#i still actually have an hour left of my shift but jesus christ. it's been a day. it's been a fuckin day to be sure .

[grodyego]

* walks out of work drenched in blood but with a paper plate stacked with smoked brisket *

[atimeofyourlife]

A family Thanksgiving

This was supposed to be up yesterday, but it took on a mind of its own and instead of the few hundred words it was supposed to be, its nearly 3k. Happy belated Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates! rated: t | wc: 2847 | cw: period typical homophobia, Steve's asshole parents

The offers from everyone to have him over for Thanksgiving had been great, any other year he would have loved such a choice, but for the first time in a long time, he was spending the day with family.

"But you hate your family." Dustin pointed out when Steve had told everyone about his holiday plans.

"No, I hate my parents. It's my grandma that asked me to go, and I want to see her and my cousins that I haven't seen in like five years. I'm driving myself to Chicago, so I won't be stuck in a car with my parents for hours on end." Steve explained.

"But you're working a late the day before, and I'm not going to cover you so you can drive up early" Robin replied.

"I'm planning on leaving by six on Thanksgiving morning. It's less than four hours to drive, so I'll be there before ten, well nine because of the timezone change. I took the late shift the day before so I had an excuse to drive myself, and my parents wouldn't have any reason to come by Hawkins before. And I drive home either the Friday or the Saturday, ready for our Sunday shift."

Come Thanksgiving day, Steve was somewhat regretting his decision. It had been nearly midnight before he'd gotten home, after a number of people came in just before closing insistent on needing a selection of movies ready for the next day. Then hadn't been happy when the movies they wanted weren't in stock, so they left the place a total mess, causing Steve to stay late to tidy up ready for the opener the next day. Then having to get up around five, so he could get ready and be on track to leave as planned. In an attempt to wake up, he was mostly surviving on a large cup of incredibly strong coffee. He was just counting down the minutes until he could get there.

When he walked in the door, he was immediately wrapped up in a hug from his grandma. "Stevie, it's so good to see you."

"It's great to see you too, Grandma." He returned the hug, melting into it a little. Exactly what he needed after the year it had been.

"Let me take a look at you." She stepped back slightly, giving him a once over. Her hand came up to trace the scar still on his neck from where he had been strangled by the bats and vines. "What happened here?"

"I. It's nothing. It looks a lot worse than it is." Steve replied, trying to get out of the awkwardness of the conversation.

"Oh, if you're sure. If you want to help with dinner, you can join us in the kitchen. But if you just want to rest, anyone who's watching football is in the living room, and the Macy's parade is on in the den."

"It's been a long drive, and I had a late finish last night, so I think I'm going to take a bit of a break. I might come out and help a bit later." He offered.

"Oh, honey. If you don't feel up to it, you don't need to help at all. Take it easy, and we'll call you once everything is ready." She kissed Steve on the cheek, before going back to the kitchen.

Steve made his way through the house, glancing into the living room as he passed. He could see his dad in one of the recliners, and decided against joining them. Wanting to delay the inevitable "you're a disappointment" lecture. He knew his mom would likely be in the kitchen, not actually helping, just drinking wine and gossiping. He moved on to the den, where most of his cousins were. He hovered in the doorway for a second, unsure what to say. So much had changed since the last time he had seen any of them.

"Wait, Stevie?" One of them, Lizzie, said as she looked up to see him.

"Uh, hey?" Steve replied, a little unsure, before he was being swamped in a group hug.

"Jesus Christ, when did this happen? Last time I saw you, you were like a little kid. Now you're a whole grown adult." Another, Mark, said.

After a long catch up, bringing Steve up to date on everyone else's lives, and him giving an abridged highlights of his last few years, they then got into more serious topics.

"Was everything okay after the earthquakes? I tried calling a few times, but I don't know if I had the wrong number because it never went through." Alice, the oldest of his cousins, asked.

"The phones were down across the whole town for a while after, then it was patchy for weeks after that. It was hard to get five or ten minutes without it dropping out. It took me like two weeks before I was able to get hold of mom and dad to let them know that the house was still standing, and that I was still alive." Steve explained.

"Wait, they weren't in Hawkins for the earthquakes?" Harry cut in.

"No, they've not been in Hawkins since February? Like over a month before it happened."

"Oh. They were telling us last night about how awful and hard it had been during the earthquakes, and how they were scared for their lives." Alice replied.

"That's such bullshit. They weren't in the country when it happened, they were in London. They didn't even know that it was Hawkins that was affected until I called them, because all they'd seen on the news was a freak earthquake hitting the Midwest. It hadn't even specified the state. And then they didn't care how I was, if I was hurt or anything, all they were interested in was if there was damage to the house, and how the earthquake could affect the resale value."

"Okay, I call dibs about bringing that up over dinner. I just want to see what shade of purple Uncle Dick can turn." Becca, the closest cousin to Steve in age, piped up. "But were you hurt?"

"Uh, minor injuries. Nothing serious." Steve lied, not wanting to worry anyone. "I was able to start volunteering within a couple of days. You know, helping out at the relief center, helping search for missing people. And when everything calmed down I was helping rebuild and stuff. Just trying to do my bit. But I'm fine now."

"That's good. But thinking of Uncle Dick turning purple, who gets to bring up Fuck Reagan?" Mark asked.

"Stevie's been through the most, I think he should get the chance." Alice replied.

"Uh, I think that would go down about as well as if I told him that my best friend is a dyke and I've spent most of my free time in the last six months sucking off the local drug dealer, who was accused of being a cult leader and murdering three people." Steve said quickly, unsure if he wanted anyone else to pick up what he'd said.

"Was that for drugs, or for fun, or what? Like a hook up?" Harry asked.

"He's my boyfriend. I mean, it helps that I get free weed out of him, but I'd do it anyway." Steve admitted.

"That is something you missed out of your round up. But I love that all of us are some variation of queer."

Dinner was...interesting, to say the least. After saying Grace, they went round the table to say what they were thankful for that year. Steve had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing as his parents waxed on and on about how they were thankful for their lives and being able to escape the earthquake unscathed. He couldn't keep from laughing when Becca spoke up against them.

"Really? Because Alice asked Steve how he found it after the earthquakes, and he said that he couldn't reach you for two weeks after it happened because the phones were down and you were in London. And you didn't even know that it had hit Hawkins until he called you."

"Steven, why are you telling lies about us?" His mother demanded.

"I wasn't? You weren't in Hawkins when the earthquake hit. You've not been there since February. When I was finally able to call you, you only cared about how the house was, not if I was hurt. And you were pissed that I hadn't called you sooner, despite the fact the phone lines were down for the whole town. I could have died or been injured in hospital, and you wouldn't have known."

"How dare-" His father started, only to be cut off by Steve's grandmother.

"Settle down. There's no need for arguing. I am inclined to believe Steve, because I do remember you telling me that you were going to be spending a few months in Europe at the start of this year."

Both of Steve's parents were visibly unhappy, but they didn't push it any further, allowing the rest of the family to talk about what they were thankful for.

Many small conversations broke out over the table, Steve loving the feeling of being surrounded by family for the first time in a long time. He got pulled into talking to different people, but he did his best to avoid his parents' eye. Not wanting to get trapped by them telling him all the ways he had bothered them since he'd last seen them. But he knew they were up to something, when his father got up before dessert was served.

"Before we have anything else, we do have a big announcement about the future of our family." He said, using the voice he always used when talking to the most important clients.

"You've sucked enough political dick to get what ever tax exemption you were after?" Lizzie asked, before anyone could take it too seriously.

Steve's dad just spluttered in anger as a call of "Elizabeth." Came from at least four different people around the table.

"Ignoring that horrible interruption. What I was going to tell everyone is about Steven's imminent engagement. He is going to be proposing to Melissa Downey, the daughter of my business partner, at Christmas, they've been seeing each other for nearly eighteen months now, and it is going to mean big things for our family."

Steve couldn't respond, processing what had just been said, as everyone started speaking, some offering congratulations, others in confusion.

"That's news to me." Steve said loudly, to get over everyone's voices, once he could form the words. "I'm not planning on proposing to anyone."

"Well, Arthur and I have been discussing it, and it is the only thing that makes sense now, the two of you have been together for long enough, the logical next step is engagement."

"I'm not dating Melissa. We went on one date over a year ago, just after I graduated. It was awful, all she was interested in was if I made enough money to bankroll her spending addiction. I made up a fake emergency to get out of it, and I would rather stick forks in my eyes than suffer through that again." Steve got to his feet, bracing his hands on the table. Knowing he'd been right not to be optimistic that the holiday could pass without incident.

"You will if you know what's good for you. If you don't, it could destroy our business. You wouldn't want to be the reason we go broke, would you? You could end up homeless. Where would you live?"

"First, I have plenty of friends who would be happy to take me in if I had nowhere else to go. It's something we talked about after the earthquake, because some people I know did have damage caused to their homes and I let them stay with me until they could move back in. Second, I don't really care about whether or not you go broke. You don't provide any money to me. You haven't since I started working at Scoops. I pay for all my food, gas, clothes. If you go broke, my financial position won't change at all. And third, I can't propose to her. I'm in a relationship, and we're both very happy."

"Is it that Buckley girl? Or did you somehow manage to convince that Wheeler girl that you're actually worth something? Because I can tell you now, you are going to break up with whatever little slut-"

"His name is Eddie." Steve shouted before he could think it through, and a silence fell across the room. "That's right. Your son is one of those awful queers that you keep campaigning against, to keep them illegal and get them locked up. And you know what? He's easily the best sex I've ever had. Especially when we get high first."

"Why you-" His father roared, his face turning a dark red in anger. "How dare you do this to us? After everything we have done for you. You'd better hope that those friends of yours would be willing to take you in, because you are not living under my roof any longer. You will have until the end of the weekend to collect your belongings, anything left will be burned."

"Except, it isn't your roof, is it Richard? If I remember correctly, I was the one who paid the mortgage. My name is the one on the deed to the property in Hawkins. I just allowed you to live there, rent-free might I add, because it made sense for you to live somewhere close to Indianapolis when your business was taking off. I had been planning to sell up. So I think maybe you should be the one to collect your belongings from that house, because I'm not sure if I want you living under my roof any longer. It sounds life you're almost never there, anyway." Steve's grandma replied.

"But, mother-" His father started.

"But nothing, Richard. I don't know where you learnt your hateful attitude, because I know I did not raise you to be the sort of man that would kick your own son out over something as minor as who he loves. I really thought you were a better man than that."

"It's disgusting." Steve's mother added. "So unnatural, and that disease."

"What is disgusting is your bigotry. I think I want you both out from under my roof, now. So, if you would both kindly leave. And I expect you to move your belongings from the house in Hawkins, as that is now Steve's house, not yours. And you better not touch anything that isn't yours, or cause any damage, because I will take legal advice." Steve's grandmother stood up, anger radiating from her tiny five foot frame. "And, unless you change and apologize for your outdated beliefs, you can forget any inheritance. I will not have any of my money going to support hatred."

"Mother,"

"Leave, Richard. Now. I'm not afraid to get the police involved here."

Steve's parents looked at him with their faces filled with utter disgust, before they turned and left. His grandmother escorting them off the property.

"Are you okay, Stevie?" His grandmother asked after the end of the meal.

"I. I think so. I think I need to make a couple of phone calls." He replied.

"Use any of the phones, dear. Maybe if you know someone who can keep an eye on the house."

"Yeah. I babysit for the chief of police sometimes, so I might call him. He'll make sure nothing happens."

"Good. And, if you're talking to that boy of yours, tell him that he's got to come up here for Christmas. I want to meet him, and make sure he's good enough for you."

"Grandma." Steve protested.

"I'm just saying." She replied before walking away.

Steve shut himself in one of the bedrooms, for a little privacy from the still crowded house while he made the calls. The call to Hopper was quick, just outlining what was going on, and Hopper agreed to keep a check on the house until Steve was back in Hawkins. Then it was the call to Eddie.

"Baby, I wasn't expecting you to call. How's your Thanksgiving?"

"Interesting. My parents decided to announce that I was going to propose to dad's business partner's daughter. They wouldn't accept that I wasn't interested in her so I accidentally came out."

"Shit, I hope that didn't go too bad?"

"Uh, it could have gone worse? Somehow me coming out got my parents removed from the will and kicked out of the house. Because my grandma wasn't happy with them being assholes about it."

"Oh, badass grandma. I kinda want to meet her now."

"I was hoping you would say something like that. Because she has told me that you have to come here for Christmas. She wants to make sure that you're good enough." Steve couldn't help smiling as he talked, somehow the day had gone so much better than he'd ever hoped.

[stargirlwrites]

Not just s-ex

Jungkook x f.reader

-> slight amut, angst, fluff

-> warnings: TW! - mentions of r4pe. , unprotected sex, slut shaming, angry Jungkook, high sex drive reader, crying, they get into nasty argument :(

☆ ------ ︻╦╤─ ҉ -¨ * ‧₊˚*♡ * *” ♡. ♡ ------ ☆

Jungkook didn't know what to do about you. When you first told him about having a high sex drive he didn't think much of it. He lost his virginity to you, he didn't know anything else but you so he understood everything about your body, but recently you've been asking for sex way more than you usually do.

You two spend more time having sex than actually hanging out together. So he's going to confront you in the nicest way possible.

-

"F-faster please koo!" You whine out as Jungkooks cock hits every right spot inside of you, you swear he's all inside your tummy. Making you feel euphoric.

His hips snap against yours as he feels you clenching around him, knowing you're about to cum. You feel his thrust get sloppier as you let out high pitched screams, not caring about the neighbors. It wasn't short after until Jungkook gave you your third cream pie of the night. Yay unprotected sex your favorite. (Don't do it you'll die.)

After you two were finished, Jungkook was exhausted. You two went at it for 3 rounds and he is completely out of it. You two cleaned yourselves up and changed the cum stained sheets. Jungkook layed down on his spot, holding you close as he kisses you goodnight and tries to close his eyes to drift away in his own little dream land. Until he felt you shift and move onto his body.

He opens his eyes and let's out a little sigh. Of course you're still horny. Of course you still want to have sex.

"Baby.. look we'll do it tomorrow night I promise I'm just very tired so-" You cut him off with your bratty little voice

"Mmm but I want you s-so so.. so bad. Want it again" you started to rub yourself against Jungkooks soft crotch. You and Jungkook usually do this. You thought he was just doing the silly little foreplay like usually.. but he wasn't.

His hands gently hold your hips still, preventing you from making any movement. You pout your lips and remove his hands, putting them on your breast instead

"You can have me all the time. Always want you.." you started to grind on his crotch again, letting out small moans when your clit rubs against his clothed cock.

His once soft hands turn aggressive, you yelp when you feel jungkook slightly above you off of him. It actually kind of hurt he wasn't being very gentle.

"Ohhh I know what you want" you giggle and try to remove Jungkooks boxers, still thinking it'd apart of your little foreplay you two usually do, forgetting about his harsh grip.

Jungkook sighs angrily and grips your wrist and shoves you harder away from him. His grip was hard and left redness on your wrist. You yelp a small "Jungkook.." before he responds

"God damn it ___ can you stop being a horny freak for once and leave my cock alone Jesus christ." You didn't know you were going something wrong. You thought he wanted to..

"I- ... I thought-.. this was never a problem before I mean-"

"No, maybe if you weren't such a fucking slut begging for dick every hour this wouldn't be a problem. You're a whore. No self respect for yourself what so ever."

You couldn't believe Jungkook was this mad with you. If he would have actually talked to you before hand you wouldn't do anything he's uncomfortable with, never.

Tears escape your eyes as you make tiny sobs but Jungkooks mouth keeps running. His mouth keeps going as he gets up and starts dressing, like he's going somewhere. This only makes your breathing get harder.

"Do you even know all the stories I heard about you? All the men that's confessed of being inside of you without protection? They even had evidence, everyone at my fucking Job knows. That's why I fear fucking you raw, don't know what kind of disease I'll catch."

And that's where he crossed the line.

You wrap your body in your fluffy pink robe, quickly getting up to face him. His irritated face faces your pink puffy one with tears streaming down.

You slap him.

"How fucking dare you. How could you s-say that to me. I know I have a problem I'm sorry. Maybe if you just talk to me this wouldn't be a problem. I... I w-was fucking räpĕd by .. by 4 boys in high-school and they never got punishment for it. Sorry that it'll fuck me up in ways."

Jungkooks eyes widen when he hears his words. Well he's a fucking asshole. Before he could say anything you beat him to his problem pity words

"Don't care what you say. Don't want to see you please leave, we can talk later. Not tonight."

-

That night you went to bed alone. For the first time in 2 years you slept in bed without him by your side. It was a long night. Thoughts rambling in both of your minds, Regret and pain. You regretted taking your past sexual frustration on him and not telling him your dark past. It was painful. Jungkook regretted saying all those nasty things to you and not listening to the screams of help you silently screamed. It was painful because he hurt the one he truly loved. He hurt you and it hurt him to know that you were hurt. It hurts him to see you crumble apart because of him.

It wasn't that long after Jungkook stopped crashing at his cousins soyeons place. You and him talked it out. You opened up to him completely and he listened. He reminded you how much he loved you. He reminded not just you but himself how much of a fucking idiot he is.

You're getting help with your high sex drive problem. Of course you and Jungkook still have sex, just instead of every day its twice a week. It feels good. It feels good knowing that you can feel good without sexual acts. That you can feel good with the one you love, and his name is Jeon Jungkook.

-

( hope you guys enjoyed this. It's short but it's something. Love all of y'all and thank you so much for reading my fics. I have longer ones coming soon!! You can always leave requests too <3!!) - stargirl ���

*Jungkook is so babygirl I need to write more sub!jk.*

[anachilles]

Prompt: “Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, lemme just—”

Pairing: Crosby x Bubbles

hi, friend! thanks so much for the prompt! i've come back to this one sitting in my inbox after a couple days now of just thinking these guys are the cutest, amidst my most recent rewatch of the series lol. little slice of life tidbit from my 🚒🥃 firehouse!au, hope that's okay! 🫶

It was just gone 10:30pm when the key started jiggling in the lock.

Joe turned to the door immediately from where he was perched in semi-darkness at the dining table, laptop open at his left hand, a worn-down pencil in his right, with a sketchbook just beyond it.

Turns out, if he actually wanted to do some of the kind of art that had led him down this particular career path in the first place, around the hours he was putting into this internship he was on, then he'd have to carve it out for himself.

He watched in silent amusement as Harry seamlessly navigated the same routine he trod through every night he had a bar shift, so practiced at this stage he could likely do it in his sleep.

He had done once and all, when he'd misread a bottle of Nyquil and ended up doing three times the recommended dose before conking out.

In through the front door, lock it, keys in the bowl by the door so he always knew where they were if they weren't in his pocket. A deep, exaggerated exhale before shucking off his bag and outer layers. Toe off his shoes, shove them in the shoe rack, pad one, two, three, four, five over to the kitchen space...

Their place was tiny (cozy and intimate, they preferred), so the fact that Harry hadn't clocked Joe sitting there made the whole thing even more funny.

It hadn't been intentional, but just as Crosby unfurled a half-empty bag of mini-pretzel sticks he'd scavenged from the cupboard, Joe loudly, pointedly cleared his throat. The other man jumped nearly half a foot in the air, pretzel pieces scattering across the countertop that separated them.

"Snacks before dinner, Harry Crosby?" Joe exclaimed, in his best 'nagging housewife' impression, though even then couldn't keep the playful smirk off his face. "After I slave away over a hot stove so you have a nice, home-cooked meal to come back to?"

"Jesus Christ! Where did you come from?" Harry said, breathless, before picking up one of the wasted pretzels and popping it in his mouth. He shrugged, "An appetiser, obviously."

Joe turned back round to the table, though he could see Harry's reflection in the black, slumbering laptop screen. "It’s only spaghetti; in the fridge for whenever you want it," he said, but could already see Harry abandoning the kitchen altogether and making his way over to him.

Smiling a little to himself, he welcomed Harry's arms as they slid down either side of his neck, and instinctively tilted his head upwards to accept the kiss he knew from said well-practiced routine was coming. The other man's lips were cold from braving the elements outside, as was the tip of his nose where it pressed into his cheek with the extra kiss he snuck in there before tucking his chin into the crook of Joe's neck.

"What're you still doing up? Don't you have work in the morning?" Harry asked.

Joe's hand snaked round to hold the nape of Harry's neck, fingertips scritching lightly into the raven-coloured hair at the base. "Eh, it's not too late. Didn't see you before you left this morning, figured since it was a Thursday you'd be first cut at the bar. Wanted to wait up for you."

Harry's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "'...since it was a Thursday...'?"

"Ain't that the night you work with Gale? Everett too, a lot of the time?"

"Yeah?"

Joe scoffed out a laugh. "Where they 'let' you take first cut so they get a couple extra hours to moon at those firefighters?"

There was a beat of silence as Harry seemed to consider such an idea, and while he was pondering, Joe moved forward a little bit so he was leant over his sketchpad again, bringing Harry with him. He jerked his head a little as his bangs threatened to fall into his eyesight from both sides.

“Huh," Harry breathed. Putting two and two together.

“Not that I can imagine what Gale ‘mooning’ would look like…” Joe said, pencil scratching the paper as he added a couple more lines, and used his other hand to pull back his bangs from his face.

Only for them to flop right back down again.

Harry shrugged. He'd known Gale a couple of years now, and liked him a lot; respected him a hell of a lot. But... “Subtler than most, for sure, but definitely there. In his own way." He paused, smiling to himself as he quipped, like he was reciting from a book of poetry. "Like a solid old Oak tree."

Joe snorted with laughter, having to flick his hair out of his eyes again. "Hope you're not moonin' at no firefighters..."

Harry looked scandalised for a moment. "Me? Never," he said, tightening his hold around Joe's shoulders. "Although... there is one of them. Blond, with big long 90's boyband bangs that are always falling in his face." He raked his fingers through Joe's own with the remark, pulling the hair up out of his face for him. "So I guess you never know."

Joe tilted his head back in the direction his hair was being pulled, to find Harry looking back at him with fond eyes, all big and dark and doe-like, despite his smirk, and affection curled warm in his chest.

"Yeah, well whoever he is he's welcome to you," Joe shot back just as Harry was about to kiss his cheek again. He pushed him away with a gentle little shove against his mouth, shrieking a little when Harry swooped back in with a playful, retaliatory little nibble instead.

"No he's not!"

"Yes, he is!"

[sneakyspades]

ok yknow what im just gonna straight up vent about work rn bc i ran out of tags on the other post

its become such a fucking shitshow down there jesus christ i cannot fucking stand it anymore. communication doesnt exist, i dont even remember the last time back of house had a fucking meeting. the owner pushed for us to stay open during a blizzard where it was a wind chill of -40. i mean holy fuck, the city said dont travel unless its an emergency

i had issues on sunday that i wasnt sure about, but our chef was out of town doing a show with his band, and our sous chef was sitting at the bar in the restaurant a good 5 or 6 beers deep by the time i ran into this problem. i asked the other supervisor (who agrees with me that this is a shitshow) and he wasnt sure either so we straight up guessed

i only make 15 an hour despite having been there for a whole fucking year, because i only get supervisor pay when im clocked in as supervisor. which is a measly 8 of my 40 hours. but god forbid i dont act like a supervisor for all 40 hours

insurance is unsustainably expensive there. my coworker who makes 13.50 an hour takes home *more than i do per paycheck* at this point. and he works 32 hours! i havent taken home more than 750 a pay check since getting insurance! i used to be grossing 1000! IM LITERALLY PAYING 175 DOLLARS EVERY PAY CHECK! AND THATS ABOUT TO GO UP TO ALMOST 180 WHEN I TURN 27! im not making any fucking money! im not getting any savings!

not to mention they fucked up my insurance not that long ago! i was told at the doctors office and the pharmacy that i had zero coverage! but they were still taking money from my fucking paycheck for it! like holy fuck i shouldve talked to goddamn lawyer about that instead of giving them the benefit of the doubt!

i was 110% fine with making 15 an hour and doing nothing but pizzas. because the trade off was that i could cut out early, i could trade shifts, if i got sick it wasnt fucking everyone else over. but now i cant do any of that. i have to close on saturdays, dont get home and in bed until 1:30 some nights, and then have to get up and go do a 10 hour shift every sunday. every weekend! every fucking weekend! and im the only one that does that anymore! im not the only one doing a double on sunday, but im the only one who has to close the night before. and because im just exhausted by the end of a sunday, my mondays are practically wasted because im catching up on sleep!

i like. cant fucking do this anymore. i cant think of any reason why im still there. i could go worl at fucking sams club in the bakery, start at the same wage (if not more), have *less* responsibilities, be doing something i want to do, and they close at 8 every day. i dont think theyre even open on sundays!

why am i still working there? its not sustainable for me anymore. my body is fucked. its falling apart ahead of schedule. i cant even open my door in the morning because of carpal tunnel. im 26 and when i crouch down i cant always get back up. the other night my ankle just started popping every time i turned around. what am i doing? what am i doing. i dont know.

i dont even have energy left over to draw. or make stained glass. or even do a discord call. the last time i had an actual date with my partner was, what, like 4 fucking months ago? i dont have any energy left over. im using it all for a place that i dont enjoy working at anymore, and i know i wont get better hours. our sous chef has been here since the place opened and he only has night shifts. the only day he doesnt is sunday. which is 8am to 3pm.

our new hire has sunday-monday off. why cant i have that? i want a weekend day off. its not gonna happen in this industry. its not gonna happen in this kitchen. i cant do this for the next however many years,

[thedragonqueen1998]

I am once again going to rant and rage at AC 3:

WHO in their goddamned fucking mind decided that the shift key is both sprinting and climbing AT THE SAME TIME!? I cannot tell you how many times ive tried desperatly to run from guards, only to start climbing houses because i got too close to them and the game decided that i wanted to climb! And ofc i keep jumping between 2 boxes instead of going down on the floor to attack someone. It keeps fucking happening and im REALLY starting to hate the engine they used.

.

And how in THE everliving FUCK did they manage to create a combat system thats both shallow and insanely complicated at the same time!? HOW!? It is shallow because you only have 3 buttons: left click to Attack, spacebar to Break Defense and E to parry/counter, but it's complicated because each of those 3 actions can do a million different things the game just DOESNT TELL you about! Like, for example: Grabbing. In the old games i think it was Shift for grabbing and thats fucking awesome, but in this game it's not a button on its own. It is tied to the E button and some other button combo i CANNOT find out. The internet keeps saying things like; "it's the A button after a counter"(Dont know if it actually is, theres so many fucking button combos) and im just like, "WHAT IS THE A BUTTON ON KEYBOARD!?". When i go into the controls section theres nothing on what different button combos do, its just "E is the interact button".

And ofc the game makes it so some enemies cant be parried or countered or breaking defense wont work on them. OR NONE OF THEM WORK! I had to look up guides to learn that this game apperantly has a system that if an enemy attacks you 3-4 times, you can break defense on them, when before that wouldnt work. You know, that is a pretty good mechanic to spice combat up. IF THE GAME FUCKING TOLD YOU ABOUT IT! I am so fucking sick and tired of this game not telling or explaing jack shit about how the mechanics are different from older games. Nothing is explained, NOTHING!

God, i have had less than an hour of fun with this game and ive been playing for idk how long now. Seversl real life weeks and 60 hours+ i think i saw on my save file? And i keep having to take several day long breaks from this game as it literally brings me to tears everytime. Todays stream made me cry in under 30 minutes. 30 MINUTES! God, i hate this game! I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT

Cant wait to be done with this piece of shit ass game and actually play a game that i can actually fucking enjoy for more than a minute. This is literally THE WORST game i have ever had the displeasure of playing. And im still not fucking done. God, im getting fucking depressed and suicidal from this game. I dont have the mental health or capacity to play this game anymore, but because of my personality type(addictive) i FUCKING CANT STOP PLAYING THIS PIECE OF SHIT GAME!

Jesus christ, Edward, fucking save me from your shit son and grandson.

[asbestieos]

long vent post about my shitty workplace environment, under a readmore because its a lot of frustration and its very very long

jesus christ ok i need to talk about this bc not even a minute into my shift, the shitty shift lead on at the time jumps me and tells me to train this brand new coworker for the last thirty minutes of his shift. immediately after that she leans in and mutters to me about how hes slow and both she and the manager fucking hate him. he is two feet away within earshot at the front register. i go ok no problem! (fakest smile ive ever given from under my mask) and jump right into training

turns out HE HASNT BEEN ON BAR FOR HIS ENTIRE FIRST WEEK OUT OF TRAINING. HE HASNT HAD ANY CHANCES TO PRACTICE MAKING DRINKS. hes slow BECAUSE HE ISNT BEING GIVEN THE OPPORTUNITY TO LEARN. for so many reasons. they schedule him during peak customer hours so they force him to rush when he doesnt even have the basics down yet. they expect him to know everything straight out of two-week’s training but a FUNDAMENTAL EXPECTATION of the job is that you LEARN AS YOU WORK and you wont even have everything down pat until AT LEAST three months into the job. even then, there will still be things you dont fucking know. he doesnt even have many shifts scheduled per week so not only is he not put on bar, but also hes just not at the fucking store often per week so of course he doesnt learn as fast. not only that but i found out that shitty shift lead AND the literally STORE MANAGER both CONSTANTLY SHITTALK HIM EVEN WHEN HE IS ON SHIFT WITH HIM.

is this how we’re fucking treating new coworkers now?? how is he supposed to learn and acclimate to the store?? yes this is a fast paced workplace, yes he needs to pick things up quick but hes not going to know the recipes if hes constantly rushed, if he has no support and no one to ask questions, if hes put on food warming, if hes CONSTANTLY FUCKING BULLIED WHILE WORKING BY THE PEOPLE WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO ENCOURAGE HIM

i dont even fucking know what to say. he works again tomorrow with the same white bitches bullying him. i can only hope the brief training we did today gave him a little hit of confidence because he was literally spectacular and he was constantly looking to help with new drinks when he seriously shouldve been focused on learning. its not his fault at all, i dont blame him for trying to optimize for speed and time when hes been made fun of for being slow. im so pissed at management on his behalf. he stayed ten minutes after his shift ended to help me and i had to tell him to go home because he didnt want to leave me hanging (he shouldnt have to worry about me! or the store! especially when hes still in the learning period!). i was the only one he said goodbye to when he left. i taught him how to cancel shots because apparently his shitty trainer hadnt taught him to do that.

after he left, a coworker told me that today was the first time they had EVER heard his voice because HE DOESNT ASK ANYONE QUESTIONS. what kind of trainer / shift lead scares newbies so much, they dont ask questions?! what kind of work environment makes it so theyre scared to ask questions?! youre supposed to ask questions so fucking much in the beginning! youre supposed to be so annoying in your learning period! youre supposed to fuck up constantly! its been two hours since my shift ended and im still so fucking hung up on how horribly hes been treated. this isnt even the first trainee to face these same issues. another partner trained by the same shitty trainer WAS ALSO set up for failure in the same way.

this is fucking ridiculous! i need to think about what to do about this because we’re going to scare away all our fucking newbies at this rate! holy literal actual fucking shit!

[chronicallyillphoenix]

Been busy nonstop since i woke up (7:30am) and i am so fucking tired and irritable. I still have up to 1.5 hours of class left (i am hoping that we end early)

The most relaxing point of today was probably honestly that ABI test at my cardios at like 9:30am. I just got to lay there and listen to my bloodflow inside my vessels and get my bp taken and that was pretty cool to hear. The drive there took a whole hour tho (the way back had no traffic and was a little under 30 minutes to give an idea on traffic)

I had to rush to do an entire assignment during the little downtime i had between the ABI test and my psych appointment, which was probably the most stressful part of the day. It sucked. It is 100% my fault for not doing it during all of spring break and i know this, i just forgot and only focused on my other classes assignment. I am probably not going to get the best grade on this assignmnt tbh because i am not even sure if the answers to the questions were comprehensible

Psych appointment overall sucked but also its whats expected atp. Im so tired of people who know nothing about dealing with chronic pain telling me what i should do to make it better and that if im not doing xyz thing they think would help then obviously im not trying. Like maam there is a reason that i dont wear a brace during work and doing so would in fact make the pain worse and to the point that i wouldnt even be able to do my actual shift and i already am doing my pt stretches before and afterwards jesus christ. Also idk how many times i have to tell her that there a certain things that have to be done a certain way and that changing the way theyre done would make things worse overall yet i dont think she understands this. I luckily did get her to approve more emergency anxiety meds which should be helpful because it has been getting worse in general (due to stuff in therapy and also just some big life changes) and i have been avoiding taking a klonopin when needed due to only having one left. So at least theres that

I also had to go to the dentist today but i was not expected to get a whole ass root canal done today i thought i was just there for the evaluation. Which like yay it got done but also christ it cost so much and they didnt accept payment plans so i feel terrible because my mom said to go ahead and pay it and shell pay the credit card bill off in installments (or something like that i dont know how credit cards work) because she couldnt afford the full price atm. And i also have a colonoscopy thursday that also costs a lot (luckily that one we can do payment plans tho)

I am just. So tired. I just want class to be over with i dont want to think anymore i just want to go hangout with my friend and have my last meal before starting gi prep tomorrow for the colonoscopy. That is the only thing getting me through this class right now

[oumaheroes]

hey just wanted to ask if you have more storys with north & scotland? i really love how you write them <33

Number one of @needcake prompts 2.0!

'1) North + Scotland - a fishing trip to a far off place without wifi'

Characters: Scotland, Northern Ireland

-----

‘This is shit.’

With a great patience that he was pleasantly surprised to find he still had, Scotland said held his tongue.

North shifted in his spot in the boat next to him, swapping the leg he had folded underneath him from right to left, and leant back heavily against the side.

Scotland gave him a sharp look as the boat rocked slightly in response but North only rolled his eyes, squinting up against the near midday sun, ‘The fish won’t care.’

‘They’ll care.’ Scotland said softly.

‘What?’

‘They’ll care.’

‘I can’t hear you if you’re whispering.’

‘I’m going to beat you to a bloody pulp in a minute; keep your voice down.’

North huffed and pulled his phone out of his pocket, retreating deeper into his hoodie, ‘This is bollocks.’

‘Mind your line.’

‘Why? There’s nothing on the end of it.’

Scotland clicked his tongue and focused back on his own fishing rod, the almost invisible line bobbing a fair distance away, ‘There might be if you were quiet.’

‘We’ve been sat here for hours and nothing’s happened, like.’

‘Aye, right. You keep on with your moaning and your whingeing that you’re not catching anything; that’ll fix it.’

‘I don’t care about catching anything, only that-‘

‘Shhhh! For Christ’s sake.’

They lapsed back into silence. With his fingers resting lightly on the base of the rod, out of a need to keep up appearances that he was doing something more than anything else, after about half an hour Scotland felt the slight twitch of interest and took hold of it in preparation. In the distance, the line bobbed. Scotland got ready, grip tightening on the rod and the other hand ready to fight and reel it in but, at that moment, North looked at his phone and gave a particularly displeased grunt and whatever it read. The water flipped as something very quickly swam away.

‘Oh!’ North turned at the sound and pointed out across the water, ‘Shit, you might actually have something.’

‘I had something.’ Scotland cursed something in Brythonic he was glad North couldn’t understand and reached into the ice cooler by his feet for a beer. All morning they’d been out and not a single successful catch, barely any near misses either. This far from the shore and still in early spring there were few people around this early to scare anything off, aside from serious fishermen, but for some reason nothing was biting.

North settled back down, disappointed, and quickly flicking his eyes back to his phone, ‘What time are we heading back.’

‘A few hours; you’re right that there’s shit all here. Get dinner at that pub we passed on the way here if you’d like, then pitch up on the banks to the West.’

‘No, when are we going back back. To yours.’

Scotland swallowed and ran his tongue over his teeth, the cheap beer leaving a slightly bitter aftertaste in his mouth, ‘Why.’

North paused and thumbed at his dark phone screen. He took too long to answer and Scotland clicked his fingers at him sharply to prompt a faster response.

North shrugged, ‘Just wondering.’

‘No, you’re not.’

 ‘My friend was asking to meet up on Sunday so I wanted to-’

‘No, don’t lie.’ Scotland turned around to face him properly, careful of his still unmoving rod where it was propped against the wooden sides, ‘You’re bored and you want to go back early.’

‘No!’ North had the decency to blush, ‘Well, I mean it is boring as all shit but there’s no data up here, so-’

‘Data? Jesus Christ.’

‘What?’

‘What the fuck do you need that for?’

‘What else am I going to do?’

Scotland waved a hand wildly out at the lake around them, ‘Oh I don’t know; fish? Be offline for five bloody minutes?’

North pulled a face.

Scotland snorted and shook his head. Knocking back the majority of his beer, he picked up his rod and began winding his line in.

‘What are you doing?’ North looked at him warily.

‘We’re going back.’

‘What?’

‘That’s what you want, ain’t it?’

‘No!’ North scrabbled to his knees and made as if to grab the rod from Scotland’s hands to stop him. One sharp look kept him back and he sat on his feet, hands raised placatingly, ‘We don’t need to go in, I said that I wanted to stay.’

‘Aye, I know what you said,’ Scotland continued to wind his line in, ‘But you’ve not shown one lick of interest since we came out this morning and I’m not going to be sat about here wasting my time just for you to piss and moan all day.’

‘I wasn’t.’ North ran his hands through his hair, a gesture so oddly England-like that Scotland wanted to throw him overboard, ‘I want to stay.’

‘Don’t even know why you asked to come out here in the first place,’ Scotland said, ignoring him entirely. Grabbing his hook as it emerged, he took off the bait and chucked it into the water, ‘You’ve never shown any interest before; don’t know why I bloody bother.’

‘Al-’

‘Going on about it out of nowhere: “Oh take me next time you go!” And there you are, I finally give in, book myself a nice long weekend off from work and on the first day you’re fed up.’ Scotland snorted and picked up the oars. With strong strokes he began to take them back to shore, hatefully noticing some fish zip away from them, ‘A waste of bloody time.’

‘It’s not a waste,’ North’s hands jerked again, a repressed urge to snatch the oars as if that could stop things unravelling, ‘You’ve got pissy for no reason.’

‘No reason?’ Scotland stopped rowing and regarded North seriously, ‘Do you like fishing.’

North hesitated, ‘No.’

‘Then why the fuck are we here.’

North’s cheeks burnt scarlet. He sat back fully against the side of the boat as he had been before and flipped his phone between his fingers.

‘I ain’t playing this wordless mime act with you, talk to me or shut up.’

North scowled but lifted his head to meet Scotland’s gaze, ‘I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. You go with Patrick all the time and you both go on about how much you look forward to it; it sounded good.’

Scotland was baffled, ‘Aye. Because we both like fishing.’

‘No, it’s not that.’

North flipped his phone faster and looked out over the lake. He gave an awkward, one-armed shrug, ‘I know you both…talk when you go. And I wanted to…’ flip flip flip, ‘You know. Me and you don’t really… so I thought if we went…’

A not so unpleasant bloom of warmth brought a sudden lump to Scotland’s throat. He’d been looking forward to this trip, more than he’d ever actually admit to, and had been happy that North had wanted to spend time with him as just themselves alone. He spent more time with England or Ireland than anyone else these days and in the past few years, Scotland had felt more and more as though he and North were growing distant.

Clearing his throat, Scotland smacked an oar against the surface of the lake, shocking North with the sound before splashing him with water

‘What the fuck was that for?!’ North spluttered, wiping at his eyes and picking at his now drenched hoodie with disgust. Scotland was pleased to see that his phone hadn’t escaped unharmed.

‘You’re a fucking ejgit.’

North slicked back his hair and scowled at him, ‘Why.’

‘Because me and Patrick go fishing because we like fishing,’ Scotland began to row them again, shaking his head, ‘Absolute gobshite. We could have done anything fucking else; you like gigs?’

North took a second to answer, watching Scotland cautiously as if he might splash him again or attack in another unexpected way, ‘Yeah?’

‘Right, there you are. We’ll go to some gigs. Chippy on the walk back, stay in a hotel; that sort of thing. Sound good?’

‘Yeah,’ North’s mouth eased into a soft, small smile. It was a genuine one, and the first one Scotland had been directed at him in a while, ‘Yeah that sounds good.’

‘Good. Now, dig about the cooler and get us out some of them pasties. I put some crisps in there that you like too.’

‘…didn’t Arthur make these?’

‘Aye but if you tell him they’re any good I’m dragging you back up here by the toes and drowning you.’

[yunopouts]

1,2,3 - n. jaemin

-> pairing: sadist(kinda)!jaemin x fem reader

-> genre: filth smut

-> warnings: spanking, unprotected sex, rough sex (kinda? not really tho), oral (f receiving), biting, fingering, handjob, overstimulation, squirting, creampie

-> word count: 2.1k

this is some weird shit. prepare yourselves.

The ending is where the actual filth starts (literally for like 2.3 seconds tho)

I am so sorry.

After laying in bed for literally five hours, you decided to get up and walk around your apartment. Your boyfriend was at work and you couldn’t go out because you’re living during a fucking pandemic (w/n: YES MAKE THAT SHIT REALISTIC😩), so you were stuck at home. All by yourself, with nothing to do.

You walked yourself to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbed out the juice.

“I can just drink from the carton.” You thought out loud. “No, that's kinda gross, I can’t do that.” You shook your head and just grabbed a glass from the cabinet. Thinking of what you should do, you wandered around, sipping your juice from time to time. “I don’t want to watch tv, cause I just finished doing that. Jesus Christ, this shouldn’t be that hard to do.” You whined, stamping your feet like a child throwing a tantrum to get what they want.

Heaving a sigh, you continued moping around.

“Screw this, I’m just gonna shower.” You chugged your juice and set the glass in the sink before heading to the bathroom.

-

When you walked out of the bathroom all clean, you headed to the living room- where you were unexpectedly met by your boyfriend, Jaemin, who was sitting on the couch. You stopped in the entry way, making eye contact with him and smiled when he called you over.

“How's my pretty girl doing?” he asked, looking up at you with a lazy smile. His hands traveled from your waist, around to your ass and down to the back of your thighs, sliding up and down.

“Fine, bored.” You replied with a sigh. “You okay?” you ran your fingers through his hair. Jaemin leaned forward, pressing his lips just above the waistband of your pants.

“So perfect.” He purred in response, kissing you again, slowly moving further and further down your waist. His eyes connected with yours, glassy, dark and filled with lust. From your thighs, Jaemin’s hands went up and started to tug down your pants, helping him by shimmying out of them.

Standing up, Jaemin brought you into a kiss, one that was slow yet needy at the same time. You gasped when you felt a burning sensation against your ass. Jaemin smirked against your lips, doing it again, making you moan this time.

Arms wrapping around your waist, you lead your boyfriend backwards, slow enough to get there without tripping on anything. As you kissed, Jaemin kneaded your ass, groaned into you and pressed you against his groin, where you felt his erection.

You reached your bedroom, and your boyfriend pushed you down, your back hitting the soft mattress. Practically ripping off your panties, Jaemin spread your knees apart, licking a stripe up your pussy. “My pretty girl has such a pretty pussy that’s so so wet for me.” He said, spreading apart your lips. The boy stared in awe at your glistening heat. “It never seizes to fascinate me at how fast you get so wet for me.”

Without warning, he shoved two fingers into your hole, savagely ramming them into you. Nothing left your mouth; nothing could leave your mouth, not even a croak. He hadn’t even actually started to fuck you; it was just with his fingers and your voice was caught in your throat.

“What?” Jaemin stopped. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” you couldn’t respond as you were still trying to catch your breath.

“S-sorry, just feels good.” You managed to choke out, finally getting air back into your lungs. With a satisfied smirk, he re-inserted his fingers, but thrust at a painfully slow speed. “Jaemin, faster.” You whined.

“Ah, ah, ah~ don’t get greedy, pretty girl.” He continued with his pace, curling his fingers up from time to time. “You know how much I hate greedy people.” The boy leaned forward, placing the flat of his tongue against your clit. He moved the muscle quickly, making you cry out in pleasure. Your hands flew to his hair, pulling and running your fingers through it. “You know,” he spoke between licks. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Jaemin attached his lips to your clit and sucked before letting go of it with a ‘pop’.

“In the studio, when we were recording ‘Make A Wish’;” the thrusts of his fingers slowly increased. “When we were in the practice rooms.” He used his tongue again, swirling it around to lap up all your arousal.

“That’s… sweet.” You choked back on a moan but failed miserably.

The sweet noises you were eliciting from your clit being flicked and abused was enough to get your boyfriend grinding against the bed.

“Oh fuck.” You moved you’re hips to the feeling, needing more, to which he pulled out.

Jaemin left from your core and was now hovering above you. When you met his eyes, forcing you to witness him sucking his fingers that were practically dripping with your wetness. That action alone was enough to make you shake as your first orgasm washed over you.

Jaemin watched this happen, moaning in pleasure and delight; the fact that you came from a simple glace at him turned him on a lot..

“I got so hard that Taeyong sent me home early.” He stated. Jaemin licked his lip before almost closing all the space you had between your faces.

Almost, is the key word.

He stayed hovering, lips three centimeters away from your own. You tried to kiss him, but that made your boyfriend move backwards. When you pouted, he moved back to the same spot, smirking. “Turn around for me, beautiful.”

His tone was deep and full of mischief. It got you kind of worried, but you complied, slowly shifting your body so that your back was to him. Jaemin pressed against your back, making you feel his erection against your ass, as he brought his lips to your shoulder and kissed it lightly.

Suddenly, you felt something sharp in the same place where he kissed you and you hissed, pushing against him. He let out a throaty moan in your ear, more arousal dripping from your heat. He licked, kissed, sucked and bit his way down, littering your back with all sorts of shaped markings. When he reached the small of your back, he stopped.

He pulled away before he started to knead your ass. “You look so good from behind.” You could practically hear the smirk in his cocky tone. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

“Then do it.” You said.

“Patience, pretty girl.” He instructed, going silent for a second, before sending down the palm of his hand against your ass. You yelped in pain, shoving your face into the pillows of your shared bed.

“That’s one.” He grunt before smacking you again. “Two; three;” he continued until he reached ten, your ass stinging. “All done.” He sighed as he brought you back up, gently turning you around so that he could see your tear stained face. “Sorry, pretty girl.” He kissed your closed eyelids.

You shook your head slightly, “It felt good.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled against your forehead. Jaemin brought his pants down, revealing his clothed cock. “Help me out with this one, will you?” the boy asked you once he noticed you were staring down at the darkened spot on his underwear.

Your hand found its way into his boxers, grabbing his dick. Connecting his lips with yours, Jaemin mewled at the feeling of both your lips and your hand on him. Your thumb gently touched the tip, spreading around the precum. Your wrist worked in circular motions, sliding up and down his shaft, making the boy a moaning mess. He bucked his hips in time with your actions, letting out a shaky sigh against you.

“Shit.” Jaemin parted from your lips so he could throw his head back in pleasure. “Fuck, I’m so close.” He whined.

Three more strokes and the deed was done; Jaemin’s cock was twitching in your hand as you let him ride out his orgasm.

“You’re still hard.” You stated, staring at his dick, that was still very hard.

“Didn’t I explicitly tell you how fucking horny I was today?” he glanced at you with a raised brow.

“Oh, right.” You recalled. “Get on with it then.” Jaemin let out a laugh, kissing you once again before moving back on top of you.

Just like he did before with his fingers, Jaemin pushed into you with out warning, leaving you breathless once again. He thrust in and out of you slowly, thoroughly enjoying your pleads to go faster.

“You’re such a good girl.” He growled, placing a finger on your clit, rubbing harsh circles as he pumped in and out of you at a pace that satisfied you. A hand slid up your torso, finding its place around one of your breasts. He squeezed it a bit and played with the nipple, rolling it in between two fingers. “God, I love you.”

Jaemins cock felt so good. It filled all the space available in your pussy and your walls always clenched around him, whether you meant to do it or not.

The boy let go of your tit and pulled your hips impossibly closer to his, leaning in, fucking you faster and deeper than before. He pushed your waist down, squeezing so hard that you were sure to have marks from his nails later. Lowering your eyes ever so slightly, you watched how your boyfriends’ eyes were trained on what was poking out every so often when he plowed back into you. The tips of your fingers traced the area in which he was looking at so intently, making him moan loudly.

“Do you like it when I fuck you hard like this.” He asked, finally connecting your eyes again. “Fuck, I can see where my dick hits you.” You bit your lip and nodded, grabbing at his arm and giving it a light squeeze, letting him know that you were close.

“Do it.” He huffed. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

Jaemin fucked you through your second orgasm, but continued to rail you, like nothing had happened.

“No more.” You whined in protest, clawing at his back as he adjusted his position.

“Haven’t cum.” He remarked.

Twelve minutes more and Jaemin was still at it, fucking you nice and hard.

After a while, the pain and pleasure of cumming for a third time had finally come to an end when his snapping hips had come to a sputtering stop, allowing himself to release inside you. Jaemin bit into your nape as he came, your fingers slowly drawing small patterns on his back. He pulled out, somehow still hard, but at least not fully.

When he rolled off top of you, he brought you into his legs, spreading them open and keeping them that way, using his own legs. Traveling to your cum filled hole, his fingers entered you, slowly pumping in and out. His left hand found itself at your clit, adding more stimulation to your already overstimulated heat.

“Fuck, Jaemin.” You yelped, writhing in his arms.

“We both know what you want, pretty girl.” He spoke in a condescending tone. “So be quiet for me until I give it to you.” He nipped at your earlobe. You complied, moaning instead of a worded answer. “That’s my girl.” You felt him smirk against the skin of your neck.

The motions his fingers were making on your clit soon became bigger and stronger; the fingers in your hole sometimes pulling out to smear his cum on the rest of your pussy, re-inserting themselves afterwards.

The wetness of your pussy and his cum mixing together made the filthiest of noises, but to Jaemin, your moans were all he could hear, sending him into orbit, causing his fingers to move quicker and quicker.

You tried inhaling, but barely any air actually made it into your lungs.

“J-Jae-” you gasped. In your ear was a deep chuckle, meaning Jaemin probably came back to earth when he heard the heavenly noises coming from your pussy.

“Fuck, scream my fucking name.” hands working at the speed of light as you came.

And this time you came hard.

Harder than you have before.

So hard that you squirt, juices leaking everywhere on your sheets.

As you screamed, like Jaemin said, his voice raised too, laughing out in amazement.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” Was all you heard him say before passing out.

[logmosswrites]

That Hum of Night

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Hanzo Shimada x fem!reader x Jesse McCree

Words: 4k

Warning: NSFW! 18+ only. Definitely PWP, wet dreams, BDSM dynamics, Dom Hanzo and Jesse, Sub reader, dirty talk, humiliation/degredation (verbal and otherwise), praise kink, nipple play, dry humping, rope bondage, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, orgasm delay/denial, vibrator use, unsafe sex, creampie, oral sex/cunnilingus, come marking, aftercare. No y/n.

Author's note: cross posted to AO3.

There was nothing but heat. No up, no down, no world at all outside of the bodies pressed against yours. Your legs parted to make room for them, urging them closer still with every whimper and moan rolling off of your lips. You were hopelessly desperate, open and dripping for anything that would fill you. Fingers lazily fucked you open, joining a writhing tongue inside of your pussy. Hanzo and Jesse were everywhere all at once, sating your hunger as quickly as it appeared. Their mouths claimed every inch of skin they could find, the hot flash of teeth and tongue on your neck leaving you to gasp for air. You thrust your hips forward, shame long abandoned to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Please, you begged, just at the precipice of orgasm. Suddenly, deft fingers latched onto your aching clit, hard and punishing; you rocked with them, winding tighter and tighter until-

You woke up.

Slowly, the world came back to you, trickling in like a leaking faucet. Your mouth was dry; your heart pounded in your ears. You felt overheated, damp with sweat where you were sandwiched between Jesse and Hanzo- oh shit, Jesse and Hanzo .

“Sweetheart?”

And there was Jesse.

He was leaning over you, lit up by the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Bracing yourself, you looked into his eyes, surprised to find concern instead of the amusement you expected.

“Are you alright, darlin’? It looked like you were having a pretty intense nightmare, there.”

Wait- nightmare?

“You nearly pushed me off of the bed,” interjected Hanzo from behind you, voice betraying his worry. It was only then that you noticed the rumpled blankets, piled up where you had tried to kick them off. Shit.

In response, you simply rolled over and tucked your flaming face into Jesse’s chest, unwilling to correct their conclusion. Jesse allowed this for a moment, but soon took your chin in hand, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, now, you don’t have to hide from me–from us. There’s no shame in bein’ a little shook up by a bad dream, sweetheart. Hell, even I get scared by what my brain decides to cook up sometimes,” the man said, sealing his words with a kiss to your forehead. You felt a tiny bit of guilt gnaw at you as he settled back down onto his side, bleary eyes watching yours for any sign of distress. But it wasn’t really lying, right? How would they ever even find out?

“Come here,” said Hanzo, snaking his arm around your waist. You went freely, fighting a shiver as you felt his familiar body conform to yours. “You are safe, my love,” he whispered, “in this bed, you are safe.” With that, your boyfriend pressed his lips to your neck, ghosting over it as he had in your fantasy. Your body reacted accordingly, hips rolling forward and a gasp hitching in your chest. You slapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late; the room was fraught with tension, none of you daring to even breathe. Well, fuck.

“Sweetheart-”

“I-”

Silence once again.

“Do you need us to sleep somewhere else, darlin’? It’s alright if-”

“No!” you exclaimed, eyes wide. Jesse searched your face for the truth, scrutinizing your awkward expression. You avoided meeting his eyes, shifting under the weight of Hanzo’s arm. Slowly, the cowboy seemed to put two and two together, lips pulling together into a dimpled smirk.

“Hanzo, I don’t think our baby girl had a nightmare."

Kill me, kill me, kill me, you chanted inside of your head, feeling Hanzo’s grip tighten as he caught up to the idea. For a split second, you considered actually lying, dismissing it just as quickly when you saw Jesse's smirk turn devilish.

"Is that true, beloved?” Hanzo asked, breath warm on your ear, “Are you trying to hide something from us?”

This time, you couldn’t suppress your shiver. Damn, Hanzo and Jesse knew just how to play you.

“You naughty little slut,” admonished Jesse, “Let’s see how wet you are under those panties of yours.” Lightning-quick, the man reached under the covers, hooking his fingers into the offending piece of fabric. Viciously, he tore them down, yanking your knees forward in order to get them all the way off. Your breath caught in your throat as he brought your panties into the hazy light of the bedroom, showing off the soaked inner lining.

“Well, would ya look at that? Our baby girl made a mess of herself, Hanzo. What should we do about this?”

Holy shit, you were going to die, right here in this bed.

“I think,” spoke Hanzo, voice gravelly, “that we should make her clean it up.”

And fuck, if that didn’t make you even wetter. Jesse considered you for a moment, eyes gaining a ferocious gleam as he noticed your quickly-growing arousal. Without preamble, he pushed your underwear into your mouth, wrapping them around two of his thick fingers. Instantly, you began to suck, tongue working around the cloth. Jesse pushed deeper and deeper in response, nearly activating your gag reflex. As it was, your eyes swam with tears, barely able to make out your boyfriend’s face turning deathly serious as he concentrated on you. Hanzo, unwilling to be left out, began to knead his hands into your flesh, pulling your sleep shirt up in order to play with your quickly hardening nipples. His scorching-hot mouth then sank onto your skin once more, lavishing your neck with kisses. You could hardly think, hardly breathe. Desperate sounds came from deep in your chest, muffled by Jesse’s unrelenting fingers.

Minutes, or maybe hours, flew by before your panties were taken from your mouth. You drew in a greedy breath, panting from sheer desire. God, how much more could you take? You were positively soaked at this point, aching with a need for friction. You knew better than to try and seek your own release, yet you still gasped when Hanzo snatched your hands away from your throbbing clit, reprimanding you with a harsh bite to the shoulder. A hoarse cry tore from your throat, reverberating loudly in the dark bedroom.

“You,” drawled Jesse, “have been a bad, bad girl, princess. First, you made a fucking mess of your panties, which you tried to hide from us. Then, you went and played with your tight little pussy even when you know you’re not allowed to. I think you’ve earned yourself a punishment, slut.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck , that could mean anything. Punishments from Hanzo and Jesse were rare, but you knew you were in deep, deep shit regardless. And if his predatory grin was any indication, Jesse knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Hanzo, put her on her back. I want her begging by the time I’ve finished tying her up.”

With that, your world was disoriented, your view changing to that of Hanzo’s face right above yours. You felt more than saw Jesse getting off of the bed, quickly distracted by your other lover smothering you with a savage kiss. You did your best to reciprocate, but you were no match for Hanzo’s overwhelming influence. You could feel his hard cock pressing into your thigh where he straddled you, covered only by his cotton briefs. Before you could even think about moving your hands towards it, though, they were captured once more and pressed up above your head; holy shit, Hanzo moved fast.

“What a little whore,” Hanzo spoke, finally allowing you to draw in a breath, “So desperate for cock, you poor thing. How did you ever survive before we came along?”

Jesus Christ.

Hanzo, satisfied by your stunned silence, turned back to the task at hand, finally tearing off your shirt and sucking hickeys onto your bare chest. His goatee was coarse against your feverish skin as you rose up to meet him, writhing beneath his iron grip. You threw your head back, only opening your eyes when you felt Jesse grabbing your now-unoccupied wrist. In his other hand you saw a length of red rope, a frequent addition to your bedroom activities.

“Color?” Jessie asked, momentarily abandoning his dominating façade. Hanzo paused as well, considering you like he might consider his bow; serious and straightforward. You sucked in a deep breath, stomach swooping in anticipation when you croaked out a confident “green”.

With that, you were pulled back into Hanzo’s blazing inferno, hands and teeth and tongue setting your skin aflame. As Jesse maneuvered your wrist into a complicated cuff pattern, Hanzo took hold of your nipples once more, rolling one between his fingers as the other was caught between his teeth. Christ above, it was like someone had injected fire straight into your veins.

“You likin’ that, baby girl?” Came Jesse’s voice, off to the other side now and distinctly smug. You sent him a glare, tempered by the heady sensation of satiny rope being pulled against your sensitive skin. Jesse merely winked back, his roguish attitude written all over his relaxed-yet-confident posture. With one final flourish of the cowboy’s fingers, your hands were firmly tied to the headboard, spreading out to either side of you in a comfortable stretch of your shoulders. Before you could get too settled, however, Hanzo was moving his rough, calloused hands towards your hips–with a jerk, you were pulled flush against him, his erection just barely grazing your sex. Two forearms planted themselves next to your head, decisively caging you in.

“Jesse, tie her up like this. I want to make sure we have plenty of room to fuck her without restraint.”

God. You couldn’t believe Hanzo’s mouth.

“You got it, boss,” Jesse replied easily, taking your ankle in his hand. Heat curled low in your gut as your legs were spread wide by the cowboy’s unyielding grip, exposing you to Hanzo’s hungry gaze. The heat multiplied as Hanzo adjusted his hips, your own twitching up to meet him halfway. Yes, yes, yes, you thought, nearly salivating in anticipation. Slowly, ever so slowly, the archer began to roll his pelvis against yours, finally giving you the friction you had been craving. It was heaven; it was perfect. Hanzo steadily began to increase his rhythm, grunts of pleasure growing louder and louder along with your punched-out gasps. The man loved to do this with you, spending hours grinding on you as you cuddled to watch a movie or even as you were falling asleep in his arms.

“That’s it, beloved. Can you feel my cock? Do you want it?” Frantically, you nodded, head swimming in a slurry of arousal and desperation. “Then beg for it, you whore.”

Fuck. You could barely think a coherent word, much less say them–but you tried anyway, panting a quiet oh and yes and please as sweetly as you could. The archer only gave a noncommittal sigh in response, clearly unimpressed by your performance.

“How disappointing, Jesse; it sounds as though our little whore doesn’t want to be fucked after all,” came Hanzo's patronizing voice, sinking low in your stomach–the man never made empty threats, especially in the bedroom. A teasing slip of Jesse’s hand set you to begging, words tumbling past your lips before you could even process them. “God, please, please, Hanzo, fuck, Jesse, please, fuck me!” you cried, pleading your case in a way that could make a porn star blush. After a moment of stunned silence, all three of you came back to your senses.

“Fuck,” Jesse snarled, chest heaving. “Fuck.”

In a flurry of motion, he was tying you off, finishing the cuff on your other ankle; then he was diving towards you, capturing your mouth with his in an animalistic mix of lips and teeth. Small, possessive noises issued from the cowboy’s throat, buzzing on your tongue like the bubbles of a sweet champagne. A scorching hand burned down the lines of your body, setting your newly-formed bruises alight with sensation. You shivered in anticipation–you wanted, needed Jesse and Hanzo inside of you now.

All thinking stopped, however, when deft fingers finally reached your oversensitive clit; you jackknifed upwards, breaking your kiss with Jesse. Your hips bucked under Hanzo’s weight as you gulped in air, starving for oxygen and touch in equal measure.

“That’s it, slut,” Jesse said, voice rigid. His eyes were positively wild, stormy with need from where he was hovering over you. A glance at Hanzo’s face revealed much of the same. You imagined that this is what it must feel like to be a ship in a storm, to be something so small in comparison to nature’s unparalleled power. You opened your mouth in silent prayer as Jesse’s fingers laved over your sopping cunt, dragging them over your lips like the pages of a book. Without warning, he slipped two thick fingers inside of you, stretching you open while working his thumb in small circles over your clit. Oh, God. Your dream couldn’t even begin to compare to the actual feeling of Jesse’s hand, moving in and out with enough force to rock your whole body. Lewd noises filled your ears, setting off yet another round of sparks fizzling through you. A familiar surge of pleasure began to crescendo in the pit of your stomach, drawing out more breathless whimpers from somewhere high in your throat. However, just before you could reach your orgasm, Jesse’s thumb slipped from your throbbing clit, leaving you to clench around his fingers to no avail. Fuck, fuck, no! Just a little more...

Your eyes opened to meet Jesse’s face, finding that his impish smirk had slipped back on.

“Awww, darlin’, ya look so sad,” the man teased, crooking his fingers just to make you whine. “Don’t worry though, we’re just getting started…”

Equal measures of excitement and dread shot through you at his words. Hanzo and Jesse, while loving boyfriends, knew exactly how to push every single one of your buttons; in short, they could be assholes. Beautiful, sexy, lovable assholes. Paying your trepidation no heed, Jesse withdrew his hand from your hole, leaving you empty and shivering. Jesus, you were a mess.

“Wanna taste?” Jesse asked–but he wasn’t talking to you. No, he was offering his hand to Hanzo, who regarded the cowboy with relentless heat in his gaze. A silent something passed between them, before Hanzo was leaning in and taking the slick digits in his mouth, staring into Jesse’s eyes the entire time.

“Good, right?” Jesse said, voice gravelly once more. Hanzo simply hummed in response, before withdrawing once again. Another tense moment slipped by, in which it got harder and harder to remember how to breathe. Jesse’s eyes flicked downwards, then back up to Hanzo, seeming to ask a question; nearly imperceptibly, the archer nodded, drawing in a short breath when Jesse’s hand moved down to grasp the hem of his underwear. You bit your lip as Hanzo’s cock was revealed, red and leaking at the tip. With just a touch of Jesse’s fingers, precum was dripping onto your stomach, increasing your own arousal tenfold. Leisurely, the cowboy began to jerk Hanzo off, grip loose and taunting.

“Look at our girl, Hanzo,” Jesse commanded, swiping his thumb over the other man’s cockhead. “Look at how fuckin’ desperate she is for you”.

Hanzo’s eyes snapped to yours, and you felt the full weight of his attention crash down on you– fuck, he looked feral, lips pressed in a snarl and dark hair falling just past his chin. You couldn’t help but look away, feeling suffocated by Hanzo’s gaze; however, a metallic hand grasped your cheeks, wrenching your head back to look at your powerful lovers above you.

“Eyes up here, slut,” Jesse reprimanded, “I want you to watch him as he ruins that pussy of yours, understood?” You nodded. “Good. And don’t you fuckin’ dare cum before I tell you to, or else I’ll edge you for a week straight, got it?” Another nod, and he finally relinquished his hold on you, leaving a dull pain that you hoped would flower into bruises.

As you were told, you kept your eyes trained on Hanzo’s face, watching his eyes flutter as his cock was guided to your entrance. Once, twice, he slipped out, before he was slowly pushing in, inch by inch. God, he filled you perfectly. Finally, as Hanzo sank completely into you, Jesse relinquished his hold, stepping away to admire how the archer curved around you like a great beast getting ready to devour a meal. Arms shaking, Hanzo fell onto his elbows for support, hot breath sweeping over your face. He was close enough now that you could see beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow. You were the only one who got to see Hanzo like this, aside from Jesse–it was a fact that never seemed to get old, no matter how many times you had joined him in bed. Equally as tantalizing was the slide of his cock inside of you, beginning to move in short, calculated thrusts. Instinctively, you clenched down, earning a warning glare from Hanzo–but you were already in trouble, weren’t you? What would be the harm in doing a little teasing of your own?

Staring Hanzo in the eye, you purposely flexed your muscles once more, feeling a hot rush of slick slowly drip out of you. In a momentary lapse of control, Hanzo buried his head into your shoulder, letting out a strangled moan. You couldn’t keep from responding with a shit-eating grin, putting Jesse’s own signature smirk to shame. However, your expression dropped as you caught Hanzo’s thunderous face, towering over you as he rose back onto his hands and knees.

Oh, shit.

“You. Worthless. Whore. ” the man hissed, jaw clenched, “It seems as though you need to be reminded of your place.”

With surgical precision, Hanzo bottomed out inside of you, pausing for just a moment before retreating once again. Another thrust, and it was clear that your self-control would be pushed to the limit; already, you were falling apart, legs shaking from the sheer effort it took to hold back your orgasm. But Hanzo took no mercy on you, setting a steady rhythm that had you moaning helplessly. Fuck, this was getting difficult-

“Jesse, bring me the vibrator.”

God fucking dammit, you thought, your stomach dropping. Without so much as a stutter in his hips, Hanzo took the wand from Jesse’s outstretched hand, watching you intently as he nestled it right next to your clitoris. Your eyes flickered between the two sights, drinking in the sheer power your lover held over you. Then, with a click of a button, you were straining upwards, feeling as though you were being wrenched straight out of your body. Another click, and the vibrations grew even more intense; you longed to bury your hand in Hanzo’s hair, to scratch your nails across his muscled back, to do anything but sit there and take it. Each breath you drew in was cut off by the next, a staccato beat matching the rhythm of your racing pulse. You were close, so close that you could taste it on your tongue– shit!

“Did you really think I would let you cum, slut?” Hanzo asked, still thrusting in and out of your hole without care. Your whole body shuddered helplessly, hypersensitive after being denied once again. As you attempted to catch your breath, Hanzo reached down and twisted your swollen nipple, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

“I asked you a question, whore; answer me,” the archer commanded, practically growling, “Do you think you deserve to cum on my cock?” As if to punctuate his question, Hanzo slammed his hips forward, fucking you hard enough to pull against the ties at your ankles.

“Fuck! No!” you screamed, on the verge of tears. Your voice was wrecked with desperation, hoping beyond hope that the teasing would be over soon. However, you were soon at the mercy of the vibrator once again, letting out a whine at the feeling of it on your tortured clit. Hanzo sped up his pace, sitting up on his knees to watch every inch of your thoroughly marked body writhe underneath him. “That is right, you cumwhore. You do not deserve the honor of an orgasm at my hand. You are lucky that I am willing to fuck you in the first place.”

The vibrator was shut off once more, and you humped against it frantically, reserve long abandoned. “Go ahead, you stupid whore,” Hanzo encouraged, “Humiliate yourself. I want to see how pathetic you look when you cry.” A sob flew from your lips as the toy buzzed to life, only to be shut off seconds later, then turned on again, a sadistic pattern that made your hips jump and stutter on Hanzo’s cock. You could feel the archer’s perfect rhythm begin to falter, signaling his quickly-approaching climax; his moans burned hot on your skin, sending wave after wave of throbbing pleasure through your trembling body. Finally, you felt Hanzo seize up, almost uncannily still in the wake of his orgasm. Scorching cum flooded your hole, arousing enough to make your battered walls flutter with desire. A few heartbeats later, and Hanzo was crashing back down over you, gulping in air like a dying man. Tenderly, he pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, love and awe written in his furrowed brows and slackened mouth. As he breathed against you, you could feel your own hitching breaths slow, agonising desire fading just slightly into a dull roar.

Two pairs of hands whispered over your body, freeing your limbs from their confines, massaging the marks imprinted upon you by the ropes. You felt yourself float away just a little, untethered by chaste kisses pressed to your cheeks and soft hands stroking your thighs. Hanzo’s shifting body weight brought you back to the present, where Jesse was taking his place between your legs; Hanzo unceremoniously flopped to the side, grace all but forgotten in his post-orgasm haze. Your eyes opened slowly to see Jesse looking down at you, positively fit to burst with quiet affection. You smiled back, tensed and eager all the same.

"Ya did so good, darlin'," Jesse said, tone far softer now, "So good for us. Are ya ready for your reward?"

The praise melted into your skin, smoothing the raw edges that had been so expertly laid bare by Hanzo. With a simple nod, Jesse leaned in to kiss you once more, as slow and saccharine as honey. You embraced him in return, palms gliding over the coarse and ruddy plains of his cheeks; you felt like you were glowing from the inside out. Like a wave drawing across the sand, Jesse retreated, hands whispering down to your thighs. The rest of his body followed close behind, settling down between your legs with practiced ease.

"So beautiful, sweetheart," Jesse praised, "I can't wait to make you cum."

And there it was again, the knife's edge of hot desire. Almost subconsciously, you weaved your hands through Jesse's locks, giving them a tug. Jesse groaned deep in his chest, rekindling the flames in your gut. Your cowboy was so responsive. You pulled his hair again, set alight as Jesse muffled his moans into your sweat-soaked thigh.

“You’re gonna kill me, darlin’,” Jesse threatened, kissing his way towards your drenched pussy. A witty retort died in your throat as his tongue flattened against your swollen lips, lapping at the obscene mixture of cum and slick slowly dripping out of you. “Fuck,” you breathed, struck senseless by the hot-wet pleasure of Jesse’s plush mouth. An answering groan rang in your ears as the cowboy finally dipped his writhing tongue into your hole, drinking in the lewd slurry with feverish dedication. Your hands tightened into fists, pulling Jesse further and further in until his nose was pressed flat against your pussy. You whined; a sharpness ran through you along with pleasure, heightening each in a whirlwind of sensation.

Breathless, Jesse pulled back for a moment, sucking in air like a drowning man. In the low light, you could just make out the shine of your slick soaking the cowboy’s goatee–holy shit, that’s hot. Then, with fervor, Jesse was back to it, making you yelp as he latched onto your clit. You ground against him, his tongue sending shockwaves up and down your body; you were shaking with the oh-god-too-much of it all. Every inhale was a battle. Every movement made you see stars. Then, finally, finally, Jesse tore himself from your body, looking you in the eye as he said, “Cum for me, sweetheart."

You felt the command flow through you, breaking down walls and crashing into your nervous system. Jesse bent his head and sucked your clit hard, bringing you to the very edge once again. Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm, he encouraged you, nearly whimpering; he was bucking his hips, and fuck, fuck, fuck, shit! You were cumming into Jesse’s mouth, vision whited out by a dazzling starburst. Your legs crashed into the cowboy’s face, pinning him to your gushing pussy as you rode out your orgasm; your whole body was spasming, uncontrollable with pleasure. Then, like a puppet cut loose, you were limp, releasing Jesse from your death grip.

The cowboy shot to his knees, ripping his boxers off as fast as possible; his flushed cock was bared, aching and practically dripping precum. "Fuck, babygirl," he moaned, hand flying, "I'm gonna-fuck, I'm gonna cum!" A final groan, and Jesse was falling off the edge with you, release streaking against your rolling abdomen--followed quickly by Jesse actually falling on top of you.

"Holy shit," you laughed, "Get the hell off of me, you jerk!" A gargled mess that might have been a "no" was your only response for a moment, before the pile of sweat and various sexual fluids that was your boyfriend rolled off of you. You couldn't help but giggle at his dramatics--god, you loved your idiots. A moment of silence permeated the room, until you yawned; oh yeah, it's like three A.M...

"If you two are done, I believe it is time for some aftercare," said Hanzo, sounding equally as tired. With his help, you got up, only to fold in half from the sore feeling radiating through your pelvis--fucking fuck, you forgot how much of a bitch this could be. Seeing your discomfort, Hanzo scooped you up, carrying you to the en-suite bathroom. You heard Jesse follow you in, fetching a second set of sheets from the linens cabinet. Carefully, you were set by the toilet, Hanzo turning to allow you some privacy. After finishing your business, you were escorted to the shower, where the archer tenderly cleaned you off. From there, things got blurry--you vaguely remembered the smell of arnica cream, the feeling of a soothing wipe on your swollen lips, strong arms carrying you to bed, and a tender kiss placed on your forehead. Then, you were off to sleep, dreamless and peaceful.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Likes are appreciated, reblogs/comments keep me writing! Let me know what you thought, your favorite passage, or even what time you're reading this at (bonus points if it's 1 A.M. or later). Toodles! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

[veritable-trash]

Just you

Pairing: Will Miller x F!Reader

Words: 1.5K

Warning: None, just emotions

A/N: hi so uhm this is the first thing I have ever posted. Actually the first fanfic type thing I've ever written. I've been a reader for a really long time and recently getting into writing again and then I binge read all of @charnelhouse WYS and fell so in love with her Will Miller I almost passed away. Firstly hi Charnel if you are reading this you're a badass and I'm obsessed with your writing. ANYWAYS, I read her post about the WYS boys being sick and Will Miller saying he needs me???? Ya I'm melting. So that thought has been rattling around my brain for like 12 hours and then I drank some wine and now we're here. Honestly this Will feels like Charnel's Will to me so I hope no offense is taken by me just writing him with that sorta lense. Ok I'm gonna shut up now and do the damn thing. Holy shit ok enjoy please 😵‍💫Also why am I writing this like someone's gonna read it jesus christ. for posterity huzah!

part 2 say what!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

They had been spinning around each other for years it seems. Constantly ebbing and flowing, in and out of each others orbits like lost comets somewhere deep in space. Timing wasn’t exactly their strong suit, and neither was actually talking. But somehow the comets always came back around. English together in 8th grade. Algebra freshman year. History senior year. She had befriended Benny somehow, and even with her being around him more, it seemed like their paths couldn’t cross. Always right there, but not quite. He always had eyes for her, and she always had eyes for him. But he was stoic. Had been the protector, the silent overseer since he could walk. And she was flighty. Shaky hands, nervous rambles. Will knew her, saw her, wanted to know more about her, but even high school Will was thinking about his future. Thinking about how to protect Ben. Thinking about what the next move was. And he knew she could make him stay. Could jiggle the mold he had been settling into his whole life. And she, well she craved the stability. She just knew in the back of her mind that if he took her hand, just once, her brain could find peace. Her knees might stop knocking against her desk. Just for a minute.

Then high school ended. Will went off to the war. Threw himself into the structure of it all. The defined leadership. The rules and rituals. The consistency he craved and never got. And he was good at it. Found his stride, found his pack, found some peace. But peace came with a price he couldn’t have planned for. He saw too much, knew too much. Dragged his baby brother in with him too. Though Benny would argue that point till they were both black and blue. Will came back different, jilted. A little colder around the edges. A little harder to crack. It seemed the mold was starting to harden.

She left high school and tried to escape. Those anxious knees lead to running feet, but they could never get her far. She seemed to always settle back here. A couple months in New York. Down in Texas. Maybe even California when she really wanted to feel free. But something about this sad little place she called home had a pull that she couldn’t snap. She didn’t think, didn’t want to admit, that maybe she was waiting for someone else to orbit back to that spot. Come back to 8th grade english, freshman algebra, history. That would be crazy. Who waits around for someone you spoke to only a handful of times in school? Not her that’s for sure.

But here she was. Walking through their historic little down town early on a Saturday in June. The temperature wasn’t unbearable yet, summer had just started to really arrive. But she smelt it in the air. The shifting heat coming to suffocate them all. At least that’s how she envisioned it in her head. She had been back for a couple months, finally deciding maybe it was time to settle, take a break from running. Though her hands still shook, she’d gotten the knees to stop bouncing. Maybe she was finally getting older. Who knows.

Even as she walked her mind was whirring, churning, moving. And then all of sudden it blanked out. Her mind now full of gold and blue. It was all consuming, that the mind that never stopped hit pause. Her steps faltered as blue eyes settled on her. Holy fuck. He was back.

There she was. He’d almost forgotten what her eyes looked like. Almost. Not even the color, but the way her entire mind, brain was on display. And he could see that she was not expecting him. Wide and full of, was that fear? Excitement? He wanted to know so badly. Wanted to walk up to her and tell her he saw her. Saw her all the time.

They got coffee that morning. Finally broke the boundary of only seeing each other when Benny was around. They caught up. Talked for hours about what they’d been doing, where they’d been, if Benny was still as crazy as before. And the whole time all he wanted to do was touch her. Skim his finger tips across her upturned palm. Run his knuckles across her cheekbone. The distance between them just a table, felt like miles. And she itched for his words, itched to crawl under his skin and finally understand this man that pulled her here. The two comets finally getting so close they start burning up.

The morning had shifted to the afternoon that had now shifted to early evening. The sky just starting to darken far away at the edges. Her body was calm. Maybe a tremor here or there. An urge to run even when it all felt so good. But then he’d smile at her, and everything would freeze. He’d chuckle at a stupid joke she cobbled together in her brain and time would turn to molasses as she tried to capture every note. She couldn’t believe she was making Will Miller laugh. But then, god then there were those dimpled smiles. When he’d compliment her randomly and she would flush, get flustered. And he’d try to hide how much he loved that he made her nervous but he couldn’t hide that dimple. Not from her.

And then all of a sudden they were at her car. The sky inky blue, a single star sparking high up above. And with her back leaned against the car door, the street lamps casting her in all sorts of shadows, he couldn’t leave. Couldn’t leave her. He was cracking and it was all her fault.

He looked beautiful. Golden hair, ocean eyes, heat damp skin, the god damn dimple. She was swooning and she almost didn’t care who might see. Well, maybe cared a little. He wouldn’t stop looking at her. Her eyes would drift, to the lamp, her hands, his feet, and finally back to his eyes and they were still right there. Looking right at her like he couldn’t capture enough moments of her.

“What are you looking at?”

“You.”

The dimple was back. Her knees wobbled a bit. He stepped closer, and now she couldn’t breath.

“I like your dimple.”

“What?”

“I like your dimple. It makes your face more real.”

He couldn’t handle her. Could barely get a hold of how she made him feel. Wanted to make her giggle so he could giggle with her. Wanted to run to California like he’d heard she’d done before.

“How long are you staying?” she whispered, nervous to make it seem like she needed him to stay.

“I ain’t planning on leaving anytime soon.” Her chest released a sigh, he was hoping of relief.

“Good. You’ve been missed around these parts.” His eyes dropped then. Almost bashful like he didn’t want to assume she had been missing him but hoping to every god that she had.

He took another step and now there was barely half a foot between them. He towered over her, blotted out the sky, but who needed the sky when he looked at her like she was the sun. Their breaths coming a bit faster, the night no longer getting cooler but seeming to heat up even with the sun below the horizon.

“Did I ever tell you in high school how pretty you are?”

“No, not that I remember. And I think I would’ve remembered”

“Well I'm saying it now. You look so pretty tonight.”

Hearts slammed against ribcages, their bodies, minds spinning a collision course. And then he took her hand. Wrapped his fingers around her palm and the world stopped hurtling through space. She squeezed his hand instinctively, another little tremor, and he squeezed back and it was like their feet sunk into the ground. Like no force of nature could move them from this blink of a moment. His eyes traced hers back and forth. Left eye, right eye, left eye, right eye. Her mind was trying to memorize every detail of how his hand felt on hers. They were so caught up in each other, in this grounding feeling. Like two magnets finally clicking together.

“I think I need you.” He murmured.

“What?”

“I think I’ve always needed you.”

She didn’t need to ask for more clarification that time. Because she knew. Knew exactly what he meant. Because she had always needed him too.

HAHAHAHA ok cool so that all happened

[ptergwen]

I think your requests are open (I didn’t see anything that said otherwise but I suck at this app lol) but I was wondering if you could write a peter x reader (likely college-age) where they have an academic rivalry and just tease each other a lot and lots of fluff and shit? It can be an established relationship or like a friends/rivals to lovers or really whatever you want. Sorry if this is super specific! Anyways, I love your writing, it always cheers me up :)

friends close, enemies closer

ik this is cherry BUT i had to

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and hints of suggestiveness

a/n: thank you my love ! i’m actually obsessed with this concept so i’m super super happy with how it came out n i hope you are too :,)

-

you wipe sweat from your upper lip, peeking at peter’s laptop screen. he’s more than halfway through the paper your english professor tasked your class to write. he looks to have not a worry in the world as he continues to type away. growling at this, you dive right back into work.

you’ve been at each other’s throats since the beginning of classes when you both wanted the same spot. first row, middle seat. peter had officially claimed it in the end. you’d flopped down next to him and his irritating smirk.

the dude is smart, you’ll give him that. his knowledge of literature is almost as impressive as yours. almost. he raises his hand any chance he gets, effectively stealing your thunder if you dare to participate.

peter is also a bit of a people pleaser. he’ll chat up your professor at office hours, fascinate her with his hot takes on things or stupid anecdotes. you often get so annoyed that you bail before you even attempt to woo her yourself. the sight of you storming off is something peter thoroughly enjoys.

bottom line is, golden boy peter parker never loses. underneath the sweet, innocent persona he hides behind is a ruthless fighter. you’re determined to end his winning streak, thus sparking your ongoing competition to be better than the other in every way possible.

this time, your goal is to meet your ten page paper requirements the fastest. they aren’t due for weeks, but you and peter are banging them out in one sitting.

you’re hauled up in the campus library, sat side by side despite your wishes for peter to get his own table. he’d insisted on sharing with you. why, you haven’t a clue. you can’t stand him, and he isn’t the fondest of you either.

that’s what you tell yourselves, at least.

“progress report?” peter requests from you. “page three. you?” you grunt back. he props his feet up on the table, arms flexed behind his head. “finishing up page seven. you already knew that, though... creeper.”

god, you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

you glance over at peter, doing your best to ignore how his biceps bulge under his hoodie. nerdy little parker is ripped.

“worry about yours, i’ll worry about mine. thanks.” you reread the sentence you wrote prior to peter’s chiseled body distracting you. “oh, the irony,” he sighs and nudges the edge of your laptop with his sneaker. scowling, you shift the screen away from him.

about a minute of silence goes by until it’s unfortunately filled by peter. he stretches his arms out, finally removing his dirty shoes from the table.

“i’m gonna take five. maybe, you could use it as an opportunity to catch up to me,” peter cockily suggests. “spare me your charity, peter. i’m doing just fine without it,” you retort, letting out a scoff. peter raises his hands in defense. “if you say so, princess.”

here you were, naively thinking peter couldn’t become any more insufferable than he already is.

you slam your laptop shut and jab a finger at his chest. “jesus christ, how many times do i have to ask you not to call me that?” a patronizing pout adorns peter’s lips. “aw, i love it when you get all bossy on me. so cute.”

he grabs your hand still on his chest, pressing a light kiss to the back of it. you’re quick to wipe it off on his hoodie. nevertheless, there’s an undeniable heat rushing to your cheeks.

“well, i hate it when you call me princess,” you deadpan. peter tilts his head to the side. “do you?”

of course not. deep down, you live for the fuzzy feeling you get whenever the nickname slips from his tongue. oh, his tongue and the things it can do. poking out as he focuses hard on a question, running across his pink lips…

you have to reel it in. this is peter parker you’re fantasizing about, your mortal enemy.

“yes. i hate it, and i hate you,” you unsuccessfully convince the both of you. “no, you don’t,” peter rasps, darkened eyes scanning over your features. his stare is intense and intimidating. he grasps your chin between his thumb and index finger, slowly leaning in closer.

he’s not going to stop until you make him. you don’t want to, but you will.

you shove his shoulder, dragging your laptop towards you again. “on second thought, i could use that catch up. you’re not gonna throw me off my game, parker.”

your rejection seems to disappoint peter. his expression matches that of a kicked puppy, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“we’ll see,” he murmurs and swings a leg over his chair. “alright, i’m gonna run to the caf. you want anything?”

he’s offering to buy you food now? what’s his angle here?

“i’d say yes, but i’m afraid you’ll poison it somehow,” you half joke. peter hops to his feet. “don’t give me any ideas,” he warns, snatching his backpack off the floor. “i’ll just surprise you.”

although you’re curious what his mystery snack choice for you would be, you can’t accept. you’d be going against your entire dynamic.

would that be so terrible?

absolutely.

you wave him off towards the double doors. “i’m good, peter. really. i’m not that hungry, anyway.” shaking his head, peter throws a backpack strap onto one shoulder. “y/n, your stomach’s been grumbling for the last hour. you gotta eat.”

he’s not wrong. you’re starving, but you’ve been too preoccupied by your essay to break for dinner.

“fine, surprise me,” you concede. peter flashes you a smile, this one void of its usual condescendence. “i’ll be back. try not to miss me too much,” he calls as he walks backwards to the library doors. “i won’t. shoo already,” you dismiss him, a laugh falling from your lips.

peter winks at you, then disappears into the night. you’re left with a serious case of butterflies and a certain freckle faced know-it-all on your mind.

that’s a problem.

you’ve managed to get another page done when peter reappears. he sits back down and slides a bag across the table, you closing your laptop. you dig into it to figure out what he picked for you. you’re not too pleased with his selection, however.

“oh, yummy. vomit in a cup,” you announce as you hold a green smoothie in your hand. peter reaches over and pats your thigh. “it’s good for you. drink up, princess.” you slap him away. “hard pass. i’d rather you have gotten me nothing.”

narrowing his eyes, peter pulls two cookies wrapped in a napkin from his pocket. “i’m guessing you don’t want these either? more for me, then.”

they’re chocolate chip and m&m, your favorite in the cafeteria. they just came out of the oven, so they’re still warm.

“how… how did you know i…” you trail off, peter setting the cookies in front of you. he offers you a lopsided grin. “i know a lot about you, believe it or not. i pay attention.” you surprise yourself by returning his smile. “thank you, peter. how much do i owe you?”

“nah, it’s on me,” peter assures you. “enjoy.” pushing aside your unappealing drink, you seize the cookies instead. “you have to eat, too. let me at least split these with you.” there’s a beat before peter nods. “fair enough.”

that results in you two munching on your cookies while pretending to write your papers. you’re sneaking glances at each other whenever the other isn’t looking, in reality.

once it’s about time for the library to close, you’re on the verge of passing out. peter is concluding his essay until he hears a thump from your side of the table.

he finds you with your cheek smushed against your keyboard and hitting random letters, snores escaping you.

chuckling to himself, peter places a hand on your shoulder. “hey, y/n?” he speaks in a hushed tone. you awake with a gasp, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. “easy there, princess. it’s only me.” he rubs circles on your back, and it’s oddly comforting.

“keep doing that,” you purr, momentarily forgetting how much you’re supposed to despise peter. he lets his fingers dance across the exposed skin of your lower back. “we should probably head out. it’s kinda late,” peter decides.

you sit up, bones aching and eyes forced open. “not yet. have to beat you first.” you start to delete the gibberish you accidentally typed. peter cups your cheek to turn your head towards him, your movements halting. “this one’s a tie. you did good, y/n/n,” he coos. “finish the rest another day.”

“why’re you being so nice to me?” you nearly whisper. peter uses his thumb to swipe the drool from your lips. “‘cuz i care about you. i might not show it, but i do,” he admits with the hint of a smile. “besides, i need you… for the, uh, the healthy competition.”

laughing softly, you twist his hoodie strings around your fingers and tug. “your intentions are pure as always. sure that’s all you need me for?” peter’s gaze darts to your lips, then your eyes. “we’ll see,” he repeats.

rivalry be damned.

“mm. i care about you too, parker. thanks again for tonight,” you hum. a blush coats peter’s cheeks, even in the dim library lighting. his sweet and innocent side might truly exist. “no problem.” peter links your pinkie with his, the gesture giving you that fuzzy feeling. “i’ll walk you back to your dorm?”

you lean over and kiss his pinkie intertwined in yours.

“lead the way.”

[shootybangbang]

Can i request an Arthur/sadistic female reader please？i really want to see him all messed up because of...you know🥺

(btw, pls check out the requester's art. her arthur content is 😩👌)

[Oneshot]: In which you still don't know how to tie an overhand knot

[Rating]: Explicit

[Note]: this is so fucking horny that i feel i have to apologize in advance. unedited and a little rough around the edges, feel free to point out errors or give criticism

———

“Huh,” you muse aloud. “Looks like the gallery’s putting up a new exhibition this weekend.”

With one hand, you spread the newspaper across the bed and skip to page three. With the other, you continue to stroke Arthur’s cock, twisting your wrist a little to smooth your palm against its dripping tip. The man himself groans as you touch him, and the frame of his body trembles beneath where you’ve straddled yourself over his thighs.

His breaths are quickening again. “Please,” Arthur rasps, his voice hoarse with exertion and desperation alike. You indulge him with another slow, teasing pump of your fist as you continue to pick through the St Denis Tribune, humming thoughtfully as you peruse the newspaper’s Arts and Entertainment section.

“I’m beggin’ you, girl.” He sounds as though he’s teetering on the very edge of agony and ecstasy, and venturing perilously close to the latter. “C’mon. Please.”

“Looks like it’s mostly Impressionists this time. Let’s see here… a selection of Seurats and Monets… a couple Renoirs… oh, some Degas too?” With a mild expression that belies the depth of torture you’ve been putting him through, you slow your hand to a stop. He makes a choked, unhappy noise in the back of his throat that you heartily ignore. “That’s pretty bold of them, considering the reception they gave that Chatenay fellow you told me about.”

Growling, Arthur starts fumbling with the (admittedly badly tied) restraints securing his arms behind his back, twisting his wrists in an attempt to find a loose end.

“Easy there.” You run the pad of your thumb along the ridge delineating the head of his cock, slicking against the precum beaded at its tip. “I’ll give you what you want soon enough.”

“Been hearin’ you say that for almost half an hour now,” he replies, glaring. “You enjoyin’ yourself?”

“Immensely.”

“Better savor it while you can, because I promise you — I’m gonna remember this the next time I get you beneath me.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? What‘re you gonna do then?”

“Untie me and I’ll show you,” he says.

“No,” you reply with a beatific smile.

He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice to something smooth and dangerous: the sort of tone you’ve known him to use for threats he actually intends to follow through on. “When it’s my turn,” he says. “I ain’t gonna tie you up. Won’t need to. Because with you, all I need is my hands.”

A shiver runs down your spine. The man’s wrists may be bound, but you’re still very much at his mercy. In all actuality, your authority here amounts to only a length of rope and his own good humor.

You let out a soft, involuntary whimper at the very thought of it.

“Gonna pin you down when I fuck you,” he continues. He’s smirking now, clearly enjoying the demonstrable effect his words have on you. “Lay you down on your stomach and keep you under me, where you belong.”

You’re half-tempted to loose the rope and let him do just that. Instead, you grab the hem of your shift with both hands and pull the garment over your head in a single fluid motion. It’s 1899, after all. High time for a woman to take charge of her own pleasure.

The dim glow of the oil lamp bathes your bare skin in a wash of gold and amber as you settle yourself against him, pressing the wet line of your slit along the length of his cock. “Go on,” you tell him. “What else?”

Arthur swallows hard and licks his lips, then draws in a sharp intake of breath as you roll your hips forward — just a brief stir of movement, but more than enough to make him twitch beneath you. “Drive you to the brink the same way you’re doin’ to me now,” he says weakly. “Take my time with you, nice and slow. Make you really beg for it.”

“Mm-hmm.” Another roll of your hips, this time with just enough pressure to grant him a touch of warmth.

Finally, he breaks. And it’s truly a sight to behold: Arthur Morgan, a man who you’d thought would break your spine like a toothpick the first time you’d met, openly begging for the simple privilege of being allowed between your thighs.

“God, please,” he groans. “You can’t do this to me. Can’t let me feel how wet you are and just leave me like this.”

“Of course I can.” You relent. “But I won’t. So be a good boy and stay still for me, alright?”

His cock weighs heavy in your hand as you guide him between your thighs. Arthur lets out a harsh gasp and instinctively thrusts upwards — but you immediately withdraw, and he finds nothing but the cruel emptiness of absence waiting to receive him.

“Thought I told you to stay still,” you repeat sternly.

He nods with the frantic desperation of a badly-trained dog begging for a meal. Hungry and eager, but standing to attention with as much obedience he can muster. Which isn’t much, even on the best of days, but he is trying. And for that, he deserves something in return.

You take him in slowly, both out of principle and necessity. Just a taste of him first, then the gradual descent, a long and drawn out consumption that he has barely the means to endure.

His gaze still hasn’t left you. There is an intensity in it that once might have frightened you, an azure bright as broken glass and twice as sharp. The purity of emotion in them strikes you to the bone, makes your throat tighten and your dominance waver — there is a depth of devotion there that borders on the absolute.

When you move against him, he squeezes his eyes shut against the sheer force of sensation that floods through. Arthur makes a low, pained noise in the back of his throat and confesses, “I ain’t gonna last long.”

You lean forward and kiss him, then start a slow, rocking motion with your hips that spurs him to whimper your name against your lips, a small cry of warning before you feel the first twitches of his cock. Arthur bucks up once, twice, then shudders beneath you as his seed pulses deep, blooms hot and slick inside your core.

“Goddammit,” he hisses. “Didn’t think I’d— ah, fuck…”

You ride on, grinding through the last, weakening throbs of his orgasm and until he lets out a final, heavy sigh. Arthur regards you with loose-limbed exhaustion, lolling his head against your pillows as he flashes you a drained, weary grin. “Alright,” he says. “Untie me and get up here so I can—”

“No need,” you say brightly, then lift your hips in a brief mockery of release before sheathing him again and sending him reeling into oversensitivity.

Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps, wincing. “What’re you—”

“Too much?”

“Didn’t say that,” he says. His jaw is clenched tight and his voice is faint, but the look on his face is one of stubborn determination.

You test him with another slow, sinuous slide of your hips. This time, he meets you with a shallow thrust of his own. He’s breathing hard, each exhale shivery with exertion. “Keep goin’,” he urges. “I can take it.”

The added lubrication of his come eases the friction of him, soothes the inevitable ache of penetration. You settle for an unhurried, leisurely rhythm that allows you to fully appreciate the slickness of each stroke, the accompanying warmth of his seed still spread through your core.

Arthur’s gaze darts downwards to the base of his shaft, where the drip of his come has begun to pool. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just beautiful.”

He snakes his right arm free from his bonds and abruptly flips you onto your back with a well-timed shove.

“What— how did you…?”

“Sweetheart,” Arthur says, his voice warm and affectionately condescending. “You still can’t tie an overhand knot for shit.”

“But I double-checked this time!”

“Not very well, apparently.” He hitches your thighs around his waist and cages you in beneath him, then lowers his mouth to the slope of your neck. A brief, gentle nip — not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to convey his renewed authority. “God, but you’re a greedy little thing, ain’t you?” he growls against your skin. “Just one load of my spend ain’t enough?”

“Thought you’d appreciate the challenge, since you’re always so— oh, shit,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders when he drives himself downwards with a sharp, savage thrust.

“Go on.” Arthur says. He’s panting now, his dark blond hair slicked against his forehead with sweat. “Weren’t you sayin’ somethin’ about me?”

You let out an indecipherable whine that bears only a passing resemblance to human language.

“My poor girl,” he murmurs, low and tender. Arthur cups the side of your face against his palm and traces his thumb over your cheekbone, then presses a chaste kiss to your brow. “Can’t even talk right when I’m fucking her proper.”

He’ll no doubt be insufferably smug about this later, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, distracted as you are by the view of him rutting against you, his shaft still streaked with his previous release. He’s fucking his own come back into me, you think to yourself, and that thought alone blinds out all else and leaves you blank with pleasure.

Arthur takes you hard and fast. Far rougher than his usual handling, which can sometimes be almost excruciatingly cautious. He kisses you clumsily, then lowers his mouth to the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting until the first, faint traces of tomorrow’s bruises begin to darken.

And with this, it’s not long before the first delirious ripples of your own orgasm begin to crest.

Every muscle drawn and tensed, dissolving into an inward ache of arousal that spurs you to grip him tight and whimper, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep his face in view. With a fierce satisfaction, you savor the sudden weakness in his expression when he feels you contract against him, then his harsh groan and the stutter of his hips as he follows, spilling what seed he has left.

Arthur keeps himself hilted until the very last shivers of exhilaration fade, then pulls away with a reluctance usually reserved for long farewells. The overflow of his come is thick and heavy as it drips from between your thighs, and the look on his face as he beholds it is one of tired appreciation.

Then he flops onto his side, totally spent. “You’re a real demon,” he sighs. “You know that?”

“A real demon would go for round three,” you reply faintly, staring dreamy-eyed up at the ceiling.

Arthur groans at the mere suggestion of it. “I think that’d actually kill me.”

When you curl up against him, he automatically throws an arm over your side, the action at this point an instinct secondary only to breathing, and brushes his mouth over the back of your neck.

As you ebb towards sleep, you murmur as an afterthought, “Didn’t you say you were gonna make me beg?”

He lets out a weary chuckle. “Well,” he says, “There’s always tomorrow.”

[paper-n-ashes]

Impatience

Characters: Rick Smolan x Female Reader

Words: 2.6k

Warnings/Tags: Explicit sexual content (18+), a very subby Rick/dominant female dynamic, heavy talk of masturbation (male and female), praise kink (there’s lots of sweet/good boy, don’t say I didn’t warn you), edging?, very minor verbal degradation, masturbation (male), oral sex (male receiving), unprotected P in V, creampie

Author’s Note: This... is not a place I go very often. Which is a shame because I fucking love writing submissive men, I just don’t post a lot of it for various reasons. But, I went a little feral yesterday and this was the result. 

I’m going to throw a dedication to @paterson-blue​, who is the domme queen and inspired a few moments of this little scene. Thank you for being the most amazing soundboard for ideas and screaming about punishing men with me.

~

“Rick?”

This wasn’t exactly how you thought the night would go. You’d risen from your resting position on his lap at the sound of his first muted snore, seeing Rick blissfully unconscious while the movie played out on your TV screen. Your fingers traced at his hairline as he snoozed away, smiling to yourself. Poor, sweet Rick, obviously still jet-lagged from his 14 hour flight the day before.

A part of you didn’t want to wake him, looking so peaceful. However, a stronger, more selfish part had been waiting too long to be satiated. You and Rick had been friends for a long time, lovers on one single occasion just before he left for his most recent expedition. 18 months had been and gone since his last visit to your sector of the world, and you’d waited so patiently.

Now, that patience had run out.

“Hey, wake up sleepy head,” you said softly, a hand now on his shoulder to gently shake him. Rick’s lids fluttered under his glasses, eyebrows creasing as he roused from his slumber. There were a few erratic inhales and exhales as his face turned to you, eyes slowly opening.

“Shit…” he breathed, his expression adorably remorseful. “How long was I out?”

“10 minutes, maybe 15.”

Rick’s face screwed up at the answer, irritated at himself. “I’m sorry. Shit. This jet lag is killing me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you soothed. “The movie wasn’t that interesting.”

“I didn’t care about the movie.” He was suddenly serious, stifling a yawn to look at you with purpose. “I just didn’t want to waste any time with you.”

Oh, you were hoping he would say that.

You shifted closer, leaning in with your noses almost touching. “Then let’s not waste any more.”

Rick couldn’t help but be flustered by your ensuing kiss, recoiling slightly into the sofa as your lips collided, both your palms at his bearded jaw. It took him a few more seconds to fully relax into the sudden passion you were showing him, actually a little disbelieving of your boldness. Although, you’d always been the confident one in this friendship turned more, with you finally making the move to fuck him senseless those many months ago. It made him excited, to think you might be on the precipice of doing the same now.

So, he began to return your heated kiss, hands feeling down your back as your torso’s became flush together. A shiver ran across his skin when your fingers moved to the hair at the nape of his neck, your lips disconnecting to instead be set at his ear.

“Did you think about me when you were away?”

Rick quickly nodded. “A lot.”

“Yeah?” you hummed. “Did you stroke that big cock thinking about me?”

He didn’t have to lie. “All the time. When… Whenever I had time alone.”

“Mmm, good boy.” Rick’s breath hitched as a set of fingers slid down his front, dangerously close to the hardened erection already straining at your term of endearment. You loved feeling him become tense at your movement, continuing to place small kissed at his neck. “I thought about you too, you know. Fucked myself with my fingers, wishing it was you.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Rick blurted, his breaths harsh. A whimper soon followed as your palm slid over his bulge, rutting up on instinct to your touch. It was so overwhelming, in a way he relished more than you’d ever know. He wanted more, but was too restrained by his own shyness to ask for it. Luckily, with you he didn’t have to.

You slid downwards off the couch cushions to the floor, kneeling between Rick’s spread legs, beginning to loosen the buttons of his shirt. With each one undone, the tension grew, his eyes darting between where his chest was being revealed and the wildness of your expression. It was at his abdomen you started to leave lingering kisses, brushing your nose against the hair trailing down from his bellybutton. Rick’s hips impulsively bucked at the sensation, your mouth so close to the rising pressure below.

“Oh you really want it bad, don’t you?” you mused, your voice somewhat tormenting. “Need me to suck your cock like I did the last time we were together?”

A stuttered sound of surprise left him when you didn’t wait for an answer and instead swiped your tongue over the swollen inseam. It was hard to collect his thoughts, purging a quick reply from his chest. “F-fuck. Oh fuck, I do. Please. Please suck my cock.”

The wicked smirk you responded with set his skin on fire, as you revelled in the relief he hadn’t lost this endearingly desperate nature in the time you’d been apart.

“So needy, Rick. Aren’t you? Such a needy boy.”

Again, he immediately nodded, conceding openly to the statement. As eager as his impatience was, he didn’t dare move, forcing himself still as you unlatched his belt buckle and shimmied down both his pants and underwear. He noticed how you bit your lip as his dick sprung free from the coverings, pupils expanding at the sight of him, flushed a delicious pink, veins weaving proudly around the shaft.

A rumbling whine broke out when you circled a hand around the hilt, your breath skimming over the heated skin. “Oh you’ve got such a pretty cock.” Once more you let an exhale out, making Rick jolt. “I’ve thought about this cock so much while you were gone. How it tasted. How it felt on my tongue. How it filled me so perfectly.”

Rick’s nails scratched into the sofa beneath him when you dipped down only to kiss at the inner portion of his thighs, taking the seemingly long seconds to press your lips to the sensitive skin all around where he craved you most. Every connection made his balls tense, his legs twitch, and you felt every single movement, gratified at the way he could barely seem to hold himself together.

“I thought you didn’t want to waste time!” he rushed out, exasperated.

You receded, all links to his body lost, resting back on your heels. Oh no, this wouldn’t go without punishment. “Excuse me?”  

The face looking back to you was every shade of distraught. “I- I didn’t mean-”

“You think you can leave me for a year and a half and come back to call the shots?”

“N-no! That’s not what-”

“You think you can get what you want so easily? Get me to suck you off and fuck you just like that? Huh?”

In reality, it would have been this simple. But… this was too much fun. Seeing Rick frantic and anxious at the thought of going without.

“Of course not. I don’t… I didn’t expect anything, I swear.”

“You didn’t? Didn’t think I’ve been waiting for you all this time? Didn’t want me to fuck you again? Once was enough?”

The fear in Rick’s face was glaring, cornered and frightened of what you were implying. “No- Of course I wanted you to fuck me again. It’s… FUCK, it’s all I’ve thought about but-”

“Shhh,” you hushed, almost chuckling, your hand slipping up his thigh. “It’s okay sweet boy. I know.”

Rick swallowed hard, exhaling with a shaking breath. He fucking loved when you called him that. And you knew too, with the way his length spasmed in front of you.

“I know you were just impatient. And greedy. Weren’t you?” Another quick succession of nods, Rick staring down at you with a wide-eyed repentance. “Do you want to try and make up for it?”

“I’ll do anything. Please. What is it? Tell me what to do.”

“Touch yourself,” you said succinctly. “Show me how much you missed me.”

At first, he was frozen, unsure at the proposition. He’d never done that for someone before. Had someone watch him. Yet when he fully comprehended your expecting appearance, giving no room for misinterpretation, Rick moved to obey, gripping around the thickness of his shaft and slowly moving his fist up and down.

You became transfixed by his motions, seeing the skin glide over the hardened centre, hearing rumbling whimpers fill the air at each rotation of his wrist. Leaning onto your knees, you had your faces meet again, noting how Rick struggled to keep his eyes open and focused on yours, jaw becoming slack as the low moans seeped out.

“Such a good boy for me.” You gently pushed away some of the mussed hair over his forehead. “Is this what you did when you were alone? Fisted your cock at the thought of me there with you?”

“Mm-hm,” he panted, not slowing his pace. “Even… Took some videos…”

“Did you now?”

“Uh huh.” A loud groan slipped out, his concentration broken momentarily. “But I… I was too afraid to send them.”

You could have chastised him, made him feel shameful over this significant lack of communication. Instead, you wanted to reward him for being so honest, so vulnerable. “It’s alright, I’m getting the live showing now. And it was well worth the wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh definitely.” Your shifted yourself back in front of where his motion became harsher, a droplet of moisture dribbling from the tip. It made you lose some of your composure, dying to know his salted taste after so long with it only sparked from your memories. “You do such a good job of fucking yourself but… Do you know what might feel even better?”

Rick grunted, low and hard. “Fuck. Yes. I do know. Please. Please let me have it.”

“Okay sweet boy, I’ll give you what you want.”

You guided his hand away, replacing it with your own, gazing up as you finally sunk your mouth onto his tip, swirling your tongue around it. The vibration of his subsequent moan could be felt on your lips, your contented smile difficult to contain as you slithered further down.

The thing you’d always remembered about Rick, what had kept your one night together haunting you even after the other men you’d taken to your bed to relieve the restless itch of lust, was how vocal he was. Every moment was filled with a gasping moan or loud whine, something your occasional partners kept in a bizarre secrecy.

So, during time too many times to count, you’d imagined Rick helpless and delirious like he was now, groaning deeply every time you filled your throat with him. His mouth quivered open with pleasured awe as you let a ball of spit drop down, using a hand and tongue in tandem to bring him the pleasure he deserved. Even his glasses began to fog from the heat of his quickened breaths, hips squirming with your every descent, knowing he was creeping closer to his peak by the pitiful sounds he made.

Sensing he was teetering too near to the edge, you retreated. “I hope your not going to cum before I’ve had my chance to fuck you.”

He remained heaving, eyes frenzied from the high he’d fallen from. “Fuck me. Please fuck me. I need… I need to be inside you.”

Toying with him a little more wouldn’t hurt. You stood, reaching at the hem of your skirt to reveal the soaked panties underneath. “You need this? Hm? Is this what you need? You need my cunt?”

“Oh god please,” he begged, seeing the tremble of his lips at the plea.

You smiled, hooking a finger under the lace at each side and slipped the material down your legs. Rick observed in silent amazement as you perched yourself onto the sofa over his lap, settling down with your pussy lips bonding to his hardness. He whimpered as you thrust over the top of it, your slick pronounced and smooth, a precise indication of what his vulnerability did to you.

“This is how wet you made me, being such a good boy,” you purred, adding another advance of your pelvis, having Rick speechless and dumbstruck by the action. “Do you know how many times I’ve been like this? Thinking about what it feels like with your cock inside me?”

In a rare show of confidence, he countered your question. “You don’t have to imagine it now. It’s right here.”

Nestling your cheek against his, you silently agreed, gripping onto his dick to guide it to your entrance, having it split you down the middle. Your moans were synchronised, clinging to each other as you felt Rick complete you, fleetingly lost to the ecstasy of how he filled you like this. But a raging urge took over, wanting to be the one completely in control.

You coiled a hand at his neck, shoving him back into the pillows, looking down while you started to force yourself onto his cock, over and over, savouring the way he whined and moaned under you. “You like it, don’t you? Being fucked like this? You’ve missed it, haven’t you?”

“Yes!” he wailed, the volume dampened by your vice around his throat. “Oh god yes.”

“I want you to cum inside me Rick.” You pressed harder, noting the throb of his cock within, having his nails dig into your rear as your bounced atop of him. “Want it dripping out of me. Can you do that sweet boy? Fill me up?”

He could barely handle it, the thought of thick, white liquid seeping out of your core nearly too much to bear. But you continued, struck by your own desires, grabbing at his idle hand to place two fingers at your clit and move at exactly the tempo you needed.

“Keep this going and you… You’ll make me cum,” you heaved, your voice losing its power as you pressed your body closer to Rick, winding your fingers through his hair as your fucked him harder, deeper, hearing the sobs of his pleasure right at your ear. He didn’t dare defy your demand, swirling over your pleasure point while you impaled yourself. And so suddenly it was out of your influence, crumbling under the nuanced nature of his touch, finding yourself clenching and moaning as the ecstasy overcame you.

While you movements slowed briefly, Rick’s voice broke into balmy air. “Did… Did I do that?”

“Yes, sweet boy,” you panted, gradually descending from your high. “You made me feel so good. And I want to make you feel the same…” You began to rock back and forth, sliding over him with ease, your release coating every inch.

You knew it wouldn’t take long, but Rick was closer to the edge than you’d presumed, his breaths faltering to an uneven beat.

“F-fuck, I can’t hold it.”

With a few vigorous thrusts, Rick was barreling into an explosive climax, pleasure rippling outwards through his long limbs. His thunderous groan was muffled into your neck as he clutched at you, feeling the sweat of his brow swipe across your skin.

“I’m s-sorry,” he puffed, timidly looking to you. “I couldn’t stop it.”

You smiled, fixing his glasses to sit properly at the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to be sorry, you did exactly what I asked.” Gently you pushed a few moistened strands away to settle a kiss at his temple. “Filled me all the way up.”

Rick let out a softened sigh of relief, a toothy grin spreading across his face. “You keep fucking me like that, I’ll never leave you empty again.”

“Again?” you asked playfully. “What makes you think you’ll get another chance to?”

You almost wanted to laugh at the heartbroken frown that met your question. “Don’t make me beg.”

“But Rick, you already know how much I love it when you beg.”

~

Tag list for those who might be interested: @tlcwrites​ @roanniom​ @leatherboundbirate​ @fathersonandhouseofgucci​  @paterson-blue​ @direnightshade​ @hopeamarsu​ @caillea​ @princessxkenobi​ @mariesackler​ @millenialcatlady​​ @daydreamsofren​

(If you ever want to be removed or added to my general tag list, let me know!)

[hartigays]

big brain thot: wheezie being the one to get rafebarry together👀👀

“wheeze, you can’t just show up here like this.”

she hasn’t even gotten off her bicycle yet, helmet still in place and everything. she looks up at rafe with big eyes, rolling them as slowly and dramatically as humanly possible.

“i just did,” wheezie points out, unclipping her helmet and setting it in the front basket of her bike.

rafe eyes her warily, then relaxes a bit. his eyes flicker back towards the trailer. “how’d you even know i’d be here?”

“topper,” she tells him simply, shrugging.

“topper?”

another overly-dramatic eye roll. “yes, topper. he came by looking for sarah and i asked him if he knew where you were. i need help with something.”

“and topper told you i’d be here?” rafe asks, brows raised.

topper is a lot of things, but is he the type of person to send a kid to a coke dealer’s trailer? no, absolutely not.

“i encouraged him,” wheezie replies, a little too vague for rafe’s liking. he narrows his eyes and she sighs. “fine, i kicked him in the crotch until he gave it up. happy?”

rafe snorts at the mental image.

wheezie finally climbs off her bike, standing in front of rafe with her arms crossed. “so, are you going to help me or not?”

he really doesn’t want to say yes. but he’s sort of always had a soft spot for wheezie - she’s one of two people who don’t make him feel completely homicidal.

(the other is sitting back in the trailer, smoking a joint and watching some boxing match on his old as shit tv. the thing has antennas, for fuck’s sake.)

rafe glances back at the trailer again, then turns back to wheezie, scrubbing a hand over his face. “fine. but you can’t come inside, wheeze, i’m serious.”

“why, because of drugs?” wheezie snorts, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “please. i’m pretty sure you smoked weed in my room when i was like, five.��

“that’s not the point,” rafe huffs, his fuse shortening ever-so-slightly. “just tell me what you want.”

for the first time since her arrival, wheezie looks mildly uncomfortable. she bites her lip, looking towards the treeline.

“i want to learn how to fight,” she says, and her voice sounds so small that rafe sort of feels… bad.

which is like a new milestone or whatever, so this is sort of a big moment for him.

“why do you need to learn how to fight?”

wheezie doesn’t say anything for a long stretch. then, her cheeks get red, and the words burst out of her. “i’m getting picked on at school, alright? this girl keeps saying she’s going to beat me up after class and i can only hide from her for so long, you know?”

rafe is mildly taken aback, never figuring wheezie for the type to get bullied. she always seemed self-assured and well adjusted, with a sizable group of friends and an active social life. for a middle schooler, anyway.

“what’s her name?” rafe asks, indignant on his sister’s behalf.

if he had to choose a sister to be the target of bullying, it’d definitely be sarah. wheezie, on the other hand, is just a kid. and if someone is threatening to kick her ass, rafe sure as hell is going to find out who.

“i’m not telling you her name, rafe,” wheezie says. “i don’t want you going and knocking her door down to threaten her or whatever. i want you to teach me how to fight so i can hold my own.”

rafe would probably just kill the kid, not threaten her, whoever she is. but he doesn’t tell this to wheezie, biting his tongue for once.

he rocks back on his heels, then sighs, and beckons for wheezie to follow him into the trailer.

wheezie throws her arms up as if to say fucking finally, following rafe inside.

barry is still smoking on the couch, but when he sees wheezie trailing after rafe, he has the presence of mind to put the joint out with an awkward cough.

“you gonna tell me who your little friend is, country club?”

“i’m his sister, wheezie,” she says before rafe can speak, rolling her shoulders back and holding barry’s gaze steadily.

“wheezie?” barry repeats, then laughs, wagging his finger in her direction. “you funny, kid.”

wheezie gives rafe a look, clearly judging him for his choice of company.

“jury’s still out on you,” wheezie tells barry, eyeing him.

barry actually throws his head back when he laughs this time, and rafe can’t help but eye the line of his throat, his mouth going a little dry.

the worst part is, wheezie notices him staring. she raises a brow at rafe. he just coughs and looks away, regretting every decision he’s made in the last ten minutes.

“look, she wants to learn how to fight,” rafe tells barry. “i figured two heads would be better than one?”

“or you just a pussy and know you can’t beat nobody’s ass, rafe,” barry says, reclining back on the sofa, staring at him through heavily-lidded eyes.

“neither can you,” rafe reminds him.

always reminding him. where rafe has failed, barry has too. rather consistently, as a matter of fact.

“fair ‘nough,” barry says after a stretch, leaning forward again. “two heads, then.”

wheezie coughs, and they both turn to look at her. she gives them a bored look. “are you two done having a moment? or do you still need a minute? because i can step outside if- ”

“shut up, wheeze,” rafe groans, pushing her towards the couch.

they spend the next hour and a half discussing fighting techniques, and the cardinal rules of fighting. the ones rafe and barry abide by, anyway.

there aren’t many. they spend the majority of the time discussing technique.

when wheezie gets sick of listening to them yammer on about the different types of headlocks, she starts to get restless.

“oh my god, i didn’t come for the rules of fight club, alright? will one of you just show me how to punch this bitch in the face?”

both barry and rafe shut up immediately, barry’s mouth dropping open in mild surprise.

rafe just snorts, mumbling fair enough under his breath.

and that’s how rafe ends up watching barry do some sort of shadow boxing with wheezie in the living room. rafe re-lights the joint, watching the scene before him in amusement.

“no, kid, you ain’t gotta do all that fancy shit with your legs,” barry is saying at one point, then demonstrates some sort of kick for her.

rafe forgets sometimes that barry has military training, and despite the fact that he gets his ass beat on a regular basis, he’s a pretty damn good teacher.

the joint is long gone by the time wheezie looks at her watch, cursing.

“shit. rose is gonna kill me,” wheezie mutters, fumbling for her phone.

“just tell her you’re staying at a friend’s,” rafe suggests. “it’s too dark for you to bike back anyway.”

“you could always drive me, you know,” wheezie reminds him. then, her eyes flicker down to what’s left of the joint (basically, the filter) and backtracks. “well, he could.”

she’s pointing at barry, and barry shrugs.

rafe, however, finds himself wanting wheezie to stay. dare he say it, he might’ve actually missed his sister.

he’s pretty sure he’ll regret it later, but regardless he says, “we’ll get you something to eat and you can crash here if you’re too tired to go home after.”

something to eat ends up being freezer-burnt pizza rolls, but wheezie doesn’t complain. she eats her food while scrolling through her phone, glancing up at rafe and barry every now and then.

they’re conversing quietly about a drug deal they have set up later, a big one. rafe doesn’t think wheezie is listening, but he also doesn’t notice the way she keeps glancing up at them, her eyes flickering between them with an unreadable look on her face.

and then, out of nowhere, “are you guys dating?”

rafe looks at her sharply and he sees barry do the same out of the corner of his eye. barry’s mouth had shut so quickly that his teeth clacked together, and rafe can see him rubbing at his jaw.

“what the hell, wheeze?”

wheezie raises her hands in mock-surrender, but still rolls her eyes. “it’s just a question, geez. but thanks for the answer.”

“the fuck is she talkin’ about?” barry asks, his gaze flickering between rafe and wheezie.

“you two,” wheezie explains slowly, looking almost bored. again. rafe is starting to think he’s had a bad influence on her. “you’re dating, right? like that’s why you’re always here, right?”

the latter question is directed towards rafe, and he feels his stupid cheeks betray him, burning red.

“oh, right. you’re men, of course you haven’t talked about it,” wheezie sighs, then stands up and brushes invisible crumbs off her shorts. “well, i conveniently have to use the bathroom, so. use this time wisely, i guess?”

then wheezie disappears from the small kitchen, leaving rafe and barry sitting in thick, palpable silence.

“so… what the fuck just happened?” rafe asks when he can’t take the uncomfortable silence any longer, pointedly not looking at barry.

when barry shifts in his seat, rafe can feel it, and he realizes all at once just how close they’re sitting.

“she thinks… “ barry trails off, shifting in his seat again.

“that we’re dating,” rafe finishes, swallowing around the golf ball-sized lump that has mysteriously appeared in his throat.

rafe can feel barry looking at him. he can feel the heat of his gaze, and wow, wheezie is taking a really long time in the bathroom.

“that what we been doing, country club?” barry asks, and rafe looks over at him so quickly that his neck pops.

rafe searches barry’s face for any trace of humor, but comes up empty.

they’ve been practically living together for months, ever since rafe gave up trying to please ward and joined barry’s little side business. and if he really thinks about it, they have lapsed into something almost nauseatingly domestic.

it’s like. like rafe’s been in this weird, fucked up relationship this whole time, and he’s just now realizing it. and realizing, at the same time, that he doesn’t want it to end now that wheezie has gutted them both and laid everything out in the open, where neither of them can hide.

jesus fucking christ, is he in love with barry? barry the drug dealer?

well, rafe supposes that’s what he would call himself now, too, so. maybe it makes some sort of sense after all.

“i don’t think so, but i think we should now,” rafe finally says. he doesn’t know why he says that last bit, it just sort of slips out before he realizes what he’s saying.

but he doesn’t take it back either.

barry is too quiet next to him. the silence goes on for far too long, and rafe is starting to debate internally whether or not he should dump wheezie’s body in the swamp or somewhere off shore.

finally, barry speaks. “startin’ to think you may be onto somethin’, rafe cameron.”

“so is that a yes?” rafe huffs, already feeling exposed enough as it is. he doesn’t need barry speaking in shades of gray.

suddenly, there are fingers wrapping around his jaw, gentler than rafe would’ve anticipated, and then barry is turning rafe’s head and kissing him.

like, really kissing him. rafe feels like he’s being turned inside out, his insides shifting and adjusting, rearranging and adapting to make room for barry.

it’s not a particularly long kiss, but it’s sure as hell the best one rafe has experienced in his life.

“they teach you that in the army?” rafe asks when barry pulls away, aiming for nonchalant but failing due to the heavy rise and fall of his chest. and the fact that he can’t stop staring at barry’s mouth.

barry just smacks the back of rafe’s head, shoving him lightly. “get the fuck out my kitchen, country club.”

rafe is about to respond when the bathroom door opens, and wheezie pokes her head out.

“ugh, thank god you’re finally done. you should invest in a bathroom fan, you know,” wheezie tells barry, “i could literally hear everything.”

she shudders and gags, barry laughs, and rafe vaults himself out the nearest window.

well, he tries to. barry catches him by the waist easily, dragging him back into his seat. wheezie just rolls her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“okay, well, since you’re done being a drama queen, i think i’d like that ride home now.”