#it just messed up the flow to put it at the bottom

[constantlyfalling]

First Beach - La Push - Quileute Nation

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, inexperienced choso, unprotected, missionary, praise, he’s very whipped, premature ejac, mdni.

pussydrunk choso who’s well over a hundred years old yet still doesn’t know where the clit is.

not until you show him,

as he’s already starting to feel himself pathetically bottom out, his bottom lip quivers and gets tugged underneath his teeth. he whines at your loose grip that wails out a ring through each of his sensitive pointed ears. through murky blown irises, you stare at him whilst tears of sweat race down each side of his sheeny slick forehead. while choso’s ensnared with the help of your plush thighs keeping his torso secure—he’s panting out puffs and puffs of air breathlessly.

with the way you’re like this—underneath him, locking your legs around his waist, making love to him with your eyes, he’s so weak. “gonna make you feel so good, baby,” and of course, there’s a tremor of a crack in his voice. you and choso both knew he wasn’t gonna last. already, you start to feel him mercilessly shudder above you. your warmth alone was enough to make him a twitching, stammering mess. the fattened girth of his cock stretches you whole and it’s never felt more snug. slinging weak arms around his tensed up shoulders, your wet lips press a chaste kiss against his tapered chin. “ngh, please—baby,” he choked up, your feverish touch and your viscid walls making his brain short circuit. the smooth flats of your ankles runs up and down his back before he slowly tries to start up a stroke or two. but your grip, his eyes widen and his jaw dangles open at your warmth from the inside. the minute sloppy friction introduces itself to your insides, he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “baby, think ‘m gonna d- die.”

“no choso, you’re just about to cum.”

“o- oh.”

you feel him stiffen up out of embarrassment—

a vermillion hue of heat flushes up from his ears and sprays down to his neck before he nibbles at your neck.

nip after nip, he’s savoring your flavorless taste before he achingly pistons his hips forward. even still, he’s trying to thrust forward but your soaked walls were no match for him. there was a fuzziness in his ears and his heart raced quicker and quicker from each individual stroke. “f- fuck,” he swears, leaning into your tender touch once your palms cup his face. choso’s hair was unkempt—instead of darkened raven ponytails, his hair was freely down and flowed down the tips of his conic sculpted shoulders. “baby, am i doing it right?”

“y- yes,” you nod, entrapping his slim waist with your legs. your hold was firmly secure, he’s vigorously rutting into you—mashing his pearly mushroom tip against that spot repeatedly before you whimper. balmy tepid pants ghost against your skin before you feel your cunt starting to constrict around his length. “right there, ‘cho. mhm, just like that.”

choso swallows, tasting a lingering concoction of sweetness on his tongue before his head throws itself back, and oh it’s a sight.

as he’s grinding his hips into you, his pectorals flex, showcasing just how built he really was.

perfectly sculpted abs, he’s got a bit of a few mole marks near his hip.

his body, he steadily rolled his hips inside of you through and through - so good, he’s basically humping you. he’s hot, but to him, you’re hotter.

choso’s eyes flicker back until all that’s shown for a few seconds were pure white. gnawing on the by inside of his cheek, his ears twitch—feeling the individual pulses of your cunt kiss against the swollen crown head of his cock. “please,” he whimpers out a beg. slumping into your chest, sticky bodies sway against each other in sync. “i can finish inside, r- right baby? please, ‘s so much to give you. i don’t wanna be a mess just by myself . . please.”

and every few seconds, he purposely grows quiet just to hear the repetitive sloshes of your pussy. you’re so wet - putting literal faucets to shame.

“you can cum inside, baby. ‘s okay,”

as those angelic words pour out of your lips, he can’t help but lean in—getting rid of the distance between you both. moaning into your mouth, his lips roughly crash onto yours and his hips concur into its final snap.

the bed grew more and more rickety from both amounts of weight - so much so that it’s crying, creaking in pleasure as both bodies mirror each rhythmic movement. his pace was relentless, and by now he’s just unapologetically stuffing you full of inches.

he’s drooling, he can’t help it. all down your neck, it’s a puddle of glossy saliva dribbling down your collarbone and he licks it right up.

“s- sorry, ‘m sorry. don’t mean to be messy,” he babbles into your neck, already broken from how whipped your cunt made him. it’s as if you had some sort of nectar, he was addicted just like that. he laps up his own saliva that dribbles down your neck and he feels your back arch in debleating rapture. your heart quickens it’s irregular thumps as you hold onto his bulky arms, moaning from his thoroughly precise angle. it’s sloppy, but regardless, he was hitting each crevice of your cunt rigorously, not missing a spot. he couldn’t afford to, not when you felt this good. “so sorry, ‘m sorry.”

his broken whispers coo into the shell of your ear as a whiff of peppermint breath wafts against your nose—and finally, he cums.

it’s so much, choso officially loses it the moment he shoots a thick satiny ropes inside of your weeping walls. fervently, your knees buckle and his potent makes him collapse against your gentle hold. it’s hot, milky creamy strings of cum fill into your gummy walls and he’s speechless for a moment. his base gets coated with a sloppy ring and his eyes go half lidded.

black lashes flutter and his face scrunches up in awe - the darkened slanted mark that paints all over the bridge of his nose curves up. it’s so cute, he’s weakly trying to plummet further into your cunt but instead falls right into your chest.

“c-choso,” you huff out a airy moan, feeling his tongue flick up against your tender exposed nipples. a hand of yours rake through his hair, tickling against his undercut before his hips buckle. the half curse silences you with a needy kiss, rocking his body against you even still, wads of cum pour deep down your thighs and he can’t help but fuck it right back into you. with a swift motion, his hips reel back in and his tongue delves into your mouth — craving access. as strands of saliva mix and mash with each other, he sucks on your tongue. “mhh,” and he’s still cumming hard, barred rough hands with a added gentle touch creeps down to hold onto your waist.

choso was hesitant, his big hands slowly roam down your body, calluses fingertips brushing up against the curvature of your beloved physique.

he pulls away and there’s heart eyes forming in his pupils - not literally, but with his lust filled gaze, it just might have. a plump thumb pulls down your bottom lip, and he remains still inside of your sloppy cunt, plugging you full entirely.

with a sheepish expression, he grabs the back of your hand and kisses it. “s- so, um. what are we?”

he’s definitely in love. pussy drunk, but definitely in love.

[naomis-daydream]

her favorite place // paige bueckers

summary: paige goes live as she gets her hair done from her favourite person sat in her favourite place.

warnings: none!

a/n: not my best work but I wanna start writing for her and this is the first time in months i’ve flowed while writing so!

✧

the image looked suggestive, or at the very least, questionable to viewers.

as hundreds joined the huskie’s live, they couldn’t help but notice the comfortable position their favorite player had between a pair of parted thighs.

uconnfan what did i click awn…

user3 facing the wrong way tbh

user8 who is that behind her??!

she smirks slightly as her eyes dart over the flood of comments.

“where am i?” she reads, “my favorite place,” she says, scrunching her nose as she smiles.

she knows what she’s doing, you think from behind her, rolling your eyes at her antics.

as if she could hear your thoughts, she stops taunting her growing audience.

“y’all chillll, i’m just getting my hair done. my favorite spot, aka the hair chair, getting my braids. come on now,” she assures, turning the camera at an angle to show you, eyebrows furrowed as you focused on a braid.

she nudges you with her shoulder, nodding at the camera. “hey live,” you say gently, poking your head out from behind paige with a soft smile. in the bottom corner that the blonde was still visible, her lips curled into a small grin as she watched you speak.

“today we’re switching it up a little bit from her normal two braids. we’re doing three on each side pulled into a slick back.”

paige nodded along as she put herself back into frame. “yup,” she popped her lips, “she’s getting me right.”

a low “mm-hm,” left your lips before you spoke again. “yeah, i gotta treat her right after them cruise braids. poor girl was traumatized.”

she whipped her head around at your comment, truinng to look up at you. “hey, i thought we left that in the past, i got set up.”

you giggle as you take one hand to push her jaw forward. “stop moving. then your hair really is gonna be messed up.”

you hear the smack of her teeth as she refocuses on the live, shaking her head slightly.

as you continued, she spoke with viewers about the upcoming season, plans for summer holiday, and traveling, occasionally reading comments aloud to you.

“‘can y/n do my hair next?’ uhhh no, she’s booked. got her for the whole summer actually. right?” she pans the camera to you.

“sorry guys, p comes first,” you say with a feigned frown.

she turns the phone back, shrugging her shoulder. “i could get kayla for you if you want though, for sure.”

you apply oil to the parts in the braided section then smooth you hand along the middle section. “okay, im done with the braids. can you get the brush and gel so i can do the bun?”

“but i’m on live,” she replies, looking at the screen.

you stop, looking at the back of her head silently. really?

paige slowly turns around, meeting your incredulous expression.

“yes ma’am.”

“thank you,” you smile as she gets up, propping her phone up on the glass table in front of you both.

as she turns the corner to the bathroom you lean forward, reading some of the comments flooding in.

wbbluver period suh!! you tell her

huskie4l “yes ma’am” ohh it’s like that💀💀

ice.bradyy made blondie get up real quick

you laughed at a few, responding as you read. “yeah, because I don’t know who she thought she was talking to.”

said blonde walks back into the living area, gel and brush in hand “what’re you in here giggling about?”

“nothin’” you shake your head, leaning back to give her space back between your legs. “just chattin’ with the people.”

she sits down, folding her legs criss crossed as she passes you the products. “what are you guys saying about me in here, huh?” she asks as you push her head playfully.

“oh hush, we weren’t talking about you.”

she hums quietly as you begin brushing her hair back, smoothing over any fly aways or unarmed tangles before grabbing a scrunchie and tying her locks back. you pull her hair through twice before pulling it halfway through the third time and wrapping the excess hair around the bun.

you place your hands on her shoulders, sighing softly, “okay, you’re all done.”

her eyes light up as she sits up straight, “perfect! ayeee, lemme see.” she looks in the camera, licking her lips before they pull into a smile.

oh lord now she’s feeling herself.

“okayyy, my girl got me right! braids by y/n get at her,” she exclaims before correcting herself, “but like i said, i got first priority, you know this.”

you laugh at her softly, gathering the supplies to take em back to the bathroom before a hand stops you.

“wait you can’t leave without saying bye to the live,” she says, wrapping her free arm around your shoulder.

you smile, waving again, “bye liveee,” you blow a kiss, leading to paige blowing one of her own followed by a wink.

“talk to yall later, peace!”

✧

[juletheghoul]

unclean

a/n: Honestly, you can blame my period for this one. I took a huge liberty because usually women on their periods in this time weren't treated the way they should have been, also took an educated guess at forms of relief. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for losing her mind with me, thanks my love! 🩷Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus not being a little bitch about periods, creampie, blood & mess lets be real, boob worship, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.4k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

-

The wince came without your permission, your face twisting in discomfort as you poured his wine, pausing for a moment to steady yourself; thankfully without spilling a drop.

“Are you hurt, girl?” You unclench your eyes and find him staring at you with a frown, no doubt confused by your expression. 

“Apologies Dominus, it is nothing.” You bow your head but hiss nonetheless and he puts down the bread. 

“Answer me truthfully girl, what pains you?” His eyes are intent and for a moment you cannot tell if it is annoyance or worry that twists his features. Heat rushes to your face, men usually don’t take the news well when they are reminded of the troubles of the opposite sex. You fidget, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth while you gather your wits. 

“It is just, my blood will flow soon Dominus. Sometimes the pain precedes it.” You bow your head and stare at the floor by his feet, gearing up for the usual responses you’d get from the men you’ve served, anger, or disgust. He says nothing, but when you look up he nods once. “I will retreat to my chambers soon. I will send someone else to tend to you if it pleases you, Dominus.” 

“I require nothing further, you may tend to your needs.” He dismisses you gracefully, much more so than any other you’ve served and it’s as though a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders. 

The blood does not dull the pain. 

Hours after confessing to your Dominus, you can do nothing more than curl up in your bed, and suffer in silence. One of the older women had boiled some water for you to dip a flat stone, place it on your belly for relief and it had worked wonders for a time but both the water and the stone had gone cold ages ago. All that was left to do was grit your teeth and bear it. 

You cannot help but crave him even more, with the blood flowing, your lower back and breasts aching, and your insides twisting, the pleasure of his cock seemed like the miracle that could cure you. Men didn’t do that though, women all knew it was nothing more than what the female body did, but men–society deemed it unclean. And so you had to endure, without the relief of his body or his gift. Still, you couldn’t help but be grateful for him, he did not protest to the women in his service sequestering themselves until it passed. He did not ask questions, he did not balk at the talk of pain. 

The first day passed, and the second found you in more agony. The second was the worst for you, when the blood was the heaviest, and the discomfort grew nearly unbearable. 

The women brought you hot soups and wine warmed with spices, boiled water for the stone and clean rags for the mess. You thanked them, with tears in your eyes and they nodded and left you to your misery. You slept when you could, but when the night came, sleep had become a stranger, and all you could do was pray to all of the Gods to either take the pain, or take your life. 

Your door opened late into the night and you thought one of the women had brought more hot water but it was him, your Dominus, standing at the threshold to your modest chamber bathed in soft candlelight and shadow.

“Dominus-” You struggled, moving to stand too quickly and falling back to sit on your bed. “Apologies Dominus, what-” He held up his hands to forestall your speech. 

“Peace, girl, I am not here to ask anything of you.” He came in and closed the door, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I heard one of the women speaking about you, she said you were suffering a great deal.” 

“I am well, Dominus.” You could barely keep the grimace off your face.

“Do not lie to me, girl, I can see the agony.” He approached slowly, he’d already prepared for bed and wore a simple tunic. “I have heard it said that pleasure often eases the pain, but I will not force the issue if you do not desire it.” You stared up at him, confusion creeping into your pain-addled mind. He stood, staring at you, for all intents and purposes a gift from the Gods in himself. “Would you like me to help you?” 

“I– but you are not… the blood does not bother you, Dominus? I am unclean–” He raised his arms once more, a frown arranged on his features. 

“Blood has never bothered me, girl.” You droop with relief, tears springing to your eyes and an altogether different ache building between your legs. “You need it don’t you, you need me to take the pain away, hm?” He speaks softly again and all you can do is nod, pitifully. He stands before you, taking in the unruly state of you and for a moment you think you can almost see a soft affection on his face. His thumb swipes against the plump of your lower lip softly, “How do you desire it? Soft? With kisses and gentle touches?” he holds your chin between his pinched fingers, tilting your face up to gaze into his dark eyes, “Or do you desire it more forceful? How do you need me to fuck you?” 

Tears well, and you’re not sure if it’s the softness in his voice or the relief so clearly visible on the horizon, but you swallow around the lump of gratitude in your throat. “I want it all, Dominus,” you hold onto his forearm, afraid that if you don’t make contact with him, he might evaporate like dew in the morning. “I want kisses, and gentle touches but I want force as well, I need your gift to ease the pain.” 

“And you shall have it, my brave girl.” He reaches down, carefully pulling your tunic up and off and your nipples harden almost painfully. He slips his hand down, palming your breast softly, “Do they hurt too much for my attention?” soft as a breeze, his thumb strums at the sensitive tip of your breast and you bite your lip. 

“They ache, but I do not wish for you to stop.” You bring his other hand to your other breast, sighing at the tenderness in his touch. 

“I will be mindful.” He pulls away for a moment to undress and the sight of his cock standing at full mast is enough to make you whimper. “Patience, girl. You will have it soon enough, as deep as I can get.” You nod, but all at once you realize where you are. 

“You wish to have me here? My bed is not as lush as yours-” He sees slight embarrassment on your face and he waves it away. 

“This is my house, girl, I will have you where I please.”

You move back with a wince and he follows, discarding the soiled rag tucked between your legs without so much as a flinch and whatever feelings of devotion, of loyalty or possibly obsession you have for him grow to greater and greater strength. He settles between your spread thighs and just the warm heft of him is soothing, the heat of his skin on your belly, the heavy press of his cock on your sex like a balm. 

Wordlessly he presses his lips to yours, soft, and then not so soft and his tongue explores your mouth, he tastes of wine and dark ripe fruit and you cannot help but wrap your arms around his neck, thread your fingers through his thick waves and whimper. His lips travel, mapping out their course across your skin, down the column of your neck, the base of your throat until he takes your breast in gentle hand and licks at the peak and the moan escapes your lips without your leave. He moves to the other and showers it with the same affection, both breasts shiny with his spit and your cunt melts for him like frost in the face of the sun. You can feel the way he coats himself in your want, his cock slipping between the lips of your sex. He continues to worship your breasts, licking soft like a kitten, and then sucking the tip into his mouth until you cannot take it anymore. 

“Please Dominus,” Your voice breaks when he lets go of your nipple with a pop, enjoying the way you writhe underneath him. “I need it, I need your cock.” He kisses at your breast again before slipping his hand down, and finally slipping into the wet clutch of your cunt. “Gods above, yes, yes yes, please Dominus-” You’re breathless, the feel of him is good enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull. 

“Yes, I know girl, I’m right here.” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust and the moan you let out is obscene. “This little cunt is going to behave for me, isn’t it?” His lips barely touch yours, speaking the words into your mouth; his words, his rhythm making you drip onto the fabric below. The sounds between your legs are vulgar, wet and far more appealing than any music in the world, but it is not enough. You let out a whine, pitiful and painful and he frowns. “Is it not enough?” There is no anger, only the quest for truth in his tone and you shake your head, heartbroken and shaking with need. He pulls away, and you let out a cry of anguish and clutch to him, if he left you like this you don’t think you’d survive. “Peace, girl. We will change our positioning so I can give it to you how you need it.” 

When he pulls away, your eyes widen in shock and horror. Your blood has smeared all over him, his cock, his groin, spreading up almost to his belly, it collects at the mouth of your cunt and when you look down it is all over your inner thighs, the scene looking more like a battle than a bedding. He shakes his head, raising a hand to stop the apology before it is given. 

“This does not frighten me, girl. This is not the first time I have been covered in the blood of another, and it will not be the last. Turn around, I would have you on your hands and knees.” You nod, and with a wince you rush to comply, presenting your backside to him and within a moment he has pulled your hips back to meet his, his cock entering you with no resistance and from this angle he knocks the wind out of you. “There it is, this is the answer, yes?” He thrusts again forcefully and a sound you’ve never heard comes out of your mouth, a dark, wanton noise and it only proves him right. 

“Yes Dominus, please, like this–” you don’t finish your sentence because he pulls back and punches forward again with enough force to rock your bed. Your head drops, your back arching and he sets a brutal pace. Tears slip out from the corners of your eyes, trapped between where your face presses against the back of your forearms and you think for a moment that nothing has ever felt better. 

He grunts, and for a handful of minutes the only sounds are your combined heavy breathing, the wet squelch between your legs, and the rhythmic rocking of your bed. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips hard enough to bruise but it matters not, the pleasure is too great, the relief of his cock is a sign that the Gods are real and that they have sent him to you. 

You reach underneath, gasping at the feel of your cunt spread wide to take him and at just how wet you are. The engorged little pearl of your pleasure begs for attention, and you cannot deny it. With a handful of swirls you seize up, screaming through your climax and he groans as the fist of your cunt squeezes him tight, making him slow slightly but he doesn’t stop. Your knees give out for a moment but he doesn’t let you falter. 

“I am not finished with you yet, this little cunt will take what I give her.” His grip tightens and he lifts you back up into position. Fucking you through your flutters, “You will give me another, girl, you will squeeze my cock again, only then will I give you my gift.” He’s breathless, maneuvering his hand around to reach between your legs while he drapes himself against your back. His fingers manipulate you rougher than you did, forcing another climax out of you while his hips drive his cock deep enough to kiss your womb. 

The second climax is more intense and lasts longer and the force of it milks him dry. You feel him empty himself with a punched-out groan, collapsing onto you once his cock twitches for the last time. 

Everything is silent, and for a moment, you think you might have gone onto the afterlife but then he shifts and you take a deep, steadying breath. The relaxation is so great you are afraid to move, afraid that any engagement of your muscles might result in the pain returning and so you stay still as he pulls out. You will clean once he is gone but he shocks you again when you feel a cool cloth on the skin of your backside. 

“Dominus, I can–” You turn your head to him slowly but he shakes his head. The tenderness in his hands not reaching his face. 

“Silence, girl.” He says nothing else, but dips the cloth into the basin of water again and rings it out, cleansing the mess between your legs silently. “I expect you to let me know the next time you are in pain.” Once he is satisfied with his task, he dips the cloth again, and uses it on himself and there is something about seeing him do this that is unnatural, you cannot help but stare. He is quick; utilitarian. 

He drops the used cloth back into the basin, grabs his tunic and slips out of your room without so much as a glance but it matters not, you are asleep before he shuts the door.

-

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[k8martins]

never lose me ༄

summary: kate makes u do all the work after a hard game :p

warnings: 18+, oral (k receiving), strap, riding, sub!kate

a/n: freakyyyy!

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

the way kate kissed you in the doorway of her iowa apartment was your indicator. she played her ass off during the game and still managed to fall short, taking the fourth loss of the season. when kate had a tough game, you knew things back home could go either way. this time, she didn’t take charge, and instead melted into your touch.

you closed the door behind you and immediately latched your hands back onto your girlfriend’s waist. your lips reconnected, and kate whimpered into the kiss.

“please… i just wanna…” she began, breathless.

“i know, i know,” you cooed against her lips. you lead her towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss.

kate immediately sat herself down on the bed, her legs closed tightly together in desperation. you wasted no time lifting her compression shirt off her defined body as her blue eyes remained fixed on you. she was left in her bra as you knelt to slide her pants off. before removing her pants, you placed a drawn out kiss onto her lips from your knees.

your lips flowed together and bit down on her bottom lip softly as you brought kate’s knees apart. you took the space between her legs to move closer in, unhooking her bra. she gently clawed at your hair, urgently needing something more.

discarding her bra across the room you said lowly, “lay your back down, baby.”

kate complied and suppressed a buck of her hips.

“this is all i could think about the entire game,” kate’s needy voice breathed.

you smirked at her confession as you finally hooked your fingers below her undies and slid them off. kate was right; they were practically soaked with the mess she made waiting for this moment. kate squirmed from your touch.

“i can see that,” you remarked while letting her undies fall somewhere on the floor.

kate brought her hands up to her face in embarrassment, blushing even more than she already was. you couldn’t believe this was the same girl who topped you almost every time.

you slightly rose from your kneel putting one knee on the bed to reach kate, taking her hands off her face.

“let me see you, princess,” you said as you took both her wrists with one hand, pinning them above her head. kate was flustered underneath you and tried pushing her hips up against yours. using your other hand, you brought it down to her leaking pussy and began rubbing circles around her swollen bud.

kate immediately threw her head back with a strained moan. it was music to your ears as you added more pressure; she tried to stay at a reasonable volume, but her whines were becoming uncontrollable. in all honesty, neither of you really cared about keeping it quiet.

with her neck still being available to you, you sucked light hickeys as her eyebrows were furrowed together. her breath was shaky as she tried not to scream.

“all mine, kate, you’re all mine,” you muttered against her neck, and entered a single finger into her. she let out a high pitched moan and you took it as your moment to pick up the pace. kate brought her head down, instantly pushing her lips onto yours. she huffed into the kiss before her mouth hung open as you added a second finger. as she moaned your name into your mouth, you got back onto your knees.

without missing a beat, you connected your lips to her clit. she arched her back in deep pleasure and her hands slowly found your head again.

“just like that,” she praised in her raspy voice. her toned stomach tensed at the sensation of your tongue.

her comment encouraged you further and you licked up and down her wetness while continuing to pump your fingers in and out. kate cried your name once more, and you knew she was close.

“doing so good baby,” you said against her cunt. her hands grasped your hair at your comment, unable to even reply with words. you kept your hands at each side of her hips, trying to keep the squirming minimal. it was then you felt kate slightly pushing your head into her heat.

“please, please, please,” she whispered over and over. and just like that, she released. her back arched even higher than before and her hips bucked into your face. she let out a long shaky moan before collapsing back down. you slowly parted from her spent pussy, looking up at your girlfriend.

she looked gorgeous laying there with her chest steadily rising and falling, her hair messy and sprawled all over the sheets. despite her fucked out look, she sat back up to kiss you. there was no doubt she could taste herself from your lips.

promptly parting from the kiss, she looked at you with a glimmer in her eye.

“you feeling ok?”

“mhm,” she nodded.

“good,” and you placed a kiss on her forehead, but she was seeming to look somewhere else.

following her gaze, she was hinting towards the dresser you both shared. you instantly knew was she was implying.

“since you wanna do all the work tonight…” she trailed off, biting her lip with a smile.

a part of you was surprised she wanted to keep going, but also glad, as you had made your own mess while pleasing her. you walked towards the dresser, grabbing the strap.

one of your favorite views was kate lying underneath you as you prepared to take her strap. your knees were propped at either side of her hips, her hands resting on your hips. she looked up at you her eyes nearly half lidded from being so horny.

you lined up the lip with your entrance and slowly lowered yourself onto kate’s strap. each inch filled you completely, biting your lip while you took all of it in.

“you got it?” kate mumbled, her eyes pretty much fixed on filling you up.

“y-yeah,” you moaned, reaching the base of the plastic length. you rested for a moment, letting yourself adjust.

kate moved her hands up to your tits, covering them with her big hands. the sensation encouraged you to start moving, slowly bringing your hips up and coming back down.

“you’re so fuckin’ sexy like this,” kate said, gently squeezing your nipples. it was almost as though kate felt like the strap was an extension of her own body, seeming to take true pleasure from seeing you on top of her.

you whimpered at the shared feeling of her hands all over your body and the strap hitting your g spot every time. picking up the pace, you rolled your hips up and down, maintaining eye contact with kate. you were embarrassingly close to cumming, as you were already so sensitive after eating kate out.

“kate i can’t…” and you tried to slow down.

“yes you can babe,” kate told you. she noticed your shaking legs and decided to fuck into you herself. lifting her hips, her thrusts were steady and deep. you moaned feverishly as your girlfriend finished the job for you. tears pricked at the edges of your eyes while she gripped your waist as she fucked into you faster.

“you’re taking me so good, hm?” she slightly teased.

the way the it felt fucking in and out of you continued to build up the knot in your stomach. a small tear escaped your eye as you threw your head back, cumming around kate’s strap. your body shuddered as the orgasm traveled, mindlessly moaning kate’s name over and over. she rode you out of your high with a last few weak thrusts before removing it from your aching pussy.

“sorry i couldn’t do all the work,” you joked with a tired smile.

kate sat up, ignoring the soreness in her stomach, and kissed you softly.

“you did such a good job.”

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

[jacesbeloved]

for the kingdom: part v

summary: being the youngest daughter of alicent, you hadn’t known what it was like to feel restraint until you had been betrothed to the eldest son of queen rhaenyra for a pact. for who? for the kingdom.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content, cunnilingus, dirty thoughts in a church, porn with (little) plot, dirty talk, slightly public sex, overstimulation | if you liked this, pls do leave a heart or comment, it’d be greatly appreciated ^w^

part: I, II, III, IV, V

ftk taglist: @kentarosbaby @lady-ashfade @simrah1012 @mfrnchsk @sexualityisajoke @elsyyie @instabul l @ephemeralninon @chrisevansgirlfriendsposts @mainstreambitchlife @alexandra-001 @writer-lee5 @nightly-polaris @m4nd0l0r @roroswitherose @how2besalty @eds-gryff f @icantpickausername @solacestyles @blue1006 @highexpectationsgurl @doe-inluv @kitkat-writes-stuff @alex4040 @cl-0-vr @frogoerson @neo-weareone @theamuz @illainebedeakin @littletargaryens-blog @ietss @ttae-yong @daevinvan333

Alyrie Florent.

Alerie Hightower.

Viserys Targaryen.

"Mother," Alicent jumps at the sudden call. Her eyebrows confusedly joining together as she stares at you, rugged and breathless.

Clearly, you had not remembered of your commitment to come with your mother to the Sept at early morrow.

She stares at you from top to bottom before you invite yourself to the place beside her, kneeling and clasping your hands together as she had always told you to do once you arrive at the Sept.

"My goodness, daughter, it is only early morrow... why do you look like that?"

You run a hand through your hair, your chest heaving up and down as you close your eyes. "Look like what?" You ask although you could not really care for an answer.

"Nothing. Pray for your father." Thank the gods you thought.

The run from the inn inside the Streets of Silk was far from the Sept. Not to mention, the hundreds of steps that you had to walk up both in the Red Keep to get dressed and to the Sept itself.

As you finally feel the silence around you, visions of last night cannot be stopped as it runs through your mind again.

"I expected more from you, princess," the teasing tone of Jacaerys' voice hits just the right buttons. His hips hitting your pelvis in slow, hard strokes that has you seeing stars by the minute. The moment his cock entered your cunt, you knew it was over for you.

"Just fuck me, Jace," you say in between moans. Your hands going up your head and into your hair as you desperately pull at it. You hear a deep chuckle come from him as his hands hook your legs around his waist, snaking his arm across your chest and to the back of your neck before his pace quickens.

You scream his name, the sound entering his ears like one of the greatest songs ever sung by poets. That pushes him further. His lips latching onto one of your perked nipples before his warm tongue lovingly laps circles around it. You put one hand on his head, messing up his hair as your sanity decreases by the⎯

"Daughter, did you hear what I said?" The images in your head disappear and you are faced with a furious look from Alicent. Sighing discreetly, you look back at her, giving back the same look. "I didn't catch you clearly."

She shakes her head disapprovingly, "Your uncle, Uncle Gwayne, might return. However, I do not know when exactly he'll come back."

For such a meaningless sentence, you hum and simply throw her a question as you exhale loudly. Feeling your body slowly heat up again. "Really? Why is he bothering to come back?"

Once you heard your mother's continuous flow of words in answer to your question, you peacefully close your eyes again. Hoping to all of the gods that it would keep your mother at bay. You gulp nothing but saliva down your dry throat, feeling all of the tingles and touches you felt last night.

"That's it... Keep your eyes on me, princess. You're doing so good," Jace's eyes lazily look up at you, a grin etched on his lips as you bounce up and down his length. This new position hitting places you never thought one could reach.

Your thighs were burning. You feel the pain in your hips going stronger but the pleasure overpowers it by a league. You wished the two of you could have stayed like earlier where he was the only one moving but after he makes you release in that position, he kisses you messily then pulls you off of the cushion.

His big hands hold the sides of your hips, helping you bounce, even thrusting up on his own every now and then to catch you off-guard. Your eyes close for your own sake as you feel another release close by. Jace watches you with amusement in his eyes as your hips begin grinding on his length, no longer bouncing like you used to, chasing after your release.

So close. Your eyes close shut even firmer. You can taste it⎯

A hand breaks your thoughts again. On the brink of sanity now as the hand belonged to your sister, Helaena, who shows you a caterpillar that she sets on the concrete ground before kneeling beside you.

Gods, you are cruel. You say in your mind. Letting your face do the talking while Helaena opens up about her insects.

"It looks nice." Alicent smiles. You have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes as both your mother and your sister converse with each other while you kneel there in the middle. When you close your eyes, Alicent speaks again. "You two must bear the Hightower name."

What is this woman talking about? The thoughts in your head are all over the place. Helaena being too pre-occupied in watching her caterpillar to even bother reply to your mother.

"You married me off to a Targaryen, remember?" You say in a low voice. Clasping your hands together.

Alicent puts a hand on your shoulder and bicep, "It was for the better. Besides, it would have been Jacaerys, Queen Rhaenyra's eldest, or Lucerys. Would've you rather rule over the seas than the seven kingdoms?"

"I agree with you wholeheartedly, mother, now please let me pray in peace."

You peek at her by opening just a small portion of your eye, your mother shaking her head once more before she closes her own eyes. Pressing her hand to her forehead as she too, probably, prayed.

Jace's arms instinctively pull you closer. Wrapping his arm around your waist as he pounded inside of you from over edge of the bed. He's only came once while you couldn't even count how many times your legs shook at his expense.

"How does that feel?" Jace asks in your ear, feeling his hand snake through your stomach and down the apex of your thighs where his fingers skillfully rub against your cunt. The contact making you dive further into the mattress if not for the his arm holding you up by your waist. "Does it feel good? Are you pleased, princess?"

No words leave your mouth, only moans and whimpers as his thrusts got deeper. Each thrust into your delicious cunt making him feel delirious. After delaying his own release numerous times, his release was approaching him now just like a wave.

"Don't stop, Jace, fuck," you grit, gripping the sheets as another orgasm awaits.

Continuous groans and grunts leave his mouth. The veins in his neck just as angry as the ones that line his cock. His hands rush to pull your upper body up, placing his hand flat against your neck as your back is now flush against his chest. His other hand stimulating your clit. Every part of your body was on fire and he knows it.

His hand around your neck tightens ever so slightly and you feel your vision turn white. Everything becoming too much. "I'm close. Fuck, I'm coming again, Jace," you cry out.

"It's okay, princess," he grunts, feeling his own release come about as your legs shake, cunt tightening around his cock with a scream escaping your lips. His lips ghosting all across your ear and the side of your neck as rubs soothing circles on your belly. "I got you."

"Y/N, are you okay?" The question from Helaena makes you jolt. Sweat beading on your forehead as you rush to stand up. Both Alicent and Helaena looking at you with great concern. Your face was pale and your clothes had numerous wet spots because of the sweat.

You laugh uncomfortably, "I am. Are we going now?"

"You're the only one we're waiting on." Alicent tells you with a nod, turning around and walking away.

Brushing the feeling of last night off, you hurriedly follow your mother and sister out of the Sept and into a carriage back to the Red Keep.

Before the council meeting later in the day, you have a good amount of time to rest in your own shared chambers with your husband.

He hasn't arrived yet so you use the time to take back some strength after tiring yourself out last night. It may be the low-end cushion that you laid yourself on last night but your bed now has never been comfier. You were tossing and turning all around it while hugging your pillows.

Your handmaidens had their own affairs to deal with, thankfully, it meant no random hair braiding and no anything that would disrupt your peace in your haven.

That is if your brother only bothered to take the locked door as an answer.

"Does my door being locked mean nothing?" You ask at Aemond, having to walk back to your bed after opening your door for him. His return meant the others have just came back as well, it was only a matter of time now before Jace comes to both of your rooms and your peace is disrupted.

Aemond takes a seat near the fireplace. "You sneaked out last night, didn't you?"

Your brother knowing wasn't too surprising for you. He knew of all things, even things he shouldn't know in the first place. So when he asks, you answer with honesty.

"Are you telling Mother?"

Your brother hums, shrugging subtly as he inspects the things you had on the table. Random stacks of books and golden chalices filled with water. Jewelries of various design scattered all over.

"Alicent scolding you does give me some pleasure," Aemond says but you know he's just being an asshole. "It does not give me any use though."

You sigh. Dramatically falling on the soft cushion of your bed as you speak again. "Then tell me what I have done to warrant this astonishing visit from you, Aemond."

A thought hits and you jolt, "You're betrothed?" The scowl on his face says otherwise. "Found a girl?" "Aegon's dead?" You exclaim in a theatrical manner.

Aemond snickers, "Have you seen Otto?" The sudden question goes past your mind as you ask him about the mission last night.

"It was just me and Cole working. Our brother and Jace were as useful as a dragon without wings," Aemond shakes his head, standing up from his chair and exploring the room. The constant walking around bugged your senses.

You glare at your brother's remark. "Honestly, brother, shouldn't you be reporting to the Queen about what happened to the mission?"

"Shouldn't you be welcoming your husband with open arms outside?" Aemond retorts before he holds up a finger, "Oh, apologies, you already welcomed him with open legs last night."

"You should visit a brothel, brother. Or talk to Cole if you are truly irritated with the world," you throw him over an old mirror compact that you had on your nightstand, your brother catching it perfectly before settling it down on a random surface.

Your door opens and just in time, Jace enters. He looks surprised seeing Aemond first thing inside of your room.

Gazing at him, he had his usual clothes back on and not the cream-colored shirts and pants. His hair was in a different way disheveled, there were some strands that look naturally curled compared to how his hair used to look like the first night when you two married.

Aemond glances at him before he turns to you. With a nod, he leaves your room in silence.

"What's your brother doing here?" Jace asks as the door closes. Opening his closet and placing his clothes inside.

"I don't know either," you shrug indifferently. Lying back down on your bed as you watch him move around. The curls on his head bringing back a certain person that you met only once or twice before.

Jace notices you staring at his hair and so he speaks, "It is better not to comment unless you want to be deemed treasonous, my dear wife." The grin on your lips telling him everything he needs to know about what was in your head.

A meeting was called into the council room. Something about an update regarding the recent mission that finished last night⎯or so you thought.

"Where were you?" Your curious eyes go over Otto's figure. He definitely looks surprised when you stop him before he enters the council room. Your grandfather's presence giving you an unsettling feeling as he comes from one of the farther connecting hallways within the keep.

He raises an eyebrow at you, "If it pleases you, I came from Maegor's Holdfast." The way he says it has a condescending tone that you would rather not point out.

You nod quietly, going inside the small council that was now full of people.

Rhaenyra's way of ruling always boggled you. She is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and yet her small council is crowded. Not only are the seven mandatory positions already here but, Rhaenyra's children were there, Baela and Rhaena Targaryen were there, you and Aemond were even there despite not having any official position in it.

"I want everyone to feel included," as Rhaenyra said on the week that she was able to compose her own small council.

As you walk through the room, your eyes immediately lock with Jace's. It was clear that he had just finished bathing, as evidenced by the wetness of his hair, curls bouncier and more evident than before. It would be a crime for you to say it was not refreshing seeing a new hairstyle on him.

"Dearest wife," Jace nods at you with a small smile.

Contrary to his greeting, you sneer lowly, "Husband."

You take a stone ball from the middle, occupying the vacant seat beside your husband as the council chamber quiets down. The queen nodding at her other council members before she starts.

The meeting at the council went smoothly. Majority of Rhaenyra's council members did their job exceptionally well. Food was not scarce, problems were given solutions, and houses were given adequate attention in terms of their worries.

Whilst the Queen went on about the operations within the city, an occasional share of ideas from you and your mother, you could feel your husband's stare boring into you every time you look away to stare at Her Grace.

He figured that was not enough. His fingers brushing past your hand like a sin. So discreet, so subtle underneath the table as if you two did not consummate your marriage the night before.

You feel his hand creeping on yours again, this time you feel the warmth of it stay a little long before he withdraws it fast. "Jace? Aemond? How did the task go?"

Jace clears his throat, gesturing at Aemond who seemed to already have an answer to the Queen's question.

Aemond starts, "The task cannot be said as a success, your grace. It is clear from last night that more men must be employed in the field, not just Prince Jacaerys...nor Prince Aegon," he raises an eyebrow at your direction. Giving him back the same look before he clicks his tongue and turns back to Rhaenyra.

"I believe the perpetrator has someone inside of the Red Keep, as well as outside, where they hide their other men. They cannot hide this long if not for said allies." Aemond pulls off of the stone table and rests on the chair.

"What do you propose we do?"

This time, it's Aemond that gestures at Jace. "We need to set out more guards on patrol. Not just guards wearing their uniform but guards that are civilians. If these perpetrators do have men inside of King's Landing, we can only know if we live within King's Landing and see its every day operations without raising any suspicions."

People around the table nod, some even proposing additional ideas to it but Rhaenyra seemed to be well pleased with what her son and your brother suggested earlier.

"Your Grace, I fear this has not reached you yet but the mercenary that Prince Jacaerys and my granddaughter bought here is allegedly from the North."

Your head turns, "He's not."

All of the attention zones on you at the sudden interjection. "The man is from Essos. He has burns on his wrist to his arm. There's a group of people within Essos that have those."

"And how would you know that? You have not travelled to Essos nor have you seen this prisoner face-to-face," Otto says with another rather condescending tone. It was clear from the look on his face that he was undermining the information you're giving.

Your jaw clenches. Scoffing in disbelief at your grandfather's statement. "I would know that because I was the one attacked, as you should have known," you put your elbow on the table. "You do know that, right? Jacaerys was not the only one attacked—Hells, it was me that was attacked not him. I killed him."

"That is not something to be proud of," Alicent whispers from beside you.

"Let her be," says Aemond with a bored tone.

Otto does not say any more as an uncomfortable silence settles around the small council. Rhaenyra, sensing this unsettling atmosphere, clarifies the situation before her orders are officially given out.

Jace glances at you as a check up after the cross between you and your grandfather. He was nibbling on his lips as you two lock eyes once more.

"Am I the one speaking?" You question him rhetorically, rolling your eyes at him as you lean on your chair and listen to the politics between them one more.

The thought that you would soon be in a higher place than you are now—clearly not in Rhaenyra's place as the ruler of the iron throne—but still in a high position as the queen consort, having to listen through all of this talk and plans and politics, then plan treaties and feasts together with the other houses, it suffocated you.

Your husband knows that too but, he says no more.

Years of your life was spent within the four wall of your own room. Now, you stand outside of it as numerous servants usher in and out of it while holding different furniture.

You did not want to dwell on the thought of your own space being changed now that your mother's going to occupy your previous room before the marriage but, it stood right across the door from the library—a reason on why you loved your room as well—you cannot just ignore it.

With a deep sigh, you turn around, going inside of the library only to find it empty.

The gods may have hated you enough to take you away from the room you call home, but they do have some conscience to let you have the library all on your own.

Studying was never your forte, reading was. Folklores, history, stories of the maesters, you loved reading about them all.

"I figured you would be here," a voice speaks from the reading area. You were in between the bookshelves, looking for another book to read along with the five that you already have stacked on your hand. "No one loves the library as you do."

"I'm occupied, fortunately, you can go back to our chambers, my beloved husband," you huff, pulling out another book from the shelves before you head out to the open area for reading only to see Jace holding a stack of books himself.

You fake a gasp as you point at him, "I didn't know you can read."

He ignores your attempt to ridicule him and instead places his stacks of books beside yours. You raise an eyebrow at him and he already feels another joke coming up. "I knew you couldn't read! Do you want me to read them then summarize 'em for you, my dear husband?"

"I had this delivered from the Citadel's Library. I figured my beloved wife could use more books to read to...broaden her horizons." Jace crosses his arms, hip leaning on your table.

"I din't take bribery, Jace. What do you need?"

The prince's forehead creases in disbelief, "Are we not allowed to give gifts now?"

"You're awfully suspicious," you reply back fast, standing up from your seat and going back to the stacks of bookshelves.

Jace doesn't reply, instead, he watches you look for books again. He swears he could feel his life span decreasing each time you act like that—like how? He doesn't know as well. The poor man massages his temples as he grabs the book at the uppermost stack from those he bought before walking over to you.

"Your servants have told me that you have almost finished all of the books in the library so I sent a raven to ask for more books. You are free to read them as they are yours and I will make sure the books in our chambers are sorted out as well, if that's okay."

You tap your fingers over the spines of the books, Jace slipping the one he held in his hands at the end so you go past it as well.

"And why would you do all that, husband?" You ask, staring into his eyes as you stand in front of him.

Jace keeps his cool, clasping his hands together, "You said it yourself. I am your husband. It is my duty to keep you entertained."

"Oh but there's a lot of different ways to keep me entertained," you say with a sly smile, the rising ends of your lips making his breath hitch. His mouth falls open but no words leave it, his eyes, however, darken.

The prince replies back, "I'm sure I know a way or two to keep you entertained."

You grin, thinking he's not getting the signal and so you run a hand through his curly hair. "That hair suits you... but I think I know how your hair could look better."

"And how's that?"

"In between my thighs."

Jace scoffs, looking through the cracks behind the bookshelves go check if anyone sneaked in. When he sees no one, he does the first contact as he backs you slowly into the other side of the wall.

The two of you no farther than an inch away from each other as he places his hands on your sides with much care. Pressing his lips on yours before you feel the sides of your dress be bunched up by him.

You willfully open your mouth to him, letting him explore it with his tongue as you did his. Sucking on the wet muscle while you tangle your arms around his neck like a second nature. You could feel his lips stretching into a smile when he starts to pull away.

The dashing smile on his lips seemed to have put you under a spell as you nod eagerly when he nods first. Jace keeping his eyes on yours as he went on his knees in a hurry. He bunches up your skirt, your urgent hands grabbing a hold of said skirt so his hands would be free to—

"Jace!" You hiss, getting caught off-guard when he pushes himself in between your legs. Gripping your thighs tightly as you start to feel his hot breath right where you need him the most. Praise all of the gods for letting you wear a kirtle because it made everything all the more easier. Your legs nearly give out when you feel him lick a stripe up your slit. Mouth falling open in pure ecstasy. It's only been a day since he last touched you but it felt like a year. His mouth laps at you like a starved man. Nose poking at your bud which made everything much more pleasureful. Your hands naturally find solace in his hair, pulling and tugging on it until groans vibrate through your core. He nips at your cunt, the contact of his teeth to the sensitive bud making you yelp.  It doesn't take long for him to have you screaming quivering in his grasp. His name spilling out of your mouth like a prayer. You tasted so good, the prince feeling addicted to your taste as he can't even stop himself from fucking his tongue in and out of your hole.  "Seven hells, it feels so fucking good, Jacaerys," you mewl, shamelessly grinding your hips on his mouth. His curls scattered all over your hands as you slowly feel that release coming up.  He abruptly inserts two fingers inside as he pulls away, chin glistening with your release. You nearly come at the erotic look on his face. His lips crashes with yours again, silencing your moans while you taste yourself on his tongue. His fingers thrusting in and out of you in a quick motion.  "I'll make you feel so much better later, I just need to fuck you now," his voice is strained. Desperately untying his trousers. You were so caught up in your own pleasure that you didn't notice his shaft poking against his trousers so when he finally undoes them, you pull it down in one swift motion. The sight of his erect cock making your mouth water. Jace puts one of your legs up to his hips, whispering, "Jump," as you do so enthusiastically. Your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as both of your legs hook around his waist. You pull him into another hungry kiss, Jace navigating the two of you until he finds a counter. He pushes everything off of it and places you gently on it, the sounds of books and metal hardware falling onto the carpeted floor. He didn't care, nor did you.  "I need it so bad, Jace," you whimper, pulling away to look down your middle. The sight of your husband holding his cock as he runs it up and down your slit making you roll your eyes way back as your head falls back. You were biting your lips to try and stop more of your sounds from coming out.  He thrusts in one swift motion, the blunt head of his cock hitting the sweet spot of yours that he seems to have memorized already. The two of you moaning loudly in unison.  Jace wastes no time in fucking you. His pelvis snapping aggressively into yours as your legs desperately try to pull him closer. "I'm so close, Y/N," he grunts, putting more force into his thrusts as he chases after his own orgasm.  Your cunt clenches greedily on his cock. The sensation making Jace bite his lips to stop himself from spilling before you do. He drops a hand to your clit, instantly getting a reaction from you. Your back arching off of the table as you scream about the pleasure. One, two⎯a few more strokes to your spot and you almost⎯ "Can I have a word with my sister once you two are done?" You thought it was only your mind making up scenarios but it wasn't. Another knock sounding, "Oh, and keep it down. Halaena is trying to put Jaehaerys to sleep." 

[ese1anime]

(Sigh)here we go,my first Au of TADC heheh yaaayyy hope yall like what I got so far of it

If you like BATIM(Bendy And The Ink Machine) then you’ll like what I’m creating for this Au…

Behold!!

Meet the Gang:

Emotion of the others:

🩶:the person

💖:crush

💚:friend/bestie

🧡:normal around

❤️:hate

(For this is the best thing I can come up with on their heights I did my best to keep the height and putting them in a row)

>Lore of the story<><>

For some of us we know that game of bendy and the ink machine has become popular for gamers that have played it or those that seen it along with knowing how virtual reality can bring a whole new side of what’s real but isn’t with headsets.Well what if they both were combined together into a whole new adventure for others to see and experience what it’s like to actually play in a horror game between BATIM and TADC all together called ✨The Amazing

Digital Ink Machine✨

The Digital Studio in a computer that is filmed to bring others that Virtual Reality life that is part of a bendy and the ink machine vibes,where lots of ink flows from the top to bottom and covered in history that is yet to behold of the ink machine.But like most people that get stuck in a virtual world,it takes your soul to another place and into a different body,making it your mission to complete it or be stuck for all eternity (just like jumanji but different 😁).For your soul can contain lots of digital hallucinations when your stuck in a studio for who knows how long and with the ink flowing,places that can be unlocked,and not knowing who you are by then for it makes a person forget their own existence or the life they thought they knew before or what they will become then………

<><><><><><><><><><><>

{}{}The Storyline{}{}{}{

Pomni was put into the system to discover what has happened to those that went missing in the real world and it’s up to her to find the pieces to this adventure she will be taking by Caine 🖤💛🖤

With each path she takes ,she must find each and one of the pieces to fix this mess that has caused a lot of damage to the system and the people that got stuck in the world as well while facing the one that has caused so many to be stuck in this digital world Ink Demon that trapped other players into this place (those that have gone missing and never returned to the real world or to their real bodies)

for Caine[AI] a companion member,comes along to give pomni some company or to help her as he was programmed to do 🖤💛🖤along with the friends that pomni will get to meet as well

Stuff that will be included in this Au:

Studio underground:

For it will bring out circus vibes to it but also make it look like a old cartoon vibe (like bendy and his friends look like)

NPC:

For they are part of the ink and tend to make it a game when facing them or come across their path throughout the quest

ink-Abstractiors:

They are like the abstraction but as giant ink monsters that leave trails of ink when they are found roaming around the area

(For this is what I got so far of the what will be added on here only because I’m working on other stuff more more often,this will be my side project of The Amazing Digital Ink Machine 💛🖤)

<><><><><><><><><><><>

{Boundaries/QnA}

•”Is this a crossover of TADC and BATIM”

Yes it’s kinda like a crossover between the horror game(BATIM) and the show(TADC)

•”Can I draw these characters?”

Sure thing! Love seeing other peoples amazing art As long as you tag me about it cause I don’t tolerate others trying to steal art idea from anyone

•”Can I make an Oc\Fanart of this Au?”

Yes,I would love to see what other bendy vibes for Tadc you come up with for this Au heh

•”Can I write a fic about this Au”

If you got any other ideas of this Au,I would love to see what others like to create of it hehe that would be great ✨

•”Is NSFW allowed?”

Yeeeeaaaahhhhhh Nnnnooooooo thanks but noooo sorrry 😅

•”Is shipping allowed?”

Of course!but most of the ships will be showtime and Bunnydoll more often

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

(If you have any questions let me know just pls be nice cause I don’t tolerate rude behavior on here and I want to make sure others know that as well)

[illusionsdelusions101]

MAKEUP~Lando Norris

More uploads, more F1!!!

!!!NOT PROOFREAD!!!

Type~Fluff

Lando Norris x fem!reader

You always did your makeup in front of Lando. Even once you started dating and he would spend the night, you'd go to bed all natural and wake up, have breakfast, do skincare, blah, blah and do your makeup. Lando always watched closely, watching you do full glam on nights where you went out on the town and clean girl makeup when you went to go visit his family. He always admired your work. The way you sculpted your eyebrows, the way you'd always put three small dots of liquid blush on your cheekbone and the eyelash curler which he called a "eye tourture device." One day, you were being unproductive, everything was cleaned by you and Lando around and inside the house the day before, so now you had nothing to do. But then, you had a creative idea. You get up and watch towards your bathroom. You get out your makeup supplies, setting it all on the counter before you hopped up on the bathroom counter and sat in the sink, almost like you and the mirror were having a very close and intamite talk. You hum as you slowly start putting on your makeup, you were trying out new makeup style, just going with the flow and seeing if you would try anything new. Lando was orginally next to you on your shared bed, once you went to the bathroom, he paid no attention, just scrolling on his phone, but then he heard clinking and the humming. He always knew you were doing your makeupif you were humming. You didn't put on music while you did your makeup, finding it too distracting and scared you would mess up with your makeup. Lando get up and walked into the bathroom, he looks at your seating arrangment and starts laughing. "Hey gorgeous." He says, chuckling. "Hi sweetie." You mumble, blending out the concealer under your bottom lip. You go back to hummong and doing your makeup as you still hear Lando snicker from behind you. "Can you notttt?" You whine and turn back to face him. Then suddenly, you had an idea. Lando looked at you nervous and confused as you smiled wickedly at him. Then, the gears all clicked into action and he got the memo. "Oh no. oh no no no no no, your not doing my makeup!" He starts backing away as you hop off the counter and start slowly edging towards him. "Nope!" He yells before running away, but you chase after him. After a little wild goose chase around the house, you back him into a corner, and get you eyelash curler our of your pocket. "No escaping now." You smirk. Before he has a chance to slip past you, you jump on top of him, causing you both to land on the ground. "Let's do this." You giggle." "Ugh... no...." Lando complains. "And....done!" You exclaim as you back away from Lando. His eyebrows were done, highlighter on his nose and corner of his eyes and eyelashes were done. He looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, looking from all sides before he gives a nod of approval. "I look soooo sexy.." He puts out a couple of poses, a flash goes off and Lando looks at you. Your phone in you hands as you start to laugh some more. "Don't post that." Lando warns you. "Hm..." You pretended to think. "I'm serious!" He starts to sound desperate. "Instagram is gonna love this!" You giggle and Lando starts chasing you, this time, causing another chase.

[florihye]

( ♡ )⠀𝒏. 𝒓𝒊𝒌𝒊 . . . ℎ𝑒𝑦𝑎 𝑐𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑒 :) .ᐟ

꒷꒦ ❛ hola, ¿cómo está', she said こんにちはこんにちは ❜

⟢ meetcute w/ riki! && n.rk x f!reader . . . when riki is captivated by the way you move ৲ includes mentions of body, money, idk what else silliness !! 834wc

RIKI RUSHED THROUGH the overflowing halls of his high school, filled with sweaty, graceless students all eager to leave the building at once. he internally groaned at all the immature screams that bounced off the walls.

the young boy’s mind was detached, only focused on one thing: the mysterious dancing girl.

or at least, that’s what he called her.

everyday, at around 5:00pm (conveniently just when he would get out of school!) there was this alluring girl who riki could only describe as beautiful, who baltered outside the bustling buildings on 64th street.

she was such a stunning contrast from the smoke of cigars in the gloomy air or the frowning faces of all the passing new yorkers.

riki, being a devoted dancer himself, never wasted a moment when it came to watching your breathtaking show. he ran impressively fast, even under the heat of the merciless summer sun, while ignoring all the weird glances and stares that passersby gave him.

and finally, he found himself facing you, who was messing with your phone as you tried to find the right tune to match your dancing. he noticed the corners of your lips raise up into a satisfying smile, the one that always laced your beautiful face when you found the perfect song.

you put the phone on the ground, making sure the music was turned all the way up before placing your ‘money hat’ right next to it. street dancing was unethically a great way to make money, you learned.

you were just about to start dancing when your eyes lit up like two full bright moons, due the cute boy who had a big gray hoodie on & headphones wrapped around his pretty neck. he was about two feet from you, the same one who always watched with a hope-filled smile every time you performed. it was truly the most precious thing you’ve seen in a long while.

your cheeks flushed a rosy red and a feeling of pride washed over you; you felt the need to dance even better every time this boy showed up, the unconscious sensation making you want to impress him more and more with every single one of your moves.

and so you did just that: your body moved to the music flawlessly, like ocean waves or dandelions floating in the wind. a crowd slowly gathered near you, but your eyes were suddenly unwilling to leave the boy, who watched you with never ending astonishment taking over his features.

your glowing, free aura was truly captivating; anyone with half a brain could tell. the longer you danced, the harder it was for riki to pull his gaze away from you.

his stupor was disturbed though, thanks to a —most likely stupid— idea that ignited his mind. he smiled while watching people drop loose change into the hat you placed next to your phone. giddily pulling out a pen and a slim piece of paper, he wrote his number down in messy writing, signed by small lettering at the bottom that read “call me?”. he pulled out a $20 bill and dropped both slips into your hat, slyly making sure you were watching him.

soon (too soon for riki’s comfort) your performance ended and you took a bow in return to the ovation you received, giggling to yourself when you noticed how the cute guy, who it would be fitting to call your biggest fan now, was evidently clapping the loudest amongst everyone else.

riki grinned childishly after seeing the delicate giggles that left your mouth, feeling his heart swell with joy. that same glistening grin didn’t leave his face, even as he walked home under the setting sun. his mind never once left the ambrosian enigma that was you, and the way your hips moved as easily as a flowing waterfall to the pulsating beat that still resonated throughout his entire chest.

upon reaching his home and swinging open the door, riki bowed to his parents and greeted them kindly before hurriedly pacing upstairs to his bedroom. his brain filled with unending thoughts, the most prominent one being if the pretty dancer had messaged him yet or not.

riki’s hands run through the darkened mess of his tangled hair before he searches his jean pockets for his phone. after pulling it out riki bit on his lip, the excitement he had soon replaced with anxiousness.

realistically, he didn’t even know if you liked him, he just acted upon a hopeful whim, honestly.

all doubts that filled his mind were quickly replaced with shock and utter disbelief.

a small notification lit up riki’s phone screen and he read the simple message that was displayed over and over again, with wide eyes and a smile to match; riki pushed back the urge to squeal like a little girl in a candy shop while gripping his phone even tighter.

— heya, cutie! thx for the 20 :)

𐙚 . . via's entry ❫ wrote this watching natty's sugarcoat mv lol 𓈒ㅤׂ 𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ tysm for reading! 𓂃 read PART2 ! ৎ networks : @a-dream-bookmark ৎ perm tl : @sainns (send an ask to join !)

[uplatterme]

alright, going to bed. sooo, here’s an aether thirst from yours truly!

—sub!bottom!aether, top!dom!amab!reader, consensual somnophilia, stomach bulge. needy aether w mischievous reader!

aether’s breathing stutters, feeling your chest on his back. it’s warm, and the closeness between you two is making his body heat up which puts the temperature he endures when fighting the pyro regisvine to shame.

he shouldn’t be feeling this hot, considering the fact that he’s not even wearing a shirt. the only thing covering him is his pants and his locks that gracefully flowed down his body.

aether should get away, that’s what the logical part of his brain says. unfortunately, his body seems to disagree.

to be fair, how could he? especially when he feels the way that your cock presses just right on his entrance, teasing him and driving the outlander insane.

god, he wants you. he needs you to make him a mess on the same sheets that you were sleeping on, to have him drool on the pillows as you push his head down on the cushion, muffling his screams, knowing you don’t like loud noises during nighttime.

the blonde carefully slips down his pants. he swears he’s not going to do anything out of line, even if you’ve said that this kind of thing was fine before.

he calms himself. technically, it’s less embarrassing since he didn’t have you spouting out utter nonsense in his ear about how he’s such a good boy, or sometimes, the degrading names you call him while pulling on his braid as if it was a leash.

that doesn’t stop the way his chest thumps heavily or his previously limp cock getting hard when you finally nudge yourself onto his bare skin.

he doesn’t do much. he only grinds himself on your sleeping body, rubbing your cock with his cheeks.

he just wanted to know what it felt like, that’s it. he’s satisfied.

aether cups his mouth as your hand lays on his waist, sitting there neatly.

…

he covers his face with his hands. all logical thoughts going out the window when he stretches out his rim with the tip of your cock.

“j-just the tip…” he whispers. right, no more than this. he’s already edging himself with humping on you earlier, anything more would be ridiculous.

he breathes deeply, trying to remain focused. his walls feel empty, but he’s not going to give in. this is fine, he tells himself.

he bites his bottom lip, stroking his own cock with your tip inside of him. he can finish on his own, he just needs to feel your warmth.

but as he does this, his whole body shrivels up when your arm on him tightens and you push yourself all the way in without warning, hugging him. the hand that he was using to jack off finds its way to his mouth, covering it as he lets out a silent scream.

you have somehow put your entire cock in, leaving him speechless from the action.

“oh god, oh god.” he utters, trying to be as quiet as possible.

he sees the way your cock outlines itself on his tummy and the mere sight of it is enough to make him burst.

he didn’t even prep himself that much. however, your sleepless body also acts like you when you’re awake, being as savage and ruthless when it comes to breaking him apart.

“no, no, no, no—” the outlander chants, he’s so close. he’s so fucking close that he doesn’t care anymore.

his body starts moving slowly. it’s hard to do this on his own when he’s so used to you doing it for him. still, he pushes through.

it’s as if his walls refuse to remove itself from your length, hugging your cock as tight as possible. how the hell do you even pound into him at such a speed?

his entire body is trembling. just a bit more to send him over the edge, please.

and as he thrusts himself at an abnormally slow pace, crying at the lowest volume he possibly can. he feels your fingers grab the sides of his waist and extract yourself before proceeding to push the entirety of your cock to the deepest part of him that he feels his body actually breaking.

“slut.”

your voice sends aether to an orgasm, his cock spilling as much as possible, his pants being ruined and his thighs quivering on yours.

his breathing skips, surprised at your movement and the way you degrade him. he wants to cry even more.

this is so embarrassing, how long had you been awake?

he flinches when your teeth bites on his neck, marking his tired body as he relaxes from his orgasm.

“since you pulled your pants off. you’re not exactly discreet, nor can i ignore the way you whimper like a pathetic whore.” you answer, as if you knew exactly what he was going to ask.

he flushes red at that, looking deeply into your eyes, shame disappearing wholeheartedly from his vocabulary.

“m-more?” aether stammers out.

“of course, sweetheart.” you kindly obliged.

[hysteria-things]

SINFUL DESIRES (part two)

read part one here

read part three here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: of course the two of you still “hate” each other. although, it’s not just the sex. you both know that.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, p in v, spanking, praising, possessiveness, hair pulling, video, pet names (pretty)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 661

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ask for part two and you shall receive part two!

i’m a lover for nathan. that is all.

jerset part ib jersey by @worldlxvlys :)

the spring breeze hits you, making your hair flow in the wind. your best friend dragged you to a lacrosse game, where you know who plays. she knows you hate him, but she always says that you need to ‘live the high school experience.’

right now, your best friend’s mouth hangs open with utter shock. the game hasn’t started yet, so this seemed like the right time to spill the beans. “you’re telling me that nate — the person you despise — showed up at your house two weeks ago and fucked the shit out of you?”

“yup.” you exhale. “i couldn’t look at my parents for a week. told them i was watching porn and it accidentally connected to my speaker, but i don’t think they believed me.”

“holy shit.” she laughs.

you stand up from the bleachers, shoving your hands in your pockets. “i’m going to the snack stand before they come out. you want anything?”

she shakes her head. “no thanks.”

you step down the bleachers and head to the snack stand. the line isn’t long, thank goodness.

as you approach, a hand grabs your forearm and pulls you to the side. you startle at the contact.

nate’s grinning in front of you, all geared up and ready to play. “nate, what the hell?!” you scream, looking up and down his body.

your eyes start at where his eyeblack is, then to his jersey with the number 8 on it, and lastly to his cleats.

ah, shit.

“hi.” he waves in your face.

you roll your eyes. this kid.

he starts to fidget with your hoodie strings. this is the most confused you probably ever been in your life. “you coming over tonight?” he asks.

you stare blankly at him waiting for more information, but of course, he doesn’t give any. “for what?”

he shrugs. “to hang out.”

“fu-uck!” you moan as nate rails into you from behind, your ass red from the few times he spanked it. the remains of your last orgasm still make a mess on your thighs.

he has you bent over his desk, his hands bunching up the bottom of his jersey that he put on you.

somerville won the game, and according to him, this was his reward. you are his reward.

his eyes are focused on the DOE right above his jersey number. you’re wearing his name, and he’s making sure you know it.

you’re on your tippy toes, each thrust making you quiver with pleasure. your nails claw at the wood beneath you.

“jesus,” he whispers, grabbing his phone so he can record what you look like with his name on. he’s so fucking fascinated by it.

he grips onto your hair. “you look so beautiful getting fucked in my jersey, don’t you think?”

“mhm,” you grumble, your eyes threatening to cross.

he grips tighter, giving you a little spank. “use your words, pretty.”

“y-yes. i—” you’re cut off by a whimper when his tip hits that familiar spot inside of you. “gonna c-cum, nate.”

you squeeze around him as your pussy squelches, threatening to spew your liquid. he groans. “clenching around me so tight.”

you scream when he starts to go faster, hitting inside you deeper than before. your whole body trembles when you spread your cum around his dick. “there you go… that’s it.”

he shoots into the condom short after you, pulling out and throwing it in the trash can that’s set on the floor next to the desk. he places his phone back down.

he turns you around and leans in, kissing you passionately on the lips. he hums before pulling away. “i hate how much i like you.”

you smirk, but the blush on your cheeks gives you away. “i hate how much i like you, too.”

later that night while you’re in bed, you get a text message. you gasp when you open it.

nate.

[attachment: 1 video]

just a reminder

sweet dreams, pretty

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom

[afterglowkatie]

hate that i love you (not really) | k.c.c.

kyra cooney-cross x reader | 2.7k | a night out with the arsenal girls. misunderstandings and jealousy leads to realisations and regrets

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the pair of pests universe. thank you for being so patient with me. the ending to this went a lot different to how i originally planned it to go, but i like where it went and i hope you all like it too. i also kind of think this part is horrible but yeah enjoy and thank you :)

You hardly slept not being able to stop thinking about Kyra. Thoughts swirling around your head, wondering why she wouldn’t tell you. You thought you told each other everything. The only conclusion your mind would believe is that there was something going on between Kyra and Lia. There wasn’t any other possible reason that you could reason with being true. 

You didn’t know how you felt about the thought of Kyra liking someone but you knew it didn’t feel great. It felt like you had swallowed a weight that was now just sitting in the bottom of your stomach. You could feel your face scrunch up in a look of disgust. These thoughts and feelings you hated having but you couldn’t get them out of your head.

It’s what kept you up almost the entire night, up until you couldn’t help but fall asleep from pure exhaustion. Though you didn’t end up sleeping much. Thankful that you had the next few days to just rest and you didn’t have to put your tired self through any training. Resting the whole day until you decide to pester Steph into getting ready for the night out together.

‘Stephy come on,’ You whined when Steph wouldn’t take another shot with you after the two you had already downed close together, ‘Kyra would do it,’ 

‘Well why aren’t you with her instead of bothering me,’ Steph joked around, continuing to do your makeup after you begged her until she finally agreed, ‘Really shouldn’t poke fun at someone who’s could make you look real stupid,’ 

‘You better not,’ Your smile dropped and you glared at your older sister, ‘If you somehow manage to mess up perfection, it’ll be the last thing you do,’ You tried to threaten her instead Steph laughed out loudly at you.

‘You don’t have an intimidating bone in your body, you’re too cute,’ Steph poked your nose with the brush she had in her hand making you scrunch your nose up and even further prove her point.

‘Older sister bias,’ You rolled your eyes, swatting her hand away from poking you on the nose with the brush again.

‘Nah the girls will agree with me, I’ll ask them tonight,’ Pushing Steph lightly you reached past her taking another shot of vodka.

‘Gonna need the whole bottle to put up with you,’ The two of you laughed even more, somehow managing to get yourselves ready between the constant back and forth banter you’d started.

Though you were the last two to arrive, Steph dragged you out of the house before you could change your outfit for the thousandth time while complaining about how you couldn’t bring Calvin to the club with you. Your already half drunk self trying to set up a solid plan on how you could create a dog friendly club. 

Steph had no idea what you were going on about but was grateful to make it to the club and pass you off to Kyra, knowing she was one of the only people who could make sense of you. As soon as you entered you saw the rest of the girls, though your eyes scanned through looking for the one person you wanted to see the most.

The alcohol already flowing through your body didn’t help one bit when your eyes landed on Kyra, especially seeing her next to Lia. It felt like time had stopped and your body was frozen in place when you saw Kyra laugh at something she had said. 

Taking a deep breath you tore your eyes away, pushed everything down, put the smile that had dropped slightly back on your face and walked yourself to the opposite end of the group, as far away from Kyra as you could.

Your sister furrowed her eyebrows watching you not greet your best friend and, instead, joining the group that she had joined moments before you. Something was a bit off but Steph couldn’t put her finger on it. Shaking her head she decided to let it go for tonight, letting herself not worry about you, tomorrow would be a different story.

‘My sister here, thinks she’s intimidating,’ Steph voiced out, not letting go to prove her point that the other girls would agree with her.

‘You’re joking?’ Katie laughed out raising her eyebrow turning to look at you, ‘Everyone would laugh if you tried to intimidate them,’ 

‘You’re the least intimidating person I know, mate,’ Leah joined in the conversation, handing you a drink then putting her arm around your shoulder, ‘Oh cheer up, you’re cute and endearing. You don’t need to look tough when you have that,’ Leah squeezed your arm, you rolled your eyes and a small smile formed on your lips.

‘When I’m back on the pitch I’ll show you,’ You mumbled into your drink, knowing no one at the table would ever find you intimidating. Thankfully the conversation naturally shifted away from you being the focus, allowing you to relax beside Leah.

If it wasn’t a night where everyone was allowed to completely let loose, the other girls would probably be concerned with how much you were drinking. Your behaviour wasn’t completely unusual, especially for a night out, but it was still slightly out of the ordinary.

Every time you heard her laugh, every time you looked up and saw how she was unaffected by your absence around her that she seemed, you drowned your feelings with even more alcohol. It wasn’t healthy but at least it could mute how much you were feeling, how much you were feeling towards Kyra. 

Kyra could have other friends, you were never jealous over that. But the possibility of her liking someone, someone that wasn’t you, didn’t sit well with you. Dealing with your emotions could be done another day, it wasn’t your problem for today. You wanted to have fun and you knew you had to get further away from the group to properly ignore Kyra and Lia the rest of the night.

However, the moment you walked in, Kyra did notice that you were here. It was comical how Kyra visibly perked up at the sight of you. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, making sure to not be too noticeable in her happiness towards you finally showing up, ‘You can finally stop checking the door every few seconds,’ Lia leant in joking around quietly to Kyra causing her to take her eyes off of you and laugh at Lia’s teasing. 

Just happened that the moment you spotted Kyra was the one time she wasn’t already looking at you and instead engaged in a conversation with Lia. Kyra expected you to come over to her and then you could’ve spent the night together, like you both had planned. She felt your presence disappear and saw that you had joined the group of girls that wasn’t with her. 

Lia frowned watching Kyra visibly deflate, ‘She’ll come over, probably just saying hi to everyone first,’ Lia tried to cheer Kyra up. It worked for the most part until Kyra realised that you weren’t coming over to her. She didn’t know if she had done something wrong or something to upset you. 

Before Kyra could get lost in her thoughts, Lia kept prompting her and engaging her within the conversation with the other girls around them. Trying to keep her away from thinking about you and your weird behaviour towards her, just wanting Kyra to enjoy her night.

No matter how much Lia tried to cheer Kyra up, it never fully worked. Kyra kept sneaking glances your way. She would watch the way you were interacting with others, mostly with Leah, any hopes that she had of you liking her the same way she liked you were quite low now. But even just as a friend, the way you were acting had Kyra overthinking. In the years you’ve known each other neither of you have fully ignored the other's presence. Kyra was mostly just worried about you instead of upset with you.

‘Le, come dance with me,’ You suddenly stood up and tugged at Leah’s arm trying to drag her to the dance floor with you.

‘You sure that’s a good idea?’ Leah noticed how much you were drinking and had stopped herself from drinking more so she could keep an eye on you. Leah also cared for you and your injury, overhearing within the locker room she knew how much being off the pitch and not playing had impacted you and didn’t want you to do something to keep you out longer.

‘Le,’ You whined, ‘I’m off crutches now, I can dance. Stop worrying,’ Glancing up towards Kyra’s direction, you made eye contact briefly before you successfully managed to get Leah up and moving with you, putting even more distance between you and Kyra.

It felt like Kyra spent most of the night watching you from afar. If she was more confident in herself she would’ve gone over to the dance floor and taken you away from Leah. In her mind that’s what she did, if it wasn’t a night out where everyone else would be watching her actions and the potential of outing her feelings for you and if it wasn’t with Leah then Kyra would’ve definitely taken you away and had you dance with her instead.

‘Let’s go get another drink,’ Lia’s voice brought Kyra back to reality. Taking a deep breath Kyra agreed and followed Lia towards the bar, ‘Leah doesn’t like her like that and I’m pretty sure they’re just having fun,’ They opted to sit at the bar and sip on their drinks there instead of going back to the others.

‘Why didn’t she come and see me though?’ Kyra glanced back your way, watching you dancing with Leah. Leah’s hands on your waist and your arms wrapped around her neck, Kyra wishing that it was her instead of Leah. But if anyone didn’t know, they would think you and Leah were together with the way you were dancing all over each other, well with the way you were dancing all over Leah trying to not think about anything other than getting lost in the music.

‘I think you need to talk to her. Not tonight, no. Another day. Tell her everything, communicate with her,’ Lia’s advice scared Kyra. Scared of the possibility of rejection. Scared to lose her friendship with you by saying the wrong things. You were a big part of Kyra’s life and to have the potential to ruin it all scared her more than anything else ever has. More than when she first moved away from home to play overseas.

‘There’s my favourite pest,’ The voice Kyra dreaded hearing tonight coming from Steph, ‘Everything all right?’ Steph’s head nodded in your direction while talking to Kyra.

‘Yeah, I just didn’t feel like dancing,’ Kyra sighed. Steph could tell that wasn’t the truth, she hadn’t seen her sister interact with Kyra all night. A stark difference from how you and Kyra were acting in the locker room just yesterday. The silent exchange between Lia and Steph had the older girl not pushing her friend any further. Instead, Steph put her arm around Kyra and pulled her in for a brief hug. Hoping to make her feel a little better, making a note to talk to you about everything tomorrow.

You saw Lia and Kyra head to the bar together and continued to get even more lost in the music. Pushing yourself further into Leah, though in the back of your mind you were pretending Leah was Kyra. But you convinced yourself Kyra was with Lia and she didn’t want or need you anymore. Your mind failing to keep the irrational thoughts pushed down, letting them all come to the surface and pushing down any rational line of thinking.

A mix of the alcohol, the endless thoughts and the music pumping through your ears, your head started spinning. Feeling uneasy and quite dizzy you ended up stumbling a few times. Luckily, Leah’s hands were already on your waist managing to keep you upright and not letting you make a fool of yourself.

‘Do you want me to take you home?’ Leah whispered in your ear, knowing you weren’t doing alright when she felt your head rest on her shoulder and your body stop moving. With a small nod, Leah had the two of you heading towards where Steph was, still at the bar with Kyra and Lia. As soon as you saw Kyra and Lia it felt like something inside of you took over and you tried to act more put together than you were feeling. 

‘I’m gonna take her home,’ Leah semi shouted over the music to Steph. You weren’t focused on their brief conversation instead you looked towards the other two. Suddenly your arm was wrapped around Leah, pulling her closer to you while you had a slight smirk on your lips. Your other hand moved to rest on top of Leah’s that was resting on your waist, playing with her fingers a little bit.

Part of you wanted her to feel the same way you felt every time you saw those two together tonight. You were feeling so much you felt like you were going to burst. Everything felt confusing and you weren’t sure how to process exactly what you were feeling but you knew that you hated it. You hated it and you hated Kyra for making you feel like this. But you really didn’t hate her. You love Kyra and you hate yourself for only realising it now. You hate yourself for realising you love her when she’s clearly got someone else.

You hate how your head won’t stop spinning, how everything doesn’t make sense. Part of you hates that you caught feelings for your best friend. But you love the way Kyra always makes you feel. You love the way she makes you feel safe, the way you can be completely yourself and you’ll never feel judged. You hate yourself for making things messy in your own head. You hate that you’ll never be able to tell her, that you’ll have to go on pretending until these feelings stop.

You love Kyra. But you hate that you love her the way that you do. But you love that you love her. Nothing makes sense and everything feels wrong but right at the same time. You wish you could curl up in a ball under your covers until everything suddenly made sense, until everything felt completely right again. 

Avoiding feelings, avoiding hard situations was what you did best. It was easier. Drinking was supposed to make it easier to forget everything for one night, instead it did the opposite and caused you to confront your feelings rather than hide from them. 

You were too far gone in your head to realise that you had made it back to Steph’s apartment, the place you called home for now. It was only when you felt a lack of warmth from Leah that you noticed your surroundings. The feeling of the cold air sending chills through your body. You wrapped your arms around yourself, you didn’t want to be left by yourself. Not when all you’d do is torture yourself with your own thoughts.

‘Did you want me to-’ You cut Leah off, catching her and yourself off guard when you cupped her cheeks and pressed your lips against hers. You didn’t know why you did it, you just wanted to be close to someone. You want your mind to stop and you don't know how to do that. This was the first thing you thought of. Thinking before you act isn't your best quality.

Leah’s hands gently pushed at your shoulders, causing you to separate from her. You kept your eyes closed afraid she would be mad at you, afterall you did just push yourself onto her. You were overwhelmed with emotions when you opened your eyes and Leah was staring at you with concern etched on her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ Tears sprung to your eyes but you did your best to hold them back, not wanting to let what was inside you out.

‘Tiny, what’s going on? Are you okay?’ Leah instantly pulled you into a hug when the tears you tried to keep back came streaming down your face. Everything within you felt like it had exploded, everything around you felt like it was going to crumble away from you. You wanted it to stop.

‘I don’t know,’ 

[lovelaurs]

may i request a mcd Laurance or Travis (or both??) x reader fic where reader is on their period and having like super bad cramps and overheating and Laur and/or Trav are just trying their absolute best to help??

also just wanna say i adore your fics!! i absolutely loved the last one you wrote from my request (he/him lesbian laur x aroace aph), its was literal perfection <3

LOOKING AFTER YOU

pairing : mystreet travis, laurance x gn reader synopsis : your boyfriend takes care of you while you're on your period! tags : periods, cramps, comfort, cuddling, support word count : 1.2k | around 550 words for each one! a/n : as someone who ends up reading comfort fics of my favorite characters comforting me on my period while cramping, i thought this was a really fun request to right! hopefully this can bring some comfort to someone while they're in pain! - just going to clarify that this is still gender neutral! the only thing that is physically canon within this is having a period, but that does not define the gender of the reader!

MASTERLIST

Like clockwork, your time of the month had come.

I mean, it wasn’t like you were that shocked, as your calendar predicted it would come any day now. But… did it have to be today? Really? The day that you and your boyfriend were planning on going on a date?

I mean, come on!

You hadn’t even gone to the bathroom to check the bloody mess you probably caused, knowing you’d have to move around to clean it.

And your bones just ached.

You found yourself lying in bed, groaning, as a familiar voice knocked at your door.

Shit.

TRAVIS

“Hey, babe? You okay?” Travis called from behind the door.

A particular strong cramp hit you just as you were about to respond, causing your voice to waver and sound almost cracked.

“Y-Yep! Just peachy…”

There was a bit of silence as Travis processed how you sounded.

After a few seconds passed, he asked. “Can I come in?” He slowly turned the handle, ready to open the door but pausing to hear your response.

“Fine…” The word was drawn out, mumbled as you turned to your other side, squeezing your pillow.

As he opened the door, he saw you curled up on your bed, your hair frizzy after the amount of tossing and turning you’ve done ever since you woke up.

He quickly rushed over to the side of the bed, kneeling down. “What’s wrong?” He worriedly put a hand to your forehead, looking for a temperature. “Do you feel overheated?”

“No need, Travis. I’m not sick.” You made what sounded to be an inhuman noise as you turned over onto your other side to face him. “I’m just on my period. These cramps are killing me.”

He blinked twice before running to the bathroom, opening up the bottom cabinet and frantically looking for any menstruation products he could find.

He came back with boxes of tampons and pads stacked in his hands, laying them down on your dresser. He began lifting each up, reading the labels to find ones for heavy flow for your first day.

“Let’s see… thin, overnight, swimming…” He kept looking over the boxes, picking up several ones that seemed good for first day flows. “Do you want pads or tampons?”

You groaned out your answer and he nodded, grabbing the box and placing it next to you on the nightstand.

You grabbed his arm and pulled him in, wanting a sense of pressure (his arms) around you. 

Travis got the message almost instantly and crawled across the bed, curling in next to you.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and putting pressure on the exact spot you needed it most.

As he put his head into the crook of your neck, he snuggled against you. “You know, you’re going to have to get up eventually.”

You frowned at the thought. “But I don’t want to walk to the bathroom…” You groaned, stuffing your face into the pillow. 

“Well then.” He released you from his arms and got off the bed. “How about I just carry you there?” “What-”

Before you could answer, the man already picked you up, passing you the box you chose earlier, and walked towards the bathroom.

“T-Travis! What are you doing?”

He smiled at you as he placed you down on the lidded toilet seat. “You said you didn’t want to walk over here, right? Well, problem solved.” He then turned the shower on, making sure it was just the right temperature before he headed to the door. “I’ll go make your bed so we can cuddle when you’re out. And if you need anything else, don’t be afraid to ask, okay?”

“But what about our date-”

“Don’t worry, we can always reschedule.” He reached for the door handle, winking at you. “Besides, I prefer to spend the rest of the day cuddling with you instead!”

LAURANCE

“Laurance…” You groaned his name from your bed.

He slowly opened the door at your call, worriedly peaking in before pushing the door open.

As he looked at you curled up in a ball, he sat on the side of the bed, petting your head. “Cramps, huh?”

You nodded, inhaling sharply as your insides felt like they were twisting.

“I’m going to get you some Advil and heat up your heating pad, alright?” He wasted no time and quickly made his way out of the room, heading for the kitchen.

He hurriedly put the heating pad in the microwave and fetched you the bottle of Advil from the cabinet. He tapped his foot as he hummed a tune, waiting for the heating pad to finish heating up in the microwave.

On his way back, he made sure to grab a water bottle too. He didn’t want you to get dehydrated now, did he?

It wasn’t long before he came back to your room with both hands full of the items, smiling warmly.

It felt like Irene truly blessed you by giving you such a caring man.

He helped you sit up, opening the bottle cap for you and passing you the water as you took the medicine, before finally placing the heating pad on your abdomen. You couldn’t help but sigh as you leaned back against your pillow.

This man would hold the world up for you if it meant you were comfortable, huh?

You scooched in, patting the space next to you, welcoming Laurance into your bed.

He giggled at the sight before laying down next to you, pulling the covers over himself. Laurance quickly wrapped his hands around your waist, holding you tightly. The pressure against you felt almost heaven sent.

“You know, I think this is better than going out on a date.” He nuzzled his face into your hair. “Just the two of us cuddling in bed for who knows how long… I prefer it like this.”

You hummed onto the sheets, before turning yourself around so you could shove your face into his neck. “Mhm… I’m sorry for ruining our date, though.”

Laurance snickered. “How is this your fault in the first place? What, did you manually turn a bleeding switch on or something?”

“No… it’s just that we had everything planned out, with reservations and-”

“Well, we can have just as much fun at home compared to going out to eat.” Laurance grinned, pulling out his phone and opening YouTube. “We can have our own make-shift date right now! Do you want to watch something to help distract you from your cramps?”

You snuggled closer to your boyfriend, humming in agreement as you begin to watch a bunch of funny cat videos.

By the time the videos finished, your Advil had kicked in and you were feeling way better.

You turned to tell Laurance but found him fast asleep, head against your shoulder, breathing softly.

He looked downright adorable.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you took a picture of him like this… right?

You reached over him, trying to get your phone from the nightstand, when all of the sudden you hear him stir, mumbling your name.

With his arms still around you, you were pulled down against the bed as he pulled you to his chest. 

The way his arms slid around your back just felt too good to be true.

He makes your cramps just a little bit better.

@lovelaurs, 2024. do not repost this work in any way!

[brewed-pangolin]

There's something so hypnotic about Soap's mouth...

NSFW below the cut

Soap’s mouth is like a force of nature.

He kisses you like you're air and he’s been suffocating for weeks. He’ll hold your face within his hands, keeping your head still as he tilts his just so. Sealing his lips over your mouth as he devours your luscious and life-giving essence.

And he savors the taste of your mouth like a fiend. Soap’s known to have a very enthusiastic tongue, and making out is no exception. And if you tease him by biting his bottom lip, he’ll lose it. He’ll either fuck you right then and there or, if you’ve been successfully riling him up, come right in his pants. So tread lightly.

He trails his mouth over you skin like a pilgrim traversing a fantastical landscape. Delving into every curve, tasting the subtle changes in your flavor, and putting to memory your reactions to the gentle caresses of his lips along your more sensitive areas.

Soap especially enjoys the way you whimper when he trails his mouth over your calf. Lightly dragging his teeth along the sensitive flesh, just below the bend of the knee as he teasingly pumps his cock at a glacial pace into your soaking core.

And he eats you out like a man on death row, and you are his last supper. He savors the taste of your heat, how it changes depending on your diet, and the subtle shifts in acidity in accordance with your changing hormones. He says he prefers you taste right before your cycle. Your flavor is sweeter, more robust. As if your body is preparing him for a feast that only he had been lucky enough to pick up on.

Before Soap, you were reluctant. Shy even, to let a man take advantage of you in such a vulnerable way. But now, you can’t see your life being anything less than pleasurably dull without him. 

But it isn’t always what Soap does with his mouth that has you caged like an animal inside his languid prison. It’s what comes out of it.

His voice.

That low, rumbling brogue that echoes from the speaker when he’s halfway across the globe and all he has is a cellphone and fifteen minutes at his disposal. His words generating the most pleasurable and obscene images in your mind, a talent only he can possess.

“Tha’s it, bonnie. Add ‘nother finger fo’me. Stretch tha’ sweet fuckin’ pussy like y’know I do.”

“Steaming hell. Can ‘ere how wet ya are, love. Keep goin.”

“Donnae hol’ back, lass. Got’a ‘ear ya moan fo’me.”

“I cannae…I canne cum…until ya moan…my name, bonnie.”

His deep Scottish accent rolling off his tongue and straight to your pulsing core. Pumping your fingers vigorously, doing your best to mirror his actions. Yet nothing can compare to the reality that is him.

And after his verbal torture he calms your trembling mind, still reeling from your orgasm with the affection of a gentle lover. Using that rumbling purr you’ve grown to adore in the afterglow of a powerful climax.

“Ya so good fo’me, bonnie. So fuckin’ good.”

“Bet ya made a mess, didn’ya? Mhmm. That’s how I want ya, lass. A mess an’ beggin’ for me.”

You didn’t know what your life was like before him, besides unfulfilled in pleasure. He opened you to a world you had only read about in romance novels and seen within the stories on television. You didn’t think it was real. Unachievable. Until the Scottish siren that is John ‘Soap’ MacTavish thrusted himself into your life. 

Now, you couldn’t imagine living a life without him.

Addicted to a man and his mouth. Naturally. Like the continuous flow of oxygen deep within your lungs.

Drabbles Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @glitterypirateduck @punishmepunisher @homicidal-slvt @jynxmirage @kkaaaagt @mykneeshurt @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @obligatoryghoststare @writeforfandoms @haurasha @havoc973 @macravishedbymactavish @ang3lc @luismickydees

[prokaryotics]

warmth of doorways | joel miller x reader

pairing: no outbreak!contractor!joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel spends another late night at work. you pay him a visit.

warnings: MDNI. plot and porn. allusions to joel's unsavory youth. oral (fem receiving). mentions of violence, past arguments, and money insecurity. joel smokes one (1) cigarette. alcohol. fingering. unprotected p in v. no mention of reader characteristics other than wardrobe. overuse of commas and hyphens. proofread once. 5.8k

mildly inspired by it will come back / i'm on fire

The office clock ticks rhythmically with every second that passes, broken up by the muted whirling of the ceiling fans as they turn almost imperceptibly counterclockwise on the ceiling.  

Austin is quiet. Outside, orange streetlights glow in narrow cones on the sidewalks, humming, straining with electricity as the bulbs fight to keep the pavement lit. If he really listens, he can hear the faint footsteps of heels against the concrete, the soft sounds of giggling and the low baritone of the voice that follows. Somewhere further down the block, someone is closing their car door, almost swallowed by a dog barking. A breeze pushes against the building and flows through a draft near the window's ledge, pushes through the double-paned glass, and brings with it the smell of damp earth and wet asphalt, leftovers of an afternoon storm. The air is cool and calm as if waiting to be born again tomorrow morning into something more alive, more chaotic, as it simmers in the heat of the Texas sun. 

The other contractors have gone home, back to their wives or families or one bedroom apartments, leaving the office silent save for these sounds of a city reminding him that the hour is late, that the night will not wait for him. 

His chair creaks beneath his weight as he shifts, the leather uncomfortably warm from his body heat. 

Joel stares down at his work. Its contents blur together into a massive, nondescript monstrosity of a shape, small lines of scribbled pencil spilling over one another and morphing into a clump of meaningless letters. He tries to spread them out again into something he can read until a film gathers over his eyes. He’s forced to rub them with the heels of his hands, but even then they are still irritated, his tired gaze struggling to focus on anything other than the sting that radiates through his corneas from the strain of keeping them open and concentrated for so long. The paperwork never ends. It just seems to grow and grow in a pile of meeting briefings and documents requiring his signature, clipboards, a backlog of voicemails from clients to listen to, and notes to take. His palm and the space between his fingers are beginning to cramp with the pressure of the pen he’s holding, having gone through almost everything in one sitting, desperate to put even a tiny dent into the mountain that rests before him. 

The fluorescent lighting isn’t helping, blanketing his work space in a coat of sterile white, making everything around him feel sharp and cold and like he’d hurt himself on it, even the half-filled plastic water bottle sitting at the edge of the desk. 

He sighs, leans back, drags his carton of cigarettes against the wood then taps the bottom against its surface a few times, forcibly packing the tobacco tighter. You’ve been trying to get him to relax on his smoking, or at least cut back, but with shit storm after shit storm constantly coasting towards him with no remorse, the nicotine is the only thing keeping him from going entirely AWOL. He does his best not to feel guilty about it. It would be sad, and ironic, that if he managed to make something successful out of the fucking mess of building a business, his downfall would be lung cancer, and he knows you know that, too, but you never push. You’re never like that and he’s grateful for it. 

He lets his mind drift to you and what you must be doing as he lifts his lighter, a small, stainless steel zippo engraved with his initials, a gift from his parents when he graduated high school, and lights his cigarette before bringing his wristwatch to his face, squinting to read the time. 

Almost midnight. 

Hours spent studying schematic designs, imagining rooms, and the lives that might be led within them, has made him lose track of his own. The days blend together, hours passing as easily and fluidly as water does lapping up against sand, every one of his thoughts curtailed by installation fees and HVAC subcontractors, schedule conflicts and site plans.

You’ve been good about that, too. Gentle. Guiding him back into his own existence. Making it easier for him to remember that although overseeing is his job, he doesn’t have to be invariably vigilant, that not every waking second has to be dedicated to worrying, that he’s going to burn himself out if he keeps going on like this. 

So he isn’t surprised when he spots your shadow first, cast long against the polished tiled floors, followed by your appearance in the doorway. 

He instantly relaxes. 

“What are you doin’ here? You should be sleepin,’” Joel chastises, although he’s smiling just a little, flicking his cigarette against the clay ash-tray sitting at the center of his desk, surrounded by notepads and coffee mugs and drafting pencils.

“You should be at home,” you counter, smiling back. 

He pauses, brings the bud back to his lips and takes a drag. The air goes thick and heavy. 

“There’s a lot of things I should be doing," he answers, stress and worry coupled in his voice as he sits forward and exhales, one elbow on the desk, pushing his fingers through his hair, the other dangling with his cigarette, billowing with gray smoke.  

You look at him for what feels like a long time, following the tense line of muscle in his shoulders as they stretch and roll beneath the cotton of his dress shirt, see his eyes close as he rubs a hand over his face, his breath leaving his body in a reticent, exhausted exhale. 

Then he’s watching as you push off the door frame and walk over to him, plucking the bud from between his middle and pointer fingers and quietly extinguishing it, your lips pursed. You lean against the wood of his desk, between his legs. 

Neither of you have forgotten about the plate you’d dropped. It was only some cheap ceramic thing you had picked up while out shopping when you first moved into your house, one of the ones with the grooves on the bottom to keep it from being knocked over as easily, dipped in bright yellow pottery glaze and dotted around its edges by bright blue flowers, the texture of the sponge used to make the design adding a sort of authentic, homey feel. A pretty thing that came in a set of six, the other five still sitting in your cabinets. It wasn’t difficult to clean up, broken into three solid pieces with only some of the powdery dust from its impact really needing to be swept up, but it wasn’t so much about the plate breaking itself than what it meant. What it symbolized. 

Your shattering frustrations. 

His fracturing exhaustion. 

“They can’t wait?” 

Joel leans back. 

“Not most of ‘em, no.” 

“So you’re killing yourself here? Instead of lying in bed with your wife?” You eye the half empty amber bottle of scotch and the glass filled with melting ice next to it, glance at his accolades hung on the wall, certifications he worked tirelessly to achieve. 

He sighs, hollow, empty sounding. “It’s ain’t that simple. I told you they can’t wait.” 

You go to sit in his lap, bringing your palm up to cup his cheek. “It could be. Divide the work. You’re just one man.” 

He grabs your hand. It’s not your fault you don’t know he can’t bring himself to when so much hinges on the success of this enterprise. Your future. Sarah's future.

“I’m just one man in charge of everythin’ else. It isn’t.” 

There’s another pause, filled by your heavy gazes as you look at one another, waiting for the other to yield. It’s been like this before, instances where you’re stuck within pregnant hesitations, expecting the other to give in, too stubborn to realize it shouldn’t be about who breaks first.

You’re learning that, though, no matter how frustrating it is. 

“I miss my husband,” you confess, although it’s not really a confession more than an admittance to what you both already knew, what you’ve both already felt, everything about this feeling delicate and intimate in a way that makes your lungs constrict.  

Joel frowns, turns his head and kisses the inside of your wrist. His gaze is soft upon you, as gentle as the quiet moon. 

“I know. ‘M sorry,” he murmurs against the delicate skin. 

“You could have called,” you whisper, breathy and painfully soft, not sure you’d be able to say it any louder and still maintain the fragile, stunned atmosphere existing in the space between your bodies. 

“I didn’t want to wake you.” 

You almost roll your eyes. No, better to be up and left worrying.

“I wouldn’t have minded.” 

Joel glides his hand up your forearm, his calloused palm warm and heavy, the pad of his thumb brushing soothingly across the bend of your elbow. 

“I would have.” 

Your chest swells up and suddenly you’re choking on bittersweet nostalgia, on memories of when your husband wasn’t being stripped away from you bit by bit by a business he’s trying hard to keep afloat. And you’re choking on sadness, too, on the overwhelming feeling of active loss, so you’re tempted to let yourself lean into it, to just drop the conversation even though you know that you need to have it because sometimes it's easier to let your problems fall asleep quietly rather than wake them by pushing too hard. It’s easier to let yourself rest.

Still, you persist. 

“You can’t keep going on like this. It isn’t just that I miss you, Joel.” 

He knows you won’t repeat yourself. He knows what you mean, anyway. It isn’t about clarity. He’s been doing what he can, suffering what he must. 

“Please, I don’t want to have this argument, honey.” 

The beginnings of a headache are settling somewhere just behind temples, spreading quickly across his forehead, behind his eyes. There’s nothing more he wants than to be able to do what you’re asking, but he chose this profession, and you chose him. He doesn’t have the energy or the will to fight with you right now. 

You reach up and trace the curve of his brow with your thumb, hoping to ease away the wrinkle that lives between them, and maybe mute the thought that has manifested it, the friction and stress of the situation rising until it’s nearly palpable. 

“I’m not trying to argue with you. I’m trying to talk to you, something I seem to be able to do less and less," you explain, palm dropping to mold against the curve of his jaw. 

Joel looks away, at the folders and blue and white floor plans in front of him, at the doorway, half-expecting to see someone standing in it, ready to give him another piece of information that will set construction back weeks and cost him more money than he has.

“You think I enjoy this any more than you do?” The sharpness in his tone is immediately countered by the look of frustrated remorse that softens his expression, a sort of tug on his eyebrows until that damn furrow is finally gone.

“No, I don’t,” you say gently. “And I know that you’ve got a job to do, but I’d like it if it didn’t tear you away from me completely.” 

You twist the hair at the nape of his neck between your fingers as you lean forward, resting your forehead against his own and closing your eyes. 

“I love you, Joel. I miss you. I don’t like sleeping alone in our bed.” 

He won’t apologize again, and he’s sure you wouldn’t want to hear it anyway, but not for any spiteful reason. You’ve both got your hands tied, but he’s sorry for a lot of things - for keeping you awake, for worrying you, for stressing you out, but mostly he’s sorry he’s given you a marriage like this. A marriage filled with nights spent alone in a house he had picked out because it was the safest, because that’s what he needs to think about instead of whether you like the view, or what the outside looks like. He’s got to think about whether the locks will hold, whether the windows won’t shatter completely, whether - god forbid - you can have neighbors to rely on if something were to happen because he’s away all the time now, gone, trying to build a life. 

He’s got to think of these things and you’ve got to make the sacrifices. 

“I don’t like it either.” There’s an unspoken end of his sentence, an ellipse, a part that he leaves out that neither of you wants to say. I don’t like it either, but... 

But this is my job. 

But this is our life. 

But you’ll have to get used to it. 

So he masks it with an exhale, an empty and low sound, as if he’s been waiting for too long with too much, not relieved but resigned. 

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been alone.” He changes the subject, sitting back in his seat as you open your eyes. 

“Yeah,” you agree, trying not to feel bad about it. “Too long. It feels like we’re dating again.” 

Joel chuckles, low and warm and light, like smelling laundry through an open window when the wind carries it through the house, cool and placid. He still looks at you that way, the same way he had when your relationship was just starting, with honey-dewed eyes and a sort of crooked, half-smile, like he wasn’t doing it on purpose, just couldn’t help himself. The same way he’s looking at you now. 

“Except this time your father isn’t here watchin’ us, lookin’ like he wants to kill me.”

Your groan is superseded by your laughter as you shake your head, glad for it but also feeling like time is moving too quickly, too fast for you to really keep up with it. Where had that time gone? Where is it now? 

“Thank God that he isn’t. And he likes you now, it just took him a while.” 

Joel rolls his eyes, scoffing. He’s sat through too many tense dinners and awkward conversations to believe that, even coming from you. 

“Uh-huh. You keep tellin’ yourself that, honey.” Your father is a hardass, but he’s well-intentioned, their every interaction peppered with warnings about providing for you like Joel doesn’t feel guilty enough about dragging you down with him. 

He looks at you, still grinning. 

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh, the remnants of laughter still in your voice. “But I still married you.” 

“For reasons I’ve still yet to understand.” 

“For reasons I’ll remind you of until the day I die.” 

Joel quiets and shifts his gaze to some point of interest on his desk, where one of the edges is chipping, maybe, or maybe he’s looking at a stained ring discoloring the wood because a drink had been left to sweat without a coaster. Nothing important, nothing that warrants catching his attention, the movement secondary to the thoughts in his head to retreat. You both are aware of the alternative to that sentence. 

You guide him back to you. 

“I mean it, Joel. I don’t regret marrying you.” 

“I know you don’t.” Joel rubs his mouth with his hand. He finally meets your gaze as he continues. “But sometimes I wonder what your life could have been like, if it could’ve been better.” 

“It would have been nothing,” you correct fiercely. 

“You would have been comfortable, provided for-.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I know that I put you through hell every day that you’re with me.” 

“Stop it.” 

You don’t even know half of it, he thinks, through no fault of your own. He’s shielded you from what he can, has kept things to himself, given you half-answers when you’d ask why he’s adding overtime dates to the calendar on the fridge, checking to see if Sarah’s lunch is packed before making his own, tossing change into an old paint can on a shelf in his closet. 

‘Things with work,’ he says.

‘Issues with the client,’ he says.

‘I need to stay a little later,’ he says. 

‘This company might fail,’ he doesn’t. ‘And it scares the shit out of me.’ 

“I’m sorry, honey. How can I make it up to you?” 

It isn’t about making anything up to anybody. This is far too complex for that, but he can at least give a little. You sacrifice so much for him, for a life you didn’t really ask to be living, so whatever he can give he knows it won’t even begin to replace what you’ve lost. Your sleep and sanity and security. And it probably won’t ever, but he can try to return the comfort that you give him, the peace of mind, the love. 

The kind that has to be fought for, torn from your chests in hissing, passive aggressive outbursts in the middle of your kitchen that burn like acid with each word that crawls up your throats, or falling easily after being pulled gently from your hands in moments like this, when you’re trying to convince one another that your biggest concerns shouldn’t be each other because you both can’t stand the feeling of being a burden, unable to handle the lurches of guilt and the helplessness that accompanies it. 

“Coming home at a normal hour would be nice.” You aren’t looking to make this conversation any more serious, to be stuck spending a night convincing him that he hadn’t damned you to some sort of anxiety-ridden, fearful existence by proposing to you because for all the bad, all the heartache and stress and worry, there are the good moments too. The early mornings, subdued afternoons spent sitting in the sunshine reading, evenings spent dancing on your patio bathed in warm light from paper lanterns he had hung up the summer before. Moments that are perfect, beautiful, and real and everything you hang on to when the bad ones come. 

Joel senses this and wants to protest, and while he gives you a searching look he refrains from saying anything that might carry the conversation backward. 

“It won’t always be like this,” he says instead, moving one hand to rest at your lower back, his thumb rubbing the soft skin beneath your shirt. “But I like these visits.”

“I’m sure you do. None of this looks at all exciting.” You turn to the desk, at the documents scattered everywhere, at unfinished contract drafts, at illustrations of building models that are far from perfect, with stairs and doors leading nowhere like they lead to some ghost elevator, at the crumbled-up balls of paper. 

“Unfortunately even the borin’ parts are still my job.” 

“Good thing I’m here then, huh?” You shift in his lap, draping your arms around his neck. 

“Yes,” he agrees, both palms now molded against your waist, digging slightly into your hips. “It’s a very good thing you’re here.” 

It feels nice to have these instances, tediums between bigger periods in time like the one you just had, insignificant and maybe not that meaningful but sweet nonetheless, where you can be happy, flirt with your husband while trying your best to speak in hushed, shy voices so the nighttime janitor doesn’t come skirting down the hallway, wondering why he’s hearing a woman’s voice so late at night coming from the contractor’s office.

So you take his face in your hands feeling like a lovesick teenager, his cheeks flushed warm with affection, a little scratchy from a day’s worth of stubble, his eyes soft, and for the first time since you got here, free from the burdens that normally cloud them, and you kiss him, saccharine and slow and easy. 

He tastes faintly like the scotch, and his lips are little bit chapped but they’re amiable in their movements, as if he’d be content to just go on like this kissing you, not worried about where it will lead, or if it’ll lead to anything at all, making you feel slow yet hyper aware from his gentle caresses, and his hands when they climb higher, having moved beneath your shirt, are rough and hot and careful - always so careful with you - and you don’t like to think about why even though you’ve got a pretty good guess. Careful hands that have a history you know only in bits and pieces. Careful hands that have curled into fists, become bloodied and bruised and scabbed. Careful hands that sweat around the grip of a saw, or a hammer, nowadays, the scabs of his youth long gone, but hinted at in the fading white scars that litter his knuckles.

Careful hands that don’t want to risk letting that seep into you, as if you’re something he’d be able to taint, convolute. 

You lean away, then move even further back when he follows, quickly speaking before he’s on you again. “Touch me like you mean it, Joel. Please.” 

“Anythin’ you want, honey.” 

You card your fingers through Joel’s hair, tug slightly at the roots and try not to get too lost in his answering rumble as his kisses slowly grow in intensity until it becomes nearly desperate, finally indulging in the need for closeness he’s stifled to keep himself from cracking beneath the pressure of work completely. 

Joel pulls you closer with a shallow groan, shifts his seat so that you’re right up against the desk, the lip of it digging into your back, but his warmth is seeping into you and through your clothes, so you really don’t care how the wood bites a little into your muscles, coupled with the way his cock is already straining through his jeans, hard and thick and it makes you feel like this entire thing is sort of scandalous. It is dangerous, and even though you know he wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t sure the building was empty, the possibility of being caught does thrill you; makes you grin against his lips, lets him pull you apart piece by piece, his kisses loving and devoted and his hands roaming across your rib-cage and breasts like he isn’t sure where he wants to keep them, wanting to touch all of you at once. 

He rises to his feet, takes a step forward and places you onto the desk, his focus so far away from the papers and other shit that decorates it he doesn’t notice or even really care how they’re being pushed or crumpled or ripped by your movements, desire curling and slivering throughout his body, pooling in his belly, settling itself in his lower abdomen and pressing itself against you, his hips between your legs, the thin fabric of your work skirt doing little to fight the hard outline of his cock against your thigh. 

Joel keeps kissing you, fingers pressed against the space between your shoulder blades, the other flat against the surface of his desk, pausing only once to check the doorway again as he kisses your cheeks, then your jaw, before descending down the gentle curve of your neck, trailing his mouth down and across your collarbone before sucking a bruise into the skin at the base of your throat, right next to your fluttering heartbeat. 

You say his name, syrupy thick and mellow, inhaling sharply when he rolls his hips in response and hums a pleased, vibrating sound that makes you pull him closer and wrap your arm around the broad expanse of his shoulder while the other goes to his belt, untucking his shirt with a shaking, hurried hand, feeling like it's unfair that you’ve got two layers to go through while he only has one, his lips slanting against yours again making it even more difficult to focus on getting him undressed especially now that the palm that isn’t on you is suddenly sliding across your thigh and he’s - God - he’s -

He’s making you feel worshiped. Murmurs of his supplication whispered against your mouth, swallowed by your answering, pitiful moans.  

He has to help you with his belt, lightly pushing your hands away to do it himself, tugging the leather through the buckle and then out of the loops, tossing it haphazardly onto the chair behind him, turning back to you without saying a word, looking so in love with you that it makes your chest ache. 

“Joel-” His name gets caught in your throat, but it doesn’t matter because he’s talking and he knows. He knows exactly how you’re feeling because it’s the same for him too - this longing, this incredible, suffocating, twinge of remorse and grief all jumbled up and twisted somewhere beneath your breastplates for things left unsaid yet still acknowledged, the terrifying things, the things that bring you here when it's midnight and you should be asleep but you aren’t because they’re the same things that keep him away and keep you awake. 

“I’m right here,” he murmurs and it’s like you’re drowning in how much he wants you, his eyes raking over you in a way that makes your entire body feel warm, taking in every inch of you with a reverence that makes your thighs tense up and your cunt squeeze around nothing. 

He urges you to lay back, heavy-lidded and following as you do what he says, your skirt bunched around your waist, waiting for him to do something, anything at all that’ll relieve the restless thrumming that’s settled just below your belly button, spreading like an opening fan throughout your abdomen, converting with every second that passes into a dull pounding that makes everything you’re wearing feel insufferably uncomfortable, hyper aware of the way your panties stick to your cunt, and you’re about to say something again, plead with him to move faster, but he’s leaning down and kissing you - placating you - earnest and cloying and you’re just relaxing into it when he leans away, traveling down and down and down your body until his shoulders are between your legs and he’s - 

You open your mouth to say something but you don’t know what. You can hardly think with the way he inches lower and lower, hooking your already spread legs over his shoulders with so much ease it makes you blush. His arms are positioned on either side of your legs and his breath is hot and swirling over the insides of your thighs and the realization of what he intends to do and the seriousness of where and why and the fact that you’re on his fucking desk of all things makes you tremble and your chest bloom in flustered warmth and your fingers curl into the pliable material of your skirt, waiting for him - always waiting - to do something. 

He starts at your knee, with kisses gentle and sweet, works his way up to the inside of your thigh, humming against the delicate tissue nonsensical praise and muses before giving your other leg the same treatment, the same pattern, sucking bruises and nipping at them pinprick sharp before soothing it with his tongue, making you squirm and gasp with every press of his lips, unsure what to do with the overwhelming affection you hold for him growing exponentially in your chest. 

This continues for a long time, hazy and drunkard slow, calloused palms sliding up and down until it feels like you might explode from the tension and you whisper his name, deferential and restive and it nearly makes him grimace in anguish at all the things he can’t do for you, his heart feeling as if it’s been filled with cement and splintered, then shattered completely - the fragile, desperate whine in your voice splitting it in incomplete halves and you think, unsurely, that if he keeps going on like this you’re going to burn up - catch fire and asphyxiate on the smoke. 

But then his thumbs are hooking beneath the lines of fabric that curves across your hips, and he begins to pull them down, tells you to bend your knees and you listen without a second thought, allowing him to strip you of the garment and then they, too, join his belt on the chair and you’re left with nothing really at all protecting you aside from your skirt but its bunched up around your waist like it has been since he laid you down and not doing a damn thing to stop the shiver that makes you shudder against the desk, your heated skin erupting into goosebumps. 

Joel settles himself and brings his hands to your cunt, reaching out to spread you open. There isn’t time to formulate any sort of thoughts about it or what he’s doing because you can hardly breathe let alone think, Joel’s mouth hot against your pussy, his tongue dragging over your clit and you’ve been so worked up that it hurts, almost, and you’re left trying to push him away and pull him closer in equal measures. 

Your lungs stutter, muscles tensing, all the while panting and keening and rocking your hips with no real sense of direction as he brushes a spot that makes you moan and when you twist your fingers in his hair he makes a sound that’s nearly a growl, then he has one finger inside you then another, fucking you slowly with his fingers, taking his time, curling them up and flexing his wrist, his watch digging uncomfortably into the juncture of your leg where it meets your thigh but its okay because all of its mingling together and he’s suddenly yanking you closer as if he wants to fucking devour you, looking up at you with hungry eyes and the next few seconds seem to last for entire years, everything so intense already that you flutter around him, helplessly keening. 

He sucks gently, looks up again in time to see your eyes screw shut, your eyelashes fluttering as he puts his whole mouth on you, rumbling rich and low at the taste of it, your brows creased tightly in coiled pleasure. Joel groans at the sight from somewhere deep within his chest, his cock twitching, his belly feeling like it's been filled with magma as you dig your nails into his hair, fracturing into little pieces. 

The words he drags from you are babbling, halfway to a cry or sob, something equally as frenzied in its neediness, syllables of his name and something that might be please catching against the rounding of your teeth. 

“I’ll give you what you need, baby. Relax,” Joel appeases against your already oversensitive cunt, the pleasure too much and so much that it makes your toes curl until they hurt, like he’s injected gasoline into your bloodstream and made you swallow a match, ready to snap and burst into a fucking supernova, so close to cumming it feels as if every nerve has been stripped to its bear components. 

The pressure against your clit intensifies, becomes sharp and fierce, his tongue circling over and over again, so acute that your hips twitch and he keeps you pinned - holds you down, keeps going and going and going until the world turns white-hot and bright and you’re choking, every breath drawn in fighting against some invisible leaded anchor and fuck - it’s too much all at once, too much after what feels like so long, too much that life can’t always be like this. 

He eases away from you, presses his lips to your shuddering thighs wet and shiny with your cum, deliberate in his motions as he crawls back up your body, soft and pliant and slightly sore, guiding your legs carefully - tenderly - around his waist. 

“I love you.” 

God you love him too. So much that it physically hurts. 

But arousal, harsh and blinding, eclipses your every sense, keeps you from saying anything at all other than his name, moaned pitifully when you glance down and see him undoing his pants and taking his cock in his hand, hard and thick in his fist and you clutch at his back, feeling spun out and delirious as he pushes in gradually, gently, turning your body into a liquid quiver. 

Joel gasps as if the sound was wrenched from him against his will, and your eyes flicker over him, at the muscles tensing beneath his shirt, the sweat darkening his collar, at his lips, red and raw and plump from kissing you beneath his beard glistening with you, his shoulders broad and his arms are sturdy, and his eyes, when you finally meet his gaze, are blown with affection and desire and love. 

And then it’s broken. 

His hips snap forward and you shift a little up the desk, one of his hands moving to cup the back of your head while the other finds your own, lacing your fingers together and you let out a shaky, short, involuntary whimper as he starts to move, getting pleasantly lost in the feeling of being so stretched and full. 

He trails open-mouthed kisses along your neck, curled over you, and the picture of it in your head, of him so big and broad and draped over you like a second skin, makes your cunt clench and rips a groan from his throat that sounds just as wrecked as you feel, his lips dragging along the underside of your jaw, his fingers squeezing your palm. 

Neither of you are going to last much longer. You’ve already been made too taut, too tight and stretched out and resting on the precipice of something, like fingertips pulling back a bowstring, fiery bright pleasure cementing you to his ministrations when his thumb catches your clit, swiping once, your body singing, then over and over again until your shoulder blades are folding against one another as you rock off the desk and into him, his arm encircling your waist, never stopping, working you through every roiling wave and every filthy noise you make until you collapse - falling away from him whimpering. 

“You’re perfect. So good for me, sweetness. So fuckin’ good.”

His rhythm falters, his breathing hard and burning and shuddering as he holds you against his chest, leaving you to wail against his shoulder, puffing against his neck, clinging onto him like he’s the only thing keeping your grounded and then he shatters too, fingers suddenly in your hair, whispering sentences that you can’t quite make out, adoring among a slew of curses. 

His office comes back in pieces, blurry splinters and slightly out of focus. 

His head tips against your shoulder and you both stay like that for a long while, resting against each other, breathing. You sigh, shuddering and low and content, and he leans back to look at you, his expression open and sincere and it’s the most vulnerable you’ve seen him in awhile. 

“I’ll try to come home earlier.” 

You know that he’ll try. You also know that it doesn’t matter. 

You’re not going to dwell on it. 

“I don’t know if you should. This visit was fun.” You grin, exhausted but happy and glad to be near him, glad that’s happy, and if anything at least he’s here - in this building where he’s less likely to get hurt, less likely to do anything other than listen to conversations and go through paperwork. 

‘Yeah, until we get caught,” he agrees before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You hum in agreement, then start to giggle. You’ll go home with him tonight in one piece. That’s all you can ask. 

“Then it’ll really be like when we were dating.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 7

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Your body is stiff. You blame your late-night drawing session hunched over the folding table. You feel it in your neck and shoulder. You sit up and groan, rubbing your muscles as you try to loosen the knots. You roll your arms as you stand up, yawning as you rub your eyes. 

A dewy breeze flows in. The air feels like rain but the density has yet to break. You remember vaguely in the middle of the night cracking the window to cool off, your room stagnant and stale. 

You near the window in your baggy shirt, dampened slightly with your sweat. It’s caught under your chest as you bulge against the fabric. You pull it free as you stand in front of the pane and blanch as you see movement on the other side. Shoot. 

Your eyes meet Steve’s as he closes the window across from yours. He can feel the approaching storm too. He smiles and gives a two-fingered wave. You lift your hand weakly, barely extending your fingers before you tug shut the curtains. How much did he see? How much could he see? 

You go out to get the day started. The overhead light of kitchen blares yellow across the space and you put the coffee pot on to brew. As you wait, you tidy the table, once more cluttered with your mother’s forgotten distractions. The crossword book, several pens, a home magazine, and several wrappers. 

You slow the pour of coffee into your mug as you hear your mom’s bedroom door. You stare at the doorway until she appears. She limps to the table and sits heavily. You put the cup before her and grab another for yourself. She mutters and leans her head in her hand. She was home late last night. 

You go to grab her inhaler from the bathroom. Once more, it’s missing. You return and find it on the counter hidden beside a used plate. It's only then you notice the blackened frozen fries on the cookie sheet. What the heck? 

“Ugh, that man,” she croaks, letting it roll into a laugh, “he convinced me to have a little wine after the milkshake.” You put her inhaler in front of her. She raises her head and scowls. She rubs the furrow between her brows. “And then another. And another.” 

You don’t even remember her getting home. You were up until one in the morning drawing. She must have been much later. How hadn’t you heard her make all this mess? 

You sip your coffee around cleaning up. You wash the glass from the milkshake Steve brought over and set it aside. Your mother hacks and clears her throat. 

“Mm, he’s too nice,” she mutters, “told him you didn’t need that. Too much sugar. You don’t even like strawberry.” 

You hide your frown. You like strawberry. You’re not sure why she thinks otherwise. She’s never really asked. 

“I’ll bring the glass back--” 

“You remember your manners,” she girds before she hums into her coffee cup. She gulps through her wet lips noisily. “I don’t need you ruining this.” 

“I will, mom.” 

“Ugh,” she stands up with a groan, “I need my chair.” 

Her hand trembles and the cup with it. She spills a little over the sides but doesn’t pay attention to it. You dump the tray of burnt fries and put it in the sink. You just cleaned this place top to bottom. You don’t think you’re that messy but it’s always a disaster. 

You clean the rest of the dishes and put them away. Your mom hollers for more coffee and you bring the pot with you to refill her cup. She leans it on her chest and closes her eyes. 

“I’m going to take the glass back now, I guess.” 

“Mph, do whatever,” she utters irritably. 

You trod back to your room and change into real clothes; straight-legged jeans and a stripped jersey tee. You just want to get this over with. It’s so awkward. You would rather your mom just take it back the next time she goes over but she’s in rough shape. It must be the alcohol. She’s not really supposed to have any. 

You grab the glass and put on your shoes. As you come out, there’s a speckling of rain falling from the sky. You go up the walk and around the sidewalk, coming back down the pavement squares to Steve’s porch. You stop and look up at his front door. You climb the steps and drag your feet to the door. 

You tap the bell. It’s one of those ones with the camera built-in. You feel overly conscious as you stand before the lens. The door opens before you can prepare yourself. 

“Hey, sweetie,” Steve greets, “how are you?” 

“Erm. Okay. Here.” 

You hold out the glass. He doesn’t take it. He leans on the doorframe and smile. 

“Crummy day, huh? Supposed to thunderstorm soon,” he comments, “too bad, I was really wanting to get that pool going.” 

“Mm, yeah,” you keep the glass raised before you. 

“Oh well, guess I’ll have to figure out what to do all pent up. Maybe a movie night? With all this moving, I’m way behind.” 

You look at his chest, staring at the short-sleeved button up with chagrin. What is he talking about? Why is he talking so much? 

“You got any suggestions? You youngins always know what’s hip,” he shakes his head and laughs, “sorry, I sound old, don’t I?” 

“No,” you answer dully. 

“No what? No suggestions or no I don’t sound old?” He challenges. 

Your eyes go round and you look him in the face. “I don’t know.” 

“I’m teasing--” 

“Here,” you wiggle the glass at him. 

He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours. You let it go and recoil. You bare your teeth strangely and back away, “thanks, er. Bye.” 

You turn and cringe at the grey sky. You trudge off the porch and cut across the lawn, too mortified not to trod over his grass. You clamber up the front steps and quickly shut yourself inside the house. You hiss at yourself as you press your back to the door. 

“Don’t slam the goddamn door,” your mother sneers, “Jesus. No wonder this place is falling apart.” 

🏠

It’s one of those days where you’re just sad. You can’t pinpoint why. It’s just a vague malaise that won’t leave. Even as the sun beams and deepens to a soft evening hue, you can’t see a light among the dark. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been like that. Under your covers, crying for no good reason. It just hurts to be. You keep your arm folded over your pounding head. You just want to sleep and yet you can’t cross the barrier into unconscious. 

You give up and roll onto your back, pulling the blanket to your waist. You exhale and stare up at the ceiling. You’re head swims from the deluge of tears. You sop them up with the sheet and sit up. Your head is full and throbbing. 

You get up, bleary-eyed, and muddle your way through reality. You pull open your door and find the bathroom on instinct alone. You shut yourself in and blow your nose. The effort has you even more dizzy. You shake your head, trying to clear out the fog, and turn on the cold water. You throw it across your face, holding a wet palm to your forehead to try to ease the tension. 

Your ears tickle with a strange noise. A low drone. Like bass on the front television. Now and again, your mom will amp up the TV but it’s unexpectedly loud. You twist off the faucet and stand straight. You dry off and head back into the hall, peering down at the shifting light glaring from the living room doorway. 

“Woahhh,” the voice catches you unaware as someone collides with you from behind in the dim hallway. You stumble and turn to face Steve as popcorn scatters onto the floor, tumbling over the brim of the bowl. The smell tugs at your stomach, “sorry sweetie, I didn’t see you there.” 

You look at his silhouette, unable to make out any of his features. You didn’t even know he was there. Your mother didn’t even warn you. You suspect that may have been purposeful. 

“Sweetie?” 

“Sorry,” you back up, “didn’t mean... to get in the way.” 

You turn and shuffle back to your room. He follows, “your mom said you weren’t feeling good. Hope you get better soon, but if you’re interested, we’re watching a movie.” 

Your bedroom door is wide open. If you’d known, you would’ve been sure to shut it tight. 

“No, thank you,” you grab the handle and slowly shift the door behind you. 

“No problem,” he calls after you, “offer stands if you change your mind.” 

You click the door shut gently and stay on the other side, listening for his footsteps. He lingers, a bit too long, and it’s only as he walks away that you go back to your bed. There’s something strange about him. Or maybe it’s just you.