#i swear i was about to sleep but this it too good to just sleep about so let me just be awake for five minutes longer

[frmisnow]

LOVE HIGH !

in which. being a lovesick loser, freshly engaged and high is a crazy combo...

it’s the way his fingers curl tighter around the joint as he watches you, the cherry burning hot, lighting his face in fleeting flickers. he doesn’t even realize how long he’s been staring, the smoke wafting around him like it’s meant to obscure the fact that he’s completely fucking smitten.

you're on the other side of the coach, twisting the little piece of shiny diamond on your finger over and over again. he can’t stop looking at it. at you. the two of you together in his mind, stitched together with vows he hasn’t even spoken yet but already knows by heart.

“you’re gonna hurt yourself like that,” you say, breaking the silence, gesturing lazily at the joint he’s forgotten to actually smoke.

"i like watching you," he mumbles in response and it's an ridiculous answer, just completely stupid. he knows it, you know it but you don’t laugh. instead, you tilt your head, curious, the light catching on your ring like it’s mocking him for how damn much you mean to him.

“you’re high,” you murmur, though there’s no bite to it. you set the cigarette down on the edge of the ashtray and lean back, one strap of your tank top slipping off your shoulder. “always get weird when you’re like this.”

weird. that’s one way to put it. completely fucked up over you would be another, but jungkook doesn’t say that. can’t. his mouth is dry as he watches the way your bare shoulder shifts when you settle deeper into the cushions.

"what are you thinking about?"

and god, he can't tell if you're being sarcastic. the way you emphasize each word, might be a good implication of just that. and yet he couldn't care less, he may even perhaps feel his own ears getting red; flushed.

he doesn’t answer, because if he does, it’ll be too much. it always is with you — the way he thinks about your laugh when he can't sleep, the way you particularly always sound like a bird sort of dying when you are laughing, the way your hands are always so damn cold for some reason but you still shove them under his shirt to steal his warmth.

your fingers trace over his features, as you lean further ahead, to reach his lips, thumb tracing over the soft familar surface.

you smell like him — or maybe he smells like you, he doesn’t even know anymore. the line blurred a long time ago. your thumb drags down from his lips, brushing his jaw, and it’s not fair.

his fingers wrap around your own, intertwining them loosely, aimlessly brushing over your palm, and silence. silence fills the room, enough to listen to his own thoughts. but those are thoughts he doesn't want to feast upon, no you rather.

so to distract himself, he kisses your hand once, twice and thrice. and finally his fingers twist the ring on you, before leaning down to press another kiss on said finger, a silent promise, swear by it.

[whimsicalpolitical]

a request if I may… matty getting mad talking to someone on the phone and girlie is just watching him like😵‍💫😵‍💫 and he takes his frustration out on her😁

content warning: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, dirty talk, spanking,

this has been going on for a while now: matty walking back and forth through the room and getting more frustrated by the phone call.

“fucking christ,” matty says gritting his teeth, “what’s your fucking damage?”

you’re sitting at the edge of the bed, done with your nightly routine and only waiting for your pacing boyfriend now.

sleep is the last thing on your mind though.

twenty minutes torture. matty’s little rage act makes your thighs ache because you’ve been clenching them together the second he started to cuss and swear.

“that’s not what i’ve been saying bro, fucking listen.”

your eyes stay on the veins on his forearm when he’s running his hand through his hair, letting a groan slip out of his mouth.

you bite your lip watching him, feeling your panties dampen as his conversation continues.

“you can fuck off with that.”

you inhale sharply and matty hears. he thinks you’re annoyed because you wanted to go to sleep right before his phone rang.

he walks towards you and cups your cheek as he mouths a ‘sorry’.

“actually, i’ve got better things to do, mate. calm down, roll yourself a spliff and chill out, will do you good, i reckon.”

matty is still standing in front of you, so close to touch, to do anything you want to do to him. your hands sneak around his body to his back over his soft shirt.

“nah, have a nice one, i will not fucking continue this conversation. jesus, yeah, you too.”

matty slides his phone into his back pocket, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. the tension in his jaw doesn’t ease even as he exhales sharply, muttering something about “fucking tosser.”

“i’ve been a right twat tonight,” he says, his voice softer now, almost contrite. the furrow in his brow lingers, though, like he’s still half-lost in whatever argument just happened over the phone. “sorry it took so long.”

you swallow hard, suddenly hyperaware of how close he is. the space between you is barely there, his knees brushing yours where you’re perched on the edge of the bed. his t-shirt clings to him in all the right ways, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander.

you watch him for a moment, taking in the way his shoulders are still tight, his hands shoved into his pockets. he’s not looking at you directly, not yet, but the way his chest rises and falls in short bursts tells you he’s still got all that anger simmering under the surface.

“it’s alright,” you say softly, shaking your head. “but do you want to talk about it?”

his lips press into a thin line, and he tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment like he’s hoping it’ll swallow him whole. “no,” he says finally, voice flat. “you wanted to go to bed, yeah? you must be knackered now.”

you frown, your head tilting. “i’m not, though.”

he glances down at you then, his brow furrowing like he doesn’t quite believe you. “you should be,” he mutters.

you shake your head again, slower this time. “you should talk about it,” you murmur, reaching out to rest your hands on his forearms. your fingers skim over his skin, and his muscles twitch beneath your touch. “it’ll help. get it out of your head, and then maybe you won’t feel so mad.”

he snorts, shaking his head, his eyes darting away from yours. “what’s the point? won’t change anything. and, anyway, you shouldn’t have to deal with me when i’m like this.”

“i don’t mind,” you say, your voice gentle. your thumbs rub small circles against his arms, coaxing him to relax even just a little. “besides, it’s better than letting it fester. you’ll just drive yourself mental.”

he doesn’t respond right away, his gaze dropping to where your hands rest on him. his jaw tightens again, like he’s still debating it, still trying to work through it on his own. but you can feel the way his tension hasn’t eased, the way he’s holding himself so rigid, and you slide your hands up slowly, tracing over his chest now.

“or,” you say, your voice quieter, almost testing, “you could find another way to let it out.”

his eyes snap to yours at that, narrowing slightly. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his tone sharp, defensive, like he’s daring you to say it.

your fingers spread out against his chest, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “it means,” you say slowly, your gaze not wavering from his, “you could do something to relieve that anger.”

his brow lifts slightly, and for a second, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. and then he scoffs, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “are you serious?”

“what?” you ask softly, your voice even, steady.

“were you—” he starts, breaking off with a disbelieving laugh before leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing. “were you getting off on that? me losing my shit?”

your face flushes hot, but you don’t pull your hands away. instead, your fingers curl into his shirt, gripping it lightly as you hold his gaze.

“not like that,” you say quickly, though your voice wavers just enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

“not like that,” he repeats, his tone skeptical. his hands come down to rest on your thighs, his grip firm but not harsh, and he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours. “go on, then. explain it to me.”

you swallow hard, your pulse quickening as his thumb brushes over your cheek. “matty, don’t—”

“don’t what?” he cuts you off. “don’t call you out on it? don’t notice the way you’ve been watching me like you want to devour me. i saw, love. the way you clenched your thighs together.”

you open your mouth to retort, but the words die on your tongue when his lips brush against your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. his hands slide up your thighs, his fingers curling against the fabric of your sleep shorts.

“that’s dirty. thought you’re being a nice girl and you want to talk,” he scoffs, “instead you just want to be fucked.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues kissing your neck and his hands wandering to your upper thighs.

“fuck, you’re warm,” he murmurs, his voice rough in your ear. “and so bloody worked up, is this what my little tantrum does to you?”

you let out a soft whimper, your hands gripping his shirt to ground yourself. “matty…”

“say it,” he demands, pulling back just enough to look at you. his pupils are blown, and his chest rises and falls heavily. “say you like it when I’m like this.”

you hesitate for a moment, but the way his hands tighten on your thighs has you caving. “i like it,” you admit in a shaky whisper. “i like it when you’re… like this.”

“knew it,” he mutters before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

the kiss is all-consuming, a perfect mix of frustration and desire. his hands wander freely now, sliding under your shirt to grip your waist. you gasp against his mouth when his teeth graze your bottom lip, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours.

when he pulls back he shakes his head, “you want me to be rough?”

“yes,” you breathe out as fast as possible.

“christ. alright. lay down, get on the bed.”

you nod and scoot backwards, your eyes fixated on matty, who’s already pulling his shirt over his head.

he looks divine. black jeans with a belt and no shirt, his tattoos on full display for you drives you insane. you squirm a bit, waiting for his next move.

he’s taking your feet into his hand, rubbing your skin softly.

“darling, i need you to be absolutely sure and if you don’t fuck with anything i do, you need to tell me.”

“i swear, matty,” you say, offering him a warm smile.

“perfect.”

you watch his face as he carefully and slowly grabs at the fabric of your sleeping shorts, pulling them all the way down.

“gonna let me do what i want to you then?”

“yes.”

his hands find your hips, he's sliding down the bed, just enough so his head is level with your middle, he dips his head down and presses his lips to the soft flesh, his teeth sink into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, you involuntarily let out a soft moan.

he grips your hips more firmly, almost like you'll disappear before him if he doesn't, he moves his lips to your other hip and nips at your skin, "my fucking gorgeous girl, absolutely filthy for me," he says lowly, his breath hot against your skinz

you whimper softly as both of your hands find the nape of his neck. his mouth moves to the soft swell of your tummy and he nips at the supple skin right above your belly button.

he pulls away and peers up at you, eyes dark and full of lust, his mouth hovers over yours, "you drive me mental, you know that, love?" he whispers fervently against your lips, his fingers squeezing the meat of your thighs.

“i'm pretty crazy about you too, matty," you whisper, his cheeks flush pink at your words, still so bashful. he kisses the heel of your palm before patting the side of your thigh, "turn around for me darling, go on, all fours, need to see all of you," he smirks, his eyes full of intensity as they drag down your body.

you do as he asks and move to the middle of the bed, flipping onto your knees and walking your hands out in front of you, arching your back slightly and hiking your up ass in front of him, he moans at the sight.

"just like that," he praises softly behind you and your pussy throbs, a familiar sticky heat pools in your panties at his words. you playtully take a glance back at him, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he sits up and moves to his knees behind you, his hands run up the backs of your thighs all the way up until they meet the globe of your ass.

"look at you, so fuckin' perfect," he murmurs, oggling the curve of your ass as his index finger sneaks under the lace trim of your panties, taking the material between his forefinger and his thumb and lightly skimming his fingers down the lace, "jesus.”

matty scoffs, “s’kind of pathetic. drenching your little panties because i’m angry.”

his fingers roam down to your covered slit and you let out a soft gasp, which only spurs him on, he runs his fingers along the wet spot on your panties, smirking when he feels the wetness staining your panties, the tips of his fingers dip below your clothed slit,

"that’s my girl though, right? always so fuckin' wet for me.”

it should embarrass you, how easy you are for him but it doesn't because it's matty and knowing how much he revels in this, in you makes that small pinch of embarrassment fade away instantly...every single time.

you risk a look at him over your shoulder as he pulls his finger back out and in one swift movement he puts his finger between his lips, quickly sucking your arousal off his finger, like it's a mindless, habitual thing for him.

his hands reach for the waistband sitting on your hips, pulling the lacy fabric down, marveling at the dark fabric against your skin as he slowly drags the material down your thighs, his eyes catch the wetness soaking the lace while he pulls them down and he moans shamelessly.

“such a pretty cunt, darling.”

your eyes widen while you watch him bunch up the material and shove the lace in his back pocket and then his hand lands an affectionate smack to your ass, "eyes forward, i won’t say it again."

you tear your eyes away as he brings a firm hand to the small of your back, pressing you down and deepening the arch to his liking, you instinctively drop to your forearms- so pliant and needy for him-he brings his mouth down and sinks his teeth into the lush of your ass in approval.

“fucking christ,” he groans behind you, “you’re so easy. gonna let me do what i want to you just because you’re needy, pathetic.”

his hands grab your inner thighs, spreading your legs, now he has full sight of your glistening core, two thick fingers stroke through your folds.

"you’re a mess, darling, look at that- you’re dripping down your legs.”

his words make your cunt throb, you can't help the whine you let out, "matty, please."

matty laughs, “you’re a fucking beg. what do you want?”

"i need you, please do anything, please," you mewl, not caring how pathetic you sound.

but still, not enough for matty. a loud wet smack fills the room as he lays a firm slap to your cunt, your body flinches forward, the edges of your vision blurs and your aching, swollen cunt tingles and clenches at the harsh, yet welcomed contact.

he tuts, "that’s it? you need to try better than that, love. beg for it.”

"matty please, i want your cock. i want it," you whine and writhe beneath his firm palm.

"see? s’all i’ve wanted to hear," he cooes, his slick-coated fingers now soothing your folds. “wouldn’t be fun though if we already skipped to the best part, would it?”

he shifts behind you, sliding down off the bed, kneeling on the floor, he pulls you back towards the edge of the bed by your thighs. he tilts his head up just enough to dig his teeth into the meat of your upper thigh, just below the curve of your ass cheek and soothes the sting with a wet kiss.

you shiver, you're aching for him and his mouth is everywhere except for where you need him to be.

“stop writhing around like a needy slut,” he spits out, “you don’t want me to stop immediately, right?”

“no, no, sorry.” you plead, closing your eyes.

matty’s hands come up to grab the meat of your ass, spreading you open and gently pushing you forward for better access, he brings his mouth to hungrily kiss your inner thighs, tasting the sweet, sticky slick coating your skin and a pitiful moan slips from your lips.

“mhm, perfect.”

matty seems to have heard it and that's all it takes for his lips to make contact with your pussy, your breath hitches in your throat as he flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow swipe through your slicked folds, the first one always drawn out and meticulous and just for him.

“oh f-fuck.” you moan.

a pressure already begins to pull taut low in your belly, you're squirming in his grasp but his hands move to firmly grip your outer thighs, keeping you open for him and pressed flush against his eager mouth. he fucking laves at you, devouring and savouring you like he'd never get the chance again.

“such a perfect one, yeah. my favorite taste.”

the vibrations from occasional muffled moans and groans against your pussy make you chant his name over and over like a prayer, even though he's the one on his knees.

“jesus matty," you moan out, your eyes roll back into your head as the coil inside your belly wounds up so tight every muscle in your body tenses. you start grinding your hips back into his face, he groans in response and loosens his grip on your legs, letting you take what you need from him.

it takes a moment to come down from your high, matty not being a help at all with the same pace he has on your clit.

he flattens his tongue against your clit before he closes his lips around it, suckling it into his mouth and moaning around it, the vibrations from his mouth makes the coil in your belly snap, and you cry out, using the sheets beneath you to stifle the noises slipping through your lips.

“fucking god,” you moan, “matty- can’t.”

matty hums a “you can,” and immediately latches on again.

the tip of his tongue works small, tight circles on your clit around and around, only this time with more pressure than before and within minutes or seconds-you don't really know at this point-you feel the pressure building in your belly and it's growing stronger by every lick and suck from his mouth. his tongue flicks over your clit before he licks it into his mouth once more, closing his lips tightly, he gives it one last tight circle of his tongue and suckle to your clit and you break, your second orgasm crashes over you.

“matty,” you moan over and over again, your brain completely empty with thoughts.

a choked moan escapes you, your legs quiver as they threaten to close while your hands fist the sheets beside your head, the grip he has on your thighs holds you open for him while you come all over his mouth and he laps you up, savoring, slurping, and swallowing down everything you give him.

“fucks sake,” he groans, “perfect cunt.”

milliseconds pass and he shifts behind you, lost in the haze of your orgasm, you can faintly hear ruffling as he stands up. he leans forward, kneading your ass in his palms before bending down to lay another bite on your other cheek, this time with more fervor, leaving a mark, your skin tingles.

matty’s hand is on him, stroking himself slowly, while his other hand is touching your body.

“just a little toy for me, aren’t you, darling?” he asks, not expecting an answer, “gonna let me fuck you?”

matty positions himself right against your ass and places his hands on your hips again and squeezes, “talk to me.”

"not like this,” you whine, not daring to look back, “wanna see you.”

“aww,” matty pouts, “you’ve got too many wishes, you know?”

nevertheless he grips your thighs and turns you around so you’re on your back. you’re eyes are staring at him but it seems like you’re not there, your brain feels hazy.

“you’re alright, love,” matty says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

you can only whine and grip the nape of his neck to receive a proper kiss.

“needy girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you a kiss, licking over your bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth.

your sounds are swallowed by his mouth as he keeps kissing you, grinding himself against your thigh.

“can-please,” you whine, stretching your arm out to find his cock, which is already leaking with pre cum.

matty lets out a quiet groan, you can't help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

“didn’t say you could touch me, love,” he grits out, “s’like you can’t get enough.”

“i can’t,” you smile, tugging at his hair, “can you please fuck me.”

you’re desperate. how could you not be with matty between your legs, right there.

matty slides inside of you roughly, not slow and steady, not giving you any time to adjust, he’s using you.

“fuck, this what you wanted?” he asks as his eyelids flutter closed.

he’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he's pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. there’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him.

matty notices immediately, “fucking christ, you’re making such a mess, s’heavenly.”

“matty,” you moan, “you- s’perfect.”

“yeah?”

matty brings his right hand back down to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers.

you bite down on his shoulder. your propped up foot thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets.

"feel nice?" matty asks into your hair as you bite down onto him, “fucking enjoy yourself?”

“feel so perfect," you whine against him. "jesus, so good,” you slur.

his weight is pushing you down so you can't wiggle away from any of the stimulation he's giving you. it accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don't get enough time to warn him you're close.

you’re clenching around him uncontrollably, rolling your eyes back and clawing your nails into his shoulder blades.

“let me have it, come on,” he groans, rutting into you as deep as before, “come for me.”

he fucks you harder, his pace frantic. "such a perfect cunt, darling." he groans, dipping his head into your neck to nip at your skin. “my gorgeous girl."

"oh, god, matty..." you cry, your orgasm quickly approaching, unable to stop it no matter how much you want to prolong the feeling.

it doesn't take long before your orgasm crashes over you, pulsing through you in waves, back arching off the bed as you reach out for anything to ground yourself. hands finding the back of his head, pulling him into your chest.

“just like that, perfect, darling.”

he follows soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as he empties himself into you, collapsing on top of you, his chest heaving.

“fuck,” he exhales, moving one more slow time again to torture the both of you.

you’re overstimulated, your legs hurting so good there are tears prickling in your eyes. you brush your hands over matty’s shoulders and back, humming as you try to love on him.

“you still angry?” you ask, smiling to yourself.

matty groans when he lifts his head to look at you, stealing a quick kiss, “nah. unless you want me to be,” he jokes.

“give me a break,” you giggle.

“i love you, darling,” he murmurs, sliding out of you, hissing at the cold air.

you scrunch up your nose in pain, your ass, thighs and the skin between your legs hurting real good.

“i’ll draw you a bath, don’t worry, love.”

you enjoy this the most. matty being the sweet boy you’ve known forever, his only mission to take care of you.

[hailthegodsong]

PRACTICE

One Shot ~ College Josh Kiszka x College Female Reader

Word Count: 7k +

Summary: After facing the embarrassment of failing to make a girl cum during his first time, Josh confides in you, his best friend. You figure out together that the best way to learn is with practice, and Josh is very willing to learn.

Content Warnings: College Josh, tons of ellipses (...), mutual pining, kissing, crying, swearing, self-depreciation, reverse hurt/ comfort, awkwardness, brief mention of porn. SMUT 18+ INCLUDING: Guided sexual activity (teaching), oral sex (female and male receiving), lack of knowledge on female anatomy (Josh struggles to find the clit for a hot minute), teeth, accidental edging?, fingering, moaning, erection, grinding, orgasms, happy ending, sleeping together, teasing, flirting and a pinch of domestic fluff.

꧂

Josh had been a constant in your life for as long as you could remember, an unwavering presence woven into the fabric of your childhood through to adulthood. From navigating the labyrinth of high school hallways to chasing the shared ambition of attending the same college, the two of you had always moved in tandem. Together, you weathered it all: sleepless nights bent over textbooks, the dizzying thrill of your first (underage) alcoholic drink, and those languid afternoons when laughter spilled over with the haze of cheap weed. Whatever life demanded, you faced it side by side.

His presence in your dorm had long since ceased to feel like an intrusion. Though the rules of gender-separated housing dictated his place was down the hall, Josh had effortlessly claimed yours as his second home. He’d sprawl across your bed without a hint of self-consciousness, idly flipping through the pages of books he’d never read or tinkering with the turntable until the familiar crackle of your favorite vinyl filled the air. And when he wasn’t here, you were in his room, legs dangling off the edge of his bed as you picked apart the meaning of song lyrics or indulged in your shared taste for philosophical debates that never led to conclusions.

There was a comfort in Josh’s company, a rhythm to it that felt unspoken and eternal. But lately, that ease had begun to fray, tension seeping into the quiet spaces you once took for granted.

You couldn’t pinpoint when it started— when his laugh began to linger in your ears long after the moment had passed. Or when you found yourself watching the way his curls framed his face, wild and untamed. The intensity of your attention startled you sometimes, the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him absentmindedly biting his lip or fiddling with the hem of his shirt. You told yourself it was nothing. A passing infatuation, harmless and insignificant. A crush. It wasn’t like you hadn’t crossed that line before.

Prom night was the first and only time it happened—a kiss born of youthful curiosity and mutual inexperience, convincing yourselves that you couldn't possibly graduate high school without having a first kiss. It hadn’t been love, not in the traditional sense. You’d laughed about it after, promising each other it was no big deal. Just a silly, awkward pact between friends. And for years, it hadn’t been more than that. But now, the memory lingered in sharper focus, refusing to fade.

Tonight, as Josh stood before your mirror, fussing with the stubborn collar of his shirt, there was a shift in the air. His movements lacked their usual carelessness, replaced instead by something more deliberate. His reflection caught yours, his brow furrowing slightly as he smoothed down his curls.

“Okay, okay,” he said, spinning to face you. “Do I look okay? My hair’s not too…” he fluffed his curls around and shook his rigid hands around his head for emphasis, “...feral?”

You tilted your head, assessing him. Josh always looked good, but tonight he’d gone the extra mile. His shirt hugged his lean frame perfectly, the dark jeans emphasizing his toned legs. The faint sheen of cologne reached you even from across the room, and it took effort to suppress a pang of something you didn’t want to name.

“You look fine,” you said, keeping your tone light. “You’ve gotten this far; she obviously likes you.”

The ‘she’ in question was a girl Josh had been seeing for a few weeks. Pretty, confident, and apparently into him enough to invite him over tonight. The way he’d hesitated before telling you about the invitation had clued you in on what he thought it meant. Suggestive comments, he’d said. The implication clear.

Josh was still a virgin. And you suspected that tonight, things may change. 

You ignored the ugly twist of jealousy in your stomach as he flashed you a hopeful smile. “Thanks for the pep talk,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll uh… let you know how it goes?”

You managed a smile and waved him off, saying something about how being late wouldn’t get him very far, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The room felt quieter without him, emptier. Shaking your head, you pulled out your laptop, determined to distract yourself with homework. 

But your mind kept drifting, wondering how the night was going. If it was everything Josh hoped for. If he…

You pushed the thought away and refocused on your screen. The wait was painful, and it didn’t help that his cologne lingered in the air, along with a few clothes he’d left scattered on your floor. You weren’t expecting to see Josh again that night, suspecting he'd return to his dorm… or spend the night at hers, but you were anxiously awaiting a text to clue you in on how the night went.

Two hours later, a knock jolted you from your half-distracted state. You frowned, glancing at the time. When you opened the door, your breath hitched.

Josh stood there, his eyes red and puffy, cheeks wet, curls disheveled. He looked heartbreakingly vulnerable, and before you could think, you were pulling him into your arms.

“Josh, what happened? Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, burying his face in your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your middle in a tight hold. His breath hitched, and you felt the faint tremble of his body as he let out a quiet sob. You shuffled backward into the room, kicking the door shut behind you.

“Josh?” you prompted again, softer this time, reaching up to stroke the back of his head.

He pulled back from your touch, the movement sudden, as if you’d burned him. He swiped at his eyes with the heels of his palms, frustration evident in every movement. “I fucked it up,” he said, voice cracking. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He ran a hand through his hair and gripped it at the root in anguish. 

Your brow furrowed. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Josh let out a dramatic groan, and sat on the end of your bed, eyes closed tight in a grimace as he replayed memories from the night through his head. He huffed and flopped backward onto your bed. He lay sprawled out, staring at the ceiling, blinking away fresh tears. You climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged beside him, your hand resting lightly on his forearm. Your thumb traced soothing circles against his skin as you waited for him to speak.

“I embarrassed myself so bad,” he said finally.

You stayed quiet, sensing he needed to get it all out.

“We were making out,” he gripped his palm against his forehead, and dragged it down his face, pulling the skin as it descended. “Things were… happening… you know, escalating,” he added, his voice tinged with mortification. “She wanted me to go down on her.”

Your throat went dry, and you cleared it quickly. “Okay,” you said carefully.

Josh glanced at you, his cheeks flushing, then returned his gaze to the ceiling. “I mean, I really wanted to. I was happy to. But I’ve never… I’ve never done that before. I… I couldn’t…” He groaned again, throwing an arm over his face. “She said it was fine, but I couldn’t even make her cum.”

You swallowed hard, your heart twisting at how genuinely distressed he sounded.

“I told her I’d keep trying,” he continued, voice breaking. “I wanted to learn, but she just… didn’t want to anymore. Then she said we shouldn’t see each other again. Kicked me out of her room. She… she was so mean about it too, like I’d really wasted her time.”

Your chest tightened. “That’s harsh.”

“It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic,” he muttered. “Can you believe I did research before I went? I even watched porn videos for fucks sake!” he exclaimed, and your brows rose. “I thought– I thought I was prepared. But– I’m just another one of those fucking… idiots, who don't even know how to–”

“Josh,” you interrupted. “It’s not like anyone’s born knowing how to do these things. Porn also probably wasn’t the most trusting research either,” you added with a little smile, “But every girl is different anyways and it takes practice.”

He rolled onto his side to face you, head propped up by his arm. “How am I supposed to practice if I just get kicked out when I try?” He whispered an ‘Oh God’ under his breath, tears dried now, but the look of pure shame and utter embarrassment still ever present on his features. 

You bit your cheek, searching for the right words. “You’re a handsome boy, Josh. There are plenty of girls who’d be happy to… help you figure it out.”

He scoffed. “As if. I’m never trying that again. Too embarrassing.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. He toyed with a loose thread on your lounge pants, his face a display of frustration and sadness.

“I just… I don’t know how she– how can anyone expect me to know how when…” he trailed off, bringing his thumb to his mouth to nervously pick at his fingernail. “I just need someone to teach me,” he whispered, almost to himself.

An impulsively bad idea surfaced in your haze of thoughts. You sat in silence, turning the idea over in your mind. It was ridiculous, maybe even a little reckless, but… you’d suggested something like this before. That kiss on prom night, a way to shed the weight of inexperience, had felt practical at the time. This wasn’t so different, was it? The same kind of problem, the same kind of solution… and maybe…

“I mean,” you said hesitantly. “You could…”

Josh twisted his body below you and flopped his head into your lap casually, looking up at you with those wide, earnest eyes. “Could what?”

Your gaze darted away, one finger twisting one of the curls that framed his face absently. “Never mind. It’s stupid.” You shook your head, heat creeping up your neck.

“No, no,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “Say it. Please. You can’t say anything stupider than I already have tonight.”

You let out a weak chuckle, nerves buzzing under your skin. “I was gonna say… you could– if you were okay with it… you could try it on… I mean, I could teach you.”

The words hung heavy in the air. The silence that followed was almost deafening, broken only by the ticking clock and the faint chirp of crickets outside. You could hear the soft inhale and exhale of your own breaths, and the absence of Joshs, who had apparently stopped breathing. 

You scrunched your face in embarrassment, tilting your head back to avoid his gaze. “Oh my god, that was so stupid. Please forget I ever said that. I don’t know—”

“No!”

Your eyes snapped back to his face as he sat up abruptly, meeting you at eye level. His hand landed lightly on your knee, grounding you.

“No,” he repeated, softer now. “I mean, yes. I mean… no, don’t forget it. I don’t think it’s stupid,” he shook his head frantically. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide with something between nervous anticipation and curiosity. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Really?” you managed, barely above a whisper. The boundaries of your friendship had never been crossed like this before, and the weight of what you were suggesting settled heavily between you.

Josh nodded, his gaze flicking to where his hand rested on your knee before returning to meet your eyes. “I mean, yeah. If you’d be okay with… that. I don't want you to do it just cause you think you have to or anything,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “I want you… to want to.”

The vulnerability in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded, hesitating before speaking. “I do want to,” you admitted softly. Your ears heated at your admittance, and you were quick to correct your confession. “I mean… how else are you gonna learn?” You added quickly, as if it could somehow lessen the gravity of the moment.

Josh exhaled a shaky laugh, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Right. Okay.” He shifted slightly, his hand still on your knee. “But um… we’ll be okay after this, right? I don’t want to mess us up or anything.”

You let out a nervous laugh of your own, shaking your head. “Yeah, we’ll be okay. It’s just like when we kissed in senior year. We can just… forget it ever happened after.” The idea of forgetting something so monumental seemed silly, and you knew for a fact you’d never be able to ‘forget it’. Josh stared at you with uncertainty, your friendship too important to him to lose. “Josh, I’m not going to hate you if you can’t figure it out. Besides,” you teased lightly, “My expectations aren’t particularly high after the way your night went.”

His laughter was genuine, his body relaxing slightly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he quipped, his smile growing. But the tension remained, unspoken yet palpable. Josh glanced around your room, his eyes settling on the quilt cover before he cleared his throat. “So… how do we do this?” he asked, the awkwardness of the question stark against the intimacy of the moment.

You swallowed hard, looking down at your hands. “Um, okay,” you huffed out a short breath, “We’re really doing this,” you murmured, half to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you lifted your gaze to meet his. “Do you want me to… guide you? Or should I let you try and then just… correct you as we go?”

Josh thought for a moment, his mouth pursing as he considered. The soft glow from your bedside lamp illuminated his face, his curls framing him like a halo. “Maybe… just let me try?” he said finally. “And you can tell me if I’m doing something wrong? Tell me what to do instead?”

You nodded, your nerves thrumming under your skin. “Okay,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected. “Let’s just… get it over with.”

Josh’s eyes widened slightly as you stood, the reality of the situation hitting you both. You hesitated for a moment before pulling down your lounge pants, exposing your legs. You still wore your panties, the fabric a modest barrier that somehow felt more intimate than nothing at all. You kept your chin high, determined not to succumb to the embarrassment bubbling inside you.

You climbed back onto the bed, lying against the pillows so you could watch him. The air was thick with tension, the weight of what you were doing sinking in. “I’m going to leave these on for you to take off,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “It’s not just about… you know. It’s a process. For girls, at least. You need to take your time. Go slow.”

Josh nodded, repositioning himself to kneel between your legs. His movements were hesitant, the vulnerability of the moment clear in the way his hands hovered uncertainly. As he leaned forward, his breathing matched yours— uneven and nervous.

You caught an accidental glimpse of the growing bulge in his jeans, your cheeks heating at the sight. 

Josh’s gaze flickered briefly before he clenched his jaw, his own embarrassment evident. “I know,” he muttered, noticing your wandering gaze. “Just… ignore it.”

You stifled a proud smirk, the idea of him feeling aroused right now sending a similar pang down to your core. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? I’m not… I might not be able to…” Josh asked, insecurity creeping in on himself as he lowered himself, eye level with your clothed pussy. Having an embarrassing encounter with a girl he’d been seeing was bad enough, but for the same thing to happen with the woman he admired most? He’d never live it down. 

“I’m sure. I mean, this is really fucking weird,” you laughed, “But if you don’t do well that’s okay, that’s what we’re doing this for, right?” 

Josh nodded, jaw tight, before he refocused his gaze to your barely covered pelvis. “You’re right, this is…” Josh blew out a long breath, and you felt it hit your inner thighs, “Really fucking weird. I can’t believe we’re doing this.” 

“Don’t think about it too much,” you advised, voice wavering in your faux confidence. Josh nodded and swallowed, taking a deep breath before reaching his hand up your legs to gently grasp the lacy sides of your panties. 

Looking back to your blown out eyes, he licked his lips. “Can I take this off?” 

You nodded quickly, trying to calm your racing heart and to somehow control the heaving of your chest. With fluttering eyes, Josh took a hold of your underwear on each side of your hip, and gently pulled them downward. 

So you were really doing this. 

You tilted your hips to aid in the removal of the only thing maintaining your modesty, and blew out a tight breath when Josh's eyes refocused on your pussy, now completely bare. 

“Shit, okay,” he breathed out, eyes glossy as he stared down at you. You instinctively closed your knees insecurely, cueing Josh in that he wasn't the only one who felt that they had expectations tonight. 

He placed a gentle hand on your knee and looked back up to you, “Don't be shy.” His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, “If you don't want to do this anymore just tell me, please.”

You nodded quietly, “I’m fine. Same uh… same for you.”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything else as he gently parted your knees for him, exposing you once more. With a dramatic roll of his shoulders, as if he were warming up for a workout, Josh then plopped back onto his forearms, the bed bouncing slightly under his weight. 

You giggled a little at his theatrics, earning you a smirk from below. The smile was familiar, and you eased out a breath of comfort remembering that this was Josh. You didn’t ever have to feel self-conscious around him. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna go in,” Josh stated, though it was more like the question with the way he watched you, unsure, but a little curious too. 

You nodded, reaching for another pillow to prop beneath your head, “Just go slow, remember? It’s more sensitive at the start,” you advised. 

Josh nodded, and dipped his head between your legs. Your stomach caved with anticipation. You tilted your head back to brace yourself for the contact, staring pleadingly at the ceiling as if it would give you any answers as to what on earth you were both doing. 

Your leg twitched softly as you unexpectedly felt a barely-there kiss planted against your inner thigh, Josh's hand creeping beneath the curve of your plush limb to hold. His eyes found yours quickly at the first movement. He was unspeaking, but his expression was question enough.

You nodded, “Keep going.”

With a timid smile, he nodded once, before his head disappeared between your legs again. He placed another kiss to the same spot on the other leg, lingering a little bit longer before pulling away, only just. 

His lips grazed your skin as he dragged them closer to your pussy, planting another kiss before moving on. 

You swallowed, feeling yourself throb in anticipation. You’d have expected him to be more… clumsy? You weren't quite sure, but the tentative, slow burning nature of Josh's journey was not what you were expecting. 

At last, his lips found where you needed him most, grazing across your sensitive skin, before he pressed one long, wet kiss to your clit. 

You gasped as his lips practically enveloped the sensitive bud, and he pulled back slightly, eyebrows rising as his eyes found your face, watching intently for a reaction. Satisfied with what he saw, he looked back down, and reconnected his lips with your aching core. 

You were embarrassingly wet, and if Josh noticed, he didn't point it out. He ran his tongue down to your entrance and gathered some wetness and spread it over you, coating you in your arousal. The unholy sounds of your moistened skin reverberated in the otherwise quiet room, and you fought back a blush. Josh shuffled below, repositioning his legs so that his groin was in direct contact with the mattress. 

You didn’t have much time to think about it before his tongue dragged up through you, stopping just below your clit as his lips sucked on… well, nothing.

You furrowed your brow and peered down at him. You could feel his tongue darting out to touch you, licking between his plush lips, just above your entrance. 

“Josh, what… what are you doing?” you asked, bending a knee a little higher and widening it to see him better.

Josh's eyes bounced to yours in an instant. “Does… does that not feel good?”

You smiled sympathetically at him, “No… not really.” Josh's ears went bright red. “I mean, you're doing the right thing, but do it… do it where you were before… on my clit.”

“I thought I was?” he wondered, peering down at you and reaching his index finger to touch that same– close, yet wrong spot, just between your clit and your entrance. “Isn’t it here?”

You let loose a silly smile as you shook your head, “No, you had it before…” you commented, reaching down to lift his finger marginally higher until it rested over the nub. His eyes zeroed in on the spot, mouth open in a lazy ‘o’. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was told it was just above the… hole. Like almost on the edge,” he whispered, slowly circling the spot and watching you for your reaction. 

You stifled a moan as you squirmed a little. “Don’t apologise, you weren’t far off,” you choked out. “Who– who told you that?” you asked, sanity slipping through your fingers as you tried to compose yourself against Josh's moving fingers. It was as if he had forgotten he was even touching you.

Josh smiled sheepishly, “Jake.” 

You rolled your eyes and Josh pumped his brows once before dipping his head back down. He reattached his lips to you, this time right over your clit, eyes watching you for approval. The look of ecstasy on your face was apparently enough, as his suction broke momentarily through his little smile. 

His tongue slipped through his lips and lightly flicked your clit, causing you to cry out. You could have died of embarrassment right then, keeping your eyes on the ceiling to avoid Josh's burning stare. 

If Josh minded you being vocal, he didn't let it show as he continued his movements, gracing your swollen skin with soft, calculated movements. You bit your lip hard as his tongue continued to flick against you, that familiar, warm, tight feeling building in the depth of your stomach. 

But as quickly as it arrived, the feeling left you, as Josh's pace changed completely. You sniffed, and tried to get used to the new rhythm, straightening your shoulders slightly. 

Your mouth parted in a gentle sigh as you grew comfortable with his movements again, a little slower than before, but just as pleasurable. Although he’d been a little clumsy here and there– and failed to locate the clit– Josh was doing a pretty good job, you thought. You weren’t so sure what that girl had had an issue with.

You hummed happily as his movements brought forth another wave of pleasure, tightness building in your stomach again. Alas, Josh’s tongue changed rhythm again. 

You threw your head back in annoyance, feeling the warm fuzzy feeling leave you in a blip. 

“Josh…” you started, bringing your hand to his shoulder and tapping lightly. He popped his head up, chin listening and eyes dazed. 

“Yeah?” he asked. His arms were still hooked tightly around your thighs, keeping both you and him grounded in the act. His contented look quickly fell when he took in your expression. “Oh. What is it? Tell me, please.”

“You’re… you’re doing really good, I promise, it's just that…” you hesitated. It was a lot harder giving feedback in the bedroom than you would have thought. Maybe it was the people pleaser in you, or maybe it was because you cared about Josh, but you felt bad. 

“Just what? Tell me, c’mon, I wanna learn,” he pleaded with an encouraging smile, squeezing your thighs reassuringly. 

“You just keep changing it up. I can’t…” you struggled for the words, “Everytime you… get on track, I guess– you change up the rhythm. I can’t keep up.” 

Josh bit his cheek and pursed his lips, deep in thought. “Shit, sorry. Okay, I’ll be more… consistent. Can you let me know I’m doing it right though? I think I’m changing ‘cause I don't know if you're– if it's good.”

You nodded, and sat back as he returned to you. This time, when he reconnected with you, the pace was steady as before, and the concentrated stare he held on your face told you he was trying his absolute best to do this right. 

“More… more pressure,” you advised, your instruction quickly followed as Josh's tongue rubbed against you harder. 

You bit your lip to keep at bay your moans, and to your dismay, Josh's mouth left you entirely, leaving behind a cold gust of air. You let out a small, frustrated sigh.

Josh swallowed and wiped his chin, “I need you to make more… noise. Please don’t be shy about it. I just don't know if I’m doing it right.”

“Okay,” you breathed, not expecting him to ask that of you, “I will.” For some reason, letting sounds of pleasure escape you seemed far more intimate. Despite the fact that he was literally rubbing his mouth against your pussy, the whole experience had seemed rather transactional, and you’d tried your best to keep it friendly. But showing him that you were actually aroused and enjoying yourself seemed a step further from ‘friendly’.

Josh dove back in, a lot lower this time as he’d decided to try something new, his mouth directly over your opening. He experimentally circled your entrance with his tongue, glancing up at you frequently, before he slowly nudged it inside. 

“Oh shit,” you whimpered pathetically, the feeling reminding you of what had been missing. Josh pushed it in a little deeper, and curled his tongue so that it dragged along your front walls. His thumb reached up to your clit, eyes watching to make sure he got the right spot as he pressed down, rubbing slow, deliberate circles. 

Unable to help yourself, your hand found his head, fingers kneading into his curls as he worked you perfectly. 

“Fuck Josh, thats it,” you whispered. You couldn’t cum like this, but God did it feel good. A low sound reverberated from Josh’s chest when you tightened your hold on his hair, pushing him a little bit closer to you as you let free a moan. 

Peering down at him again, you noticed one of his hands had abandoned his tight hold on your thigh, and was now preoccupied with palming himself through his jeans. 

Your chest was heaving. It felt so good, and Josh was practically feeding off your energy. Your fingers kneaded into his hair, letting yourself relax completely against him. 

His tongue jerked against your walls for a while longer, thumbing continuing to rub circles over your clit, until he slowed, somehow cuing that as good as it felt, you weren't finishing from that alone.

You sighed as he slowed, feeling him slip his tongue out of you and look back up at you, licking his lips. He smiled shyly at the look of you, cheeks red and forehead slightly damp with sweat. Your hair had gone a little messy against the pillow and you stared down at him with a certain look on your face that had his stomach flipping. He leaned back on his knees to sit on his heels.

The way you looked then, the thought, was the most beautiful he’d ever seen you before. 

“Any feedback?” he asked, a little awkward smile playing on his lips. 

“None.”

He smirked proudly at that. “I wanna… I wanna try and make you cum now. Is that okay?” he asked. 

“Isn’t that the whole reason we’re doing this?” you asked, laughing a little.

He shrugged, “Well, I know it takes a while. And it’s not always about finishing. ‘S important to make you– make girls feel good for the… duration.” A blush crept on his cheeks at the slip up, but you ignored it. 

You whispered a small ‘true,’ as Josh fell forward onto his forearms. 

“Okay, take five, or however many times I’ve gone back in now,” he joked, and you giggled a little. The sight of your abdomen bobbing with your laughs had Josh feeling all warm and cozy inside. 

Returning his mouth, Josh spread the wetness from your centre back up through your folds to your clit, eyes darting to you to ensure he was actually there, before shutting his eyes and giving it some much needed attention again. First he licked, and you moaned lightly at the sensation, and then he sucked, which brought your hand back to his curls and your back arching into his touch. 

The tight suction on your clit left, and he left a long sloppy kiss to it again, burying his face in you completely. Unfortunately, it was a bit too deep, and something hard scraped the sensitive flesh.

“Ah teeth!” you yelped with a jolt. 

Josh held your hips steady and smiled up at you sheepishly, “Sorry, accident.”

He dipped back down and continued to lick and suck– mostly at the same time. He experimented with pace for only a moment before finding what suited you best– or, what made you moan the loudest and writhe the most restlessly. 

One of his hands drifted up your inner thigh and his middle finger found your entrance, the tip tracing the edge questioningly. His eyes found you again, and you nodded frantically, brows furrowed in ecstasy. 

“Do it Josh, please. Do it, do it,” you pleaded, your arousal getting the best of you. Slowly, he coated his finger in the same wetness, and eased it gently inside of you. Your walls wrapped around him, warm and tight as you pulled him in. He groaned into you at the sensation, but you didn’t care, pulling his face in closer as you chased the heavenly feeling brewing in your stomach. 

“Another,” you breathed, “Another, Josh.”

Josh didn’t make you ask twice, as he eased his ring finger in beside the other, curling the digits against your walls just as his tongue had, though hitting you deeper and with more strength– more calculation. 

It was perfect. His tongue flicked against your clit quickly, the pace unwavering between his lips that wrapped tightly around you, as if sucking you into his mouth. His fingers moved perfectly inside you, hitting that spot expertly each time. You cried out when he pressed just a little more pressure against your clit with his tongue.

One glance down at him, eyes closed in contentment, mouth on you and fingers in you, brought you to the edge– but the sight of him rubbing his hard-on through his jeans pushed you over it. 

“Yes yes yes yes, don’t stop, Josh I’m– fuck!” you cried, holding Josh's head against you as if he were leaving, hips bucking against his face. You were sure he was suffocating against you, but he didnt stop, groaning into you as you practically rode his face. 

You came down slowly, though still floated in a haze of pleasure. Josh slowed his movements in sync with your pulsing walls, contracting against his fingers. 

Being in this high of sexual euphoria was dangerous, like lacking sobriety and spilling your guts without a second thought. You realised that when you heard yourself ask Josh to take his pants off. 

His head whipped up immediately, meeting your eyes in a wide look of disbelief. “What?”

No longer being touched, your rationality sent a flush up your neck. You wish you could have taken it back, maintained the somewhat hidden nature of your activity, and continued to allow you both to pretend that you were only doing this for Josh’s… sexual education. Alas, he had heard you, and he was awaiting a response. There was no turning back now.

“Your jeans. Take them off… please?” You were desperate at this point.

What the fuck were you thinking? 

Josh swallowed and clumsily pulled away from you, shuffling off the bed and onto his legs, wobblier than he was expecting. His eyes remained locked on you as he fumbled with his belt, fingers trembling against the silver buckle. Once it was unclipped, his fly was undone in a flash and his jeans were practically ripped down his legs. He stumbled with the fabric around his ankles for a moment, and you watched amusedly from the bed as he hopped on one foot, fighting the jeans off his body. 

“For fucks sake,” he muttered, tearing them away from his body before straightening up. He stared at you, now only in his– very tented– underwear. His chest was heaving in anticipation– in excitement. 

Taking a chance that you knew you shouldn’t have, you slowly crawled off the bed, to stand in front of him, and lowered yourself to your knees. Josh lost his breath at your movement, mouth agape as he breathed heavily, hands hovering by his sides.

You placed one hand on the front of his thigh gently, and looked up at him for a go ahead. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered, seemingly out of breath. 

With a sudden burst of confidence, you smiled a little, “Can I… return the favour?”

Josh swallowed thickly and tore his eyes away from yours, no longer able to stare at you without making a fool of himself. He instead stared at the wall ahead. “Yes. But you don't have to if–” he choked out, breath caught when you slid your palm from his thigh to his hard bulge. 

His breath shuddered in a voiced whine, one hand steadying himself on your shoulder. 

“We shouldn't be doing this,” he advised as you squeezed him through the thin fabric of his navy boxers. 

“I know,” you agreed, taking the waistband between your fingers and sliding his boxers past his hips and to his ankles. His cock sprang free, hard and swollen, bouncing in the air a little only inches away from your face. 

Josh cursed as you exposed him, running a hand through his already disheveled curls in a feeble attempt to ground himself. You took a moment to study him, eyes taking in his pink, swollen head, the same shade of pink as his lips. He curved to the left a little, and he was thick and beautiful as ever. 

You looked up at him through your lashes, “Can I?” 

Josh's mouth hung open as he nodded desperately, drunk with desire. “I’m not gonna– I won't be able to last… I’m already– fuck. I can’t hold on for long–”

You cut him off, gently shushing him as you leaned forward and placed your pouted lips against the head of his cock. It was already a little damp, tasting faintly of pre-cum, and you happily coated your lips with the substance. You didn’t get much further before Josh's hands found your top, tugging the collar gently. 

“Please… off?” he pleaded. You nodded and pulled your shirt up over your head, Joshs helping hands pulling it off your arms eagerly. Though wearing a bra, Josh ogled at your breasts shamelessly, eyes wide and mouth still parted. The lustful look on his face was absolutely sinful. 

You brought your mouth back to his aching cock, wrapping your lips around him and lowering yourself only slightly, so that the head was completely enveloped between your lips. Josh moaned and brought a hand forth to the back of your head, but quickly pulled it away anxiously. 

His attempt to remain respectful while you were on your knees for him made you smile. You reached back and took his hand in yours, pulling it to rest against your head.

“Oh God,” he whispered. You popped your lips off him and ran your tongue down his length, leaving wet sloppy kisses in your wake to wetten his skin, and his thighs trembled at the contact. 

You brought your hand up to the length and pumped him twice, coating his cock in your spit, before taking him into your mouth as best as you could. Your hand held whatever you couldn't fit, and you wrapped your lips around him tightly, conscious to keep your teeth out of the way. 

“Oh– fuck,” Josh moaned. He called your name as his fist tightened in your hair, not pulling or pushing, just holding on. You were dimly aware of a gust of air that followed the removal of his own shirt, and you peered up at his body, fully naked, glowing, and as beautiful as ever. 

As you began to pump Josh into your mouth, you slid your other hand from his hip up his abdomen until it was resting just below his sternum. He wasted no time in pressing his own hand against yours, holding it there, against his heaving body. 

“I– I can’t… fuck me. I’m gonna cum, I’m sorry! I–” Josh whimpered, body trembling. You eagerly continued your movements, knowing he’d been waiting long enough for his own release, revelling in the way he fell apart at your hands. 

A string of explicit curses left his lips in whines and moans and his legs trembled, hips tight in an attempt not to buck, before you felt him cum inside your mouth, warm and salty. You eased your movements, letting him finish while he whispered incoherent incantations under his breath, before you pulled yourself off him, swallowing his release and smiling up at him shyly. 

When your eyes found Josh’s, he held you in a stare so enraptured in awe, that your own breathing stuttered. In a moment, Josh had dropped himself to his knees in front of you, face so close that you could feel his breath fan against your cheek. 

His eyes darted between your own, and he wore an expression of pained adoration. 

“Can I please kiss you?” he asked, fingers reaching up to trace your jaw. You only got in one nod before his lips came crashing into yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and he on yours, as you both let your passion take over completely. Kissing Josh was familiar, and you found yourself in your prom dress again, Josh in his tux that was slightly too big for him, kissing in the dark parking lot in a place where no one could see. 

When you pulled away for air, Josh stared at you as if you’d hung the moon. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispered, tongue gracing his bottom lip as if he couldn’t stop tasting you. 

“Me too,” you admitted, blushing manically. “Will you stay the night?” you asked bravely. 

Josh nodded quickly. “Yes– yeah, of course.”

With a shy smile, Josh stood, and helped you stand too, now a little awkward as you stood before each other completely naked, save for your bra. Josh cupped his softening dick, anxiously looking for his boxers in the mess of the room, and you shamesly watched his round, perky ass as he bent over to retrieve them, before slipping them up his toned thighs and over his pelvis. 

You retrieved a pair of underwear and some light pajamas to wear for the night, finding it amusing how Josh maintained a respectful gaze as you changed, eyes on the floor as if he hadn't just brought you to orgasm with his mouth. 

“We should probably talk about… everything that just happened,” you suggested as you stepped into your small ensuite to brush your teeth. 

Josh followed behind you and stood against your back as you stared into the bathroom mirror, resting his head on your shoulder. “We should, but can we wait until tomorrow?” he pouted.

You smiled and coated your toothbrush and the spare he always left in your bathroom for emergencies with toothpaste and shoved it into his mouth. 

You both brushed your teeth in silence, stealing silly glances at each other in the mirror and giggling around your toothbrushes. This was the most absurd situation you’d ever found yourself in. 

Once done, you made your way to your bed. Josh had stayed over before, and you'd certainly shared a bed before too, but never had just been only in his boxers doing so. Never had you gone down on each other either, but there you were. 

Josh slipped under the covers beside you, and waited until you were situated before he switched off your bedside lamp. You could feel the heat of his body, not far from yours, and cautiously reached out your hand for him to hold. 

He took it quickly, and squeezed comfortingly. You turned on your side, mimicking his position so that you were facing him. Josh smiled a little, the outlines of his face illuminated by the moonlight.

“Whatever happens tomorrow, I…I would really like to, um– to do that with you again… If you would like to, too.”

You smiled lazily at him, “I’d like that.”

His expression lifted, “So I did good?” 

You shrugged with a sarcastic lift of your brows, “You got there in the end.”

Josh shuffled closer, “Hmm… I guess we’ll need to try again then. ‘Got there in the end’ isn’t quite the response I was going for,” he teased.

You smiled, “A bit more practice couldn’t hurt.”

꧂

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[ellieslittleslutt]

Late Nights

cw: fluff?? vi calls reader cupcake and princess once but that expected. some vague mentions of insomnia i guess.

a/n: uhm so first vi fic that’s wild, defo going to write more roommate vi bc im yearning and i need her so bad it’s not even funny.

wc- 0.5k

🐛°‧🍂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･───────────────

you had problems with sleeping sometimes. wether it was going to bed at a reasonable time or even just getting a deep sleep it was always a problem with you.

tonight was no exception. you were lounging on the couch of your guys’ apartment, doom scrolling on tiktok mindlessly liking whatever you found the slightest bit relatable. it’s was around 1 am which wasn’t too bad but still not ideal. on the coffee table sat a your favorite mug full of sleepytime tea in hopes that it would coax you back to sleep, but like every other time it never worked and didn’t even taste that good.

you were huddled up in the blankets when you saw your pink haired roommate coming out of her room, hair messed up wearing sleep shorts and a sports bra. she didn’t notice you at first in the dark, but then she accidentally sat down on you causing you to yelp smacking her arm “vi get off of me” you groaned.

“shit sorry princess” she mumbled half asleep scooting over. that god damn nickname always got you. you huffed going back to your phone “why’re you up?” you mumbled glancing at her. “i could ask you the same thing hm?” she hums sipping your tea “eugh fuck, this taste like dirty cardboard water” her face in a tight frown putting the mug down. “why do you think it’s half full idiot”

she leaned back against the couch sighing “so wait why’re you up?” she asked glancing over at you. “couldn’t sleep” you hummed resting your head against your elbow looking at her “and you?”“fucking jayce kept calling me” she mumbled with a yawn “asking about how to get bitches.” you chuckled softly shaking your head “viktor?” you asked “you know it.”

you hummed looking over at her kind of star struck by how she looked. you swear you had cartoon heart eyes beating out of your eye sockets. she looked at you with a soft smile patting your shin “wanna watch a movie?” she asks snapping you out of your trance and you just nodded clearing your throat “oh yeah” you said awkwardly pushing yourself up reaching for the remote.

you two both agreed on mean girls because why the fuck not. you sat closer to her your head slowly lolling itself onto her shoulder, vi looked down at you wrapping an arm around you so that you don’t slump down “you’re gonna hurt your neck if you fall asleep like that” she whispered rubbing your arm.

you hummed sleepily in response your lashes resting against your cheeks. bi made the connection that you weren’t going to get back to bed on your own so she paused the movie, and got up slowly lifting you into her arms to carry you back to your room lying you back down onto your blankets tucking you into how you liked.

you don’t know why but just for some reason you feel comfortable around vi, more relaxed and liek your self. this is one of the few nights you fell asleep before 3 am and without a melatonin.

vi walked to the door turning off the lamp “night cupcake” she said softly before shutting the door walking off to her room.

from that night on vi would meet you in the couch just so you could yes fall asleep in her arms, totally platonic though… right?

🐛°‧🍂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･───────────────

@autisticintr0vert wifey: @bugbit3ss

[the-universal-sun]

in NEED of some sad little stan with ford comforting him.. maybe him telling ford about his past being homeless and regressing from talking about the memories

Thank you for the request and very sorry it took so long to get to it, I hope you're still here to read it! I enjoyed writing it very much, even if Stan doesn't regress until about halfway down. I do have some drabbles in the works that are lil' stan all the way through though...Enough about that, thank you again for the request, I hope it lives up to your expectations! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was a good prompt and I thank you again, Anon, for the ask! Sorry if the tone seems to flip flop around, I took a long break to finish up some chores when writing this.

As always, I'm open to helpful comments and advice, please enjoy!

TW: Stan talks a little about his time in the back of a trunk, but it's essentially just Stan describing his feelings and dropping when telling Ford. If you want to void that paragraph, it starts at "It was about the time I spent in Mexico" and ends at "get his words out without blubbering. "

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a rough night for Stan. There was a storm going on out on the water and the violent rocking of the Stan O' War made him stumble and burn his tongue on the still hot stew was made, then he just couldn't find the right position to sleep in, his back hurting on his side, his front, when he was laying back on his orthopedic pillow, nothing was right. And when he did finally manage to get to sleep, nightmares and memories he wishes stayed forgotten clawed at his mind all night, finally jerking him awake too early in the morning for anyone to function. Anyone but Ford, that is, who seemed well rested and eager to start the day. Stan swears his brother was whistling a tune while he made coffee he was just that damn chipper. Stan wasn't. He wanted to sleep, but he knows even if he could, nightmares would find their way back in, and he cannot deal with those right now, not with how close he was to dropping and regressing-which he honestly wasn't in the mood for right now, his body and mind to anxious and exhausted to focus on that allure. Instead, he just grunted when Ford asked him about how he slept. And he only gave short one word answers throughout the day, his mood souring further and further as the humid sun beat down on them. He thought he was doing well in hiding it from Ford until, around late afternoon, his brother turns to him, arms crossed and an expression that was identical to their mother's when she got annoyed with their attitudes, and demanded an explanation.

"Stanley, what is the matter with you today? You've been crochety and grumpy all day, and it's starting to get on my nerves." He stands there, waiting for Stan to respond. Jesus, can't Stan have a bad day without it being turned into a big deal? He heaves a sigh after a few moments, not wanting to get into an argument with the way he's feeling.

" 'S nothing, Stanford, just had a rough time getting to sleep, s'all. Nothing for you to worry about." He shrugs, trying to keep it casual and not alert his brother to just why he had a hard time sleeping. Stan hopes he'll drop and they can go back to setting up fishing lines. Stan doesn't think he can keep a good grip on his pole today, so he's got the rail grip out for it. He just wants to sit back and relax and not think about bad dreams and phantom body aches.

"Hard time sleeping? Was it the storm, Stanley? It was pretty rough last night, but it ended around 2 am and I've seen you sleep through rougher. Though I do recall hearing you complain and grumble about your back periodically throughout the night..." Stan, knowing his brother will reach some sort of conclusion on his own, whether accurate or not, just sighs again and starts putting up their fishing gear. Once Stanford got started, it took a while for him to finish, and once he comes to his conclusion, whatever it is, he's going to insist Stan go and get some rest or, god forbid, talk about it. Yeesh, just thinking about it made his whole body cringe. He's finished packing everything up and is halfway to the door back inside before Ford pipes up with his conclusion as to what Stan's problem was.

"You had a nightmare! Probably of a memory that just came back to you! Why didn't I see it before! You're always in a dour mood when you have a memory come to you in this form, it should've been my first thought, really! I was too absorbed in writing down my latest findings...that...I..." Ford stops, wincing at the sight of Stanley's blank stare from the doorway, eyebrow raised. Stan only rolls his eyes up, earning another wince, before he gestures to the open door. If they're going to have an emotional talk, Stan would rather do it in air conditioning. He leaves the box of fishing gear by the door and heads to their room, he'll need the comfort of his teddy bear if Ford's going to make him talk about his nightmare. And trust him, Ford will make him talk, probably by sheer annoyance and pestering. He grabs his Teddy and heads to the kitchen, bypassing Ford loitering in the door way and ignoring the stare aimed at him. He doesn't need to feel like he's going to regress to have Poindexter, the stuffed toy has been a comfort for him since he was 19, and it's still one now, no matter his headspace. He settles in the kitchen, grabbing a diet Pitt Cola, more for something to do with his hands and mouth than desire to drink it. He adverts his eyes when Stanford settles down in front of him, staring silently.

"Stanley, you know we need to talk about this, if it was a memory, it needs to go in one of your memory books, just in case you have a lapse. You also need to talk about it for your own mental health, you know what Mabel says, bottling your emotions will only lead to explosions." Stan loves his great-niece, he truly does, but she was all on abord with his brother when he got into his "caring about peoples (Stanley's) emotions and helping them with their mental health." phase, which is seeming less like a phase every day.

"Yeah I had a nightmare, it was about an incident during a drifter days. It was sucky and I hated it, and I'll write it down in the Bad Memory journal later. There, we talked about it, I'll go rest now. We done?" Stan starts to get up from the small table.

"No we are not done! You actually have to talk about it, Stanley, share the details of your nightmare with me. And I know you won't write it down! So we are going to sit here and you are going to talk. And trust me, I can play the waiting game. I can play it all day." Dang it, Ford's stern about this, and Stan knows he means it, waiting for him to talk. He's done it before, they sat there from sun rise to almost sun set before Stan gave in and talked. He sighs, cracking open the soda and setting his bear next to him at the table, talking more to it than to Ford, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes. He takes a while to gather his thoughts, to think about the best way to get through this. He grabs his teddy with his free hand, just to hold and pet so his nerves can calm down.

"It was about the time I spent in Mexico, there was an-uh-incident and," Stan blows some air out of his mouth, wondering why it was so hard to talk about this particular memory with Ford. "I had to chew my way out of a trunk." He still refuses to look at him, staring down at Poindexter, his worn but well loved Teddy who's been with him through everything. Stan's amazed he's never lost the poor thing, with how many times he's been on the run and in jail-thankfully they keep the stuff you had when you went in and kept your car impounded if you were in for less than 3 years, so no one was able to throw him away. He keeps his grip on Poindexter tight as he talks about his nightmare, how terrified he felt and how he truly believed, for the first time in his life, he was going to die. He recounts the experience, and not without a few barbs and poor tasting jokes, going from holding Poindexter to hugging him tightly, needing his comfort. Stan can feel his headspace creeping up on him, already so close to dropping and getting even closer to it the more he talks. He doesn't even realize he's started rocking until he knocks into the table, startling him into silence until Stanford quietly urges for him to continue talking about his nightmare, his brother writing down his words in a memory journal. Stan starts slipping further and further as he gets to the part where had to chew through the harsh metal of a car trunk, he can feel the tears sting his eyes, but he can't worry about them, too focused on being able to get his words out without blubbering.

He finishes telling Stanford about his nightmare, was it really a nightmare if it was a memory of his, with a joke about his dentures. Stan doesn't know if it didn't land because of the situation or because it was actually bad, he's still refusing to look at Ford, burying his face in Poindexter's fur, feeling so close to dropping, he's teetering over the edge, and so upset about his nightmare. He wishes he never remembered that situation, he could've gone the rest of his life clueless and he would have preferred that. He flinches when he hears Ford get up and sit next to him, is he going to tell Stan what a disappointment he was for getting mixed up in such a bad crowd? Will he sigh and say he should've taken better care of himself? Stan doesn't know, and he's scared to find out.

"Oh, Lee," Ford sighs next to him, a six-fingered hand curling through the strands at the back of Stan's neck, his gentle touches breaking away the last of the dam holding back his tears and pushing him over that edge. He curls into Sixer, clutching his sweater and sobbing, sobbing over how scared he was, how scared he still is, the nightmare's affects lingering throughout the day. He never wants to think about that moment ever again. Stan's finding it hard to breathe his how hard he's crying, coughing harshly every couple of minutes. His brother slaps his back to dislodge his coughs, rocking Stan's body with his own. He sniffles, wiping his face on Sixer's chest, and wraps his arms around him, making their rocking go faster. Stan likes it when his brother rocks him, it's better than his rocking, it calms him down way faster, too. They just rock together for what feels like eternity, he's stopped crying at some point, but he still clutches Sixer, enjoying the touch and the sensations, the nice a comfy warmth he brings. His brother always knows how to chase away his scary feelings and thoughts, he really loves Ford.

Stan panics when he feels Ford pull away, clutching at his sweater and whining, he's so scared he's going to leave him again, Stan doesn't want to be alone, he wants his big brother to hold him and rock him!

"Lee, it's alright, I'm just getting a warm cloth to wipe your face, alright?" Stan just blinks at Ford, not really understanding what he said. He just stands when his twin stands, he doesn't want to be alone, he has to follow Sixer. Stan holds his hand as tight as he can and follows Ford to the bathroom, he cries when the lights get turned on, they hurt his eyes, they're too bright! He flicks them off, rubbing his eyes, they sting and burn even more now. Stan just wants to go and get out of these itchy clothes and cuddle Poindexter, but Ford's got to be in the bathroom for some reason, which means Stan does too, even though he doesn't have to go potty now. He flinches when the cloth touches his face, it's got but it does feel good, Stan hums and lets his brother pat his face with it, lightly rocking on his feet and clutching his stuffy to his chest.

"There we are, the hot water might help soothe some of the irritation in your eyes from crying, but if your eyes start to swell, I've got an ice pack in the freezer if you're amenable to that." Stan doesn't know what Sixer's talking about, his head's too fuzzy to pay attention to all the details and the big words his brother's using. He hums again as Ford smooths his hair back, he loves it when his hair's played with, it makes his body feel just like jelly-or is it jam that jiggles and falls down? Stan doesn't know, but he smiles at Sixer, he's still rocking away, but it feels nice to do, it's a nice rocking, a happy rocking, not a bad and tight tummy rocking. His brother looks, now that his glasses are back on, sad and all frowny, and Stan doesn't like that, so he lets Poindexter hug him, that's sure to cheer him up. Poindexter's hugs always cheer Stan up, why wouldn't they work on Ford.

"A-ah, thank you, Lee and Poindexter, for the hug. I appreciate it very-um very much." Ford rubs the back on his neck, giving the toy a hand armed hug and hesitant tap on it's "back", still unsure about hugging a stuffed animal.

His brother always looks so awkward when he hugs his stuffies, but, and Stan gives him a big hug, too, he looks happier than before, so Stan was right, as always, his friends hugs cheered up Sixer! His brother is the one grabbing his hand this time, walking them to the bedroom, Stan swinging their joined hands together between them for the short walk. "Lee, how about you go pick out some comfortable clothes while I fix the bed up. I'll help you get dressed when you've got them picked out, yes?" Stan understood enough of that to know that Sixer wants him to get some jammies out, he already knows which ones he's going to pick, his absolute favorite pair. He nods and gives a little salute, giggling when Ford tickles his chin, moving his face to escape the tickling but the hand keeps following him until he pushes it away, wanting to get changed. He watched his brother go to his bed, staring at it for some reason, before he goes to his dresser and pulls out his Special Jammy Drawer, the words capitalized to show how special and important this drawer is; it had all his fun and comfy pajamas and socks. Stan doesn't even need to look for his jammies, his favorite pair is right on top. It's a pair of fuzzy brown footies and it has a hood, but even better than the hood is the ears and tail on it, they look like a bears! Now he matches with Poindexter when he's got them on, that's why they're his favorite! Sixer always gets a kick out of it when he roars and rolls around on these, too.

"Have you got your clothes out yet, Lee? I've got the bed all fixed up with your special blankets and special pillows on it. I've even laid out a heating pad, it should be warm enough to feel once you've gotten dressed." Oh boy, Stan's special blankies are his favorites, and he gets a heating pad! He's got an achy back, so he sometimes needs a heating pad if it gets real bad, his special pillows are for his back and neck, too-Sixer likes to say something about "proper support" but Stan just likes how it makes his body feel like he's a giant laying on hills. But his blankets he can't rest without. One is a giant and heavy blankie with dinos on it, but the other is his tip top absolute favorite. It's a big and warm quilt with so many different patches and patterns-Stan added some teddy bears to it himself and they only made it look better-and some nice old lady gave it to him when he was really cold at a shelter once, it was just before he got Poindexter, which means it's also been with him forever and ever and he doesn't know what he'd do without it.

Stan's snapped out of his thought when his brother takes Poindexter out of his arms, Stan cries out and tries to follow him but calms down when Sixer puts him on the bed, right, he needs to get dressed and can't hold his friend to do that. "Steady now, Lee. Hold on to me." Ford always helps him get dressed, scared he'll fall and hurt himself, it's only ever happened one (or thrice or five times), but Stan likes it, it gives him a warm gooey feeling in his chest and tummy, he likes that his big brother wants to take care of him and soothe his ouchies when he gets hurt from falling. "Step in one leg at a time, Lee, we don't want to fall. Left leg in, perfect. Right leg now." Ford's voice is soft, so are his movements, he gently holds and guides Stan, helping him step in the legs of his jammies and threading his hand through the sleeves, zipping him up almost all the way but not to the top, Stan doesn't like things zipped up or buttoned up all the way, it makes it hard to swallow. "There we go," His hood is flipped up, the bear ears sticking out, "one Big Bear ready to lay down and rest easy." Stan does a little "roar" and makes claws with his hands, but he doesn't think it scares Sixer, his brother just laughs and rubs his head, which makes him pout before a tummy poke brings out his ticklish giggles.

"Alright, lets get tucked in to bed now. Ah-" Ford tuts at Stans returning pout, tapping his lips to usher it away, "You don't have to sleep, Lee, but I just want you to lay down in the quiet, okay?" Stan can do laying down, maybe not quiet, but he can 100% lay down in a comfy bed surrounded by Sixer and Poindexter and his blankies. "Perfect, let's get your glasses...alright, let's get you settled, Lee." As Ford tucks him and Poindexter in, Stan wonders if Ford will get in with him if he asked. Is Ford going to stay with Stan? The thought of Ford leaving makes him whimper, clutching his brother's sleeve. He can't leave, Stan needs him here with him! To protect him from any scary dreams or memories or monsters!

"Lee!? What is it what's wrong?" Ford panics, thinking something, another memory perhaps, caused Stanley's panic. His face crumples when all he gets his a whispered and broken "stay" and teary whines, did Stanley think he would leave? After what his memory was about? He gets on his knees, the joints cracking, before he speaks:

"Oh, Lee, I'm not going to leave you. I'm going to stay right here by your side, I always will be by your side, for the rest of our lives. So please, don't cry, I'm not going anywhere." He rests his forehead against Stanley's, one hand holding his, the other grabbing the pacifier he laid on the side table, bringing it up to his brother's mouth-which immediately latched on and began to chew, the repetitive movement obviously soothing, his body goes lax soon after.

Sixer said he'd stay, he always says that and he always stays, so Stan settles back down, chewing on his pacifier and hugging Poindexter, and lets his brother finish tucking him in, the blankets tights around him, the pressure is soothing. He keeps his head turned to face his brother, needing to see him, to make sure he's really going to stay, snuffling when his hair gets soothed back, the hand resting on the top on his head. Stan doesn't feel tired, not sleepy tired at least, but it feels nice to let his body relax against his bed and brother, just letting himself float in his fuzzy headed feelings, not really thinking of anything, just existing.

It felt nice.

[youronebraincell]

Eat your heart out

Sofia Gigante x Fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, romantic fluff, mild smut, oral (r receiving), kitchen sex, kinda short and sweet

Word count: 1200

Sofia can’t sleep. You set out to change that.

You wake up around five in the morning, your phone reading 5:07 when you grab it from the nightstand and narrow your eyes at the lit screen.

You groan and turn to face your girlfriend, only to find her absent, her side of the bed cold and empty.

The smell of freshly baked goods fills your nostrils.

You groan again before getting out of bed in nothing but an oversized tee and panties and following the scent of sweet heaven that leads you to the kitchen. You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the entryway as you watch Sofia pull a baking tray of something out of the oven and put it on the counter. She pulls the mittens off with her teeth and sets them aside. She grabs a sieve with powdered sugar and hits it gently to scatter it over the various croissants laid out in front of her that are on the opposite side of the counter.

“Are you just gonna stand there, honey?” Sofia questions without taking her eyes off the croissants.

You push yourself off the entryway and walk towards her. “Any reason why you’re baking at five in the goddamn morning in nothing but a dirty t-shirt and boxer shorts?” You wrap your arms around her waist from behind, your chin coming to rest on her shoulder. “Not that I’m complaining. Well, only about that first part. The rest is more than tolerable”

“Couldn’t sleep” Sofia says, her eyes still trained on the damn croissants. “You mentioned you’ve been craving croissants so I thought I’d make them for you while my insomnia got the better of me”

You slide your hands under her shirt, embracing the warmth of her body against your palm. You like how Sofia doesn’t mind the cold of your skin.

“Thought you might like something savory too so I also baked a shitload of fucking quiche muffins because apparently that’s a fucking thing”

“Why are you raising your voice?” You ask in an even tone that doesn’t betray a hint of emotion.

Sofia puts the sieve down. She grips the edge of the counter as she takes a breath. Then another. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just..” She pauses to focus on her breathing. “With everything going on with that dickless traitor Oz and the Triad, it’s kinda hard for me to focus on anything else”

“Gee, thanks”

“Anything other than you” Sofia adds before turning around to face you. She cups your jaw with her hand, her other settling on your hip. “I swear, you’re the only saving grace in this whole situation, Y/N”

You hum, taking in the dark circles under her eyes. The pads of your thumbs trace them. “When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

Sofia averts her gaze, her eyes downcast.

“Jesus, Sof. How are you still standing?”

“With a little help from the best energy drinks money can buy. That and a lotta rage”

You huff a laugh. “Don’t be cute. I told you to take care of yourself. Or at least let me do it for you”

“I’m fine”

“No, you’re not. You need to get some sleep”

An imaginary lightbulb lights up above your head.

You grin. “And I know just the right way to help”

You hop onto the counter.

Sofia raises a brow. Her eyes drift to the space between your thighs when you part your legs, revealing the lace panties she got you for your birthday. Her eyes don’t leave them as you slowly take them off and toss them on the floor.

You cross your legs.

“You always say you get drunk off me” You playfully tilt your head as you stare at her. “So maybe I can help you get that sleep you so desperately need”

“Your solution for my insomnia is for me to eat you out? Is that it?” Still, Sofia walks over to you. Her hands grips your waist. “If you wanted me to fuck you, you could’ve just asked, baby”

“Right now, I’m not asking”

The corner of your girlfriend’s mouth tugs upwards at your low, demanding tone. “Yes, ma’am”

Sofia eats you out for what feels like hours.

Her tongue darts and swirls, painting delicate patterns over your clit. You're already lost in the sea of pleasure, your breaths coming in gasps and moans. Each touch feels like a spark, igniting a fire deep within you. Your body arches off the counter, muscles taut as you chase the next wave of ecstasy. Sofia’s eyes are closed, lost in her own world, but her mouth is all focus. She's a maestro playing the most sensitive of instruments, and you're the music that fills the room.

Your legs tremble uncontrollably. You grip the edge of the counter, your knuckles whitening. The scent of your arousal fills the air, mingling with the faint smell of baked goods and sweat from your exertion. You've had so many orgasms, you've lost count, but she doesn't stop. Each stroke of her tongue sends you spiraling closer to the edge, and yet she pulls back, just enough to keep you there, teetering. It’s what you love about her.

You feel the tension building, your thighs quivering around her head. Your heart races, your pulse thundering in your ears. She senses your desperation and doubles down, her tongue relentless, her hands gripping your thighs. The pressure builds, a crescendo of sensation that you know will shatter you into a million pieces. You're so close, so close, you can almost taste it.

And then she does something different, a flick of her tongue, a change in rhythm. It sends you over the edge, your body convulsing as you scream out your release. But even as your climax washes over you, she doesn't let up. She continues, driving you into a realm of overstimulation, where pleasure meets pain and you're not sure if you can handle it. Yet, you find yourself begging for more, your voice hoarse from the cries that have escaped your lips. Her eyes open, meeting yours, and she smiles, knowing she has you exactly where she wants you.

But even Sofia has her limits.

By the time she’s decided that she’s done with you, she looks ready to hit the bed. You look at her as you try to catch your breath, your chest heaving.

Sofia smiles and cups your face before kissing you, passionately. “Thank you, bella” She says after breaking the kiss. “This is exactly what I needed”

“Glad I could be of service to ya”

“Are you coming to bed?”

You shake your head as you hop off the counter and grab your panties. “I’m gonna take a shower”

Sofia walks away from you. “Okay”

“Sleep tight!”

She shoots you a sleepy thumbs up without turning around before disappearing from your sight.

Just as you told her, you brush your teeth and take a shower then get dressed in something nice and comfy since you have no plans to leave the house.

You sit cross-legged on the couch, watching some new medical sitcom while eating the delicious croissants and quiche your girlfriend made for you.

[ihfmseatsoch]

Thinking about Dad!Curly... the guilt he'd feel for being the exact kind of creep he's tried to hard to protect you from...

(warnings: incest, smut, somno, noncon. fem!reader)

You'd always been the apple of his eye, his pride and joy. He'd constantly brag about you to everyone, and whether they were annoyed by it or not, it didn't matter. He was proud of you, loved you more than anything else. He needed to shout it from the rooftops. Maybe he spoiled you a little too rotten, half the gifts he'd wrap on Christmas going to you instead of extended family. He'd go overboard on birthdays, let you use his credit card for anything you liked. Even if you insisted you were just window shopping, he'd buy whatever you were eyeing behind your back and surprise you with it.

In his eyes, you deserved it for just existing, giving his life purpose when it felt empty. You're the only thing that's ever made him feel whole.

He mistook the way his eyes would linger on you for too long, or the way he'd keep thinking of you long after you went to bed, as that same paternal affection he's always felt. It couldn't possibly be anything else. At least, that's what he tried so hard to believe.

Raising you has been the most time, energy, and money he's ever dedicated himself to. He was just being the best father he could be; it wasn't anything unusual or wrong of him to be so attached. You were his daughter, after all, and for that reason, he never let himself wonder or question why he was so obsessive over you.

He brushed aside any impure thoughts or desires as nothing more than intrusive. He wasn't that kind of guy. He told himself that it was just his protectiveness, just a father caring for his daughter. Nothing more, nothing less. Just protecting you, keeping you safe and sound. He'd never be tempted to be a monster like that. That'd be wrong. Sick. Vile, and inexcusable.

But god, were you beautiful. His perfect little girl whom he adored so deeply... everything about you, it was like you were made of angel dust.

He tried so hard to stop himself from feeling anything other than fatherly love. He swears he did, but he was so drawn to you. You were irresistible, so goddamn tempting in those cute little clothes he bought you. Maybe he was a little bit selfish with the gifts he picked out for you, subconsciously wanting to admire your body in a short skirt that fit you just right.

Curly eventually hit his breaking point with the internal conflict running through his mind day after day. He'd prove to himself that he would never do anything to hurt you. At his wits end, he snuck into your room while you were asleep, challenging himself to look at you in a way that wasn't pent up lust. He could do it, he was sure. He was a good father, not a sick, perverted monster.

Your body was only covered halfway with your blanket, one of your legs sticking out, nearly bare if it wasn't for your pajama shorts. God, why did he feel so warm in the pit of his gut? He's just looking at you.

It's like his body and mind were on autopilot as he sat down on the edge of your bed. He doesn't know why he reached his hand over to your thigh, breath stuttering as he indulged in what he's been holding back from for so long. Curly's large hands wander, fondling every inch of skin he could grope. Your tits, hips... he even allowed himself to feel your cunt through the fabric of your clothes.

You squirmed in your sleep when his fingers brushed against your clit, causing his blood to run cold in fear. You couldn't see him like this. You couldn't ever find out what he was doing to you. You'd never forgive him. Hell, he can hardly forgive himself right now, but it's so hard to think clearly when his cock is throbbing for you, twitching in his pants, so eager for any kind of friction against you.

He positions himself so he's hunched over your sleeping form. You're so blissfully unaware of how disgusting your father is, grinding his hard-on against your clothed pussy, convincing himself it's marginally less wrong if he doesn't actually put it inside of you, but that thought is growing more enticing by the second. Curly struggles to hold back his groans of pleasure, getting off on the sheer thrill of it all, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

You begin to stir, your father getting too carried away to think about the possibility of waking you up. When you blink your eyes open, he halts immediately. Fuck, what is he doing? He feels nauseous.

"Dad...?" You mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes so your vision can focus on your father, looming over you with the most terrified expression you've ever seen on his face.

"I– I'm sorry, fuck, I'm sorry... I don't know what's wrong with me, I–" Curly stammers, mortified with himself, yet he doesn't move away. He can't. It feels too good. You feel way too fucking good for him to stop. You're delirious from sleep, and he'd hate to lie to you, but...

"...I–It's okay, honey. Go back to sleep." Against his better judgement, he finds himself cooing to you, petting your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch is so comforting, and you're already so, so sleepy... your eyes droop closed once again, your brain unable to register his fingers looping around the hem of your shorts, pulling them down.

"That's it, sweet pea. Daddy's got you." He nearly moans aloud at the sight of your cunt. Untouched by any man, other than him. He'd rather die than allow an immature boy your age take your virginity. They wouldn't know how to take care of you. Curly does. He always has, and he always will.

This is how he rationalizes the situation in his head as he slowly slips himself into your hole. He's relieved that you're already wet for him, making it an easy insertion. He'd never want to hurt you.

The slick drag of your walls, squeezing so tight around his cock, makes him involuntary let out a deep, throaty groan from deep in his chest. He knows he's... well endowed, so he goes slow. Easing you open, savoring this moment as long as he can.

The slick drag of your walls, squeezing so tight around his cock, makes him involuntary let out a throaty groan from deep inside his chest. He knows he's... well endowed, so he goes slow. Easing you open, savoring this moment as long as he can.

"Sh– Shit, sweetheart, you feel so–" he grunts, inching himself halfway in, "–Fucking good. So good for dad, baby."

He's not directly speaking to you, as you've already drifted off back into a peaceful slumber. Curly's just always been very vocal, especially with his praise for you. He doesn't need to hold back even if you're not actually listening.

He thrusts slowly, being so gentle with you. You're delicate to him, his fragile girl that he needs to devote himself to keeping safe. An ironic mindset, considering the position he's in.

Even if you never know it, your dad was your first. This is the best case scenario in his eyes. No one else will touch you with their filthy hands. No one else could fuck you like he does, with the amount of care and love he has for you.

"Daddy loves you," He babbles as he feels himself getting close, his hips stuttering as he goes a little faster, just so he can finish quickly, "God, I love you so much, honey."

Curly pulls out when he cums, for what it's worth. He even wipes his cum off your stomach, cleans between your legs with a warm rag, and slips your shorts back on for you. And of course, he doesn't leave your room without leaving a kiss on your cheek.

He's so thoughtful! ☺️

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 16)

DESCRIPTION: You and your husband both struggle to go back to sleep after your son wakes you up

A/N: I wrote this part ages ago and I am aware that it is slightly out of character for both Tommy and Flo but also it was just too cute not to keep!

WORD COUNT: 4099

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: Smoking, children, jokes about murder, use of 'sir' in both sexual and non sexual way, mildy ooc Tommy, slight declaration of feelings but not really, smut, swearing, fingering, p in v, choking, brief praise, overstimulation (f receiving), creampie, aftercare, soft dom Tommy, sub reader

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

It was the very early hours of Christmas Eve Eve. The 23rd of December 1922. You hear the distant cry of Charlie. Letting out a soft mumble as you get up. Unsure of the time. Hoping his cries might falter but two minutes pass and he's still wailing at the top of his lungs. You swing your legs out the bed. Sleepily walking along the corridor. Going and creaking the door quietly open before walking into his room. You smile at him. “Hey there little man”. You pick up the crying boy. Popping him onto your hip. Hushing him as you start to sing softly. Not anything in particular. More just your thoughts in a musical manner.

Thankfully it works as he drifts back off to sleep. You place him back down into his crib. Silently going back along to bed. Climbing in next to your sleeping husband. Turning your back as you try and let sleep back into your mind.

“Is he ok?” You hear Thomas speak softly next to you. You hum in agreement. Turning so you face him. His head turned towards you as his body lay flat on the bed. You bring your hands up. Tucking them both under your cheek as you look at him.

“I think he had a bad dream and just needed comforting. He’s gone back to sleep now”. He nods. Quiet fills the room. “Tom?” You whisper his name.

“Mhmm?”

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if you were asleep yet or not”. Silence filling the room once again. You shut your eyes. Trying to will yourself to sleep. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. 20. 40. You let out an annoyed huff as you hear the grandfather clock downstairs chime. You'd been trying to sleep for an hour and have had no luck.

“Can't sleep either love?” You look at Thomas. His eyes remain closed as you nod.

“I've been trying but my stupid brain wont shut off”. He opens his eyes. Sitting up. The blanket falling from his bare torso and going around his waist. He leans over. Lighting the oil lamp by the edge of his bed. Going into the top drawer by his bed. He pulls out a pack of cards. You sit up. Crossing your legs as you bring the blanket over the top of them. Your nightdress covering your torso. Watching as he shuffles. He starts dealing out the cards.

“We used to play this during France”. Once he'd laid out the cards he goes back into the top drawer. Taking out a pack of cigarettes. Taking one out he places it at the top of the cards. Putting the pack back on top of the bedside table. “Everyone would put in one cigarette. Whoever won would keep the bunch”.

“What game is it?”

“Solitaire. Do you know how to play?” You nod. He motions his hand towards you. A gesture indicating for you to start. You proceed in picking up the relevant cards. Talking as you play.

“I used to play with my dad when I was younger”. You flip over various cards. Chatting as you take it in turns. “I was so shit”

“He never let you win?”

“Oh no. He believed that a child should always earn their win. That you should never just give them it. So I lost every single time”. You smile. Glancing at him briefly before refocusing on the cards. “I was 9 when I managed to beat him. The look he gave me was priceless. I'd pay good money to re-see that look on his face”. Your smile softens. “He'd be proud of me”

“What for?”

“The fact I've just won”. You place the cards in the correct places. Finishing off the sets as you gleefully smile at him. Causing him to laugh.

“You sly woman”. You look at him and cheekily smile. Picking up the cigarette and placing it into your mouth unlit.

“Best out of three?” you speak with it hanging on your lip. Picking up the cards and starting to shuffle. Dealing them out. He grabs out another cigarette. Reaching into the drawer once again. Taking out some matches. Striking one of them. You lean forward. Letting him light the end for you before he lights his own. Wafting the lit match in a quick motion to put out the flame. He places the rest of the pack at the top of the bed.

“Winner gets the rest of the pack”

“You do spoil me Mr Shelby”. He smiles. Taking out the smoke from his lips. The two of you playing quieter as you both concentrate. The sound of cards moving and the air being filled with smoke as the night goes on. He smiles as he wins the second round. Holding what's left of the stick in one hand as he picks the cards up. Placing it back into his mouth as he deals them out. Snubbing his smoke next to the one you'd discarded a while ago.

Only a few cards remain unturned. You bite at your bottom lip. Shaking your head as you turn the next card over. Scanning over the remaining few quickly. “You're turn”. He moves a couple of cards. Turning over the next one. Smiling as he proceeds to turn over the rest and complete the four sets. Winning. You let out an annoyed groan. “Well done”. His eyes come up to look at you. Smiling as your gaze meets his.

“You are a good player. You're dad taught you well”. You scratch the back of your head. Smiling at the notion.

“We should be sleeping”. You pick up the card.

“Are you tired?”

“No. But we should at least try. Your brothers and Ada are coming round tomorrow evening and I haven't even started on the house yet. I'm so behind with everything and I don't even know how” You start shuffling the deck. Looking towards him as you shuffle. "What time are they coming?"

“Midday. With Polly”

“I thought Polly was coming Christmas eve?” He nods. Picking up the pack of cigerettes and placing them back onto his night table. You watch him. “Thomas?”

“She felt left out of the family gathering. She doesn't understand why her niece and nephews get to be here and she can't be”

“The main reason for that being because your brothers and sister don't hate me"

"Polly doesn't hate you"

"You're right. She doesn't hate me. She despises me and my very existence" he lets out a soft chuckle. "I'm surprised she hasn’t killed me yet”.

“She won't kill you”

“I saw her digging a hole a couple of weeks ago. I'm sure she's planning of disposing my body into it”. He tries not to laugh. Running his thumb over his bottom lip as he smiles at you. “Its not funny” you say. A smile creeping onto your lips. “Is she bringing her son?” He nods. Leaning backwards as he watches you. Head resting against the headboard of the bed.

“Even though she really doesn’t want him around us”

“Why? I thought she'd be happy to have her two families mixing”

“She wants Michael to stay a child. A good boy that she can mother. If he hangs around us for to long then he’ll become corrupted. Or that's what she's worried about”. His eyes flick down. Watching the cards in your hands. “I think they're shuffled enough”. You smile. Scooting forward slightly as you lean towards him. Kneeling upwards. Fanning the deck out.

“Pick a card”. You looks at you. Amusement in his eyes as he tries not to smile. “Come on. You know you want to”. You smile at him. Eyes going to the cards before back to his. He sighs. Leaning forward again. He picks a card. You look away slightly as you push the cards back to form a deck. “Look at it. Once you’ve memorised it put it back into the deck”. You hold the cards towards him. Feeling him push the item back into the pack. You look back. Looking at him. “Hmm”. You go closer to him. Straddling the ends of his legs as you lean towards him slightly. Amusement on his lips as his eyes remain unmoving. You squint at him. Over emphasizing the trick. You shake your head.

“You're good at keeping a poker face”. You lean backwards again. Taking out the two jokers left inside the packet. Holding them both up in one hand. “Luckily I have some help”. You place one on top. The other on the bottom. Both facing upwards. “These two are going to help me find your card”. His eyes go down. Holding the pack top and bottom with your thumb and middle finger. Holding it semi tightly as you chuck 51 cards into the other hand. Three cards remaining in your right. The two jokers facing upwards as one remains face down.

You place them onto the bed. The deck of cards next to it. Joker either side of the still unseen card. “Do you remember your card?” He nods. “What was your card good sir?”

“Eight of hearts”. You take the bottom of the card. Turning it. His amused look turning into a full smile as his card sits between the two jokers. Eyes going back up to yours as you neatly place the card back on top of the deck. “How did you learn to do magic?”

“My mum-" you correct yourself "step mum taught me. She was very magical in herself. She would show me and my sisters magic tricks all the time. Not just card ones either. She could make coins disappear”

“Coins disappear?” You nod. Smiling at him. Taking off your wedding ring.

“I have the ring in my hand – she would use a coin though”. You swiftly move. Keeping your hands up as it vanishes from your grip. He furrows his brow. Genuinely bewildered. His eyes looking over every surface he can see near you. Your smile grows as you bring your hand up. ‘Finding’ the item in his ear. Pulling your hand back as you hold it between your fingers. His face grows with a mixture of emotions. “I told you. I'm magic”. You wiggle your eyebrows at him. He laughs softly. Watching as you put the ring back onto your finger. “She would call it ‘Moneda Fantasma’. Translates to Phantom Coin. But it sounds cooler in Spanish”. He smiles. Nodding in agreement.

“Do you have any other tricks?”

“Of course”

“Show me”. You pick up the pack of cards. Putting the jokers to the side. Shuffling once again. Fanning them out. He takes a card. Looking at it. You move the deck closer to him. He puts the card back in.

“Would you be so kind to shuffle for me?” You hold the deck towards him. He takes them. Sitting up more as he shuffles. Passing them back to you once they’ve been shuffled. You take them. Placing them onto his lap. “Because it did so well last time” Flipping over the top card of the deck. The eight of hearts again. “He's going to help us find your card this time”. You turn the card back over. “We give him some time to search for you card before we ask him back to the top of the deck”. You tap the deck three times before turning the top card. Queen of spades. “Is this your card?” He nods again. Smiling as you pick the cards up. Placing them onto his side table. “Can you do any parlous tricks?”

“I can read peoples minds”. You raise your brow. You shuffle closer. Now sitting just below his knees. Causing him to smile.

“Show me. Please”. He rubs the gap between his eyebrows. Picking up the cards. His turn to fan them out. You pick up a card. Nine of diamonds. You put both your hands over it as you hold it close to your chest. You watch as he places the deck of cards back onto his side table. He leans closer to you. His hands resting gently onto your thighs as he keeps heavy eye contact with you. You try and remain deadpan as you look into his eyes. The soft blue digging into your core.

“It’s a high number… Not quite a royal but not far off of one”. He pauses. “No. Not quite a ten. I'd say a eight or nine though. Now is it a red or a black?” Pauses again. A soft sigh of air escaping him. “Is it the nine of diamonds?” Your jaw drops. Turning the card to face him. His eyes looking down as a smile comes over his lips. Looking back up at you. “Told you I could read minds”. You shake your head.

“How the hell do you do that?”

“Magic” he smiles. His eyes widen as he says the word. Causing you to smile as you cock your head. He smiles too. You lean over him. Placing your card onto the top of the deck. Holding onto his shoulder as you lean to keep balance. Sitting back up straight you lean back onto your heals. Still straddling his legs as his hands remain on you. You yawn. Covering your mouth with both hands as your eyes screw shut. Lifting your arms up as you stretch. He watches you. Eyes fixed on your features as you bring your hands down.

Feeling his hand move. Going to the back of your neck. Pulling you into him as his lips meet yours. You let out a satisfied hum into the kiss. Your hands going up as you cradle his face between your palms. His other hand moves from your thigh. Going to your lower back as he pulls you fully onto his lap. You chest pressed firmly against his.

His hand from the back of your neck move downwards. Trailing down the length of your spine. Slotting itself between your shoulder blades as he holds you flush against him. Moving your hands to wrap around his shoulders. Pulling away slightly. Faces no more then an inch away from each other. He moves his hand from your spine. Bringing it down. Lifting up the end of your silk nightdress. Letting it pool around your waist. Your eyes fixated onto his as he looks up at you. Moving one of your hands from around him to move down. Holding the clothing up as his fingers move delicately across the skin.

A small whine leaves your lips as he traces his finger over your clit. A faint smile coming over his face as he starts making small circles onto the nub. Your hand gripping the fabric as the other digs into the flesh of his shoulder. Imprinting your nails into the skin. You lull your head to the side. Your mouth parting as soft moans leave your lips. Fluttering your eyes shut. Feeling the ecstasy building inside of you. His hand moving on your core. Feeling him push a digit into your cunt.

“Fuck”. You breath out the cuss. Your hands go to the back of his neck. Tilting your head back. He kisses your throat. Curling his fingers inside of you as his thumb works on your clit. Your pussy fluttering around him. You let out a broken moan. Putting your head forward as you capture his lips with yours. Kissing him as your high begins to build. He brings his hand from your hip to the back of your neck. Holding it as your lips mould together. His fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge. "Please. Please sir". You murmur against his lips. Feeling him smiling against your skin. Feeling his eyes watching you as you come undone onto his fingers. A slow yet intense orgasm filling your body. He continues moving inside of you. Helping you ride out the high before he removes the digits. Kissing your neck again. Moving the strap of your dress off of your shoulder.

“Tommy?” Your voice quiet against the still room. He moves. Eyes able to watch yours. You feel your cheeks reddening at the unasked question.

“I-I-” You stutter out the words. Your voice going into an even quieter whisper before you speak. Eyes falling to his shoulder. "Can you... make love to me... please...". Your voice so small as those words hit his ears. Eyes glancing back up. His features remain soft as he looks at you. Not saying a word. You'd have thought that after two years of marriage you could read him better. Your cheeks go a darker shade of crimson. Shit. Why did you have to say that? Why couldn’t you have been a normal person and just said ‘put your cock in me’ or ‘I want to fuck’. Worried you'd ruined the moment with your question you look down fully. Shaking your head slightly.

“Shit" you mutter. "I'm sorry” you whisper an apology. Shaking your head. Silently cursing at yourself. Going to move off of his lap. His hands move to your hips. Gripping them. Holding you in place as he senses you movements. He stays silent. Not making a sound as he pulls you upwards. You reposition your hands onto his shoulders. Moving your legs so you're straddling him more. An arm moves around your hips. Holding you close as the other releases himself from his confines. Feeling him line the tip to your entrance. Letting you slowly sink down onto him.

A loud moan leaving your lips as he fills you. His hands go to the bottom of your night dress. Pulling the item up and over your body. Tossing it to the side. His hands run over your body. Fingers rough compared to the sweet touch of the pads dancing over your skin. Crossing your stomach. Over your chest. Down your arms. Worshiping your every curve. His eyes staying on yours. One hand going to your lower back. The other to your hip. Gently starting to move you. A slow yet intimate pace as you feel him fitting so perfectly inside of you.

He leans forward. Lips capturing yours. Your hand goes to his cheek. The other remaining on his shoulder. Your delicate noises being lost into the kiss. His hand moves from your hip. Finding where the two of your meet. Using his middle finger to rub small circles onto your clit.

“Shit”. You mutter. Moving your head into his shoulder. His hand moves from your back. Hips and fingers still working as he tenderly takes your jaw. Moving your head from his shoulder. Moving down to rest around your throat. No pressure against it. Just resting. Holding you there.

“Keep your eyes on me”. You nod. Meeting his ocean eyes. A blush creeping across your face as you keep eye contact with him. His face smiles as he watches you. The hand that was on his cheek goes to his wrist. Holding it close to you as he keeps you watching him. Feeling your high building up once again. His work inside of you plus his fingers making your orgasm build up quickly. You fight to keep your eyes on him. The adorable determined expression on your face causing him to smile. Leaning forward as he kisses you.

“Cum for me sweetheart. Let me feel you”. You let out a stifled moan. Eyes rolling back as you grind against him a couple more times. Letting the action push your orgasm over the edge. Your hands gripping onto him. Legs pushing together. “Good girl”. He coos. The praise going straight to your core. Causing you to let out a mild whine. He kisses you again. Hand still wrapped around your throat as he keeps your entire body from collapsing. Body trembling as he continues his work on your stimulated cunt.

“Please. Please Thomas”

“Just a little longer” he grunts. His gaze going down to where you two meet. “Fuck”. He mutters. His hand tightens around your throat. Feeling the bluntness of his nails digging into the skin. His hand moves from your cunt. Gripping at the flesh of your thigh. A grunt escapes his lips. Stilling your body as he cums. His seed spilling into you. You smile at the feeling. Eyes rolling into your head as you give out a satisfied moan. You gently grind against him. Helping him ride out his high. He leans back onto the headboard. Breathing deeply as he watches you. His hand falling from your throat to your leg. Resting onto it. His fingers gently dancing onto the bare skin.

 “Ok… I'm tired again now”. You open your eyes. Sleepily smiling at him. He lets out a soft chuckle as you muster up the energy to move off of his lap. You let out a soft groan. Lifting yourself off of him. Sitting next to him. He continues watching you. You push your legs together as you start to feel his seed come out of your hole. He notices your mild discomfort. Adjusting his underwear. Putting himself away before he stands up. Grabbing a small hand towel. Coming and sitting back next to you. You go to take it from him but he just shakes his head.

“Lie down”. He speaks. Voice demanding yet soft. You take a few seconds to process his words but you do as he asks. His hands gently parting your legs as he wipes the juices from between your legs. You watch the feared and dangerous gangsta care for your body. A small smile coming over your feature. Quickly shaking the warm and fuzzy feeling.

Once he's cleaned you up he gets under the covers. Covering your naked frame with them. He grabs out a cigarette. Lighting the end of it. He remains sat up as you watch his face. Leaning his head back as he looks towards the ceiling. Removing the stick as he exhales. You bring a hand out. Motioning at the item. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I won this”. He looks at you and smiles. You playfully glare at him as he draws a drag from it. Bringing it down. Letting you take it from his grip. Taking a puff of it. Retracting it from your lips as you place it back into his hand. Breathing the smoke out as you talk.

“God I'm going to miss the silence tomorrow with everyone here”. He nods. Cigarette resting between his index and middle finger.

“What time are your sisters coming?”

“Elizabeth has told me she's seeing someone in the morning so she’ll come round in the afternoon”. You turn to face him. Rolling your body. Moving the bed covers to make yourself decent as you rest your cheek onto your hands. “I think she's seeing a male acquaintance”

“Yeah?” You nod.

“She's been sneaking off a lot recently. Plus she doesn’t come round as often”

“Maybe she's just getting older?”

“Maybe…” you run your thumb over your lips as you think. “I think she's seeing one of your Peaky men”

“What makes you think that?” He looks at you. Amusement on his features at your theorising.

“I don’t know. I just think she is”

“Which one?”

“Edward. The younger one who delivered our groceries whilst we were at the safe house”. He nods. Pushing his lips together as he draws another drag. “He comes round here a lot more often then any of the others. Especially when my sister is here”. You rub your face with your hand. Shrugging. “I might be wrong though”

“Have you ever been wrong about your theories?”

“Once I thought someone was having an affair. Tried blackmailing her. Turns out she just had a new dog but her husband was allergic so she kept it a secret”. He laughs. “It made for a very awkward family meal”. You yawn. Covering your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You should get some rest”. You nod. Noticing his unmoving nature as he takes another draw from his cigarette. Hesitating a moment before reaching your hand out. Gently placing your hand on his wrist. Rubbing your thumb over the veins.

“You should sleep too”. His eyes glance to the affection. Moving he snuffs out the cigarette. You retract your hand. Placing it back to rest under your cheek. Watching as he puts the lamp out beside him. Going further under the covers. The bed covers come halfway up his torso. His arm going up and resting behind his head. Shutting your eyes as his breathing starts to deepen. Letting sleep take over you both.

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TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin @kkrenae @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @frozenhuntress67 @sagemastah @meadows58

[schrodingersauthorii]

My WIP is currently called 'Shiki Matoba' or 'Came Back Wrong AU,' but I should really call it 'the situation specifically designed in a in a lab to give every single character an ongoing ethics crisis.'

Oh, Hiragi becoming Natori's shiki makes you uncomfortable, Natsume? You hate it when yokai eat each other? Even if it's natural?

Well tough: in this AU, Natori fucked up and turned Matoba into an ayakashi, and he's Natori's shiki now. And he has to eat either human blood or other ayakashi to live. His old clan is also constantly trying to kidnap him, but he swears he's not upset with them OR Natori.

Natori - you had qualms about working with the Matoba clan? Too bad: Matoba nearly died because of YOUR attempted murder, and you're the only one who can maintain your flubbed healing spell to keep him alive. As an ayakashi, now bound to a family no sane yokai will make a contract with.

Speaking of the Matoba family: how are things with the new shiki? The one with internalized ayakashi-ism and undying loyalty?

For bonus points: the eye stealing yokai will accept an eye from the Matoba clan head's personal shiki as payment. So Matoba can have some guilt over choosing the clan and his father's wishes over his father's health and life. As a treat.

And potentially every clan head after can have the temptation of a way to save their own skin at the cost of the clan's power.

Aaaand now Matoba's father's dead, and Matoba's refusing to become the new clan head's (not Shinoubu) shiki for *totally irrational ayakashi reasons* he swears. He just had an oopsie 'accidentally psychically manipulate your only healer/ confessed hopeless crush/ rival clans member into making a contract with you in a blind panic' moment for no reason.

The entire Matoba clan gets a moral quagmire there: the new clan head is a little sus, but ayakashi ARE irrational and their special little ayakashi was really upset about Shinobou being passed over for clan head. Is it really okay to leave him unsupervised with his only healer/ confessed hopeless crush/ rival clans member?

But also, they need Natori to keep him alive. So they can't take the nuclear option, or even cut him off and risk any of their enemies killing him either. Surely gently kidnapping Matoba and "helping him come to his senses" is the best option here- they can burn the clan head bridge if they need to after he's home. (Opinions on the necessity, practicality, and greater good of the last part vary. Civil war is a distinct possibility.)

Meanwhile: Matoba wrestles with the guilt of forcing Natori to give him his blood to eat when there's a secret third option he's just being an *irrational ayakashi* about.

Hiragi, Urihime, and Sasago have background ick about the inappropriate master/ shiki behavior (Urihime and Sasago more than Hiragi, though even she finds the literal just sleeping together weird.)

Takuma has STRONG FEELINGS about letting the little shit turned ayakashi who *psychically manipulated his mentee into a giant clusterfuck* into his house. But he also doesn't have any better ideas, and isn't about to cut off his formal apprentice (mandated after the healing spell fiasco.)

Yorishima has NO INTEREST and NO RESPONSIBILITY in helping resolve any of this mess, thank you very much. Even if he has some unique insight into complicated human-ayakashi healing.

I'm softballing Tanuma- he gets to have his cute lil teenage friend worries about being curious when Natsume's very firmly steering him away from ever knowing WTF's going on with Natori and his really friendly shiki.

Nishimura, like. Feels really conflicted about his *dead certainty* that his favorite idol and the idol's chronically ill friend are a couple. They say they're just friends- is it an invasion of their privacy to insist otherwise? Is he minimizing the depths of male friendship by insisting there must be more?

(The universe is testing Kitamoto's patience, not his morality, with Nishimura's fandom nonsense.)

I go by manga timeline, so Sasada is Sir Not Appearing In This Book, the canon divergence blissfully parting around her.

Taki's deal is still percolating- I have to do *something* with her two degrees of separation from the Matoba clan, but I don't know what.

I don't think Nyanko-sensei's getting any extra *ethical* issues- he doesn't care that much about ethics in the first place. Just external pressure to become Natsume's formal shiki since the exorcist community isn't as blasé about powerful, self-taught kids after The Fuck Up.

I'm fighting the "why do the Fujiwara's let their 15 yo relative stay overnight with a 23 yo idol?" angle kicking and screaming, but its gravitational pull is starting to look inescapable. Matoba became undead an ayakashi at 18, if he's strong enough to have a human form (which. ofc he is) there are going to be QUESTIONS about why he's living with an idol who looks five years older than him.

(Yes, Matoba has a driver's license stating he is 22- no it doesn't help with the scrutiny. There is just some inevitable speculation and conclusions about the chronically ill NEET who never uses his last name due to "family issues" who lives with the idol who got PTSD from saving his life.)

I actually do have an ending in mind, though I'm going to let canon developments lead the way.

OC Matoba clan head eventually dies "naturally," as Matoba clan heads do, and Shinoubu takes over.

This leads to a shakeup regarding prejudice against "weak" exorcists. (You don't need spiritual powers to politic, or very much to dodge a giant blob and open an umbrella. She IS a little evil (pending contradiction by further developments in canon), but hardly the worst.) Someone points out the "eye of the Matoba clan head's shiki" loophole due to this lack of trust, and the Matoba clan approves the "loan" of a shiki to the now closely-associated Natori clan.

Yorishima's expertise does bear fruit, so Matoba is expected to eventually fully recover. (But remain an ayakashi.) In Matoba's POV, this is the happy ending- he gets to live with Natori for the rest of Natori's life, and he has a formal way to escape future conflict with the grab-bag of Matoba clan heads.

But he's getting stronger- able to maintain his human form for longer, and make more changes to it.

So Shuuichi suggests leaving the industry- taking his still active identity, and living as a human. To not be anyone's shiki.

(Natori CANNOT have a romantic relationship with a subordinate. Nope, nope, nope. Absolutely not. Especially after their specific experiences. But just being an ayakashi isn't a deal breaker.

However, his world view values freedom and independence, so he'd suggest the idea anyways.)

(Matoba might not be able to return to the clan after a disavowal of that magnitude. The clan will definitely never trust him again.)

There'd be an epilogue from Natsume's POV revealing Matoba's decision, directly echoing whatever the canon ending of Natsume's Book of Friends does.

[stellamancer]

notes: hello and welcome to an episode of wips I'll never finish!! mentioned this a little earlier tonight and well here we are.

contains: gojo + reader, non-explicit sexual themes (discussion of sex and an all but implied extremely sexually active reader), the usual banter, gojo is a loser.

You stare down at the curse writhing beneath you and dig your heel into its flesh. It's a little unnecessary at this point but you don't care. The curse squeals, as if begging for mercy, but you ignore it and exorcise it completely. Dark purple blood splatters all over the place and you grimace as it gets on you. Gross.

"Bad lay last night?" Gojo asks. You look up at him as you wipe your hands and you can see one of his eyebrows lift behind the material of his blindfold.

You give him a wry smile. "That obvious?"

"No, but you were maybe just a little more aggressive than usual," he says and you hum. Didn't think he'd notice. "Thought I might be next on the list."

That makes you snort. "I couldn't exorcise you if I tried."

"Aw, I knew you loved me."

You roll your eyes. That's not what you said but Gojo's selective hearing is nothing new. Mission complete, you start to leave the room and Gojo follows.

"Soooo," he says conversationally. "What was the problem this time? No stamina? Blow his load early? So small you couldn't tell it was there?"

"No..." you answer. "He was actually pretty big just..."

"Ahh, I see," Gojo interjects and you see him nod his head sagely. "One of those that thinks size makes up for lack of technique."

"Unfortunately."

It's probably weird for you talk about your sex life to one of your coworkers with this amount of ease and, honestly, you can't imagine having this conversation with any of them (save for Shoko who is more friend than coworker) but Gojo is, and always has been, a weirdo. He's well aware of your... activities off the clock, and while he's way more curious about the finer details than most, he doesn't seem to judge you for it.

Unlike Shoko. But she can't say much when she's been unable to fully swear off smoking.

"Didn't save his number then?"

"Absolutely not," you snap and Gojo just laughs. Most of your encounters are just one night stands, but there are a rare few whose numbers you've saved, though you're reluctant to contact any of them more than a few times. The last thing you want is for any legitimate attraction to grow between you. It's better that way— for everyone involved.

"So, when are you going to give me a shot, huh?" Gojo asks and you stop walking, taken aback by his sudden proposition. "I'd be the best you've ever had, promise."

"No thanks." You answer automatically. Honestly, you've never thought about it; doesn't seem like a good idea to sleep with your coworkers.

"Ouch. Shot down just like that?" Gojo's tone is light, playful. You doubt he expected you to say yes in the first place. "You're pretty heartless, you know that?"

"Sometimes you have to be, especially in this profession."

This earns you another laugh from Gojo, "It's okay, I get it: you're just not ready for me to blow your mind yet."

"You're delusional," you say flatly.

He ignores you and continues. "Not that I can blame you. Once you have me, there's no way anyone else will ever compare."

You roll your eyes. Cocky for someone who obviously doesn't entertain the thought of being with anyone else sexually, or even romantically for that matter. Gojo talks a big game, but you wouldn't be surprised if he was actually unconfident in the bedroom. Actually, you think you'd like to see that.

Not that you'd say that to his face.

"Gojo."

"Yessss?" His tone makes you wonder if he thinks you've reconsidered.

Too bad for him.

"You're delusional," you repeat, smiling just a little.

[souenkun]

Pokémon Masters EX spoilers ahead!

Kabu likes to play TAG with his pokemon... and he's shown to have a much softer side beneath his strictness in pokemas too... he's so grandpa-shaped to me 😭💖

[some-pers0n]

Thank fucking god actually I'm on break right now because if I had to go to lectures and labs and god forbid take tests in this condition I'd be dead on the floor I'm so incredibly serious right now

[bigmammallama5]

u know ur muscles in your calves are Too Tight when your pt guy is digging in and finding all the Actual Muscle Knots that make you want to jump off the table lmao

[hotsugarbyglassanimals]

it's probably the sunnier weather that's doing stuff to my brain to make me more optimistic but it's so interesting having a brain that craves a lot of self-fulfillment to the point where I can move past some hang-ups around perfection by going "oh I really wanna do that though" and then I do it well because researching how to do it right is also a rewarding part of the process

[temperate-rainforest]

I always forget how people back in the olde days used to just die so easily from the flu, until I get the flu myself dhhdhdhf because on one hand I know our medicine is just soo much better now a days but on the other hand I have the immune system of a dead man and once I get sick I'm like the ye olde victorian child on a death bed dhdhdhhd it's been 4 days and I just NOW can get on my phone to watch videos and text, and eat and drink water, and coherently string words together and do more than just lay in bed and moan in pain, and sweat and cough in sick delirium 😭

[starpros-sunshine]

We <3 hearing things