestreams on youtube and your melanin skins were literally a godsend when sims 4 first started like almost everyone couldn’t create a black sim without your skins so thank you so much for being one of the best black simmers ever and tysm for showing me so much love i could literally faint knowing that you follow me and like my content🫶🏾🫶🏾

@browntrait i know you’re not active rn but and i already told you this but you’re literally one of the main reasons why i wanted to create a simblr! your edits and your sims especially zenya had such an impact on me like i literally saved your edits on my phone bc i wanted to do something similar with my own stuff. you are my inspiration!!! 🙏🏾

@thaplumbob @yuyulie @fizzysugar @aghilasims @helloavocadooo @gnael @darlyssims @sims4bradshaw @earthmoonz @hdmiports @l-e-i-k-o @koibish @cowboycid @armadoth @francescalater @orphyd @boneheelda @mangosimoothie @minaevesmoths @mrsimqle @chaunceydollz @sleepingsims @thestarboysims @starshinesims @zohrou @bonneblah @kimorasimz @meoanii @simtric @glazeio @faestelle @kyaikoo + many others (im so sorry my memory is terrible 😭) i don’t want this post to get too long but the rest of y’all are amazing in your own ways like creating sims that i can instantly recognize that they’re yours without looking at the username, commenting or leaving such sweet tags on my posts which is my favorite thing ever, helping me test my cc or posting your sims in my cc (like !!!!), inspiring me almost everyday, or making me laugh or smile thru a brief yet lovely interaction with you! just thank you so much again and have a lovely 2024!!! 💗🫶🏾🫡

[ilyfynn]

its a beautiful life. fynn hits 100k written this year. it's been a long journey and i thank everyone who has ever even clicked onto a work of mine. its difficult, sometimes, being stupid and a writer simultaneously. ignore the low numbers im a small fandom writer and i have a nother account ok

similarly, my mcsrtober also reached 1k hits which makes it my first fic with 1k hits yay thank you <3

highlights below. im gonna ramble ofc i am

swallow's mate. yeah its not the longest fic ever but i put so much time and effort and i am so so so so so so so proud of it and will always be. the world is a river of crackling chaos and i am the vengeance that simmers inside it

hiraeth. YES I WILL FINISH IT ONE DAY. ITS GOT REALLY NICE LORE. being the first bigger project i've tried to write since i unretired from mcsr, i adored being able to a) worldbuild and b) WRITE IN CHAPTERS. its so hard to write fics in one go my patience wears itself out

lappel du vide. you know nothing about lappel yet. you know nothing, but the plan was like 4k words and now you know something. boy do i have things planned for these stupid ranked runners. the darkness came when doogile was just a boy, after all

mcsrtober. im not as proud of my mcsrtober because i like editing things over and over and over again and mcsrtober simply doesnt allow the time for that. however i think i cooked really hard on some of the prompts and the ones yet to come (peepocute banger one on the 26th i think). like day 2. a full-on 4+1 fic. beautiful

there's a lot to come, i think. theres so many thoughts and not enough time to express them, and im only going to get more and more busy from now on. it's going to be walright. you know, theres a cool thing called a winter big bang, and the word count is projected to be around 18k...and its a oneshot...........................

then i can retire from writing longfics in one go and go back to chaptered becuase WOW chaptered is easier. AHHHHHHH

thank you for reading. this and all my fics. thank you @goober890 (i would be a liar if i didnt say i tried to tag ur ao3 😭) for being the first ever member of the fynn fanclub. thank you @bioluminescentfrog for putting up with me through the whole process of the fics to come. its been - not quite a long journey, but an eventful one all the same. from one mongey to another, i salute all of you.

i

[mylove-thresher]

You should totally ramble to me about ships you like :3 However many you like I’m just curious uwu

(I didn’t answer this as soon as I got it bc I was thinking about what to say lolz 😭)

tbh I like most ships as long as it’s not problematic or I find them weird/that they don’t have much chemistry. I also don’t mind poly or platonic ships (duh). I’d be sitting here all day yapping ab the ships I like/am okay w bc frankly it doesn’t have to strictly be character A X character B, I think it could also be character A X character C, etc. as long as it’s not any wrong. I won’t be going apeshit(/neg) over ships that I don’t like as much or have like a 2 year age gap. I mean, I think it starts to get weird when there’s 4 years of difference. I think people do too much when they hate on less popular ships smh if it’s nothing weird then let ppl have fun w their little kitty witties smh 😞

Huge yapping starts here vvv

Some ships I like tho r a lot of Ghibli movie couples in general bc they’re just super cute and I love the writing Ghibli does for its characters (I want what they have.). I also like Yukito/Yue X Touya and Syaoran X Sakura from CCS but that doesn’t mean I don’t also like Tomoko X Sakura (pretty sure Tomoko implied to like her anyway). I also like some other side ships from CCS but I barely remember their names bc it’s been so long since I’ve watched it and Netflix took it down 💔. CCS ships r cute in general I think, I’ve never seen any problematic ship (except that one girl X her fucking teacher. Pookie. You’re like 13. Don’t date ur teacher. And she was so pretty too bro why did they make her a questionable character 😭). And now. Getting to jjba my beloved. Since I unfortunately focus so so so much on p5 those are the only ships I’ll yap ab 😢. Huge honorable mention to Jonathan X Erina (jonaeri) tho they’re super cute together even if a lot of ppl said they barely have screen time and stuff :3. Anyway. Part 5. I honestly don’t care much about ships in la squadra as long as they had some form of interaction y’know (I don’t pay too much attention to La squadra anyway 💔). Usually ppl get really divided when it comes to Bucci gang ships tho. Honestly I’d rather see them all as a friend group that see each other as siblings to avoid all that shipping, but I admit I really like some pairings, like fugonara, bruabba, giotrish, futrish, naratrish, etc. I really don’t mind it that much (I don’t rlly ship mista w anyone bc I just don’t think there’s anybody matching his freak 😭). I mainly ship fugonara as you can see just bc to me it makes a lot of sense even if I also see them under platonic light. If there’s fugo, there’s narancia, and if there’s narancia, there’s fugo. I just find that rlly cute :3. I also like their backstories and how they tie together and the narancia death scene ripped my heart out in the anime so (IM CRYING AGAIN JUST FROM THINKING AB IT STOP 💔). Again that doesn’t mean I dislike the other ships, I just don’t pay much attention to them or think they had as much chemistry or time together. I love seeing my fave characters tho, so it’s not like I won’t like the content if there’s like gionara or something. Honestly I like seeing ppl have fun w their cutie patooties as long as it’s not too controversial, once again. It’s rlly a shame that ppl can jump at each others throat bc they disagree on a mere ship. It’s literally not gonna alter your life. Also, bc I say a ship some bucci gang characters doesn’t mean I don’t also ship them platonically. (I’ll type it like it’s ao3 tags lolz. Pretty sure & instead of / is for platonic, right?) I rlly like Narancia&Mista&Fugo (torture dance trio is literally the best friendship ever to me bc wdym you did a coordinated dance w ur homies to torture someone that’s so cool). There are also a few others, but they don’t come to mind rn (and there’s a f,y in my room annoying me.) You know what I think I gave jjba way too much attention. I also like Mimi X Sheshe (my fav lesbians fr 😍) from mermaid melody pichi pichi pitch. They tried censoring them by making them “sisters”, but they were blatantly and very obviously lesbians. Like vro. They are touching each other so homoerotically and have complimenting colours. And I think that’s most of it…

I don’t wanna make this any longer than it is so um. Yeah. This was a ramble. I didn’t realize it was so long lolz. But yeah it’s basically that :3

[beesmygod]

today is webcomics day. i am bea and i make "A Ghost Story" - part 1: pre-gaming

webcomic day is a yearly celebration of the art form concocted by the screentones podcast team as a way for people to see how the sausage gets made. my webcomic "a ghost story" has been running for over 10 years, and yet i still don't think i can say i am good at making a webcomic. regardless, the comic is getting made because otherwise i become very, very sick in the head. today i would like to share with you the process of making a page of "A Ghost Story" from start to finish. either this demystifies the process or will make you think im so cool and strong for doing this 2x a week. instead of reblogging this one post until it gets very long, i will be posting individual updates that i will then compile and post on my personal website. block the tags now if you HATE comics and want them to EXPLODE.

if you have any questions, even things like "what the fuck are you even talking about" feel free to ask. i want to feel confident in what i make again and i think sometimes interrogation from an outside source is really

---

that said, let's get started. wait just kidding i want a cup of coffee first, hold on.

ok now im ready. i have a big glass of water. i have coffee. i have a headset for the parts of work that don't involve typing words. i can't type words and listen to some streamer babble in my ear at the same time, so it has to be instrumental music or nothing. i just took my meds so they should kick in after about 30 mins. i woke up late today, which is weird and annoying. but maybe i can work late instead.

first off, i need to know where i'm going beyond this one page. if i dont know where im going with something, then i usually create something that sucks that i have to deal with later. hold on my internet died, i have to reset the router. ok, anyway.

what's rattling around in my brain is that not only do i have to deal with maxine's current predicament, i am also dealing with multiple plot elements i need to wrap back around to from the previous chapter. luckily, im about to put maxine down for a nap, which means i can get back to those other elements:

i need to finish the exposition from the three ankou characters for this story arc establishing their motivations as the oppositional force in the story. the "villain" is not these three specifically, but their boss. they need to have a loose understanding of what's going on in order to communicate this to the audience. god this started turning into a huge ass paragraph so i'll just keep it short there.

we've jumped back to before jack's horrible day from the first chapter of this storyline so we have to make our way back toward that and then lapping it, which means wrapping up his various open threads like:

feeding victoria and learning something new about her

finding out alice is a very exceptional employee who is getting many awards

watching valdo call lily while interrupting her during something personal to ask her for help with maxine's situation.

jack meeting with valdo and lily the day after they first met so jack can just tell them straight up that lily has 4 sisters she doesnt know about.

help that girl with her poltergeist problem. remember that. i've had jokes for this rattling in my head for like 4 years. im going insane.

and also the fucking tilberi!!! that has a point its going somewhere!!! there's a larger menace here!!!

other things to set up the climax of this storyline. sexual tensions, hints at larger emotional problems not immediately evident to the reader

lots of moving parts. and i feel like im moving in slow motion to get to them. i can see them all weaving together in my head, its the process of putting that onto paper that's proving difficult.

ok that took an hour starting and stopping. -_- let me write the next part as i keep brainstorming on how to approach this page. taking a "rubber duck" approach to this might help. heres an image from the last page i worked on (i have a 5 page buffer rn so the site does not match the finished pages) to get us semi-situated.

also because images will help people understand what skill level we're working with here. i need to be able to communicate an idea to the audience; if the art also looks good on top of that, then that's just an added bonus. but the ability to communicate my ideas is sometimes hampered by my lack of artistic skill or comics language ineptitude. like those speech bubbles kind of fucking suck but at a certain point you have to just hit print on what you're working on in order to keep your already glacial pace.

webcomics is a tightrope act where you're also spinning 4 plates at once. the trick is to keep the audience from realizing how many actually fall or how wobbly they all are. the act sucks but technically its not a failure.