#i’m so curious to know if he actually uses the ass chair

[taehyungfirst]

My opinion is that there is no way is there a lady in Taehyung’s life because ass dining chairs, boxing figurines and Mickey Mouse on the mantel. Is this too obvious?

I’M CRYINGGGGGG

That huge spider-looking monument he got in his living room 😭 The shark man too… yeah a queer man decorated that house.

[sturnioz]

‘THIS IS (NOT) EASY’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut, fluff, angst

word count. 13.7k

❝being in this friends with benefits relationship with you was not as easy as i thought it would be...❞

content warnings. friends with benefits au, crack humour, explicit content, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, squirting, p in v, unprotected sex (creampies), big dick matt, doggy position, alcohol consumption and mentions of weed, flirty!chris,

—authors note. i've actually written this before but for a different person on another blog. so if you happen to stumble across that somehow and notice the similarities, its me lol. i just liked the plot so much and i wanted to use it for matt.

“Wait, you what?!”

You gasp out loud, not caring about the loudness of your tone, voice piercing throughout the library alongside the squeaking legs of your chair across the wooden flooring as you abruptly straight up in your seat. 

Other students with their heads shoved in books and laptop screens peek over in curiosity while one irritated classmate leans over the table to shush you angrily, warning you about the volume of your voice but you pay them no mind, gaze fixed on Matt who sits across from you sheepishly.

Matthew Sturniolo—one of the heartthrobs on campus, the quiet and mysterious type that turns curious heads, and undoubtedly the kindest guy in class has been your best friend for the past few years. You met during a practice hockey game where fourteen-year-old Matt had tried to score a goal to impress his brothers and newfound friends, only for the hockey puck to come flying over the glass barrier, hurling straight towards your face and leaving you with a swollen eyeball and a busted up nose.

Matt was unbelievably apologetic, going to extreme lengths by buying candies and ripping up flowers from potted plants to give to you whenever you both crossed paths, begging for your forgiveness over and over again desperately until you socked him in the face, giving him a hefty nosebleed and a bruised cheek in return. 

A toothy grin spread across your cheeks and you finally had accepted the gifts out of his hands, a happy ‘now we’re even!’ leaving your lips as you had ripped open the candies, offering him a treat, offering him your friendship.

The two of you became inseparable and if someone saw one of you, they knew that the other would be trailing along behind them. You were two peas in a pod—the dynamic duo. You were so joined at the hip that when you both enrolled for college, you tried signing up for a dorm on campus, wanting and hoping to be roommates. 

It didn’t happen.

Matt ended up rooming with one of his friends, Tyler, while you got stuck with some girl you didn’t even know but had become acquainted with over a short period of time. 

Still, you and Matt never strayed far from each other even with your roommates in the picture. He sleeps over at your place every now and then, and vice versa. You’re certain that he’s even claimed a whole drawer in your dresser, filled with his spare shirts, sweatpants and underwear.

A lot of your mutual friends, including his brothers, found it suspicious how you two could be so close without anything going on between you both, complaining how the two of you can’t be just friends. It was partially the truth.

You are not just friends, you’re best friends.

“I’m just saying, that you’re complaining about not hooking up with someone for a few days while I haven’t slept with someone for, like, a month,” Matt repeats to you with flushed cheeks, adjusting the black cap on his head with one hand while the other skilfully twirls a pen around his fingers, “Times are hard, kid. I got assignments up to my ass—”

“There’s no way you haven’t hooked up with someone lately,” You hiss through gritted teeth, refusing to believe a word that comes out of his mouth when he’s talking about such nonsense. 

A nearby student from the table next to yours shifts around in their seat in annoyance to look at you, pressing their finger aggressively against their lips to tell you to quiet down and you scoff in response, throwing them the middle finger with your own irritancy and annoyance.

“Can you not?” Matt scolds as his hand firmly wraps around your own, squeezing in warning as he guides it back down to the table. He offers an apologetic smile to the student, and as always, it works like a charm as they shyly smile back and resume their work. Another scoff leaves your lips and Matt turns his attention back to you. “I’m telling you the truth, you know.”

“Bullshit,” You murmur, sending him a glare. “That girl from my study group was over at your dorm last weekend—I saw her Snapchat stories.”

“Dude, we’re both in the same study group. She came over for some of my notes and ended up staying longer because Tyler offered her an ounce of his ‘premium weed’,” Matt explains, adding a sarcastic emphasis around the word ‘premium weed’ which has you snorting, knowing that there was nothing premium about Tyler’s stash. “She eventually ended up staying over and hooking up with Chris anyways.”

Your face contorts into a look of confusion at that, “What? Chris? He isn’t even your roommate.”

“I know. Tyler’s sheets are still in the dryer,” Matt grimaces. “But Nick has had this ‘sex-free’ policy on his and Chris’ dorm ever since that guy screwed him over last weekend.” 

“Oh…” You pause, amused at Nick’s new policy, but then the realisation finally hits you. “So that’s why Tyler didn’t have any sheets on his bed when I came over on Monday.”

“Y—wait, you came over Monday?” Matt snaps his head towards you, eyes narrowing as he jabs his pen in your direction. “Did you fuck in my bed?!”

“No. Of course not,” You gasp, deeply offended by his accusation and Matt lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing his shoulders as he leans back into his chair. “We actually fucked on the couch—”

“Are you fucking kidding me—”

“That’s besides the point!” You cut him off before he can grill you, silencing him by raising your hand in front of his face when he tries to retaliate again. “The fact remains, Matt, is that you haven’t fucked anyone in a whole month. And that’s like… I don’t know, it’s like blasphemy!”

Matt deadpans, his expression devoid of amusement. “I’m pretty sure that’s not blasphemy.”

“Whatever. You know what I mean,” You dismiss, shoving your books and pens as far away from you as you possibly could, no longer interested in studying the endless amount of words on that page now that you’ve discovered your best friend hasn't hooked up with anyone in so long. You sit comfortably in your chair as you fully give him your attention, tucking your legs beneath you. “I can’t believe it…”

“You’re telling me,” Matt huffs, deciding to set aside his own studies too. He rubs his face in frustration, groaning beneath his palms. You console him with a frown, reaching out to rub his shoulder in sympathy. Matt’s hands drop to his lap, and he shoots you a glare, “I can’t believe you didn’t believe me. Why would I lie about something like that?!”

You’re quick to defend yourself, “You fuck more than I do. Of course I'm not gonna believe a word you say when you tell me something like that!” 

And it’s true, Matt does have a higher number of sexual encounters compared to you. His boyish charm and adorable face doesn’t hide the fact that his body count is probably in the twenties, and that his online bank statements are likely to reveal the frequent purchases of packs of condoms (and maybe a few Plan B pills for extra precaution). Matt has always been cautious and responsible, which doesn’t surprise you. He’s not one to take unnecessary risks or potentially impregnate someone, especially a stranger.

“You didn’t have to say it out loud like that…” Matt mutters under his breath, cheeks dusting a slight shade of pink as another student turns around in their seat to glare at the pair of you, but her eyes widen comically as she sees Matt. Shyly, she tucks her hair behind her ears with a kind smile that Matt reciprocates. You lean back in your seat with a roll of your eyes just as Matt brings his attention back to you, “Are we done with this conversation? I’d rather talk about something more interesting than my nonexistent sex life.”

“Fine,” You relent. “Are you going to Nate’s later?”

“No, kid’s got some important hockey meeting or something, so we’re hanging another time,” Matt sighs softly, removing his cap to run his fingers through his hair before readjusting it. “Would you be cool if I came over yours?”

“Sure,” You grin, already shoving your belongings into your bag, eager to leave the library as soon as possible. Matt’s lip curls up in amusement as he follows in suit, packing his own things into his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. 

As you glance over, you notice the girl still staring at Matt and a mischievous smirk forms on your face as you slam your hand on the desk in front of her, capturing her attention.

You jab your thumb in Matt’s direction and you teasingly offer, “If you want his number. I can give it to you. He’s been stuck in a dry spell recently, so—”

Before you can finish your sentence, Matt’s fingers curl around your elbow, yanking you away from the bewildered girl with a huff, “Move.”

“I’ve been thinking about something…” You break the comfortable silence between you both after a few hours of binge-watching a series and indulging in takeout, dropping your pizza crust into the cardboard box and pushing it aside. Matt sits beside you on the couch, his own pizza in hand, gaze fixed on the TV screen, listening to what the characters are saying.

Matt glances at you with a quick, pointed look as he chews, “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Wow. Funny.” You deadpan with a roll of your eyes and he chuckles under his breath, turning his attention back to the TV screen. “Anyway, and hear me out before you say some dumb shit. I’ve been thinking about something that relates to that little problem we both have, and I may have come up with a way to fix it.”

“Why are you still hung up on this?” Matt complains between mouthfuls. “I don’t want to be constantly reminded that I’m not having sex—”

You quickly raise your hand to hush him and he goes cross eyed to stare at your palm in confusion. “I said hear me out.”

“Fine.”

“Great!“ You exclaim with a grin, “Okay, so, you and I are the best of friends, right? We always help each other out and—”

“Where is this going?”

“Hear. Me. Out.” You warn once more, emphasising each word. Matt sighs, nodding his head for you to continue. “We always help each other out, correct? And there’s no awkwardness between us, which is what also makes us so close. Remember that time we had to make out in front of Jeremy so he would stop hitting on me? And that time I pretended to be your girlfriend so Gracie would get the hint that you didn’t want to sleep with her anymore?”

“Well, yeah, but that didn’t exactly work out because we ended up hooking up with them a few days after it happened—”

“That’s not the point,” You say as you frustratingly rub at your temples. “The point is that we always help each other, no matter what the situation is, because we’re best friends. So, as best friends, I think we should help each other out with our little situation.”

“And how can we help each other out?”

“By fucking each other.”

The second those words leave your mouth, Matt chokes on his food, banging his fist against his chest as he coughs, his eyes watering and face turning red. The sight of his reaction has you cackling, wishing you had your phone nearby to take a picture.

After a few moments, Matt manages to regain his breath, reaching down to grab his bottle of water from the side of the couch and gulping it down almost immediately.

You click your tongue against your teeth, a playful smirk on your face. “That was a little dramatic.”

“And you’re crazy,” Matt shoots back, water droplets trickling down his chin as he looks at you with wide eyes. “Do you realise what you just said?”

You nod your head, “Perfectly.”

“We are not fucking. It’ll be weird,” Matt says, you instantly find offence to that, your jaw dropping in disbelief. Matt rolls his eyes at your reaction. “We’re best friends. Best friends don’t do that type of shit—Stop looking at me like that!”

You huff, turning your head away from him childishly. “I’m just trying to help us out. I don’t think it’ll be weird… people have done weirder.”

“Are you aware of how many friendships have been ruined because they fucked?” Matt questions you and you take a moment to ponder, wincing as you can easily name a few from the top of your head. “Exactly. As much as I find you attractive, I’m not going to ruin our friendship. We’ve been best friends for too long.”

Your head slowly turns back to Matt, who’s already looking at you. A grin spreads across your face as you flirtatiously bat your eyelashes at him, “You think I’m attractive?”

“My god, you’ve un-fucking-believable, I swear…” Matt trails off, muttering under his breath as he rubs at his forehead in frustration. You beam at the thought of getting under his skin, but eventually you roll your eyes and reach over to press your foot into his side, playfully nudging him to bring his attention back to you. 

Matt looks over at you with a deadpan expression and you continue to grin at him, tilting your head to the side as you admire the view.

Truthfully, you’ve always found Matt attractive even if it was in a friendly way and you’d be lying if you said that hooking up with him has never crossed your mind, but that’s mainly because you’re nosy and want to see what all the fuss is about when you constantly hear the girls fawn about what he’s like in bed.

Some say he’s extremely giving, tending to their needs in all ways possible. Some also say he’s demanding and rough, one hand curled into their hair as he’s fucking them from behind, spitting out degrading words into their ears. But you’ve also heard that he sometimes comes across as needy and desperate, begging for his cock to be sucked and to be made a mess out of.

It piques your interest a lot… maybe it’s wrong of you to think that way about someone you know so well, but you’re human after all, sometimes you can’t help the way you think about certain people.

“Look,” You speak up first, letting out a sigh. “What I said was just a suggestion, okay? If you don’t want to do it, then that’s fine—”

“How do you know that it won’t ruin our friendship?” Matt cuts you off and your eyebrows raise in surprise at the question. “We’ve been best friends for, like, six years or something right? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to throw that all away because we messed up and decided to fuck each other just because we’re ‘sex deprived’.”

“We’re not going to get into anything super serious,” You reassure him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Sure, we’re probably going to end up in some type of friends with benefits situation, but we’re not going to include any of that official or exclusive title bullshit. We just hook up for a release when we can’t find it anywhere else, it’s as simple as that. No complications.”

“So…” Matt purses his lips in deep thought. “We can still fuck other people?”

You scoff, “Of course. You think I’d drop Tyler for you that easily?”

“Fuck you.”

Your lips curl into a smirk, “I’m hoping you would.”

Matt stares at you for a brief moment before chuckling, shaking his head as his tongue prods at his cheek. The little action spurs something within you but you remain seated, wanting Matt to be the one to make the first move if he was game in fucking you to help relieve the stress you’re both feeling… maybe Matt a little more considering that you fucked Tyler a few days prior, but you were desperate to be filled again. 

You watch Matt sit in silence for a moment, seemingly deep in his thoughts as his eyebrows knit together, thinking about the pros and cons. His hands come up to pull the cap off of his head completely, his hair messily falling in front of his eyes and your thighs press together as the thought of seeing it between your legs with your fingers threading through the locks. 

You internally laugh at how deluded you sound.

“What time does your roommate get back tonight?” Matt questions you, his low tone bringing you out of your own thoughts and your body buzzes with excitement, fumbling as you reach over to snag your phone off the coffee table to check the time, informing him that she won’t be home for another three hours. “Alright. Good to know.”

“So?” You press, dropping your phone back down as you look at him expectedly. “What’s it going to be?”

Matt takes a deep breath, “No titles.”

“None at all.”

“We can still fuck whoever we want.”

“Whoever, whenever.”

“And most importantly…” Matt pauses with a deep sigh, leaning over the couch closer to you and he holds up his hand, his pinkie outstretched. “We’re still best friends.”

“It’ll be like nothing ever changed.” You promise softly with a smile, curling your pinky finger around his own, squeezing it tightly to keep your promise.

It’s silent between you both for a while, and you can clearly see the cogs turning inside Matt’s head as he thinks about his next move, yet you’re the one that decides to take that initiative.

You rip your hand away from his to throw your arms around his shoulders, fingers buried into his locks as you drag him towards you to eagerly plant your lips on his. You’re surprised at how fast Matt responds to the kiss as his hands come up to cup your cheeks, tilting his head to the side to kiss you deeper, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

The plenty drunken kisses you’ve shared with Matt to help each other out of sticky situations is nothing like the kiss you’re experiencing right now, and it catches you extremely off guard. You were expecting him to allow you to take control of what was happening and lead him through it considering you were the one to bring it up, but with the way Matt’s pushing you backwards to lay you down on the couch and crawling between your open legs with his lips still attached to yours, you’re stumped. 

“Wait,” You stop him, pressing your palm against his chest to push him back and Matt moves away with raw, wet lips, his fingers hovering above the waistband of your shorts. “Why are we doing this on the couch? I have a bed we can use.”

Matt glares down at you, “That didn’t stop you and Tyler from fucking on my couch.”

“Actually, there were no sheets on Tyler’s bed, so—”

“Think of this as payback,” Matt smiles at you sweetly and you snarl, knocking your leg against his side with force and he laughs through clenched teeth, “Besides, you’ve probably fucked a lot of people on this couch… Do you really care?”

You blink up at him. “Are you implying that I’m a slut?”

Matt shrugs, “Maybe, yeah.”

“That’s so hot of you.”

Matt chuckles and leans down to reconnect your lips, fingers unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them down your legs with your underwear, carelessly throwing them somewhere to the side and you hiss at the cold air that hits, yearning for warmth.

Matt’s lips trail down your throat and to the collar of your shirt, nipping and sucking at your skin, heading south to where your thighs shake in anticipation. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as you watch him shuffling down to lay between your legs, hands pushing against your knees to spread you further apart, the coldness of his rings prickling at your skin.

Your own hand reaches down to thread your fingers through his hair, trying to tug him closer but he barely budges, gazing up at you with his brows knit together.

You whine, “Hurry.”

“Are you always this impatient?”

“Of course,” You look at him like he’s stupid. “We’re both doing this for a reason and it’s to cum, not to take our sweet little time and—Oh shit…”

“Fucking yapping. You talk too much.” Matt drags his tongue through your folds, the pink muscle swirling over your clit and your body jerks in shock at the sensation, a gasp fleeting past your lips as your grip on his hair tightens, feeling his tongue wiggle between your folds and licking upwards to flick over your clit before his fingers tease at your entrance.

Your body goes slack against the couch cushions, mouth stuck open as he eases two digits inside the warmth of your pussy, curling his fingers upwards as his lips wrap around your sensitive clit and you whine, tugging at his hair a little harder which causes him to groan, the vibrations causing goosebumps to shoot up your spine.

You’re in shock at how well Matt actually uses his tongue and fingers. Of course you’ve heard stories from your girl friends and even Matt himself, but you didn’t expect him to be this good and it completely catches you off track, unable to control the noises that rip from the back of your throat when he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt while using his tongue to work wonders on your clit.

“Matt,” You whisper his name with a moan, thighs twitching and closing in around his head. You feel him smirk against your pussy and you squeeze your thighs in warning. “Stop it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to cum already?” He asks, his tone a little condescending as he raises his head, mouth glistening with your arousal. His fingers continue hitting that spot that has your toes curling and back arching against the cushions. “You can cum, if you want.”

“You’re so fucking cocky,” You tut, fighting the urge to smile but you amusement ends up slipping away and is overcome b y pleasure as he pumps his fingers a few more times, the tightening band in your stomach snapping as you cum all over his fingers, gasping through high pitched whines and trying to control the convulsing movement of your body.

“That’s it,” Matt hums, pressing a quick kiss to your pussy. “Good job.”

You choke out your words, unable to come up with a full sentence as your hand falls limp onto his shoulder, fingers twitching over the material as you breathe heavily. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Me eating you out,” He answers matter-of-factly, a hint of smugness in his tone as he pops his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean. Your mouth drops in shock at the action and he meets your gaze, “You good?”

“Yeah… good.” You nod dumbly, completely astonished at how nonchalant Matt is acting as you watch him tug his sweatpants and boxers down his legs awkwardly when he sits up, eyes automatically zoning in on his cock that slaps against his stomach once freed from its confinements. 

Honestly, you have seen Matt naked. He’s comfortable with stripping in front of you and changing without any thought. But… you’ve never seen Matt hard, and the sight alone is enough to have your mouth watering.

Your best friend is huge.

“Okay,” Matt mumbles to himself, crawling forward and hooking his hands under the back of your knees to pull you closer to him, his thumbs caressing your skin. “Are you sure you’re ready? You know there’s no turning back from this, right?”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” You grin as you wiggle against him excitedly. “Give me what you got, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” Matt clicks his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head as he slowly eases his cock into you. Slowly, your eyes start to widen at the stretch, the burn obvious in your core and thighs, and your hand flies down to his in hopes to slow down his movements despite him going as slow as he possibly can.

You try to breathe steadily through your nose, lips pressed together tightly as your wince at the uncomfortable ache that spreads, your pussy clamping down on him as if you were trying to prevent him from pushing any further.

“Ow.” You whisper, twisting your hips to try and get comfortable and relax but you wince at each movement you make, causing Matt to raise his gaze from where you’re connected to look into your eyes, his own pooling with concern.

“Are you okay?”

You hum with a curt nod of your head, “Nothing of that significant size has been up there before, you know? I’m just… feeling uncomfortable, that’s all.”

Matt’s lips curl into a grin, “You calling my dick big?”

You send him a hardened glare, “Not as big as your fucking head.”

Matt laughs loudly and he lays his hand flat across your lower stomach as he adjusts himself between your legs, head ducking down slightly to watch himself slowly push into you once more, but the second your legs tense up, he sighs apologetically and strokes your stomach, sliding his cock out of you and you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness, looking at him with a pout.

“Give me a second, okay?” Matt orders you, gently grabbing your waist to help turn you around on all fours. The brows pinch together at the new position, but your body seems to relax when you feel his hands slide around your back and press down tightly, arching it to hold you in place as you feel his cock at your entrance once more. “This should feel better. But tell me if it hurts? I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“Just—” You grit your teeth together. “Just fuck me, Matt.”

“You got it.” Matt whispers as he pushes himself back into you again at a slower pace and you gasp, your fingers gripping the arm of the couch, head dropping low to rest on the cushions as you try to control your breathing. The new position was definitely better than the last, but you can still feel him stretch you out to fit you around his cock. “Is my dick really that big?”

“Are you asking because you’re concerned or because you want me to boost your ego?”

Matt smiles, “Maybe both.”

You don’t even get the chance to retaliate with your own snarky comment as Matt fills you up completely, hips pressing to your ass and cry out at how full you’re feeling, unable to think properly as he pulls back, leaving the tip nestled in your cunt before thrusting back in.

Matt curses loudly behind you, fingers digging into your ski as he rocks his hips into you, his thrusts sending your body jerking forwards. You squeeze around his cock and he grunts, changing his pace and you can’t help but fuck youtself back onto him, whining and panting at the pleasure that swirls in the pit of your tummy. 

The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin is enough to have your eyes rolling back in pleasure, driving you even closer to the edge along with his rapid thrusts and continuous cursing. You’re positive you can even hear him praise you a little bit, muttering about how tight your pussy is. 

You would’ve never guessed he was into such dirty talk. Matt continues to amaze you.

Your pussy clamps around his cock when you feel his hand sneak beneath your body to reach between your thighs, the pads of his fingers rubbing diligent circles on your clit and you mewl, your own hand coming down to latch around his wrist.

“Shit,” You slur your words, drool seeping past the corner of your lips. “So good—fuck, Matt, don’t stop—s’good.”

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna stop.” Matt chuckles behind you and you can feel the tears build up in your waterline as Matt leans over your body, holding himself up with one hand on the arm of the couch, his other still rubbing circles on your clit. You gasp as how deep he’s nestled within you and it has you seeing stars, your toes curling and your body tensing up as his cock fucks into your cunt, repeatedly hitting that spot over and over before your second orgasm of the night hits you violently. 

Your screams are muffled by the cushions, walls pulsating around his cock as you cum, struggling to hold up your own weight as your body falls limp on the couch. Pleasure buzzes through your veins and it sends you mind whirling as Matt fucks you through it to reach his own high, moving his hand from your clit to rest on your lower back, arching your ass up to fuck you deeper.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He pants heavily, thumb stroking the bottom of your spine. “Fuck—tell me where I can cum.”

“Anywhere you want.” You slur your words, craning your head to the side to look at him, capturing how his eyes widen slightly.

“Anywhere?” Matt repeats as he slows down his movements and you nod your head, only to yelp in shock when he pulls out of you completely and flips your body around once more. You stare at him in surprise as he crawls up your body, resting a hand on your cheek and pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. “Here?”

You don’t give him a verbal answer, instead you open wide, welcoming him and Matt grins, pushing the head of his cock into your mouth and sighing as your lips close around him, suckling on his tip as he cums in long spurts down your throat, brows knitting together in pleasure and moaning softly as your tongue presses against his slit, swallowing everything he gives you. 

There’s a comfortable silence as Matt removes himself from above you, choosing to drop down in the limited space between your body and the couch, running his fingers through his sweaty hair as he tries to catch his breath.

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what had just happened, staring between Matt’s naked lower half and yours before you abruptly sit up, rolling onto your knees that pop as you stare down at him incredulously. 

“Matt!” You screech, punching his shoulder with such force that has him wincing. 

“Ow!” He hisses, rubbing the area. “Why—”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were that good?” You immediately cut him off, not allowing him to finish as you shake your head quickly. “We should’ve done this ages ago!”

Matt rolls his eyes in annoyance despite the grin that spreads across his cheeks as he throws his arm over his face, “Shut up.”

“Okay, so, let me get this straight,” Nick pauses to chew and swallow his sandwich, pointing between you and Matt on the opposite side of the table. “You two decided to hook up last night because neither of you have hooked up with anyone in a long time, and now you’ve made some sort of deal that when you can’t find release somewhere else, you’ll go to each other?”

“Yeah.”

“What the actual fuck?!” Nick exclaims, looking at you both as if you’ve grown an extra head before abruptly turning to Chris and Tyler who are sitting beside each other silently, watching everything unfold. “Why are you guys saying anything?!”

“I don’t think it’s as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Chris shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly before he turns his attention to you, furrowing his eyebrows. “Although, I am kind of offended you didn’t ask me to fuck you.”

You grimace, “It makes me queasy thinking about where your dick has been, if I’m honest.”

“When was the last time you got tested?” Matt teases his younger triplet, a slight smirk curling at the ends of his lips as he leans back into his chair, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he manspreads. Chris rolls his eyes and retaliates by throwing him the middle finger.

“And you’re okay with this?” Nick questions Tyler who slowly nods his head as he rolls a blunt beneath the table, lips pursed in concentration. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tyler questions back, lifting his gaze to Nick and raising a brow before looking back down to his lap. “We just fuck, that’s it. And besides, sometimes I get so faded that I can’t even get my dick up. She needs good dick and I can’t give it to her when I’m that out of it.”

You gasp in awe, reaching across the table to grip his arm. “You are so thoughtful!”

“So I’m the only sane fucking person that thinks this is a stupid idea?” Nick shakes his head in disbelief, biting into his sandwich with a deep sigh. His eyes suddenly widen, a piece of lettuce hanging from his mouth as he erratically pats his pockets. “Where’s Nate? Somebody text Nate right now.”

“Please, you know damn well Nate isn’t going to give a shit,” Chris cackles with a grin, adjusting the beanie on his head. “Pretty sure he fucked his girl best friend last year.”

“Yeah? And where is she now?” Nick looks at all of you expectedly for an answer and you frown, sinking into your seat with your arms crossed over your chest. “Exactly.”

“Come on, kid, it’s not like that…” Matt tries to explain. “We talked about it. We’re not doing any of that exclusive or official title stuff. We’re not making it weird.”

“Meaning we can still hook up with whoever we want.” You add on, eyes flickering over to Tyler and you give him a pretty smile, only for him to look back at you with a smirk and give you a flirtatious wink.

“So, what I’m hearing is,” Chris pauses, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he bats his eyelashes at you. “There’s still a chance for me?”

Nick immediately plugs his ears as he repeatedly mumbles, “I don’t not want to hear this. Stop it immediately. I hate it.”

“Hate what?” Nate’s voice interrupts from behind and you whiz around in your seat, grinning widely as you see Nate approaching your table with his hockey jersey in one hand and his books in the other. 

He greets you all with a smile, placing his belongings down on the table before grabbing an empty chair from another, the metal legs scraping across the floor as he drags it to place beside Matt, slapping his hand down on Matt’s shoulder in greeting as he sits down. 

“What are you talking about anyway?”

“They hooked up,” Nick immediately jumps straight into it as he points at the two of you and you sigh, throwing your head back in frustration. Matt laughs beside you. “And they’re going to continue to hook up whenever they don’t have anyone else to go to, so—”

“Oh, nice man.”

Nick stares at Nate, “No. Not nice. Not nice at all,” Nick shakes his head. “You’re all helpless. Dumb and helpless, every single one of you.”

Nate pulls a face, “I mean, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be—”

“That’s what I said~” Chris sings.

“And besides, they’re grown adults. They can do whatever they want.” Nate’s words make your brows raise with little surprise, watching as he flips open his book and grabs the pen that rests behind his ear, biting the cap off with his teeth before looking at you. “I’m surprised it took you both this look to actually hook-up… I thought it would’ve happened months ago.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just means I thought you two would’ve fucked months ago.” Nate smiles and shrugs his shoulders innocently, blowing the cap out of his mouth and watching it with his hand before he begins to scribble on the pages. You roll your eyes, glancing over at Matt who shrugs his own shoulders, not fully understanding the meaning of Nate’s words but chooses not to dwell on it any longer as he reaches for his drink, sipping through the straw as he gives his attention to Chris who angles his phone in his direction to show him something you could barely see. 

Nick shakes his head, still in disbelief as he shoves the last remaining bite of his sandwich into his mouth before grabbing his book out of his backpack to take notes alongside Nate. He then comically raises his head up to point his pen at you and Matt.

“Also, just to let you know, I don’t want to hear any complaining from either of you when this whole situationship bullshit ends up going to literal shit,” Nick warns before he slowly turns to the pen to point to himself, “Because I will laugh in your face and simply say, ‘I told you so’.”

A scoff leaves your lips as Matt speaks, “Relax, kid. Everything is going to be fine. Plus, this whole thing could just be a one time thing… It might not even happen again,” Matt turns to look at you. “Right?”

A smile finds its way onto your face as you lean your elbows on the table, chin resting on the palm of your hand as you give him an affirmative nod. “Right.”

“Fuck, Matt.” You moan out his name repeatedly, back arching off your bed, gripping the pillows resting behind your head with your mouth wide open. Matt’s fingers pump in and out of your pussy, squirting over his hand and splashing onto the bed sheets below you. 

He laughs as you shove your face into the crook of your arm, body trembling and breathing whines slipping past your lips from the overwhelming sensation of him fucking you with his fingers.

Your legs clamp shut around his hand but he’s already prying you back open with the other, holding them down to the bed as his fingers curl upwards, almost bringing you to tears at the pleasure in the pit of your tummy. 

“There we go…” Matt hums softly, milking you for every drop you can give. You quiver and gasp when Matt comes to a stop, the grin on his face evident as he pulls his fingers from your cunt and you whine, struggling to raise your foot and kick him in his side. He captures your ankle in his grasp, drawing circles with his fingertips. “You good?”

“You good?” You mock him, tone nasally. Your arms flop to your side as you take a deep breath, ignoring the way Matt’s laughing at you. “That was intense… I felt like I was going crazy.”

“Thank you,” Matt grins, eyes twinkling as he slips off your bed. “Your need to change your sheets though.”

“Wow. So gentlemanly of you to offer to help.” You mutter sarcastically under your breath, clicking your tongue against your teeth. You stand up from the bed and your knees buckle beneath you, causing you to panic and immediately reach out and grab onto a surface to steady yourself, throwing the middle finger up in Matt’s direction when he chuckles. 

He tells you to go shower while he takes care of the sheets and you immediately oblige, patting his arm in a quick thanks as you wobble out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, eager to clear yourself up after previous activities. 

You take longer than usual to shower, taking your time to scrub your body clean and even wash your hair, not even caring about what Matt could be doing inside your home as he waits for you, but you pause your routine when you actually begin to think about your relationship with Matt. 

It’s been almost three weeks since you started hooking up with Matt, showing up at each other's places whenever you’re in need of sex, getting it over and done with before hanging out properly, before even getting a bite to eat or binge watching a series. 

You still sleep with Tyler. You’ve even fucked Tyler and Matt on the same day. Matt doesn’t care, of course he doesn’t, and personally neither do you. But there have been a few moments where you start to recall the amount of times you had chosen Matt over Tyler… and it was a lot. 

You and Matt are supposed to fuck whenever you have no one else to go to. And yet, give the choice… you still chose Matt. 

A loud call of your name and a fist banging against the bathroom door startles you out of your thoughts, “I need to piss. Hurry up!”

“Just come in!” You yell back at him, frowning as you face the stream of water to let the soap run off your body as you mumble, “It’s not like you haven’t barged in before.”

You hear the door creak open behind the shower curtain and you poke your head around just in time for Matt to unzip his pants to relieve himself, his head tilting back with a sigh of relief. 

His eyes meet yours when he turns his head and his brows knit together, giving you an odd look. “What?”

“Can I ask you a question?” He blinks before giving you a quick nod. “Are you still fucking other people?”

“Yeah,” That answer relieves you a bit. “I was with Sadie last weekend.”

“I have another question.”

“Why are you—”

“I’m asking the questions,” You cut him off and Matt laughs, nodding for you to continue as he zips up his pants and washes his hands. “Has Sadie, or any other girl, been available on the same day that I’ve been available? Or asked you to come over?”

“Uh…” Matt ponders for a moment, bottom lip poking out his deep thought as he dries his hands on a towel. “Yeah, I think so.”

“And who did you end up choosing?”

“You.”

It shocks you at how fast he answers your question and you grip the shower curtain for support, the slippery floor of the shower almost making you tumblr. He chose you too… is that wrong? You’re uncertain and it makes you feel a little uneasy. Surely there must be a reasonable explanation to why you choose each other instead of fucking other available people.

“Why are you asking me that anyway?”

“Curious,” You answer quickly as you close the curtain to block him out and continue showering, ignoring the way he’s mumbling under his breath how strange you are. “Wait. I have another question.”

“Ask me when you’re down showering.”

“Why?” The tone of your voice turns sultry as you smirk, “Is knowing I’m naked behind this shower curtain turning you on?”

Matt doesn’t answer. Instead, his arm shoots out from behind the curtain, hand curling around the faucet tap to turn the temperature of the water, laughing like a maniac as he hears you scream from the cold water that splashes your skin.

You hated birthdays.

Actually, you hated your birthday. 

You hated knowing you’re getting older each year, desperately wanting to go back to the ages where all you worried about was not making a fool of yourself in front of someone you had a crush on, or not knowing the biggest high school gossip about who was seeing who behind whoever’s back.

Now, at your growing age, all you worry about is failing college and not being able to get a good enough job to provide a future for yourself.

You wish nobody knew it was your birthday, but having such a close group of groups who knew you better than you knew yourself, it wasn’t going to be easy, and you almost spun around and darted out of campus when you saw Chris twirling a gift bag in hand with helium balloons that spelt out ‘birthday girl!’ in big, bold letters tied to his wrist. 

“There she is!”

You wanted the ground to swallow you up.

“Happy birthday!” Chris yells loudly when you reach their circle, letting your backpack drop to the grass beside Tyler who looks up at you with a dopey smile. Chris shoves the gift bag into your hands when you finally sit down, huffing at the weight of the bag. “I bought you something.”

“I told him not to, I promise,” Nick tells you as he applies chapstick before he leans in close, “But as always, Chris doesn’t fucking listen.”

“And I never will,” Chris grins, untying the strip of balloons from around his wrist to tie them around your own, ignoring the dark glare you give him as he smiles at you cheekily. “Look inside. It’s all the essentials you need.”

“I swear to god, if you—”

“Shh,” He pressed his finger against your lips. “Less talking, more looking.”

You roll your eyes, swatting his finger away from your face before peering into the bag. A soft, genuine laugh leaves your lips when you first see two bottles of your favourite alcoholic beverage and a few chocolates, but you immediately cease all laughter and amusement when you see a pack of condoms and a Plan B box sandwiched between the pair. 

Tyler peeks over your shoulder to drop a pre-rolled joint and a few gummies into the bag for later, but makes a funny noise when he sees the condom pack. He dips his hand inside the bag to pull it out, throwing it back at Chris who fumbles to catch it.

“Hey—”

“She doesn’t use condoms.”

Chris gapes, slowly turning his head towards you with widened eyes. He leans forward, nose brushing against yours as he speaks, “Are you sure you don’t want to fuck me?”

Nick yells and covers his ears, threatening to punch his youngest sibling in the throat as Nate and Tyler snort.

“Positive,” You giggle and pat his cheek, causing him to whine and slump back into his own space in defeat. “I’m thankful for the gifts, but please… you know I hate celebrating my birthday. And were the balloons really necessary too? Did you have to make it more obvious?”

Chris frowns, tugging at the string. “But the balloons are pretty.”

“She doesn’t like balloons, kid.”

Your head whizzes around so quickly you’re positive you could hear it crack at the speed, a grin spreading across your cheeks when you see Matt standing behind you looking at your balloons in disgust. But your eyebrows raise in surprise when you see Sadie standing beside him.

You greet her with a wave and she reciprocates, wishing you a quiet happy birthday which you thank her for and motioning for them both to join you in your circle, but Sadie shakes her head with an apology, announcing that she has to be somewhere else.

You watch as she places her hand on Matt’s bicep, asking if they can meet up later but Matt shakes his head, telling her that he already has plans and her face deflates for a moment before nodding, bidding him and the rest of you a goodbye before leaving. 

Matt lets out a huff as he drops down to the grass, stretching out his legs and knocking his foot against yours, mouthing you a quick happy birthday and you smile in gratitude. 

“Sadie seems to be hanging out with you a lot recently,” Nate points out and Nick nods his head in agreement. “You like her?”

Matt shakes his head, “No. She was just asking me if I wanted to do something this weekend.”

“Are you?”

“No,” Matt mindlessly starts plucking the glass, avoiding everyone's eyes as they zone in on him. “I don’t have the time. Got some assignments to finish for my classes.”

Hearing him say that he hasn’t got the time sparks interest in you, and you begin to wonder if Matt would end up asking you for some well needed release. It excites you, especially when you realise you haven’t been under him or on top of him in a few days and you press your thighs together at the thought of possibly getting dicked down sooner rather than later. 

It’s a birthday gift, you say to yourself when you try to give an excuse to why you’re so needy to be fucked by Matt. It’s just a birthday gift… yet, you have Tyler right beside you, someone who’s easily available and someone who used to be frequent in giving you the best birthday sex of your life.

You could ask Tyler to come over tonight, but why wasn’t the question being asked? Why does it feel like you’re stopping yourself from asking something so simple and easy?

Perhaps you’re so used to sleeping around with Matt that it doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone else anymore. Tyler doesn’t seem bothered, maybe because he’s been getting his fix elsewhere too, so why does it bother you?

A quiet call of your name brings you out of your thoughts and you turn your head towards the source, gazing landing on Matt who is looking back at you with a kind smile. 

He shuffles further into the circle to get closer to you, voice dipping low. “Come home with me later? I have something for you.”

“What is it?” You instantly ask back, excitement evident in your tone. Even though you weren’t the biggest fan of celebrating your birthday and receiving gifts, there was no doubt in your mind that Matt was probably one of the best people to receive gifts from, knowing he usually goes above and beyond to give you the most memorable birthday. 

You smile when you remember the three-day spa voucher he gave you last year when he and his brothers had taken you away for the weekend, it was the most breathtaking cabin you had ever been to. The sunset above the lake was still photographed in your memory, so was the midnight drive he took you on when Chris and Nick were sleeping.

The sights were beautiful, and you were grateful to have seen it with your best friend.

“You’ll find out.” Matt tells you with a smile, refusing to give you a hint of any sort as he turns his attention to Nick to engage in a conversation. You pout, shoulders slumping in defeat and Chris knocks his arm against yours, voice teasing as he whispers in your ear;

“Looks like my gifts will come in handy after all—OW!”

“This is actually fucking ridiculous.” You giggle as you’re blindingly walking into Matt’s dorm, his hands covering your eyes to prevent you from seeing even though you’ve tried countless times to peek through the gaps between his fingers.

Matt’s chest rumbles against your back as he laughs, waiting for you to toe off your shoes at the entrance before leading you further into the room.

You have the layout completely mapped out in your head from the amount of times you’ve been at his place, already knowing that he’s leading you into the kitchen just by the cold marbling that you feel beneath your feet. 

You almost trip as Matt shoves you down onto a chair and whispers a countdown in your ears before he removes his hands from your face. Your vision is blurry for a moment and you try to adjust to your surroundings with a few blinks, jaw dropping in complete awe as the splotches begin to disperse and you see what’s presented in front of you.

“Are you kidding me?” You whisper softly in astonishment at the gifts that are laid out across the table. You spot a few of your favourite scented candles stacked on top of each other, a bottle of perfume that you were one hundred percent certain that was sitting in your wishlist on an online store you were browsing a few days prior, and a miniature bag with the logo of your favourite jewellery store. 

You feel extremely overwhelmed, the urge to cry becoming harder to keep at bay as your eyes water and string, throat tightening over how thoughtful Matt had been. 

You turn your head towards him with your bottom lip quivering and Matt snickers, pulling a party hat from god knows where and advancing closer to you.

“You asshole…” You insult jokingly, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe at your eyes, hoping that the tears wouldn’t dare fall as Matt secures the hat on top of your head. You point to it, “Isn’t this a little cheesy?”

Matt rolls his eyes, snapping the elastic band against your chin for extra measure and you hiss at the slight sting it causes, punching his arm in retaliation but he pays no mind, smiling to himself as he turns his back to you for a moment to open the refrigerator door, pulling out a white squared box.

He balances it on the palm of his hand with ease, using his foot to kick the door shut as he makes his way back to you. 

You’re grinning widely at the thought of what could be inside the box, even though you’ve already guessed it’s a cake. Your hands rub together excitingly as Matt places it on the counter and gently slides it over to you, the box still in his grasp as it stops in front of you, drumming his fingers on the cardboard. 

Sensing your eagerness, Matt lifts the lid off of the box and the excitement on your face drops almost instantly, expressionless as you peek inside to see the miniature spongebob themed cake staring back at you.

You raise your head to see Matt already grinning at you, tongue poking at his cheek as he opens up a drawer to retrieve two plastic forks, twiddling them between his fingers.

You deadpan, “Are you sure we’re not celebrating your birthday right now?”

“Be quiet, you like spongebob just as much as I do,” Matt scoffs as he hands over one of the plastic forks and you take it with a smile. You go to cut out a piece for yourself but freeze when Matt makes a weird noise, gazing up at him in alarm. “Wait. Hold on—my god—let me take a photo first.”

You roll your eyes but happily oblige as Matt fishes his phone out of his pocket and angles it towards you. You pose, pointing to the cake with a wide smile, almost blinded by the flash when Matt takes the picture and you immediately rub at your eyes, trying to get rid of the blotches while spitting a few creative curse words that make him giggle.

He quickly takes the opportunity of you being blinded to slide beside you, holding his phone high to take a selfie and you poke out your tongue, using your free hand to cup Matt’s cheeks while he rests his on top of your head. 

Before you have the chance to complain about how hungry you are, you gasp in shock when you feel the coldness of the cake’s frosting rubbed on your cheek and the shutter of the camera goes off when Matt takes another photo, capturing you mid chaos as you dig your fingers into the side of the cake to smush a piece against his own cheek, grinning evilly as the yellow frosting covers his skin. 

“Alright, alright. I deserved that,” Matt sighs with a lighthearted laugh, making sure his phone is tucked away and out of the icing zone. “Makes a good blackmail photo though, don’t you think?”

“If that goes anywhere, I will kill you.”

“You already know that’s going on my Instagram, sweetheart.” Matt teases you and you scoff jokingly, shaking your head as you reach for the napkins that are laying conveniently at the side, trying your best to wipe away the frosting before it drops and stains your clothing. 

Matt manages to clean himself up pretty easily and decides to help you out when he notices you struggling, plucking a spare napkin from the pile and he takes a hold of your jaw, facing your towards him as he gently wipes at your cheek, careful not to rub too hard at your skin. 

You’re suddenly awkward of the close proximity and you grow silent, watching as you cleans you up diligently. The concentrated look on his face is what causes your stomach to whirl and heart bloom with warmth, his eyebrows furrowed and gaze zoned in on the area he needs to clean, tongue licking over his bottom lip.

“Matt…” You call out his name quietly to grab his attention and he pauses, staring right at you. He seems to slowly take notice of how close you both are, taking in the limited space between you both and he goes to remove his hand away from your face but stops himself short with a noise, bringing his hand back to finish the job.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Matt whispers to you once he finally wipes away the frosting from your cheeks, smiling down at you with adoration swirling in his eyes and your breathing gets caught at the back of your throat for a moment at the sudden affectionate gaze, unsure of what to say or even what to do with him looking at you the way he is.

Your hands move up to take the birthday hat off of your head, dropping it to the side carelessly as your arms curl around his shoulders, pulling him into your embrace. Matt’s arms slide around your waist, holding you close to his chest as he hugs you back, burying his face in the crevice of your neck and exhaling deeply.

“I’m so thankful,” You admit, squeezing him tight as the emotions within you struggle to be contained. “For real, Matt. I’m really grateful too… thank you for making this birthday special again.”

“It’s not over yet, you know…” Your hear him mutter in your ear and you go to pull back, to question him on what more he could possibly give to top everything else he’s down for today but he’s already bending his knees, arms falling low to lock around your thighs and throwing you over his shoulder with a huff, smacking his hand roughly against your ass as he carries your giggly self to the bedroom. 

Friday nights will always be your favourite nights to let loose and party.

Dressing up in your prettiest outfit that makes you feel confident and sexy, decorating your body with the shiniest of jewellery you own and drinking the most intoxicated drink you could find while mingling with your friends.

Talking with your girls face to face after a week of classes had unfailingly lifted your mood, catching up with all the gossip you missed or only briefly discussed over the phone, finally adding your own two cents into situations which they eagerly agree with a nod of their heads, tapping their cups to yours before taking a sip. 

“Speaking of unusual relationships,” Sarah, one of your dearest friends, turns to look at you with a grin, “How's it going with you and Matt? Have things turned awkward yet?”

“Nope,” You shake your head, buzzing happily. “We’re fine. The whole ‘hooking up with your best friend’ culture isn’t as complicated as everyone makes it out to be. Everyone gets dramatic about it for no reason.”

Kendall lets out a heavy sigh, nursing her drink in her hand, “I don’t know how you do it. I can’t even imagine hooking up with Isaac. I mean, he’s attractive, but we’ve seen and know too much about each other to get physical on an intimate level… props to you.”

Anna shifts her gaze to you next, “Do you still fuck Tyler?”

“On occasion,” You admit. “But honestly, I’ve been so wrapped up in assignments—”

“And Matt.”

You give Sarah a smirk, “I haven’t really had the time to call up Tyler and ask him to fuck. He doesn’t mind anyways. He’s been busy smoking and selling weed for some extra cash.”

“What about Matt? Is he still fucking around?”

You pause at that, lips pursing in deep thought before you shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know. I haven’t asked recently if I’m honest.”

Kendall gestures over your shoulder, “Looks like you’re about to find out the answer.”

You crane your neck to follow the direction she’s pointing in, noticing Matt standing near a back wall with a drink in hand, deep in conversation with Sadie who’s smiling, locked on each word he’s speaking to her.

Feeling your eyes on him, Matt looks up to meet your gaze, raising his drink in greeting and you grin, lifting your own cup before he resumes back in conversation.

You take in his appearance with interest; a black fitted tank top paired with some loose fitted jeans and shoes you’re certain he definitely stole from Nick’s closet. The silver chain deer hangs from his neck and silver rings adorn his fingers. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he looks good.

“Take it easy with the lovey dovey eyes,” Sarah teases, nudging your shoulder to bring your attention back to her and you laugh, tipping your head back to finish the contents of your drink. “He does look good though, so I don’t blame you.”

“When was the last time you fucked Matt?” You direct your question towards Anna who shrugs her shoulders in response. 

“I don’t remember,” She smacks her lips together. “Definitely more than two months ago, that’s for sure… No disrespect to you but god, I miss his cock. How he walks around with that thing completely baffles me.”

Kendall’s eyes widened slightly, “Is Matt’s cock big?”

“Yes.”

You and Anna share a knowing smile and high give each other. You drone out the complaints Kendall makes about wanting to fuck someone with a big cock and how Isaac always sets her up with people who are both shitty in bed and lack personality, you being too focused on looking around the room to find a clear path to get more drinks and you dismiss yourself from your girls for a moment as you spot Nick and Tyler pouring vodka into each others cups.

You bound over to your favourite boys, throwing your arms around their shoulders and startling them with your presence, but Tyler hazily smiles you when he sees it’s you and presses a chaste kiss to your temple as Nick hugs you tight in greeting, offering to fill up your cup which you happily give him.

“Where have you been?” Nick asks you as Tyler takes your hand in his to twirl your around, whistling as he eyes your dress. “You look pretty.”

“Catching up with my girls because I spend way too much time with you guys,” You explain, but cheesily grin at the compliment you received on your outfit. Nick hands you your filled drink and you thank him, taking a quick sip as your eyes glance around the room, “Where’s the rest of the guys?”

“Chris is around here somewhere trying to get laid and Nate is talking to this girl he likes from his classes,” Nick informs you before he laughs. “Matt’s been talking with Sadie for the past hour—-sweet girl is trying to make her move.”

“And why aren’t you showing off your charms tonight?”

Nick’s face immediately drops, “Please. I’m done with boys. All they make me feel is absolute regret and disappointment.”

You smile in sympathy, “You’re looking at the wrong guys.”

“No,” Nick shakes his head. “They’re all the same. Everyone of them. Disgusting.”

You loop your arm around his, tugging him into your side, “What if I introduce you to this guy in my class? He’s tall… handsome… sweet…”

Nick eyes you, clearly interested in what you’re telling him and he holds his head high, “Maybe.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Chris!” You greet him happily as he appears beside Tyler, staring at you all with a confused look but grins when you throw yourself into his arms to hug him tightly, swaying you both back and forth. “I thought you were trying to get laid?”

“I was,” Chris sighs as he pulls away from the hug, but keeps an arm wrapped around your middle. “But she has a boyfriend and he’s, like, scary looking and I didn’t feel like getting nightmares for life.”

You frown, patting his shoulder. “What a shame. The dry spell continues for you.”

Chris leans into your touch, batting his eyelashes prettily at you with a smirk, “You can change that for me if you want.”

Nick fake gags behind you as you smile, “In your dreams.”

Chris sighs jokingly, dropping his head low. “Guess I’ll keep on dreaming then.”

“Dreaming about what?”

The sound of Matt’s voice has you spinning around, beaming happily as your eyes meet his but it falters slightly when you notice the fake smile he’s sporting, wanting to question him and ask him what’s wrong but you bite your tongue, not wanting to bring attention to the subject, knowing it’ll make Matt uncomfortable putting him on the spot. 

You reach out and touch his arm, giving him a comforting squeeze which makes him seem to relax, using your grip on him to tug your into his side and for Chris’ arm to slip from your waist.

“Chris is saying weird ass shit about her again,” Nick fills Matt in, wafting the smoke that Tyler blows in his face teasingly when he takes a hit of his joint. “How’s Sadie?”

“Fine,” Matt replies simply, licking at his lips as he turns to you. “Do you want to get out of here? Just me and you?”

Chris immediately takes offence to that, “What about us? What are you going to do without us?!”

Matt goes to answer but Nick immediately raises his hand, silencing him. “Don’t answer that. Just don’t.”

You’re in complete bliss with Matt holding himself above you, your back is arched, bare chest pressed to his as he nips and licks at your neck, his hips lazily grinding into yours, cock hitting deeper than he’s ever been.

The pace is slow, something that you’re not used to when it comes to Matt, but you don’t find the voice within you to complain, enjoying it a lot more than you’d admit with your fingers tangled in his hair, cries spilling from your lips with your legs hooked over his waist.

He’s grunting in the crevice of your neck with each deep thrust, one hand caressing the side of your face while the other finds a place beside your head, holding up his weight.

You’re whining from the loss of contact when he moves his head away, missing the feeling of his teeth against your skin, the slight stubble scratching your face and you look up at him pleadingly, but he’s frozen as he stares down at you, despite his hips thrusting automatically into you. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so pretty…” You barely hear him mumble and your heart pounds against your ribcage at the complement, body feeling more heated and warm.

“Matt—”

He cuts off your words by planting his lips on yours with the most sweetest and softest kiss he’s ever given you, and you melt into the touch, fingers untangling from his hair to cup his cheeks in your palms, gasping through the kiss as Matt's cock cock slowly pulls out of your pussy before pushing back in, sending a shrill up your spine. 

The band in your tummy tightens with each slow but powerful thrust he gives you, thighs shaking around his frame, unable to keep up with his kisses as your mouth falls open with short gasps and whines, white specks flickering in your vision as your feel yourself inching closer and closer over the edge.

“Cum,” Matt whispers, breath fanning over your face as he pants, “Do it. Cum on my cock.”

You wail as the band snaps, orgasm crashing down on you violently. Your body convulses, pussy squeezing around his cock, keeping him buried deep which has him moaning, his own hips stuttering as he cums. You feel him pulse inside you, filling you up with everything he gives.

Matt’s head slumps down on your shoulder as you try to steady your breathing, wincing as you feel him slowly move his hips back to pull his cock out of your sensitive cunt, your hand falling from his face to drop down at your pussy, gathering his cum that pools out onto your fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Matt apologises against your skin, “I’m sorry, I—shit. I should’ve asked if I could—fuck. I got too overwhelmed. I’m sorry.”

“It’s kind of cute that you’re apologising,” You admit, gently pushing him off of your body to sit upright. “But you don’t need to apologise… this isn’t the first time you came inside me, Matt.”

“I know,” Matt runs his fingers through his sweaty hair. “I usually ask...”

“Matt. It’s fine,” You reassured him, placing your palm on his bicep. “I’ll forgive you a thousand times more if you help clean me up though.”

Matt smiles and nods his head as he slips off the bed, disappearing out of the room for a moment and returning with a wet towel. He sits between your parted legs, gently cleaning up the mess, whispering apologies and apologies every time you wince when he presses down on sensitive areas, thighs closing around his hand which he carefully pries open to resume his job. 

You sit in silence, watching him, frowning at the troubled look you see on his face, not used to seeing Matt being so closed off with his feelings and emotions, especially towards you. He hasn’t been open and honest with you in the past few weeks, he hasn’t come to you and asked for your reassurance or help. 

It makes you feel a little bit defeated. 

Something is different, and you struggle to pinpoint what it is.

The questions lay on the tip of your tongue, desperate to be brought to light and asked, and even more desperate to get the answers you’ve been craving. Your relationship with Matt has changed since the proposition you’ve made about sleeping together, but he’s still your best friend.

“What’s going on?” You finally ask and Matt freezes, fingers clutching the wet towel in his grasp tightly. “And please don’t lie to me… I can tell when you’re being truthful or not—”

“What am I to you?” Matt suddenly asks and you’re a little thrown off at your question being answered with his own question. He takes his hand away completely as you blink at him, feeling confused. “Even with all this going on… what am I to you?”

“You’re my best friend?”

Matt seems to frown deeply at that, “So nothing has changed? At all? Even with us sleeping together? I’m still your best friend?”

“Wh—of course!” You’re baffled, assuming that with the way Matt is speaking about your situationship, that he is worried that you have gained some negative feelings towards him. It hurts you, and you’re eager to reassure him, to let him know that everything is okay. “Matt, you’ll always be my best friend. We promised nothing would change, right? I’m keeping that promise.”

Matt closes his eyes as his shoulders sink in defeat, “I…” He drops his head with a sigh. “I can’t do this anymore.”

You bring your knees up to your chest, “Do what?”

“This,” He gestures between the two of you. “I just… I can’t. Not anymore. I can’t continue sleeping with you.”

“Oh.” You swallow thickly, feeling something heavy weighing in your throat. “Why?”

“Things have changed,” His voice is quieter now and it makes your heart shatter at the tone. Does he hate you? “I can’t continue whatever this is and be your best friend at the same time, it has to stop. It—” Matt sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” You mutter as your chin rests on your knees, hugging your legs closer to your chest to cover your modesty. You refuse to even look at him now, finding interest in the sheets below you as your throat tightens up more, feeling sick at the thought of him hating you so much that he can’t even continue sleeping with you. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me, but I—”

“Wait what?”

“—I’m just so sorry. Especially if I came across too forward and for putting you in such a position, I know you were so hesitant about this in the direct place.” You’re babbling now, unable to take control of yourself due to the overwhelming feeling that washed over you. “I’m so fucking sorry, Matt.”

“Wait… I don’t—”

“Can we not tell the others right now?” You raise your head to meet his eyes this time. He’s looking straight at you, confusion and disbelief swimming in his irises but you ignore it, chewing the inner skin of your cheek. “Mostly Nick. I don’t really want to hear him laugh in our faces and give us the whole ‘I told you so’ speech he threatened us with at the start.”

Matt calls out your name and extends his hand to touch you, but you’re already climbing off of the bed, searching around for your underwear and dress that was thrown across the room earlier.

You’re too embarrassed to continue on with the conversation, to ask him what exactly you did to make him grow to hate you so suddenly. Truthfully, you didn’t really want to dwell on it too much, the pain of losing someone like Matt already making your heart ache. 

You just wanted to go home—to be in the comfort of your own bed and curse yourself out, and probably cry to the point you might just forget everything that just happened. You are feeling a little teary, but you wouldn’t dare cry in front of Matt right now. 

“I’ll, uh, see you around or something,” You sniffle, shoving the heels onto your feet and casting one final look his way. “I’m sorry.”

It’s been almost two weeks since your last encounter with Matt.

You shouldn’t be avoiding him like you are. It’s childish, you know that. But you can’t force yourself to face someone who used to be your best friend and now seemingly hates your guts.

Maybe you should’ve waited a few more minutes, to give him enough time to explain the entire situation and how he was feeling but you were selfish, you didn’t want to hear him explain in full detail what you had done to make him change his feelings towards you so negatively. 

You miss him. Of course you miss him. For years he’s been your best friend—your other half, more like. There was no you without Matt and vice versa. You weren’t exactly sure on how you could continue moving on without Matt by your side, as dramatic as it sounds… but you’ve always been a little dramatic. 

His brothers, Nate and Tyler have been blowing up your phone—-courtesy of you ignoring them too, not wanting to hear Nick rub it in your face on how the ‘friends with benefits bullshit’ you had with Matt actually did go to shit. You also didn’t want to hear the others continuously ask questions about what happened and what had changed. 

Even your roommate, someone who keeps herself out of your business and hardly ever bothers you, had cornered you one morning at breakfast, asking why you looked so glum and why the ‘shirtless and tattooed Boston fuckboy’ wasn’t joining you both anymore.

You’re not the type to let anyone know your worries, so you’re surprised when you find yourself explaining to your roommate about what happened in full detail.

She gave you an unimpressed look, calling you a little stupid for not staying behind and listening despite you letting it be known that you couldn’t bear to listen to why his feelings turned negative towards you. Your face twisted and turned, offended by her harsh words but you allowed yourself to let her talk and not interrupt even though you desperately wanted to.

“You jumped to your own conclusion,” She told you when she was collecting the dishes. “You know, for two close best friends who talk to each other every second of the day, you have some major miscommunication issues.”

So, that’s what leads you to now; you sitting alone in the living room with your phone in hand, staring down at yours and Matt’s chat with your thumb between your teeth, biting down on the skin anxiously as you try to figure out how to start a conversation, to let him know you’re ready to listen.

from you: i think we should talk….

from matt: good because im almost at your house anyway. I had to go get something.

from you: ???? u coming over

from matt: yes from matt: i was going to make you listen to me from matt: its kinda important kid. 

You snort at his message, sending a quick thumbs up emoji before throwing your phone to the side, awaiting his arrival. Your leg nervously shakes in the corner of your vision and your eyebrows knit together, placing your hand down on your knee and squeezing tight.

As if that will stop you from being nervous. 

You’re about to hear the reasoning behind why Matt's feelings had changed for you so negatively, nothing can prepare you for it. 

Just bite the bullet. Take it like a champ.

The rapid knocking on the door rips you out of your thoughts and your head slowly turns with a confused look sketched upon your features. Was that Matt? Matt never knocks—he freely walks in like it’s his own place usually, always making himself at home.

You push yourself up from the couch and make your way towards the front door, taking a peek through the peephole to see Matt’s form, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip with his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth nervously. You grow even more confused and concerned, pulling open your door to face him fully.

“Why did you knock—”

“Hate you?!” Matt suddenly cuts you off with a shout, startling you with the loudness of his tone. His eyes are wide as he stares at you, full of disbelief. “Hate you, I—fuck—how could I hate you?! I’d never hate you… god, you’re so frustrating sometimes.”

Your lips quirk upwards, “Nice to see you too?”

“I don’t hate you. At all. When I told you that things have changed, I didn’t mean anything bad by it… I pretty much meant the opposite…” Matt’s words trail off and before you can even get the chance to ask him to explain exactly what he means, air gets caught at the back of your throat and you struggle to speak as he pulls his hands from behind his back; a bag of candy in one and a handful of ripped up flowers in the other. Your heart thumps rapidly. “I’m going to tell you something and I just… I need you to listen to me.”

You barely whisper, “Okay.”

“Being in this friends with benefits relationship with you was not as easy as I thought it would be,” Matt tells you, his honesty making you pull your attention away from the gifts in his hands to meet his gaze. “We promised each other that we’re not going to involve any titles to make it complicated for us… yet here I am, standing in front of you with the same candy and flowers in my hand from when we first met, about to confess my fucking feelings to you, I’m so—”

“You’re rambling.” You cut him off, a smile creeping onto your lips.

“Yeah, of course I am,” Matt laughs at himself, shaking his head as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck before he straightens out, keeping his eyes on yours. “I fell for you. Hard. I think I sort of realised it on your birthday but I didn’t want to say anything just in case whatever I was feeling wasn’t what I thought it was… but when we were at that party and I saw you from across the room, talking with your friends, I realised how much I actually do fucking like you and that it wasn’t just my dick talking.”

You snort as you repeat, “Dick talking.”

“Shut up,” Matt smiles at you, his own laugh fleeting past his lips before he sighs, “I like you. I’m falling in love with you, and I get it if you want to reject me because of how fucking weird this whole thing turned out… but I would actually like to continue being with you, not just as a best friend but as your boyfriend.”

You’re too busy repeating his confession in your head to notice that Matt is waiting for an answer, bottom lips tucked between his teeth as he bites down nervously, visibly shaking out of excitement or fear due to the fact he just confessed his entire feelings—you weren’t sure which one was right.

The silence from you kills Matt and his face drops when you step forward to quietly take the flowers and candies out of his hands, taking a step back inside your house. His shoulders slump in defeat, taking your nonverbal response as a rejection to his proposal of him being your boyfriend.

He goes to turn around, to get the fuck off your doorstep and drive home, hoping that the intense embarrassment he feels coursing through his veins is enough to make him disappear.

But he freezes mid escape when he hears the rustling of you ripping open the pack of candies, spinning around to see you looking at him with the prettiest smile.

He watches, heart thumping wildly, stomach fluttering with nervousness and excitement as you extend your arm out, angling the bag in his direction and a grin spreads across his face, unable to control the happiness that bursts from within.

You’re giving him a treat, you’ve giving him a relationship.

©sturnioz

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Rafe attempts to get in your pants. Again. After he got you kicked out

Pt 1

pt 2

Suggestive. MDNI

It had been a few days, and John B had been thinking over his actions again and again. He regretted it, but then he didn’t. He didn’t know what to do in this situation, or what to feel.

Rafe, on the other hand, was loving how you depended on him right now. You had been distant, but Rafe would fix that. And of course he made sure you slept in the same bed with him, his bed. And today, he had managed to drag you outside, practically showing you off for all at the country club to see.

You had needed this money, though. John B and you were living off of stale food and barely running water. You had been so excited to show him, look, we can afford basic necessities now! But you didn’t even get the chance to tell him. You had sold your virginity, all for 2000 dollars. You were left wondering if it was worth it.

Rafe slowly realized, he had begun to fall in love. He didn’t even mean to. He hated every second of it.

He had been sweet for the past few days, you wondered why. Giving you space, letting you cry on his shoulder, kissing your tears and worries away.

He dragged you through the doors of the restaurant in the country club, sitting down with you. Some servers came up, and they turned to you. You ordered, looking back at Rafe now.

“Why’d you take me here?” You asked him suddenly, curious.

“I wanted us to start over.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I- I mean I feel bad, and I just- just wanna get to know you. Like, actually know you.” He leaned back in his chair, manspreading as he did so. “I mean, I’ve seen you naked but-“

You scoffed, what a gentleman. Other than the fact it looked like he just rolled out of bed, his word choices were interesting.

“Sorry. But, yeah. I mean, if you’ll let me.” He shrugged nonchalantly, glancing up at the waiter who handed him his food before looking back at you.

You thought for a moment of what to say. “I- Rafe-“

“It’s okay if you don’t. I get it, you know?” He shrugged, grabbing his fork and beginning to eat, shrugging.

“It’s just that-“

“Nah, nah, I get it. I’m- I’m big bad Rafe cameron, right? That it? And you’re just a-“ he laughed. “Just a pretty lil-“

You squirmed in your seat, he didn’t say anything as he just shook his head and ate. You decided to do the same.

It was silent until you got in the bed next to him, he glanced at you before turning the light off.

“Well, if you’re gonna sleep in my bed you don’t gotta be so far all the damn time, yknow? I’m not- not fucking contagious or something.”

That led to you guiltily moving closer, him feeling up on you, his bulge pressed against your ass. Your eyes widened, not sure what to do as his hands roamed your body.

“R- Rafe.” You stuttered out, voice a whisper.

“Tell me to stop.” He spoke lowly against your ear, breath hitting the shell of it.

You didn’t. You couldn’t. Because no matter what, somehow, Rafe had already put his claim on you, and he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

He chuckled when he didn’t hear you, and his hand slipped to under your waistband.

“So wet. This all for me?”

[rubyreduji]

reading and doing — ljh

summary: jihoon catches you reading fanfic about him

tags: smut (minors dni!), gn!reader, idol!jihoon, pre-established relationship, lowkey crack warnings: badly written dirty talk, small dick jihoon <3, explicit unprotected sex, dom(ish) jihoon, choking, restraint for a sec, spit used as lube, fingering, rough sex, fingers in mouth, creampie wc: 2.3k an: a meta ass fanfic. i tried to keep it gn so pls don’t mention the use of certain words okay bye

Woozi thrusts his thick, large juicy cock into your soaking wet pussy and you squeal in delight.

A giggle escapes from your throat as you read the sentence. You will never not be amused by how people like to describe Jihoon’s dick in their writing.

“What’s so funny over there?” Jihoon asks as he turns his desk chair to look at you where you sit on his studio couch. 

“Oh nothing,” you tell him, a small grin still plastered on your face. 

Jihoon knows better than that and stands up and walks over to you. Before you can react Jihoon plucks your phone out of your hand and looks at what you were reading. A look of confusion mixed with disgust appears on his face.

“What is this?”

You snatch your phone back from him. “Fanfiction. About you specifically.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Carats write stories about you, usually about you and them being a couple. The stuff I read is mostly sex stories, but some of the slice of life stuff is cute too,” you explain with a shrug.

“Sex stories?!” Jihoon now looks more worried than anything else.

“Yeah, they’re kinda funny. Everyone thinks you have a big dick.” You know your boyfriend isn’t insecure about his size, whether it’s his height or…other parts of him, but you still like to playfully tease him every once in a while.

“I don’t know why the Carats would want to write something like that.”

“It lets them be delusional about being with you, let them have it Jihoonie.”

“It sounds like something Mingyu would like. You know how he is about fan interactions.”

“Oh there’s a lot for Mingyu!” You tell Jihoon. “I don’t read them though of course, I only read yours.”

“That I also don’t get. Why even read them when you have the real thing.”

“Because it’s fun! I like to see how people characterize you. The one I’m reading is just for shits and giggles, but some of them are actually good. Here.” You scroll on your phone until you find your folder of saved fics and pull up one of your favorites.

Jihoon takes your phone from you and reads a couple of lines before scrunching up his face and shaking his head. “I still don’t get it. You can’t actually find stuff like this hot.”

“I don’t know, it kind of is. I know you better than anyone else so I can just put you in those situations. It’s fun. I read them when you’re away on tour.”

This gets another dramatic look out of Jihoon. “You do not.”

“I miss you okay! And you’re always busy so I just go to the next best thing. If it makes you feel better sometimes I’ll also put on Ruby when I’m masturbating and just listen to that to get off.”

“Okay and now this conversation has taken a whole new turn.”

You giggle. “C’mon Hoonie, just read this with me. It’ll be fun! Maybe you’ll even find you like them.”

“I’m not sure how I’ll find enjoyment in reading what someone else has written about me.”

“You need to take a break anyways, please!” You give him your best puppy dog eyes and Jihoon glares at you but sits down on the couch.

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this,” he grumbles.

“Because you love me. And you’re secretly curious.”

Jihoon moves so your body is between his legs, your back leaning against his front. His head rests on your shoulder as you hold the phone up to read the fic. 

“This is technically a few chapters into a series but I really enjoy the smut so if the plot doesn’t make sense, don’t mind it.”

“Y/N this ridiculous-”

“Shhh, just read.” 

Jihoon listens to you and you can tell he is actually reading the fic from the small grunts he lets out in reaction to the story. There’s a bit of plot at the start before it gets into the smut and Jihoon stops you at a moment when you can scroll to it.

“Do people really like this? They want to see me in these situations?”

“Oh come on Jihoon you know what the fans think of you. You can’t be totally oblivious. You read your comments and I know you have a burner Twitter.”

Jihoon doesn’t have a rebuttal for that and you smile knowing you’re right. 

“Y/N I really do have work I need to-”

“Wait no, this is the good part.” You lean all of your body weight on Jihoon so he can’t get up, even though you know realistically he’s strong enough to displace you if he really wanted to. Jihoon just huffs and allows you to keep him hostage.

You try not to giggle as you read the smut, especially because you can tell Jihoon is invested. The smut in the fanfic that you picked isn’t anywhere near how Jihoon actually acts in bed and you wish you could see his face to see if he’s either intrigued or disgusted.

“Do people actually think I’m this mean?” Jihoon finally says and you laugh.

“Some people. You can be kinda mean sometimes. I think on camera you come off as standoffish,” you say. “But a lot of people think you’re sweet too. Also people are just kinky like that and enjoy this stuff.”

“Do you? You know I’m nothing like this.”

“I think you’re perfect the way you are. Don’t think me reading this stuff is me actually wanting you to be like this, I just think it’s fun to picture you in different scenarios. I mean, if people wrote smut about me would you want to read it?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it, because that’s weird to think about,” Jihoon grunts.

“Getting defensive there Hoonie?”

“Just shut up and go back to reading,” Jihoon grumbles.

“Oh you want to go back to reading? So you like it?”

“I just want you to shut up.” 

You do shut up, but only because you want Jihoon to continue reading.

The fic is getting to your favorite part when things start to get really intense. You have to give props to the writer for really going in. You know that you would never be able to find such…colorful language to use to describe the things you and Jihoon get up to.

You can feel Jihoon shift behind you. A small smirk spreads on your face when you feel the smallest bit of bulge press into your lower back. Jihoon likes this. 

“You okay back there Jihoonie?” You wiggle your hips a bit and Jihoon lets out a huff that you’re pretty sure is hiding a moan. “Enjoying this?”

“No.” His voice sounds tense and he answered a little too quickly to not be suspicious.

“It’s okay if you do Ji. It’s a bit of an ego boost isn’t it? Knowing all these people find you’re hot. I know this fic is particularly well liked, it has nearly three thousand interactions on it, and then all of the people who have read it without interacting. Do you like that? Three thousand people want to fuck you Hoonie.”

“I-I don’t-”

“Even if you don’t find that hot, isn’t the actual story kind of sexy? Just imagine it’s you and me in this scenario. Don’t you wanna be tangled up together as you fuck my brains out?”

“Y/N,” Jihoon whines. “Stop.”

“Stop? Stop what? Teasing you? No, I think you like it, just like how you liked the fanfic. Doesn’t it sound fun? Don’t you wanna do mean things to me while telling me how pretty I am?”

“Th-”

“Admit it baby, you like thinking about putting your big, fat cock into me.” You know you’re taking a gamble with your choice of words but it seems to work because Jihoon finally breaks.

You feel Jihoon’s hand come up around your neck and slam your body back into his. “Maybe I do.” His mouth is right next to your ear and you have to admit you do let out a shudder. “You want me to do mean things to you?”

“I think you want to do mean things to me.”

“Maybe I do, what then?”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

That’s all Jihoon needs to flip you both over, position himself over you. You definitely were not expecting to awaken a new kink in Jihoon when you told him to read the fic with you, but you’re definitely not complaining.

Jihoon keeps his loose grip around the base of your neck as he leans down to lock his lips with yours. The kiss is harsh and hurried and it doesn’t take long for Jihoon to stick his tongue in your mouth. He licks at your mouth and you arch your body into his.

His body rests between your legs and you can feel him grind down against you, his dick already fully hard. Jihoon’s mouth pops off of yours with a loud smacking sound. His hand moves off of your neck and trails down your body before it makes it to the hem of your shirt. He pushes his hand up under it, his fingertips making contact with the warm skin of your stomach.

He rubs his palm over your waist before moving higher to grope at your chest. His finger flicks over your nipple and you moan. Jihoon chuckles at this.

“Clothes off,” he growls as he pulls away from you. You quickly comply, stripping down to nothing as Jihoon does this same.

His cock is already slick with pre-cum at the tip and you have the urge to get on your knees and suck him off. Jihoon doesn’t allow this though, as he pushes you back onto the couch. You’re definitely worked up yourself by now and Jihoon can tell.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“You’re one to talk,” you bit back. 

“Ah, but I’m the one in control here.” Jihoon grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. “Aren’t I?”

“Hoon-ah, please,” you beg.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

Jihoon grins. “Glady.”

Jihoon lets go of your hands and brings his fingers up to his lips. You watch as he spits on the digits before moving them down to play with your entrance. You buck your hips into his hand and Jihoon uses his other hand to push them back down.

After what feels like an eternity of teasing Jihoon finally pushes one finger into you and you let out a mewl. Jihoon pumps it in and out of you until you start to loosen up and then he shoves another one into you. He continues to do this over again until you’re finally adequately opened up.

“Ready for me?”

You nod and Jihoon lines his cock up to you and pushes in. It’s a comfortable, familiar feeling as Jihoon starts to rock his hips into you. Jihoon is buried balls deep into you when he grabs your leg and hikes up over his shoulder.

Whereas Jihoon is usually soft and slow with you, he’s now fast and hard as he slams his cock into you deeper and deeper. Jihoon has always been an adequate lover, but now you get what people mean by it’s not the size but how it’s used.

Jihoon locks one of his hands around your thigh, digging his fingertips into the fat there. You’re sure you’re going to bruise later, but you don’t care right now. His other hand reaches down and cups your jaw. His thumb swipe over your lower lip before pressing down.

“You right, you do look pretty like this,” Jihoon smirks down at you. This thumb presses harder into your bottom lip until Jihoon finally pushes it all the way into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue. “Next time I’m going to tie you up and make you choke on my cock.”

You whine around Jihoon’s thumb at the image. It’s a good thing Jihoon is blocking you from saying anything because you’re sure if you tried it would just be utter nonsense.

With the way Jihoon is cramming up your g-spot you know you’re not going to last much longer. Luckily it seems like Jihoon is close as well from the concentration displayed on his face.

“Fuck, gonna cum inside, yeah?” You just nod the best you can.

You’re expecting Jihoon to cum first, but your climax creeps up on you and suddenly your legs are shaking as your back arches up off the couch. Your eyes roll back into your head as you let out a wanton moan.

Seeing you fucked out thorougly makes Jihoon spill over the edge finally, his warm cum spilling into you. He stays in you for a moment to catch his breath. He leans down to press kisses to your bare shoulder, nipping at the skin as he does.

Once you two finally have recovered, Jihoon slowly pulls out of his. You can feel his cum slide out of you as he does and it makes you whimper a bit.

“You were so good for me,” Jihoon coos.

“So you liked it?” You grin at him.

He defeatedly nods. “Yeah, yeah I did.”

“Yay! See Hoonie, look at all the doors this has opened. Maybe we should read more fanfiction together.”

“No, nope. We discovered this one thing, no more.” With that Jihoon gets up to go get you some water and a rag to clean up with.

Despite his final protests, you still feel victorious as you grab your phone and scroll down to the comments of the fic you two were reading.

You’re not going to understand this, but thank you SO MUCH for writing this fic, you’re the best &lt;3

taglist: @pandorashbox @leejihoonownsmyheart @soonhoonietrash @chaimi-yuta @embrace-themagic @kayleeshinee @joonsytip @heyxxitsxxtay @synthetickitsune @chwecardcaptor @candidupped @dreamhannies @d0nghyck @niyizh @baldi-2 @enhacolor @noniestars @heavenly-mobo @sunnyteume @debsworld23 @m1nghaos @just-here-to-read-01 @blxckswxnxge @17kwans @jeanjacketjesus @x-veex @namjoonbaby @ovai @belladaises @todorokiskitten @jihoonliker @valentxi @1694 @niktwazny303 @brxzilianbaby @moshiyuron @im-gemmy @honeylovemoon @wonchansbrooklynn @opwolfe @luvthatleader-nim @cbgisland @lorde-oftherings @hoeforcheol @hotricewoozi @prpldahy @nox-writes @wujihoons @0717luv @yeosayang @marzmeltdown @calvinkleinhoon

join my taglist: here!

[reiderwriter]

discard this request if it isnt your style but it might be funny

bdsm and kink culture reader with vanilla spencer. r is being super 🌶 and spencer is not understanding (maybe r teaches him and he gets really into it)

Vanilla Spencer is so fucking funny to me, because given the chance this man could have the most fucked up sexual habits of anyone in the BAU but he also seems like the type of guy who would be like "idk people get murdered with shit like this" you know 😭 anyway, here's the fic, hope you enjoy, anon!

Summary: You want to spice up your bedroom activities with Spencer, but he's just not getting it.

Warnings: BDSM themes, vanilla! Spencer into soft! Dom Spencer, mentions of spanking, some dry humping, dirty talk, daddy kink mentioned. 18+ MINORS DNI

Here's my masterlist and my requests are open!

“Oh, what are you gonna do about it? Gonna spank me?”

“Actually, no study has found physical punishment to have a long-term positive effect, and most studies have found negative effects, with children who undergo physical punishment found to grow up to be more aggressive adults.”

You really weren’t sure what you were expecting from your boyfriend.

So far your sex life together had been pretty vanilla. He was an absolute gentleman, making sure to gain your consent everytime he tried something new. He was soft and sweet, and quite honestly, one of the best you’d had in your life because of how attentive he was to your body language.

But recently, you’d been aching for something a little more interesting, to say the least.

“Oh but I’ve been such a bad little girl.” You try again, hoping that he gets the idea this time.

“You shouldn’t think like that, baby, you know you’re doing a great job at work, and if there’s anything you’re struggling with, we can talk it through, okay?” You want to rip your hair out in frustration.

“No, god, Spencer, I want…” you let out a groan and pick yourself up from your chair, choosing instead to climb into his lap and make it more obvious.

“Do you remember that case we took two weeks back? All the couples had some pretty interesting private lives?” You wrapped your hands around his neck and started grinding down on his lap, hopeful that he’d get the idea.

“The family annihilator that went after couples engaging in the BDSM lifestyle? The one who was so traumatised by the discovery of his parents hobbies that he started murdering couples with families that looked like his own?” He still seemed a little confused but he grabbed your hips, aware of the direction this was heading in, at least.

“Heinous murderer aside, were you not at all intrigued by some of the research we had to do?” You pushed your hips down into his again and again, but now you could feel his reciprocation from beneath his slacks.

“Are you talking about the japanese rope bondage, or the dog leashes, specifically?” Spencer teased you, as his hands started trailing up and down your back.

“Spencer don’t tease….”

“No, I’m really curious, what was it that you wanted me to do first?” Spencer was smirking now, and whilst you were happy he was finally picking up what you were putting down, you weren’t exactly excited to have to voice your needs.

“I want you to….I want you to, ummm…..” Your mind was going blank now, because one of Spencer’s hands was now under your skirt drawing small circles, moving closer and closer to your centre.

“Oh that's right, you wanted me to spank you, right baby?” You couldn’t hold back the moan as you felt him finally touch you where you needed him.

“Oh, you like that idea, do you? Want me to throw you over my lap and ruin your nice little ass until you can barely sit.” You were grinding desperately into his fingers now, wishing that he’d make the final move and push your panties aside.

“Use your voice, baby, you know we can’t go any further unless I hear you say what you want.”

“Fuck, fuck, touch me, fucking touch me now.”

“How about we try saying that a little bit nicer this time?” He makes to move his hand away and you whimper - you actually fucking whimper - at the loss of contact, obviously enjoying this a little bit more than you thought you were.

So you partially blamed your unconscious need for him on the next set of words to escape your mouth.

“Fuck me, daddy.”

His hands stilled completely and your eyes shot open, immediatley looking into his darkened ones.

“What did you just call me?” You felt his hips shift under yours and knew you finally fully had him.

“I called you daddy.” You whispered, your lips moving closer and closer to his, practically begging for some more attention.

Instead, he pushed you off him, and you fell unceremoniously onto the floor while he stood and straightened his clothes.

“I want you on the bed, ass up and legs spread for me. What kind of daddy would I be if I denied my little girl, right?” he smirked down at you.

It was going to be a fun night.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six

TW: violence, choking, mentions of bdsm, abuse of authority, cops, unfair power dynamics, harassment, body fluids and drug use mentions, mentions of harm/accidents

For California, it’s a bit chilly out this morning. The sun is getting a lazy late start, just beginning to yawn golden orange and fiery yellow over the horizon. Julian’s hair in that light is the high shine of fashion magazine model locs, and you’re, as usual, opening your mouth before you think. “What shampoo and conditioner do you use?”

He seems thoroughly amused. “Honestly? You’re going to be mad about it.” 

“Try me,” you prod, slipping inside his little sports car that smells like lemon air freshener and coffee. 

He seems a little cramped in the seat, knees bent up and head almost touching the ceiling, and you wonder if he actually even tried to get into this thing before buying it. 

“It’s a rental,” he explains.

“Did you get into an accident?”

“A truck hit mine while it was parked.” 

“How are you so calm about that? I’d punch someone.” 

He looks over at you with a sculpted, raised brow. “I just cannot imagine you hurting a fly, y/n.” 

“Flies are innocent, truck drivers are free game.” 

He gives you a big laugh that strokes the flame of your ego. “You’re hilarious. I use men’s body wash.” 

“What?” Okay, he’s right, you are a little mad. You use shampoo and conditioner that are specifically supposed to soften your hair, but the poof on your head absolutely pales in comparison to his soft, beautiful mane that gets the luxury of … what? Old spice? Axe body wash? 

“I told you,” he sings, turning on the engine. 

Genetics is a bitch. 

He takes you to a fancy little French inspired coffee shop cuddled into the center of an outlet mall with salt lamps and big ferns and comfy chairs. You settle into a nook closests to the sunned windows so Julian can keep an eye on his rental, which is understandable. No part of LA is good to have a Porsche in, but especially not the inner city. 

“This is delicious,” you tell him through a mouthful of warm croissant, covering your lips in embarrassment when you realize that your table manners are less than adequately prepared for a date with a doctor. 

“They have the best coffee,” he agrees, taking a sip of his steaming latte. 

You don’t have time to stop your brain from comparing Julian to a certain cop you know who prefers his coffee black and bitter, or at least that’s what he told you when he saw you drinking your vanilla cream cold foam at the nurse’s station. 

Julian is talking, you think, and you’re only half listening while you remember how Tom had snatched that drink right out of your hands and held it up in the air. 

“Give it back!” You hissed, reaching up on tiptoes while he laughed at the pathetic rescue attempt. 

“Careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself for this pathetic excuse of caffeine. What is it anyway? Is there even coffee in here?” 

After he walked away with his discharge paperwork, your coworkers were understandably curious about the tall, puckish cop who fucked with you any chance he got. 

Miguel watched his ass move the whole way down the hallway and out the glass exit doors while literally clutching the rosary under his scrub shirt as if a devil had just walked by, then looked over at you. “What a man.”

“Are you alright?” Julian asks, bringing you back to the present conversation with a hand over your forearm. He does seem concerned, and it makes you feel like a piece of shit. This guy is a gentleman and here you are on a date with him fantasizing about the brute that is Tom Ludlow. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You wave away his concern. “Tell me about you, Julian. What do you do for fun? Doctor-by-night, Violin-player-by-morning? 

He chuckles. “Nothing that cultured. I like riding motorcycles.”

“Really?” You ask, genuinely surprised and trying to imagine Julian in a gang of bikers with cracked leather skull and snake jackets. 

“I love them.” He nods. “I have three that I take for long rides along the coast. You get lost in it, the wind and salt and sand. The rumble of the engine under you.”

“I’ve never been on one,” you tell him, “and I’m honestly surprised you ride them after what we see in the ER. Don’t you remember that guy that had his calf hanging on by a tendon? Or that woman who had half her face missing?” 

“Yes, I do. But I go the speed limit and wear the proper gear. And I like the thrill.” 

It’s not just the casual t-shirt and worn jeans or the way the light halos his thick silk nest of hair or the roguish grin that makes you see Julian in an entirely new way, now. “You’re wild, Dr. Mercer.”

He licks spilled cream at the ridge of his coffee cup, rubs at the skin of your forearm with his fingers, and winks. You wonder what he would look like between your legs doing the same thing, except with your fingers gripping that luscious hair. 

“You should let me take you for a ride, sometime,” he suggests, and for a minute you forget you’re talking about motorcycles. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Julian.”

“C’mon.” He nudges your knee under the table and relaxes back into his seat, now reminding you too much of someone else you know. Same height, same hair color, same facial structure. 

Fuck. Really? 

“Good boyfriends take their girlfriends on long, romantic motorcycle rides.” 

“But you’re not my boyfriend.”

His smile droops a little bit and it makes you feel bad for being so illiterately ignorant. Well, you feel bad until he opens his mouth. “I am, though.”

He paints it playful, but it sounds a little bit pushy-bossy, even. “I don’t know about that, either, Julian.”

He tries a different angle. “You know, believe it or not, most women would consider me quite the catch.” 

You hope your face doesn’t betray the little bit of ick you get from him saying something so egotistical. “I don’t doubt it, and you deserve someone that can give you what you’re looking for.” 

“You think you can’t give me what I’m looking for?” He leans across the table in sudden intensity, and you balk at the notion. 

“No, I honestly don’t.”

“Why?”

You start to say something, but he cuts you off. “And, I really mean why? Why can’t you give me what I’m looking for? Enlighten me.” 

“I’m not-I have too much baggage.” You unconsciously lean away from his swelling intensity. 

“That’s a little vague.” He frowns. 

“I’m not normal, Julian. You seem like you would like normal women.” You cringe at the childish sentiment, but truly have no idea how to get the point across except for basically telling him that you’re a freak with a bad past and worse coping mechanisms. You eat slices of bread for dinner and drink out of the milk carton. Julian probably irons his shirts. This will not work. 

“You’re assuming I’m normal?”

“Yes. I guess I am.” You lean back and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Well, I’m not. In fact, I’ll prove it to you.” He takes out his wallet, pulls a laminated card from it, and slides it over the table to you. 

“What..” It’s a little red card framed in black with big bold letters on the front advertising a BDSM club in the heart of downtown Venice. “What is this?” 

“BDSM is bondage, domination-“

“I know what that is,” you interrupt. “I just meant.. You go here?”

“I do.” He nods and takes a drink. “I occasionally engage in scenes.”

You decide that you should coat your suddenly very dry mouth and drink a big gulp of your coffee. “Like with a dominatrix?”

He laughs at you, puts his head in his hand and shakes his head. “No. I prefer to be the dominant one.” 

You look at-really, really look at this man for the first time and honestly cannot imagine him taking that role. 

He must see the confusion on your face, because his laughter grows. “That’s the usual reaction I get.”

Curiosity killed the cat. Curiosity killed the-you know what, fuck it. 

“So, what do you do at the club?” 

“A typical play scene, you mean?” How in the hell he can be so casual and relaxed about this you’re not sure. Because you can already feel the cold sweat breaking along your shoulders and neck. 

“I guess? Yeah.”

“Well, ideally the woman is tied up in some fashion, and of course there’s a safe word, negotiated limits. Perhaps a punishment scenario with pain play. Are you okay?” 

He looks at your table-clutching, white knuckled hands, searches your face, giving you a genuine concerned expression that makes you wonder what actually is going on with you right now. You feel like you're on a tightrope over a ravine of crocodiles and Julian’s on the other end lazily sawing at the rope with dull scissors.

“I’m fine,” you say breathily, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about all that.”

His gentle smile is nothing less than kind, though maybe also, a little disappointed. “I get that a lot too.”

“Is that…the only way you enjoy sex?” you ask quietly, leery of the blue-haired old lady just two tables away.

“No,” he seems happy to tell you. “Though it is…the way I enjoy sex most.”

You blink, digesting this with understandable trepidation. He’s basically telling you that it would be impossible to be in a relationship with him without dipping into this eventually. And you…? 

Are definitely intrigued, and you’re not really sure why.

“You said you have baggage,” Julien probes cautiously. You can feel him looking at you, but you’re not quite up to eye contact with him yet. You fix your gaze out the window. “Well, I do too. I haven’t had a perfect life. No one does, and I’m not interested in a perfect girlfriend. I like you, y/n.”

You feel your breath go out in an audible whoosh. It actually makes him smile-you feel it like rays of the sun. How can this man be so warm, and yet have such a dark side?

Well, maybe it’s not a dark side, you reason. Maybe it’s just…a thing he likes, and between consenting adults, what’s the harm?

“So…” You can’t help but think about how odd this is, discussing this in this coffee shop filled with mild-mannered caffeine addicts. What you really want to ask, is what happened to him that makes him like this kind of sexual play, but you know it would be too far, and you damn well don’t feel like talking about your own fucked up past. But there is something you do feel you have a right to know. “Is this something you want to do to me?” 

Again, he fixes you with that bad boy smirk that gives you chills and utterly ruins your panties. “Since the moment you stood up to me over that patient,” he admits. And maybe that should alarm you, that he wants to tie you up and hurt you for being defiant about something that deserved defiance. It does alarm you, but… It also… It sounds a little thrilling. “In fact-“

Julian and the rest of the world and even your own thoughts disappear when you meet a pair of familiar, sun tinted eyes out the window of the coffee shop. He’s grinning-when is he not grinning at you like he knows what it does to your helpless insides?-and licking his fingers, tearing off a yellow parking ticket to slap it under the windshield of Julian’s rental.

“Uh, Julian-“ 

“Just let me finish,” Julian insists. His bossy tone irritates you, but Tom brightens the mood by making a jerking off motion towards the doctor, and then winking at you. 

You can’t help but laugh. It’s honestly involuntary, the loud wheeze that tears from your chest and makes Julian look outside to see the yellow ticket shining under his wiper as Ludlow’s ass saunters away. 

You’re not sure what Julian’s plan is when he storms outside to catch Ludlow by the arm, but you’re definitely following ten strides behind to prevent his untimely death. 

“I’m parked legally.” His voice is a menacing growl instead of the smooth honey you’re used to, and yeah, maybe now you can see a little bit of that Dominant Persona he was talking about. 

“Not after 9AM,” Tom says, unbothered by Julian’s anger, still grinning like an idiot. 

“It’s eight-thirty,” Julian argues, tugging on Tom’s sleeve-that earns him a bent back arm and even the appearance of handcuffs. 

“Tom, stop it, fucking really?” 

“Sorry, honey, your boyfriend’s going to jail.” 

“For what?!” You and Julian both demand at once. 

“Putting his pristine fucking hands on what’s mine.” Tom tugs Julian up on his toes and clicks one handcuff into place. 

You hope he means his uniform, but you have a feeling he doesn’t. 

“That’s way too tight and you know it,” Julian grunts. 

“What, someone likes to dish it out but can’t take it? Don’t be a bitch,” Tom muses, grabbing Julian’s other arm and twisting it-not gently-behind his back. 

“Tom, you fucking dickhead.” 

He looks at you as he’s putting the other cuff on your date. “Oh, I’ll deal with you later.” His grin looks more like a snarl at this point, and you think that Julian could probably take some pretty good Dom pointers from Tom, because your heart is galloping and your clit is pulsing despite the absolute absurdity of the situation. Also-it's a miracle-your sassing mouth has snapped shut. 

After Officer Ludlow practically throws Dr. Mercer into the back of his Charger, slamming the door, he turns to you with a smirk and his thumb in his belt. Goddammit, if that fucking look doesn’t go straight to your lady parts.

“Tom…you cannot do this.” 

A tow truck has pulled up, and is in process of impounding the sweet little Porsche.

He steps up to you in those big black boots that make him a mile tall.

“You’d be surprised what I can and cannot do, sweetheart.”

“Please.” You hate how desperate you know you sound. 

He taps his chin. “Well, I do like the sound of that. But it would be a lot more convincing if you got on your knees and said it.”

“You asshole,” you seethe, even as you can feel the moisture pooling between your legs.

“That kinda language definitely isn’t going to get Doctor Bitch Boy out of my car.”

“What the fuck do you want then?” You know it was a stupid question the moment it flies from your mouth. He’s going to reply with something filthy, and demeaning, and-

“Have dinner with me.”

You’re going to need another tow truck just to get your jaw up off the ground. 

“You’re going to get in trouble for this,” you say. “This isn’t harassing a lowly broke-ass nurse. He is going to sue the shit out of you.”

Tom just snorts at that, unimpressed. “Did you know your friend likes to hang out at a BDSM club in Venice Beach? Whips and chains and shit? Bet this asshole has mommy issues from here to Pasadena. Come on, y/n, you don’t need that in your life.”

It almost sounds like he’s…worried about you?

Officer Ludlow has no idea how badly he’s misjudged you, now that he’s pissed you off. “Maybe I like it,” you snipe back, stretching up so you’re almost in his face. “Fact is, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Ludlow just narrows his eyes down at you, those dark orbs glinting like sharp obsidian. “Well, sorry, guess he’s not tying you up tonight, baby. He’s gotta cool down in the tank.”

He makes to go, but you reach out, not grabbing him, per se, but just touching his chest. He freezes, and you can practically feel him vibrating beneath your hand. With excitement, because he fucking lives for being an asshole, or…you hate to think you know the real answer.

His mitt of a hand covers yours, holding it just above his heart.

“Tom….” Caught up in this tension between you, you’re not even sure what you’re asking now. 

You expect him to say something dirty, or snide, but instead you swear that just for a moment, his gaze softens as he looks down at you. “Dinner?” he asks again, with a note of hope in his voice that is almost endearing, if he wasn’t being such a class A jerk.

“I can’t.”

His demeanor changes in less than a second, drawing up to his full height, his shoulders squared. He flicks down his sunglasses that were on his head, so you can no longer even see his eyes. His voice changes, drops an octave, something. The authority in it makes you shudder inside. “Wave to Dr. Bitch Boy, y/n, we’re going for a little ride.”

Before you can grab him, or do anything, really, Tom is behind the wheel, speeding off with a very pissed off Julian in the back seat.

Your heart drops to your feet as you are left standing there alone on the sidewalk without a ride, and completely at a loss as to what to do.

***

“I’m going to fucking sue you,” Julian grits, kicking the back of Tom’s seat for good measure. 

“Yeah, yeah, with your doctor money,” Tom grumbles, taking a big swig of coffee with one hand and steering recklessly with the other because it’s fun to watch that skinny fuck bounce around helplessly in the seat. 

“I’m not getting booked tonight, Officer Ludlow. I’m calling my fucking lawyer.”

“Sorry, Doctor Bitch, your Lawyer’s busy until tomorrow afternoon, didn’t you hear?”

“You son of a-“

Tom gasses the car over a big pothole and it sends Julian flying into the opposite door. It’s a sight he could almost get off to.

Julian, big goose egg swelling up on his temple, gets yanked out of the squad car and tossed on the shit smeared, needle peppered streets of South Central. “They probably need you here more than the hospital, Doctor. Have fun–”

“Wait! Fuck. I’m still cuffed for fuck’s sake!” Tom gives the little guy credit for being able to get up on his feet so fast with his hands behind his back and a probable minor concussion. “You can’t leave me here.”

Tom pauses with his hand on the lip of the hot car door, but only to memorize the sight of a sweat-stained, wild eyed, trembling distinguished doctor about to get his shit wrecked on the mean LA Streets. He’s guessing Julian’s never visited much outside of Hollywood, Venice, and Santa Monica, and the cute little horrified expression on his face is testament to that. 

Tom taps the hood of his car. “See ya, Doc.” 

“You know,” Julian says, “this isn’t going to stop me from seeing her, Tom.” 

Well, if he wants a fight. 

Tom slams the charger door, whips off his belt, backs Julian up until he falls on his ass into a steaming puddle of unknown origin, and loops the leather around his neck. 

He tugs him up by the belt, onto his toes, eliminating that fraction of height difference just so he can see the whites of this prick’s eyes. 

He doubles the wrap of the belt in his fist, and Julian sputters something unintelligible through a thick choke. 

“What’s wrong? Thought you liked this shit?” Tom pretends to wait for an answer that he prevents. “Oh, that’s right, you like being the one doing the choking. That gets your dick wet, huh? Beating on women?” 

He wants nothing more than to choke this fucker unconscious and leave him on the streets for the hepatitis rats to chew on his toes, and, fuck it, if he ends up passing out by the time Tom’s done saying his peace, then so be it. 

“You can see her all you want, asshole. Take her on as many dates as you like. But if I see one fuckin’ bruise on her-one red mark on that pretty skin-I’m gonna make the rest of your short life very fucking unpleasant. Comprende?” 

[highvern]

Teach Me IV

extra credit

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au, frat!svt

Warnings: mentions of drug use (weed) and alcohol , phone sex, exchange of nudes, both are down horrendous, mutual masturbation, making out, dry humping, idiots in like, dokyeom has a praise kink and isn't ashamed, snippets of disgusting fluff

Length: ~5.1k

Note: ugh ... anyways! i know i mentioned potential angst in an ask but i'm weak

read more here

The best part of starting Fall Break on a Friday is having to do absolutely nothing for five blissful days. But because he is easily swindled by his friends, Dokyeom is ass over tits and the clock hasn’t even chimed 8PM. After the incredibly awkward week following your latest tryst, he’s thankful for the mind numbing freedom of alcohol, weed, and nothing but miles of mountain and woods.

Or he would be if wasn’t still upset you turned down his invitation to join him this weekend.

So he sneaks into his room and pulls up your Instagram. You're at the top of his results when he clicks into the search bar.

You posted a new photo this afternoon. A memory of a girls night out, sandwiched between two of your friends outside some bar, nothing but wide drunk smiles and closed eyes under the flash of the camera. Dokyeom already saw it. Already liked it. 

He keeps scrolling, down down down till he reaches his favorite picture. A frozen memory of you outside some cafe, slumped in an iron wrought chair, sunglasses obscuring half of your face; your mouth is spread over a wild guffaw, teeth flashing and the corner of your lips arched high in amusement. Whatever had amused you pulled your entire body in, shoulders curved up as your chest caves, chin tipped back. 

The soft pink sundress hugging you snugly is an added bonus. 

And somewhere in his muddled mind, Dokyeom decides he needs to talk to you. Right. Now.

After the third ring, the call connects.

“Heyyy, pretty lady.”

“Oh my god, are you drunk?” You laugh, and Dokyeom can imagine the same expression from the photo flashing across your face. 

God, she even sounds pretty. He thinks.

He whines through the goofy smile plucking the corners of his lips, “Nooooo.”

“Oh, really?”

“Maybe I’m a little drunk.”

“Only a little?” You jest.

“Maybe a lot-tle.”

“I can tell.”

“Wish you were here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Haven’t seen you in like a week.”

If he wasn’t wasted then he might feel embarrassed, but Dokyeom finds the words slipping past him without a second thought as he rocks back and forth, caught in waves of emotion.

“How’s the cabin been so far?” 

The sudden change in topic scratches unpleasantly but he lets it go.

“Would be more fun if you were here.” He confesses. “What are you up to?”

“Laying in bed, watching Love Island.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Seriously?” You scoff.

“What?” 

“You’re so lame, Kyeom.”

“I’m curious about what you do when you’re alone.” He tries to sound innocent. “You’re alone, right?”

“Yeah, Ava left for the weekend.”

“So what are you doing this weekend?”

He’s fishing for the real reason you told him you couldn't come with him to the cabin. You’d been purposefully vague the few times Dokyeom probed since last Thursday, claiming any excuse under the sun: a friend coming to visit, getting ahead on assignments, pulling a few extra shifts at the library. Anything to avoid flat out rejection.

“You know, this and that. What about you guys? Any big plans?”

“Some of the guys mentioned a hike tomorrow. And Beer-lympics Sunday.”

“God, you’re such a frat bro.”

“I can do better.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. What are you wearing?” He tries again.

He hears you huff, “Pajamas.”

“Sexy.”

“I actually think this is your shirt.”

“Oh? Send me a pic.”

“What do I get if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“Are you hard?”

“I can be.”

“I’ll send you a picture if you send me one too.”

“Fuck, okay.” He agrees, tapping open his camera app and trying out a few angles, working himself up in the process.

Dokyeom settles for cupping the bulge over his pants, outline of his cock pronounced as he lightly squeezes. He’s highly aware of your obsession with his hands, so he tries to flex his arm forcing the web of veins to rise as the muscles clench.

“I’m waiting.” You goad on the other end of the phone, knocking him out of his concentration.

The five photos he’s snapped all look about the same. Settling on the least blurry one, he quickly opens your messages and sends it before changing his mind.

A sharp inhale announces its arrival on your phone. 

“Your turn.” 

He can hear the rustle of clothes and blankets through the speaker, and a whispered curse following a dull thud. Dokyeom can’t help the chuckle that escapes as he pictures whatever caused it.

The photo you send back takes him a second to decipher. You're definitely wearing his shirt, the bottom hem bunched across your breasts, the swells of flesh peaking out near the top of the picture; perfectly omitting your face. Tracing down your bare stomach, your hips are wrapped in powdery blue cotton panties. And if that wasn’t enough, one hand is stuffed underneath, pulling the elastic taunt across the crease in your hip as it stretches to accommodate your fingers.

Holy shit.

“You like it?”

“You're evil.” Head rolling back, Dokyeom groans as he takes it all in. “You want me dead.” 

You giggle at his tone.

“Fuck,” he mutters, continuing to study your figure. “You’re so hot.”

“Kyeomie,” you whine, obviously embarrassed under his attention.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Yeah,” you mewl.

“Dirty girl.”

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

The back and forth of your relationship is the funnest part, in Dokyeom’s opinion. You like when he puts you in your place as much as he enjoys you putting him in his. It helps that even when he assumes the more dominant role, you still praise him as if he’s the best thing since sliced bread. It scratches that submissive part of his brain that always wants needs to be good. Especially for you.

“I can think of a few things.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Phone sex is unfamiliar territory. He isn’t sure how much is too much and the awkward parting last week still stains his brain. But you just sent him a photo with your hands down your underwear so Dokyeom tries to go with the flow.

“Could make you cry on my cock.” He flushes when you remain silent for a second too long . “Sorry, that felt awkward.”

“No!” You object, voice crackling through the speaker at the sharp increase in volume. “It, ugh, that’s hot.”

“What? Crying from my dick?”

“You don’t think so?”

Dokyeom’s cock twitches, as if to signal its eager agreement.

“I think anything involving you near my penis is hot so I’m not really a good judge.”

“Well, just imagine it. Remember that time we fucked at Wonwoo and Mingyu’s house party?”

“Not appreciating you saying other dudes’ names while my dick is in my hand but yeah.”

You snicker at his reprimand. “Anyway. Remember how I wanted you to fuck my mouth?”

Dokyeom takes a sharp inhale as the memory rushes forward. You on your knees, eyes glossy and lips bruised, begging him to stretch your throat. The second the request reached his ears Dokyeom nearly came on your sweater covered chest, but he’d ignored your request, hauling your ass up onto the counter in favor of stuffing your cunt. You hadn’t complained.

“But you wouldn’t because you didn’t wanna mess up my makeup?”

“You looked pretty… didn’t wanna ruin it.”

“Yeah but I wanted you to.”

Another squeeze of his cock as he slips his hand under his boxers, “Yeah?”

“You’re really hot when you tell me what to do.”

“Fuck.” He groans, vocabulary limited by the husky timbre of your voice. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Mhhmm, doesn't feel as good as when you do it though.”

A pathetic thrust through his fist at the praise. “I know but I’ll make it up to you next time. Promise.”

“How?”

“Might tie you up. Fuck you till your screamming.” Dokyeom doesn’t know who he’s become but you seem to like it.

“Oh?”

Your reply is all breath, the same way you sign when he gives you his fingers after a long study session. The beads of pre-cum on his tip increase as he works his cock, almost able to fill the way you’d coat his fingers if he was there to give them to you.

“You like that? Want me to use your tight little pussy? Fill it up?”

“Want you to come inside me again, Minnie. So hot.”

“I know, pretty girl. So desperate for it aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” you squeak, “Are you close?”

“Send me another picture.”

Only a few seconds pass, filled with muffled groans on his end and the clack of your nails on yours. Dokyeom rushes to open the new attachment you’ve blessed him with, heart clenching when his stomach caves around a moan.

The photo is blurry from your haste but he doesn’t care. You're drenched. The crotch of your panties tinged darker as you pull them aside, flashing the way your entrance stretches around three of your fingers. Your clit just barely visible, puffy and swollen from neglect.

“Fuck, baby.”

“Minnie—” Your voice sounds far away, and he realizes you've put yourself on speaker so you can use both hands.

“Can you do something for me?” he grounds, squeezing the base of his cock to stop his impending end.

“Anything.”

Another deep breath before he lays himself bare, “Drive up here tomorrow.”

“What?” You ask, the springs of your mattress squeaking as you sit up, clearly confused by the switch in pace.

“I wanna see you.”

“I—”

“Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” Dokyeom scrambles.

Another pause before a timid, “How?”

“Whatever you want.” 

“Dangerous words.”

“Pretty sure I’ll enjoy it just as much as you.”

“I don’t know…”

“If you don’t want to, it's fine but,” he sighs, “if you can I want you to come. And not just because of sex.”

“Then why?” 

“Because I like—” He cuts himself off hastily. “Because I like spending time with you.”

As seconds tick by without response, Dokyeom is sure you're going to call his bluff. Or worse, laugh in his face. He’s sweating, heart beating irregularly as he waits for your reply.

“Really?” Shyness creeps into your voice.

Dokyeom nods before realizing you can’t see him. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll come.”

“Really?” Dokyeom asks, eyes wide and jaw slack. No way it's this easy.

“Really,” he can hear you smile. “But only because you said you’d give me whatever I want.”

“You’re gonna make me regret that aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” You tease, enunciating each syllable as his heart beats in time. “But Kyeomie…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m still wet.”

“Can’t have that.” He tsks.

“Please,”

“Be a good girl and play with your clit.” Dokyeom instructs, slipping right back in.

A hitch in your breath precludes a satisfied “hmmm”. He wishes he could taste both on his tongue. 

“Touch yourself too.” You plea.

Dokyeom’s wound so tight a gust of wind would have his load all over his stomach. He tells you as much.

“Shiiit” You curse, catching up to him. “Close.”

“Yeah? Think you deserve it?”

If he was there, Dokyeom knows he’d see the frustrated kick of your legs and feel the daggers shooting from your eyes.

“You ignored me all last week, I don’t know if I should let you.”

“Dokyeom, please!”

“But since I get to see you tomorrow.” he tuts, covering up the catch of his breath as you plea again. “Let me hear it.”

The call devolves into choked curses and groans. He keeps the screen close to his face as he focuses back on the picture you sent, painting his fist with streaks of white as you beg him to cum, choke on how much you want to taste. Your stuttered “ah”s floating right into his ears as you twist and shake in your bed hours away.

When Dokyeom can feel himself returning to his body, he soaks in the lull of you catching your breath.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” You sigh dreamily.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Send me the address.”

“Oh and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m happy you’re coming…”

“Goodnight,” you chuckle at the double entendre.

“Night.”

Even with the satisfaction of an orgasm coursing through his veins, the fizzing bubbles of happiness in his chest have nothing to do with the cum cooling in his underwear.

--

The drive to the cabin is two hours and thirty seven nerve wrecking minutes. Dokyeom has been up since six, texting you the address, asking you to let him know when you left, keep him updated on any pit stops you needed to make. Not to rush up the mountain and drive safely. 

The digital clock on your dash reads just past noon as you slowly creep up a narrow gravel road, praying another car doesn’t swoop around the bend. Of course a pack of frat boys would choose some creepy woods to set up camp for a long weekend. 

You dial Dokyeom’s number just to be safe. Barely a full ring passes before he picks it up.

“Hey!”

“Hey… I think I’m pulling up to the right place?” You scan for any sign of a driveway on either side of the road without any luck. 

“Oh shit, I’ll come outside. Jun got us lost yesterday when he drove up so it’s tricky.”

Taking a left as you finally spot the red mailbox with a beaver carved into the dark wooden post at the end of the lengthy driveway, a two story cabin comes into view between the trees. Dokyeom jogs from the porch to meet you at the edge of the yard. Rolling down your window as he makes his way over, you greet him.

“Hey,”

“Hey,” he smiles, bright enough to blind a village.

“Um, where should I park?” 

“Just pull up behind anyone, it doesn't matter.”

“Alright.” 

Dokyeom walks next to you as you pull in behind a white sedan. Once in park, you pop the trunk before slipping out the door. He already has your bag tossed over his shoulder, tangling your fingers with his as he pulls you towards the house.

“Some of the guys went on a hike earlier so I’ve been helping Seungkwan and Mingyu clean up.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to wait for me.”

“I wanted to.”

Before you can think too much on that statement, Seungkwan interrupts by tackling you in a hug. 

“Oh thank god you’re here.” 

“Hi to you too.” You say, carrying his weight as he goes boneless.

“Hi,” he responds with a squeeze, before turning to Dokyeom with a blunt, “Goodbye.” 

Seungkwan pulls you inside the front door, beelining for the sliding glass doors that lead to the back porch.

“Hey!”

Without slowing, Seungkwan fends him off. “She was my friend first!”

“Yeah well,” Dokyeom flounders like a washed up fish.

“You dazzle with words. Now go away.” Seungkwan sniffs.

Sending an apologetic smile over your shoulder, you allow Seungkwan to usher you along. You spot another person in the kitchen, face shadowed by the hood of his sweater. He doesn’t look up when you and Seungkwan shuffle pass.

“Ignore Mingyu, his girlfriend broke up with him yesterday.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, anyway.” Seungkwan plops onto one of the chairs circled around the patio table. “Speaking of girlfriends—”

“Did you finally get one?”

“Being mean is bad for your health.” He deadpans. “As I was saying, did Dokyeom ask you to be his?”

“His what?”

“His girlfriend.”

Your ears ring at the nonchalance in Seungkwan’s tone.

“Why would he ask me to be his girlfriend?”

“Why else would you get up at the ass crack of dawn to come to this dump?”

“He said he wanted me to come.” You answer, turning your head to observe the lake beyond the thin tree line.

“After you told him no? Wow, didn’t realize he was that good in bed.”

Your hands itch to circle his neck and shake but Seungkwan is saved by the very man in question.

“Hate to interrupt but I thought you might want some coffee?”

You turn around, smiling as Dokyeom leans out of the sliding glass door, “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“We aren’t done talking!” Seungkwan calls as you reach the door.

“I am!”

Mingyu apparently retreated to his room after you stepped outside, nowhere to be found in the kitchen or living room beyond the counter.

The isolation makes you nervous which is strange because it’s just Dokyeom. But his words last night over the phone, coupled with Seungkwan’s on the porch twist your guts uncomfortably. 

It’s too late to bail. You can’t claim illness since Dokyeom will fawn over you like some mother hen. Besides, you don’t actually want to leave. You just can’t stand the nagging voice in the back of your head insisting this isn’t what friends do. Even if said friends are having sex. 

“Wanna show me your room?” 

“Sure!” Dokyeom is still cheery, eagerly leading you upstairs and down a maze of hallways. 

The outside of the cabin, while daunting, failed to betray how big it actually is as you pass door after door on your journey.

The room Dokyeom is sharing with Soonyoung is cozy. Two full sized beds with little room for anything else and an en suite the size of a closet. But at least you won’t have to battle it out with anyone else for a bathroom during the next three days. 

Dokyeom was lucky enough to claim the bed closests to the bay windows, framing a pleasant view of the backyard, dock, and sprawling lake. When you step closer, you can spot Seungkwan’s mop of hair as he leans on the edge of the railing that borders the porch; hand animated as the other holds his phone near his mouth.

Turning back to the bed, you spot your bag on the floor at the foot of it. The room is ten degrees hotter when you realize Dokyeom was lying right there as he talked you through an orgasm barely twelve hours ago. You awkwardly shuffle on your feet as you try to find something to say.

Dokyeom seems unperturbed, flopping onto the mattress, arms thrown wide in invitation. A shy grin twists your lips. Hair a mess, and cheeks flushed, Dokyeom looks cute. He’s always cute but navy crew neck and gray sweats transforms him into a cozy dream. The mattress dips under your knee as you crawl to lay next to him.

Settling your head over his heart, arms twining around one another, you feel your own give a peculiar squeeze. It’s truly no different than all the other times you’ve cuddled, albeit those were post-coitous; except it is. Dokyeom told you he wanted you here, that he likes spending time with you, and now he’s squeezing the life out of you as he snags one of your legs to wrap around his waist.

When sleep tickles your nose, pleasantly warm and inviting, you ignore how Dokyeom isn’t your boyfriend. What you have right now is perfect enough.

—

The sweet hum of Dokyeom’s voice lulls you awake, a simple melody you vaguely recognize from his playlist he insists on blasting during your hangouts. Gray light from outside casts the room sullenly dark. Storm clouds, swollen to a near black, eclipse the late afternoon sun. Dokyeom’s neck is the perfect place to escape the unavoidable sounds of the cabin filled with life, eyes firmly shut as you inhale the smell of laundry detergent and pine. 

One of your hands managed to twist under his sweater in your sleep, fisting his thin T-shirt as you attempt to beckon sleep out of hiding and back towards you. A pathetic whine escapes when Dokyeom jostles you in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, only silenced by his lips against your forehead and his stroking your elbow.

“Shhhh,” he coos. “Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it?”

“Like five.”

Lifting back from his neck, you pout. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

A gentle peck to your lips in response leaves you speechless, a soft quirk to his lips as you gape. Collapsing back into his chest you’re left to bask in each other's presence as you take to silently drawing shapes on his stomach, smiling as he giggles from ticklishness. His thumb traces the curves of your hip, digging to the soft flesh of your waist.

A banging on the door makes you both jump out of your skin before Seungkwan’s voice cuts the air. “Come on love birds, dinners ready!”

“If we don’t get up, do you think he’ll go away?” Dokyeom whispers into your hair.

“No.” 

On queue the door flies open, smacking against the wall and rebounding into Seungkwan’s face.

“I said it's time for dinner. Now get your asses up!”

“Go away, Boo!” You demand, chucking a pillow in his direction.

“What happened to respecting your elders?” Dokyeom asks, eyes sharp as he tries to kill the younger man with his eyes.

“When my elder does something respectable, I’ll consider it.” Seungkwan claps. “Now chop chop!” 

The dinner Seungkwan so adamantly demanded your presence at is a huge pot of spaghetti and some loaves of garlic bread. Nothing overly complex but the bustling atmosphere downstairs is nice, comfortable.

Dokyeom introduces you to some of the fraternity members you haven’t met, as well as their dates. Squished between him and Seungkwan at the dining table, you barely engage in conversation. Not that you need to. They both fill the space with their own joking easily enough.

Instead, your mind focuses on the warmth of Dokyeom’s shoulder brushing yours, and how he rests his arm on the back of your chair once he finishes his plate. 

When the mess is cleared away, a few people scurrying off to who knows where, Soonyoung insists on a game of Beerio Kart as dessert. Excited to have a new person to torment, he drags you to the couch before you can object. In a blink, you find yourself wedged between the armrest and Dokyeom as he explains the game.

“The rules are simple my friends! No drinking and driving and you have to finish your drunk before the race ends. If you fail to do so you’ll be publicly shamed.” Soonyoung claps his hands together, the maniacal glint in his eyes a little too intense for such a silly game. 

“And for additional chaos,” Seungkwan adds. “I’ve changed it to blue shells only.” 

“Now may the best driver win!”

“Alright, the first round is Jun, Marci, Sam, and me.”

“This is gonna be a bloodbath.” Someone calls from the other couch.

And it is. Jun uses height to hold Seungkwan’s drink out of the younger man’s reach, resulting in Seungkwan launching himself from the couch in a flying kick. They’re both so occupied with one another they don’t notice the race is long finished and neither of their characters moved past the starting line.

A chorus of boos rises as the race times out, designating them as 11th and 12th place.

“Alright, next is DK, Y/N, Wonwoo, and myself.”

“Can I forfeit?”

Dokyeom turns to you. “You wanna quit already?” 

“Considering my opponents, yes.”

“New rule: no quitting allowed.” Soonyoung interjects.

“You can’t make that a rule!”

“I just did!” 

You respond with a thumbs down, much more effective than the middle finger you want to throw his way.

“It’s okay if you’re scared, Y/N.” Wonwoo taunts from across the room. 

“I’m not scared!”

“That’s exactly what someone who is scared would say!” Soonyoung chimes in.

Dokyeom just shrugs his shoulders when you look at him for assistance. Figures. He’s part of the reason you don’t want to play. He and his roommate rile each other up too much under normal circumstances, let alone when things get competitive and alcohol is involved.

“Fine, let's play!”

Soonyoung divvies out another round of lukewarm beer cans you’re required to drink as Wonwoo picks the track. N64 Rainbow Road because apparently he’s an asshole. The way he reclines back in his seat confirms it.

To avoid the inevitable mess Dokyeom will make in his haste to chug before the race begins, you stand, shuffling closer to the safe zone at the edge of the coffee table. He tugs at the back of your shirt for a second, prompting you to shake your head. 

Dokyeom pouts but stays silent. 

“Alright lady and gentlemen! Start. Your. Engines!”

Cracking open your can the second the countdown begins on screen, you gag at the taste of cheap beer as everyone whoops around you. You manage half the can before you have to stop under the threat of it coming back up. Dokyeom and Soonyoung are still drinking, the later shuffling in place restlessly. Wonwoo hasn’t even opened his beer, focusing on getting as far ahead as he can.

Hopefully Seungkwan’s meddling takes care of him.

The race track is chaos as you press your character forward, occasionally blown off course by a blue shell moving to knock out whoever is in first. Half way through the course, you chance a glance at the other corners of the TV. Soonyoung and Dokyeom have finally started lap one, only for Soonyoung to fly over the edge at the first turn and wait to be rescued. Wonwoo is caught in the mess at the front of the pack, only able to maintain first for a fraction of a second before being sniped by a shell. 

Once you round the third lap, you take your chance. Stopping in a corner of the track to down the rest of your drink, hoping everyone is too engrossed in the events on screen to see you start moving despite still swallowing a mouth full of beer. 

This is when you see Wonwoo make his mistake. He pauses right before the finish line, cracking his can open and nearly choking on the large gulps in his haste. You're gaining quickly, barely a quarter of the last lap remains between your carts. When he finally finishes the can and picks up the controller, you unleash the blue shell you’d been saving. Rosalina goes flying as you sail by, Yoshi claiming fifth place.

“Suck it!” You scream, jumping up and down in victory; joined by Seungkwan who hollers with you as if he won too.

Wonwoo is shell-shocked, literally. He finishes seventh overall, pulling behind another computer character. Soonyoung is on the floor as he and Dokyeom fight for second to last place. The shame goes to Soonyoung as the race times out once again.

When you turn back to the couch you're met with another blinding smile as you drop into his lap. 

“Looooooserrrr,” you taunt as you flick his nose gently.

“Yeah whatever.”

“It’s okay, maybe I can teach you sometime.”

He laughs, squeezing you into his chest. “God, you’re annoying.” 

“It’s so lonely at the top.” You furrow your brow in mock sorrow.

Another race ensues, more chaos and screaming echoing through the living room. The heat of Dokyeom’s chest sinks through the back of your hoodie, strong plains of muscle shaking as he laughs with the group. When Seungkwan and Soonyoung face each other in a rematch you tempt Dokyeom upstairs, kissing behind his ear before leaning back and giving him the “look.”

The “I-want-your-dick-in-my-mouth” look.

Of which he very is familiar.

Dokyeom lurches forward, eager to appease, forgetting you're still in his lap until your weight knocks him back down. Shaking your head you stand and pull him up behind you, moving towards the stairs uninterrupted as Seungkwan and Soonyoung threaten each other's life and limb behind you.

Tacky wood shiplap digs into your spine uncomfortable as Dokyeom crowds you against the wall. His lips ghost along your jaw, hands on either side of your head to prevent him from crushing you. You don’t have the same concern, pulling him closer with the fabric of his sweater. The door to his room is a few feet to your left but the idea of separating for even a second to make it inside is pure agony.

“What does the winner want for her prize?” he whispers, teeth grazing your earlobe.

“Depends.” You sigh, grinding against the bulge of his thigh. 

“On?”

“If my prize is separate from what I get for driving up here.”

Dokyeom nips your chin, dodging your attempt to connect your mouths.

“Depends on what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“I’m gonna do that anyway.”

“I wasn’t done yet.”

He stays silent, teeth bruising the sliver of shoulder peeking out under your collar.

“I want you to fuck me,” cut of with a hiss at his vigor, “and I want to film it.”

Backing out of your neck, Dokyeom blinks at you, mouth wide.

Peeking at him through your eyelashes, you wait for Dokyeom’s brain to restart. His mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. Not a rejection or an agreement. Just surprise.

A heaviness curls in your gut. You thought he’d like the idea, especially from his reaction to the pictures you sent last night. And the videos he’s sent over the months you’ve been hooking up. Videos of him jacking off, cumming on his own stomach, your name on his lips. But maybe you assumed too much.

“Ifyoudon’twanttowedon—”

But a scream interrupts your rant as he lifts you by your thighs, ankles locking around the top of his butt and arms tangling around his neck like a koala. You hold on for dear life as he carries you down the hallway.

Palming your ass harshly with one hand, the other scrambles to open the door as he licks up your neck. The door rattles on its hinges as he kicks it shut but the blood rushing through your ears muffles it.

“Yes, yes. Holy shit, yes.” He’s whining into your ear, hips rutting into your core as he lands unceremoniously on the bed, crushing you underneath him.

You’re shocked for a second, woefully unprepared for his enthusiasm. But another harsh rush against you, coupled with his hands pawing up your shirt to palm your chest makes you bold.

Two things you know to be true about Dokyeom: 

First, he has a ragging praise kink. If you tell him he’s a good boy, he can come almost untouched.

Second, he loves the sight of his cum streaking across your body.

He was right to say he’ll enjoy this as much as you will.

“Yeah? Wanna come on my face?”

Another pathetic whine against your neck as he keeps curling his clothed cock against you. All of his weight settles between your hips as drives you to madness.

“Then go lock the door.”

[soulofapatrick]

Instant Attraction - Tommy Miller x reader

Summary: Upon meeting Tommy with Joel and Ellie you find the pair of you have immediate attraction for each other

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: none 

Notes: Part one of the Instant Attraction series

Y/N’s POV

“What!” Ellie snaps at the girl who’s been watching us from afar, she’s been hiding behind one of the support beams with her. Tommy, Maria and Joel all turn to where the girl is now running off, Ellie having scared her. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Joel elbows Ellie lightly, his southern heart probably so embarrassed my Ellie’s wild behaviour and I try to stifle a laugh at the embarrassment in his voice as this is a very different side of Joel. 

“What about her manners?” Ellie looks at Joel then me. 

“She’s just curious,” Maria speaks up, “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.” 

“Right,” Ellie’s voice dripping with sarcasm as she rolls her eyes, “Well, maybe I’ll teach them. I want my gun back.”

“Eleanor!” I use her full name, tone as stern as I can make it at the surprise on Maria’s face while Joel looks mortified and there’s an amused smile playing on Tommy’s lips. I can’t help but feel relaxed despite how tense it feels between Joel and Tommy. Ellie grimaces at the use of her full name and just goes back to stuffing her face, this being the first real meal she’s ever had. 

It’s fucking amazing compared to the beef jerky that Joel keeps on him at all times. It’s like a full Sunday roast, gravy and chicken and all and my mouth was salivating so much at the sight of it being placed in front of me. Ellie and Joel dug into it like they hadn’t eaten in months which is somewhat true and I wanted to do the same but every time Tommy’s intense gaze landed on me I felt myself flush because he’s good looking. 

Ellie picks up on it as she’s wiggling her eyes suggestively which has me kicking her under the table and she lets out a slew of swear words in pain that has Joel fixing me with a stern look like the one I gave Ellie a few minutes ago. I mumble out a sorry before going back to demolishing my meal, a snort coming from Ellie. 

“Thank you ma’am,” I mumble under my breath, mocking Joel’s tone and it has Ellie snorting and Joel’s head turning our way again with a defeated sigh. 

“My apologies about them ma’am,” Joel says to Maria, defeat in his tone, “You know how kids are.” 

“I am 20 thank you.” I speak up and Joel doesn’t even bat an eyelid, keeping his head turned away from me as his whole body gives Maria a see kinda look. 

“Child.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Manners.” 

“I like her, she’s fiery.” Tommy drawls, amusement still playing with the corner of his lips as his eyes flick from Joel to me. I think my heart stops when his dark eyes shift from my own to my lips and then away because I definitely imagine that, proven by the elbow in my side from Ellie. 

“Pain in my ass, is what she is.” Ellie put on her own Joel voice and the man just drops his head when Tommy and Maria actually laugh. The tension in Tommy’s shoulders seems to fade as he throws his head back in an unstrained laugh and I think this is when I really fall for the man. Something tells me not to get my hopes up despite his eyes following my lips every so ofter because of the way Maria seems to stick by his side like glue. 

“Should have left you at Bill’s.” Joel grumbles, grabbing all three of our plates and getting up to follow Maria to do his part in cleaning up. It leaves me and Ellie at the table with Tommy but of course Ellie doesn’t even try and be a wingwoman. Instead she’s jumping up, kicking her chair back and heads in the direction Joel and Maria disappeared off too with a call of “I’m not sitting in that bubble of sexual tension.” 

“Ellie!” I call after her, my face burning at the way Tommy raises an eyebrow at me while I just keep my eyes on Ellie’s retreating figure until she disappears and then my hands seems the most interesting thing around. 

“Sexual tension, huh?” There’s movement and then the chair Ellie was previously  sitting on is moving until a calloused hands reach for mine, stopping me from picking at the skin around my nails, “Hey darlin’, don’t do that, you’ll make yourself bleed.” 

I keep my head down, knowing my face is the colour of a tomato, and I drop one of his hands so I can turn the other hand over so I can lightly trace the lines on his palm. I usually do this with Joel when I’m feeling anxious but this feels different because Tommy’s scooting his chair closer so his hand settles in my lap while I continue to trail my fingers over the lines and the other arm is thrown over the back of my chair so he can lean in closer. 

“You got any family?” Tommy asks, voice quiet as if not to scare me.

“Joel and Ellie are the closest left. I had a younger brother who I lost before Joel and Ellie found me.” I tell him, finally daring to glance up and my breath hitches at how close his face is to mine, our noses almost able to bump and it has my cheeks flaring up again. 

I can’t look away despite how much I would like to. I’m usually loud and boisterous, Joel is always telling me that, but when it comes to guy I like I find myself getting flustered and forgetting how to breathe let alone formulate sentences. It’s what’s happening right now, my eyes are stuck searching Tommy’s face and taking him in. He and Joel look enough alike to be brothers: it’s mainly in the nose and mannerisms. Unlike Joel his skin is sun kissed and his freckles are visible from a distance and he’s sporting a moustache that makes me wonder what it would feel like in a kiss. I find myself acting on autopilot, one of my hands is running through the ends of his naturally slicked back hair as I find myself enthralled with the way it curls, curling strands around my fingers. His eyes are such a deep brown they’re almost black, reminding me of the night sky reflecting on water in the quietest hours of the night. His eyes hold so much passion and optimism I envy his way of seeing the world. 

A clearing of the throat has me snapping my head away from Tommy to find Joel standing there with Ellie and Maria, all three of them watching us. Ellie and Maria have proud looks on their faces while Joel just looks like a father who’s caught his kid sneaking out. It makes me shrink into my seat but Tommy doesn’t even flinch, if anything he acts bolder by moving his arm from behind me to fall onto my shoulders, thumb rubbing soothingly. 

“I want to stay here.” Ellie speaks up and I meet Joel’s eyes, seeing the same shock and hope reflected in them. We had talked about what happens after we hand Ellie over the fireflies and find Tommy but this… we never had a plan for this, “Fireflies were never my family, I’ve never had a family until now.” She turns to Joel because she knows she’s already got me sold. I have always seen Ellie as a daughter figure despite her being only six years older than her. 

“Joel?” I ask quietly as he just stares at Ellie, chest heaving as if he’s having a panic attack. Before I can move Ellie’s wrapped her arms around him and I see the glazed look in his eyes: he’s fighting guilt and want but it seems the want wins because he’s giving in and hugging Ellie back. It makes me relax and I realise I’ve been gripping Tommy’s thigh with nails digging in so I quickly withdraw my hand with an apology but he just squeezes my shoulder, looking at Maria. 

“There’s that house by the strawberry plot they can have. It’s two bedroom though and…” She’s trailing off, eyes flicking between me, Joel, Ellie and then Tommy. 

“I’ve got a spare room in mine,” Tommy answers her unasked question before Joel can open his mouth to say anything. He just gives Tommy a pointed look that Tommy seems to understand by the small nod Tommy sends back. Maria then tells Ellie and Joel to grab their packs and she’ll show the way to the house while Tommy finally takes his hand from mine and also stands. 

I copy and suddenly arms are wrapping around me and Ellie’s mumbling against my shirt, “You better not fucking disappear on us.” I laugh softy, pressing a kiss to there hair and hug her back until Maria’s calling for her. 

I’m being guided back against the door when it closes behind me, Tommy caging me in with arms either side of my head. He doesn’t make any moves other than that, just watching my expression for any signs of discomfort or fear but despite having only knowing this man for less that eight hours I feel completely safe. I feel like I know everything about him from all the stories Joel told me. 

“This is crazy,” He murmurs, testing the waters and closing the gap a little more, “We’ve only just met.” 

“Crazy,” I breathe, a small smile on my lips because yeah, he feels it too. He definitely feels it too when wind-chapped lip land on mine and steal all the air in my lungs. I’m grabbing the collar of his blue fleece jacket and pulling his body flush against mine as I melt into the kiss, body already wanting more. I feel alive for the first time in ages and want whatever Tommy is offering me despite the speed of all this. 

It seems he wants the same with the way his hand tangles in my hair and pulls, drawing a gasp from me before he pulls his body away from me enough to take me in before he’s groaning, “Can’t, I promised Joel I’d behave.” 

“I want this.” 

“So do I,” He whispers, “but I promised Joel we’d be sensible. Let me show you the town and it’s people first, take you on a date first and let you settle in.” 

“But-“ 

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop kissing you.” 

“Thank fuck.”

------------

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

yay!! the gift has been gifted, so here's the little ficlet i wrote for @thefreakandthehair's wedding gift zine!!! congratulations Lex!!!!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,313 | rated: G | on AO3: it started with the oven

It started with the oven.

Well, with him complaining about the oven, to be specific. The house those government folks put them up in after everything happened last year was new to them o’course, but nowhere near brand-spankin’. Still had some issues to work out.

“Sorry boys, roast might be a bit crispy on one side. Damn oven is acting up again.” 

Wayne didn’t notice it that first time, but Steve immediately perked up, the look completely throwing off his attempted casualness about what he said next.

“I can help you fix it if you like.”

Without even looking at his nephew, Wayne knows they’re both giving Steve twin looks of confusion.

“You know how to fix an oven? How in the hell do you know how to fix an oven?” Eddie asks, half incredulous, half actually curious.

“I uh…had to figure it out once when ours went out…”

Wayne could hear the rest of that statement clear as day, though Steve stayed quiet after that. “It was either that, or go hungry.” Those goddamn Harringtons…

“Sure thing son, let's let it cool down and we can take a look at it.”

By time dinner is over, Eddie’s disappeared, back to his room to do god knows what while he and Steve pull the oven away from the wall.

The longer they work, the quieter Steve becomes. Knowing what he knows now, it was the nerves about what he wanted to ask, but to the Wayne in the moment, it was just nice to get some help around the house without also hearing loud complaining.

Steve tells Wayne what he’d done before to fix his, and Wayne gives him a couple other tips with other potential problems, and soon, the oven is once again able to heat evenly.

“Looks good, kid,” Wayne says, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder once they’ve got the thing pushed back where it goes.

He turns to put away his tool box, leaving the young man to do whatever it is he normally does with his nephew (gross), when Steve’s voice stops him.

“Wayne?”

“Hm?” 

Steve falls quiet again, so Wayne turns, taking in Steve’s uncharacteristically anxious demeanor and now pale complexion.

“I–” Steve looks him in the eye, but only briefly. His gaze drops to the dirt on his hands, which he brushes off. “Nothing, just–thanks.” he finishes with a small smile, heading down the hall immediately after.

Wayne shrugs, going back to his toolbox. Odd. But whatever; glad to be of help with…whatever it was he helped with.

—

The next time, it was the front porch.

Luckily not ‘cause of anyone fallin’ through or anything, just about high time he got those front few planks replaced before someone does.

He says as much to his boys at dinner a few weeks after he and Steve fixed the oven, and Eddie volunteers himself for moral support.

“You just wanna see me shirtless and sweaty.” Steve accuses.

“Correct. Moral Support.” Ed sweeps his hand out and leans back in his chair.

“Do I hafta be shirtless too?”

Both boys loudly protest in answer, fake gags and all.

He and Steve get to work tearing out the old rotted boards a couple days later, and as expected, Eddie makes himself scarce within an hour. Something about “You guys workin’ this hard is making me thirsty. I’m gonna go grab milkshakes.”

“Moral Support my ass...” Wayne mumbles, shaking his head fondly.

Again, not long after Eddie’s gone, Steve’s easy conversation peters off; and again, Wayne just assumes he’s not quite used to being around him alone, or that he just prefers comfortable silence over chatter (something Wayne himself can appreciate).

He does come back in, however, after a long lull. “Wayne, I wanted to ask…”

Wayne doesn’t find out what Steve wanted though, as Eddie’s van rattles up the road at that moment, the promise of a cool treat too good to pass up for chattin’ with his boyfriend’s Uncle.

Though, as he watches Steve help Eddie out of the van, grabbing the milkshakes (and a quick kiss) from his boy, Wayne thinks he already knows what it is Steve was gonna ask.

And what his answer would be.

—

The third and final time was definitely the time.

This time, there was no pretense. Wayne and Steve weren’t already working on something together, no current excuse to talk without Eddie nearby. It was a Thursday evening and Wayne was alone at home about to head in for a shift.

Opening the door to a knock was weird though. Steve basically lived here, so opening the door to his wide-eyed, pale face was a shock.

“Steve? What’re knocking for, boy?”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just–I’m–”

“You ‘right, son? C’mon inside now..” Wayne coaxes the kid inside, and Steve takes his shoes off automatically, lining them up along the messy pile of Eddie’s shoes just inside the door.

“Eddie’s at the Emersons’ y’know.” Wayne says, plopping back into his previously abandoned armchair.

“Y-yeah, I know, I just dropped him and Henderson off there for their game.”

They both fall quiet then. 

Steve rubs the back of his neck nervously, and Wayne waits patiently.

…Okay, maybe not that patiently.

“Now look, Steve, not that I don’t appreciate spendin’ time wit’cha, ‘cause I do, but it seems t’me you came here for a reason.”

Steve’s gaze snaps up, mouth agape. “How’d you–nevermind.” he clears his throat and continues.

“Mr. Munson–”

“Nope, none’a that, not even for this. M’name’s Wayne, son.” He enjoys throwing Steve off sometimes, alright? Sue him.

All the breath in Steve’s lungs seems to escape at once and he smiles slightly, visibly relaxing just a tad. 

Good.

“Wayne, Eddie and I have been dating for over a year now…obviously…you know that..”

“Is that what you two’ve been doin’? I thought you two were just the best of buds.”

This time, Steve actually laughs. “Shut up, I’m nervous, okay?”

“I know y’are, kiddo.”

He takes another settling breath, much calmer now, and continues. “I love him, Wayne. More than anything in my life.

“I know it’s not for real, I know, but I want him, and you, to know that I mean this to be forever. That if I could, I would marry him tomorrow.” Steve chuckles to himself at that, “Probably would’ve months ago, to be honest.

“All this to say—to ask! Ask…” he shuffles nervously again.

‘You got this, Steve, you’re almost there.’ Wayne thinks encouragingly at him.

As if he could hear him, Steve steels himself, looks Wayne in the eye, and (finally) says:

“Wayne, I would like your blessing to propose to Eddie.” He takes another short breath and presses on. “And I don’t want to hear anything about “Why’re you askin’ me, he’s not my kid.” or some crap, either. You’re the most important person in his life, and always will be. It may not be important to you, but it is to me… That you approve, I mean.”

Okay, he knew it was coming. But the added impassioned (and unnecessary) speech that came with it was a surprise. As if Steve was willing to fight Wayne for thinking Wayne wasn’t important to Eddie. 

He stands, hefting himself out of the sunken springs of his chair, and immediately pulls Steve in for a hug.

“Good speech, son.” he says, squeezing the kid tightly for a moment before adding on, “Though I don’t think there was a single question mark in that whole rant o’yours.”

Steve laughs into his shoulder, beaming his wide bright smile when they separate.

“Do I have your blessing or not, old man?” he snarks, pulling a bellowing laugh out of Wayne.

“That’s more like it!” He claps a hand onto Steve’s shoulder. “And of course y’have it, Steve…

“I’d be proud to call you a Munson.”

you can read this one and the whole rest of the collection here!

[puddle-nerd]

He Knows

Summary: You have to stay still or Ao’nung might find out what you and Neteyam were doing. (Human Neteyam/Human Female Reader)

Prompt #1 (Cockwarming) for Avatar12DaysofKinkmas2023

Story Tags: No Use of Y/N, Cockwarming, Female Reader, Human AU, Aged Up Characters, Everyone is Legal, Yes They’re Both Eighteen+!, Established Relationship, Use of ‘baby girl’, Accidental Voyeurism, Caught, Bi-Curious Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan

AO3 Link

“Stay still, baby girl,” Neteyam whispered hotly in your ear, pushing his one hand into your tummy to keep you from squirming in his lap and adding to the delicious pressure; his other hand flipped the page of his college economics textbook leisurely, as if he had no care in the world. He added, rubbing his nose against your neck, “I’m trying to study for my midterm.” You whimpered, both wanting to move your hips and feel the pleasure you only felt with your boyfriend and to be a good girl like he’d told you to be when you had first sat down on him almost an hour ago. “Give me… ohhh…” he hissed as you adjusted your weight in his lap, your inner walls fluttering around his firm shaft, “give me thirty more minutes and then we can play. Can you do that, baby girl? Can you behave for me and not move?”

“Yes,” you whined quietly in the back of your throat, your breath coming out in shallow pants, your nerves on edge. “I’ll behave, Teyam.”

But, god, how you wanted your boyfriend to fuck your brains out. He was definitely the best you had ever had, the only one of your lovers to make sure you enjoyed yourself to the fullest and that you got off every time the two of you were intimate. Just thinking about it made more slick dribble out of where you and Neteyam were connected and trickle down the curve of your bottom. You sighed through gritted teeth, turning to bury your face into his neck, breathing him in as you tried to distract yourself for the next half an hour, like he had requested of you.

“Be good,” Neteyam reminded you, shifting both himself and you within his desk chair, his cock grinding up slightly into your gummy walls, making you tighten further upon him. He hissed, gritting his own teeth as he struggled not to drive himself up into you like he wanted to. “Be good or you don’t get to cum at all, baby girl.”

“Yo! Tey! You home?”

You immediately wanted to yell in anger, or cry, especially when your boyfriend’s roommate let himself into Neteyam’s room casually and without warning. Again. “Oh… Go away, you butthole,” you groaned, looking over your shoulder as Ao’nung sauntered cockily towards the two of you. You straightened out your skirt to make sure the Hawaiian didn’t see what the two of you were doing as he got closer. “Don’t you ever knock?” You didn’t not like Ao’nung, you actually thought he was amusing – and really, really smart when he wanted to be – but right now, you didn’t want him around with your boyfriend buried balls deep inside of you. Even if your boyfriend’s roommate was kinda… really attractive.

The young Hawaiian man smirked at you, his blue eyes roving over your flushed face and heaving breasts, a dark brow rising up on his forehead.

“This is my parents’ spare house that they’re renting to me and your boyfriend, pretty thing,” he reminded you, leaning up against Neteyam’s desk and crossing his tattooed golden-brown arms over his broad chest. “So, you better be nice to me.” You rolled your eyes at his empty threat and straightened up in Neteyam’s lap, trying not to react as your boyfriend’s dick convulsed within you again, just the way you wanted it to – when Ao’nung wasn’t present. Although… there was something really arousing about warming your boyfriend’s cock right in front of his clueless roommate.

“You’re an ass and we’re busy,” you muttered weakly, trying not to moan as the shaft buried deep within you twitched.

Neteyam pressed his hand against your belly again, shushing you while causing pleasure to skitter up and down your spine. Your boyfriend looked up at his roommate, his beaded braids clacking together quietly as he asked, voice level and even, “What’s up? I’m trying to study.” His free hand drifted down beneath his desk and teased the inside of your trembling thighs.

“I’m meeting up with Rotxo at the Omega Beta Zeta party shortly,” Ao’nung replied, brows furrowing as he watched you bite down on your lower lip and breathe slowly through your nose so you didn’t moan. That didn’t stop the full body shudder wracking through you or for your hands from biting into the armrests of Neteyam’s chair. The Hawaiian started to smile as he added, “Think you can tear yourself away from your books for a few hours so you and your girl can socialize with others our age, Tey?” he inquired teasingly, smirking at the two of you. “If you don’t have other plans, that is.” His blue eyes lingered heatedly.

‘Oh, god, he knew,’ you thought, wanting to sink into your boyfriend and hide in embarrassment.

“We were actually planning to stay in and watch a movie or something tonight and order takeout from that new Brazilian place,” Neteyam replied, his voice still smooth and composed whereas you were fighting the pleasure his fingers and his cock were inciting within you. “We’ll go to the next one, ‘Nung. Promise.”

Ao’nung rolled his eyes and smirked to himself. “Yeah, yeah, I can take a hint,” he replied before glancing between you and your boyfriend, watching as you tried to be good and not squirm.

God, you wanted Neteyam to fuck you.

The Hawaiian eyed you closely and you felt yourself clench even harder down upon your boyfriend, pulling a grunt from Neteyam. Ao’nung’s brows furrowed and then his pupils began dilating in a way that had you tightening further down upon your boyfriend’s shaft, more slick dribbling out of you. And in that second, you realized your boyfriend’s roommate knew exactly what the two of you were doing right in front of him. Ao’nung added, “I’ll just go change real quick and leave you to fuck like rabbits. Unless you two want some help?” His hungry blue gaze jumped from you to your boyfriend and back again. “I’m quite skilled… in all areas.”

You froze, jaw dropping and you heard Neteyam gulp.

Apparently, you and your boyfriend hesitated too long because Ao’nung shrugged and stood up, saying, “You guys change your mind, let me know. See ya later.” He waved and sauntered out of Neteyam’s bedroom, closing the door behind himself.

You shifted in your lover’s lap, hissing as his cock ground into your cunt deliciously, and you looked at your lover and asked, “Did he just…?”

“I think he did, baby girl.” Neteyam gulped and asked quietly, “It’s… kinda hot, right?”

You raised your brows at this revelation and all its possibilities and grinned and him. You leaned in for a kiss before you told him, “Yeah, it kinda is. But we’ll talk about it more after you fuck me.”

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 14 December 2023

Word Count: 1,135

AO3 Link

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 7: Dreamers

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Robert Fischer x OC

Summary: Alice and Robert experiment.

Word Count: 3,164

Notes: Warnings for depictions of smut, specifically dream sex, marathon sex, praise kink, and a wet dream (technically).

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

“Did you ever fuck your projection of me?”

Alice almost fell out of her chair at the kitchen table. “Excuse me!?” 

Robert’s eyes shone with mischievous amusement. “Just curious.”

“I don’t–I–fuck off!” she stammered. Her face was probably about as red as a tomato. She had told him about the projection of him that would sometimes visit her when she used the PASIV during their time apart from one another, and while he’d had many questions in the moment, none of them had been quite like…that.

“So that’s a yes,” he said, looking far too smug as he leaned backwards. “Was I any good?”

“Robert!” 

“What? I need to know that projection Robert had an accurate representation of my actual abilities.”

She buried her burning face into her arms. “I hate you so much.”

Robert chuckled, chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her head up so that it was resting on his chest. “It’s alright. I’m just teasing you.”

“I know,” though she still pouted a little against him. Still chuckling, clearly far too smug about the whole thing, Robert buried his face in her neck, lips beginning to brush over her throat. “Robbie?” she asked, eyes fluttering at the touch.

“I have an idea.” 

“Uh oh.”

“Mhm,” he pulled back, tilting her face up with a finger under her chin, and kissed her, touches slow and methodical, blatant in his attempts to seduce her.

“So…” she trailed off as he kissed back down her neck, pulling the collar of her shirt aside so that he could have access to her shoulder. “What’s your idea?”

Robert leaned back, pupils blown wide, pale, freckled cheeks flushed. He stroked her face, large hands cradling her head, thumb petting her lips.

“I want to fuck you in a dream,” he said, voice low, making her core clench. Alice’s hands came to rest on top of his, lips parting as arousal began to flood over her.

“Okay.”

His eyes went alight with excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Let’s try it.”

He pulled her in for one last, quick kiss to the lips before grabbing her hands, tugging her up out of her chair. Still gripping her tightly as they began to walk hastily towards the bedroom, they giggled conspiratorially like teenagers. She laughed, when she tried to pull free from his hand to go to the closet to get the PASIV and he instead pulled her up against his chest and kissed her, hand cupping her jaw, the other sliding down her back to grope her ass.

“You keep it up and we’re not going to even get the PASIV out,” she laughed, finally pulling away from him. He let her go, though he pouted when he did it. And the moment she had the silver case out of the closet and opened up on one of the nightstands, he was pressed up behind her, kissing insistently at her neck while she worked to get everything set up.

“You’re distracting me!” she complained with a sharp laugh, even as she leaned back into him, humming as his hand slipped into her shirt and bra to cup her breast. She kissed the dimple in his cheek, a result of his grin. “Go lay down,” she ordered and he complied eagerly, spreading himself out on the bed, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt to expose his forearm to her. She slid the tiny needle in place, going to fidget with the dials on the machine. “I’ll see you soon,” she pecked his lips as he nodded, leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes. Alice allowed her fingers, light as a feather, to brush some of the soft hair away from his face, just admiring him before she laid down beside him, slipping her own tube into place and reaching over to push the button in the center of the case.

It felt like she only just blinked. Eyes closed for the briefest of moments, and then she was in an entirely different place from her bedroom in their beach house in Australia, barely even given the opportunity to process what appeared to be a very spacious and luxurious hotel room before Robert was on her, mouth hungrily crashing down onto hers as Alice’s hand fisted with the front of his shirt.

His hands planted on her back, pulling her firmly into his front, until she could feel the clothed erection in his slacks pressing into her stomach. He groaned, low in his throat, when she gripped his shirt in both hands and tore it open, buttons popping off and flying everywhere. It was a dream. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was running her hands up the naked skin of his torso, angling her head so that she could kiss him deeper. They broke apart for only a stutter of a moment so he could pull her shirt off over her head, groaning as she hastily undid her bra and slid it off her shoulders. Robert’s hands were everywhere; in her hair, on her breasts, squeezing her hips.

When she buried a hand in his thick hair, he moaned, and started to walk her backwards in the direction of the bed. She let him push her gently onto it, cradling his face with her palm as he crawled on top of her.

“Mm,” her head fell back as he started to press kisses into her throat, making his way down to her chest to play with her breasts. Legs wrapping around his waist, she pushed her hips up insistently until his erection, fully straining in his pants, pressed against her. “No foreplay,” she said, desperation growing at the feel of him.

“You sure?” he lifted his head from her chest, eyes wide. Alice nodded.

“It’s a dream. You won’t hurt me.”

Growling, he surged on top of her, fingers fumbling with the button and zip of her pants. She helped him to wriggle her out of them, underwear going with them. And then she was sitting up, pushing him onto his back and kissing him feverishly as she undid his belt and the zipper on his slacks, pulling them down, taking note of the wet patch already forming in the front of his boxers before she pulled those away too.

When she took him into her hand, hot and swollen and already throbbing, he whimpered, loudly, head thrown back onto the pillows. 

“Alice,” he pleaded, eyes rolling as she rubbed her thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, testing the weight of him in her palm, smirking at the way he pulsed when she tightened her fist around him. Eyes snapping back to hers, they narrowed playfully. “You said no foreplay.”

Fair. Still keeping him in her fist, she rearranged herself so that she was sitting in his lap, his hands on her hips to help stabilize her. “Sorry,” she kissed him. “Couldn’t help it.”

A startled shriek left her lips as he suddenly rolled them over, planting his hands on either side of her head while he hovered above her. Laughing, she wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging him to come closer.

“Ready?” he asked, rubbing his nose along her shoulder, waiting for permission before he did anything more.

“Yes,” she said, kissing his cheek. He was always so sweet to her.

Robert let her guide him inside of her, thrusting forward with a grunt once she’d lined him up. Her head fell back at the familiar stretch of him, mouth falling open at the satisfaction of being full again. 

“Robbie, oh,” she let out a startled yelp as he shifted forward, pushing his cock directly into the spot that made her toes curl. He moaned loudly, as he entered her, lips falling open to gasp as his chest heaved, face burying in her neck.

“Alice, so good,” he babbled, one hand remaining anchored to the space in the bed beside her head, while the other came to rest on her hip. She wrapped both arms around his neck, nuzzling him, wanting him as close as she could physically get him.

“Please,” she whispered, rolling her hips up as best she could with him technically pinning her under him. Robert groaned again, nodding, and started to move at a slow, deep pace that left her clawing at his back, nipping his shoulder at the way he was hitting her g-spot with every stroke.

The hand near her face moved to stroke her head, brushing some hair out of her face before cradling her. “Alice,” Robert said, voice straining, and she nodded in silent understanding, lifting her head up enough to kiss him as they continued to thrust and roll against each other. He adjusted his movements only slightly, so he was both rubbing up against her clit with every thrust and still pressing his cock into that sensitive spot inside of her on every stroke in, and Alice threw her head back with a cry, practically sobbing at how good it felt.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” she chanted over and over again. He kissed her face, her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, down to her neck.

“I won’t, I won’t,” he promised, movements only growing harder and faster, more frantic in his goal to get her to come. His thrusts so powerful she was shifting up the bed with each other, short nails dragging across his back, sliding back up into his hair to pull his head down so she could kiss him again and again and again. The band in her lower belly was growing tighter with every movement, orgasm imminent.

“I love you,” she said, between kisses, then threw her head back, body beginning to tense. “I’m close.”

“I love you too,” he told her, nuzzling at her cheek, groaning from deep in his chest as he felt her walls beginning to spasm around his engorged cock. “Come for me.”

And with a scream that might have been his name, she did exactly that, gripping tightly his shoulders, legs tightening around his hips as if trying to draw him closer. 

“Robbie…Robbie…Robbie,” she said, over and over, walls going tight around his cock. Robert moaned as he felt her gush out all over his erection, soaking it with her come as he continued to thrust steadily, chasing his own orgasm while prolonging hers. 

“So beautiful. You’re always so beautiful,” he said, kissing her cheek. She could feel him throbbing deep inside of her as he grew closer, thrusting only a handful more times before he stilled with a loud cry, muscles tensing with his orgasm. His cock thrusted as deep inside of her as he could get, staying there as he poured his come into her with several powerful throbs. Stroking his hair, Alice nosed at his temple affectionately as they both just laid there, basking in their shared afterglows.

Finally, Robert lifted his head enough to peck her lips tenderly, pulling out and rolling over to lay down beside her. Alice shifted closer until she was cuddled up against his chest, head resting just below his collarbone. Robert hummed contently, kissing the top of her head and wrapping his arms around her.

“Good?” he asked.

“Mhm. Very much so.”

He shot her a cocky, crooked smile and she snorted, burying her face in his neck. 

“Shut up.” 

He just laughed and hugged her tighter. Alice nosed deeper into his neck, breathing in the scent of his soap and cologne, letting her lips ghost along the soft skin. Robert shivered.

“Al, what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she drew the word out, still kissing and nuzzling, lips curling up with self satisfaction when a small moan bubbled from his throat. Readjusting herself against him, she slid her thigh forward, until she grinned in triumph as she was greeted with his cock, already beginning to stiffen up for her again. “Mm. You’re horny today,” she teased. He huffed, grabbing her smiling face with both hands, raising her head up to look at him.

“Pretty big talk coming from the woman who can’t keep her hands off my cock.”

She just smiled at him innocently, flexing her fingers around him, enjoying the sensation of him swelling up and twitching in her palm.

“Fuck,” he dropped his face into her hair. “How much time did you put on the timer?”

“Just enough for us both to come again, if we hurry.”

“I love you,” he said it with such seriousness, clutching her face in his hands, that she couldn’t help but giggle against his lips as he kissed her. “Turn around on your side.”

She raised an eyebrow, but complied, letting his erection go and rolling over so she was facing away from him. Robert draped himself around her from behind, cock nudging against the small of her back. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her flush against him, the other hand taking hold of his cock. She watched him from over her shoulder, brows raised. Robert smiled and kissed her nose.

“I got you,” he promised, then nuzzled at her neck as he began to push in again, his entrance slickened by the combination of her come and his previous load still seeping from her. Alice moaned, arching her back, loving the feeling of having him spooned up against her. So warm and close.

“Okay?” he asked, pulling some of her hair back so he had better access to her neck and shoulder.

“Yes. Yes, good,” she breathed out. Robert pressed his lips to her shoulder, peppering the skin with soft little kisses as he started to thrust again. Mindful of the ticking clock, his movements were quick and deep, just how he knew she liked it. The hand around her flattened against the middle of her chest, directly between her breasts, and with his lips close to her ear she could hear almost every single little sound he made.

“Fuckkkkkk, so tight,” he growled out, her walls spasming around him at the praise. “Not gonna last…” he warned.

“Me neither,” already, she could feel a second orgasm building up in her with every movement of his cock, the way he was throbbing only pushing her closer. With a moan, he slipped his hand down to rub her clit in time with his movements, her head lolling back against his shoulder in response. 

“I want you to come again, Alice. Can you do that for me? Come for me, sweetheart,” he murmured, all while he pumped that enormous, heavy cock in and out of her, focused entirely on making her feel as good as he possibly could. She wanted to cry. He was always so sweet to her. So kind and gentle. She loved him with all her heart.

Her walls clamped down on him hard, cunt spasming as she came with a moan, eyes closing with it, body shuddering with bliss. When she finally came to, it was to find Robert still frantically rutting against her, breathing harsh as he chased his orgasm. Tilting her head so she was murmuring into his ear, Alice began to talk to him. 

“You always take such good care of me, Robbie,” she told him, hand rising to tangle in his hair. “Always make me come so hard.”

“Ohh…” he whined, face burying deeper in her neck, cock twitching as it prepared to spill another load. Alice smiled softly.

“Feel so good…always so good,” she shivered as he throbbed. “Love how it feels when you come in me, baby. Always makes me feel so full.”

Robert let out a thunderous moan, body stilling, hips flush to hers and he started to empty inside her, cock pulsing with it, his entire body twitching with each generous spray of seed.

“Fuck,” Alice hissed once they’d finally come to a complete stop, her body slumping deeper into the mattress. Robert pressed adoring kisses all along her neck and shoulder, remaining seated inside of her as they both relaxed. Turning her head enough for him to kiss her lips, Alice smiled when he pecked her nose right after.

“Time is probably almost out,” she murmured.

“Mm,” he wrapped both arms tight around her, resting his head into the crook of her shoulder and closing his eyes. “Let’s just stay like this, then.”

“Okay,” she was more than happy to snuggle down into his arms, his chest warm against her back as they rested. Her eyes drifted closed, and when she opened them, she was staring up at the ceiling over her own bedroom, back in the beachhouse. Mind still groggy, she fumbled to pull the IV tube free from her arm, tossing it away and rolling over to nestle comfortably into Robert’s side where he was laying beside her, groaning groggily. She pulled his IV out too, tossing it away in the general direction of the PASIV.

Dom and Arthur would have been appalled. Whatever. She’d put it all away later. 

“Mm,” Robert mumbled, still a little dazed, even as he put his arms around her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Alice giggled, nosing at his chest affectionately. “I think I would say that was a successful experiment, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, yes. Very successful.”

She smiled, stretching her legs out slightly, body still locked in the final stages of post-orgasmic bliss. Robert shifted beside her, then made a face.

“Ugh.”

“What?” she lifted her head.

“I’m gonna have to throw out these pants.”

Glancing down, she snorted at the obvious wet spot on the front of his slacks. Between her legs felt wet and sticky as well, the only evidence of what they’d been up to together in their shared dream.

“I feel like a teenager waking up from a wet dream again,” Robert complained, throwing his head back dramatically. Alice laughed, sitting up to kiss him. He cupped her face, smiling into the kiss.

“That happen often for you?” she snickered. He stroked her cheek.

“Only when I dreamed of you.”

“Cheesy,” she chastised fondly.

“Hey, you fucked your projection of me, you have no room to talk.”

She laughed, laying her head back down on his chest, arms wrapping around him. God, he was her absolute favorite.

“So…” he trailed off, fingers petting against her shoulder.

“Yes…?” she asked, glancing up at him.

“Was that better than with the projection?” 

“Oh, so is that what this was all about? You in some competition with yourself?” she asked with a smile, stretching up to kiss him again. “Much better,” she admitted, once they’d broken away. Robert grinned dorkily, chest puffing out proudly, and she snorted. Yes, definitely her favorite. “Shower?” she asked, pecking him again.

“Ugh. God, yes, please.”

She laughed, climbing off of him, taking his hands and helping to haul him up to his feet, kissing him joyfully as she let him walk her backwards towards the ensuite bathroom and the much anticipated shower.  

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[envihellbender]

An immobile feedee accidentally crushes their feeder to death

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Aspen, Damien (OCs)

Content: death feedism, feedee/feeder, fictional Reddit post

Summary: Gainer influencer tells the story about their dead feeder on AITA of all places.

r/AmITheAsshole

u/fatasspen [deactivated]

AITA for sleeping on top of my (29nb) partner (22m)? [Asshole]

So this is such a stupid thing but my partner’s family won’t let it go and are threatening legal action so I just wanna know if I’m actually in the wrong or not. I’m really certain I’m not but let’s see. Give it to me Reddit!

So, full disclosure I am 759lbs and something of an influencer in the weight gain community, I’m not a sex worker, I don’t do porn. I just show off my meals, you know that sort of thing. (I’m fatasspen on the gram & TikTok if anyone’s curious.) My partner, Damien, was reeeeally into it too. He actually used to feed me on camera, cook for me, film me, edit for me - he was the best. I really miss him! Anyway, his family never really got our lifestyle, used to make snide remarks when we went over for Christmas and Thanksgiving dinner and he’d hand feed me and insist on weighing me afterwards (said it was inappropriate. It’s not like we were fucking on the table?!!)

Anyway, so here’s what happened. Last night after he’d made me the best meal, stuffed me, and we did a good few videos, we started to get a little silly. I cannot stress enough that I was so full I couldn’t physically move at this point, but Damien loved feeling my weight on top of him! I have so many videos of him begging me to do it. He sometimes did it to feel safe, especially after phone calls with his mom and dad FYI. So he asked me to roll on top of him again, right? Hes begging me, he’s all “please Mama, I need to feel your flab all around me.” And I said sure but he has to help because he’s stuffed me soooo good. So he gets me on the hoist (we have our apartment filled with different mobility stuff for me to get around) and pulls me up. Then he lies down as he has done before and lowers me on top of him. Only this time it kinda went wrong. I knew it did instantly cause I heard a loud snap and some crunching noises, and he was really quiet, my Damien was never quiet. Maybe I should’ve moved then, cause I could feel how still he was underneath my huge, gigantic ass but … I was exhausted and stuffed. It’s not like I could’ve called an ambulance. Plus I was pretty sure he was dead so, he wasn’t gonna be any less dead if I called them then.

Whatever, so I call the ambulance in the morning after I wasn’t so stuffed and could roll off him, and I guess I kinda fucked hobby telling them I just woke up with him beneath me. I was so touched when I saw his corpse, he had a smile on his face and cum splattered over his belly. So he clearly was having a good time when he went. Anyway, so when his mom and dad found out they were furious. The hospital and police are investigating me because apparently it looks suspicious but I told them he was clearly having fun! I think they were made cause I guess his body rotted and got a little gross.

His parents have been calling me non-stop, screaming at me and telling me I killed their son. The cops have interviewed me and are opening up this whoooole investigation for no reason. We were two consenting adults who engaged in kink, we loved each other. His death was a tragic accident and I am very much mourning him too. Now his mom is even trying to stop me going to the funeral?? Can you believe that shit???

Anyway, Reddit… AITA?

Top Comments

u/mustardpackets72:

So I looked them up and something they left off was they posted photos of Damien after the event on their Instagram. Doesn’t look like he’s been rotting at all in it, but he does in the morning after ones. Fucking disgusting behaviour. I hope your fat ass gets the chair, OP. YTA.

u/remorsehorse replied:

Yeah I scrolled down and Damien looks starved and is bruised to hell. I don’t think he was there consensually…

u/stuffedworm64:

Grossest thing I’ve ever read… not convinced this isn’t fake and you’re not jacking it to this right now OP. YTA.

u/remorsehorse replied:

Its real …. Look at their socials. Yikes.

u/toastedpoptarts428

Okay so, I used to be a big fan of u/fatasspen before they met Damien and honestly none of this surprises me at all. I’m not sure why they’re lying, they have plenty of videos that are definitely porn. And it’s not like any of their fans are looking for anything different. Sure, I signed up to their Patreon and even paid for some custom content, I’m a freak whatever. I’m sure a lot of you have weirder fetishes so I’m just going to skip past that part. They’ve always had this image of the big fat mama who wants a cute feeder they can dominate and keep as a slave but it was always portrayed as like… a fantasy thing? Or so I thought until Damien appeared. In the first video on Patreon something didn’t look right, they introduced him as their new boyfriend. Except he wasn’t conscious. He was knocked out on a bed. Fatasspen said that it was just because he was so exhausted after a stuffing and fucking session. I got the ick immediately, I couldn’t explain it at the time. I commented asking about it but their fans shouted me down saying it was probably just a fantasy and to stop ruining the vibe.

At first Damien wasn’t really there. He was talking on camera a little solemnly but nothing too worrying. When he started showing up in pictures though is when I got really freaked out. His pupils were blown so much you couldn’t see his irises. He constantly had such bad bruising and cuts, his hair was greasy and whenever he spoke on camera his voice was really slurred. Me and a few others commented this and wanted FatAsspen to explain if it was a fantasy or not. We said if it was we’d shut up! Their little posse harassed us and eventually I got blocked from their Patreon, Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok. I tried reporting them but nothing came of it, and I didn’t know their address or name beyond Aspen (which may or may not be a pseudonym.)

I’m really sad it’s had this ending, and also… this isn’t the first partner they’ve had, it’s just the first one to help with their videos.

[lady-phasma]

Impenetrable

Chapter 1 of 5 (cross posted from AO3)

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Dar'Nîla (Togruta OFC)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, general smut, p in v sex in later chapters, D/s if you squint, plot if you squint. Written in first person fem!reader.

Summary a/n: Mando and Dar'Nîla meet and she's quite brazen. Reference images for Dar'Nîla after the cut. I wrote this during season 2, around episode 5. No beta. 2k words.

This is my reference for Dar'Nîla from the video game The Old Republic.

I saw him walk into the cantina. I watched him over the top of my mug as he went to the bar. You couldn’t not watch him. The beskar he was wearing was so new it reflected everything near him.

What could a Mandalorian possibly get at a bar? I thought. Do they use straws? No, that’s too banal.

I couldn’t stop staring. I knew he could feel all of us watching. But how many of those eyes were trying to determine how difficult it would be to seduce him while assuring him you wanted his armor to stay on? Probably only mine.

I sat my drink down, placed my front lekku meticulously to frame my breasts, and shimmied my shirt down just a little. The thin, white fabric pulled tight across the rise of my breasts and my purple skin shone through bright and unmistakable. The leather vest rode just below like a corset. I wasn’t great at being feminine but I could give a good show. My shitty, practical boots and plain leather pants were about as unfeminine as it could get. The one asset the pants had was how they stretched tight against and accentuated my ass. I checked the room and saw I had no competition so I stood, smoothed my pants over my hips, and walked to his table.

“Hi,” was somehow the best I could manage. I was never this forward.

His head turned, deliberately slow. I was immediately aware of the advantage he had over me: he could see facial expressions that I only had to guess at. This was going to be tough.

“Yes?” he responded.

I slid into the chair across from him and propped my elbows on the table, my breasts on my arms. I was going to make this easy for him because that would make it easier for me. One lek fell in front of my carefully arranged display and I brushed it aside.

“Um, yeah, hi! I’m Dar’Nîla,” I managed.

“Hi.”

“You don’t say much do you?” I beamed at him. “I’ve heard about you. They call you Mando.” I flashed my blue eyes at him.

“Some do.”

“ Can I call you that?” I played with a crumb on the table that I found, suddenly, much more fascinating than the blank surface of his helmet.

“Sure. What’s on your mind… Dar….?” He trailed off.

“‘Nîla,” I finished for him.

“Dar’Nîla, right. What’s on your mind?” he asked again.

I stammered. I’m never great at flirting and usually better at it when I don’t have a clue that I’m actually doing it. He was just so unsettling, so disarming. He was no one. Only what I projected onto him until he spoke or moved. Those were the only glimpses allowed into his personality. How could I possibly find something to flirt about? It was like talking to my reflection.

I investigated the table, ran a finger around an old ring from a glass. This place was filthy. But my mouth had gone incredibly dry. I flagged a hand at a waitress and ordered another beer. I looked him in the eye.

“What’s on my mind is that I would very much like to have a beer with you, ahem, near you is more accurate I guess, get to know you a little better, and then try to get you in my pants since there’s very little chance I could get in yours.” I blurted all of this out at once so that he couldn’t interrupt me and so I wouldn’t lose my courage.

That was the best possible moment for my beer to arrive. I buried my face in it and looked up at him. His head was tilted just slightly. Curious? Maybe. Offended? He hadn’t run for the door. Yet.

“Well, Dar’Nîla, that was quite the speech. Did you have anything specific in mind?” he asked.

I could feel his eyes on me and hear the smirk on his lips. I don’t know if he’d had one or one hundred women but he definitely knew how to manipulate me. I gulped some more beer, mostly to give myself time to think of an appropriate answer.

“Ummmm we could sit here and talk, since you’re so chatty and all, or we could get me some dinner and make our way back to your place. Get to know you better along the way?” I looked into my beer as I said the last bit. I couldn’t look at him. I was able to say all that about pants a moment ago and now I only wanted to crawl under the table. He made me feel like he was pure and I was… was what? Unclean for having these thoughts. But I knew that wasn’t true from the way he moved. The way he stayed.

His movements were slow and deliberate. He stood and reached for my hand at the same time. His gloved fingers lifted mine and I followed. I dropped some credits on the table for the beer before we walked out.

The suns were setting. The street vendors’ food crackled over fires and the smells drifted and mingled around us. I was working hard at playing it cool. I was quite sure I was not succeeding. I made a lot of assumptions about him. I assumed he wouldn’t be eating. He probably ate alone. So I stopped at a food stall and swapped some credits for a meat on a stick. Not sure what it was exactly but the sizzling fat smelled delicious. We carnivores aren’t terribly picky eaters when we’re very hungry. I tore off a mouthful.

“So, do this often, do you?” I asked as I chewed and swallowed. I was so nervous around him that I forgot all of my manners. He completely disarmed me.

“No.”

Fuck, would I ever get more than one word out of this man? I licked sauce off of my finger and looked at my boots as we walked. When I looked up he was staring at me.

“Me either,” I said. “In fact, I don’t really talk to people I don’t know. I just… I don’t know, I thought I would risk it.”

I looked back at my feet and blushed. Hard. I could feel the heat rise from my neck, first deep violet then light pink as it hit my white cheeks. All the way up my montrals and down my lekku. Sheesh. This was embarrassing.

I felt him pause. I stopped a step ahead and turned back. He seemed to be searching for something, listening maybe. God it was so hard to tell with that helmet. He turned and looked past me.

“Here,” he said and he slid a hand around mine and started walking. I’m glad he had his back to me because my mouth hung open. I shook myself out of the shock and followed.

He gave a few credits to a man selling frozen, shaved juices. I stood, mutely, watching his movements. His head tilted just enough for me to imagine he was smiling. Maybe his helmet was more expressive than I thought. He handed me the shaved ice. The evening was hot even after the suns set. I wouldn’t have thought to get this treat for myself but since he was buying. Why not? Bounty hunters aren’t hard up for credits.

I stared at the cone of ice as if I had forgotten how to eat. I looked up at him questioningly.

“I would like to watch you eat it,” he said. It was flat with no inflection. I couldn’t object or give it back to him. I couldn’t tell him he was weird and to keep his stupid shaved juice. In fact, I wanted the opposite. My body tingled like I had touched a live wire. I wanted to perform for him. I looked directly at him and licked the sweet ice. The movements of his helmet were almost invisible but once I knew what to look for I began to see them more clearly. This one seemed to be focus, intensity, just the slightest forward tilt. I tasted it again. My face was on fire. I wanted to die from embarrassment. I could guess a million reasons he wanted this but none of them mattered.

There was nothing in the world at that moment but the two of us. The noise of the street around us faded away. I could see my distorted reflection in his helmet and that inspired me to take a longer lick from my ice. I closed my eyes, wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. He took a step closer to me. This could not actually be happening to me. This was all a fantasy I created and I was still sitting in the cantina.

No. He walked closer and put a hand on the small of my back. He guided me toward an alley. He was touching me. I felt like I was shaking all over. We stopped a few feet into the alley. He took the cone from my hand and dropped it by my feet. I was frozen. What was happening? The Mandalorian actually wanted me? He wanted something. I wasn’t sure what but here we were.

He stepped toward me and I moved back so that I was pressed against the dusty wall. He put his hand on it beside my head. His body turned away from the street so that his cape hid me almost entirely. I exhaled. I had been holding my breath but in this small world he created for us I started to relax. To feel less embarrassed.

“Well?” he said. He was so cryptic. This air of mystery was almost overdone. Almost an act, yet… yet not.

“Well…” I replied. “I’m beginning to think this is all on your terms, so what would you like?”

He thought about this for a moment. His free hand started up and then fell back to his side. His helmet moved slightly. Then his hand was on my waist. Gentle but squeezing just a bit. I tried hard not to react but his grip was strong. I grazed my fingers over the vambrace on his forearm. His fingers tensed when I touched the metal. I traced a line up his arm and then down to his chest. Trying to read his mind was excruciating.

Slowly, letting him see the direction of each movement as it began, I placed one hand on his side and the other on the vambrace near my head. I felt the rough fabric of his shirt under my palm, the muscles underneath moving with his breath. I slid my hand around to the small of his back and pulled him closer. I pushed my hips out to meet his. I moaned through my teeth when I finally felt his body on mine.

The cuisses covering his thighs were hard against my legs. But that wasn’t all that was hard. I moved my hips just enough to feel that, yes, The Mandalorian was enjoying himself. I had read his mind well enough it seemed. I moved my hand down to his ass and pressed against him as much as either of us could stand.

He muttered something and abruptly grabbed my waist with both hands. He almost picked me up as he moved me away from him. He placed me at arms length with the concentration a child has with the placement of a doll. I think he really wanted to tell me to “stay put” or something like that. So, I crossed my arms across my chest, jutted one hip out, and pouted.

When he saw the look on my face he shook his head.

“My ship isn’t far from here,” he said.

[wheeliefarts]

hi guys, my names tyler and i’m new to being open about my fart fetish, i mostly closeted myself for fear of disgust and judgement. which i’m sure a lot of you understand.

I will be sharing stories from when my ex used to rip ass in front of me. This is the introduction post.

i remember when i told my ex about my fetish for farts for the first time. it was when he farted in front of me for the first time ever, actually.

for context, i am in a wheelchair and have cerebral palsy.

i remember we came back from his parents place from having dinner with them. i was on his computer changing his password for him on some streaming service. i had told him in the past while knowing him it’s okay to fart in front of me, i wont judge as i am a gassy person myself. he kept that in the back of his mind for what im about to tell you.

as i finished changing the password for him, he came up behind the chair i was sitting in, towering over me, as he leans to kiss my head to thank me, he rips the loudest, semi-long fart and begins to laugh hysterically. at that moment, i feel my dick starting to get aroused so i quickly adjust myself when he’s still laughing, almost in tears from laughing so hard.

surprisingly, it didn’t smell at all. we laugh together, then after a few minutes i told him i needed to tell him something, but im really scared to. he then transfers me onto the couch with him and reassures me that i can tell him anything without judgement. i then took a deep breath and confessed about my fetish, almost like im rushing to get it out, saying it really fast. he holds my hands and asks me to slow down, so that is when i told him, “i have a fetish for guys farting and i’m just really scared for being judged. you’re the first person i’ve confessed this in real life to.” he then hugged me and began to ask me questions.

“what is it about farts you like?”

i then told him how it’s mainly the sound for me, as i wasn’t comfortable with smelling or face-sitting, don’t know if i still am or not yet.

he asked me to give scenarios and situation examples, so i pointed out what he just did a few minutes prior was very hot and arousing to me, him leaning his butt to one side when sitting, feeling him fart as i sit in his lap, farting in the car while driving, him trying to get my attention to hear him fart, holding in farts for when we’re alone in public, that kind of thing.

he then hugged me and smiled and thanked me again for expressing myself and reassured me that he doesn’t judge me at all. as i begin to let go from the sweet embrace, he holds me tighter and says, “ready?” he says quickly before letting out a muffled fart on the couch and then gives me a kiss and wink before the smell hits and we both laugh in disbelief (lolol)

i then became aroused and we had sex.

in the course of our relationship he would do the following:

- would fart openly when he had to and would blame it on me, even when his best friends would be over, jokingly blaming them as well. especially when gaming online, with his buddies.

- would cuddle me and fart every morning to make sure i felt it and heard it. sometimes it would lead to humping and farting also.

- would publicly fart in isles when it would just be the two of us and jokingly blame it on me.

- would fart in the car, often when entering and exiting.

- sometimes he would jokingly fart in my face, laugh and then feel bad and kiss me and apologize.

like i previously stated, it’s mainly the sound for me that arouses me, but now that i’ve been reading a lot of other posts and seeing a lot of more fetish content on other socials, it’s got me curious and open to the idea of fart-sniffing / face-sitting. it’s still a lingering feeling of curiosity though. but i would be open to at least trying it one day, i think.

i miss him and his farts to be honest, but i know ill find someone just the same, maybe even gassier than him.

so this concludes the time i first opened up to my ex about my fart fetish. :)

More to share in the future. :)

[ejzah]

A/N: Back again after far too long. Hope it’s worthwhile for anon who inquired about this story recently.

***

One Wrong Move, Part 3

Deeks paced, silently counting the steps from one side of his room to other. By now, he had the exact number memorized, and the monotonous activity no longer kept his mind distracted enough to keep out his worries.

As far as hospital rooms went, it wasn’t terrible; it was larger than usual, and had suspiciously comfy chairs. The walls comprised mostly of glass and large hazard sign that covered the door, destroyed any question of why we was here. Although blinds were drawn at the moment, Deeks knew that could change if his status deteriorated.

Fortunately, the hospital staff let him keep his street clothes, for now, which helped with the illusion of normalcy just the tiniest bit. The port in the back of his hand for quick access to blood and administration of medication, not so much.

Every minute felt like a horrific countdown to an inevitably unpleasant end.

The door slid open behind him with a whoosh and he turned around, expecting another doctor or nurse to check his blood pressure, temperature. Instead, he found Kensi hesitating in the doorway.

They’d only been apart for a couple hours while she updated the rest of the team, but his relief at seeing her was instantaneous. “Kensi. Are you sure you should be in here?” As happy as he was to see her, he couldn’t increase her exposure.

“Yes, baby, it’s ok,” Kensi assured him, coming into the room so the door slid closed again with a definitive click, closing them on together. “The same precautions as before.”

“I guess that’s good. What’s going on with Fadel?” he asked, more for something to say than because he was actually curious.

“Sam and Callen took his statement; he confessed to everything. Now he’s receiving treatment under armed guard.” She paused, and Deeks wondered if she was thinking about the likelihood that Fadel Ali would actually make it. “Everyone sends their thoughts by the way.”

Kensi smiled softly. “Nell said you better get back fast because Velma needs her Shaggy.”

Deeks managed a grim smile.

“For sure.”

“And Sam threatened to kick you ass if you even think of getting sick.”

He actually chuckled at that, nodding at the predictability of Sam using threats as encouragement.

“Now that is, uh, truly terrifying.”

Kensi nodded, her lower lip trembling. It broke his heart to watch her struggle and not be able to do anything about it. Pulling in a breath, she regained some control, though any signs of forced humor were gone.

“How are you doing? I mean, really?” she asked softly.

“So far I’m ok. They have me on this experimental antibody treatment,” he explained, shrugging. “Apparently it’s still in the testing phases, but the military has access and I signed off on using it. So I guess that’s awesome.” He looked downward, not really seeing. “Otherwise, it’s just an agonizing wait until something happens.”

“Deeks,” Kensi whispered unevenly.

“I wish I could touch you so bad,” he admitted, lifting his head. The three yards between them might have been an endless gulf.

“Maybe there’s a way.” Kensi walked across the room, and grabbed a couple sets of latex gloves. She pulled a pair on, handing the other to Deeks. “One of the doctors said this was alright until—for now.”

Deeks stayed still, a glove dangling from his hand.

“I know it’s not the same, but I guess it’s the next best thing,” Kensi said, soundly oddly shy. Slowly, she lifted her hand, taking what felt lie, an eternity to cup his cheek. When she made contact, he closed his eyes.

No, it wasn’t anything like actually feeling Kensi’s skin on his, but it was better than nothing. Sighing deeply, he leaned into her touch. He tugged on a glove, struggling in his eagerness to get it on, and reached out until he found her cheek.

“Thank you,” he murmured. They stayed that way for a few minutes without speaking, just basing on each other’s presence.

“Deeks,” Kensi said suddenly, her voice rising on his name with enough alarm that he opened his eyes. “You feel really warm.”

***

A/N: I know that there’s all kind of reasons why Kensi wouldn’t be allowed to hang out with Deeks without more PPE and they wouldn’t be allowed to touch, but we’re ignoring that, ok?

As far as the medication I mentioned, it’s an actual treatment for Ebola, but was not approved until 2020. I figure it wouldn’t be totally outlandish to think the military would have access.

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3 || My Website

The valentine on Jon’s desk had Martin written all over it, in every way but literal. It was done in an elaborate old-fashioned style, fitting with that retro aesthetic he liked, huge and dark red and trimmed in a delicate white lace shot through with silver. Across the front in gold ink was a syrupy love poem praising Jon’s eyes, hair, voice, and general sense of style, using a few rather forced rhymes and clearly patterned on Keats, and written in a delicate, ornate script. It was signed “Your Secret Admirer”, but the I had been replaced with a drawing of an actual eye, winking flirtatiously. It had also been taped to a tin of chocolate-covered biscuits specially manufactured for Valentine’s Day. In short, it was a grand, over-the-top gesture designed to either make Jon swoon or die of embarrassment, with the additional risk that he might explode with rage.

Jon set it on the edge of his desk and tried to ignore it, waiting for the person who’d put it there to come back and see how he was taking it.

Soon enough, the door creaked open. “Hey, I—what the fuck is that?”

“A llama,” Jon said, as calmly and dryly as he could, without looking up from the tapes scattered over his desk.

“You’re an ass.” There was no real heat in Melanie’s voice, though, as she shut the door and pulled up the chair opposite him, then reached for the valentine. “Oh, God, did you make this?”

“No, it was on my desk when I came in this morning.” Jon glanced at the clock on his laptop. “Bit surprised nobody’s come in to ask about it.”

Melanie’s face screwed up into something indescribable as she read the poem. It was like she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or throw up. “Why did you let me see this?”

Jon raised an eyebrow at her. “In the first place, I didn’t know you were coming. But now you have, I’m hoping you can help me come up with a suitable way to get back at Tim for this, since I can’t fire him.”

Melanie burst out laughing, setting down the valentine. “Oh, thank God, I was afraid I was going to have to shove Martin into the Thames.”

“Yes, well, Tim obviously meant for me to think this was from Martin, but the handwriting slants in the wrong direction,” Jon pointed out. “This was clearly done with a fountain pen. Martin couldn’t have written like this without dragging his hand or sleeve through the wet ink and smearing the whole thing. Also, he knows I’m not overly fond of this brand of biscuits.”

“You should bring it to the bookshop after work today. Get the rest to go with you. Give it to G—to the proprietor in front of everyone and tell him Tim was too shy to deliver it himself. Then do me a favor and take a picture of his face so I can see it later.”

At that, Jon couldn’t help but start laughing too. “You won’t be coming?”

Instantly, Melanie sobered. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I, um—I think the time has come for me to make a statement about…you know. Our research.”

Jon became serious as well and reached for the tape recorder. He knew Melanie wasn’t talking about the Unknowing.

In the time between Melanie getting off the phone with Martin and Jon being discharged from the hospital up Sheffield way, they’d come to a mutual understanding regarding what had happened at the scrap yard. Namely, that despite the fact that both of them knew the risks—Melanie perhaps more than Jon, although he’d always been a quick study—they were going to keep investigating. At first they’d said, or maybe just pretended, it was because of the possibility that the Slaughter was preparing for a ritual, but since Gerry said they didn’t have to worry about it, it was harder to admit they really believed that. The trouble was that they were both…fascinated. Curious. It might have been the Eye, it might have been the Slaughter trying to lure them both in, it might just have been that they were drawn to a challenge and a good mystery, but whatever it was, they hadn’t been able to leave it alone.

“Hypothetically speaking, how much trouble am I going to get in if Martin gets hold of this tape?” he asked as he hit RECORD. No sense in even making a pretense at using the laptop.

Melanie snorted. “Not nearly as much as I am. I mean, you’re still relatively new to all this. I’ve been dealing with this bullshit since I was eight. I should know better. And here I led you right into it.”

“It didn’t take all that much leading, to be honest,” Jon admitted. “Right, let’s—let’s get this started. Statement of Melanie King, regarding her further researches into war ghosts. Recorded direct from subject, fourteenth February, 2017.” He nodded at her. “Statement begins.”

Melanie took a deep breath. “Ghost Hunt UK struggled after Aldershot. I was honestly not in the best place in the world at the time to begin with—I’d just lost my oldest brother a couple months before, and I was ‘dealing’ with that by bottling it up and ignoring it, but I was distracted more than I wanted to admit. Sarah Baldwin disappeared. I spent a while trying to track her down, but nothing led anywhere, and I was afraid to push too hard. I think I knew there was something…off about her, and I had a guess as to what it was, so I was admittedly a lot more fixated on the ghost. It wouldn’t go on the recording, that’s what hit me. Things that won’t record properly are always dangerous. I didn’t dig into it too much at the time either, because a part of me wondered if Sarah was what made it go wonky, but it stuck with me.

“The others were dealing with their own stuff. We struggled along for another year, but it wasn’t the same. Toni was the worst. She just got harder and harder to pin down, and when she moved to Bristol in the end, she didn’t even tell me. I had to hear it from Pete, who told me at the same time that he was thinking of leaving, too. That’s about when I came to make my statement, and truthfully…I didn’t actually intend to make it about the incident at the CMH. I was going to…I don’t know, give you something you could have proved was false? It was just an excuse, really. I wanted—needed—to talk to Martin, and I had to say something to get past the harridan at the front desk, so I said I was coming to make a statement. But after it came out…I realized how it sounded, and I just couldn’t let it go. That helped when Andy decided to take what he called ‘a bit of a holiday’ and moved out of the house. As far as Ghost Hunt UK is concerned, he’s still on holiday, and it’s just me.”

She kept going, detailing the paths she’d followed, the research she’d poked into, the way she’d been subtly or not-so-subtly warned off by the few contacts she’d had left in the ghost-hunting world. Jon had heard most of this before, on the trip north to visit her family, but he listened intently anyway, especially when she got into how she’d found out about the scrap yard and made arrangements to stay with her great-aunt.

“That’s when I brought you in,” she said. “When I first got started with Ghost Hunt UK, I promised my brothers that if I ever ran into anything like that, I’d tell them right away, that I wouldn’t go into situations like that without backup. But Martin was still recovering from the attack on the Institute—maybe not physically, but mentally. If he gets too close to this sort of thing too soon after a major incident, he’s more…vulnerable to it, and I was scared to death of losing him. And I trusted you—not just to have my back if things went south, but to, you know, understand what we were doing. Maybe there was also a little bit of knowing you wouldn’t stop me from investigating further. Martin would have gone into big brother mode, and honestly he would have been right to, but I just…I had to know.”

“I know what that’s like,” Jon admitted.

“I know you do.” Melanie gave him a quick smile. “I don’t think I need to go into detail about what we went through at that scrap yard, since you were with me. And thank God you were, because I was…I was fascinated by that ghost we saw, the one with the scalpel. I wouldn’t have gotten away in time if you hadn’t pushed me out of the way, and I almost certainly would have been caught by security. I didn’t want you to get hurt in my place, but…I’m glad you were there.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway. Once we got back to London and…things settled down a bit, I took that serial number you found on the car and looked it up. It was from World War II, you were right. The Eleventh US Army Hospital train, operating in the European theater from August 1944. The train crew was even commended for their service.”

“But…” Jon prompted.

“It crashed in April 1945. Derailed, killed five crew and seriously injured fourteen more. There weren’t any patients on board at the time—at least, not officially. We both know how that goes,” Melanie added, her eyes darkening slightly. Jon winced in sympathy. “There was only one steel car that avoided derailment.”

“The one in Rotherham.”

“Exactly. There’s not a lot of information on it, though, and I’ve no idea how it ended up there. So that’s when I asked you to get me into the library.”

Jon blinked. “I—I didn’t think of that, actually. Our library is extensive, but it’s hardly focused on the Second World War.”

Melanie grinned. “No, but the most detailed description of the crash came from a man named William W. Hay. And later in life, William Hay…”

“Became a noted occultist,” Jon completed, feeling a grin split his own face, “whose memoirs and researches were only ever published in a heavily edited form. And we have original copies.”

“Exactly.”

“What did you find?”

“Plenty. He served on the Eleventh Hospital Train as an engineer, and there was a lot he had to say about it. They even let me make a photocopy.” Melanie handed Jon a sheet of paper that felt far too flimsy for the weight it undoubtedly bore.

He read it out loud, slowly and distinctly. It wasn’t much, just a brief description of atrocities committed that had left Hay wholly sympathetic to the train’s derailment, but at the end, it also included a cryptic reference to an incident at the infirmary at Amritsar. Jon knew where that was, more or less—he wasn’t intimately familiar with Indian geography, but it was at least the same end of the country that his grandmother’s people had come from, so he’d done some studying of the region. And he certainly knew who the Ghurkhas were. The passage, short as it was, chilled him to the bone.

“I see,” he said, lowering the paper. “So does this mean…?”

“Yes,” Melanie said with a nod. “And I’ve already got my plane ticket to India booked.”

A spike of alarm, mingled with curiosity, shot through Jon. He scanned her face a bit anxiously. “Are you certain that’s wise?”

“Probably not,” Melanie replied honestly. “But I’ve got to go. I can’t let this go. You know that.”

“I know.” Jon shot a glance at his laptop. If he could justify this to Elias…“Perhaps it would be safer if I went with you.”

Melanie winced. “Under any other circumstances, I’d jump on that, honestly, but—no, I don’t think so. Not with that scar on your shoulder. This…whatever it is, it’s made a much deeper impression on you than it has on me. I might get lucky and be able to escape it. Worst-case scenario, I’ll probably just end up with a nasty injury that lays me up for a few days. If you come along, I think it’ll stir up worse and increase the risk that neither of us make it out alive. So, thanks, but no. I’ve got to do this on my own.”

Jon wasn’t entirely sure he agreed with that last part, but he did have to admit she was probably right about not taking him. “One more question, then. Have you told…ah…anyone other than me that you’re going?” They were careful not to mention Gerry anywhere Elias might overhear, at least not by name, but the specter of Melanie’s brothers hung between them as though they were right there.

“I told my boss at the bookstore,” Melanie said with the briefest of flickers in her eyes. “Or at least I told him I was going out of town. Didn’t tell him the specifics. And…well, Martin was at lunch when I got here, but I’ve got time before I need to get to Gatwick, especially since I’m not bringing any luggage, so I figure I’ll wait a bit and say goodbye before I go. Uh, I’m—not going to tell him what I’m heading to research, either.”

Jon shouldn’t be encouraging that level of concealment, but, he rationalized, Martin likely wouldn’t be able to go with her if he did know, and he’d just worry excessively. Maybe he would let him listen to the tape once Melanie was well on her way.

He would undoubtedly kill both of them, but at the same time, they had to know.

“I understand,” he said finally. “Thank you, Melanie.”

“Yeah,” Melanie said softly. She stood up and held out her arms.

Jon got up as well and hugged her fiercely. He didn’t need any kind of supernatural ability to know that she was more afraid than she was letting on. The thrill of the research, the curiosity about what they had seen and felt and discovered, may have driven her to this point, but she had a healthy respect for, if not fear of, death, and she knew what she was risking. He knew it, too, but he also knew that wasn’t going to stop either of them. His warnings were on the record, and he had to admit that if their positions were reversed, he wouldn’t have hesitated in going either, frightened or not.

“Please be careful,” he implored her. “You know what it would do to Martin if he lost you.” He tried for a laugh. “And I’ve grown to rather like having you around myself.”

Melanie managed a laugh, too. “I’ll be as careful as I can, mate.” She squeezed him extra hard for a moment, then eased back—reluctantly, it seemed to Jon. He, too, let go slowly. “Shouldn’t be more than a couple weeks. Three at the most. I’ve got the automatic feeder set up, but if you could maybe pop in and make sure there’s water if you get the chance…”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” Melanie smiled. “And, uh, I’ll turn in that library pass on my way out. Do I have to go back and leave it with Diana?”

“No, you can leave it with Rosie. She honestly handles most of the paperwork for the Institute.”

“Which one’s Rosie?” Melanie flushed slightly under Jon’s raised eyebrows. “I, uh, don’t talk to a lot of people Upstairs if I can help it. I only know Diana because you introduced me, really. It’s not like everyone else walks around with name tags or anything.”

“True,” Jon admitted. “Rosie is Elias’ personal assistant-cum-secretary. She’s also the, ah, front of house, I suppose, for the Institute. Normally when we have people come to give us statements, she’s the one who calls down to tell us.” He paused. “In point of fact, she called to tell me you were coming, the first time you came to give your statement.”

“Oh, yeah, her, okay.” Melanie pursed her lips slightly. “I haven’t seen her around since then, actually. Where does she sit?”

“More or less right in front as you walk in. She’s just outside Elias’ office.” Which made sense, if she was Elias’ personal assistant, but also gave her way too much knowledge about the comings and goings of the Institute. Jon had long ago told Melanie to use the side door when she came in, so it wasn’t unreasonable that she’d found one of the back stairs to avoid having to go past Rosie’s desk on her way to the library. Frankly, Jon avoided her as much as he could, which wasn’t much, since he was constantly in and out of Elias’ office for meetings and whatnot. She was sweet enough, but…

“Huh.” Melanie’s frown deepened. “Is she out sick?”

“What?” Jon blinked at Melanie. “No, she—she should be in. I saw her this morning.”

“Who covers her breaks, then?”

“I—I don’t know that she takes them, actually. Why?”

Melanie shrugged. “Didn’t recognize the woman at the desk, that’s all.”

Jon thought back to the last time Melanie had been in. “Ah. Maybe she had her back to you? She’s dyed her hair again. I swear she does it at least once a month. It was, um, chestnut last time, wasn’t it? Last week she went to a kind of blue-black.”

It was Melanie’s turn to blink at him. “Yeah, that’s the woman I saw today. Didn’t have her back to me, though, we talked—she was as sweet as anything. Who was that?”

“Rosie,” Jon said, a bit exasperated.

“Then who the hell called me down the first time I was here?” Melanie said, sounding equally exasperated. “That woman was at least a foot taller, thin face, long pointed nose, straight grey hair. Seemed offended by my existence, which is why I had to think so fast to give her an excuse to get down to the Archives. I watched her make the call—you’re telling me that wasn’t Rosie?”

“I—what?” Jon’s stomach churned with unease, and he couldn’t really say why.

Melanie started to answer, then cocked her head towards the door. “I hear Martin. I should probably go say goodbye before I lose my chance and then get going.” She gave Jon another quick hug. “Be careful while I’m gone, yeah? Martin won’t want to lose you either.”

Jon hugged her back and resolved to sort through the conflicting roil of emotions he was currently feeling once she was gone. “I will. Safe travels, Melanie. Call if you need anything.”

“Sure.” Melanie gave him a wavering smile, then turned and stepped out of the office. “Martin, hey!”

The door closed behind her, and Jon sank into his chair, then glanced at the tape, which he belated realized was still running. “Uh. End recording.” He pressed the STOP button, and the tape shut off with a sharp snap.

If he was being honest, and he was trying very hard to be, the only part of Melanie’s statement that had actually shaken him was that last bit. He knew Rosie. Of course he knew Rosie. She’d been a fixture at the Institute since long before he’d come to work there—probably since before Martin had come to work there. She was always cheery and kind to everyone, but seemed to have a special smile for Martin. Always greeted Jon warmly when he came in, asked after his health when he came back from physical therapy, warned him if the reason he was being called to Elias’ office was a transgression or a praise. He knew her almost better than he knew anyone else outside the Archives.

Right?

What was it Michael—no, not Michael, the Distortion—what had it said after he got done calling up to Rosie when Helen Richardson finished her statement? Do you even know they’re lying to you? He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, hadn’t been able to focus on the words over his sudden surge of fear, and afterwards, back in his flat with Martin fussing over him and time to think clearly, he’d just assumed it was calculated to make him paranoid. After all, the Distortion hadn’t specified who “they” were.

But now…

Jon looked back at the tapes on his desk. Basira had brought them just that Friday, really to Martin, but they had all sort of communally agreed to store them in Jon’s office. He’d been sifting through them, looking for where to start. And now…he had an idea.

He skimmed the labels, looking for the one he’d noticed earlier. Like most of Gertrude’s tapes, the labels made little sense until you actually listened to them, and not all of them had corresponding file numbers written on the fronts. The one Jon was looking for had, but what had caught his attention was the title written above it…

Ah. There it was. Jon reached over and plucked up the tape with a single word written across its front: Changeling.

Before he could change his mind, he took the tape he’d used to record Melanie out and put Gertrude’s in, then hit PLAY.

The details of the statement may not have been what he expected, insofar as he’d expected anything at all, but the sum and substance was exactly what he’d feared. A woman had gone to her parents’ home only to find a woman everyone else seemed to believe was her mother, but the woman she remembered had been vastly different, in appearance and personality. Only the woman who’d given the statement seemed to remember her real mother. In her summing-up, Gertrude noted that the being—she called it a Not-Them—had left for good after the father’s death two days after the statement was given. She seemed remarkably blasé about the whole thing, really, and Jon wanted to be annoyed with her about that. What caught his attention, though, was her casual statement: Personally, I suspect it to be an aspect of the Stranger, though that’s entirely conjecture at this point.

The tape clicked off. Jon barely noticed it.

He thought back to the morning after the attack on the Institute, the conversation they’d had, first around Melanie’s kitchen table and then in her living room, about the statements they’d researched and the Fears they related to. Amy Patel’s statement, and the thing that was obviously not her friend Graham. The thing that isn’t Graham is the Stranger. Martin, at least, had sounded so sure…

Well. Jon trusted Martin far more than he trusted Gertrude Robinson. If the thing that had pretended to be Graham Folger and the thing that had pretended to be Rose Cooper were the same thing, then they were both of the Stranger. And…oh, God. The table. Was it tied to the table somehow? Lucy Cooper hadn’t mentioned one in her statement, but—it had to be, it just had to.

There was one more clue. Gertrude had mentioned a previous statement from this Adelard Dekker character—maybe Martin would know that name as well, although he seemed older, so who knew—and if Jon could find that, if he could read it…he wouldn’t trust the tapes, so few of them were correctly labeled, but the nineties were a bit more organized than they had been. He ought to be able to find it. And then…and then he would know.

No, he was stalling. He knew now. Breekon and Hope had delivered that damned table to the Institute. Rosie had signed for it—cheerfully, wanting to help, not wanting to bother him—or, no, was that just the Rosie he remembered? The Rosie whose memories had replaced the real ones? From Melanie’s description, maybe she had been annoyed, maybe she’d signed for it because she thought it would be easier—that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Rosie had signed for it. It was in Artifact Storage. Rosie must have gone to have another look at it, sometime after the attack…

Jon took a deep, steadying breath and got up. A plan was beginning to form in his mind. It was about time for his lunch break anyway. He would go out and—and get the supplies he would need, and then he would come back and find that statement, just to confirm what he already knew. And then…and then he would do what he could.

He suspected he wouldn’t be able to bring Rosie back. But he could make the thing that had taken her place pay for it.