#lemme know if you want anything else from this scanned

[in-death-we-fall]

Slipknot

The Tightest Knots Never Fray

Metal Edge 48-11, March 2003

By Roger Lotring

(google drive link) Murderdolls interview here – Stone Sour interview here

“Someone has to bring down the whore, dude,” says Shawn Crahan, determinedly addressing the soulless gluttony that has devoured integrity from contemporary music. “I’ve been all over the place,” he admits, readily likening his foregone ranting as being “almost schizophrenic, man.” But for #6—the Clown percussionist of Slipknot—the corporate impurity that desecrates his sacred rock ‘n’ roll art form pits him as the proverbial David in the face of a Goliath. “People always say Clown’s a fuckin’ retard genius,” he exhilarates. “And I say, ‘You’re right.’ I’ve taken an oath, spilled a lot of blood, and I’m part of an organization that is going to do nothing but bring down the pig.”

The challenge of Disasterpieces is the first of the slings and arrows. A turbulently intense package, the very first Slipknot DVD is largely centered around a February 2002 live performance filmed at the London Arena. A fast-paced style of editing moves conjunctively with 5.1 surround sound to overwhelm both the aural and visual senses, making for an extreme Slipknot experience. An accompanying second disc features a video history of the band, including the banned clip for “Spit It Out,” plus a previously unreleased animated version of “Wait And Bleed.” Enhanced bonus material and an exclusive audio track—”Purity”—make this DVD the gauntlet of a challenge to sedentary bands reigning over hard rock popularity. “I’ve kind of made the DVD like, ‘Look, if you’re not this good, and you don’t know what the fuck’s going on, why don’t you quit and do us all a favor?’” Moreover, Disasterpieces is an architectural draft by which metal fans can judge what to expect from their music. Nothing less will suffice anymore in a landscape of media saturated mediocrity.

“It’s the cattle thing,” Clown defines, a cultural popularity branded by lethargy. “If you’re not at the back of the pack, something in life forced you to be at the front,” he says, intimating music fans as an order of natural selection. “There’s probably a chance for everyone, but it means we’re going to have to go, ‘Hey, you guys at the back of the pack, they’re going to eat you, do you understand?’” It’s what he calls an education. “That’s what Disasterpieces is,” he says by comparison, something by which metal fans can decipher the natural order of musical innovation.

Metal Edge sat down on a Saturday afternoon for an intense conversation with Clown about Disasterpieces, as well as his perspective on the Stone Sour and Murderdolls branches of the Slipknot family tree. “I used to talk about unity and pushing forward,” he concedes, noting that, “I think Slipknot did that to the point that we don’t need to anymore. Now, it’s obvious all of us are looking for our insides. We are trying to evolve Slipknot. All of us need to fuckin’ find some stuff for ourselves,” he explains, assuring diehard Slipknot fans that “they ain’t got nothing to worry about. Let the Maggots know it’s all coming for ‘em. We’re not getting older, we’re getting better.”

METAL EDGE: Is the Disasterpieces DVD meant as a means of focusing attention on Slipknot in the interim before a new album? SHAWN CRAHAN: Most people in the world have to realize that we, the band, have been doing this for seven years. We’ve been doing it professionally, nonstop, for four years. We just got to the point where we understand what home is. So, everybody’s kind of doing their own thing right now—which is totally cool with everybody in the band—because we need time. The third album is coming, right around the corner, and we know it’s going to be different. No one has to be worried about anything drastically changing, ‘cause we’re pretty focused on what we need to be. However, the third one, I think it’s gonna be a really crazy, weird, all-out war. Every member is gonna bring who he is to the table, with all the experience he’s downloaded for the last seven years. This DVD was never intended to let people know that we were alright or whatever. It’ll run its course for two or three months, and we’re starting to write the new album in January—not all of us, but people are gonna fall into place as need be. But, like I said, man, this new album’s gonna be completely insane, as far as I’m concerned.

ME: Would it be fair to say that this DVD almost closes a chapter of Slipknot? SC: I’ve been getting into a lot of trouble lately, because I’ve been telling people that it ends an era. And I don't care what anyone says about it, it ends an era. I’m not interested—the Clown is not interested—in using goats anymore. I’m not interested in half the shit that’s on our stage. Have I talked about this with everyone else? No. But I do a lot of that stuff, and I’m just not interested in the Iowa show no more. I mean, I’m done, I’m bored, and it’s over with. The DVD captured it as best as we could. There were over ten thousand people, over twenty-one cameras, and it was just pure mayhem. You got the most of the show that we could do, that we did for Iowa for over a year.

ME: But isn’t that the point? Why continue doing the Iowa show? It wasn’t meant to be forever, it was meant to be that album. SC: Right, I think people just think that we’re breaking up, or something stupid like that. But no, it’s absolutely the end of an era, get fucking used to it! People change. Fourteen-year-old fans that were there [when] we came out, they’re eighteen now. We’re changing, too, and if no one likes it, fuck off.

ME: You mentioned that this project consisted of a multiple camera shoot, comprising a double DVD. When the idea was first conceived, was it readily apparent that it was going to be so intensive? SC: I knew what was going to happen. I came up with the idea of so many cameras, and the reason was, before, we had only a couple that would film the band. I would just pretty much almost shoot myself, every time we got something in, ‘cause I was so disappointed. Great, you got footage of Sid jumping in the crowd, but what about Joey’s excellent footwork? Where’s all the angles? So, I knew we were going to have a monster. They were talking about one disc, but I knew it would be literally impossible. There’s over four thousand edits in the show itself, and that just takes a lot of information for a computer to recognize.

ME: But with a band like Slipknot, and what it does onstage, you almost have to do it the way Disasterpieces was done, because if you’re at the show, visually, there’s so much going on. SC: That’s how I edited the whole thing with Phil [Richardson]. We edited it like we were in the front row. The reason why I was so excited about being able to do this project was, just like you said, yes, it moves very fast. But how is it moving? Is it moving out-of-control, or is it literally going Clown… Chris… joey… Mick… Sid… Paul… Jim… Mick… Clown… Sid—Ya’ know what I mean? That’s what it’s doing. You’re literally getting to see the chaos as it’s being done. Yeah, it moves very quick, but so does Slipknot. [Laughing] This is for kids to identify with what the fuck exactly goes on at a Slipknot show—Who starts what, who’s playing where, and what they’re doing while they’re doing it. This is all about cues, and the only way to do it right is to do it quickly. Plus, I don’t make anything for the weak, dude. I am here to cleanse the weak away from the idea known as Slipknot. I only want people that understand, because after they take it all in, they’re teachers. And they’ll go out and start molding the future. I’ve kind of made this DVD like, ‘Look, if you’re not this good, why don’t you quit now and do us all a favor?’ That’s how angry I am at the music scene. I understand music has to move, but I’ve never felt so sorry for people listening to music right now, ‘cause it’s fucking crap! Nu Metal? Garbage! It’s garbage, dude! It is! If you know you’re a nu metal band, you’re fucking garbage, end of story. This DVD is about real music, real players—there’s not one musical overdub in the whole thing. What you hear is what happened that night. The only thing that was done, I believe, was in the beginning of “Purity,” because the pyro blew up a couple of the mics. I don’t know any bands that can go through an hour-and-a-half of intensive, dead-on musicianship as we do. I pride myself very, very much to be honored in a band in such good company, ‘cause we’re all incredible musicians, and we make it fly.

ME: So it’s fair to say that this DVD is a challenge to any other band out there right now? If you can’t live up to this… SC: …If you can’t live up to this, why are you even bullshitting? I’ve been on tour with bands that suck. And I’m looking at 'em like, ‘You got a record deal? You’re getting a chance to change the world? Who signed you, some fuckin’ dork? Some idiot over at some big company that knows the formula?’ Man, they’re all losers, dude. Record people get a formula of something that works—Just take Slipknot, for example. Look at all the little fashion statements that have been started, because a band like Slipknot works. Most of the idiots that sign bands because of us are people that said no to Slipknot. I could call four people out from every label. The industry’s a fuckin’ joke, dude! I’m in rock ‘n’ roll, and I’ve never been so embarrassed to be a part of something in my entire life. But it doesn’t matter, dude, ‘cause Slipknot’s there. That’s what we stand for, and that’s what we break down.

ME: Isn’t that a cue, then, with your band being a leader within the rock genre, to throw a monkey wrench into it and make a total left turn? SC: I think so. I never sit here and intend to break the rules. I go, ‘This is the band I’m in.’ The whole time I was editing the DVD, I said, ‘Oh my God, I’m in that band! Yeah, I’m getting to design this, and the whole idea of the DVD is mine, but holy fuck, that’s me in the band! I’m in this band!’

ME: It’s a little surreal, isn’t it? SC: Oh, it’s completely surreal, man! I am so honored to be in the company of eight dudes that fuckin’ throw down. We throw down, man, and I’m proud of it. And I’m not gonna sit back like other people in the band—Everybody would be humble. I don’t care anymore! If your band isn’t this good, then you suck! I’m tired of all the political bullshit, all the bands making fun of us, talking shit. Well, guess what? All your bands suck. None of you could do what we do. I’ve watched all of you, and it doesn’t happen. You come short.

ME: It’s like the early days of KISS, when they would be ridiculed, and then blow other bands off the stage. Nobody would be laughing afterward. SC: We’re actually now managed by KISS’ manager. And we’ve talked a couple stories, ‘cause I play music because of KISS. That was my introduction to music. In the early stages, no one knew what they looked like, and people used to flip out. And I was thinking, goddamn, that sounds a lot like Slipknot!

ME: Watching Disasterpieces, everybody’s faces have been carefully obscured to preserve that mystique. But is the marketing necessity of Murderdolls and Stone Sour detrimental to Slipknot? Joey, Corey and Jim have all been unmasked. SC: I don’t know how to answer that, man. I love Joey, Corey and Jim—As I love everybody in the band. However, things have changed now, and they’re the only ones that have to live with that. And they’re the ones that have to be responsible for that. It is what it is, man, but I don’t think it matters. Joey and Corey and Jim have found another extension of themselves, okay, and I want to clear it up. Corey is a genius. He writes all the time, all day long. I got notebooks that he’s just left laying around, full of conceptual pieces. Some belong to Slipknot, some belong to Corey Taylor. There’s things he won’t even bring to Slipknot, because it’s not the ‘Knot. And no one knows that better than Corey. Think about what he did, man. I mean, he takes the mask off—You know how hard that was? And he did it, and he’s succeeding. And I say, good for him, because that’s what Slipknot stands for. Recently, I said we’re the biggest punk band in the world. I didn’t mean like we’re a punk band, [but] I mean we live the punk feeling. We’re the biggest metal band in the world, and I got three dudes trouncing around the world without masks, succeeding, okay? That’s exactly what Slipknot is.

ME: Meaning that Slipknot is at the point where it can fly in the face of convention and do whatever it likes. SC: I think what we’ve always preached, if we’ve preached anything, is to thyself be true. Don’t ever judge me, just let me do my fucking thing. We’re Slipknot. We stand up and teach kids to stand up! Fight for who you are! Be who you are, don’t worry about it. And now, my own members are like, ‘I gotta do this.’ They go up against all odds and break down all the fuckin’ walls. And they look everybody in the face with their real face, after relying on rubber masks for fucking years? People need to shut up. Fucking ignorance, man! I don’t care what any of ‘em say, we do what we want.

ME: Isn’t that the fundamental basis of being in rock ‘n’ roll to begin with? SC: Yeah! You got Slipknot, now you got the Murderdolls, you got Stone Sour—I will bet my left testicle, there will be other things. Who knows? Every member of the band might have its own entity, and then get together as Slipknot. Oh, some might suck, some might be good. But the point is, what do you do with your life? Most people that have an opinion, aren’t you just cattle being programmed with the imprint? I’m ready for this whole thing to change, man. I’m ready for the pictures in your magazine to change color; I’m ready for people to start talking about things they want, instead of their editors. I’m ready for bands to start telling the truth and lift the veil of rock ‘n’ roll, instead of all this bullshit.

ME: Have you listened to either the Stone Sour or Murderdolls albums yet? SC: Oh, yeah. I listened to the Murderdolls by myself—Joey gave me the copy. When we’re on the road, we’re both very, very busy, and we don’t have a lot of Shawn and Joe time. But Corey, when we were in Europe last time, we both happened to be up very early in the morning, and we were on a long drive. I got to listen to the whole Stone Sour album with Corey. Sitting there with the creator of it, somehow I understood all of it and knew where he was going. I even told him what his next single after “Bother” would be.

ME: Their exploration of musical direction will be invigorating when working on a new Slipknot album. That’s going to be the most positive effect on what the band comes up with, creatively. SC: Yeah. I would have used to have told you that I’d have my people take your head off with that explanation, but I agree with you now. I mean, dude, we’ve been going for four fucking years. Only now can I say thank you to the rest of the guys for allowing ourselves to be home and figure it out. And let me tell you, the three years before being signed—Pure hell. You want to see the evolvement of Slipknot? It took fuckin’ years. I used to wear a Barney outfit. One weekend, I’d be Barney, the next, I’d be a priest. Mick would be Little Bo Peep—Look at Mick, almost seven foot tall, in a Little Bo Peep outfit, slamming with a bonnet on.

ME: But that makes sense, because it wouldn’t have worked if it was something formulated. SC: No! I’ll be honest, man, I hurt some feelings when those guys did that. I hurt some serious feelings. I think people are still angry at me, ya’ know? And that’s cool. I don’t give a fuck. So what? [Laughing] But I take the responsibility of Slipknot hardcore, man. We gave these kids with nothing, something. They were the ones that were so far gone, they were like, I’m outta here, I’m gonna kill myself. Boom—Slipknot comes alone. I’ve had kids wear Slipknot shirts—you know how they are when they wear Slipknot shirts—it’s like a fucking army. They’ll wash it every day, to wear it every day. It lets other kids now (sic) what kind of kid they are. It’s a mentality. That kid is basically telling us where he’s at, by wearing that statement. That’s why I get so nuts, [and] why people are mad at me. Slipknot’s come to a point where—we know we’re a band, dude—but we’ve become icons of responsibility in the world we live in. I try to live my words, man. I try to be really, really responsible.

[lullxby]

niccolo bf headcannons, how would he be with his gf, particularly a shy girl :))

oh my gosh he’d be insufferable (but also the sweetest guy ever?)

i did this with a few headcanons and a short imagine cus i didn’t know what one you’d like! enjoy!! 🤍

- this boy would love to see you get all flustered from his compliments, or hide your face to not let him see how red it’s getting. - if you were diverting your eyes from him for whatever reason, he’d definitely make you look at him - ���lemme see that pretty face” - “c’mon ma, i don’t bite” - “unless you want me to” - all jokes aside, if someone were to talk over you when you were finally trying to speak your mind, he’d make sure you knew he was paying attention atleast. - “shut up and let her finish, yeah?” - he’s the only one allowed to tease you for how flustered you get - someone else goes “oooh she’s blushing, nicco, look whatcha do to her,” - he is pissed - “yeah? what about it?” he’d snap, knowing you wouldn’t want him to be too rude, but simultaneously not wanting you to be embarrassed - he’d def say some choice words to them later, regardless of if they were his friend or not 😊 - if you wanted him to, he’d order for you at a restaurant, or things of that sort

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you and niccolo were sat on his couch, with brando and vittorio sitting beside the two of you, chatting mindlessly about something trivial. you had your legs splayed over niccolo’s thighs, his hands holding them in place.

you were reading a book, one that he had gotten you a few days ago, his excuse being he had just saw it and remembered you wanting it. the reality had been that he had waited for it to be released, just to be able to purchase it for you as soon as it did.

either way, he’d never forget the way your face had lit up when he presented it to you. with your expression, it could’ve been guessed that he gave you some crazy expensive gift, rather than just a fifteen euro book.

the boys continued talking, though nicco’s gaze kept flashing back towards you, as if he couldn’t bare to draw his eyes away for longer than a couple minutes.

you finished the chapter you were on, putting a small slip of random paper in as a bookmark.

he turned towards you, noticing the look in your eyes. it was always like he could read you like the books you always had your nose stuck in.

brando and vitto turned the conversation to just be between the two of them, letting niccolo talk to you rather than them.

you started chatting about the book, slowly changing subjects into how your day was. he listened close, occasionally nodding you along so you felt more comfortable letting him know about all these things.

that was, until brando started tapping the boy’s shoulder, trying to get his attention. you stopped talking, wanting niccolo to be able to talk to his friends, not wanting him to feel obliged to listen to you ramble.

this made him suddenly frustrated. he could’ve dealt with the incessant hits against his shoulder. but now that you had stopped talking, now that he wasn’t able to listen to your sweet voice, he was upset.

“bro, ‘m right in the middle of a conversation here, fuck off,” nicco sassed towards his friend, causing him to hold his hands up defensively and turn back to vitto.

then, his voice softened as he looked back towards you, “go ahead, babe, ‘m listening,” he urged, his eyes scanning over your face.

you shrugged, “it’s fine, you can talk to your friends,” you assured, opening up your book again.

“c’mon, please,” he practically begged, just wanting to hear more about how you were doing. he disliked doing this in front of his friends, as he hated for people to see the softer side of him, especially people like vitto.

still, he’d do anything for you, and he’d do it a thousand times more.

“tell me more about the girl you saw in the halls. what was her name? ludo?”

it was as if a switch in you flipped, as you nodded at the mention of your friend, going into a more in depth story about the dark-haired girl.

you had no clue what was yet to come with her.

baby taglist: lmk if you’d like to be added!

divider by h-aewo!

[mcondance]

other side of the game; hobie brown

summary // hobie swings by when you’re cleaning your room, and you know exactly what he wants.

cw // dubcon-ish (you say stuff akin to no but like.. you want it. it’s just a game you n hobie play), they talk a lot of shit, missionary

extras // you and hobie r Black so i don't wanna hear anything abt the grammar i used! "it's supposed to be doesn't" kill yourself idc, the song has. nothing to do with what happens in this fic btw it just.. it makes sense when you read it and it helped me write

wc // 2.6k

song shoutouts // special thanks to other side of the game by erykah badu and i get lonely by janet jackson

signing off // thank you to poetnon for this idea i hope you like this <3

.

.

.

you know the second you hear the knocks at your window that you won't be getting anything else done today. he does this every fucking time.

walking across your room, you unlock the window for your boyfriend, eyes meeting his as you psyche yourself up for what you know is coming.

you return your attention to your desk, and with your back turned to him, you hear him slide his lanky body through the frame, landing softly on your carpeted floor.

"you busy?" he muses pointlessly, already shrugging his jacket off and reaching down to untie his boots. player one, ready?

"yeah," you hum pointlessly too, hands fiddling with the trinkets on your desk. maybe if you don't look at him, you won't cave. player two, ready?

"what you up to?" his voice grows closer. you close your eyes, breathing deep and slow to try to build your resolve, but you can hear him inching towards you, the clinging of his belts giving his movements away.

"cleanin' my room." you spin around, figuring you'd face your doom instead. his shoes are off now, placed up against the wall under your window. and now the game has started.

"mhm. well don't let me stop you," he smiles, and you wish you could say that it didn't put another dent in your already rusty resolve, but it does. with shaking hands crossed in front of you, you push yourself up and away from your desk and move across your room to your pile of clothes, folding shit hastily, already so fucking nervous.

he takes your place leaning against your desk and scans your room, taking in how much you’ve already gotten done. it makes him feel a little less bad about what he’s going to do. “looks good already. how long you been cleanin’?”

“since like, 10.”

“mhm. ‘s 2:24 now. think you’re ready for a break?” you snap your head towards him, rolling your eyes and screwing your lips up at the implications of his words.

“not the kinda break you’re talking about,” you sneer, rolling your eyes again as you return your focus to the meaningless pile of clothes.

“and what kinda break is that?”

“the kinda break when you end up inside me. i don’t have time for it.” you don’t face him as you speak. you can’t. if you do, it’s all over. you don’t want it to end just yet. it’s fun. it always is.

“what, you think ‘m just tryna get in your pants? i jus’ think my girl should have a little rest, yeah?” at his words you drop the shirt in your hand, switching gears to organize your nightstand instead.

“you’re lying. you always do this.”

“do what?”

“this. you come here and sweet talk me and the next thing i know i’m under you and my room doesn’t get cleaned. i’m not doing this today.”

he’s silent— your brain isn’t. you know it’s only a matter of time until he’s doing exactly what he’s doing now.. wrapping his slim fingers around your waist and pulling you back onto him.

speaking directly against your ear, he finally comes out with what he wants. “take a break, baby, lemme make you feel good." his lips meet your neck, ghosting over your heated skin.

"can't, hobes, i gotta clean up,” you whine, but it's futile at this point, cause you're already leaning back onto him, already tilting your neck to the side to give him more access, already dropping the half-empty water bottle in your hand.

"you sure, love? y'can clean up after we're done, hm? i'll help you.” he sounds earnest, like he really cares. you shake your head no, but you let him pull you away from your desk and turn you around. "gotta clean," you repeat, but you let him push you down onto your ruffled sheets.

"then clean." he’s standing over you now with his hands tucked into his pockets, and he motions towards the pile of clothes with his head, knowing eyes fixed on your frame sprawled out on your bed. from here, the light frames him perfectly, and he looks so damn pretty. maybe you'll blame what you do next on that. doesn't matter now, though. eyes meeting, you both know you're not getting up— seconds pass with you both staring, a silent confirmation, and hobie knows your answer.

shrugging, he leans down with his hands still in his pockets, placing a damning kiss on your lips, murmuring "gave you a chance, baby. knew you didn't give a fuck about cleanin'." and he's right, embarrassingly so, so you roll your eyes, channeling your faux-frustration into a rough kiss, curling your hands under the straps of his t-shirt.

he falls forward, hands flying from his pockets to balance himself on top of you. smiling against your lips, he speaks again, “see. . you want it. you’re desperate.”

his hips start to rock against yours, stacked belts clinging against your dangling legs. hands finding the side of his face, you huff at his irritating need to almost shame you, to show for some made-up record that no matter how much you turn him down, you want him. you need him.

so you push your hips against his, humming at the groan that flies from his lips. tapping your thigh, he ushers you up the bed, your bodies turning until your head is laid on your pillows.

he reaches down between you two, sliding your shorts to the side to rub his fingers against your already sloppy cunt, smiling when he feels and sees how wet you are. “cleaning my ass,” he jokes, kissing you before you can get upset again.

sliding his fingers up, he brushes the pads of them over your sensitive clit, swallowing the pretty moans that start to flow from your spit-slicked lips. hobie knows you like the back of his hand, knows just how much pressure you need, how tight his circles have to be, knows how to make you cum hard, and cum fast.

it’s always like this when he comes by with the goal to distract you— you always end up under him with whatever you have on pushed hastily to the side, fully clothed and his hand between your legs, shaking arms wrapped around his neck. it’s desperate, really, both your need to get off.

though you try to remain steadfast, try to act like you don’t want this, the way your hips move against his hand gives you away. “did all that sayin’ ‘no’, bu’ look.” he points his eyes down, towards where his hand is hovering above your cunt, fingers glistening.

“‘course ‘m wet, don’t mean shit.”

“it don’t? that’s wild, love,” he slides two fingers in without warning and presses his thumb against your clit before he starts his circles again, other hand moving to hold you in place when you thrash against him, “cause last time i had t’almost beg. ‘n the time before that, i did beg.”

you know what he’s trying to say, and it makes heat rise in your face and makes your eyes close, cause you can’t face him. no matter, though, cause he grabs your face, spits, “open your eyes. look a’me.”

you open your eyes and meet his low ones, ones that are always black with lust, ones that bore straight through you and make you feel so small and dirty underneath their gaze. he nods at your obedience, and then his fingers catch that spot inside you, and the licks of flame inside you morph into something like a fire, lighting you up with pleasure. you’re close, so close.

“you’re gettin’ easier, baby. act all you want, you’re desperate.” that sends you over the edge, and it’s embarrassing. it’s filthy, how he just has to talk to you a little mean and you’re cumming on his fingers, shaking as you choked out sobs of his name, like you weren’t just telling him to leave you alone 10 minutes ago.

before you even come down he’s kissing you, pulling your shirt up to free your tits.

"fuck you." you spew as you separate, but you still pull him closer, position him where his clothed dick rubs right against your cunt, kept away by the fabric of his sweats and your shorts that have almost rolled back into place.

"you will, in a second," he bites back, a wicked smile plastered across his ethereal features— features that are driving you fucking insane.

you’ve grown sick of his mouth— fisting his hair, you yank hard, drawing a pained moan from him and another drag of his cock against you. “you keep talking all this shit, but you’re the one who came up to my window looking for some ass. i don’t wanna hear it.”

“yeah? and you’re the one who kept going on about havin’ to clean your room, but i got you in bed so easy. we’re both fucked.”

and it’s true. the statement grounds both of you, and you both realize just where you are— inches apart, seconds away from what you both want. snapping out of it at the same time, your hands tangle together as you reach for each other’s bottoms, you freeing his pretty dick and him ripping your shorts right down the middle.

you laugh at his haste, his deep chuckles mixing with your giggles, foreheads meeting as you both calm down after your frenzy.

“‘m sorry. still forget how strong i am.”

“‘s fine. just fuck me already.”

“ehhh,” hand around his cock, sliding his tip up and down your waiting cunt, he teases once more, “y’sure you don’ wanna clean? room’s still a bit messy.”

“hobie, i swear to god, if you do not put it in me now i will pin you down and take it.” reading your eyes, he can tell you’re dead serious.

“‘s much as i’d love that,” he slides in with a pretty groan, and you wrap your arms around his neck with a throaty whine, “i want you like this.” pushing his hips up, he seats himself inside you.

breathing heavy, you both just take a second to calm down, to bask in the feeling of being intertwined with your lover again, no matter how annoying they can be. with closed eyes, you throw your head back, resting on your pillows. hobie takes that as a sign to spread kisses down your jaw, grinning when you smile.

“move,” you breathe, shifting your hips to give him better access.

that first stroke always drives you both crazy. the slow pull out, faces contorting in pleasure, bodies getting closer and closer until the next best thing is merging together again, you pushing down and him pushing up and then his cock takes its rightful place inside you, sensitive tip leaking against your cervix.

“‘m all the way in, love, can feel the end of you,” he murmurs against your neck, and you nod, curling your arms tighter around his neck. then, he just grinds, circles his hips, just barely pulling out.

it’s perfect, the way your bodies move against each other, giving and receiving pleasure at the end of the game you both love playing. with fluttery glides and soft slides, and pitchy whines and deep groans, you dunk yourselves into that familiar pool of feeling, let it fill up your noses and mouths until it’s spilling over, your bodies shaking and jerking against each other.

blissed out of your fucking minds, your lips meet the others, lazy connects of your lips that you can just barely call kisses. they’re slack-jawed and sloppy, spit-swapping, the lewd smacks filling the air, mixing with the harmony of fucked-out sounds.

slowly, hobie starts moving his hips around differently, on a mission now, one that has you tensing up, cause it never takes him long to find it, that sweet spot that has you—

“fuck,” you drawl, throwing your head back, and hobie just smiles and keeps his hips moving that way, keeps his cock kissing that same spot.

"that's it?" he hums.

when you try to articulate what you're feeling, try to tell him "yeah", the words never come. instead, he's raising up to spread your legs and balancing himself above you, switching from slow grinds to deep thrusts that have him pressing against that spot even more now.

now, with him slapping his hips against yours and his thumb on your clit, the sound fills the room, skin against skin. jolting against him, his eyes are still trained on yours, fixed on the furrow of your eyebrows and the o-shape your lips make, focused on how pretty you look when he fucks you.

your choppy moans fill his ears, the background to his barrage of words that fill yours. sentences about how pretty you look, how good you feel, how he just wants to fuck you forever, and then for the second time without warning, you cum again, right when he says something about wanting to keep you fucked and filled, "'s why i keep comin' over, cause i wan' you full of me all the time."

it's gentle, this time, streams of feeling flowing softly through you. hobie makes sure to keep his pace steady through it all, makes sure he prolongs it as long as he can.

when you come down, you're pushing up on his hips with shaking hands, nodding your head and telling him to move. he doesn't waste a second, lifts up and grabs your headboard with one hand to give himself some leverage, his other hand resting on your calf. this time around, he's forgotten all that slow shit.

he rocks his hips hard and fast, jolting you up, and your back rubs against your sheets, your hands fly to your thighs to ground yourself.

"keep 'em open," he slurs, eyes fixed on where he disappears inside you, on the way you cream on his cock, his pretty dick painted white. "watch," he tells you, "she swallow me up so nice." his tone is awe-filled, brown eyes lit up at the visual of you taking him so well.

your eyes roll back in your head, another wave of arousal overtaking you and you can't watch any longer or you'll go crazy, so you watch his face instead. watch his pretty fucking face contort in pleasure, watching his eyebrow piercings dance in the light, watch his sharp jaw clench when you clench around him.

and god, it’s building up again. how could have ever even thought you’d clean up today, when this is so much better. “you gonna cum?” he asks, cause he knows your tells better than you do. you nod shakily, hands gripping onto your thighs so hard you swear you feel your fingers going numb.

“then do it.” it’s an order, really, and you know what he means. hand flying to your clit, you rub messy circles, and hobie moves his hand from your calf to your thigh to keep you open for him. nodding with wild eyes, he watches you make yourself cum, watches your circles became sloppy side-to-side motions while you whine and almost fucking cry, watches your cunt clamp down on him and suck him in “like she don’t wanna let go.”

through the mind-fuck in your head, you hear him groan loud, and then he’s cumming too, gripping your headboard so hard you swear you hear a soft crack, but fuck the headboard, cause hobie looks so pretty when he cums that it don’t even matter.

laughing, blissed out of your minds, hobie lays down on top of you, breathing hard and sweaty as shit, just like you are.

“i really did need to clean my room though, hobie.” you hum, turning your head to face him.

“i wasn’t just tryin’ to get in your pants, love, i was serious about helpin’,” he mumbles against your neck. and he does help. by the time he’s sliding back through your window and kissing you goodbye, your room is perfect.

[miyacults]

begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please

a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.

violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.

( ft. suguru geto. )

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

< part one.

wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)

cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~

From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.

It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.

White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.

Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.

But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.

“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.

“I took care of the scum,”

“And didn’t invite?”

Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.

“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”

There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.

“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”

How couldn’t he after what he did to you?

The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.

Until it wasn’t.

That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them—Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.

He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.

Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.

Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.

Like they have devoted themselves to do.

Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.

He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.

He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.

He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.

He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.

He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.

He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.

But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.

Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

“Sugu?”

He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”

Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.

Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.

If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.

But Suguru is different, he thinks.

“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”

“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”

Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.

“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”

“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”

Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.

And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.

“So needy, my baby is so needy,”

“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.

“Do you want Daddy?”

“Yeah, I do,” you snort.

“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”

“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.

He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.

“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.

“How mean, ‘Toru.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mean. You’re lying to me.”

Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.

And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.

“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”

“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”

But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.

And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.

Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.

“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”

You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.

“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”

Suguru nods.

“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”

Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.

“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”

You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.

“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”

“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”

You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.

“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.

“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”

The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.

Maybe you can.

“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.

“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”

It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.

“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.

“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”

You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”

“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.

And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.

“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”

“Shh, princess,”

Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.

You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.

“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”

“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.

“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”

“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.

“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.

Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.

“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”

[jobean12-blog]

Bedtime Story

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 739

Summary: Bucky wants to read some of your book befored bed. 

Author’s Note: This was just a silly idea that popped into my head because the other night my husband was like, “hey whatcha readin’?” lol so here we are! This is also for the @the-slumberparty May challenge- the prompt I used in bolded in the story. Thank you darlings🥰 for keeping the inspo coming! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: fluffy and flirty fun, i-m-pli-ed o-r-a-l 

You snuggle yourself deeper into the pillows and focus on the romance on your e-reader.

“What are you reading doll face?”

“Huh?” you jump, nearly dropping the device.

Bucky stands over the bed, his arms crossed over his broad chest and a grin on his face. You never even heard him leave the bathroom.

“Whatever it is, you’re completely captivated.”

You smirk at him.

“A book.”

He pulls off his tee shirt and rounds the bed, never taking his eyes off you. Your gaze drops to his bare chest and the shining silver of his dog tags nestled against his skin.

“Another romance?”

You nod.

He slides into bed beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulder to draw you close. All the while he looks curiously down at the page brightened on the screen.

“Well, lemme see doll.”

You bite your lip over thoughts on what he’s about to read and hold the e-reader up to him. You watch his eyebrows raise as he continues to scan the page, his hand sliding from your upper arm to around your waist.

His grip tightens as his eyes move over the words.

“What do you think?” you ask.

He answers while he’s still reading, his voice gruff.

“Fuck doll…it’s…”

“Hot?” you supply.

His eyes meet yours, the corner of his mouth twitching with a lopsided smirk.

“Yeah. Is this how you get your kicks when I’m away.”

You narrow your eyes and pull the e-reader away from him.

“The story is actually good you know. Not all romance novels are full smut and nothing else!”

“Oh, really?” he teases. “Because all I read was about cock this and cock that and…”

“BUCKY!” you admonish.

His eyes are crinkled at the edges with his wide grin and you elbow him in the chest.

“Oof,” he grunts. “What was that for!?”

“Really!” you answer. “They’re romantic and relatable and emotional!”

When he doesn’t say anything you keep going. “I love when the connection between the characters is deep, it makes the sex extra hot.”

At that, his forehead furrows and he glances back down at the screen. You can see the muscle in his jaw tick and you trace your fingertips over the stubble lining his cheek.

You press yourself closer and whisper near his ear, “but nothing compares to the real thing with you.”

“But does reading about it turn you on doll?”

His gaze drops to your mouth and he slips his hand between your legs, his metal fingers cool against your heated skin.

“Are you wet?”

You shiver at the touch of his fingers sliding higher. When he pushes your panties to the side, his features harden with desire.

“That would be a yes.”

You arch into him, the e-reader falling from your fingers as he groans and rolls his hips.

He scatters kisses down your throat, toying with the straps of your tank before slowly sliding one off your shoulder, his mouth following the same path.

Your fingers dance along his chest and you wrap them around the chain of his dog tags before giving it a tug and dragging his lips down to yours. The kiss turns desperate and his hands roam over your body, tracing your curves before he grips your ass and urges you closer.

“Doll,” he hums, his hand slipping down the back of your thigh to hike your leg up and over his hip.

Long, strong fingers caress your skin, desperate to be everywhere all at once.

“We’re gonna have to act out,” he starts, his breath warm against your skin, “every scene in every book you have.”

Your fingers slide through his hair before your nails scrape down the back of his neck, wanting his mouth again.

“Bucky,” you plea, pulling at his sweats.

“But I’m gonna show you how much better I am every damn time.”

“No one’s better than you Bucky.”

You can feel his smile and when his mouth hovers just above yours, opening to speak, you press a finger to his lips and grind yourself over him.

“Is that a hint to stop talkin’ doll?” he asks with a grin.

You nod and drag his pants down over his ass before giving it a firm squeeze.

He maneuvers your entwined bodies so he’s lying on his back, his eyes brimming with heat when he murmurs, “come sit on my face if you want to shut me up.”

@book-dragon-13 @sstan-hoe @goldylions @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @lookiamtrying @flordeamatista @loki-laufeyson-1054 @seitmai @buckysdollforlife​ @late-to-the-party-81​ @blackwidownat2814​

[tikosblogg]

The purge…

Summary: The purge. A night full of legalized anarchy. A societal experiment gone horribly wrong. Once a year, for twelve hours, all crime becomes legal, a sanctioned release valve for the darkest desires of mankind. The streets transform into a battleground of chaos, where the weak become prey, and law is reduced to a meaningless whisper in the wind. @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning 💜

Warning: ⚠️ 18+ mentions of CRIME, MURDER, little bit of BLOOD. Mention of a KNIFE, GUNS, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex (plz don’t do that) I think that’s it, lemme know if I need to add anything.

A/N: FUCK the haters….thats all. If you don’t like it, go cry somewhere else.

Noah stood in the living room of his L.A. townhouse, surrounded by his friends—Jolly, Folio, Nicholas, and Matt—as they fortified their makeshift sanctuary. The news had broken just a week ago, the Prime Minister’s voice echoing across airwaves, officially sanctioning a night of anarchy. The so-called "Purge" was to commence at 10 p.m. tonight, and he felt a cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Noah, we need to barricade that window better,” Folio urged, nodding toward the house’s fractured glass. Noah grunted, clenching his fists, his tattooed arms rippling with tension. “Ok.”

His thoughts drifted to y/n, his best friend since childhood. She had moved to San Francisco a year ago, chasing dreams of her own. The last time they spoke, everything felt normal. He had purposefully refrained from telling her about the impending chaos, not wanting to burden her with fears that now clawed at his heart. Instead, they planned to see each other soon, and now… This godforsaken night loomed large with unknown terrors. As the clock counted down, his resolve weakened.

You rushed through LAX, suitcase in tow, your heart racing with excitement. You had decided on a whim to surprise Noah for the weekend. It had been too long since you saw each other, and this precious moment was supposed to rekindle your friendship. As you navigated through the bustling crowd, an alarming sense of urgency swept the airport.

People were screaming, some crying, and others rushing toward the exits. Crowds seemed insurmountable, and the clock ticked menacingly toward 10 p.m. “Where are all the damn cabs?” You muttered, scanning the chaos. It felt as though the world outside had distorted into a surreal nightmare. You finally decided, against your better judgment, to trek two miles to the nearest bus station.

Crossing the now eerily quiet streets, you glanced at the houses. Something felt off. People peeked out through the curtains, eyes wide yet lifeless, like ghosts. Ignoring the isolated chill that swept over you, you pressed on.

When you arrived at the bus stop, your spirits sank further. A hooded figure occupied the bench, a menacing silhouette against the dimming light. As you sat down, adrenaline pumped through your veins. You noticed the figure’s heavy breathing and turned just in time to meet a hollow gaze from behind a white mask, its eyes and mouth outlined in glaring neon. A large knife secured tightly in his hand.

You gasped, your body reacting before your mind even registered the danger. Panic surged as you leaped to your feet, your suitcase clattering to the ground. The figure sprang into action, knife glinting as it sliced through the air.

His heart raced as he felt the looming threat tighten around him. The countdown struck 10. The Purge had officially started, and the world outside was now a canvas for human depravity. His phone vibrated, notifications flooded his screen—a string of reports about violence breaking out on the streets.

“Remember, we don’t engage,” he reminded his friends as they holed themselves up. But the intense need to talk to you clawed at him. He sent you messages, one after another, but silence echoed back. His instinct pricked with fear.

As minutes turned into endless seconds, a loud bang echoed through the quiet night. He glanced at Matt, who nodded apprehensively. “Lock and load. We stick together.”

You charged through unfamiliar backyards, desperation heightening every intuitive reflex you had. The hooded figure pounded behind you like a relentless pursuing shadow. You stumbled onto a lawn and struck a futile plea at the front door of a house—“Help me Please!” The home owners peering out their barred in windows, sadness in their eyes.

Closing in on you, the figure yanked you back as you screamed slamming you against the front door. You sobbed in fear and confusion. Why is nobody helping? The knife glided down your cheek, slicing it. A surge of primal instinct kicked in: you struck out, hitting him in the groin.

The man topples over with a groan, as you make a run for it again. You run through multiple peoples yards, passing house after house sobbing. You don’t understand what is happening. You finally come to a stop, hiding behind one of the houses in the neighborhood. You look around, the neighborhood seemingly familiar. Noah lives on the next street over. You gasp covering your mouth, as the hooded man walks down the side walk tauntingly whistling for you.

You stay silent hoping he gives up and walks away. You were almost in the clear until your phone rang out, its ringtone slicing through the tension. The figure paused, turning toward you. You sprinted, lungs burning, as you finally caught sight of a familiar street. Noah! You can make it.

Noah tensed when he heard a distant scream, a heart-wrenching reminder that this was actually real. He hesitated before finally taking a peek out of the barred window. His eyes in utter disbelief at what they were seeing.

You reached Noah’s front yard just as sheer terror felled you. You felt the ground beneath you, a weight pressing down as the hooded figure tackled you, pinning you. His knife rose slowly, ready to enact a brutal act. You thrashed and sobbed, eyes squeezed shut waiting to meet your dreaded fate.

Suddenly, the air exploded, a gunshot ringing out. The weight on top of you lifted as the figure collapsed, knife slipping from his grip. Noah appeared, rushing to your side. “Y/n Oh my god!” He swept you into his arms before you could breathe, hauling you inside as the guys locked the door behind you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!” His voice trembled, his gaze sweeping over your disheveled state and the blood drawing down your cheek. “I wanted to surprise you, but…” your words tumbled out in a rush as your body shook, “He… He chased me, and….”

He pulled away, an intensity in his eyes that both calmed and ignited a fierce instinct as he shushed you. “You’re safe now. I promise. But we need to secure the house.”

As they set to fortifying the house, you found solace in the familiarity of Noah’s presence. Though the night was haunted by terrors. After making sure everything was secured, everyone checked in on you before they scattered to their own respective rooms. Noah grabbed your hand, leading up the stairs to his. He grabbed you a shirt to change into, letting you crawl into the comfort of his bed. He leaned in placing a kiss to your head, before standing back up.

Your hand caught his shirt before he could move any further. “Don’t leave me.” You whispered. He softly smiled before shaking his head. “Never. I just need to get changed.” You nodded softly, allowing him to do so. He finally walked back over, climbing into bed with you. You turned over, as he pulled you back into his chest, holding you tight as the distant sound of chaos lingered beyond their secured walls.

“Please tell me what’s happening Noah.” You whispered, voice still shaking. He kissed the back of your head, gripping your smaller hand in his. You pulled them up to your chest, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I’ll tell you everything in the morning… it’ll be over by then.” He spoke, his voice low. Even more confusion filled your mind, as you snuggled in attempting to get some sleep.

But the peace is short-lived. A nightmare rips you from your sleep, your scream piercing the quiet room. You jolt upright, your heart pounding, and find Noah's eyes already open, alert and concerned.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispers, his hands grasping your shoulders. "You're safe, I'm here baby." His dark eyes, hold yours, anchoring you back to reality. You take a shaky breath, your chest heaving as you try to regain control. "I-I'm sorry, I just..." Your voice cracks, the memory of the dream still vivid.

"Shh... it's okay. Just tell me what you need," he says, his voice steady and reassuring. You bite your lip, a mix of so many feelings overwhelming your body and nervousness flitting across your face. "I... I just want to forget, please make me forget.” You whined, looking away shyly.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead, then your cheek, and finally capturing your lips in a tender kiss. His mouth is warm and inviting, and you melt into him, your lips parting in silent invitation. His tongue slides against yours, a slow, sensual dance that ignites a fire within you.

As the kiss deepens, his hands begin to wander, tracing the curves of your body now covered by his shirt. He lifts the hem, his fingers skimming the bare skin of your thighs, sending shivers through your core. His touch is electric, awakening every nerve ending in your body.

He breaks the kiss, his breath ragged as he gazes into your eyes. "I’ll make you forget baby…just focus on me." His voice is a husky whisper, his desire evident in his intense stare.

You nod, your breath coming in short gasps. He leans back, his hands guiding your body until you're lying on your back, the soft sheets caressing your skin. He stands, his muscular frame towering over you, and slowly peels off his shirt, revealing a chest covered in intricate tattoos.

Your eyes devour his body, tracing the lines of ink that tell a story of his past. He steps out of his pants, leaving him completely exposed, his dick already straining towards you. You feel a rush of desire, your body responding to his raw masculinity.

He joins you back on the bed, his lips finding yours once more, while his hands roam freely, exploring every inch of your body. His fingers tease your nipples through the fabric of his shirt, making you arch into his touch. He pulls the shirt up, baring your breasts, and takes one tight peak into his mouth, sucking gently.

A moan escapes your lips as he alternates between teasing your nipples with his tongue and teeth. His free hand travels down your stomach, slipping beneath the fabric of your dampening panties, and finds the wet slit. He strokes your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you squirm and beg for more.

"Please, Noah," you whisper, your voice desperate with need. He grins, a devilish glint in his eye, and slides a finger inside you, curling it to find your sweet spot. You gasp, your body arching off the bed as he adds another finger, stretching and filling you.

"Feel good?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to hear you, baby.” Your cheeks flush as you realize he wants you to vocalize your pleasure. "Fuck…please Noah." He chuckles, the sound deep and sensual. "That's it, sweet girl."

He positions himself between your thighs, giving you one last teasing smile, before licking wide strip up your cunt, groaning at the taste of you. You gasp, your back arching from the bed. He dives back in devouring you. He pumped his fingers slowly, his tongue giving your clit few kitten licks before sucking it into his mouth gently.

You whimper, your fingers running through his hair gripping it firmly. He groaned as you tugged it, your hips thrusting against his tongue. “Such a good girl…take what you need.” He groaned watching you fall apart for him. You wasted no more time, pulling his face back into your aching cunt. Your orgasm quickly washing over you.

He grinned as you made a mess all over his tongue. He licked up every drop, before crawling back up to you. His lips found yours in a messy heated kiss. In one smooth thrust, he fills you, his cock sliding deep inside your core. You cry out, your body adjusting to the invasion, the sensation of being stretched around his thick cock.

He holds still, giving you a moment to acclimate, before beginning a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust fills you, his hips slamming against yours, his balls slapping against your ass. "Fuck baby..you feel so good," he grunts, his eyes closed in concentration. "So tight, so wet…all mine." He growled thrusting harder to emphasize the word ‘mine’

“Isn’t that right sweet girl?” He moaned as You matched his rhythm, your hips rising to meet his, your hands digging into his shoulders, leaving marks on his tattooed skin. "Fuck yes…all yours, please," you beg, your voice breathless.

“Please what baby?” He whispers against your lips. “Harder..”you whine, so close to the edge for the second time. He complies without another word, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each stroke. You're a mess of moans and whimpers, your body on the brink of ecstasy.

"Touch yourself, baby" he encourages, his voice thick with desire. "Let me see you fall apart for me again." You do as he says, your fingers finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud as he pounds into you. The combination of his cock and your fingers sends you over the edge.

"Fuck! I'm—I'm gonna cum!" you cry out, your body convulsing around him, your juices flowing freely. He grunts, his own release building as he feels your pussy clench around his him. With a final, powerful thrust, he empties himself inside you, his hot cum filling you up.

He collapses onto you, his weight pinning you to the bed, his breath ragged against your neck. "Fuck, y/n" he pants. “What?”A light giggle leaves your lips, as he lifts back up to look down you. “I love you.” His face was now serious, almost nervous. You reach up cupping his cheeks, pulling down into soft lingering kiss. “I love you too.”

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader.

You ask for a part 3, you shall receive 😈 I’ve had a few inbox’s and comments asking me for this so I’m happy to continue hehehe, do you all wanna see this series as pure smut or a mix? I think there’s only so much sex I can write 😭😭 this one is a mix so obviously an 18+ warning in place, but it’s not so heavy on smut in comparison to the other two parts.

@allabouthappiness thanks for asking me to tag you!!! If anybody else wants tagging in any of my work lemme know! Christian Horner throws a bbq party after Silverstone, it’s a good nice for the drivers to unwind and have some down time. High of the announcement he’d be racing once again, Daniel is obviously present and celebrating with his second family. The night is running smoothly, or so the Australian thinks, he just can’t get Christians daughter out of his head, and when she arrives later that evening the sexual tension is unbearable between the pair. In such a close proximity to being caught, will Daniel make a move? Or suffer in silence with his undeniable attraction to the younger woman…

“What do’ya want Daniel, a burger? Steak? Or my daughter?” Christian questioned.

“What?!” Daniels head snapped up in shock. “Or a hot dog?” Oh. “Uh, a burger, go on then…” God, he was so in his head. It had to stop, she wasn’t even here and Daniel couldn’t stop thinking about her. There was an odd disappointment that the pretty girl wasn’t there, a sickness deep in his stomach knowing she was at another party than here. He knew it was wrong to feel that way, but after their exchange over text the other evening, he just had to see her.

After a couple of drinks his phone felt heavier than ever in his pocket. He knew she was just a text away and remembered how she’d told him he could have her whenever. Her bedroom was just right up there, maybe when she got home, if she got home tonight, she’d drag him up there. Daniel shook the thought from his head quicker than it arrived, her family was sat right in front of him, and it felt twisted to think such sinful thoughts about Christian’s daughter.

The night grew later, and at around 1AM, Max found the wondering, drunk girl lingering in her kitchen nervously. “Hey, look who I found!” Everybody’s heads lifted in unison, the petite girl standing shyly, waving as Daniel felt his heart jump in his throat. He felt her look at everybody but him, and then, when she finally did, he looked away in pure shyness. What the fuck happened to Dutch courage? Y/n felt her eyes slowly trail across the men and their girlfriends, before they fixated on Daniel. He was fiddling with the beer bottle on his lap, scanning over the logo like it was the most interesting thing on the planet. A gentle smile followed by a slight blush grew on her face. In an odd sense she was worried he’d think she was frigid by not doing anything, but it was kinda difficult when so many people were around in her family home.

When he did look up, they caught eyes for the first time. He almost had to do a double take, especially when she started smiling, angelic and innocent, lingering over his as her body angled away, tits bouncing slightly as she shuffled in her seat. “Have you got any food left?” She then stood up, speaking to her father as Daniel felt his eyes roam over her tight little dress. Fuck. He couldn’t- he shouldn’t. Watching her interact with her family was undeniably sweet and charming, but he felt so guilty. The way he had to adjust himself in his pants ever so slightly at the curves of her body, it was so wrong but he was so hooked. An hour or so later, she’d had enough to drink to make the first move to sit next to him. She had Checo’s jumper on, nipped by the cool British night as Daniel watched them interact in borderline disgust. Christian and Geri had ventured to bed, so had some of the other men, but there was enough people still lingering to make the whole interact with her inappropriate.

“Did you eat the last kebab? Max said he’d save me one but they’re all gone.” She fell against his leg, bum scraping over his thigh, almost as she went to sit on his lap. Her body was pressed against his and her drink sloshed slightly down her bare leg causing a shiny wetness that Daniel wanted to lick clean. “Nah, kebab? I didn’t even get one of those.” The Australian answered, head turned and tilted down so they were face to face. A knowing smile grew on her face as she purposefully looked down to his lips. Daniel thought he’d have a heart attack.

“It was me…” Checo commented, coyly. “Checo!” She groaned playfully, Daniel grimacing when her attention was no longer on him. “What? You’ve got my jumper, that makes up for it!” The Mexican man exclaimed as Daniel ground his teeth together even harder. Was he being paranoid or was he flirting? He knew the Red Bull racer had a bad reputation with women, despite having a wife and four whole children at home. Daniel didn’t respect it.

“Yeah, yeah.” She shook it off, waving her hand before sipping from her glass again. “I’ll take the jumper off you?!” Checo then continued. It took everything in Daniel’s power not to roll his eyes, he couldn’t believe he was the only one hearing this. Even she was a little cringed out, she wasn’t stupid, she knew when a man was openly flirting, but Checo just had one of those personalities, plus she knew his partner, she’d never go there.

“Have it back then… I’ve got millions upstairs.” She teased, pulling it off and throwing it back directly in his face. Daniel liked that, there was no longer the smell of a man’s cologne on her, now it was only her sweet perfume that he found intoxicating. Now they were skin to skin, she purposefully brushed her arm against his, teasing as she fought for a comfortable position for her arm.

“You didn’t try a kebab then?” She turned her attention back to Daniel. “Nah, why, should I have?” He couldn’t hold back the smile the whole time they were talking. “Mmmh, they were good, weren’t they, Checo?” Despite her words being aimed at another man, her eyes were glued to Daniel. For a second or so, Checo eyed up the pair, squinting in confusion. Were they flirting or was he just super drunk? Checo just assumed the second about himself.

“Yeah�� they were…”

* “See ya’ guys later.” Daniel waved to Max and Kelly who drove off in their lift back to their hotel. Kelly waved whilst Max’s head hung out of the window, sickened from the mixture of alcohol he’d been consuming all evening. From behind Daniel he felt a hand smooth over his back, causing him to tense seeing it was y/n. She looked so sexy, changed into her oversized T-shirt and shorts that he couldn’t see the bottom of. Daniel could see the press of her hardened nipples against the white material, piercings obvious as he had the most perverted thought to lift the shirt up.

“My Uber’s 15 minutes away.” He then muttered, feeling a little awkward from the silence that took over them. “Oh.” She played with the bottom of the shirt. Daniel could’ve sworn he saw shorts earlier, but he must’ve been fooled because there definitely was no material covering her thighs. Fuck, he had such easy access to her cunt, something he’d basically dreamt of for endless nights. Alone now, Daniel’s eyes fixated on the bare of her tan skin, fists balling at either side of him.

She let out a sigh, questioning how the hell they could do everything they wanted in the space of fifteen minutes. Much to her disappointment, they couldn’t. But the alcohol buzzing through her bloodstream wouldn’t allow him to leave without even the smallest of a kiss. Her hand slowly closed the door, pulling the bolt on as he gulped, blinking away, back to the floor below. Feeling himself sway, he slammed a hand against the door, preventing himself from falling. When he did he caught her fingers under his own. “You okay?” She giggled, head tilting up to him. “A little drunk.” He rubbed over his face quickly. For some reason he didn’t want her to know that he couldn’t get the thought of her sweet cunt out of his head.

“Just a little?” She teased, his hand still resting on her own. “More than a little, fuck.” He snickered as she had the overwhelming urge to kiss him. “So am I.” She giggled, wrapping her two smaller fingers over his and nudging his hand slowly down the door. Daniel’s hand moved with ease, eyeing up the movement as she lead it down to her ass. Daniel swallowed, feeling her soft skin as he gripped on her flesh, squeezing a handful of her ass gently. “Hm.” She hummed out gently, moving her hand up over his shoulder, followed by the other, almost as though she was testing the waters. Daniel nudged his face closer, dipping his head as he inhaled the scent of her perfume once more. Fuck, she smelt so good. Their faces were so close, nudging closer, each aching for contact. “Kiss me, Daniel… nobody’s here.” She whispered, trailing a hand down the back of his scalp. She’d needed him all evening, craved the close proximity between them. Now she only had 15 minutes of it? “You want me to?” Why was he nervous? She’d nodded with the slightest moan, making the first move to press her lips against his own. The kiss was gentle, soothing, it ignited a fire in both their chests.

He’d moved in closer, kissing her a little deeper, but when he heard a thumping noise from upstairs he jumped back, eyes wide in worry. “It was just the dog…” she giggled. “Oh.” He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. Sure enough, the door came scurrying down, heading towards his water bowl in the kitchen.

Taking him gently by the jaw, she moved her lips to the soft skin of his neck. Her smooth lips moved over the sensitive area, kissing and sucking with the lightest pressure. Daniel’s palm was back on the door, pressing to avoid the urge to just grab her body. “Touch me, Daniel.” She sensed the worry in him. “I can’t.” He shakily exhaled, penetrated by the worry that her dad could possibly come down and catch them. He wanted to, he really wanted to. “If I start I won’t be able to stop.” He admitted as she swallowed a little, smiling simply and kissing his cheek.

She pulled off, and Daniels eyes opened again seeing her ready to spin away. He couldn’t bare it, “no.” So he grabbed her arm, keeping her in place. “No, no.” He muttered, pulling them around his neck again. Fuck… he couldn’t touch her but she could- “talk to me.” Daniel borderline pleaded, closing his eyes again as the swell of her breasts pushed up against him, nipples hard against his top. “Talk to you?” She teased, pushing her hips up to his. He was already rock hard, fuck, she bet he hurt straining against his jeans like that. “Talk to me. Tell me everything you want me to do to you.. please, y/n.” He was speaking quickly now, hands now gripping at her hips as she pressed up against him.

“So I can’t kiss you… and you can’t touch me, but you wanna hear everything I want you to do to me?” She blinked back to him, a fake confusion taking over her face. Daniel nodded, dropping his head so he could look at her better.

“Why are you torturing yourself like that?” She giggled again, hearing him groan. “M’ not messing around.” A hand slid up her body, onto her neck, gripping her throat as she let out a breathy moan. Fuck, she didn’t know he had that in him. It turned her on 10x more and she wasn’t quite sure if she could cope with Daniel holding off for much longer.

“Fuck, why are you winding me up like this?” She whined, grabbing a hold of his arm. It was the first time she’d let the confident guard down, staring up to him with pleading eyes. “Please Daniel, please… please. Nobody knows…” she whispered, feeling his hand smooth up to her jaw. Daniel felt himself losing control and had to snap back into reality, gritting his teeth as he held her close. “You know I can stay quiet for you.” Her hands tan dangerously close to the top of her jeans. Daniel let out an inward moan, frustrated by how close he was to feeling so good with her. He stumbled back against the door, head looking back as she fell with him, fingertips grasping around the material of his pants.

Spurred on by his hardness she let out a gentle hum, gazing up to him again. “I can be your good girl, Daniel. If you just want me to talk to you, then that’s all I’ll do… I won’t touch.” Deep down she knew he wouldn’t resist, he could barely even look back into her eyes or he’d lose his mind.

“I won’t touch you ever again if you don’t want that.” God no. That’s not what Daniel wanted. He took her by the back of the head, holding her close as he pressed his lips to her forehead, inhaling the scent of her freshly washed hair. It reminded him of the time they’d fucked in the changing room, her ass pressed against his hips, his cock so deep inside of her… he wanted it again, fuck he knew he couldn’t but he needed it.

“I need you.” Daniel told her, shaking his head as she gripped at his shirt. “Then take me, fuck, you’re making it so hard on yourself. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“You’re 22.” He muttered, lips moving against her forehead. “And your dad is- is upstairs… he’s my princi-“ “And he has no fucking clue you’re down here with me.” She told him firmly, sliding a hand back down to the hem of his jeans. “He never will. It’s only me and you.” She kissed his jaw once more. Daniel felt himself losing control, again, his hand sliding up her shirt, grazing over the thin material of her underwear, over her waist and stomach. “You’ve got five minutes to do whatever the fuck you want to me, or I’ll just go upstairs and do it myself.”

“Not upstairs, do it here, do it now.” Daniel choked out, fingers curling over her underwear and yanking them down. “Please, please. I can’t touch you, I won’t, but I can watch you.” He shook his head as she bit down on her lip, enjoying the slight control he had over her. “Why can’t you touch me?” Her voice was light and airy as her black underwear fell to the floor. She’d purposefully changed into them just for him to see.

“Not now.” Daniel hushed, guiding her hand to her pussy, she felt herself, already wet, running her fingers over the sensitive bud. “I want you to-“ he cut her off with a bruising kiss. “Just do it. For me, please.”

Her fingers rolled at her words, almost falling back into the wall, but Daniel pulled her close again, holding her waist close as he could feel the slow moving of her hand. “Faster.” Daniel instructed, against her mouth, hearing her moan as she continued to pleasure herself.

“Want ya’ to make yourself cum before I leave.” Daniel shook his head, unable to get enough of her kiss. “I can’t-“ she went to whine fingers dipping in her wetness, it would never feel as his would. “Yes you can.”

“Need you Daniel, please, need you to touch me. Your fingers would feel so good inside of me.” She drunkly babbled, keeping her voice low as Daniel’s forehead rested against hers. He felt undeniably turned on, his cock was throbbing in his trousers and it took everything inside of him to not pull his pants down and give her what she wanted. “So beautiful.. you look so beautiful doing this, y/n.” He breathed out, overwhelmed by her beauty. Her lips were slightly agape and plump from where they’d been kissing, her eyes were lazily focused on him, and there was a slight knot of pleasure between her brows. Daniel kissed there once more before meeting her lips.

He’d felt something funny inside of him, not for the first time, and it wasn’t because he was drunk either. They were real butterflies, fuck, that wasn’t good- but the way she was sighing was angelic- he almost couldn’t stop himself. The alcohol fuelled his sex drive, and also his anxieties. How could they ever be together? Woah- together? Where did that come from? Daniel pulled back from the kiss, looking over her face once again. So pretty, so youthful, she had her whole life ahead of her, what were they even doing? “Daniel.” She whimpered, and he couldn’t stop. No matter what his brain was telling him, he was too entranced by her. God, he knew it was wrong, so wrong, but it felt too good to stop. “I got you.” He hushed, tilting her chin up to meet in a kiss. She felt blissful, the relief of the touch was good, but if it was his touch it would’ve been better. His hand flattened over hers, fingers on top of hers, mimicking the action, he was so close, yet not close enough.

Sneaking her hand away, his fingers finally sunk into her wetness, but it was cut acutely short when the buzzing of his phone interrupted them both. The Uber. Fuck. “Shit.” Daniel cursed as she awkwardly reached down to pull her underwear up. Her teeth sunk down into her bottom lip, looking at him through her eyelashes as he answered the phone, telling them he’d be out in a second.

“Sorry.” He whispered, leaning forwards and pecking her on the lips quicker than she could process. “See you later, Daniel…” “Fuck- I-I’ll make it up to you. Some how.”

[beingsuneone]

Sunset & Vine

PART ONE | PART TWO

SYNOPSIS: one year was all you had, and the winners of the previous hunger games. You didn’t know them that well, but they were still youre only friends. Now you’re thrown back into the Games with some new confusing feelings.

FANDOM: The Hunger Games

PAIRING(S): Peeta Mallark x Victor!Reader

RATING: G

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Coriolanus Snow, Johanna Mason, Finnick Odair, Effie Trinket, President Coin, Gale Hawthorne

GENRE/AU: Dystopia, Angst, a very small amount of comfort,

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: Katniss is slightly OOC, Canon divergent in some ways but not others, CATCHING FIRE AND MOCKINGJAY SPOILERS, Reader won the 74th hunger games and Peeta and Katniss won the 73rd.

A/N: Jjj, I’ve really got to stop writing stories with ending like this. Lemme know if you want part two. FYI!!! Changed a few words that completely changed the context and set up for the next part.

DEDICATIONS: Peeta my beloved

CREDITS: Taylor Swift for the name (Gorgeous - Taylor Swift)

It’s a woman, standing with her back to you— she has similar hair to yours and an almost protective stance to her. A haze of colour surrounds her… oranges, purples and yellows swirled into an indescribable but beautiful mess.

Peeta Mellark may be a fellow victor, and he may be one of your neighbours, but you know nothing about him. Except for this beautiful painting that he gifted you.

She wears a dress that flows in some sort of assumed breeze, and has a hand tentatively braced in her hair; there’s something so familiar about this scene that you can’t place— something familiar about the woman in particular.

You can’t place it.

You run your fingers along the small note that Peeta had left with the painting, hovering over the loopy cursive of his signature; it’s the same on the painting but it’s too beautiful to touch like that.

Last year, you won the seventy-fourth annual hunger games, and became a legend for getting district twelve two wins in a row— right alongside Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, Who won the seventy-third hunger games.

Thank god the months of parading you around were over and you could settle happily into your gigantic house by yourself.

Well, happily might be an over statement— you had no family, and certainly no friends… unless Haymitch counts but you don’t think he does.

So this painting feels extra special— a warmth in an otherwise cold and unfamiliar home.

“Where should I put it?” Muttering to yourself, you mentally scan the layout of your house; you’d want it to be in a place where you could see it often, but also somewhere where any house guest would be able to see it… yeah. House guests.

After shaking your head uselessly, you settle on hanging it in the entryway. For sure people would see it there.

You’d been putting off doing this for a couple of days, just because you hadn’t had a whole lot of energy to do anything but sit in a chair and half-read a novel.

So, after a few minutes of fiddling and messy calculations, the painting is hung in the entryway.

You take one last glance at the swirling coloured background once more, and then turn away, leaving the comfort and fantasy behind.

……

Victors are supposed to have immunity, they’re supposed to be done with the games for the rest of their miserable, trauma ridden lives.

But the seventy-fifth hunger games brings back all of the worst parts of last year— you know that out of the three other victors, you’re the female they want to get picked. You’re the easy decision, the loner that nobody cares about.

You know the Capitol loves Peeta and Katniss far too much, and you, not enough.

This, stacked on top of everything else the Capitol has put you through… it’s too much.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when there’s a knock at your door.

“Hello?” You say as you open it; Peeta Mellark is standing there with his lip turned down just slightly, his eyes center behind you for a moment before his face softens and lightens.

“Hey. You got the painting.” A smile melts onto his face, and you swear he looks… beyond words when he smiles.

After a long moment of silence, you clear your throat. “What brings you here…?” You stammer awkwardly, cringing at your choice of words.

He sort of— laughs? Chuckles? at you. “We’re talking strategy for the Quarter Quell and we figured we should include you.” His face falls again, and he looks like he’s holding something back.

Your back straightens. “The Quarter Quell isn’t for another few months—”

He nods slowly. “But we’re going to have to do the pre-tour… and they’re pulling names in just a couple weeks.”

The band around his ring finger gleams brightly in the sun, which sends some sort of jealous feeling rolling through you.

You shake your head because you don’t know Peeta Mellark, and, even if he is gorgeous, you don’t get crushes on people you don’t know.

Plus he’s in love and engaged to Katniss Everdeen, even if you did know him well enough to develop a crush.

He glances down, and then quickly yanks the ring off. “It’s, uh— just for the camera’s.” Then he gestures to the painting behind you. “That’s you, you know. I know you’ve never worn a dress like that, but I saw a screencap of you in The Games and inspiration just kind of… hit me.” he trails off at the end and fiddles with the ring in his hand.

“It’s… me?” You say slowly. “We barely know each other, why would you paint me?”

He takes a small breath. “You’re really beautiful, Y/n, I’ve always thought so.”

A breath hitches but you genuinely can’t discern if it’s him or you over the roaring of blood in your ears.

“So…” he starts again. “If you want to join us, we’re heading over to Haymitch’s now.”

“Okay.” You say, sounding more winded than you did before; you stare at him for a few more moments before you step out of the front door and shut it.

You walk silently beside him, trying not to take in his messy blonde hair or pretty blue eyes—and also, failing miserably—

Just as you reach Haymitch’s doorstep, you stop and tug on Peeta’s sleeve to get his attention. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Peeta.”

He looks down at you, the air around you charged with some kind of something that you can’t name, and just as he’s about to reach over to you, the door swings open.

“Why are you guys just standing out here?” Katniss says with her nose scrunched, she eyes you up and then eyes Peeta up in a similar fashion.

At least it wasn’t exclusively you.

Both your heads snap toward her, while Peeta smoothly comes up with a reason. “Y/n was feeling nervous, I was just trying to help calm her nerves.”

Haymitch raises an eyebrow from behind Katniss, and gives Peeta a look.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He says, as Katniss steps aside and lets the two of you in. There’s a tenderness to his voice that you hadn’t realized you missed so much.

“Hi.” The three of you shuffle into what you think was once a living room but it’s chillingly messy in Haymitch’s house.

“Couldn’t we have done this at someone else’s house?” Peeta says, eying the empty bottles on the floor.

“No.” Katniss shakes her head, shooting Haymitch a glare. “Because everytime we have to talk to him, we have to wake him up with a bucket of water.”

You snort. “I’m sorry— a bucket of water?”

Haymitch cuts in. “Why do you think my hair’s wet? I definitely didn’t take a shower.” There's a water stain that makes his shirt sag, and you wonder how you didn’t notice before. Haymitch clears his throat. “Moving on; if it’s Katniss and Peeta then we can still milk the whole star-crossed lover thing— if it’s me or Y/n… that won’t work.”

“Y/n shouldn’t go.” Peeta interjects; you’re taken aback by it.

You fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I really thought I was the best person to go.” You pause, looking up at the three of them. “It’s not like there’s anyone here that will care if I don’t come home.”

Haymitch gives Peeta a scrutinizing look. “Look, Lover-boy, we know you have a crush but that isn’t enough for Katniss to volunteer herself if Y/n gets picked.”

Peeta looks to you and then back to Haymitch. “Katniss and I are the Capitol’s favourite couple right now, if we went we’d probably be much better off in terms of sponsors and parachutes.”

“And you don’t want her to go.” Haymitch gestures in yours and Katniss’s direction.

Peeta sighs but doesn’t deny it. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want his fiancé to go back to the Games.

“Peeta is right,” Katniss starts, “but, Haymitch, if you get picked… Peeta should stay. Either way.”

Peeta shakes his head. “No. I’m not staying.”

You cut in. “There’s no good reason why I should stay.” You’re basically the only clear answer; if you get picked you’ll go, and, if Katniss is picked, you’ll go. “I won’t.”

Now all three of them are staring at you. “If I get picked, Katniss can’t volunteer and if she gets picked, you can’t stop me from volunteering.”

Katniss huffs. “You can’t stop me from volunteering either.”

Really, you could all argue this for hours.

…..

The four of you had never come to a conclusion, and now it’s the day of the Reaping.

Effie stands uncomfortably at the bowl; she doesn’t seem happy about having to pull your names, despite her chipper facade.

“The female tribute for District Twelve is…” she says, digging around in the two slips of paper in the bowl. She finally pulls one out and reluctantly reads it out. “Y/n L/n.” She almost sighs your name.

Katniss’s fingers twitch nervously, like she wants to say something but you shoot her the strongest glare you can muster.

She doesn’t volunteer, and you’re glad for it.

You walk up to the stage, head held high; you know this is the start of the end of your life, so you might as well act more confident than you truly are.

Effie looks at you sadly once you’re settled behind her, and then turns back to the audience. “And… the male tribute for District Twelve is,” she spends another five minutes routing through the two names. “Haymitch Abernathy.” This time her sigh is one of relief.

But the relief does not last long.

“I volunteer!” Peeta says, stepping forward; Haymitch grabs his arm and says something too quiet to hear, and Peeta says something back. His face is full of determination as everyone watches him walk up the stage and stand next to you.

Everyone in your little group wears a look of defeat. Even you.

Only one of you can go home, and you’re going to do your damn best to make sure it’s Peeta Mellark.

…..

“I’m not ready for this.” You say quietly, as you walk down the corridor to your bedrooms on the train. “It’s hardly been a year, Peeta.”

He nods solemnly, not looking at you as you arrive at your door. His is just across the hall.

Peeta gently takes your hand in his and squeezes. “I know. It’s too soon.” He looks angry. “We were never supposed to have to do this again.” He drops your hand before you can reciprocate in any sort of way.

You do feel a little less nauseous though.

“It‘s okay.” You whisper, twitching your fingers and slapping it onto the doorknob. “It’ll be okay.”

Peeta’s eyes rove over you in a scrutinizing manner as though he’s trying to figure some meaning behind your words, but there isn’t one to figure.

Just that it will be okay. Peeta will, if you really just be specific. Peeta will return home, happy and safe.

Ready to live his life with the woman he loves… Katniss.

And you will fade into false glory and distant memory.

…..

“Finnick, Right?” You fidget with your fingers in front of you; Finnick Odair was an attractive man who oozed with confidence and smooth words.

“Want a sugar cube?” He asks slyly, holding one out to you. “They're supposed to be for the horses but— we’re going to die anyway, it won’t matter after that.”

You nod carefully. “Of course, because that would obviously matter if we weren’t already set for death.” You still take the sugar cube from his hand and pop it in your mouth.

You almost gag from it. Pure sugar was… a lot. “Ugh. That’s disgusting.”

Finnick chuckles. “But liberating.”

You shake your head but a smile still spreads across your face. “Liberating indeed, Finnick Odair. My last act of rebellion is eating a sugar cube.”

“Devastating, really. To the Capitol, I mean.” He smiles easily at you, before someone catches his attention and he saunters off.

Claudius Templesmith stood not far from you, crooning about something with one of the older tributes.

The older man— Betee, you think— stood, looking indifferent but also invested in Claudius’s ramblings and unnecessary questions.

You were dreading the questions he’d ask you during your second round of interviews.

The last time was time enough for you.

“What’d he want?” Peeta asks, walking up behind you and pulling your attention away from the other party-goers.

“Oh, you know,” you say flippantly, “sugarcubes, secrets, and sarcasm.”

Peeta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion but the smile remains on his face. “Sounds like an interesting conversation.” He extends his arm to you. “Shall we?”

You sigh. “Not like we have much choice.”

….

“I’d give anything to know what’s going on inside your head.” Peeta says softly, fidgeting with the rope in his hands. You’d both decided that learning how to tie some knots would be beneficial.

You chuff, an awkward laugh. “What do you mean?”

His fingers work steadily, and somewhat clumsily, with the rope; there’s something alluring about how sure he can be with his hands.

It makes you think of the painting in your house— the one that you’ll never see again— how patient he must’ve been to complete such a beautiful piece, how still and sure of himself.

“What are you thinking right now, Y/n?” He looks up at you, with those beautiful blue eyes of his.

You shrug. “I was thinking about…” you trail off, because you absolutely cannot say that you were thinking about his hands. A half-truth will have to do. “Your painting. How I’ll never see it again.”

Hip lips pull into a frown. “You’ll see it again, I’m going to make sure of it.”

Sighing deeply, you stand. “You’re the one who has to go home, Peeta, not me.” He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “It has to be you.”

….

You don’t have the time to argue about it for the next couple of days, you hardly even see each other.

Now, Cinna is preparing you for the arena. You know that everything he gave was meant for Katniss, he had obviously expected it to be her, or that he wouldn’t style you.

He hadn’t been your stylist, but yours had opted out of this year’s games, claiming it was too painful to watch you go back in.

You hadn’t liked her much the first time around, wanted to change you too much in ways that you most definitely did not like.

Cinna, though, you liked him. Though this would be the last time you saw him.

You were dressed in whatever mandatory suit that they designed for this game, a skin tight suit that looked like you were about to go scuba diving.

“It’s time.” Cinna says, glancing back to the tube at the back of the room. You turn back to it.

“Thank you, Cinna.” You say, bowing your head for him. “It was nice getting to know you.”

He smiles half-heartedly. “It was a pleasure, Y/n.”

You exchange a final goodbye and step into the tube. The sixth second countdown begins as the tube starts to ascend.

It's all water, just water and water and water in a large circle around them. There was also thin sand bars that connected the tubes and the Cornucopia, but you knew you wouldn’t be braving that.

Peeta stands three tubes down, with a morphling, a Career and Johanna between you two.

Twenty seconds.

You stare at him desperately, hoping he’ll stick to the plan and swim towards you; you catch his eyes and he smiles reassuringly. It’s not a genuine smile but it still calms you all the same.

Ten seconds.

You ball your fists, clenching hard.

Nine.

Eight.

God, it’s going to be difficult to get out of the water.

Seven.

Six.

You’re not the strongest swimmer, maybe you should go to the Cornucopia.

Five.

Four.

And it’s a long way to swim, even for someone who does know how. Only experienced swimmers, like Finnick, would have an easy time of it.

Three.

Two.

Then, it occurs to you, maybe those sandbars go all the way to the shore; if you get to the Cornucopia, Grab, well, anything, and then flee via the sandbars, you just might be okay.

One.

The pads everyone stands on recede into the water and dumps everyone straight in.

It makes you realize that most of your competitors do not know how to swim.

Peeta is just barely floating thanks to the bright purple belt that had been strapped around all your waists.

You know how to swim at least a little bit , so you unbuckle yours and swim over to him; once it inflates fully, you give it to him and try to drag him towards the sandbars.

It dawns on you all over again that Peeta is a tall guy, and he’s not exactly small either.

He’s strong and his weight definitely shows that; he tries to keep himself afloat but ends up making it worse.

Eventually, you make it over there, and he pulls himself up onto the loose sand; it takes a bit of effort because it’s slippery and keeps moving under your weight.

It’s barely stable enough to be a viable option. Just barely.

You leave him there for a minute and swim to the cornucopia. There's fighting going on on its small platform, but you just snag a small waterproof bag that sits a few yards away; a knife comes flying in your direction, and knicks your face.

The salt of the water stings as it mingles with blood.

When you spin back towards Peeta, he’s struggling and Finnick is approaching him.

You race back as fast as you can.

Finnick already has some pretty gnarly weapons strapped to him.

You’re about to draw the knife on him when shakes his head. “Relax, Y/n, I’m saving his ass.” Then he lifts a hand out of the water and flashes some sort of bracelet at you.

It’s the alliance bracelets that Haymitch had mentioned.

Oh.

“I-”you start, but you never really had a sentence to begin with.

You just lag silently behind as Finnick helps Peeta to the shore. The closer you get to the shore, the wider the sandbars get, and the sturdier they are as well.

Until they're eventually higher than the water, and wide enough for both Peeta and yourself to walk side by side.

You collapse onto the sand when you finally reach the shore and stay there for only a second.

That’s all you have before the three of you are up and running into the forest in front of you.

….

When Peeta’s heart stops, you're sure that yours does too— you’re sure that, as you stand there in a state while Finnick tries to resuscitate Peeta, you’re also unresponsive and silent. Dead.

True enough, in a way.

The longer you stare at Peeta’s face, still twisted in pain from the shock, the more you feel like dropping to the ground and sobbing.

You tried to imagine the way he painted with camouflage training stuff, drawing intricate designs onto both his and one of the morhpling’s arms.

It had washed off by the next morning but you had spent the whole night longing to touch it, run your fingers along his arm, trace the shapes and swirls.

Beyond the paintings, you recalled his magnetic smile and the way he always made you feel safe and calm, the steady air that he radiated.

You weren’t ready for him to die, he was the one who was supposed to win this, after all. You had resolved that Peeta Mellark was going to be the winner of the 75th Hunger Games and you were going to do whatever you needed to to make that happen. You were even prepared to turn into somebody you weren’t, just to make sure Peeta went home. Or at least, you thought you could if you had to come to it.

But now, you’re ready to give up. Finnick or Johanna could win— and they should. Literally anyone else but you. Everyone who had a life now that Peeta is gone.

You’re just about to collapse to the ground when Peeta starts to cough erratically, and he manages to sit straight up.

“Peeta!” You cry as you fall to the ground next to him, and wrap your arms around his neck. He seems disoriented for a moment before he hugs you back, right. “I really thought you were gone.”

He gently strokes your back, as you fuss over him, double checking that he’s okay and checking his burn.

…..

You hear a loud sickening crack from somewhere else in the arena that makes everyone but Johanna and Finnick jump. You feel Peeta’s hand wrap around you protectively and pull you closer to him in the single instant that you’re all reacting to the noise.

It takes a few delayed seconds before each one of you realizes that it’s just the lightning in 12, before you realize just how having Peeta’s hands on you makes you feel.

His fingers slip from your waist, brushing softly as they fall away and leaving you feeling just slightly feral.

You pull yourself away, and dig your nails into your thigh to ground yourself. Getting used to this clock thing was going to be agonizing.

You’re waiting patiently as the lot of you— You, Peeta, Finnick, Johanna and Beetee— come up with a plan to take down the force field and take out the Careers at the same time.

You can barely focus on the conversation because you itch to have Peeta’s hands on you again, to feel his fingers against your skin again.

In fact there’s so many things you’d like to say and do with Peeta that you know you will never have the chance to; not to mention that he is in love with someone else and would never be interested in any of those things with you anyways.

You’re pretty sure you’d been staring at Peeta but you only notice because Finnick shoots a look at you— you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking but it must be something about that.

You try to zone back into the plan.

….

Trying to trap the careers failed miserably, and the person most experienced with a bow was you, but only thanks to Katniss’s training.

Everything was a blur as the force field came down; chaos, fire everywhere— you couldn’t see or hear Peeta.

You worried about him and you laid pathetically on the ground, half out of your mind. You wondered if he was having trouble with his prosthetic leg, or having run from Enobaria or one of the other careers. You wondered if he’d make it out okay, even though it was obvious you wouldn’t.

You wondered and worried for what felt like forever until an airship appeared above you.

Great. You thought, the Capitol has come to torture you and everyone you’ve ever loved until the couldnt anymore and all of you was nothing more than a shell of a person. Until the only option was avox or death.

You can’t move, or fight it as the giant claw, scoops you up.

All that effort and you still managed to condem each and everyone of you to torture.

…..

“Relax, Y/n!” Haymitch snaps, as Finnick restrains you.

Katniss sits on the other side of the table, looking just as devastated as you.

“What do you mean, you didn’t get Peeta? You can’t just leave him there, they’ll hurt him worse than any of us could ever imagine!” You say, still struggling to get away from Finnick.

Katniss actually argues in your favour. “I did say I would only do this thing if you got both her and Peeta.”

Plutarch, the game maker shakes his head redundantly. “Peeta and Johanna were just to far away for us to locate before the Capitols airships came; I’m sorry, we’ll get them back eventually.”

Finnick finally lets you go once you’ve calmed down. He has a solemn look on his face. “I’m sure they’ve got Annie too. We need to save them as soon as possible.”

….

As soon as possible turns into several weeks, several heartbreakingly, agonizingly long weeks.

You can’t help but think about Peeta every moment of every day . You imagine all the terrible things Snow is doing to him, you wish it was you in his place.

Peeta was the one person who never deserved any of this, over anyone else. You and Katniss had been willing to do whatever you needed to to survive, you’d done things maybe you weren’t particularly proud of. But Peeta? He had never let the Games change him.

He had always been the same.

Safe, steady, comfortable, strong.

You don’t even have any hope that they’re showing him any mercy.

They aren’t.

You know now, you know by the way that last interview they aired went— how he was struck just as the cameras shut off, how your heart broke when you looked into his eyes, when you saw just how much they’d hurt him already.

You were just about ready to burst into Coin’s office and tell her that you were getting Peeta now, regardless of the consequences to Thirteen.

Gale and Katniss were fighting a lot lately, tension was heavy between them; and not in a good way. You didn’t know Gale well, but the comments he made about Peeta made your skin crawl and your hands itch to throw a few punches.

Actually they were arguing now, about Peeta, and you were listening.

Gale’s head snaps to you randomly and he barks at you; “and you! Why the hell are you so invested in Bread Boy?”

You startle for a moment, but then narrow your eyes. “What do you mean why am I invested? He’s my— friend.” You say, sounding unsure even to yourself.

Katniss huffs. “I mean, come on, Gale, you know that our relationship has been fake from the start and we—” she gestures between the two of them. “—we’re friends, Gale, we always have been.”

He scoffs, and says something else in a bitter tone but all you can hear is Katniss’s words replaying over and over in your brain.

Our relationship has been fake from the start.

“Shut up for a second!” You snap at Gale, and turn back to Katniss. “Your relationship was fake the whole time? Yours and Peeta’?” You almost feel like an asshole for asking, just in case it is real; but so many things Peeta has done and said make so much more sense recontextualized like this.

Like when he said their rings were ‘just for ten cameras.’ Or when he told you he always thought you were beautiful. Or even the way he tried so hard to convince not to go back into the games.

Both of their faces fall flat, Katniss’s in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” She says.

You shake your head slowly. “No, I-” you stop yourself because you're at a loss for words.

“Y/n, we didn’t try to hide it from you, how did you not know? Even Haymitch said right in front of you that Peeta had a crush on you!”

You deadpan once again. You had blatantly misread everybody’s words in that conversation. “I just assumed that was about you!” You stare at each other for a second longer before you stand up abruptly. “I have to go.”

There was a lot of thinking you had to do and then a lot of planning— and a bit of yelling too.

…..

You were deemed too invested in the mission to actually go on it, and Finnick was too distressed over Annie to be allowed.

So you had been sitting together in silence; the silence was comfortable but the insane amounts of stress running through your veins was enough to make the tension in the air as sharp as a knife. Not between each other but to any other person.

Especially since Gale was allowed to go on the mission, and you felt that was entirely unfair— Gale doesn’t even like Peeta.

It had turned into a whole day of waiting, and only twenty minutes ago, they had returned with Johanna, Peeta and Annie.

The anxiety had grown tenfold when you were both informed you weren’t allowed to see them yet.

Now, you’re standing outside the door where Annie was resting, watching her through the one way window.

Finnick’s eyes are filled with so many you can only pick out one or two; you wonder if your eyes will look similar when you enter Peeta’s room.

You wish him luck and watch as he enters the room; Annie looks like she screams his name and then jumps him. He holds her up, looking like it’s the happiest moment of his life.

Watching them makes you much more excited to see Peeta, although you're not sure it will be quite that exuberant of a reunion.

You walk a couple doors down, glancing in the windows as you do; but you stop when you see Katniss and Johanna in one of the rooms before Peeta’s.

Why in the world is Katniss in the Hospital? What happened?

You push open the door gently, and Katniss doesn’t stir— you take note of the morphling drip in her arm, that must be keeping her knocked out.

You see Johanna is also asleep, her head is shaved and she has the worst tortured expression on, even though she looks to be sleeping soundfully— physically, anyways.

If she’s looking that bad, you can’t help but wonder about Peeta. You’re always wondering about him.

You don’t want to disturb either of their healing so you quickly leave the room, shutting the door as quietly and calmly as you can.

Finally, as you walk out, you spot the guards in front of Peeta’s door; you think it’s a little strange, considering neither Johanna nor Annie had security at the door but you walk towards the door anyways.

The guards hold out a hand as you approach.

“Restricted access, you can’t go in there.” The guard says, almost heartlessly.

Just as he finishes speaking, the door opens and Haymitch steps out and away. You would look through the window but the blinds are down.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, you can’t see him.” Haymitch takes your arm and leads you back down the hallway. “The Capitol… they tortured him so bad he—” Haymitch stops, and looks away for a second before looking back. “He tried to strangle Katniss, and kept yelling about how Katniss was a liar. He’s not himself right now.”

So much for your heartfelt reunion.

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

[echantedtoon]

Demonstober Day 19 Cupid

In classical mythology, Cupid /ˈkjuːpɪd/ (Latin: Cupīdō [kʊˈpiːdoː], meaning "passionate desire") is the god of desire, love, attraction and affection. 

Tagging: @lavenderdropp @six-eyed-samurai @trancylovecraft @shadyd3ar @cherrysuzaku

@nousija @mspurpl3

Remember if you want to be added to the spooktober taglist lemme know

"You know I've been having some really weird things happen to me ever since my ex dumped me on Valentine's Day last year."

Your friend blinked at you from across the table as he paused mid bite in his burger. Murata blinked at you before slowly lowering said food. "Huh? How so?"

You hadn't been wrong about the weird bad luck you've been having since Valentine's Day last year. Your cheating ex-boyfriend had dumped you over text after ghosting you at the park you were supposed to meet at for a star gazing date and left you to angry cry all the way home. Luckily you hadn't been together long so it only took about two months for you to completely get over him. But ever since that day things have been rather...strange.

It started with your new neighbor. His package had mistakenly been delivered to your house so you went to go return it to him, however as you spoke something pushed you from behind and you ended up slamming painfully into him before you both landed on the floor. In front of his wife. Who went ballistic seeing a stranger on top of her husband. In the end you had a headache from where your heads slammed together, you had to pay for the china that the package contained because your combined weight crushed it, and one of your new neighbors now hate you. Great. 

You chalked it up to a gust of wind at the time before forgetting about it. However there was a slew of other things that happened to you over the next year.

Somehow the resident annoying office playboy got assigned to work with you on a project after your VERY confused boss swore he sent him an email assigning him to someone else. So you had to endure his constant flirts for two weeks. 

You were constantly bumping into people, knocking someone down, or spilling your drink on them and vise versa. Which lead to many, MANY fights, slight coffee burns, money out of your pocket paying for their drinks, and fights from their angry partners. Once you got trapped in an elevator with a pretty girl who happened to be claustrophobic and ended up vomiting from the stress all over your new coat as you attempted to calm her down.  Then there was the time you got stuck in traffic with three flat tires costing you lots of money and the tow truck driver was a creepy older man who kept asking for your number.

However what must've been the most painful blow was the call you got one day while TRYING to fix your broken pc. Your phone wouldn't stop buzzing on the table annoying until you finally got fed up and answered it with a scowl.

"WHAT?!"

"Um...Is this Y/n L/n?", a man's voice asked.

"Yeah? Who's this?" You held your phone with your shoulder as you tried to screw the back of the computer back on. 

"I matched with you on your profile. I wanted to set up a date."

You paused. "What?"

"Your profile? Your Single Me profile. I matched with you yesterday but you never responded-"

You immediately hung up on the guy and blocked him assuming it was either a scam, prank call, or he mistook you for a person with the same name. You didn't have a profile on any dating websites. However after four more calls from different people who asked when you were free for a date. A search of your phone surprised you when you found an app you DEFINITELY never downloaded and logging into said app lead you to a profile with your pictures, interests, and phone number listed.  You immediately deleted the profile and app before taking your phone to the electronics store the next day for a spyware scan. Someone must've hacked into your phone to impersonate you and made the profile but the tech guy told you there wasn't anything wrong.

You still rebooted your phone and added new privacy settings just in case.

It's been a little quiet now. You haven't had any accidents or any weird interactions with anyone else so far for about two months now. So maybe your weird luck involving stupid romcom scenarios was finally over.

"Like every other time I told you about?", you pointed out deadpanned to him.

He shrugged and just went back to eating his burger with a happy hum. "Maybe it was just a funk you were in for a while? Like how some people get burn out of writers block. Nothing's happened to you for a while now."

"I guess you're right. Nothing bad is really happening." You placed you hands down and sighed. "I just hope this isn't some divine sign my love life is going to crap though."

"Cheer up! Being single isn't bad. In fact, it's really awesome. You don't have to worry about anyone else and you have a sweet bachelorette pad!"

Despite yourself you chuckled. Leave it to Murata to make you feel better. "*Sigh* Thanks, Man. It means a lot."

"Of course. You still going to that singles event for Valentine's Day tomorrow?"

"Nah. I'm just taking the day off and eating all the discounted chocolate the day after."

"Hell yeah! Discount chocolate is the best!...Are you sure you're ok though?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You're holding my hand."

You blinked and looked down only to raise your eyebrows. Your hand had  been by your plate. Not laid on Murata's hand. Immediately you pulled away from your friend. "I'm sorry. I must've moved it without thinking." 

He laughed and shrugged it off. "No worries. We always do that. Did you see the new ScorpionMan movie?"

Guess your weird luck wasn't over yet. 

Didn't help that Valentine's Day was tomorrow. But you had the day off so you were just going to sleep in, order take out, and just play video games all day! A perfect day for someone like you and then just buy a lot of discounted chocolate the next day. Saying goodbye to your friend, you couldn't help but feel like someone was watching you..but you shrugged it off as you walked all the way home. You didn't pay any attention to anyone as you got back to your apartment and got inside. Doing your normal night routine before going to bed and nodding off.

"Hey! Wake up!"

You snorted..but went back to sleep.

"OOOH! Come on! Wake up already!! We're already behind an hour!"

Something shoved your shoulder hard enough to turn you on your stomach. THAT woke you up with a snort and you pushed yourself up onto your arms. Blinking tired eyes as green eyes beamed at you.

"Oh finally! I was worried you'd never wake up!," a green eyed woman with long pink hair tied into braids smiled widely at you. "Do you want breakfast first?"

....you slowly blinked. 

"Oh nevermind. We can get something to go so it'll be faster! First we need to get you up and ready for the day!" Out of nowhere she produced a long paper with a list written on it. "Our first stop is a speed dating event. It'll be fast and you might get a few people's numbers! Then there's a party your coworker is hosting. I know you got the day off but if you stay for a little bit you might connect with someone you already know! And who knows where that could lead?!" She threw her arms off in a positive cheerleader pose.

She continued to babble on about something as your tired self sat up and yawned before stretching out your back and rubbing at your face. Your tired mind didn't register the fully grown woman with two fluffy white dove wings fluttering from her back for a long time as she continued to babble on and gesturing at nothing.... Before you ever slowly blinked at her. And then the reality hit your tired mind.

THERE WAS A STRANGER IN YOUR HOME!!

The reality shocked you awake staring at her before you yelled scrambling back and falling off the bed. Your actions and the thud of your body hitting the floor made her pause and watch as you shot back up to your feet in a panic and grabbing the nearest thing  to arm yourself. Which happened to be your alarm clock. You grabbed it pulling your arm back like you were gonna throw a baseball at you and pointed with your other hand.

"WHO ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU IN MY APARTMENT?!"

She continued to blink at you before she gasped in realization. "OH MY GOSH!! I didn't introduce myself to you! HI!!" She waved an arm at you. "I'm Cupid and I'm here to find you that perfect soulmate!"

You stared at her. "...What?!"

"Don't worry! I know I haven't been able to get but on this day my powers are off the charts! I'll be able to find you a partner in no time!"

"...Ok..Did Murata put you up to this? Seriously who are you!? If you don't leave right now I'll call the police!" 

She squeaked out dropping the list before holding up her hands. "Wait, wait, wait! Please don't panic! I'm telling you the truth I swear!"

"Yeah right!"

"Look! I'll prove it to you!" In an instant her tiny fluffy wings snapped open and flapped rapidly. Your face fell in shock as she lifted three feet off the ground, twirled once, and then floated back down. "SEE?! I'm totally just here to help!"

....Clank-

The metal clock fell out of your hand as you continued to stare before you pointed at her. "You're-..." Your hands smacked your face. "This can't be real. I must have gone nuts!"

"NOPE!! Im real and here to save your love life!! I've tried to get it right for an entire year now but nothing I tried seemed to work. But I'm sure we'll have better luck today!"

.....Wait a second.

"Wait." You scowled. "You mean YOU'RE the one responsible for all the bad luck I've been having!?"

She paused blinking at your face before guilty tapping her fingers together. "W-Well...I wouldn't call it bad luck exactly."

"Do you know what you've put me through for the last year? Because of you my neighbor hates me!" You scowled harder crossing your arms. "And I lost so much money fixing things. Not to mention all the wasted money on all the spilt food. I still have scars on my lap from coffee burns!"

"Um..Well may-maybe bumping into people wasn't the best way to go about it-"

"Especially if they're already married or got a girlfriend!" You frowned harder at her puppy dog like face. "Why? Just-...Why have you been putting me through so much? You couldn't help anyone else?"

"Oh no. I could. But I saw how heartbroken you were last year after that nasty break up and I wanted to help. I don't why I haven't been having luck though. I'm supposed to help someone find love and you don't seem to love anything no matter how hard I try."

You blinked... before sighing and reaching out to facepalm. "Well that's where you're wrong. I do love things and people."

Immediately she literally up. "So you did find someone to love!?"

"Yes. Multiple people."

"Aw.~ A poly relationship!"

"Uh...No." She blinked as you gestured to her. "Hasn't it ever occurred to you that there's other kinds of love besides romantic? I can love someone and find fulfillment in loving my friends. My family. My pet cat. I still love all of them just as much as I would someone romantically."

Her eyes widened at you. "I..Never thought of that before."

"It's not that either. I have love for other things too. I love reading and going on walks and doing my other hobbies. I love my job. I love eating at my favorite restaurant. I love things. But most of all-" You pressed a hand to your chest. "I love myself. And as long as I love myself, I'll be perfectly fine. There's so much to love than just the overrated romantic aspect of it. Don't you think?"

She stood there for a long moment thinking before nodding. "You're right. I just never thought of it that way." She frowned like a kicked puppy again. "Now I feel really bad about everything I put you through. I'm so sorry."

"Hey. It's all good. Just promise me you won't push me into anyone again."

She giggled and nodded happily. "I promise!"

"Good...Hey. While you're here, do you wanna play a video game with me?"

[blainesebastian]

missin' you

ship: austin butler x female reader rating: NC-17, NSFW word count: 2,576 summary: anon request "more jealous austin" warnings: none but def check the rating notes: this took on a slightly more possessive note, rather than jealous--still fun though :) taglist: @stylespresleyhearted, @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief

Here's the thing about being with Austin for three years, you know what makes one another tick. What you both love, what you both hate, especially what buttons to press. It's a long time filled with history and too many emotions to count. You've had moments where you didn't think you two were going to make it, stuff that's pushed you apart. But you always end up coming back together stronger than ever. You've been lucky like that.

There's chemistry with Austin that you've never felt with anyone else—the pull is undeniable. He drives you crazy in the very best way and that whirlwind makes your head spin. You love him, even though there are moments you want to pull your fucking hair out.

But you suppose that’s exactly what love is half the time.

--

You let out a soft sigh as you push the door to the bar open with your shoulder, wandering in on a busy night, eyes scanning to look for some space at the counter. You roll your head to the side, massaging the side of your neck as you squeeze past a few college kids yelling about shots. In retrospect, you probably should have chosen a slightly quieter place, a headache starting to brew at the back of your skull that isn’t being helped by loud music and stale beer but…

This is your shared bar and it’s somehow comforting to be here—the first date you ever had was here, and so many times after that. Magic space maybe. The last time you spoke with Austin on the phone, things were a bit short—he’s stressed from working, you’re stressed from not seeing him. You’re not about to pull the ‘girlfriend’ card, whining about spending time with eachother even though that’s exactly what you want to talk about.

You eye a girl at the end of the bar getting up and quickly take her spot before someone else can, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you settle onto the barstool.

“Lemme guess, bourbon on the rocks?”

You turn and look to your right, Austin leaning his elbows along the bar, already a drink in front of him. Your mouth opens a little, eyes traveling down the long planes of his back in a maroon Henley, hugging his muscles perfectly. He’s paired it with black jeans and honestly? it’s not fair. You’re surprised you didn’t even notice him before you sat down.

You lick your lips and fix your purse around your shoulder, tugging your dress up a little because it’s twisted awkwardly around your thighs. You doesn’t say anything for a moment before you nod and Austin waves down the bartender to give him your order.

“Funny running into you here.”

He smiles just a little, his eyes tracing over your curves down the dress; he doesn’t have to use words to tell you that he likes it. You swallow, your cheeks flushing and you hate that he’s so capable of taking you apart without even touching you.

“Well this is our bar, isn’t it?”

A soft laugh slips out from your throat and you look at the drink set in front of you, blush working its way to the back of your neck. “I’m pretty sure when I said that I was really drunk.”

He hums and lifts his glass of whiskey to take a small sip, teasing around his tone, “So you didn’t mean it, or?”

You roll your eyes, your hand wrapping around your glass of bourbon. You take a small sip and let the alcohol roll down your throat, a heated grip, soothing as it settles in your stomach. Whatever you’re about to say is drowned out by an extremely drunk guy bumping into you from behind. You know that the bar is crowded and it was bound to happen sooner or later but you hate that it’s enough to jostle your drink in your hand, liquid spilling over the edge onto your dress.

You gasp and the guy looks over his shoulder, laughs, and then gets manhandled by Austin who shoves him further down the bar. He quickly hands you some napkins so you can pat yourself dry, slightly distracted by the fact that the drunk guy comes back with his chest puffed out like he’s going to do something about it.

All Austin has to do is stand up from the bar stool, encroaching into your space a little as his one hand settles on the edge of the bar and the other dangles next to his side, fingers flexing. You look up at him as his chest brushes against your shoulder, a smile pulling on the edges of his mouth but you understand his body language well enough to know that he’s not amused.

And just like a shadow passing over the other guy’s face, he clears his throat and sinks back, apologizing to you in one quick word before making his way down the bar. You feel heat crawl underneath your skin as Austin sits back down and orders you another drink since the one that spilled is pretty much empty.

“You good?” He asks and you chew on your lower lip because yeah you’re more than good and nods your head.

Once again, you’re captivated by that side to Austin that’s a little bit rough, a little bit possessive and you can’t help but admit that even with this unspoken conversation hanging in the air? It’s nice to feel him express that towards you because if anything, he’s always been more telling with his touch rather than what he says.

You clear your throat and sit a little further back onto your stool, opening your legs just slightly before running a hand down the fabric of your dress which sits at the top of your knees. This is probably a bad idea, but you can’t seem to stop it once it’s entered your mind—and say something that’s going to very deliberately push Austin’s buttons.

“I want to finish our conversation from the other night,” Austin takes a sip of his whiskey, a soft crease appearing between his eyebrows before he realizes what you’re saying. “We’ve been together for three years and lately we’re not seein’ one another enough.”

His eyes scan over you like he’s somehow missed something important, his hand coming down to rest on your knee. “We’re seein’ one another right now.”

And there it is again, something electrically charged in the way he implies that little bit of sass, it reaches into your stomach and squeezes.

“No,” You says quickly and presses your knee just a little towards him so his hand moves. Austin’s eyes snap down to the action, his fingers now curled along your inner thigh and it takes him a moment to piece together what’s going on—

But once he figures it out? His gaze looks back up at you, filled with darkened amusement and he leans a little closer before picking up his whiskey glass with his other hand.

“I’m talking about real dates, real time spent,” You continue, your thumb running along the condensation of your own glass when the bartender brings you another. “Not shoving whatever we can into forty-five minute bar drinks.”

It’s always been amazing to you how calm and collected Austin can be; whether it’s during an interview, or a meeting, placing his whole being in front of a camera, ready to be someone else—and now it’s sneaking his hand up your dress in a public place.

His expression is unchanging, like he’s discussing the weather when he asks, “Oh, we don’t like those?” He asks, a soft smile tugging the corners of his mouth, “No time well spent?”

You’re about to reply to him but his hand moves quickly, the cool contrast of the ring on his finger making a shiver course down your spine. It’s almost surreal, doing this in a public bar—this is something you and him have never done before…and the concept is unbelievably thrilling. Your hips move forward, just a little, Austin’s fingers grazing the outline of your underwear against already moist flesh and the words get stuck very literally in your throat.

“You gonna answer me, or?” His voice is against the shell of your ear, raspy in a way that turns you on even more. And god, you don’t even care what you’re talking about anymore. Dates, no dates—who the fuck cares?

You clear your throat and pick up your glass of bourbon, trying to act natural, taking a slow sip and replying with a soft ‘no’ because that’s all you can manage. I want more, you want to say…but have no idea how to say it.

“That’s too bad…m’really beginnin’ to like these bar dates.” Austin licks his lips and hums, staring straight ahead like he’s not teasing your clit through the outside of your underwear.

He’s too good at this, you realize, like his hands were made for this. Like all he knows how to do is take you apart piece by piece, ripping at the seams and sewing you back up with love and care. Drives you absolutely crazy, how much you crave him, how much you love wrapping yourself up in him.

That’s why at the end of the day, you know both of you are going to be okay together.  

You open your legs a little more, the fabric of your dress soft and wide at the bottom, allowing you to do it without becoming too noticeable. Still, it’s funny, the way you feel like everyone’s eyes are on the two of you but a quick glance around tells you that no one notices—which just makes heat pound faster at your center, Austin’s fingers finally slipping inside your underwear.

You nearly choke on your own tongue, coughing a moment before taking a sip of your drink and Austin smirks—the bastard, sliding his one finger inside of you and pausing so it doesn’t overwhelm you. How thoughtful. Your cheeks are flushed and your breathing is a little heavy, you can feel it, your paranoia making you re-position your purse so it’s over your lap even though the bar is dark and loud and no one gives a shit about you or him.

The bartender approaches you two with a menu, offering Austin a small smile, “Did you guys want any food? Kitchen’s closing up.”

He takes the menu like he actually cares, pursing his lips together as he scans the appetizer list. “I dunno, you want food, babe?”

Of course, of course he’s really going to make you answer, looking over at you with an innocent expression as his finger circles your clit. “I uh—” You glance at the menu but the words on the page don’t even register. Fuck you’re…

You roll your hips forward and makes it look like you’re shifting positions on the stool, Austin giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response, his finger picking up speed as heat starts to boil over inside of you.

“No, I’m not hungry.” You says quickly, running a hand over the back of your neck.

“I think we’re good.” Austin agrees, handing the menu back to the bartender, who’s giving you a once over.

“Sweetie, you look a little flushed, you want some water?”

A whine most definitely sneaks its way out of your lips but luckily you think the bar is too loud to really make it out and you suddenly sit up straight as pressure builds and builds, your hand coming down on Austin’s wrist and squeezing—hard—

“I’m fine, drank this a little too fast, I think. I’m going to splash some water onto my face.”

His hand slips free out from under your dress, not even looking at him as wobbly legs take you away from the bar and into one of single-stall bathrooms. Your feet are kind of sticking to the floor and it smells like stale beer and lemon soap and really, this is one of the last places you thought you’d find yourself in. You set your purse on the side, leaning against the sink and it doesn’t take him long to find you.

Austin sneaks inside and you watch him through the mirror, leaning against the door, his eyes equally trained on you. You turn, reach past him to lock the door and the moment it slips into place, your lips are on his.

You kiss him hard, Austin not wasting any time to pick you up and set you on the sink, his hand tearing your underwear off and throwing them to the side. His one hand clasps the side of your neck as your hands make work of his jeans, tugging them down and reaching inside to grip his cock.

He groans against the sensation, thrusting into your hand and you shift your hips so you’re closer to the edge of the sink. Austin moves his lips to your neck, suckling the skin there and a loud moan that you don’t try to hide slips from your lips as he slides inside you. Your clit is swollen and sensitive, your entire body aching for him to begin moving and he’s taking too fucking long—

“Please, Austin,” You don’t even care that you’re begging, fingers fisting the back of his shirt at his shoulders, “Please.”

He shushes you gently, arms wrapping around your back so that you’re as close to him as you can get before doing what you’ve asked. Unfortunately, because you’re so worked up, it doesn’t take you very long to cum—clenching down around him as you bury your face in his shoulder. Austin’s right behind you, thrusting until he loses it, his breathing rapid and heated against your neck.

He doesn’t pull out right away and instead presses your foreheads together, his hand cupping your cheek before your lips meet in a soft, intimate kiss. Someone banging their fist on the door that they’ve got to pee ruins the moment however and a giddy sort of laugh leaves your lips as you cover your mouth with your hand.

Austin smirks as he backs up, handing your underwear back with a few paper towels to clean yourself up before both of you inevitably have to unlock the door and leave the bathroom.

--

You walk out of the bar with your legs feeling like jello, not even remembering the conversation that took place on the stools to even continue but…once you get to Austin’s car, he gently turns you around to press you against the passenger door.

Smiling up at him, you kiss his jawline. Austin hums, cupping your cheek and kissing your cheekbone before, “You’re right,” He whispers, “We’re not seein’ one another enough.”

“You’re just sayin’ that because you’re drowning in endorphins,” You tease but god, you’re not gonna deny it feels good to hear.

“I mean that’s definitely part of it,” Austin grins, nuzzling your noses, “I’ll make more time for you—real dates, real time.” He coins, because apparently he was listening.

You smile, something bright and warm as you wrap your arms around his waist. Pressing yourself up on your toes, you kiss him. As wild and desperate your touches were in the bathroom, that’s how soft and loving your lips move now.

You suppose this, at the very least, is an upside of missing one another.

[in-death-we-fall]

Brothers Beyond

Slipknot may never fully recover from the passing of Paul Gray, but their imminent return to the stage at UK’s Sonisphere is going to be an act of catharsis for fans and band alike. Shawn ‘Clown’ Crahan and Joey Jordison open up to Hammer exclusively.

Words: Dom Lawson Pics: Steve Brown

Metal Hammer 218 - June 2011 (drive link)

Editor’s note: The dark lord speaks…

16 Gigantic Balls.

That’s what Slipknot had to have to get back in the saddle after the inestimable loss of Paul Gray last year, and judging by our breathtakingly candid interview this month, their appearance at Sonisphere this summer is going to be one for the history books. Slipknot’s return is nothing short of heroic, and we hope you’ll love reading Dom Lawson’s piece as much as we did putting it together.

But then Hammer’s always been about getting under the skin of things to bring you a depth and breadth of metal coverage that you won’t find anywhere else, and this issue’s packed with the kind of chest-swelling bravado that makes real metal bands tick. From Biff Byford’s frankly inspiring quest to defy trends and stick to his guns, to Mastodon’s rise from the depths of obscurity to become one of the world’s foremost lords of the riff, to our first glimpse of Iron Maiden simply fucking killing it on a world-tour that’s more like a global victory lap, Hammer is all about the sorts of tales that make the musicians we love as inspiring as the music that they create. Oh, and metal in… Botswana? The metal empire is truly growing at a staggering pace – be the first to read and read about it.

And as we barrel ever-closer to this year’s positively thrilling Golden God awards, we hope you’ll take the time to add your votes to the hundreds of thousands we’ve already received. It’s also your chance to win tickets to what’s sure to be the most ridiculously metallic award show in history. I mean really, Devin and Twisted Sister on the same night? Whollee. Fucking. Shiiiit! Just head to www.metalhammer.co.uk/goldengods to cast your vote and take a part in heavy metal history.

Before we kick off these headbanging proceedings, let’s take a moment to spare a thought for the late, truly great Scott Columbus, erstwhile Manowar drummer and an inspiration to any metalhead who’s ever felt their pulse quicken to the sound of a mighty drum. Our thoughts are with his friends and family in this difficult time. Horns at half mast.

STAY METAL..

Brothers Beyond

Slipknot may never fully recover from the passing of Paul Gray, but their imminent return to the stage at UK’s Sonisphere is going to be an act of catharsis for fans and band alike. Shawn ‘Clown’ Crahan and Joey Jordison open up to Hammer exclusively.

Words: Dom Lawson Pics: Steve Brown

When the news broke last December, you could hear the cheers of elation and sighs of relief from the hot streets of Rio de Janeiro to the sun-blistered stone of the Parthenon. Despite having endured an horrific year that had seen them reduced from a seemingly invincible nine-man wrecking crew to a wounded but dignified band of brothers, following the tragic death of founder member and bassist Paul Gray back in May, Slipknot announced that (sic) were going to return, headlining the Sonisphere festival at Knebworth this July and playing a handful of other prestigious dates. The events of 2010 unquestionably pulled the rug from underneath this seemingly unyielding band’s feet and plunged them into a period of mourning and destabilising uncertainty; the endless and often witless speculation of pundits and fans on the internet only adding to the sense that the Iowans’ rudder had fallen off, leaving them lost and directionless. In the end, those who were predicting the end of the Slipknot story looked very foolish. The end of Slipknot? Don’t be fucking ridiculous.

Four months on from that announcement, drummer Joey Jordison and percussionist and visual king Shawn ‘Clown’ Crahan, the other two parts of the unholy trinity of Des Moines miscreants who put the band together in the first place, are in a far more buoyant and defiant mood than many may have predicted after watching the heartbreaking press conference that followed Paul’s death. Speaking to Hammer as the wheels of progress start to grind into action, both men have plenty to say about the past, present and future of their band and, despite having barely spoken to the press since the passing of their friend, both are happy to answer the questions that fans have been dying to ask during those months of sorrow. First and foremost, we have to ask what prompted them to stage their comeback in Europe rather than at home in the US.

“If we were gonna return, why would we not go to Europe first?” states Joey. “It was the right decision at the right time. Europe’s always been amazing to us, especially the UK. I still remember our first show there, on December 13, 1999; I still have dreams about it! It was one of the biggest landmarks of our career so why not go back now? Slipknot is not going to die. It’s a lifeforce, man. With all the feelings and emotions and the passion of one of the people who really helped to start our band pushing us forward, this is how we start again.”

You always seem to have had a strong relationship with the UK; ever since the self-titled album came out in 1999 and UK metal fans immediately embraced what you were doing, arguably more so than in any other territory. Is the show at Knebworth going to be the most important of all?

“The show at Knebworth is going to be heavy, man,” says Shawn. “We thought Download was fuckin’ heavy in 2009, but this’ll be something else. I don’t even know how to describe it, because the UK kids know us, man. I remember the first show at the Astoria in ‘99. I walked into the Astoria and there was a kid in an orange jumpsuit and a clown mask, and he’d paid £85 to have the mask made so he could be me. I couldn’t believe it. I thought I’d achieved everything when I got to the UK; the UK totally gets us. That show will be the heaviest show on the tour by far. There’ll be a lot of tears that day.”

“The feeling right now between all the bandmembers is the same feeling we had when we first came to the UK,” adds Joey. “This is a special event. It’s not like being on tour. We’re doing this out of our hearts and out of respect for our band and mostly out of respect for our fans. This isn’t contrived, some list of tour dates. This is speaking directly to the UK and to Europe. This is not bullshit. People will be pleasantly surprised by what we’re bringing.”

One of Slipknot’s strengths has always been that they’ve been adept at presenting a united front to the world. Even though it’s always been apparent that this is a band full of wildly differing personalities, the whole point of Slipknot has often seemed to be the expression of a single, focused purpose, uniting band and audience in a grand outpouring of righteous anger and joyous energy. As a result, the last year has been a little unsettling for those observing the band, not least because for the first time it has been made plain that not everyone in Slipknot has been reading from the same tight-lipped, thoughtful page. In particular, frontman Corey Taylor has been making frequent public pronouncements that have carried a faint air of pessimism and negativity.

“Part of me is ready [to carry on with the band] and there’s a part of me that’s not,” he stated back in March. “I have a lot of trepidation about it. I don’t know how to feel. I know a lot of the guys in the band are trying not to show that side, and I can’t.”

In light of the fact that Slipknot had already announced their intention to return, thus strongly implying that the band could well continue beyond these few shows and make another record too, Corey’s comments, seem, at best, a little unhelpful. Do his publicly expressed doubts about the future of the band run deeper or is this simply a case of one man’s emotions leading him away from the general consensus?

“Well, I would get into a lot of trouble if I try to speak for people, so it’s important that you print it like I say it, and I’m saying that I’m not speaking for anybody except myself,” states Shawn, firmly but diplomatically. “But in my opinion the majority of people in the band need Slipknot, want Slipknot, have no doubt that Slipknot will continue. There may be people in the band who may have a harder time feeling what they’re experiencing and only they can get over that and only they can make themselves feel that way. Hopefully their feelings will work out, and that’s exactly what we’re doing, getting together to celebrate Paul’s life, his love for music, his love for Slipknot, his love for his fans.”

The last few years have been upsetting for rock fans, with numerous major figures passing away, leaving huge gaps that can never be filled. The loss of Paul resonated as loudly and powerfully as any, partly because he was such a talented and revered figure within the metal world, but also because Slipknot have always seemed to be impervious to the hazards that cause most bands to noisily disintegrate or feebly fizzle out, whether they be as trivial as ‘musical differences’ or as monumental as mortality itself. And yet, despite having been temporarily stopped in their tracks, few would bet against Slipknot roaring back into action at full strength and with renewed vigour when they hit the road again this summer. As another band appearing at Sonisphere this July once sang, “You cannot kill what doesn’t die…”

“It’s always been that way,” agrees Joey. “Our first tour was Ozzfest in ‘99 and we fuckin’ blew every other band off the fuckin’ stage, every night. It was not even a competition. It’s not like we were trying to beat anyone; we were just being ourselves. We toured with Coal Chamber and some other bands that year too, and I recall my friend Dez Fafara telling me that one guy from one of the other bands had looked at him when we were playing and said, ‘Can you see what we got ourselves into here?’ They tried to kick us off the tour, every band did. One show in Oklahoma City we couldn’t fit anything on the stage and they kicked us off the show and we still outsold every other band’s merch! That’s the strength of what we are when we’re together as a band. That’s not ego talking, it’s the truth. It is what it is, and I’m so happy and so fulfilled with everything we’ve done and everything that we’re gonna do.”

“A lot of people won’t know that we were done with All Hope Is Gone, and we were going to take a break like we do after every record,” says Shawn. “That’s why people love our band; we’re not trying to get off our label and make a bunch of shitty records and try to shove ‘em down fans’ throats. We take time off to get physically and spiritually sound, then we get bored and take what we’ve learned from where we’ve been and we apply it to right now and we get busy with art and music, then we come and kick the living shit out of you. That’s what we do.”

Just as the trials of life can never kill a band with Slipknot’s fighting spirit, neither can you replace the irreplaceable; a fact that made the band’s decision to fight another day such a painful one. There from the beginning, Paul made such an invaluable contribution to every aspect of Slipknot’s music, methodology and rise to glory that the idea of someone else stepping into his jumpsuit and mask was simply unthinkable. But there are always ways a means to circumnavigate even the toughest problems, and so the news that Slipknot have recruited Donnie Steele, a member of a very early lineup of the band and a close friend and musical collaborator of Paul’s, to perform bass duties on these upcoming dates has removed a great deal of disquiet from conversations about the future.

“I’m glad you’re speaking with me today,” notes Joey. “You have called me on the first day that I play with my new bass player. I’m starting with Donnie tonight. I start working with him first and we have over 35 songs that we have to rehearse tonight! Ha ha ha! When we headline in the UK it’s gonna be a longer set, so we have to go over a bunch of stuff.”

What made you go with Donnie?

“It was an easy decision,” he says. “I don’t want to talk about my brother’s death, but once it happened, our phones all lit up with all these guys from other bands. I took it at a disrespect level. I was like, ‘No, no, no!’ and it just came to me one night. I woke up from a dream about the early Slipknot days, before it was even known as Slipknot. Donnie was our first guitar player. We only had one guitar player but we had three drummers. You couldn’t even hear the guitar before we hired Josh [Brainard, Slipknot guitarist from 1995-1999]. So I called Shawn and I said, ‘This is the only thing that makes sense…’ Slipknot is a family. It’s a brotherhood. When we started together, Donnie was there. The last time I saw Paul was when I was with Rob Zombie in Iowa; Donnie was there and he and Paul were writing a new record for [pre-Slipknot metal project] Body Pit. I said to Shawn, ‘He’s part of our family!’”

“The gentleman who’s filling in for Paul was very, very good friends with Paul,” Shawn adds. “They come from a school of death metal and black metal, both very technical players. Recently Paul had hooked up with him and they were finally going to do their side-project. Paul was a guitar player and he attacked the bass like he did the guitar, and that’s exactly what Donnie’s gonna do. So he’s bringing more integrity than any freakin’ person who ever thought they had a chance of playing bass in something as serious as Slipknot. I laughed in the face of anybody who thought they had a chance!”

There’s been a lot of speculation about whether Donnie will be performing alongside the rest of the band onstage or whether he will be behind the drum riser out of sight. Can you confirm or deny any of this?

“We still have to figure out what we wanna do,” says Joey. “Will he be behind me? Right now, yes. In the future, I don’t know. Right now, he’s behind me or right next to me and he’ll be watching my every move and I’ll be watching him but it’s not going to take away from my performance, because by the time we hit the stage it’s going to be easy.”

“I can’t predict the future, but I know right now there’s no new mask, no new coveralls, no new number,” says Shawn. “There’s eight guys on stage and the first guitar player we ever had filling in for Paul, because there’s always gonna be nine.”

Clearly there can be no upside to the loss of such a loved and respected figure, but the last year has at least enabled the music world to finally acknowledge Paul as the influential and inspirational creative dynamo buzzing tirelessly away at the heart of Slipknot. It has always been left primarily to Joey, Shawn and Corey to communicate with the press and although Paul was not averse to doing interviews, his relative anonymity within such a populous band meant that he was able to exert his vast influence on Slipknot’s music and ethos away from the media spotlight. Now, of course, it’s apparent that his death has left a chasm inside this band’s furious heart and that these forthcoming live performances present a huge emotional challenge to those who mourn him, both on the stage and in front of it. Joey and Shawn are clearly still coming to terms with the loss of their friend, both close to tears when his name inevitably comes up in our conversations. For Shawn in particular, Slipknot’s return to the stage is all about paying respects and doing what needs to be done.

“Slipknot is more dangerous now than ever and I have the fuel known as Paul Dedrick Gray in my blood,” he says. “I’ve been here from the beginning, when Paul recognized my ability as an artist and said, ‘Just do it, man! Let your thoughts out and don’t let anyone stop you from what you feel and what you think!’ So now I’ve got his blood boiling in my veins. I’m not just playing for Clown; I’m playing for him, for his wife and daughter, his legacy, his love for the band, his love for music. I’m not discrediting anybody. We wouldn’t be where we’re at without everybody. We wouldn’t be here without Corey, Sid, Jim, Craig, Mick, Chris, all of us. But in the beginning, there was this idea that was created by Paul and I. He wrote the kind of music with Joey that just made me want to put my face through glass. I helped start one of the biggest metal bands in the world and I’m not necessarily a metalhead. I’m an alternative dude or an indie dude, whatever the fuck that means. I was on my way to being like Andy Warhol or something! I gave it all up to be in this band called Slipknot and I love it and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Another major issue is whether or not Slipknot will ever make another studio album. Paul wrote a lot of the band’s music and was an integral part of the creative process on all four of their albums to date, but Slipknot have no shortage of creative brains to tap for fresh ideas. Corey added a dash of fuel to the fires of confusion when he stated recently that “there’s such a huge piece missing now, a piece that the fans can’t even understand. I mean, Paul always was that unconscious, almost lynchpin that held everything together. And he had such a great mind for the music that we created that without him, I don’t see it happening very soon, let’s put it that way.”

Given that it’s clear that at least one member of the band has doubts about the future, can fans truly be secure in the knowledge that their heroes will continue beyond these festival appearances and as far as a new album in the future?

“That’s the most important question you’ve asked so far,” says Joey. “We made this decision [to play shows this summer] out of respect for the music that we made and out of respect for our friend but mainly for our fans. Why would we not continue? It’s stupid to even think it. There are a lot of naysayers and all that shit. In the Slipknot world it’s blasphemy to say we might not continue.”

“Yes, I always knew we’d be back together,” insists Shawn. “Yes, I always thought we’d make another record. When? I don’t know. Is it being talked about? No, it is now. When would it ever be? I have no idea because I’m not a fortune teller, but in my heart of heart of hearts, and with Paul on my shoulder, kicking me in my face day after day, I absolutely believe there’ll be another record. How could there not be?”

Their unerring ability to sing from a single song sheet has been one of the biggest factors in Slipknot’s enduring appeal. From humble beginnings in Des Moines to their status as one of the biggest metal bands on the planet, these men prize collective focus above virtually anything else, and so it has been strange to see signs of hesitancy emerge in recent times. It’d be more than a little tacky to speculate whether Corey’s seemingly disruptive remarks about the future, and his bandmates’ self-evident but skilfully stifled testiness, are merely evidence that the grieving process affects different people in different ways, but it is also undeniably true that the internet age has made it more or less impossible for any high-profile rock band to conduct their affairs in private. The much-debated possibility that Corey is to be announced as Velvet Revolver’s new singer is a great example of this: what would normally be dismissed as idle gossip takes on a level of credibility far beyond what the known facts would seem to deserve. Social networking is the new grapevine, it seems, and Joey is not impressed.

“The internet can fuck off!” he barks. “I have an official MySpace and Facebook, but all that bullshit? I don’t use it. If you want to talk to me as a person, the internet is the worst thing possible. I do get it. Maybe it makes sense if you don’t have a life of your own. But that’s why i don’t use it. I have lovely people around me all the time and I’m blessed with everything I’ve been able to accomplish. I only have MySpace and Facebook to block people from imitating me. I don’t even have a Twitter account. But you know what? If I need to find where a good Mexican restaurant is, I can log on and find it. So the internet does have its uses, I guess! Ha ha!”

Bullshit and hyperbole will continue to make the world go round, but for now at least, all that remains is to get very, very excited indeed about seeing Slipknot again at Knebworth this summer. Anyone who witnessed the band tearing Download a collection of new arseholes in 2009 will be able to confirm that there are few bands more capable of commanding a festival headlining slot, and it goes without saying that the UK will welcome them back with open arms and pounding hearts, but our mounting excitement at the thought of Slipknot headlining a major UK festival again is undeniably tempered by a faint air of nervousness about the backdrop of grief and uncertainty that has coloured the band’s canvas over the last 12 months. One way or another, this is going to be extremely emotional, isn’t it?

“I don’t think any fan ever thought they were never gonna see Paul again,” says Shawn. “So it’s our duty to being it all together; when I walk on stage in tears, there’ll be 10,000 other people in tears with me and we’re going to celebrate in the salvation of music and what brings us together.”

“These gigs are not a job,” avows Joey. “This is more of a cleansing. All of us are going to have the most incredible shows of our career. That’s it. I’m not saying this to promote this. But this is going to be worth the wait. Of course there are gonna be teary eyes and maybe for some of us, behind the masks, but are they gonna be sad tears? No, they’ll be happy. We’re going to be there and we’re going to watch the audience explode and what better celebration could you ask for? That’s all it needs to be. Let’s just fucking rock!”

Slipknot play Sonisphere, July 8-10, 2011

“We’re gonna die for rock ‘n roll!”

Slipknot’s drummer was in Tokyo with his other band, Murderdolls, when the recent earthquake hit Japan, wreaking devastation and leading to many thousands of deaths. Here he recounts his experience for the first time…

“I was doing an interview and a photoshoot in this really rickety building when the quake started,” he recalls. “We’d already felt a smaller quake the day before, but when this one really hit it was throwing me against the walls. My tour manager Roger grabbed me saying, ‘Fuck this! We don’t need this…’ and he threw me over his shoulder and got me out of there! Everyone was trying to get out and we were the last band to leave Japan. We were like, ‘Fuck it!’ We were gonna stay and if we die, we’re gonna die for rock ‘n’ roll! That’s the Murderdolls’ mentality. We couldn’t get back to our hotel rooms because the elevators were completely fucked, so we went and stayed in the bar and got shitfaced. In the end we got evacuated. It was like, ‘If you want to make it back to the US, you need to go now otherwise you’re gonna be stuck here!’ So we finished our pints and got to the airport and, luckily, got on the airplane. Right after that is when the nuclear reactor was heating up. It was a big, intense experience. It was one for the books, I tell you…”

Shawn Crahan tells Hammer about his new band…

Black Dots Of Death

Describe your new band… “It’s a rebirth of Clown, a second coming, and it’s dangerous. It’s the next level. It’s a mix of many genres. I’m done making soft music and now I’m angry again and everything’s surrounded by death and the idea of ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ There’s a moral behind everything; it’s deep.”

What appeals to you about playing the drums? “I’ve played drums since I was eight years old, man. When you see me play drums, that’s the most personal me you’ll ever see. I don’t wear a mask. No one plays as hard as me, man.”

Do you have plans to take Black Dots Of Death out on the road? “The record is out now. Everything you need to know, you can find at www.theblackdotsofdeath.com. This is art, man, and it’s fuckin’ dangerous. But my biggest priority in 2011 is to get together with Slipknot. There will be Black Dots shows, but my biggest priority is to celebrate Paul’s life.”

Will he or won’t he?

The rumour mill has been working overtime as speculation mounts about Corey Taylor apparently becoming the new singer in Velvet Revolver. Or not. Here’s what’s been said so far…

“We recorded a bunch of songs with Corey. I think he’s fucking great – he’s the best voice of a new generation and I’d be proud to do anything with him.” [Duff McKagan, March 2011]

“He’s a guy we’ve had our eye on, but the timing wasn’t right. Weiland was available. He was out of Stone Temple Pilots. It wasn’t like we went and said, ‘Hey, dude…’ He came to us, like, ‘Hey, I’m out of my band. I’ve got time. Let’s do this.’ And it’s a similar situation with this individual.” [Sorum to billboard.com, December 2010]

“[The new singer is] a little younger, a little stronger, a little heavier rock’n’roll than we are.” [Sorum to Noisecreep, December 2010]

“A couple of people have said one thing or another, but it’s been blown out of proportion. I’ve made no comment on that one.” [Slash, February 2011]

“It’s gonna be interesting going into the third record because we’re gonna have a whole different personality as a vocalist. Chances are it’s gonna be a lot heavier than anything Velvet Revolver has done so far.” [Sorum to artistdirect.com, January 2011]

“As soon as we got off the road from the last tour and parted ways with [singer] Scott [Weiland], we got together and wrote half a dozen really great, sort of heavy metal pieces of music. It’s a lot heavier than what Velvet Revolver has put out [in the past], so I’m dying to put out the quintessential Velvet Revolver record.” [Slash to MTV News, June 2010]

“To be continued! Ha ha ha!” [Corey Taylor to billboard.com after being asked directly about whether or not he is joining Velvet Revolver, January 2011]

[rallentando1011]

Somnambulant Soulmates (rise Donnie x gn reader)

rise Donnie x gn reader

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Word Count: 4873

Content: movie night, fight scene, brief text messages (it was a doozy to write but still really fun!)

Chapter Artwork: Here

Waking up before noon was a chore. 

Not necessarily because you stayed up late, also not because you forgot to set an alarm, but the combination of the two made last night’s sleep enticingly prisonlike. 

You only awoke when your bedroom seemed suspiciously bright, your rest suspiciously long. Having work at noon and not wanting to miss it, you shot up in bed, frantically padding for your phone in its place beside you.

Checking the time revealed that it was a comfortable while away from when you had to be at work, not even eleven yet.

Checking your telephone also revealed numerous notifications filling up the screen.

Not that it was odd for you to wake up to a bunch of text messages, but yeah, it was.

When you opened your phone, you saw that the group chat that had been made at April’s birthday party was the culprit.

Shoot. You’d almost forgotten that it even existed. Outside of the pictures from April’s party and a few memes, not much had been sent.

That was, until last night, apparently.

You scrolled to the top of the new messages, getting to work on reading through the slew of them awaiting you.

Today 1:58 AM

Leo: so I recognize that we’re all busy people/yōkai/mutants/unspecified, but we’ve got some free time tonight if you guys would be game for a movie night?

Mikey: Yeah baby! I’m SO down!

Leo: …

Leo: we’re the ones inviting people over so this was more for everyone else, you know?

Mikey: oh. right. knew that.

Today 3:17 AM

April: I’m game! After like seven because your girl has work :))

Donnie: Aren’t you on your fifth job this week?

April: Isn’t your forehead on its fifth inch?

Raph: f

Leo: f

Mikey: f

Today 4:23 AM

Casey: HECK YEAH, I’LL BRING SNAKCS.

Casey: *SNAKCN.

Sunita: You can do it Cass

Casey: **SNACKS!!!

Sunita: It’s a yes from me btw

Casey: Your sarcasm is not appreciated, goopy one.

Casey: Junior is with me right now. I hope you find it suitable that I have invited him along.

Leo: wait, Jr’s not in here? lemme add him rq

Leo added an Unknown number

Maybe Junior: A movie night sounds great! I’m assuming we already have plans to get pizza? If not, I’ll gladly pick some up.

Mikey: You /know/ we’ve got pizza covered, baby! All you need to do is show up

Maybe Junior: Sounds great!

As you caught up on the conversation, you thought about your schedule for the day. Sure, you had work, but only until six, and you didn’t have anything the next day. Some social interaction sounded nice, even if all of the people you were hanging out with all seemed to stay up until ungodly hours.

Today 10:48 AM

You: gosh dang are all of you nocturnal?

You: also yes, I’m absolutely down for a movie night! where at?

April: Remember that one patisserie we ate at in SoHo? Just meet me outside of there and I’ll lead you the rest of the way ;)

You: bet

With that, you rolled yourself off your mattress, slapped on some jeans, a shirt, beanie, fanny pack, boots, snagged some breakfast for the road, and started off on your way to work.

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

The day at work proved drudgerous.

Thankfully, nothing terrible happened, and you didn’t have many bad interactions with customers, but it was so painfully dull. It had been insipid, realistically, since April had left, but it provided a steady pay and got you by. Such is the life of a retail worker.

The boredom you experienced at work was quickly warped into excitement as your shift ended and your walk to meet with your best pal began.

After a brisk journey, you landed in front of the patisserie that you and April had visited only a few weeks prior. You scanned the area, grinning as your eyes landed on her leaning against the brick wall by the building’s entrance. No sooner than you noticed her, she did the same with you.

“Hey!” April waved you over.

“Hey!” you responded as you walked over to her, taking in the familiar area around you. Coffee shops, hot pot stops, standard commercial buildings and advertisements galore, but not many residences.

“Hey April, where do these pals of yours live anyways?” you asked, still surveilling the nearby edifices.

“Oh. About that…” she started, and you looked at her. 

She seemed nervous, almost.

“It’s fine if they live a while away. I could use the exercise.” 

She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth anxiously. So it wasn’t that.

“What is it?” you asked, the smile you had slowly draining from your face.

“It’s nothing bad, just- let me show you.”

April slipped around the corner and into a dim, adjacent alley while you trailed her like a confused sheep. When she stopped abruptly and looked at the ground, you came up beside her and followed her gaze.

You started rethinking everything that had brought you to this point as you both stared down a slightly ajar manhole.

“The sewers.”

“The sewers,” she confirmed grimly.

“No, you’ve got to be kidding right now. Wherever the hidden cameras-slash-film crew are, they can come out now…”  You paused. You didn’t truly expect anyone or anything to happen, but it sure would’ve made you feel better if it did. However, after a moment filled with the distant sounds of cars and people, you met her eyes again. “We’re really going in there?”

“Yep.”

“Does it not smell like, I don’t know, sewage?”

April snorted. “Oh, no. There are measures put in place to spruce the lair up. We’re talking industrial-grade air fresheners. I helped Donnie put ‘em up years ago.”

“... So it did smell?”

“Man, just get in the sewers!”

With that impetus, you cautiously helped her kick the cover askew, then open, and tentatively placed yourself on the first rung of a ladder built in a wall. Before you continued your descent, you narrowed your eyes at your companion.

“If this is some kind of trick, I swear-”

This time April didn’t indulge you with words. One sight of her deadpan sent you carefully yet swiftly working your way down into the sewers.

Despite being underneath the ground, it was still bright enough to see in front of you, see the rungs methodically moving up as you went down. You attributed your ability to see to the light creeping in through the entrance above, so when April followed you down and worked the cover back in place, you were immediately plunged into darkness.

“Woah, it’s, uh, a bit dark down here,” you called, definitely not clinging desperately to the ladder.

“Oh, right! You’re not really used to this,” April laughed lightly.

“You could say that.”

“Here.” After a moment, a bright light shone from above you. April’s flashlight. In the now illuminated cement structure, you looked up to see her flash you a smile. You mustered up an uneasy one back at her and crept the rest of the way down.

You almost collapsed in relief at being back on solid, albeit sewer-water-dampened, ground. At least it didn’t smell like sewage, just like she had said.

April landed beside you swiftly, giving you a nudge before bounding down a tunnel. “Come on. It’s this way!”

You sighed before coming up beside her.

“Once again, I feel I just need to ask for legal purposes, this isn’t an elaborate hoax or scheme for my demise, right?”

“I promise! Look, just relax.This’ll be fun!”

“Alright.”

You two meandered through the tunnels in a comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the echoes of your steps and the constant drips of faraway water. With how many chambers you had moved through, you contemplated confirming that she knew the way, but the confidence with which she walked convinced you well enough.

Eventually, a light came into view at the end of the passageway, and you could faintly discern the sound of indistinguishable chatter.

“Right here,” April exulted, jogging up to the exit and stepping out into the light. 

You tailed her. As you drank in the scene around you, it was drastically contrary to what you would expect of a sewer dwelling.

The room had the spaciousness and height of a gothic church, though the decor was certainly less ornate. In lieu of flying buttresses or stained glass, the architecture in the lair consisted of graffitied walls, string lights and drainage pipes, which presumably led to more rooms. For an underground home, it was very bright and comely. The most notable feature of the room, however, was the huge skate ramp in the center of the room, the deck almost reaching the ceiling.

“See? Not a slaughterhouse.” April grinned.

You playfully raised a brow. “The night’s still young.”

You took to surveying the ground floor for anyone else.

Off to the side of the grand atrium stood Raph, Casey, and some kid who you’d never seen before. You could only presume him to be that ‘Junior’ character from the group chat.

Well, maybe you weren’t giving him enough credit. He wasn’t a kid, per say, as his built physique and the stubble on his chin made evident, but his bright eyes and how exuberantly he spoke to Casey accentuated his youthful appearance.

“Hey y’all!” April called as you walked over to the three.

Raph and Casey both greeted you with enthusiastic grins, Casey additionally giving you a light slug on the arm.

The new one, however, had a much more interesting reaction. His eyes widened upon seeing you, but maybe he just wasn’t expecting to see a new person. Reasonable, you supposed.

You decided to put your best foot forward, offering a hand shake and your name.

After a moment of just staring at you blankly, he blinked himself back into the present and shook your hand firmly.

“Casey Jones. Nice to see- or, meet, you,” he smiled widely.

“So you’re Casey?” you looked Cassandra mischievously. “And you’re Casey? Are you two related or is that just a coincidence?”

All ongoing conversation stopped for all of them to exchange a look.

April cleared her throat. “Well, about that-”

They proceeded to tell you the craziest story you’d heard in your life. They detailed how when, a couple years back, the Krang invaded and ransacked the city, the kid before you had been portaled from the future by older versions of your current turtle friends. The icing on top of the cake? Casey, the new one, is Cassandra’s son.

“What in the back to the future- you’re from the future?! Dude, you are from the future. That’s the most- I don’t want to say ridiculous but- it’s the wildest thing I’ve ever heard. Did you know me? Ooh, am I cool? I hope I’m cool. Also, no pressure to answer anything, just know that this is literally the most excited I’ve been all day.”

“Yeah, I knew you,” he nodded exuberantly with a bittersweet gleam in his eye. “The coolest commander I ever knew, aside from Commander O’Neil.”

“Commander?! Man, that’s wicked! Sorry if bringing this stuff up is weird or sad.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured. “It is odd seeing you, but I’ve gotten used to it. And it’s sort of nice.”

You smiled warmly at him just as the others’ conversation caught your attention. Casey mentioned something about everyone already being in the projector room, then April brought something up about getting this movie night on the road. You couldn’t agree more.

“So, should we head over there?” you proposed.

“We’ll grab the snacks and meet up with you!” Raph flashed you a toothy grin before smirking at Casey. Original Casey, not Jr. “Race you to the kitchen!”

“You’re going down, reptile!”

The two bounded off. You, April, and other Casey stood stupefied.

“Us too, future boy!” April challenged before breaking into a sprint after Raph and Casey. Casey Jr. shook his head lightheartedly before racing after them.

Just as you thought you’d be left standing like a deer in headlights until they returned, two giggling figures emerged from the sewer tunnel you’d come through, one blue, one orange.

“Hey Mikey, Leo!” you waved

“What’s up?” Leo smiled.

“Not much- woah!” you exclaimed. Mikey had already ran up to you and was currently squeezing your ribs in a tight hug.

“Hi,” he said, grinning widely.

“Hello.” You patted his back once, twice, awkwardly. “I think everyone’s either grabbing snacks or already went to the projector room, wherever that is.”

“We’ll show you the way!” Mikey was practically bouncing. “We’re gonna watch that new JJ movie! It’s a sequel to Pluto Vacation Part 77, but a prequel to Part 4,” Mikey explained exuberantly as he all but dragged you toward the projector room.

“Arguably the worst JJ movie, but let’s not delve into that right now,” Leo muttered.

“JJ?” you slanted your head.

“Jupiter Jim!” Mikey clarified. He let out an audible gasp and stopped walking when he saw you were still confused. “You don’t know Jupiter Jim! Omigosh! Wha- How? I thought I knew you!” The box turtle shook your shoulders.

“Easy, Miguel,” Leo moved Mikey’s hands off of your arms. “It’s not their fault they’re uneducated.”

Your stupefied expression soured. “I was about to thank you for coming to my defense, but I think you just made it worse.”

“Shhh, it’s alright. Don’t you fret, we’ll get you fixed up in about 800 films, reboots, and comics. Onward!” The two brothers started back up on their way to the movie.

“What? How many?” you asked, exasperated. You did not have the time nor attention span for that.

Leo and Mikey continued walking with you tagging along. The red eared slider just shrugged. “Chill, we’re not getting through all of them tonight. We’ll marathon as many as we can, though. I think the one we’re starting on works well enough chronologically.”

“I’ll take your word on it.”

You entered the projector room. The only person who was currently there was Sunita, though you almost didn’t recognize her in her yōkai form at first. You’d only seen it one other time at April’s, and you had lost your mind when she turned into a sludgy green puddle of googlyschmootz. You’d thought that she’d spontaneously combusted, but nope. That was just her insanely cool true form.

She was seated on the ground, eagerly staring at the projection of the menu screen of the Jupiter Jim movie on the wall. Behind her sat an orange, worn out sofa, and to the right of it was a gray bean bag chair.

“Sunita!” Mikey exclaimed, ran up to her, and took a seat beside her while Leo covered himself with a blanket on the couch and scrolled on his phone. “How long have you been watching the menu screen?”

“An hour,” she said nonchalantly, still not daring to take her eye off of it. “The score is just so good! I physically cannot look away.”

You squinted. “But you don’t need to look to hear the- nevermind.” You settled down in front of the bean bag, using the chair as support for your back.

Once you were seated, the sound of footsteps fastly approaching signaled the arrival of more people. 

Casey ran in first, bags of popcorn tucked under her arms, followed by April, with chips, Casey Jr., soda that certainly wouldn’t explode once it was opened, and finally Raph, arms full of candy. All of them were out of breath; you inferred they raced here like they had earlier. Casey boasting about her superior skills proved your hypothesis.

Raph muttered something about having the most to carry as he sulkily plopped down on the couch. Casey landed between him and Leo, still smiling victoriously. 

Casey Jr. set down the ticking time bomb that was the carbonated beverages he had sprinted through the lair with on the ground beside him as he took a seat by Mikey.

April clicked a couple of finger guns your way and sat beside you. She also decided to use the bean bag chair to rest against.

You were about to propose starting the movie before you realized someone was missing.

“Wait, where’s Donnie?” you whispered to April.

“Probably in his lab. Push comes to shove, we send Mikey to sucker him out of his room.”

“Is the lab here?”

“Yep. Just on the other side of the lair.”

“I might be reconsidering my whole stance on the whole ‘living in the sewers’ thing.”

April laughed lightly.

Suddenly, you felt the bean bag you two were resting against gain another commuter, the action bouncing you both.

You tipped your head back, meeting eyes with a nonchalant Donatello resting behind you.

“Personally, I recommend it. Technically not tax evasion if the government can’t find you,” he shrugged.

“It also helps that they don’t know you exist,” April jabbed lightheartedly.

“For legal reasons, I’m gonna pretend I heard none of that,” you averted your gaze jokingly, slowly tipping your head back down.

You heard your companions snicker, then joined them in their laughter. 

Soon, once Raph saw that everyone was present, he hit the buttons on the projector until the movie started playing.

While the movie opened up on, you guessed it, Pluto, snacks and drinks began to proliferate throughout the room and even eventually made their way to you three on the bean bag.

The movie was fairly obviously made on a low budget, as the shoddy camera direction and presence of a boom microphone for five minutes showed, but it was self aware about its campiness. Sure, the lore and character relationships were an absolute cluster, but it was still entertaining. Plus, the prosthetics used for the aliens looked phenomenal, and some scenes were genuinely eerie.

All in all, it was an enjoyable watch, made even more so by April’s occasional humorous comment and Donnie researching behind the scenes facts when something seemed intriguing to him.

As the credits rolled, you took a big stretch.

“That was a bit creepier than I thought a Jupiter Jim movie would be. Consider my timbers, shivered,” you admitted.

“I thought we reserved ‘shivering timbers’ for nautical excursions, same as ‘ahoy,’” Donnie commented. Man, he could really work sarcasm into any conversation. It was impressive, really.

“Hey, you can just drop it now, Don-Tron… That ship’s sailed.” Leo smirked.

“Wow. Boat puns. Stooping low today.” Donnie crossed his arms.

“Please, if we were stooping low, we’d bring up your internet history,” Mikey jumped in on the shenanigans. “But I’d much rudder keep this civil.”

“...” 

“Continuing on,” Raph changed the subject. “I guess Pluto Vacation IV makes the most logical sense?”

Donnie and April cheered. Mikey and Leo groaned. 

“Hey!” April exclaimed. “We agreed not to trash on each other’s favorites.” She then gestured to you. “Plus, they’ve never seen it, so we’re doing this. Got it?”

“Fine,” Leo and Mikey spoke unison, the former rolling his eyes as Raph placed in the DVD and started the film.

The film started, once again, with a killer score, just as Sunita had said. Maybe she had a point about not being able to peel your vision from the screen-

Suddenly, a horrendous beeping noise shrieked from right behind your head, causing you to snap your head around immediately. 

“What is that horrible- oh wait that’s me.” Donnie tapped on the tech gauntlet on his forearm and made the alarm cease. At the same time, someone paused the movie.

“What was that?” you exclaimed, cautiously uncovering your ears.

“Hmm,” the turtle hummed. “Seems like we’ve got a 2100-47 in progress.”

Somewhere in the distance, you could hear crickets chirp.

“Oh, right, no one reads the manual. Art heist, going on right now, Hudson Street.” 

You looked around the room, wondering what the heck any of that meant, but everyone else seemed determined, ready, like superheroes.

“Wait wait wait, what just happened? What was that look?” Silence met you. “Wait, you guys are trying to fight crime? Right now? Seriously?”

You looked to April, who only smirked in response.

“Dang you guys are not slash j right now,” you remarked, gaining a small laugh from the soft shell behind you. “Do I have to stay here or..?”

“I don’t think so,” April spoke up.

“There are plenty of us. What could happen?” Leo pitched in.

“Besides, in the future, you were always able to hold your own,” Casey Jr. beamed. Okay, if you had him backing you up, the guy who knew a future version of you, you couldn’t let him down.

“Alright. I’m ready. At the very least, I’ll be moral support,” you shrugged.

“That’s the spirit!” Casey shouted. “Now let’s go!”

Just like that, your peaceful movie night turned into all of you rushing through the main room of the lair, those with weapons and masks grabbing their respective tools, and climbing up to the surface.

Immediately, Raph, Casey, and Sunita began scaling the rooftops in the direction of Hudson. Leo used his blades to form an electric blue portal, leaving a tingling sensation in the air after he leapt through. Mikey took out a chained instrument and, after latching it to lampposts, swung through the night. The mechanical shell on Donnie’s back converted into a jet pack-adjacent piece of technology with a seat, allowing for him and April to whirl off in the direction of the fighting.

You stood still. You had nary a clue what to do or where to go or- just about anything, really.

You looked over at the only person still beside you and wondered how Casey Jr. planned to get over there.

He looked back at you brightly and stepped beside you.

“Hold on!” Before you could question why, the youth revealed a grappling hook-esque contraption on his wrist, tucked the other arm around you, aimed at a lamppost, and sent you two soaring through the air.

You instinctively clung to the poor lad, who was somehow managing his own and your weight. The wind lashed at your face harshly as you dipped and soared, swinging off of every suitable lamppost or rooftop you passed.

As soon as you started to feel ill, you two landed on solid ground in an alleyway. However, the dread from that was quickly replaced by what you saw there.

Numerous goons were there, some loading crates of presumably stolen items into a large vehicle. The others were already engaged in fighting off your friends.

Their faces seemed unnatural, borderline demonic, and the fact that all of the creatures  had the same exact face did not make it any less uncanny.

The Caseys and April were steadily beating them down with hockey sticks and a baseball bat respectively. Raph and Sunita had seemed to head straight for the truck to salvage the stolen art. Donnie, Leo, and Mikey appeared to be pure agents of chaos, distracting and fighting goons with any means necessary.

“Standard goons. We’ve so got this.” Leo confidently utilized his blades, trapping one of the enemy in particular in a loop of falling infinitely to dizzy them. You weren’t so sure. There were a lot of them, and you were almost getting taken out by your own side.

“Heads up!”

You barely had time to duck out of the way of Mikey’s weapon, a ball attached to chains that were literally on fire, as it whipped just over your head.

“Heads down would be more appropriate!” you called.

You stumbled forward in an attempt to catch your balance. You were barely able to prevent yourself from falling, but you managed to stay upright. No sooner than you steadied yourself, a low hum emitted from the space right in front of you. The air vibrated tensely; it reminded you of how Leo’s portal felt earlier, but that turtle in particular was already busy behind you.

Just as everything clicked in your brain, another portal tore through the air in front of you. This one was colossal, filling up the entire alleyway in its amber glow.

Your breath quickened as you cumbersomely took one step back, then another. Your wide eyes remained transfixed on the gateway in front of you.

Out of the otherworldly portal emerged a ginormous spider, about as tall as the portal itself, four legs acting as legs, the others similar to arms. Well, as similar as spindly spider limbs can be to arms. The arachnid’s six glowing red eyes bore deeply into yours, her jagged teeth curled delightfully into a wicked grin.

Perspiration permeated every pore of your being. Every limb went stiff, each muscle rendered taut. You probably would have screamed if not for fear of bile rising up your throat instead.

“Big Mama…”

“Oh, what a delectable surprise!” Big Mama delighted, her uppity, whimsical tone in such stark contrast with her imposing demeanor. “So many turtle-y boos, and- oh, this is pos-a-bubbly splendiferous!”

Her eyes narrowed in on you, but she didn’t take any action. She simply surveyed you, then the damage her lackeys had taken so far, then what all had been recovered, before they fell back on you.

“Come now, my minions!” The spider ordered coolly, almost excitedly. “We have far more pertinent prerogatives.”

Obediently, immediately, the identical servants ceased their fighting with everyone and filed through the portal behind Big Mama.

With one last nefarious smirk, she disappeared just as she had emerged: in a flash of auburn light.

All of you stood tensely. No one so much as breathed as if an action as insignificant as that would somehow summon the gargantuan spider and her lackeys again.

“So…” Leo’s lighthearted timbre cut through the atmosphere, “who’s up for Part 79?”

“Leo, not the time!” Raph corrected, and the two started to squabble.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you said shakily.

“You okay?” April placed a hand on your shoulder

“Yeah. I’m all good! Just had enough excitement,” you shrugged coolly out of her touch, hoping that you were concealing your panic better than you thought you were. “I’m right around the corner so I can just walk over-”

“I could walk with you.”

You paused, looked at who had said that. Donnie. You tilted your head at him, fairly certain that everyone else was just as perplexed.

He retracted about as much as he could into his shell at the attention. “For safety, of course. Because, you know, that was a really oddly timed exit and they could be waiting nearby and-”

“I get it, I get it,” you reassured, sparing him from digging a deeper grave. “I’ll gladly take the escort.” You turned to address the rest of the bunch. “Thank you very much for having me over, guys, it’s been real. A-A little too real, maybe, but fun either way. Goodnight, gang!”

You waved goodbyes and exited the alleyway, a purple-clad turtle in tow. You walked silently, still hardly processing what you had just witnessed. His presence was still pleasant, even if no words were exchanged.

Only when you were about a block away from your home did you speak. “So, do you guys experience stuff like that all the time or is the physical embodiment of arachnophobia a special occurrence?”

“Yeah, that was pretty much the usual, but Big Mama’s just about the worst of them. It used to be Baron Draxum, the warrior-alchemist-sheep man who made us, but he’s been rehabilitated.”

“Pardon? Your dad’s a sheep man?”

“No, my dad’s actually a rat. Draxum’s just my creator, father at best.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded along as if you grasped any of that. But if he was a turtle, then how would a rat or a sheep- oh, you were reading into it too much. It didn’t matter though, as you had already arrived in front of your complex. You walked up to the porch and turned toward him.

“Thanks for walking me back. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.”

You two paused. Were you supposed to walk away? Have more conversation?

After a moment of just looking at him, you gave him a small salute. “I’ll see you around, ‘Tello-”

“Wait!” he said before speaking more quietly. “I made a prototype of the technology I told you about at the library, if you want to come over and check it out sometime?”

“Oh, would I?” you beamed. “That sounds wonderful. I’m free tomorrow morning, if that works for you?”

“Y-Yeah, tomorrow’s great.” He smiled brightly back. “Great!”

“Does eleven sound good?”

“Eleven works.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.” He clicked his tongue, rocked back and forth on his heels.

“I’ll see you then.” You did finger guns, internally cursing yourself for it.

“I bid you adieu.”

“Right back at you. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight.” He finally made his way off the porch before shooting off into the sky with his battle shell, and you could finally head up to your place.

That was quite possibly the most awkward farewell you’d ever had. Very sweet, yes, but awkward nonetheless.

At the very least, you’d made it home in one piece. You couldn’t wait to see him- you meant, see his invention tomorrow.

Taglist~

@rottmntsimp

[mrsaltieri-real]

Alright! Request time! Lemme get a request with Mickey, natch, but hear me out. You and he, catching a mid-afternoon movie for a date, starts off sweet, and the theater is empty except for you both. He cannot keep his hands off you when twenty minutes after the trailers happen he realizes no one else is showing up. He teases and touches till you give in and let him fuck you in the theater. Some risky, public, try to keep it down, don't get caught sex in the theater. Passionate, needy, messy, some begging, make it so, so good just like I know you will.

When Boredom Strikes (Mickey Altieri x Fem!AFAB!Reader)

You and Mickey have an afternoon date at the movies, but boredom quickly consumes him, forcing him to find alternate ways to entertain himself.

Word Count: 3k

Warning/s: language, smut, p in v, slight degradation, fingering, public/semi public sex, praise, begging, almost caught fucking, teasing, thirsty Mickey, riding, ect.

Bex Bex BEX. You know damn well what this request has done to me these last couple of days. I’m happy to oblige. Here we go!

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Mickey stood with his arm casually slung around your shoulder as he eyed the movie options up on the board, pulling a face at every single one of them. “Fuck, there’s really no halfway decent movies.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, looking up at his dramatically disgusted face. “Well, whose bright idea was it to ditch class to come watch a movie in the middle of the afternoon, Mick?”

He glanced down at you, his pretty brown eyes playfully amused and a smile lit up his face as he lifted your chin with his finger, ducking his head down to peck you lightly on the lips, in which you eagerly reciprocated. “We missed our last date because I had to edit my short film and you’ve got a packed schedule for the rest of this week so I didn’t really have much of a choice now, did I?” He pointed out, reluctantly moving his face away from yours.

You nodded your head a little as you looked up at the board yourself, eyes scanning the cheesy rom com movies, every single one of them containing the exact same main plot point of a girl who didn’t realise love was right there all along. You knew Mickey hated these sort of movies with a passion, claiming they had no depth and no entertainment value whatsoever.

Being with a film geek like Mickey meant you were subjected to listen to his intensely angry ramblings about how cinema was quote “going down fucking hill,” and how there’s “nothing like the classics anymore.” You’d listen to him with a cocked eyebrow and watch him as he would rifle through his seemingly never ending cases of illegally pirated films that varied from action to mystery then to his personal favourite, horror.

As much as you loved him, you never quite understood his affliction with horror movies. Sure, you enjoyed them, but you’d see the intense excitement in his eyes as he watched some blonde girl with big tits get brutally butchered and ripped apart and you’d listen to him rant about the “authenticity” of the production value with blank but affectionate eyes. Nobody could say that he wasn’t passionate.

The theatre attendant sighed, her nails drumming impatiently on the counter as she stared unseeingly past the two of you with a bored expression. Mickey glanced at her, unable to stop the small roll of his eyes at her attitude.

“Just pick one and we’ll watch it. And choose fast because this one’s about to fall asleep.” Mickey said to you under his breath, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. You knew better than to offer to pay, knowing you’d be met with a disgusted look of horror at the very idea of you wanting to pay for absolutely anything.

You loosely gestured to the least sappy looking movie for his benefit, secretly relieved you didn’t have to sit through yet another bloody mess of a film and Mickey paid the attendant and took the tickets as she mumbled, “enjoy your movie,” He nodded his head at her politely and picked up the popcorn and drinks, begrudgingly making his way into the theatre with a grimace on his face at the thought of having to sit in the freezing theatre for two hours and watch this god awful movie. But as he walked toward the theatre doors, popcorn under one arm and you under the other, he noticed how deserted the place was. Just you, himself and 3 attendants in the entire place. He smiled a little to himself, knowing full well he could have a lot of fun with this little benefit when the boredom would truly take over.

As you both settled down in your assigned seats beside each other Mickey placed the popcorn by next to his feet, leaning back on the chair with his eyes scanning the room. Just as he’d hoped, it was completely deserted apart from the two of you. He glanced at your face, the smile still on his lips as you looked back at him, asking him in a suspicious tone, “what?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He said, diverting his eyes from you and to the large screen as the trailers began to play.

“Give me my popcorn.” You said, holding out your hand expectantly.

“No, no, absolutely not.” Mickey shook his head as he spoke, pushing your hand away gently.

“What? Why?”

“Baby, you always finish your popcorn before the movie even starts and what happens? Oh, Mickey.” He mocked your voice in an absolutely terrible impression, twirling imaginary hair around his finger as he spoke. “I finished all my popcorn, give me yours.” He looked at you with knowing eyes and a playful smile on his lips as he dropped his hand back down onto the arm rest. “Just wait for the opening titles at least.” He said in his normal voice.

“You think you know me so well. I don’t fucking sound like that. Ass.” You grumbled under your breath, slumping back in your seat with a pout. He laughed at you affectionately, reaching for your hand and bringing it up to his lips, kissing it gently.

“Huh, guess it’s just us.” You mused as you watched one of the attendants close the theatre doors, leaving just you and Mickey in the large dark room with nothing but the glowing light of the screen shining down on the two of you.

“Guess it is.” Mickey said lightly, shifting in his seat and dropping your hand in favour of resting his palm on the smooth bare skin of your thigh, his fingers lightly tracing shapes and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Mickey was big on casual physical contact, especially whilst watching movies. The cheerful opening of the movie caught your attention and your eyes set on the screen, deciding to make the most of your date together by actually enjoying the movie, even if he didn’t.

Twenty minutes into the film and Mickey was bored out of his mind. You seemed engrossed with the movie, shushing Mickey every couple of minutes when he tried to talk to you or complain about the “god awful” film.

“This is so fucking sh-“

You swatted at his arm lightly, shushing him once again and he groaned, slumping back in his seat and letting his head fall backward against the soft material of the chair. The two dimensional characters seemed to mock him through the screen as the actors paraded around with an awful performance. He physically recoiled as he heard the cheesy lines being spoken.

Nobody fucking talks like that. He thought to himself with a grimace.

He began to think of what he could do to make this date a little more interesting. He quickly scanned the theatre double checking the room once again to make sure it was empty before his fingers slowly danced across your thigh, casually moving in between your legs.

He chuckled a little as you slapped his hand, pinning your legs together as you sent him a small glare. “No, Mickey.” You said as sternly as you could muster. He looked at you completely unphased and raised an eyebrow, but said absolutely nothing.

One of Mickey’s favourite pastimes is fooling around with you in semi-public places. Semi-public was okay, semi-public was fun and exciting. It was even encouraged. There was only a risk of being caught. You knew exactly what he was thinking at the moment, what he wanted to do. But doing it here, in the middle of a movie theatre? That was a little too risky for your liking. You felt his hand move back to your thigh after a couple of seconds, still tracing small shapes onto your skin with a feather light touch. You clenched your teeth, staring at the screen to try and focus on the movie again, but now that felt almost impossible.

How the fuck did he always manage to do this to you? Completely divert your attention and make you focus explicitly on him and what you wanted him to do to you? The fact he didn’t even need to speak in order for you to waver on your insistence not to fuck him in a movie theatre was almost making you angry with yourself and your lack of ability to stand by your decisions.

He waited until you relaxed your rigid stance and your legs unstiffened, his fingers still grazing your skin gently before he made another much slower move. His fingers hardly even touched you as he lightly brushed your inner thigh. He smiled to himself a little when he heard your breath hitch a little and felt you look up at him with imploring eyes. He made sure his eyes were still set on the screen as if he was completely sucked into the crappy movie. You looked down at his hand, tugging at your bottom lip with your teeth as it moved upward underneath your skirt, feeling his fingertips glide up your inner thigh, your legs opening for him as though they had a mind of their own before feeling him very lightly grazing your clit through the soft cotton material of your already damp panties.

You shifted a little, fingers digging into the dark red upholstery of the arm of the chair, your legs instinctively inching even wider for him and you heard him let out a small, satisfied laugh as he felt the damp patch.

Fuck.

“Look who's changed her mind.” He murmured softly under his breath. You ignored him, eyes fluttering closed as you felt him move your panties to the side, his index finger slowly sliding up the length of your slit to collect moisture before torturously circling your clit with a pace that was so slow, so light, that it was almost painful. He let out another chuckle as he felt the heat on his fingers and heard the small whimper fall out from between your lips, his eyes still not moving from the screen.

Your head fell back against your seat as his fingers gradually increased speed, circling over your clit in the way he knew drove you crazy, but not quite applying enough pleasure for you to genuinely enjoy it. Mickey shifted a little in his seat so he was leaning toward you, eyes finally dragging away from the screen and to your face, watching you with dark and almost amused eyes as your chest heaved and your grip on the armrest tightened so hard your knuckles turned white. His fingers suddenly abandoned your clit in favour of plunging two of them knuckle deep into your pussy and causing you to let out a loud, unfiltered moan.

“Shh.” He whispered to you, his free hand covering your mouth as he continued to move his long fingers inside of you, hooking and curling them to graze the spot inside of you that was bound to make you cum sooner rather than later if he carried on.

Your eyes nervously flickered around the room again, terrified you’d missed a spectator in one of the chairs that would turn around and find some girl getting fingered by her boyfriend in the middle of a movie theatre. Of course there was no one, but his free hand remained on your mouth as he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and before resting his forehead on your temple.

“You gotta be quiet, okay?“ he said in your ear, another twist of his fingers inside of you causing you to moan against his hand in response. His fingers abruptly stopped moving, frozen inside of you and you looked at him in desperate confusion as his other hand moved from your mouth to slide down behind your head, gripping your hair firmly by the roots and forcing you to look into his eyes. “Do you promise you’ll be quiet?” He whispered, hand dropping from your mouth so you could respond.

“Mmm- mm yes.” You gasped out, your voice pleading and almost whiny as you bucked your hips against his hand, desperate to feel friction again. “Please, Mickey.”

“Look at you.” He said tauntingly. “Twenty minutes ago you were slapping my hand away and now here you are, dripping down my arm and begging for me to get you off in the middle of a movie theatre.”

He suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up and pressing them against your lips. You eagerly took his fingers into your mouth, sucking your own arousal off of them eagerly. He let out somewhat of a growl as he felt your tongue swirl around his fingers as you greedily tasted yourself and he quickly glanced behind him at the door before he slid his fingers out of your mouth slowly to unbuckle his belt. As he did, you were almost too eager to drop to your knees so you could blow him but he stopped you with his hand, shaking his head once whilst saying, “No, no,” and pulling his jeans and briefs down so his cock was just about out, already hard and pressed against his toned stomach. “Panties off, leave the skirt on.”

Your eyes widened a little as you hesitated, glancing up at the theatre doors. Mickey followed your gaze and rolled his eyes a little at you. “What, so you’re fine letting me finger your pussy here but you don’t want to fuck? Come on now, baby.”

You could hear the sarcasm in his voice and you scowled at him, but obediently removed your panties, discarding them on the floor by your feet.

“Good girl.” Mickey grinned at you, looking victorious as he grabbed your arm as soon as they were off, practically yanking you onto his lap. You straddled him with your knees either side of him, just about hovering over him as you felt the flushed head of his cock lightly graze your swollen clit, the sensation so slight yet so intense it sent a small shiver throughout your entire body. Mickey felt it too, sighing a little as he felt you just barely touching him.

The light of the huge screen dully illuminated the two of you as Mickey hitched your skirt around your waist before sliding his hands around to grip your ass, spreading you open for him as he angled his hips up, groaning quietly as he slowly began filling you. You let out a gasp that was a little too loud at the satisfying stretch, causing Mickey to stop abruptly, gripping your hips so you couldn’t move.

“What did I say?”

“I- I’m sorry, please don’t stop.” You begged him as quietly as you could. He could feel your body trembling with need and he couldn’t help but oblige you.

His eyes remained on your face, though you were hardly visible in the dim light of the screen and he smiled at your desperate expression before continuing to push up into you, sighing in satisfaction at the familiar feeling of your pussy clenching around him as he did. You angled your hips downward, impatient at his slow pace so you could envelop him completely and almost too eagerly. The thrill of fucking him in a public place where a stranger could walk in at any given moment and see the two of you was more exciting than you had anticipated, your earlier anxiety and concerns becoming nothing more than a distant and irrelevant memory. It made you more eager and hungry for him, more than you could have even begun to imagine. It took Mickey by surprise as he let out a small, breathless laugh as your hips rolled against him, thoroughly enjoying the reluctantly quiet moans you were panting in his ear.

“Such a whore.” He whispered into your hair, sliding one of his hands up your back and gripping the back of your neck under your hair. The sound of his voice in your ear as you rode him sent tingles through your body, spurring you on. “Look at you, riding me like a slut in the middle of a movie theatre, fucking acting like you didn’t want this the whole time. Bad fucking girl.” You groaned at his words, throwing your head back and moving your hands to rest behind you on his thighs, feeling the familiar need for him to take control. He obliged you once again, his hands resting your waist and holding you still as he began to grind his hips upwards and fuck deep into you, treating you as if you were his very own sex doll.

You almost cried out, turning your head and biting into the soft skin of your shoulder as you felt him thrust up into you, feeling his cock hitting all of the right places. You felt the slight stubble of his trimmed hair prick and grind over your clit, stimulating you perfectly as your nails dug into his thighs, making him let out a small hiss and grind up into you even faster, watching intently as your tits bounced from behind your thin tank top.

Your body was held still in his firm grip with your only movements being a reaction from him as he fucked you to his own accord as you tried hard not to make too loud of a sound. One of his hands moved from your waist to slide between the two of you, his thumb applying pressure to your clit and moving in small, calculated circles. His head fell forward to watch himself sliding in and out of your convulsing pussy, groaning as he felt you clench and tighten around him. He knew you were close to cumming when he felt your legs start to shake beside him and he knew he was close too. Just watching you with your mouth biting into your own shoulder to stop yourself from screaming as he fucked up into you in the middle of the day in a movie theatre was driving him insane, and he didn’t feel the need to prevent your impending orgasm or his own, the need to tease you disappeared in favour of feeling you cum on his dick.

Your head lifted from your shoulder and you looked at him, panting desperately with wide eyes. “I- I’m gonna- p- please can I-“

Mickey suddenly let out a sharp gasp and quickly grabbed you by your arms that were still propping you up by your hands on his thighs and hastily pulled you toward him, gently but quickly turning you around so you were sitting on his lap and he tugged at the end of your skirt so it covered the sight of his dick still stuffed inside of you. You frowned a little in surprise at the sudden unwelcome change, his heart hammering against your back and his panting breath on the back of your neck. You went to glance back at him in confusion only to see the theatre doors wide open and an attendant stroll in.

You looked at Mickey’s face in alarm but his eyes were set on the screen, refusing to meet you. You turned your head back around and looked at the screen, seeing nothing. You weren’t even sure what the movie was about anymore but you stared at the characters desperately. Mickey’s hand rested on your hip as the theatre clerk stood by the door, eyes scanning the room. It was just dark enough that the man wouldn’t be able to spot your panties bunched up on the floor, let alone you sat with your boyfriends still rigid cock up inside of you. To him, it probably looked as though you were sat on his lap cuddling him.

You shifted anxiously, feeling Mickey’s breathing change as you did so and you realised that at this angle, he could really feel you. Your eyes flickered to the utterly bored looking attendant who seemed to have his attention grabbed by the movie as an idea started ringing in your head. You slightly adjusted yourself, rising up a little and angling your hips back down. You heard him take in a sharp breath, his fingers bruising your hips as you moved very calculated and slow, unable to wipe the satisfied smile off your face as you felt his cock twitch almost pathetically inside of you.

“Filthy bitch wants to get caught.” You heard him mutter between his teeth.

You shrugged every so slightly, responding to him in a hushed whisper, “you started it. I’m finishing it.”

[mcondance]

other side of the game; hobie brown

summary // hobie swings by when you’re cleaning your room, and you know exactly what he wants.

cw // dubcon-ish (you say stuff akin to no but like.. you want it. it’s just a game you n hobie play), they talk a lot of shit, missionary

extras // you and hobie r Black so i don't wanna hear anything abt the grammar i used! "it's supposed to be doesn't" kill yourself idc, the song has. nothing to do with what happens in this fic btw it just.. it makes sense when you read it and it helped me write

wc // 2.6k

song shoutouts // special thanks to other side of the game by erykah badu and i get lonely by janet jackson

signing off // thank you to poetnon for this idea i hope you like this <3

.

.

.

you know the second you hear the knocks at your window that you won't be getting anything else done today. he does this every fucking time.

walking across your room, you unlock the window for your boyfriend, eyes meeting his as you psyche yourself up for what you know is coming.

you return your attention to your desk, and with your back turned to him, you hear him slide his lanky body through the frame, landing softly on your carpeted floor.

"you busy?" he muses pointlessly, already shrugging his jacket off and reaching down to untie his boots. player one, ready?

"yeah," you hum pointlessly too, hands fiddling with the trinkets on your desk. maybe if you don't look at him, you won't cave. player two, ready?

"what you up to?" his voice grows closer. you close your eyes, breathing deep and slow to try to build your resolve, but you can hear him inching towards you, the clinging of his belts giving his movements away.

"cleanin' my room." you spin around, figuring you'd face your doom instead. his shoes are off now, placed up against the wall under your window. and now the game has started.

"mhm. well don't let me stop you," he smiles, and you wish you could say that it didn't put another dent in your already rusty resolve, but it does. with shaking hands crossed in front of you, you push yourself up and away from your desk and move across your room to your pile of clothes, folding shit hastily, already so fucking nervous.

he takes your place leaning against your desk and scans your room, taking in how much you’ve already gotten done. it makes him feel a little less bad about what he’s going to do. “looks good already. how long you been cleanin’?”

“since like, 10.”

“mhm. ‘s 2:24 now. think you’re ready for a break?” you snap your head towards him, rolling your eyes and screwing your lips up at the implications of his words.

“not the kinda break you’re talking about,” you sneer, rolling your eyes again as you return your focus to the meaningless pile of clothes.

“and what kinda break is that?”

“the kinda break when you end up inside me. i don’t have time for it.” you don’t face him as you speak. you can’t. if you do, it’s all over. you don’t want it to end just yet. it’s fun. it always is.

“what, you think ‘m just tryna get in your pants? i jus’ think my girl should have a little rest, yeah?” at his words you drop the shirt in your hand, switching gears to organize your nightstand instead.

“you’re lying. you always do this.”

“do what?”

“this. you come here and sweet talk me and the next thing i know i’m under you and my room doesn’t get cleaned. i’m not doing this today.”

he’s silent— your brain isn’t. you know it’s only a matter of time until he’s doing exactly what he’s doing now.. wrapping his slim fingers around your waist and pulling you back onto him.

speaking directly against your ear, he finally comes out with what he wants. “take a break, baby, lemme make you feel good." his lips meet your neck, ghosting over your heated skin.

"can't, hobes, i gotta clean up,” you whine, but it's futile at this point, cause you're already leaning back onto him, already tilting your neck to the side to give him more access, already dropping the half-empty water bottle in your hand.

"you sure, love? y'can clean up after we're done, hm? i'll help you.” he sounds earnest, like he really cares. you shake your head no, but you let him pull you away from your desk and turn you around. "gotta clean," you repeat, but you let him push you down onto your ruffled sheets.

"then clean." he’s standing over you now with his hands tucked into his pockets, and he motions towards the pile of clothes with his head, knowing eyes fixed on your frame sprawled out on your bed. from here, the light frames him perfectly, and he looks so damn pretty. maybe you'll blame what you do next on that. doesn't matter now, though. eyes meeting, you both know you're not getting up— seconds pass with you both staring, a silent confirmation, and hobie knows your answer.

shrugging, he leans down with his hands still in pockets, placing a damning kiss on your lips, murmuring "gave you a chance, baby. knew you didn't give a fuck about cleanin'." and he's right, embarrassingly so, so you roll your eyes, channeling your faux-frustration into a rough kiss, curling your hands under the straps of his t-shirt.

he falls forward, hands flying from his pockets to balance himself on top of you. smiling against your lips, he speaks again, “see. . you want it. you’re desperate.”

his hips start to rock against yours, stacked belts clinging against your dangling legs. hands finding the side of his face, you huff at his irritating need to almost shame you, to show for some made-up record that no matter how much you turn him down, you want him. you need him.

so you push your hips against his, humming at the groan that flies from his lips. tapping your thigh, he ushers you up the bed, your bodies turning until your head is laid on your pillows.

he reaches down between you two, sliding your shorts to the side to rub his fingers against your already sloppy cunt, smiling when he feels and sees how wet you are. “cleaning my ass,” he jokes, kissing you before you can get upset again.

sliding his fingers up, he brushes the pads of them over your sensitive clit, swallowing the pretty moans that start to flow from your spit-slicked lips. hobie knows you like the back of his hand, knows just how much pressure you need, how tight his circles have to be, knows how to make you cum hard, and cum fast.

it’s always like this when he comes by with the goal to distract you— you always end up under him with whatever you have on pushed hastily to the side, fully clothed and his hand between your legs, shaking arms wrapped around his neck. it’s desperate, really, both your need to get off.

though you try to remain steadfast, try to act like you don’t want this, the way your hips move against his hand gives you away. “did all that sayin’ ‘no’, bu’ look.” he points his eyes down, towards where his hand is hovering above your cunt, fingers glistening.

“‘course ‘m wet, don’t mean shit.”

“it don’t? that’s wild, love,” he slides two fingers in without warning and presses his thumb against your clit before he starts his circles again, other hand moving to hold you in place when you thrash against him, “cause last time i had t’almost beg. ‘n the time before that, i did beg.”

you know what he’s trying to say, and it makes heat rise in your face and makes your eyes close, cause you can’t face him. no matter, though, cause he grabs your face, spits, “open your eyes. look a’me.”

you open your eyes and meet his low ones, ones that are always black with lust, ones that bore straight through you and make you feel so small and dirty underneath their gaze. he nods at your obedience, and then his fingers catch that spot inside you, and the licks of flame inside you morph into something like a fire, lighting you up with pleasure. you’re close, so close.

“you’re gettin’ easier, baby. act all you want, you’re desperate.” that sends you over the edge, and it’s embarrassing. it’s filthy, how he just has to talk to you a little mean and you’re cumming on his fingers, shaking as you choked out sobs of his name, like you weren’t just telling him to leave you alone 10 minutes ago.

before you even come down he’s kissing you, pulling your shirt up to free your tits.

"fuck you." you spew as you separate, but you still pull him closer, position him where his clothed dick rubs right against your cunt, kept away by the fabric of his sweats and your shorts that have almost rolled back into place.

"you will, in a second," he bites back, a wicked smile plastered across his ethereal features— features that are driving you fucking insane.

you’ve grown sick of his mouth— fisting his hair, you yank hard, drawing a pained moan from him and another drag of his cock against you. “you keep talking all this shit, but you’re the one who came up to my window looking for some ass. i don’t wanna hear it.”

“yeah? and you’re the one who kept going on about havin’ to clean your room, but i got you in bed so easy. we’re both fucked.”

and it’s true. the statement grounds both of you, and you both realize just where you are— inches apart, seconds away from what you both want. snapping out of it at the same time, your hands tangle together as you reach for each other’s bottoms, you freeing his pretty dick and him ripping your shorts right down the middle.

you laugh at his haste, his deep chuckles mixing with your giggles, foreheads meeting as you both calm down after your frenzy.

“‘m sorry. still forget how strong i am.”

“‘s fine. just fuck me already.”

“ehhh,” hand around his cock, sliding his tip up and down your waiting cunt, he teases once more, “y’sure you don’ wanna clean? room’s still a bit messy.”

“hobie, i swear to god, if you do not put it in me now i will pin you down and take it.” reading your eyes, he can tell you’re dead serious.

“‘s much as i’d love that,” he slides in with a pretty groan, and you wrap your arms around his neck with a throaty whine, “i want you like this.” pushing his hips up, he seats himself inside you.

breathing heavy, you both just take a second to calm down, to bask in the feeling of being intertwined with your lover again, no matter how annoying they can be. with closed eyes, you throw your head back, resting on your pillows. hobie takes that as a sign to spread kisses down your jaw, grinning when you smile.

“move,” you breathe, shifting your hips to give him better access.

that first stroke always drives you both crazy. the slow pull out, faces contorting in pleasure, bodies getting closer and closer until the next best thing is merging together again, you pushing down and him pushing up and then his cock takes its rightful place inside you, sensitive tip leaking against your cervix.

“‘m all the way in, love, can feel the end of you,” he murmurs against your neck, and you nod, curling your arms tighter around his neck. then, he just grinds, circles his hips, just barely pulling out.

it’s perfect, the way your bodies move against each other, giving and receiving pleasure at the end of the game you both love playing. with fluttery glides and soft slides, and pitchy whines and deep groans, you dunk yourselves into that familiar pool of feeling, let it fill up your noses and mouths until it’s spilling over, your bodies shaking and jerking against each other.

blissed out of your fucking minds, your lips meet the others, lazy connects of your lips that you can just barely call kisses. they’re slack-jawed and sloppy, spit-swapping, the lewd smacks filling the air, mixing with the harmony of fucked-out sounds.

slowly, hobie starts moving his hips around differently, on a mission now, one that has you tensing up, cause it never takes him long to find it, that sweet spot that has you—

“fuck,” you drawl, throwing your head back, and hobie just smiles and keeps his hips moving that way, keeps his cock kissing that same spot.

"that's it?" he hums.

when you try to articulate what you're feeling, try to tell him "yeah", the words never come. instead, he's raising up to spread your legs and balancing himself above you, switching from slow grinds to deep thrusts that have him pressing against that spot even more now.

now, with him slapping his hips against yours and his thumb on your clit, the sound fills the room, skin against skin. jolting against him, his eyes are still trained on yours, fixed on the furrow of your eyebrows and the o-shape your lips make, focused on how pretty you look when he fucks you.

your choppy moans fill his ears, the background to his barrage of words that fill yours. sentences about how pretty you look, how good you feel, how he just wants to fuck you forever, and then for the second time without warning, you cum again, right when he says something about wanting to keep you fucked and filled, "'s why i keep comin' over, cause i wan' you full of me all the time."

it's gentle, this time, streams of feeling flowing softly through you. hobie makes sure to keep his pace steady through it all, makes sure he prolongs it as long as he can.

when you come down, you're pushing up on his hips with shaking hands, nodding your head and telling him to move. he doesn't waste a second, lifts up and grabs your headboard with one hand to give himself some leverage, his other hand resting on your calf. this time around, he's forgotten all that slow shit.

he rocks his hips hard and fast, jolting you up, and your back rubs against your sheets, your hands fly to your thighs to ground yourself.

"keep 'em open," he slurs, eyes fixed on where he disappears inside you, on the way you cream on his cock, his pretty dick painted white. "watch," he tells you, "she swallow me up so nice." his tone is awe-filled, brown eyes lit up at the visual of you taking him so well.

your eyes roll back in your head, another wave of arousal overtaking you and you can't watch any longer or you'll go crazy, so you watch his face instead. watch his pretty fucking face contort in pleasure, watching his eyebrow piercings dance in the light, watch his sharp jaw clench when you clench around him.

and god, it’s building up again. how could have ever even thought you’d clean up today, when this is so much better. “you gonna cum?” he asks, cause he knows your tells better than you do. you nod shakily, hands gripping onto your thighs so hard you swear you feel your fingers going numb.

“then do it.” it’s an order, really, and you know what he means. hand flying to your clit, you rub messy circles, and hobie moves his hand from your calf to your thigh to keep you open for him. nodding with wild eyes, he watches you make yourself cum, watches your circles became sloppy side-to-side motions while you whine and almost fucking cry, watches your cunt clamp down on him and suck him in “like she don’t wanna let go.”

through the mind-fuck in your head, you hear him groan loud, and then he’s cumming too, gripping your headboard so hard you swear you hear a soft crack, but fuck the headboard, cause hobie looks so pretty when he cums that it don’t even matter.

laughing, blissed out of your minds, hobie lays down on top of you, breathing hard and sweaty as shit, just like you are.

“i really did need to clean my room though, hobie.” you hum, turning your head to face him.

“i wasn’t just tryin’ to get in your pants, love, i was serious about helpin’,” he mumbles against your neck. and he does help. by the time he’s sliding back through your window and kissing you goodbye, your room is perfect.

[xxaraaq]

𝙈𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙎𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝

masterlist

wc | 0.9k

cw | nudity, suggestiveness but not actual smut

Painter! Eren x reader

A/N | I hope y'all enjoy. Not edited.

It took him ages to convince you, but you eventually cracked. He asked you what the point of dating an art student if you wouldn’t let him use his talents. It was raining outside, and you opened the window to let the breeze into the room and hear the sound of droplets pouring down onto the city as you listened from your dimly lit apartment. He never understood why you liked the sound of rain, but it was something you took comfort in, so he didn’t question you.

You laid down on the couch as he set up the eisel, squeezing the different colors onto his worn palette. A thought crossed your mind as you smiled. “Babe?” You grabbed his attention. “He hummed, a sign that he was listening as he focused on setting everything up. “What if you painted me naked, like Rose and Jack from Titanic?” You asked him, his head snapped up to face you. “He didn’t paint her, he drew her” 

You throw a pillow at him, not amused. “You know what I mean smartass, you get the idea.” You huff as he doubles over in laughter. He calms down as you stare at him, displeased. “Yeah, yeah we can do that. Take off your clothes.” He says. You smile as you lift your shirt up, breasts exposed as you lean back on the plush cushions. He smirks when he realizes you aren’t wearing anything besides his shirt. He walks towards you, positioning you in the way he wanted to paint you in. “You comfortable? You’re gonna have to stay like this for a while.” He asks, eyes scanning over your body once more before going to sit back down. You nod, saying that you’re fine.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as he starts, only the pitter patter of the rain heard in the space. You hear his soft breathing as his hand flicks around the canvas, filling the blank space with soft shades of brown, grays, and greens. You smile every time your eyes meet his. He playfully scolds you everytime, saying that you need to stay completely still or else the image of you in his head will get screwed up. You apologize again and again, but do it everytime it happens. As you sit as still as possible, you think how stupid you were for denying him in the past. You were convinced that it would be boring, but it really wasn’t bad. You were content sitting all pretty while Eren drank you in, using you as his model while he filled the empty space with the thing he loved most.

He’s so happy that you finally gave in to his biggest wish. Of course he’s painted you before, but not like this. Never with you situated right in front of him, laying on display just for him. He knows he’ll cherish this forever, but for now he just wants to be in the moment and enjoy it. He eyes you up and down, the sight of you making him want to take you right here and now. He’s seen every part of your body, but seeing you rest stagnant makes him really be able to view you all the more closer. How the stretch marks on your thighs stop just before the cusp of your ass, how the scars on your knees overlap one another, and so much more. You were so magnificent, and he finally got to see it all without pleasure clouding his mind. It was sobering, but in a good way. He ingrained the image of your naked body like this in his mind, and he prayed that he would never forget it. 

He was about halfway through your portrait when he realized how much time had passed. You had taken breaks of course, but your body was starting to cramp from staying in the same position for so long. It was still raining outside, but you closed the window anyway, having enough of it for one day. He cleaned up as you stretched, groaning as you stood up. “What does it look like? Lemme see.” You walk towards the easel, but he stops you, gently grabbing you by the waist. “It’s bad luck for the muse to see a painting before it’s done, y'know. Maybe tomorrow, okay.” He says, smiling as you kiss his cheek. You don’t think you’ve ever heard that saying before, but you weren’t going to push any further. 

“Okay, well this muse is tired and achy, so I’m going to go lay down.” You pay his chest, but he tugs you back in. “Wait a minute..lemme just look at you.” He whispers, eyes darting along your face. You smile warmly as you do the same, taking in all his features. You’ve always known this, but Eren was a pretty man. He was hot and sexy, yeah, but he really was gorgeous. He kisses you, tongue sliding in your mouth as you moan into it. “It’s weird that I’m the only one who has my clothes on y’know, it’s not really fair.” You say, taken aback by his sudden and passionate kiss. “Well then why don’t you fix it then? He chuckles, and you lift his shirt off him. He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You giggle as he walks the pair of you to the room.

For now, the canvas can stay half way finished a little longer. All he wants to think as of ways he can fuck you so that your face as your driven crazy with pleasure is burned in his mind so he can paint it later.

-Nene

[atsullia]

OK OK I have no Idea which characters you write for 😭😭 BUT UHH could I request something about reader and Zantetsu having their first kiss?? PLEASE I love him so much 😭

Also I'm excited to see what stuff you're gonna write in general!!

✦ FIRST KISS

Pairing(s): Zantetsu Tsurugi x gn!reader

Warning(s): Profanity aka swearing

Author Note: I went to the wiki for more info about him and saw that Zantetsu worse subject is everything💀hope ya enjoy it Mao✨️

"Tetsu..how? How are you failing at every subjects?!" [Name] wasn't mad maybe slightly disappointed, they were more suprised? Flabbergasted? Their eyes scanned through all of Zantetsu past tests- math, science, English, and literature and etc.

"I did not fail! I passed all of them!!" Zantetsu tried to defend himself but that didn't work. "YEA- BARELY!!"

"Still.." He avoided the look that [Name] was giving him, knowing if he said anything else he would get shut down instantly. [Name] could only sigh, "Okay let's review the last test ya did," they took a test out of the pile of papers, "ok you got the first question correct- lemme see what you got wrong."

On the third question, a big cross written with red pen could be seen. "Fill in the correct answer from the passage, using appropriate language."

"...ah.." [Name] couldn't believe the bullshit they were seeing right now, "seriously tetsu?! Your answer for this is, 'Have more guts, Tadashi!' - IT SAID GET THE CORRECT ANSWER FROM THE PASSAGE MAN?! YOU CAN'T JUST MAKE YOUR OWN ANSWERS!!"

"Yeah...but in the passage Tadashi was being a pus-" "TETSU!!" [Name] cried in vain, they didn't know how long they can last trying to teach Zantetsu.

Sometimes [Name] wonder why they agreed to tutor him, looking at the football player whos complaining, wanting a break from studying. "It's only been 10 minutes Tetsu.."

Oh boy, this is going to be a long day..

Finals have passes and now the report card is out. The weeks tutoring Zantetsu was exhausting and torturous- atleast they didn't have to go through that again..hopefully.

"[NAME]!!" Zantetsu yelled making them to look at the direction of him. He was waving like a mad man- holding a envelope. "Didja open your report card yet??"

"Nahh, I thought of opening it at home," [Name] replied, "why?" Zantetsu was out of breath from the running, its as if he ran around the whole campus. "Well..I was hoping to open the report cards together!!" Zantetsu suggested, his eyes staring right through their soul.

"Fine.." they reluctantly agreed, 'geez he seems pretty determined..but for what?'

They both opened the envelope- revealing their report cards. [Name] got an above average grade for their total average. While the person beside them was slowly opening his report card.

"I GOT A 77% ON MY TOTAL AVERAGE!!" Zantetsu exclaimed with such excitement. He looked at them with eager eyes and cupped their face with his hands. Before they could respond his lips were on theirs- it almost feel unreal.

[Name] was slowly processing everything, 'huh?...huh..??HUH?!'

"WHATWASTHATFOR?!!" [Name] muttered out loud, their face getting hot every second. They wanted to say something but couldn't get any coherent word out.

"Huh?" His tilted his head with a dumbfounded look, "don't ya remember two weeks ago? The thing you told me??"

The realisation quickly sets in and they instantly understood what he was referring too.

...

"If your total average is above 70%- I will let you kiss me as a award~" [Name] teased, they were joking of course but a part of them weren't.

But they didn't know he would take it seriously!! That was their first kiss too! Stupid Zantetsu with his stupid cute smile..shit they can't even be mad at him- they did say he could kiss them as a award.

The proud look on his face was very evident, Zantetsu have been studying hard to get that kiss! His hard work finally paid off.

Zantetsu was in a state of victory while his crush is flustered as fuck- trying to keep themselves calm.

Atleast the weeks of suffering was worth it in the end.