#like gross i don't want you to tell me or 'hint' at any of this info

[astrovian]

y'know sometimes I see people making comments or talking about Richard Armitage's specific family members or hinting that they know who his potential partner might be or that they know which specific places he goes to regularly (e.g. gyms) and it always makes me:

a) want to barf a little and apologise profusely to RA that people are so horrific

and

b) reminds me of not only how little I know about all that but also how much I enjoy being blissfully & wilfully ignorant on these topics

[sceletaflores]

where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.” 

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name. 

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.” 

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?” 

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves. 

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. 

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts. 

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose. 

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup. 

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you. 

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you. 

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around. 

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach. 

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.” 

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off. 

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness. 

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso. 

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in.  You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass. 

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock. 

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts. 

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks. 

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door. 

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted. 

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

[alchemistc]

Oh, those prompts are so good! If you’re inspired, either 21. listening to someone’s heartbeat or 23. wearing someone’s clothes for Buck/Tommy? Thank you!

He's so fucking tired, is the thing. He's tired, and he's cranky, and this shift had taken ages to end, so when he sees the slash of bright bright blue bleeding out of his duffle and knows immediately what it is, something soft and achy blooms in his chest, and he ignores the subtle eyebrow from Lucy when he pulls it out.

The problem is she's seen Evan in this sweatshirt, less than a week ago when he'd dragged everyone out to trivia, when they'd all been well rested and happy to pepper Evan with stories about Tommy and the more sedate hijinks that Harbor station gets up to. Tommy ignores her look and shrugs it over his shoulders, dragging his head through the neck hole and not minding too much when the hood goes crooked, half stuck in his hair as he gets a wash of pleasant smells - Evan's aftershave, the detergent he uses, a hint of musk, Christ, he'd tucked it in to Tommy's bag unwashed like he knew exactly how much Tommy would want that.

Tommy does his level best not to look like he's huffing glue as he adjusts the hood around the back of his neck.

Donato bites her lip. Sighs, heavily. "Did you steal that, or are you guys in the part of the courting ritual where you do this exhausting shit on purpose just to point out how single the rest of us are?"

Tommy sends a half-hearted glare her way, gets another whiff of aftershave and tries his absolute hardest not to sigh like a lovelorn idiot. He's maybe half successful.

"You are choosing to be single. You have a great guy who'd absolutely love to lock you down, Donato." Tommy stuffs his hands into the front pocket and cocks a hip, and Donato frowns.

"He likes me too much. Don't trust it."

His huff of laughter cuts through the quiet of the locker room. "Hate to break it to you, Luce, but you kinda gotta open yourself up to the possibility of someone enjoying your company, if you want a glimpse at annoying, exhausting, stupid relationship shit."

"I'm trying to mock you, not get relationship advice from your domestically blissed ass."

It's not the first time someone has pointed out Tommy's supposed blissful status, but his body and his mind are so fucking tired and there are apparently, if Evan's last text is to be believed, a couple good cuts of steak seasoned and waiting for Tommy to fire up the grill at home. Which means there is also a man waiting for him there, too, a man with seemingly limitless energy and pockets of technically useless information, a man with silver-cast blue eyes and a birthmark over his brow that Tommy wants to bite every time he catches a glimpse of it out of the corner or his eye, a man he'd given his spare key months too soon just because he liked the idea of coming home to him, liked the idea of him creeping in while Tommy was passed out across his bed or shifting tools around in his garage or -

"Ugh. Gross. I'm leaving, now, tell Buck I said hi."

Tommy isn't actually sure he's going to do that, because he's just realized something that takes precedent, and no offense to Lucy, but she's already wormed her way into one of Evan's defining relationship moments and he's not giving her this one.

He waves her off and shoots Evan a text to let him know he's on his way.

Going home right away doesn't feel right, actually, now that he's thinking about it. He should get flowers, or - maybe learn a foreign language. How much Spanish have Christopher and Eddie taught Evan? Does Jee have some event he could crash?

(Tommy would like to point out that while he hasn't quite said it in words, he's not exactly upset about the way he and Evan are maybe a little batshit insane about each other. If Evan doesn't have any complaints, he's not going to put a damper on it, either.)

The drive home gives him enough time to talk himself down from hiring a skywriter, his cab awash in the scent of the armor-all Evan had spilled in it last week when he got distracted from 'helping' Tommy clean, the hints of scent from the hoodie that's maybe a little tight around the shoulders but still a perfect fit. For him. For Tommy.

Fuck. He should at least get the flowers.

Tommy makes himself keep driving. He's delirious with exhaustion, actually, that's why he keeps overthinking this, there's a steak dinner and a beautiful man waiting for him at home and Evan had probably gotten flowers at the market anyway. Because he does that, constantly, to the point that Tommy had run out of vases to keep them all in.

Tommy sits in the cab once he pulls in and tries hard not to romanticize the idea of Evan's Jeep looking right at home in the spot next to his.

Evan greets him at the door with a wide grin, a spoon in one hand, the other held under it to keep from spilling. "Taste," he says as a greeting, and Tommy opens his mouth more for the pleasure of seeing Evan's eyes light than any expectation for what's being put there.

Cucumber, vinegar, dill - he moans around the mouthful and barely chews before he swallows, suddenly intent to get his mouth on Evan's mouth. His duffle lands in the entryway with a thunk and he gets two hands into the hem of Evan's shirt, intent on tugging him in. "Hi," he says, and swallows whatever greeting Evan tries to return.

When they come up for air Tommy's pulse is racing, Evan is breathing heavily, and he's pretty sure there is a spoon tucked into his back pocket, left there when Evan slung his arm back to get a handful of Tommy's ass.

"Hi," he says, finally, eyes lingering on the neckline of the jacket he'd snuck into Tommy's bag.

The significance of the moment finally catches up to Tommy - the memory something Tommy sometimes falls back on when he gets too in his head about where this is going - stumbling through the emergency room doors with the leers of exhausted firefighters echoing in his ears, Evan a vision in blue (this blue) barely letting him get an apology out before trying to eat his face off in front of three amused nurses.

"Hey," Tommy says, feeling the day just slough off of him. His left hand has tucked itself neatly between Evan's impressive pectorals, and he contemplates, for a moment, just saying fuck it to the steaks and shoving him back until he can press Evan to his sheets, blanket himself atop him, press his cheek there instead of his hand and listen to the steady beat.

Evan blinks back at him, his eyes doing something unbearably sweet, and Tommy has to tell him, he really, absolutely does, only -

"I'm in love with you," Evan says, laughing a little breathlessly once the words are out, hands pressing in at Tommy's waist, a sort of wondrous expression leaking in around his smile lines.

Tommy should maybe feel like the wind has been ripped from his sails, but the fever-pitch beat of his heart won't let him.

"Y-you don't have to, like, say it back. I just. God I like you so much but I'm also - I love you," he repeats, or amends, or - there's something settled, in his expression, like just saying it was enough, like he doesn't expect Tommy to feel the same.

Tommy waits a beat. Slides the hand on his chest up over the rasp of his end-of-day stubble, thumbing the crook of his chin, fingers dancing over his cheekbone. "Evan," he says, sounding a little breathless, which should be embarrassing but Tommy doesn't care, and Evan's gaze catches and holds as he waits for whatever Tommy has to say next

[geombyu]

GOJO SEES YOU WEARING HIS SHIRT !

Pairing. student!gojo x student!gn!reader

Genre. fluff, friends to hinted lovers perhaps

Word count. 0.6k | Warnings. swearing, the reader is smaller than gojo (the shirt is big on them)

A/N. i see a lot of these and like 7/10 times theyre smut LMAOAO so i wanted to write a fluff ver! i also did Not think id be writing for jjk but 😭 ig we are + not rlly proofread sorry :(

Today was Gojo's day off, and what better way to start it than waking up at four pm?

He was a busy guy - despite only being in high school - he's already taken on many jobs, it was only right he could get sixteen hours of sleep.

When he arrived at your shared dorm at twelve in the morning, you were already asleep, so when he got out of his room and laid his eyes on you wearing his t-shirt, he couldn't help but gasp.

"Oh, hey Satoru." You spoke, sparing him a quick glance before going back to cooking. His mouth was still wide open; he couldn't respond—he tried, but he couldn't. No sound could leave him. Who knew all it took for the strongest to be left speechless was the sight of you in his shirt?

You look back at him, seeing how his jaw was still on the floor, you realize it was probably because of what you were wearing right now.

"Oh! This? Sorry," you chuckle, "none of my clothes have been washed yet—call me gross, whatever—so I decided to steal from your wardrobe. Hope you don't mind." You stuck your tongue out before placing the eggs on a plate.

You moved to put the plate on the dining table, giving him a better view of you in his shirt. It fit him so perfectly, so seeing it so big on you absolutely made his heart melt.

There was a light tint of pink on your friend's cheeks now; you were so cute he felt like he was going to pass out.

"Are you okay with just eggs? There's more stuff but I wanna save them for next time—oh, actually, you might not be here tomorrow…" You mumbled the last part, choosing to ignore how he still hasn't responded to any of your sentences.

Gojo tried to get a word out, but all he could manage was a strange, strangled noise, which you respond to with a confused hum. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't organize any of his thoughts. He was screaming over and over in his head, but there was a thought slightly bigger than the rest (the rest which consisted of AAAA's, OH MY GOD's, and WHAT THE FUCK's)—that thought was: "holy fuck you're so adorable," which was also exactly what he just blurted out.

Now it was your turn to be flustered, "I—what?"

Gojo's eyes widen before he covers his face with his hands, his face now fully red. "Ignore what I just said," his voice was muffled, but you could still hear what he said.

You never thought you'd see the Gojo Satoru blushing so deeply with his face in his hands, but here he is. You laugh, "can you repeat that?" You were teasing him, I mean, it's not every day that this happens, but any more teasing and his heart might actually blow up.

"Y/n, shut up—oh my God—I hate you!"

"I thought you said I was adorable? Or do you hate cute things?"

He yells into the palms of his hands.

Although you're being bold right now, him calling you adorable caused your brain to shut down for a good millisecond. Gojo complimented you all the time, but somehow, this felt different.

You walk to where he's standing right now, hands still covering his pretty face. You put your hand on his, and the feeling of your warm and soft hands comfort him.

He could tell you wanted to pull his hands away, and while he didn't want that, he was so weak to your touch.

He had no other option but to give in, so he did. You put his left hand away first, then the right. With his hand still in yours, you softly spoke, "if that's the case, then you must really hate yourself."

Oh, he was so in love with you.

© geombyu

[sluttywonwoo]

I have such a gross fantasy of Joshua Hong fucking me gently in front of a fire in a cabin while it snows. That man is so romantic and sweet I have a toothache

"warm now, baby?"

you smile and hum in affirmation as you hug your knees to your chest, watching joshua stoke the fire.

he joins you on top of the blanket he'd laid on the floor a moment later when the flames are roaring and the firewood is crackling in the hearth.

then he wraps his arm around you and kisses you on the forehead. "what about now?"

"even better," you answer. "but i think i could stand to be even warmer."

joshua raises his eyebrows. "oh yeah?"

"mhm."

you shrug off his arm and lay down on the blanket, pulling him with you so that he's hovering over you. he gets the hint instantly, probably because it wasn't so much of a hint as it was an obvious invitation, and kisses you on the lips. he's tugging at your thermal top in almost no time, pausing only when he remembers just how cold you had been up until this point.

"are you sure you want to do this now? we can wait."

"yes, i'm sure. i want you now, shua," you whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles behind his back to pull him closer.

he half laughs, half moans as you grind up into him, feeling him start to harden through his sweatpants.

"okay, why don't we keep your shirt on then? we can take everything else off."

it's not really a compromise you want to make but you settle for it anyway, too desperate to try and protest further.

joshua pulls your shirt back down over your tummy and moves on to your pants, getting them and your underwear off in one fluid motion. he whistles under his breath at the sight between your thighs.

"no wonder you were so impatient. you're already soaked for me."

you've been dating for so long that you shouldn't get flustered when your boyfriend says things like that but you feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment all the same. he smirks at your reaction which makes you even wetter, something you hope he doesn't notice.

"poor thing. i won't make you wait too long, baby. just a second..." joshua yanks his t-shirt off over his head and lays it underneath yours like a pillow before shimmying out of his sweats and slotting himself between your legs. "ready?"

"yeah, give it to me."

"so romantic," he mutters, pushing himself inside of you anyway.

it isn't often that joshua fucks you without any foreplay but the main goal today is to warm you up and anything that isn't straight-up fucking you would leave part of your body exposed to the cold. like this, he can lay his body on top of yours like a weighted blanket and keep you warm as he gently fucks into you. it's exactly what he does, draping himself over you as he starts to move.

already, you feel warmer. whether it's due to the fire, his body heat, or his dick inside of you, you can't be sure but if you were a betting woman, you'd put your money on it being a combination of the three.

he's going slow to let you adjust to the stretch but it still feels like he's splitting you in half with every thrust. it feels heavenly, though. almost too good. you swear you're seeing god every time he bottoms out and the way he's praising you like you are one is making it impossible to stay grounded.

"i love you," joshua whispers, pressing his lips to your neck. "i love you so much, you're taking it so well for me."

it's all too much. too much and not nearly enough and you want to stay like this with him forever but you also want to fucking cum over and over and...

and he looks so pretty in the firelight. the ever-changing glow flickering against his skin makes him appear radiant, like all the colors of the sunset are being projected on him in waves.

"feels so good, shua," you gasp, back arching off the floor.

he strokes your cheek. "i can tell. you're crying already, my love."

you sniffle, giggling deliriously as you try to blink the tears out of your eyes. his figure is blurred behind them and you want to see him clearly. "i d-didn't even notice. 'm sorry."

"don't apologize, baby. you know i love making you cry- well, in this context, of course. means i'm doing something right."

"you're doing everything right," you confirm.

joshua sucks in a breath to steel himself before continuing. "for what it's worth, you f-feel so good too, baby. you're so fucking warm and tight... i don't know how long i'm going to last."

he sounds apologetic about it but you shake your head and grip his shoulders like you're going to give him a pep talk. "we have all night," you assure him. "we can go as many times as we want, as long as you're here keeping me warm."

[dumplingsfordays]

Reading 30 Strales and omg Blade smelling like citrus sounds amazing. I've been playing for about 3 weeks and after fulling catching up on the trailblazer quests I was like dang blade kills people a lot right, he probably smells like blood 24/7 that's so gross. All this to say... reject logic, I agree that blade smells like citrus. Do you have thoughts on what any of the others would smell like?

what the hsr men smell like

ft. blade, gepard, jing yuan, dan heng, luocha, and welt

cw!: mentions of blood, no pronouns for reader mentioned, implied relationship, cuddling, swearing, super fluffy :)

note - thank you so much for reaching out to me omg 🥺 i reject logic too so that's how the whole citrus thing came to be ajsjdk. also i know absolutely nothing about colognes/fragrances so i'm sorry if i mess some of these up ;-; hope you're having a great day/night though pookie <3

and as always, thank you for reading :)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

blade

~ as mentioned above, def smells like citrus and bergamot.

~ sometimes you can catch a little metallic-y whiff of (cough cough) def not blood (cough cough), but it never lasts for long - when he hugs you, the smell of oranges invades your senses like a light summer breeze~

~ and don't get me started on how obsessed he is w this scent. if he stays somewhere for even 1-2 days, you know he's bringing along his 3 freakin citrus-scented candles!!

~ please run your fingers thru his hair when you're hanging out or cuddling. please. he will melt from headpats and your fingers will smell like his shampoo for the rest of the day, and since you love the scent of gentle lime, why not?

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

gepard

~ omg this man!! he's totally giving cashmere + hot cocoa for some reason??? he doesn't really use cologne/fragrances and prefers his natural scent, but does use cashmere and vanilla body wash + shampoo.

~ like sure, after a busy day at work or training he'll kinda smell like sweat but will immediately take a shower when he gets home. he hates being sweaty and thinks it's icky if he does for too long-

~ and when you snuggle up to him for cuddle time on a day off, you just wanna stay there forever bc his scent envelops you like a blanket on freezing winter nights <3

~ overall very comforting and warm, just like Gepard himself!! (cries in human heater vibes)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

jing yuan

~ musk + cinnamon + a little bit of spice, and def uses cologne.

~ actually wants to smell nice and puts in the effort!! changes his sheets, washes his clothes, showers every day (but washes his hair every 3 days or so bc haircare)

~ speaking of haircare, this man's big on it. most of his haircare products smell like the aforementioned musk and cinnamon, but he uses this one cream that smells like cloves and you freakin adore it. sometimes you borrow it so that whenever you're going out and he's busy with his big boy general duties, it feels like he's with u <3

~ and ughhhh his bedroom smells like him so whenever you guys have le cuddle time you fall asleep almost immediately. ofc he eventually does too (bc he loves how u smell too pookie, don't tell him i said that though he would kill me aksjskd) and you're so warm and soft and how could he not fall asleep??

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

dan heng

~ very ocean-y (salty?), small hints of eucalyptus and cypress as well. when he uses cologne he uses very, very little, but he actually has 2 separate colognes, one for the ocean-y cypress, and the other for the eucalyptus

~ i feel like this is kinda a bold statement but he uses bath bombs. like he gets a bath bomb that smells like mint, gets in the bathtub w it, and glides his thumbs over its surface bc he likes the texture-

~ he might not be the cleanest man in the universe, but he sure does smell like it!! something about eucalyptus and cypress and mint and a hint of ocean breeze is chillingly refreshing and tbh you kinda dig it :D

~ mornings w dan heng. omfg they are ethereal bc he literally smells angelic??? like a gentle freshness yk and the pillows smell like him too so lazy mornings are def a thing that you guys love sharing <3

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

luocha

~ oooo he's kinda a wild card imo, but personally, i think that he smells like jasmine + honey (not just bc of his idle + technique!! pinky promise)

~ he lowkey smells a little like freshly-cut grass, very light n refreshing. however, jasmine takes center stage, and if you really bury your face in his long-ass hair, you can catch a whiff of chamomile :))

~ super big on herbal teas and honey as well - i hc that he brings a water bottle w him that's just green tea n honey so when you're close to his face (cuddling, hugging, etc) the honey adds this sweetness that blends super well w the aforementioned chamomile + jasmine <3

~ like jing yuan, super involved in haircare!! he does use less products, but you still freakin adore this chamomile shampoo that he uses. avid believer in aromatherapy, prob uses essential oils (not for curing cancer ofc)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

welt

~ coffee and amberwood!! both are deep and rich scents and he probably uses cologne in very small amounts aksjdks

~ coffee addict and the scent faintly lingers, so the amberwood is really more prominent, but overall i promise he doesn't smell like dust or smth, he's not that old he takes good care of himself :))

~ burns incense in his room bc it helps him relax and concentrate on his drawings, so he does have a little resin smell to him, but you don't mind bc it's actually quite comforting. he once almost caused a fire bc he dropped a lit match onto the carpet but we don't talk about that-

~ loves to hug you so whenever he does, you always feel so cozy and loved and aaaaa ya'll are so cute i can't <3 and since he's pretty tall he sometimes rests his head on top of yours and hugs you from behind like that and you melt immediately bc it's like a blanket!! but smells super nice!!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

[kiefbowl]

hi, sorry for sending this outta nowhere but i guess i just need some advice. i'm a lesbian still in the closet, and there's a guy in my class who likes me. i know this because he straight up told me he'd like to be "at least friends" with me, and has called me hot "jokingly" before multiple times. the thing is, he's not a bad guy, if he wasn't into me i'd even like to be friends with him, but knowing he likes me that way makes me feel gross, makes me feel objectified. i can't hang out with him without imagining how he really thinks about me, what he imagines. he's been getting kinda touchy lately, like nowhere inappropriate, just on my shoulders and stuff, but i hate it. and i guess this is really starting to get to me, i feel so relieved when he doesn't show up to class (we're in the same class in college), and i feel tense when we talk, even if it's a fun conversation. it's starting to impact my day to day life, i feel like a piece of meat. when he said he'd like to be "at least friends" with me, i said (among other things, it was a long conversation) that i was looking for friendships, emphasis on friends. i know i should have straight up told him i wasn't interested in him romantically, but i got scared of his reaction. i don't think he'd get mad, but he'd definitely be hurt on some level. he's the main extrovert in our friend group in uni, the "glue" of the group per se, and i'm scared of people isolating me when they figure out something happened between us and i'm the reason he's sad. i want to tell him i'm a lesbian so he doesn't think i'd reject him because i dislike him, but i don't know if he's homophobic, and i'm so scared of him being one of those weirdos with a lesbian fetish. one say he saw me reading dykes to watch out for, he asked what it's about and i told him it was about the lives of a group of lesbians. i was hoping so bad he'd get the hint, but i don't think he did.

i don't know what to do. i guess i'm waiting for him to ask me out directly so i can be more firm, i can't just randomly tell him i'm not interested without the subject having come up naturally, but i'm getting kinda desperate.

I'm going to give you a few pieces of broad advice that I think will help you:

First: Any amount and any kind of touching that you don't want is inappropriate touching. You don't have to wait until it gets "bad" or "worse" until you say something. If someone jokingly touches your shoulder and you don't like it, you are within your right to say "I don't want you to touch my shoulder like that anymore" and that person, as a good person and a good friend, should immediately respect that. This is true if it's a man or a woman, someone you know or a stranger, or even family. It's your body, you get to dictate your boundaries.

Second: Retribution from friends because you aren't making yourself available as a dating option for someone is a sign of terrible, awful friends and, frankly, just as people in general. I understand being scared, especially if you think any violence is at risk, but when you're in a situation where you can't act in your own self-interest because you are too afraid of punishment, it's worth asking yourself what you are getting from these friendships beside just general companionship and not being alone. Why are these people worth your time in your opinion? Yeah, maybe they're funny and nice, maybe they aren't "evil", but are you too afraid to give them reasons to prove they actually aren't nice? Well then, it's probably because you know they aren't actually nice.

Third: You don't need to make up a rule book in your head then ask me permission to break those rules. You can tell him you're not interested, because it's not random, it's something that's weighing on your mind. You are actually the focal point in this conversation because it's about you and you are experiencing your life, not him and not your friends. If you think it will seem random to him, frame it in a way so it isn't. You can say things like, "I have a hunch you're interested in me romantically, and if that's true I want to be clear that I am not interested in that from you" or "I have something that's been weighing on my mind, and it feels awkward to talk about, but it makes me uncomfortable, and I want to discuss it with you."

Fourth: No one in this world will ever or even can fight for your comfort and pleasure that best benefits you except for you. You can sideline your own comfort forever, and what that will get you is an uncomfortable existence. There's no two ways about that. So why not fight for your comfort and pleasure, why not do the uncomfortable thing that gets you what you want than do the uncomfortable things that doesn't get you anything you want? A lifelong struggle for all of us to some degree, but perhaps this is the best time in your life to push yourself in this way. Good luck :)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to stop having gay sex in my room?

I'm a gay man currently living in college residence. With the way the dorms are designed, it's two separate rooms and a middle "common room" with a little kitchenette and a washroom. The walls are pretty thin and you can generally hear everything. Which means I can always hear my (very straight) roommate having mediocre sex with his girlfriend when I'm trying to study for my law/ethics final.

My boyfriend lives in my hometown (Not my current city) and is physically disabled with a fulltime caretaker. The only time we get any time alone is when we're in my room together hanging out so it isn't often that we get to... mess around. He comes to my city every few months or so because he plays professional basketball at a provincial level and my city hosts the tournaments (Guys he's so fucking cool eugh~ I love him).

Anyways with the background info out of the way, onto the point.

My roommate recently told me that he felt uncomfortable with my boyfriend and I having sex in the room. I apologized and said I didn't think he could hear us (We're both very quiet). He said he couldn't but he can always tell afterwards because we both look a certain way. I asked if his girlfriend was going to stop 'coming over' and he said no.

I kind of had my suspicions about him being homophobic and this was just confirming them for me. I asked him why it was okay for them to fuck but not my boyfriend and I and he just said 'that's different'. I kept pressing him to explain how it's different and he just said that he's not comfortable with it.

He then compared it to me asking him not to throw up in the kitchen trash can (He drinks and is too lazy to go to the washroom. I have trauma that has made me severely emetophobic). I kind of backed up slightly because I figured maybe it was just hearing sex in general that triggered him and I apologized and said I didn't realize it was a trauma thing. He said it wasn't and I asked him to explain and he just said that he found it gross when we (My boyfriend and I) did it.

I asked if it was because we were both men and he started getting upset and a bit aggressive (Yelling, waving his hands around, getting closer to me). He kept repeating that he didn't want to say it (Whatever 'it' was) and that I was making him look like an asshole.

At that point I decided to leave for a walk, both to calm down and to get some space from this guy since I am the tiniest twink you'll ever mean and he's like 6'5" or some shit. Before I left I told him that until he gives me a good reason that my boyfriend and I aren't allowed to have sex or until he stops fucking his girlfriend and screaming for the entire floor to hear when he's coming, I was going to keep plowing my boyfriend as much as I fucking wanted. When I left, I heard something slamming in the dorm.

This was a couple days ago and I haven't seen him since but I've heard him out and about while I was in my room. So far everything is quiet but his girlfriend literally JUST walked in ten minutes ago so we'll see where this goes.

I may be the asshole because I kept pushing him and was being a bit crass with the way I discussed things. Also just refusing something that made him uncomfortable. On the other hand, I don't see why I shouldn't be allowed the same freedoms in my own living space and I'm 99% sure this is because of homophobia since there have been other hints at it. My boyfriend and I are arguably more considerate since we mess around far less frequently and we do it much more quietly.

What are these acronyms?

[a-simple-imagine]

Tear apart the heart

synopsis: you just watched your girlfriend die right in front of you

pairing: victoria neuman x reader

words: 1k+

WARNINGS - themes of grief, blood, death, mention of body pieces

she promised you the world and instead, you got the most disgusting makeshift lab you ever had the displeasure of stepping inside. but it really didn't matter anymore.

that heavy feeling in your chest is brand spanking new. you search your brain for a comparison but it's like nothing you've ever felt before. it's almost suffocating. blocking off the one thing keeping you alive right now. air. gross, dingy air that was so polluted with chemicals and old take out, it almost knocked you sick but now a hint of copper joined this mix. an unwelcome change. a tickle against your cheek. you reach up to remove the tear. only it is red as it slips from the tip of your finger down your hand and to your wrist. you wanted to believe it was fake even as it trickled down your forearm. so desperate for none of this to be real. but deep down you know it is. it's blood. her blood. and maybe the droplets that adorn your skin should have been actually tears but they just never came. did that make youan evil person? undoubtedly. everyone cries when someone dies. it's like the first thing that's expected. but you just couldn't. what you felt inside wasn't sadness per se. or maybe it was. you couldn't tell. it didn't feel like when you were normally about to cry. this felt all-consuming. you felt rigid in this moment. unable to process anything. This wasn't ordinary. most people didn't watch the person they loved get ripped in two. weren’t drenched in tiny pieces of their girlfriend. it felt comical in a way. perhaps that was why you were having such a hard time acknowledging it. people don't just get ripped in half. this wasn't a comic book or some mid-budget horror film which gaineda startling cult following because they used practical effects instead of CGI for the gore but they didn't overdo it with the gore either. it was tasteful. no. this wasn't tasteful. you don't know what this is. you can hardly even look at her. you want to go back. dear god. you shouldn't have given in so easily.

"did you order the food?" you question, glancing up from her laptop that you had been playing on.

"What?" a brief blank expression that settles into a gentle smile. the kind of smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "no. sorry."

"Can I order something?" a silent nod puts you to work and decides what to have. "who were you talking to then- on the phone?"

"Hughie,"

the name alone forms a pit in your stomach. you used to think so fondly of him. you'd met him a great many times but that was before. "you can't be serious,"

"Just hear me out"

"no, Victoria- that man has tried to kill you multiple times," you express. "what could you possibly want from him?"

"out," a simple word. She cares not to elaborate as she walks closer to the kitchen aisle. taking her laptop, she spins it around to face her. "so what are we eating?"

"what do you mean out?"

she shrugs. "I want out. out of everything. I just- I can't do this anymore."

your heart beats a little faster. out of everything? out of this? that wouldn't explain the conversation with Hughie. although they used to be close friends. "what?"

"he's gonna help me get out of this mess," she expresses. "I think I wanted this for a while. like genuinely wanted it not just because of what was happening around me or stan or whatever. but now it's just not something that makes any sense."

"Vic,"

"It's pathetic really but I'm just never gonna be more than a puppet. and that's not what I want- I don't wanna be under anyone's control, y'know?"

"Sure," a lopsided smile with a hint of shrug. you didn't get it. felt like a few pieces of the puzzle were missing. a small sigh leaves her painted lips as she walks over to you. your eyes trail after her until you're staring into all too familiar eyes. usually so steely but today they possess a flicker of something different.

"Hughie is gonna help me get out. if I do this- if I help them bring down homelander then I just get to live my life away from all the bullshit. I realised all I want now is to be with Zoe. and with you too."

"Are we just skipping the part where he and his friends tried to murder you? how can we trust them?" you wonder what she can see in your eyes. the fear of what's to come. the joy of knowing she was willing to give up everything to be with you? That was a crazy thought. a crazy thing to admit. Victoria was gentle with you and loving but this felt like a different level of vulnerability. one you never saw from her.

"I'm not asking you to trust them," she holds your gaze, firm and pleading. "I'm asking you to trust me."

she had never steered you so wrong before. on shaky legs, you push yourself up off the dusty floor. brushing yourself off; little did it help. your heart races with your decision as 5 people - mostly strangers- surround you. you weren't a supe. you had no means to protect yourself here. they don't seem like they're gonna kill you as you turn around to find Hughie amongst them. he was covered in blood too. your girlfriend's blood. it was almost strange how fitting it was. That pit that once formed was now a silent rage as you stared at him. the man who Victoria trusted enough to come here. the man who promised her protection. the man who leads her to her death. he just stares back. a look of sympathy perhaps- no, pity. you take a deep breath and turn away in search of the other person you arrived with. zoe lies unconscious off to one side. at least you hope she's just unconscious. or maybe you didn't? what was a worse experience for her? you slowly make your way over to her. nobody stops you. nobody makes a move. you know you can't carry her so you just sit down beside her. a gentle hand on her side. you don't want her to be alone when she finds out her mother is dead.

[admirationandromantics]

Going overboard, 9: Karma

This one is again, on the shorter side, and there's no Josh, so sorry about that. Hope you're keeping up so far (only two parts left!). The power went out today so I actually thought I wouldn't be able to update today, but after a couple of hours it passed so we're fine. Thank you for all the requests I've gotten, I'll start working on them at once (but please also be patient with me).

We walk deeper into the tunnels, Sam leading the way. Everyone is silent, except when Sam occasionally asks if everyone is keeping up. I can see that Chris is struggling, but Ashley is taking care of him, sometimes holding him up, so he doesn’t have to lean too much on his hurt foot. 

The tunnel is scary, and everytime we arrive at a corner, I feel like something’s going to pop out, ripping us to shreds. The walls are dark and dusty, I didn’t even know dust could collect on walls, considering they’re vertical. The tubes above us make an occasional sound, echoing through the rooms. 

“Come on guys! We’ve got to find Mike!” Sam urges, looking back at us. I stop, the anxiety getting to my head. I’m even more stressed now than when I was taking the college entrance exam. Emily has not said a word. Ashley and Chris have said a few words to each other, but nothing has come out of her mouth. I feel bad. Of course one’ll feel defeated if your ex held a gun to your head. 

“Come on!” she continues, starting to walk again. 

“Hey guys, I’m kind of gimping out here” Chris exclaims, breathy and exhausted. 

“I think maybe you should go on without me”

“No, Chris, we’re not leaving you” Ashley reassures, hand on his shoulder. 

“We’re sticking together, that seems like the safest option anyway” I add, waiting for him. 

“Mike will just have to wait”

I see Sam’s face fall. She doesn’t want to wait. Waiting might kill him, but we cannot continue the path separated. We continue forward, sometimes hearing loud screams. 

“Shit! What is that?” Ashley asks. 

“Their screams, the wendigo. I think the sound travels through the pipes” I point to the ones in the ceiling, then the ones on the wall. She takes my answer, nodding approvingly, as if to assure herself that what I’m saying is true. Honestly, I’m trying to convince myself as well. 

We finally arrive at a large metal door. Sam tries opening it with no luck. She hints for me to grab the other handle, and we try forcing it open together. It doesn’t work. 

“He must’ve locked it on the other side” I state, trying to look into the gap. 

“Crap, there’s gotta be another way in” Sam exclaims, and I can sense her frustration. I’ve never seen her like this before, a mix of panic and frustration, covered with false braveness. I want to comfort her, but that’s not what she needs. She needs to find Mike, and that’s the only thing I can help her with right now. 

“Wait, hey. How about this?” Ashley chimes in. We all turn to look at her, standing over a manhole cover. 

“Oh, um” Sam starts. I know she doesn’t want to, but the urge to find Mike overtakes her. 

“Should we try it?” Ashley adds, looking over at her for approval. 

“I mean, do we have any other choice?” I ask, waving my head and hands. 

Sam wastes no time, walking over and trying to get it open. She’s struggling, and I can’t help but pity her. The others don't notice how scared and desperate she is. A metal rod is laying on the ground not too far away. 

“Hey, use that” I tell them, pointing in the direction. Ashley grabs it, wiggling up the cover. They all help move it, before shining all their lights in there. It’s dark and gross, an eerie air coming through. 

“Okay, maybe this is the last place I want to be right now” Ashley says, taking a few steps back. 

“We need to find Mike” Sam retorts, fixated on her decision. “So, who’s going first?”

Everyone is silent, standing around the hole as if waiting for the first climber to be dragged down and murdered. I sigh, walking past them and climbing down the ladder. The others follow close by, so I keep going. When I’m down, I stand guard, looking around and helping Emily and Chris on the last part of the latter. Everyone gets down, and Sam starts immediately walking again. 

“Hey Sam!” I yell, confident she’ll not hear me if I ask in a lower tone. 

“What?”

“Should we, like, close this thing? In case something’s following us?” 

“Yes, fine, close it, but can you catch up, please?” she continues, stressed and impatient. 

“Yeah that’s fine” I yell, seeing them go off in the distance. The cover is heavy, and it takes a couple of tries to get it in place again. When I get down, it seems silent. Too silent. I start walking, but it quickly turns into a jog when the feeling of loneliness comes over me. I don’t know how much further they’ve gone, but I keep following the main path. 

“Help!”

I look around, confused by what I heard. Who was that? The sounds don't stop, crying and yelling continuing to emerge. It sounds so familiar. 

“Help me!”

“Hello?” I try saying back. 

“Hey” the voice sounds again. It kinda sounds like… Jess? 

“Jess, is that you?”

“Please, help me” she continues, the sound of crying filling the air once again. I walk to the voice, who continues its rampage. If this really is Jessica, then how did she survive her encounter? The voice grows stronger as I get closer, a bad feeling squeezing my chest. Mike said she was dead, and she died in the mines. Why is she suddenly here? I keep walking, though my steps grow more hesitant by the second. 

I arrive in a room with a big trap door, banging continuously. This doesn’t seem like Jess, wouldn’t she talk more, ask more, tell me that she’s okay? I lean down, hand on the lock, considering my options. What did Ashley say again? These wendigo things are able to mimic their prey? And if she, at some point, was the prey, the wendigo would know what she sounds like. I let go of the lock, hoisting myself up. This cannot be Jess, at least I hope not. I continue further in, seeing a jump down. I carefully make my way, and meet the others. 

“Oh my god, I’m so glad to see you!” I exclaim. 

“Glad you’re safe” Sam says, both hands on my arms. I give her a nod and a half-hearted smile. What if she didn’t die, and I’m the reason she’ll be dead? What if she’d been there for hours, waiting for someone to hear her? 

We arrive in a large room once again. 

“Look!” Ashley says, pointing upward. 

“Wow, great”

“The ladder’s toast, we’re never gonna make it up there” 

“No, no, no. I think I can do it, it’s like a rock wall” Sam says, looking over at me. “You’re coming with me right? Getting Mike and Josh?” 

My heart flutters by the mention of his name, and I give her a determined look. She’d taken me climbing before, not too many times, but only so I know the basics. She still needs to help me. She turns to the others. 

“We’re gonna keep going, you guys should head back to the lodge” she tells them, looking for a way up the rock wall. 

“Good luck!” I hear, before their footsteps faint into the nothingness. 

Sam points to a grip. “I’ll give you a push, and you go for that, the pattern upwards seems fairly easy” she says, and I nod. This’ll be fine. She holds out her hands, letting me put my foot on them, and hailing me up. I take a firm grip, and manage to climb up. The pattern is easy, the grips coming fairly quickly and painless while moving upwards. I get up, getting one foot over and rolling my body over. I wait for her, stretching out my arm for her to grab on the last passage. She takes it, and I use all my strength to drag her up. 

“Ugh, we beat you” she tells the wall, and I give a snicker. It feels good to laugh a little. 

“So, are we like, officially in the mines now?” I ask, unsure about our surroundings. 

“I think so”

We make our way further in, walking up some beat up stairs. They lead to a wooden railing fastened to the stone wall. As we get to the top of the stairs, it starts rumbling. 

“Fuck, Sam?” I ask, unsure what we should do. I turn back, but she grabs my hand as several big, heavy stones fall in front of me, destroying the stairs. 

“Okay, let’s be careful” she whispers, letting my hand go. We continue on, and I notice a couple of unsteady planks before us. 

“Sam?” I ask, but it’s too late. She walks over them, which breaks beneath her. She falls, and I’m quick to grab her hand, using my other to hold the railing so we both don’t fall. 

“Don’t let go, please!” She screams. 

“I would never!” I yell as I try taking a step back. I sit down, both feet pressed to the railing for support so I don’t fall. 

“Okay, I’m gonna pull, try to grip the railing when you get up” I tell her. She doesn’t answer, small whines coming out of her mouth. I pull, and she grips a plank. It instantly breaks, causing me to grip her harder. 

“Shit shit shit” I exclaim. “Try again” 

I pull, and she’s able to reach the railing, pulling her up further. I get her all the way up, and we both sit down and take a breather. 

“Fuck” she whispers. “Thank you”

“No problem” 

We jump over the broken parts and walk into a bigger room. The silence is interrupted by a horrid scream, a scream we’ve heard too many times tonight. I look around, finding a metal rod against the stone and picking it up. She looks up at me, finger to her lips, signalling for me to be quiet. I nod in response. 

We walk further in, noticing a large door. 

“That must b-” Sam starts, but is interrupted by a choir of yells. The door slams open, and Mike is on the ground, a glowing hot wendigo over him. 

“Shit” Sam yells, unsure of how to help. I swing the pipe, hitting it in the face. It comes up over me, and I hit it once again, its head falling off and body collapsing. Mike is quick to get on his feet, closing the door and sealing it with a shotgun. 

“Are you alright?” I ask him, all of us breathing heavily. 

“Define ‘alright’, I’m alive, for a start”

“Well, alive is good” Sam comments. 

“What the hell are you guys doing here anyway?” 

“Came to warn you about the wendigos.”

“I think I got it” 

“Yeah”

“Let’s find a way to where this fucker lives” he says, walking past us and into the mines. 

“Okay…” 

[ineedmycoffeerightnow]

So okay there's some arguments i hear from people why Home x Wally is not valid ship, so i decided to explain these and try to counterargument them! If you have an argument of your own feel free to write it in the comments :3

1)"This is incest! They like father and son to each other"

Canon of the show is that Wally didn't know Home before the he moved into him and also he like. A Building. If we're going to build on the show's lore Its would be just popular headcanon. Just because you see them as parent and child doesn't meen everyone does く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡

Some people are like to thing that Home is a creator of the show/his soul in there. I get it too, this theory KINDA makes sense, but still... We didn't see Wally acting like Home is his creator/getting revenge on Home for make their life hell (you can count worshiping as a sight but evidence is too weak), they are pretty chill with each other! Plus, it doesn't explain why Home is doesn't like humans, and from new update we learn that Welcome home is another world, so this theory is 99,99% is false i think

2) "Home is a building!"

Eah. LIVING building. With emotions and fears. Home is fully aware and sentient, it just so happened to have a different body then the rest of the puppets

3)"Home is abusive/evil!"

I understand why some people see them having Dynamic like this, but honestly I never saw it as inherently abusive? Maybe Wally is actually obsessed with Home, or maybe it’s the opposite, or they’re both crazy about each other, but it could also just that they act the way they do because of their self awareness. I do also think they’re overprotective of each other as well.

I just can’t see them *not* having any kind of close relationship, I mean Wally literally takes care of her, serenades him, and even blows them kisses and Home does similar gestures back at him! The feeling is mutual here.

3)"Wally is worshiping Home! Its unhealthy"

The only evidence of Home being worshiped by Wally is "so bellow" page.

I know technically it could’ve been used as evidence as Wally worshiping Home as a god but I think there are many other ways to interpret that drawing on the site… Like, I don’t think Wally is viewing her as some powerful entity, I think Wally is just obsessed with he. Not in a worshipping way but more like in a “you mean everything to me and I wouldn’t let anyone come between us” way. Also because of how Home’s eye’s are, the drawing could’ve easily been outside just as it could’ve been inside (we can’t really tell since it’s all black). And even if it was inside, I don’t think that means Wally can’t leave Home, honestly I don’t even think he’d want to anyway. They’re both mutually bonded to each other

3)"Wally/Barnaby is canon, so you can't ship Wally with Home"

First. Wally/Barnaby isn't confirmed canon. Yes, there have been many, and I mean MANY, hints at this ship. I personally think that in fact in near future it is going to be canon. Second. Im still allowed to do whatever i want with them. They are my comfort ship, they make me happy and it doesn't hurt anyone.

So, what's conclusion?

People like to think that their personal disliking of the ship is a valid point to bully shippers. They would make TONS AND TONS of excuses just to make others dislike it too. "They like son and father!", "They are abusive!", "This is proship, its gross!' despite not having evidence at all. Idk why ppl so scared to say "I don't personally like Home/Wally, its not for me" and go with their lifes. It much easier then to digging internet searching for art of them two and then show it to others saying: " LOOK HOW GROSS IT IS!!! SHIPPERS OF THIS SHIP IS TOTALLY UNHINGED!!!! How lucky we are not to be this stupid 😉😉😉"

It hurts. A little.

Life is so much better when you just not interact with things you don’t like, wish more people realised that tbh. Especially in fandom, because people get so mad over ships and headcanons when they could just…. Not interact? The more you seek out the content, the more it’ll appear in your feed because it’s how a for you page works. The algorithm shows you things it thinks you will like based off previous posts you’ve viewed……

Like I’m just shipping these silly little puppets together and making headcanons I’m not hurting anyone 😭

Thanks to @serillian for helping me with this one -⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠-

[qqueenofhades]

Hello! I have a question that may be a tad uncomfortable but I don't know who could answer honestly. How do you get over class with a professor who self identifies as your mentor/father? He spilled his guts to me after class and told me how happy he was he connected to a young girl like me(Im 19 he's 59). He will be my prof for the ENTIRE year. I don't know how to feel, it wasn't flirty at all, and I actually think he sees himself in me. He's odd and off putting and stand offish. I am too, kinda. He said if shouldn't feel lonely because Im different, because I have my family, and now him (also Implied i should find god).

He's a conservative catholic with a wife and kids, I can tell he doesn't mean it in a weird way. He probably means well. But it's odd that he's acting like a mentor when I've only known him for a month.

Now, I thought this chat wouldn't affect me but he psychoanalysed me and it felt like he saw right through me while treating me like his therapist. I also think he's a lonely man who is projecting, seeing my potential and "what could've been" for himself.

How do I cope? I don't want this to affect me, but it pushed me terribly off axis. I felt pigeonholed, more than anything, and also feel bad for him.

WELP. Okay, first of all, I want to reinforce that this is NOT your fault and that it clearly creeped you out to the point where you decided to ask someone for help, all of which means that the situation is not okay and he does NOT have the right to do any of this -- whether forcing emotional intimacy on you after a very short time, suggesting that you Find Jesus and/or convert, hinting that he wants to "mentor" you, or whatever. Just because he's a conservative Catholic is no guarantee that it won't get creepier (indeed, often the total opposite) and even if it wasn't sexual or didn't feel sexual at the moment, that is... wrong. He should not have done it. He does not have the right to decide He Is Now Your Mentor and to push that connection on you. Even if it was not conscious or intentional grooming behavior, it is... squicky to say the least, showed that he was willing to push boundaries with you right away, and is certainly something that should make you cautious of any more uncontrolled or one-on-one interaction with him. So yeah. Gross. "Now you have me so you won't be lonely"??? Sorry, there is no scenario in which I can imagine that being an okay thing for a professor to say to a student. No. It may be that he just doesn't have a good sense of social boundaries or appropriate behavior, but that also doesn't mean you need to excuse it.

Next, if you can switch to another section or class so you don't have to spend the year with him, that might be worth looking into. If you can't, then obviously minimize the time you spend one-on-one (if there are office hours or if you need help with the class, maybe ask your peers or the TA if there is one, rather than him) and remember that you can tell people at your university if it continues to creep you out, not just me. There are procedures in place at most institutions to document this kind of interaction if it continues to cross a line (I don't know where you are in the world, but in the university where I work in the US, there's an office of Title IX, which deals with these kinds of issues). Older male academics smarming up to young female students and telling them they're "special" happens a lot, unfortunately, and while it doesn't always end terribly, it is something that you deservedly flagged as weird and which you should keep an eye on going forward. I'm sorry that you've experienced this and once again offer my support in navigating this year in as un-icky a way as possible. Please remember that you do not have to apologize for or excuse yourself for making choices to get out of a weird situation that clearly threw you for a loop, and you do not have to put up with this behavior if it continues or gets worse. Good luck.

[puppy-steve]

a lil non-smutty snippet from the "eddie helps chrissy with her sex life" (now titled: helping hand) sfw: sex is mentioned but not described in explicit detail

before she leaves, eddie tilts her head up with two fingers under her chin and softly pecks her lips.

"don't be shy about asking if you want to do this again, alright?"

"i promise i won't." chrissy leans up and kisses his cheek before turning to leave, a bashful smile on her face and her cheeks tinged pink. she waves at eddie as she backs out of the driveway.

eddie shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants as he watches her drive off. her moans and cries from the night before and this morning are still echoing in his head, threatening to make him hard again.

he's going to have to call steve over and tell him all the dirty little details while fucking his boyfriend’s brains out.

he turns to walk back up the steps of the trailer but jumps as he's suddenly met with the glaring eyes of max mayfield.

"i'm not keeping this a secret from steve," she says firmly, arms crossed over her chest. "friends don't lie. especially not about something like this."

eddie has to hand it to her, she can be downright scary when she wants to be. fierce and protective of her people. but he has to chuckle a little at the situation.

the frown on max's face turns into a scowl. "you think this is funny, munson?"

oh, she sounds pissed off now.

"i literally catch you cheating on your boyfriend and you're laughing?"

okay, maybe now's the time to take control of the situation before it escalates. "sorry, red," eddie says, waving a hand in front of him. "not funny in the slightest." there's still a hint of amusement in his tone. "just, you might have the wrong idea of what's going on here."

max doesn't look relieved. "i don't think i do, actually."

eddie sighs. she gets her stubbornness from steve.

"you do, and i can promise you, there is no cheating happening."

"i just saw you kiss her!" max exclaims, eyes wide and eyebrows raised to her hairline. "did you forget that my trailer is right across from yours? the walls aren't that thick, eddie! you had your gross sex mixtape playing and i could hear every noise you two made last night!"

her hands shake at her sides but she stands her ground. "i like chrissy. she's a good person and she makes things fun. but i won't let you string steve along like he’s just some plaything."

she looks genuinely distraught and eddie feels bad for laughing at her.

he sighs. "c'mere, kid." he pulls her to his chest with a hand on the back of her head. she still has her arms crossed, but she relaxes after a minute, wrapping them around eddie's back while he sways them comfortingly.

"i appreciate you looking out for him, but i'm not cheating on steve," he says firmly. "he's well aware of what we were doing last night. this was just me helping out a friend."

he can feel max crinkle her nose against his collarbone. "you're helping her out by having loud kinky sex? i didn't even think you liked women."

eddie barks out a laugh as they pull away. max still looks a little upset. eddie just ruffles her hair. "i don't, but there's a lot of things you'll understand when you're older, red. you might be a bit too young to have this conversation right now."

max rolls her eyes. "please, i'm plenty old enough." a light blush dusts her cheeks as she looks at the ground and mutters, "me and lucas have done some stuff."

ah.

"some stuff that i hope you're both being safe about." eddie rests his hands on her shoulders and gives her a soft smile. "tell you what, how about i go get dressed and i take you out for breakfast, huh? then maybe we can come back here and i'll lay it all out for you and answer any question you have. deal?"

max pretends to think about it before nodding with a smile. "deal."

[jessiemeows]

Underdark Trysts

A/N: Hello! Although I am holding off on my long fic. I decided I want to write more little drabbles that I believe I'll eventually add to my long fic. I want to let everyone know I never really written anything with smut so this is my first time lol. I hope it's at least decent enough. I made this in Astarion's POV because throughout my upcoming fic I want it to be divided from Eris' prespective and Astarion's :)

R: E for explicit!!

Content Warning: fingering, PIV, cum inside without protection, hints of him maybe becoming overly jealous?? a little too dominant at one point

Word Count: 1300

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F! Dark Urge Tiefling, My OC Eris, Selunite Cleric/Paladin

Summary: After completing the Soverign Spaw's quest to rid the rot of duergar that killed his young, Eris and Astarion are looting a small hut together. Astarion gets turned on and wants to have a quickie. His simple plan fell apart weeks ago (even before the tiefling party) but he's refusing to realize it and keeps blaming his tadpole for any feelings he gets.

Eris scrunched up her face, nose twitching in distaste. "Ugh, do these duergar eat anything but mushrooms?" She rummaged through wicker baskets and rotted crates, her eyes scanning for anything of use. Astarion stood with his arms crossed, his lean frame leaning casually against the rough-hewn wooden planks, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched her and her furry friend, Scratch search the hut. A short respite after he and his companions had just finished defeating a group of Absolute-worshiping duergar who had slain the young myconid followers of Sovereign Spaw, and were forced to kill the rogue myconid Sovereign Glut, who had sought to overthrow Spaw. 

Astarion chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know, darling, we are in the Underdark. I'm pretty sure that's all they eat."

Eris spun around, a pouty look on her face. "Well, it's gross. I don't think I've ever liked mushrooms and that's saying something since I don't remember much. One of these days I hope we can find a nice dessert. Maybe a chocolate fudge cake!"

Astarion's smile grew. "Hmmm, I'm not sure that will happen, my sweet but maybe." He couldn't help but find her pout adorable.

Eris turned back to face a couple of shelves, but they were just out of her reach. "A little help?" she pleaded, looking back at Astarion. He snorted and sauntered over, pulling down the book and holding it just out of her reach. "Go on, take it."

Eris glared at him. "Astarion, I swear by the moonmaiden’s grace I will smite you if you don't give it to me." He laughed and relented, handing her the book. "thank you" she muttered, rolling her eyes and stashing the book in her bag of holding. Scratch followed her as she moved to the next area of the small hut.

Astarion's breath caught as he drank in the sight of her. The warm glow of the mushrooms illuminated her freckled now blood-stained skin and fiery red eyes. Her blood soaked low-cut armor and form-fitting corset accentuated the swell of her breasts, just staring at her he could feel his trousers begin to tighten as his arousal grew... He needed her. Now. Straining to listen, he heard the others down by the Ebonlake. Lae'zel and Shadowheart were arguing about the artifact yet again, while Karlach, Wyll, and Gale discussed what they suspected lay across the lake - likely more Absolute cultists. This was wonderful because no one was paying any attention to the two of them.

He turned to her, trying to sound casual. "Darling, turn around I found something." Eris spun around, curiosity in her eyes. And then his lips were on hers, needy and demanding. Without hesitation, he let his hands wander down her waist and firmly grasped her ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. He could tell she was startled, but she leaned into the kiss, letting out a little giggle at his eagerness. 

"Astarion," she warned, but he deepened the kiss. "They are all busy, no one will know," he muttered against her lips. He trailed kisses down her neck, feeling the slight bumps of the bite scars he had left the previous night during their nightly trysts, when he drank her blood. Gods, she was so sweet, allowing him to drink from her each night. He was fortunate she was a cleric, and that he gifted her the amulet of Silvanus back at the grove or she would have been left exhausted every day. A soft moan escaped her as he kissed her collarbone, his hands squeezing her breasts.

"Shhh, pet, as much as I adore your sweet moans, those sounds are meant for my ears alone. But, do you want more?" he whispered against her skin. She nodded and he pulled back, looking at her. "hmmm what was that? I'll need words, little love."

Astarion smiled as Eris whispered, "Yes, please, Starry, I want more." He pressed his lips against her skin, then murmured, "Good girl."

Astarion swiftly scooped up Eris and placed her on a somewhat stable, broken desk. He shooed away Scratch without delay. With deft fingers, Astarion quickly unlaced and pulled down Eris' trousers and pink laced underwear. Eris was already so wet, but Astarion wanted her to beg just a little more. His icy fingers found their way into her folds, pumping slowly inside her, moving rhythmically. As he kissed her neck he quickened his pace. Hearing her quiet whimpers, he paused the kisses to see Eris concentrating on not being too loud.

Astarion placed his free hand over Eris' mouth. "Moan for me, my little moon. I'll make sure no one hears you," he whispered smugly. He savored watching the writhing tiefling submit to his dominance, reveling in her willing surrender. Only he was allowed to do this, no one else- not Gale, not Wyll, not Lae'zel, no other tiefling that had hit on her back at the grove, only him. His simple plan was succeeding tremendously.

"A-Astarion," Eris mumbled through his fingers. 

"Yes, love?" Astarion cooed. "I need you to use your words. You know how dearly I adore your sweet voice."

Eris struggled to force out the words, "P-please.". 

"Love, I don't know what you want," Astarion teased. Eris pleaded, "I want you, Starry. Please, I need you."

He wasted no time unlacing his own trousers and pulling Eris close. With a covetous murmur, "Only because you asked so sweetly," he plunged his hard, aching cock into her folds. Eris squealed, but Astarion quickly covered her mouth to stifle the sound. He began thrusting slowly, allowing her to adjust to his length, before gradually picking up the pace, pounding into her harder. Eris' tail curled around his leg as her long nails gripped the collar of his jacket.

Astarion could feel Eris's body tightening around him as they neared climax. Her fingers were now wrapped his curls. "Fuck, you feel so good," he muttered breathlessly. His thrusts grew sloppy and ragged as he reached his release inside her.

Both breathing heavily he rested his head against her shoulder, still inside her. She played with his curls, then gave him a small but sweet kiss on his forehead, just as she had done back at the tiefling party. That simple gesture grounded him, keeping his mind from wandering as it had then. He didn't want to wander; he wanted to savor this time with her, for he truly enjoyed it. Cazador wouldn't whisk away this sweet, lost, murderous fool of a selunite. They were both safe. 

Astarions ears perked up when he heard soft foot steps moving closer to them, giving Eris a nervous look the two quickly jumped apart, hurriedly pulling their pants back up and trying to look nonchalant. Shadowheart entered the doorway, saying, "Hey, are you guys almost done looking around in here? The rest of us are ready to head back to camp. I don't know about you, but I need a bath after that Mushroom got his guts all over me."

"Haha! Yes, we're done. Just give me a minute to organize my bag, and we'll be out," Eris replied quickly, her face flushed with embarrassment. Astarion chuckled to himself, amused by her discomfort.

"Okay, I'll be out here with Gale. The other three have already started making their way back," Shadowheart said, her confused expression clearly indicating she didn't want to know what had just happened. With that, she left the doorframe.

Astarion looked at Eris smugly, teasing, "Look at you, you little minx of a Selunite, lying to your best friend. Maybe the Sharran and I are bad influences on you."

Eris lightly punched his arm. "I really don't think she wants to know what just happened," she teased back.

"Probably not. Alright, let's go, before you make me want to go for another round," Astarion said, his voice low and seductive.

Eris walked through the doors ahead of him, and Astarion paused for a moment, his stomach filled with butterflies. He quickly shook off the feeling and followed Eris, muttering, "Stupid tadpole is playing tricks again."

[werepuppy-steve]

a lil non-smutty snippet from the "eddie helps chrissy with her sex life" fic (now titled: helping hand) sfw: sex is mentioned but not described in explicit detail

before she leaves, eddie tilts her head up with two fingers under her chin and softly pecks her lips.

"don't be shy about asking if you want to do this again, alright?"

"i promise i won't." chrissy leans up and kisses his cheek before turning to leave, a bashful smile on her face and her cheeks tinged pink. she waves at eddie as she backs out of the driveway.

eddie shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants as he watches her drive off. her moans and cries from the night before and this morning are still echoing in his head, threatening to make him hard again.

he's going to have to call steve over and tell him all the dirty little details while fucking his boyfriend’s brains out.

he turns to walk back up the steps of the trailer but jumps as he's suddenly met with the glaring eyes of max mayfield.

"i'm not keeping this a secret from steve," she says firmly, arms crossed over her chest. "friends don't lie. especially not about something like this."

eddie has to hand it to her, she can be downright scary when she wants to be. fierce and protective of her people. but he has to chuckle a little at the situation.

the frown on max's face turns into a scowl. "you think this is funny, munson?"

oh, she sounds pissed off now.

"i literally catch you cheating on your boyfriend and you're laughing?"

okay, maybe now's the time to take control of the situation before it escalates. "sorry, red," eddie says, waving a hand in front of him. "not funny in the slightest." there's still a hint of amusement in his tone. "just, you might have the wrong idea of what's going on here."

max doesn't look relieved. "i don't think i do, actually."

eddie sighs. she gets her stubbornness from steve.

"you do, and i can promise you, there is no cheating happening."

"i just saw you kiss her!" max exclaims, eyes wide and eyebrows raised to her hairline. "did you forget that my trailer is right across from yours? the walls aren't that thick, eddie! you had your gross sex mixtape playing and i could hear every noise you two made last night!"

her hands shake at her sides but she stands her ground. "i like chrissy. she's a good person and she makes things fun. but i won't let you string steve along like he’s just some plaything."

she looks genuinely distraught and eddie feels bad for laughing at her.

he sighs. "c'mere, kid." he pulls her to his chest with a hand on the back of her head. she still has her arms crossed, but she relaxes after a minute, wrapping them around eddie's back while he sways them comfortingly.

"i appreciate you looking out for him, but i'm not cheating on steve," he says firmly. "he's well aware of what we were doing last night. this was just me helping out a friend."

he can feel max crinkle her nose against his collarbone. "you're helping her out by having loud kinky sex? i didn't even think you liked women."

eddie barks out a laugh as they pull away. max still looks a little upset. eddie just ruffles her hair. "i don't, but there's a lot of things you'll understand when you're older, red. you might be a bit too young to have this conversation right now."

max rolls her eyes. "please, i'm plenty old enough." a light blush dusts her cheeks as she looks at the ground and mutters, "me and lucas have done some stuff."

ah.

"some stuff that i hope you're both being safe about." eddie rests his hands on her shoulders and gives her a soft smile. "tell you what, how about i go get dressed and i take you out for breakfast, huh? then maybe we can come back here and i'll lay it all out for you and answer any question you have. deal?"

max pretends to think about it before nodding with a smile. "deal."

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 17: oral fixation

stray kids 1.1k words female reader insert Reader x Kim Seungmin NSFW

🖤 warnings: kink discovery, a nice good-natured roasting during sexytimes, penetrative sex (f receiving), mild d/s dynamics🖤

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This would undoubtedly be considered a happy accident.

He just wouldn't shut up.

Which, honestly, is par for the course for Seungmin. If there's a snide comment available for the situation at hand, he's gonna say it. That's just in his nature. But sometimes it gets under your skin. Not every action needs running commentary, you know?

An endearing quirk can turn annoying so quickly. Especially in bed, where you're both so vulnerable and things can be taken so personally.

This was one of those times, when every little thing you did was being met with a comment and a raised brow, a challenge. You were annoyed, and you really needed him to get in the zone for a second. So you pressed your hand over his mouth to physically keep him quiet.

That didn't work, though. So, even more annoyed, you shoved your fingers into his mouth.

It was spur of the moment. You might even call it an accident.

But you did it; you shoved two fingers into his mouth so that he couldn't spout any bullshit around them.

And now you're sitting here, your fingers still pressing against his tongue, your wrist cramping awkwardly from being held aloft. Seungmin is similarly frozen. staring at you in relative terror.

The unabashed moan that'd just come out of his mouth is still ringing in your ears.

It was sincere, from deep in the chest, far too real to be him fucking with you. He's embarrassed, too. You can tell from his wide, frantic eyes.

Slowly, so slowly, you pull your fingers back, not even minding the wet grossness. That doesn't matter now.

"Um..." Seungmin tries and fails.

"What was that?" you ask.

He's very sincere. "I...don't know."

"Because it seemed like..."

"Babe, please-"

"It seemed like you were about to nut hardcore just from my hand in-"

"Please," he begs, as if you're not going half as easy on him as he usually goes on you, roast-wise.

"What?" you ask. "If that's something you like, I wanna deliver."

You also aren't gonna give up this golden opportunity to mess with him, but that goes without saying.

"Who said that's something I like?" he challenges shakily.

Well, you're both bare-ass naked. You'd gotten pretty far into this encounter, clothes long forgotten and skin against skin. So there is one above-average-sized hint that this is indeed something he likes. He's still rock-hard.

You don't mention it, though. "Are we gonna pretend that didn't just happen?"

"I would prefer that, yeah!"

If it's what he really wants, then yeah, eventually, you'll let it go. You're not about to really upset him for no reason. But how could you let this slip through the cracks without proper investigation?

"Okay," you say. "Okay. So you're telling me you don't want me to keep putting-"

"That's not pretending it didn't happen!" Seungmin complains.

"I'm sorry," you apologize soullessly.

He glares at you, but he does let you get in nice and close again.

Moment of interesting new sexy discovery or not, you still want him. And you're gonna have him. Comfy on his lap, now, you're just a quick adjustment and a slow, careful slide away from being filled by him.

"Fuck, yes," Seungmin sighs.

You settle against his thighs, grinning as you feel him flex beneath you, trying not to buck up into you too hard, too soon.

"I missed you, you know," you tell him.

Seungmin tilts his head to the side, puppylike, wry. "It's been like three days."

"Three days," you agree. "Terrible."

"Needy."

"That's you."

It's so comfortable with him, though. Comfortable, as you take up a slow, rocking rhythm to ride him. Even comfortable enough to try your luck with some more mischief.

The first time was a happy accident. This time is on purpose.

You're gentle about it, not wanting to upset him by being too aggressive or embarrassing or, like, disrespectful. No, you just trace your hand over his gorgeous face, down the line of his cheekbones, to his pretty jaw. He indulges in the attention, too, always glad to have your eyes on him.

Carefully, you press your fingers against his lips again.

He pouts.

"What?" you ask.

Seungmin doesn't make you move your hand, though, speaking against your fingertips. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not," you promise. "I'm really not."

"I get it, it's funny that I mo- reacted, or whatever. Let it go," he says.

You stare at him, imploring.

"If you really, really want me to drop it, I will," you say, "But I really feel like this is something you like. And if it is, then I want to try it."

You can't say for sure why you're being so adamant about this.

Maybe because Seungmin so rarely asks for things like this for himself. He's pretty tame, in bed, very much fine with you making the changes that you want, calling the shots according to your tastes. He'll always tell you what he doesn't like, but it's much less common to hear what he does like.

There's nothing more exciting that the idea of giving him something that he wants.

Seungmin does not disappoint.

He's flushing pink across his cheeks and his neck, and he's so fucking hard inside you, as he parts his lips and lets you press your fingers inside his mouth again.

It's just gentle pressure, the weight of your fingers on his tongue. Simple, for you, barely anything at all.

You're still rolling your hips gently, stimulating yourself to keep things interesting, as you curiously watch his expression change. A little bit distracted. Floaty eyes, something, you'd wager, like that headspace after a good orgasm. You're fascinated.

Oh, this is different. He likes this.

You clench around him, rising up and sitting back down, and he groans, lips moving around your fingers.

You do it again, but this time you press your fingers into his tongue just a little, making the weight of them more noticeable.

This time, he moans.

"Baby, you really like this," you say, breathless.

Seungmin looks you in the eye, his gaze unfocused. He doesn't try to speak around your fingers, but the flush spreads to his ears.

"You just need your mouth full, huh?" you say.

You're not expecting it, but he nods, dazed.

"Oh, honey." You can't help the way you're practically cooing. "Seungmo, baby, did you not know?"

His tongue flexes against the pads of your fingers.

"Before today?" you clarify, "Did you not know that this was something you wanted?"

Sheepish, he shakes his head.

"Have you never gotten fucked with your pretty mouth filled?" you ask.

You can't even be embarrassed about the way you're talking. It's too good, to delicious, to have him like this.

Flustered, lost in the moment. His hips are rocking up into you, his lips wrapped around the intrusion of your fingers.

Incredible.