#like that was PERSONAL so now i'm gonna have to adjust my pants so no more ladies can do wriggling their way up there

[ratcandy]

anyway one (1) con of working regularly with tons of bugs is that now every time I feel something lightly brush against any part of my body my brain just immediately jumps to IS THAT A BEE and I get a fun momentary surge of panic

[jsprnt]

your vacation with your best friend doesn’t go as expected

jude bellingham x childhood best friend! reader

A/N: tuesday became thursday, but it’s up now!! based on this request!

W/C: 2.534

"wait for me! why are you walking so fast?!"

you shout, hurrying up and fastening your pace to match your best friend's younger brother's, jobe.

the white sandals on your matching white-polished feet, click-clack against the ground in repeated noises.

to some it would sound absolutely horrendous, it attracted attention from your surroundings. the sudden attention would make some squirmy, making them walk slower or even freeze in their spot.

to you, it was the sound of heaven. clicking flip-flops or sandals against the ground meant: warm weather and, of course, being on vacation.

"not my fault you're so much shorter.." the younger boy complains, black sunglasses framing his face- accompanied by his attitude, it made him look even more sassy.

"do jude and you, like- practice the same sentences or retorts?" you question, panting when you’re finally walking side by side.

"mhm, we have a whole book.." he hums sarcastically, and you swear you can see him roll his eyes through the black shades.

"of course, expected from the brothers who brainstorm instagram captions together.." you giggle at the memory, recalling the wrinkles and frowns on their face from overthinking so much. only for the final caption to be a single word or emoji..

"you don't understand.." jobe mumbles, throwing you a glance.

"it has to be absolutely perfect, it gives .."

"aura."

"aura.." you say the same word in unison, giving him a grin.

"yes, that book probably exists.."

"whatever, just come in..."

"I'm right behind you.." you speak, playing with the plastic bag in your hand as you both stand in the elevator. going up to your hotel room floor.

the white, tacky printed plastic bag was evidence of your quick aloe vera run to the local spanish pharmacy.

you knew, no matter the melanin in a persons skin. sun protection and after sun care were essential for everyone's health and wellbeing.

of course, jobe was nice enough to accompany you. in case you'd get scammed into paying twice the normal amount as a foreigner- who definitely didn't speak a lick of spanish.

well, jobe wasn't a pro either. though, his google translate expertise is always very welcome.

"okay, be ready in 45.."

"only? who said that?" you question, mentally calculating how you'll shower, do your makeup, and fix your hair in that time frame.

"jude just texted me.."

"isn't he the one who takes like an hour to do anything?" you scoff, pulling your room key out of your handbag.

"I don't know, y/n. would you be so kind to hurry up.." jobe gives you a fake smile, pushing you into your room.

"I'm gonna kill him if he's any later than me!" you exclaim, shutting your door.

you take a quick breath, quickly moving around your hotel room. you had your outfit and shoes picked out already, so you could speed through your routine without worrying about that.

you use every single minute properly, swinging your door open right at the 45-minute mark.

you adjust your dress, looking out your door to see both jude and jobe, leaning against the wall. jobe face deep into his phone.

"so.." you say, eyeing them carefully. though, your eyes stay glued on your best friend, jude.

the beige, linen shirt, complementing his, vacation bronzed skin tone perfectly. with his sleeves rolled up, you can feel your face heat up more than the current marbella weather.

just like, when you'd received a fat kiss on the cheek from a nine-year-old jude, back in year four, when you'd finally passed your time tables after trying so hard.

"you guys look nice, stylist?" you inquire, looking them up and down.

"all us.." jude chimes, proud smile on his face. eyes crinkling as the corners of his mouth curl up.

"mhm, improved.." you mumble, stepping out of your room and shutting your door. quickly tucking your room card in your clutch.

"okay, but you've improved so much. remember you almost died for those led, light-up sneakers? and now you're wearing high heels to go out.."

jobe pretends to shed a few fake tears, making you roll your eyes.

"come on, if we start talking about a fashion terrorist. you're number one on the list, before you even had a stylist or all this.."

"can't lie about that, man.." jobe laughs, already following you to the elevator. you don't notice the lingering eyes on you, jude's eyes stuck on your back.

eventually, after quite a cute taxi ride, with the driver coincidentally being a madridista, you arrive at the beach club. sun beaming down on your moisturized skin.

you quickly become busy with everyone around you, tipping back drink after drink.

you'd never been much of a social person, at least not before jude started dragging you to different parties or vacations.

I mean, it was difficult for you two to be apart from each other for so long. despite the fact that you lived so far from each other lately.

when you'd met back in primary school, at age six. your parents knew you would be joined by the hip for the rest of your lives.

playing in the sandbox, and building sand castles went to taking up football together. only for you to fall out after picking up a different hobby. while jude grew a sudden affection for the sport, making it his life goal to succeed in the football industry, just like his idols.

his focus and passion for the sport definitely stretched you both apart for a while. only for you guys to grow a stronger bond when he told you about his move to germany, to sign with bvb.

you became a busy university student, trying for the life of you to understand the effects of a torn acl for your next anatomy exam.

an aspiring orthopedic surgeon and a successful football player, made an interesting duo of friends.

you swirl the cosmopolitan in your hand, watching the pink liquid move in the clear glass with sudden interest.

you slowly pull yourself from your half-drunk trance, looking to your left, when you hear your best friend's name being shouted by an unfamiliar, shrill voice.

you watch as a blonde, fully made up lady touches jude on his shoulder. the light, but intimate touch makes you squint. a sudden ache starting to settle in your chest when you watch her perfectly manicured nails scratch against the fabric of his shirt, sleeves tight around his veiny biceps.

you clench your eyes closed, a sigh leaving your mouth before you move your head away from the sudden, torturous sight.

when you look down, you immediately notice your plain, stress-bitten nails. the sight is unsettling, though familiar- with all your exams, and your parttime job, piling stress on your body.

you run your fingers down your thumb nail, wishing you could fully enjoy your early twenties like the girl who just jumped into the pool, wearing the prettiest mini dress, without a care in the world. Or, like the other girl, who's mingling around, sniffling out a potential kiss or cuddle for the night.

you flicker your gaze back to jude, his hand going over to stabilize the blonde bombshell in front of him. keeping her up with a hand on his back, and a handsome smile on his face.

you bite your lip unconsciously, drawing blood when the girl smiles back. the blood mixes with your glittery gloss, making you swipe your tongue down your bottom lip.

jealousy, or whatever this was- it made you sick, nauseous. you tip your drink, the rest of the liquid entering your veins with fire.

love wasn't a first come, first serve..

you get up from your little seat, being back at the bar in no time to get yourself another one to soothe the burn and ache in your chest.

"y/n?" you look to your left, making eye contact with a relaxed-looking jobe. a can nursed in his right hand.

"you shouldn't drink, you're a baby.." you mutter, drunkenly ordering yourself a water.

alcohol cleaned up wounds right?

yes.

but, not emotional ones..

seeing jobe, so calm and collected, brings you back from your mental breakdown.

you knew, even with your common sense hanging by a single thread. your current predicament would never, ever switch up suddenly- just because you're actively damaging your liver.

"I'm above eighteen, 'member?" jobe speaks, eyes on the way you're sipping on your room temperature water.

"still a baby.." you mutter, giving him a look from above the rim of your glass.

he shivers, even with the weather reaching record temperatures, your scolding look scares him a little.

"mood swings? you were so jumpy and happy in the car.."

you groan, discreetly moving your head so jobe can see the sight you are being tortured with.

"he's literally just talking.."

"he's touching her everywhere.." you groan, looking up at jobe.

the younger boy knew about the way you secretly admired his older brother. it was difficult to hide after he'd stumbled upon a random note in your notebook when you were seventeen, containing pros and cons about dating jude, written by you.

you were so gone, the cons list was emptier than a pigeon's nest.

"he's not touching anyone, like at all. actually he's walking towards us.."

you gasp, eyes going wide as ever as you raise your head. afraid to look behind you in case he's right there.

"if you're lying, I-"

"what's all this? talking shit without me?"

you do a silent prayer, closing your eyes for a second before twisting your bar stool around.

you gasp when your chair wobbles, sudden, muscular arms wrapping themselves around your waist to keep you sitting down.

"you okay? drunk already, darlin'?"

you almost whimper at the nickname, clearing your throat when you jump out of your initial shock.

"mhm, had some water just now.."

torture, torture, and torture..

you clench your teeth uncontrollably, resting face looking something like you're about to explode..

"you don't look okay.." he mutters, bringing his hand up to cup your face, checking your temperature with his palm. 

"I'm fine.."

You shove his hands off, looking away. you try to keep your emotions at bay, the strings of your patience on the verge of snapping violently.

"I need- to go to the restroom.." you finally squeak, getting up and brushing shoulders with an incredibly confused jude.

the interaction garners a couple looks, and jobe immediately nudges jude. realizing he could become the match maker of the century..

"follow her, come on.." he urges, pushing his older brother away.

"I mean, did I say something wrong? Or did I do something bad?"

"go.."

the single worded response by jobe, has him following you. hot on your heels.

you gasp when you feel a sharp tug on your arm, getting pulled into a small room, right next to the staff room.

you blink, opening your mouth to scream bloody murder, but stop when you hear jude's voice.

"it's me, you're okay.."

he mutters quietly, and you can hear him rummaging around. finally, his hand makes contact with the light switch. the very dim light, making it possible to see him.

"what was that back there?" he questions, and just like the other occasions you've witnessed him being confused or angry, his accent thickens.

brown eyes stare into yours, and you shiver before looking away.

"said I'm fine, jude.."

"you cannot fool me, y/n. we've shared too many years together for me to not notice when you're not acting right." his hand reaches for yours, and you let him. like a love sick fool, you allow him to cross boundaries and enter your portal of comfort.

"you must like her, go ahead and date her.." you finally speak after a long silence, making jude's hold on your hand tighten.

"who?" he breathes, knotting his brows together with a frown. his heart begins thumping harder in his chest.

"the woman you were talking with..

you can feel immense embarrassment brewing in your chest. your breath shaky as you look back into his beautiful brown eyes.

"the woman I was - how does that indicate I like her? I can't talk with a woman, just because?"

you close your eyes in humiliation, biting your lip.

"is that not what it was?"

"chatting with a random person does not mean I fancy them.."

you clear your throat, no turning back now.

"oh, how else do you start showing you fancy someone? standing there like a robot?"

"you're unbelievably stupid.."

"I'm stupid?!" you question, voice high as your eyes widen in surprise.

your breath hitches when you feel a hand on your cheek, again jude's hand is warm. soft but his hold is rough around the edges. making sure you're looking directly into his eyes.

"you're so stupid, in the fifteen years of us knowing each other. have you, ever thought of why I've never brought a single girl home? introduced a girl as my girlfriend to you? to my parents even?"

your jaw closes, not a single peep leaving your lips.

you can feel his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your cheek, it gives you goosebumps instantly. your eyes not leaving his for a millisecond.

"now you won't even speak.."

he sighs, moistening his plump lips with the tip of his tongue.

the sight lures you in fully, the look of longing in your eyes, mixed with an unknown feeling of euphoria.

jude notices the eyes, those eyes made him melt every time he saw you. since the age of fourteen, you'd been the sole person who'd occupy the romantic emotions in his very heart and soul..

it's his cue, he thinks. this is it.

you're incredibly jealous, or sad he thinks. the way you're looking at him, all allured and eager.

without even realizing it, your lips inch closer. soft, warm breaths hitting each other's, makes you almost whimper. his hold on your jaw tightens, and he presses his plump lips against yours in a fervent kiss.

your hand reaches up to his bicep, the muscles on display the entire evening- tensing up under your needy touch.

he groans into the kiss, both eyes fluttering shut in relief.

a hand travels down to your waist, pads of his fingers making contact with the exposed skin on your midriff. softly running his hands down your burning skin.

he pulls back for air, your foreheads touching intimately as you both pant. lingering smile on your face when you look up at him.

"I love you and your pretty mouth, but next time don't jump to conclusions with this smart brain of yours.."

you chuckle. initial shock gone, earlier anger and frustration washed away by the single touch of his lips onto yours.

"I know, I'm sorry. I- I love you too.."

the words feel foreign falling from your lips, especially with knowing who's on the receiving end of your receptieve answer.

"why don't you just help me get used to your taste?”

he tilts your head, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

after years of crushing, right now, within a heartbeat, he's yours.

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Two

This AU got a lot more attention than I expected actually hfjdks I'm so glad everyone likes it!

Anyway, here's part two! We get some concert, some peeks at how Robin helps Steve navigate social situations, and a little Eddie having an itsy-bitsy crisis over Steve's fashion choices.

Have fun! And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't (especially for this one since I wrote most of it on my phone actually lmao)

----

Steve stares at the shirts laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. Choosing jeans had been easy, but choosing a shirt is giving him trouble. What do you wear to a metal show at the local dive bar for a small-town band in which the lead singer is a long-time and way-out-of-your-league crush that you've been holding a candle for since the first time you saw him laugh on top of a cafeteria table?

You definitely don't show up in a plain black shirt, that's for sure.

The lights in the hall outside Steve's room flicker, switching off and on three times. Steve just barely notices, which means he doesn't get his pants scared off when Robin appears in the doorway, grinning at him while pocketing the key to the front door he'd given her months ago into a messenger bag. "Hey, dingus," she says, striding into the room and flopping onto the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes, yanking the shirts out from under her and laying them once more over Robin's stomach and legs. "What shirt should I wear?" he asks.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to look from the shirts to Robin, and she patiently waits until he's staring at her to say, "Just pick one. Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing."

"I care," Steve says, frowning as he looks back at the shirts. For the aforementioned crush reason, Steve cares very much about the shirt he wears. "What says 'Hi, we've never talked before but your music is the only thing I can hear and I think your hair is in desperate need of quality shampoo and also I've been halfway in love with you since, like, sophomore year'?"

Robin considers the question for a long moment before picking up a red sweater. "This one says 'I'm horny'," she offers.

Steve blinks, staring at the sweater for a few beats before laughing. "But I'm not," he says.

Despite looking at Robin, she happens to angle her head toward the sweater, and her response is lost on Steve. He frowns, waits until her jaw has stopped moving, and says, "I didn't get that."

After Robin first learned about Steve's deafness, he'd been overly anxious about asking her to repeat things. Somehow, it was worse to constantly ask when the person knew he couldn't hear well, if at all. But Robin had never shown annoyance; she'd just adjust her posture, make sure Steve could see her lips, and repeat her words. She does all of this now, and Steve gets to read her joking response, "Yeah, but you will be."

And, yeah, she has him there. Steve huffs and collapses onto the bed beside her, sacrificing the shirts. "I'll need a jacket," he says, turning his head to look at Robin so he can read her response.

Instead of words, though, he sees her face light up, and she jumps off the bed. Steve sits up, watching as she digs in her messenger bag before pulling out a t-shirt. "Remember when I stayed over a few weeks ago? And you let me borrow a shirt? You should wear it!"

Thankfully, Robin waits until she's done talking to throw the shirt in Steve's face. Honestly, he only understood a few words ("remember," "borrow," and "wear") but he's gathered enough context clues to get the gist of things.

He spreads the shirt out, humming at the Iron Maiden design. It's not one he wears often; for the most part, it's a shirt he wears on lazy days at home because of how soft it is. But as he's studying the design, Steve is suddenly hit with a stroke of pure genius.

He quickly changes into the shirt and then grabs a varsity jacket (not his letterman, but one he'd seen at the mall and bought on a whim because it used a nice shade of yellow) off his desk, tugging it on over the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. After a few more seconds of digging around, he finds sneakers under the bed and tugs them on.

"Okay," he says, turning so Robin can see the outfit from every angle. He comes to a stop when he's facing her once more, hands buried in his jacket pockets, and asks, "What do you think? How's it look?"

"I think you'll give Eddie a crisis," Robin replies, wrinkling her nose at the varsity jacket. "Not, like, a bad one. But he'll probably ask where you got the shirt from."

Steve grins, thinking that sounds about perfect, and turns to study himself in the mirror. It's a surprisingly solid blend of metal and jock, and it makes him feel oddly confident, the same way he felt the first time he did his hair just right and everyone complimented it.

"Perfect," he decides. "Let's go."

----

The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.

She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."

"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.

"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."

With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."

The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.

Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.

He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.

When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"

"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.

"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."

With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.

Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.

His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.

Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.

A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:

"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone

Guy: Fuck off, Munson

Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"

Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.

When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.

"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."

Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.

In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.

And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.

So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.

And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.

Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.

It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.

He's hopeless.

He's desperate.

He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.

----

For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.

So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.

As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.

"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.

Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.

"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.

"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."

Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?

Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."

Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.

It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.

"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.

And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.

Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."

There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"

Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.

Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?

Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.

----

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

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[mcflymemes]

ANYONE BUT YOU (2023) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

you still live at 28 fuckboy lane?

there's a reason why you're alone. no one can trust you.

i still think about the night we spent together.

these last few days really made me realize how much i miss you.

that night at your place, no matter how it ended, it was still pretty amazing.

so... you gonna kiss me now?

you'll always be my rock bottom.

okay, nuzzle my neck. get in there.

we are not together. we were faking it the whole time.

we have to kick it up a notch. make it feel like we're in the ga-ga stage.

you know, i feel really bad about that.

did you catch him measuring his dick with a ruler app?

you scared the shit out of me.

we're getting pretty good at faking it.

it doesn't matter how we found out.

permission to put my left hand on your right buttock?

okay, not in circles. it's not a magic lamp.

are you not wearing underwear?

we do not inherit the earth. we just borrow it from our creatures.

i have a better idea. you just let me do everything.

thanks for being so cool about all of this.

you want a coffee? it's the best n the world.

there's only one bed, but we hung a shower curtain in the middle.

hi. where's your bathroom?

i could have done it myself, but whatever. thanks.

thanks for not stealing my coat.

is that really a two person job?

you would let me die?

they think i'm throwing my life away.

no, that was rude. i apologize to anyone that was listening.

i don't know. i'm not good at this, sorry.

i'm from a different generation.

i'm not talking about love. i'm talking about dick.

all that matters is that we're together.

that's not me anymore. i'm free now. i'm deprogrammed.

no way, that man does not have a heart.

well, that didn't take long.

if i never ask you for anything ever again, can you please just lay off of me this weekend?

let's just have a moment to calm ourselves.

no one cares. no one can see us.

we were on a break, asshole.

either way, someone's lying to someone.

i must have really gotten under your skin.

you used none of those terms properly.

i cannot believe i just said that out loud.

i'm sorry. my life is a disaster right now.

look at this place. it looks like every serial killer reenactment documentary.

no matter how broken something is, there's always a way to fix it.

this whole thing is so new to me.

i don't really like labels, but i like you a whole bunch.

so are you going to ask me out now?

so if we were getting attacked by giant spiders, you would not be able to protect us?

you two know each other?

i'm going to go grab a drink. door's that way if you're looking to sneak out. i know that's your thing.

i'm going to get a drink and toast to never seeing you again.

how crazy is it that we're on the same plane?

why do so many of us feel stuck?

you don't even play tennis.

we're fine if he just stays away from me.

you're such a romantic.

i was hoping you'd come. i wanted to message you, but i didn't know how you'd feel about hearing from me.

they're also a little worried how you're gonna react to all this.

you have a little something in your teeth.

we need to come up with a game plan.

you are so terrible at this.

it's harder than you think.

they know i would never go out with a guy like you.

we just suck face in front of everybody.

you're calling me a fuckboy like it's an insult? i own that shit.

let's just be affectionate. i know it's a foreign concept for you.

you were the one who said there's a thin line between love and hate.

i think it was more of a euphemism for crying alone.

i definitely didn't hate you.

last night was the first thing i haven't regretted in a long time.

i love the weird way you stick your hand down my pants.

[coquettejunnie]

[ ୨୧ ] ── What I Cherish The Most

"And I'll take some time- just to be thankful that I had days full of you, you. Before it winds down into the memories, it's all just memories- la-la-la-la-la. "

୨୧ Pairing: Yuta Nakamoto x Fem!Reader・Wc: 0.6 (672) / fluff (makes me giggle while twirling), skinship, kissing, petnames (baby) ! ♡ type: headcanon

In which. . . Yuta is craving for some attention. So he decides to bother his girlfriend so she can do something about it.

now playing: get you by daniel ceasar (ft. kali uchis)

Rose's Note: This was originally supposed to be for my ot8 post but decided to just send it separately since it was longer than the rest of them. This is not the story that I was saying that I was gonna write something else to fix my last post but I just wanted to send it out so it wouldn't be in my drafts. This is also dedicated to Yuta's iconic lip pursing. It's just so freakin wholesome.

As you were laying on your bed while reading an article on your laptop while being unaware of your surroundings, you sensed a figure that came close to you- which was your boyfriend, Yuta. He went on the bed and crawled towards you with the covers over him. You were trying so hard to keep a poker face because you couldn't help but adore him. Even though he acts childish, you couldn't get enough of him.

"What are you doing?" you tilted your head in confusion.

He used his hand to demonstrate for you to continue, "Continue what you were doing."

"You're distracting me with your cute self." you tapped his forehead.

"You know you love it though." he said in a teasing tone. "I love attention. Baby, I need it right now. I'm desperate." he scooted at each word that escaped his lips sarcastically.

You closed your laptop with a short sigh then crossed your arms while looking down at him, waiting for an answer. He laid his head on your lap as he started to play with your pants strings.

"Can you rub my head, please?" he questioned as he looked up at you.

"Yeah." you started to caress his head which his lips curved into a smile.

"Thank you." he said while jokingly singing. He moved his head forward to try and kiss you on the lips but you dodged it.

"Hey, what was that for?" he turned his whole body to give you his attention.

"Should I really give you a kiss?" you pretended like you were thinking hard about it.

"Yeah, you should give me a kiss. Now gimme one." he leaned forward as he pursed his lips. You couldn't help but laugh at it.

You flipped the blanket over his head. "You didn't say please though."

You started to crawl away but before you could reach the end of the bed, he pulled your legs closer and flipped you on your back so he would be over you. He started to plant many kisses on your face as it was making you giggle.

"You're killing me, Yuta!" you said in between your laughs. "Okay, you win!"

He kissed your cheek then looked into your eyes. "I can't help but gatekeep you from this world. You're so precious." he tapped your nose then continued to send you his love- as in kissing you nonstop.

You gave up and indulged him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he continued to do what he was doing. He adjusted the blankets over the both of you as he never broke away from the kiss.

"Can I kiss you forever?" he said in between the kisses.

"You can't do it forever because we have to do important things to do at some point."

"And what are more important things that we have to do where I can't kiss you like this forever, hmm?"

"Like work? There are such things as working." you answered back.

"Nope, we can skip that." Yuta continued to plant kisses on you but instead of your cheek, his lips traveled down to the crook of your neck as he let out a long relieved sigh. "I love you so, so much." you felt his breath brush against your skin.

After a few seconds- which felt like forever, Yuta removed his lips away from your skin as he turned his attention towards you. "Y/n, did you know that you're the only person besides my parents that I cherish the most?"

You smiled from his sudden response which made him smile too. He laid down on your chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

"I love you, Yuta." you caressed his forehead. He leaned in forward as you indulged him to kiss you. You guys both melted into the soft but yet tender kiss.

"I love you too, Y/n." he said in between the kiss while his lips formed into a smile against yours.

And that is what you cherish the most. Yuta Nakamoto.

[queers-gambit]

Aces

prompt: ( requested ) during a terrible storm, you're invited to stay at your boss' house. years of tip-toeing around one another comes to an end when emotions are finally laid on the table.

pairing: Tommy Shelby x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Peaky Blinders

word count: 3.5k+

warning: honestly, it's pretty tame. some cursing, kinda-sorta one bed, most def OC Tommy, fluff, author is def on the Grace Hating Train but it's mild.

With a grunt, you threw the file of paperwork from your hands across the empty room; scattering across the floor. You were agitated, grouchy, beyond exhausted, and yet, there was no use in trying to leave when the worst storm to ransack England was being unleashed from the seediest parts of hell.

All you wanted was to go to bed for about 16 hours, but as midnight ticked closer and closer, that dream was dwindling. You'd be lucky to get a few hours at this point since your job was demanding enough to warrant early mornings and late nights. But this night was later than ever before.

You often wondered if your employer's antics brought this hell-storm upon you all, but figured, God didn't care that much about Small Heath. He most certainly didn't care for the Devil running it.

"Woah!" A voice laughed when the file went flying. "Gott'an arm on yah, love! Nearly took me fuckin' eye out!"

"Ha-ha," you mocked John Shelby, your employer's younger brother. "What're you still doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same," he smirked, squatting so he was in front of you with an exaggerated pout. "Why're you still here, love? Tommy's still gotcha workin'?"

"No, it's my own vocation."

"Tommy don't pay overtime, sweetheart."

"No shit," your eyes rolled. "In case I'm the only one capable of seeing it, there's an outlandish storm outside that prevents me from getting home." You gestured around where you sat on the floor, surrounded by files and other paperwork, "So, what else was I gonna do to pass the time?"

"It's not that bad," he waved you off. "C'mon, I'm off t'the Garrison, come with me, love. We can drink 'til the storm passes, huh?"

"John, seriously, I'm warning you," you deadpanned, watching him adjust his flatcap.

"C'mon, sweet cheeks, we can endure it," he laughed, opening the door and literally being shoved back by the force of the wind. You didn't make a sound, just reaching to hold down the papers around you as he grunted and groaned, trying to shut the flailing door; only able to once he threw his entire weight into it.

"Told you," you mused, his face and coat dripping wet from the short time the door was open.

"So, you're staying here, then?" He asked, panting, trying to play off the entire ordeal.

"I figured I'd get some more work done, it's not like Tommy gives any days off," you shrugged.

"He'd give you whatever you asked for," John smirked, taking his coat off.

"No, he needs me to do shit on the daily, there aren't days off, John Boy," you rolled your eyes playfully. "But I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to work for you idiots."

"Hey," he pouted.

"Oh, honey, if it helps any, you're my favorite idiot!"

"Good," he pointed at you with a small laugh. "But seriously, love, if you need the day off, Tommy would do it."

"No, there's so much to do here," you frowned. "We're on track to reopen in a few weeks, and if I take a day off, we'll fall behind, and you know Tommy doesn't do delays."

The gambling den the Shelby's operated was getting a make over now that The Shelby Company Limited was soon to be up and running. Hence why you were there in an empty room with only files around you and a dimly lit lap, you were trying to get shit organized before furniture could be moved back in.

You would have to restock Polly's office, Tommy's, Arthur's, and John's - all of who were Company members and would need their space to work. Not to mention the completely different office Tommy was currently eyeing to use as his base of operation, something you, as his personal assistant, was expected to help with every step of the way. Honestly, it was a miracle Tommy was ever able to get shit done before you - an organizational Goddess.

"Well," John sighed, looking around for a moment before shrugging and placing his hands on his hips, "want some help?"

You chuckled, "No, it's all right, John, you go on. Surely the lads will be home soon - "

Speak of the Devil! And He will appear!

The door burst open, sending your files every which way from the gust of wind; several bodies shoving their way inside before the lone, single body of Tommy Shelby stalked in last. He shut the door without issue, being a force of nature himself; a professionally observant, silent, lone menace that commanded the attention of any room he walked into. People on the street parted for him like the Red Sea, flocked to the darkened parts of the streets just to get a glimpse of the gangster in motion.

For as long as you can remember, you've harbored overwhelming affection for your boss, but never once vocalized it out of sheer fear of rejection.

He was Thomas Shelby. He was an enigma; a mysterious, stoic man that instilled a sense of fear and respect from those around him. You included, but yet never dare let your admiration for your employer be known in public. You loved him from a distance; admiring him and feeling yourself fall further into your unrequited love due to the intimate proximity you shared. He's always treated you as exactly what you were - a valuable member of the Company and his personal assistant. You worked intimately together on a daily basis, and each night you went home, you would scream into a pillow out of sheer frustration.

Being his personal assistant meant you were constantly in close proximity, and no matter how hard you tried to fight your feelings, it was impossible. He was Thomas bloody Shelby - insanely suave, charismatic, a deep nut to crack, but once he opened up, he was insanely loyal, caring, even decently amusing. He was all you wanted, but never felt secure enough to admit your feelings for him.

You were greeted happily by the men, all piling into the Shelby home to take refuge from the storm. You were left to silently rock to your feet and start gathering the papers that had gone flying in their entrance, glancing up when a hand offered help in rounding up your supplies. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby, but I got it," you insisted quietly, accepting the pages he handed you.

Tommy always had a soft spot for you.

He was silent for a moment, then asked, "What're you still doin' here?"

"Storm makes it impossible to get home," you shrugged. "I was waiting until it lessened, but it doesn't seem to," you glanced out the window, still shuffling files and papers together.

"You've worked all day," he sighed, "c'mon."

"Uh... Where?"

"Think you've earned a drink," he eased, already striding out of the room. You quickly finished gathering your papers, stacking them all together, but was pleasantly shocked when Tommy returned to the empty room with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

"Mr. Shelby, don't - "

But he was already sat on the ground, back against a wall, watching you with amusement. "Think a man's too good to sit on the floor?" He asked, uncorking the bottle.

"When their suit is so expensive that I have to take it to a specific cleaners, perhaps, then yes," you answered truthfully.

"I've money to spare, I can send this suit to be cleaned by another errand boy, you won't have to any longer," he poured two glasses of whiskey, "but tonight's company is too good to pass up."

You laughed, "Oh, no, what did you do?"

"Hmm?"

"You're kissing my arse a little, what've you done? What mess do I have to clean tomorrow?"

He smirked as you finally sat beside him, a bit stiffly, but accepted the drink he served. "Nothing, love, this storm's put a halt on everything," he gestured to the window, unaware that your heart stalled in your chest when you heard him call you 'love'. "What is it you were working on?" He asked, fingering the few files stacked between you. "Ah," he mused, reading the titles of the packets, "trying to get a jump on tomorrow, huh?"

"Not very much else to do," you shrugged. "I... I got a little frustrated. I think I'll need Polly to go over a few things with me."

"I'm sure you've got it," he spoke quietly. "I wouldn't have hired you if incapable."

You nodded, "Right, of course, sir."

Mr. Shelby offered you a look, taking a swig of whiskey. "You know, after hours, you don't have to be so professional."

"You didn't hire me to be unprofessional, though."

"No, I didn't, but this isn't a work meeting," he offered his glass. "We can still be friendly, can we not?"

You clinked his glass with yours, "Sure, of course we can..." How the hell could you be 'friendly' to the man you've pined after for the past two years? "So, I heard Grace skipped town," you started, instantly wincing when you realized what you said. "I-I'm so sorry, Mr. Shelby, I didn't mean to - "

But he chuckled, "You heard correct." He waited a long moment, then offered, "She's gone - for good."

You tested the waters, "Is... That a good thing?"

"It is."

"I thought you liked the barmaid?"

"I thought I did, too, but I've been wrong before."

"I doubt that."

"No, truly," he smirked, "I've made my fair share of mistakes."

"That you'd be willing to admit to?"

"Well, that's a different story," he mused, downing the last of his glass. "C'mon," he decided, sitting up, "the others are in the den, if you'd like to join?"

"Oh, no, I don't wish to intrude."

"Where were you going to sleep, then? If this storm doesn't die off in the next hour?" You gestured to where your coat and belongings were bunched up beside you, shrugging lightly. "No, absolutely not," he glared when he took in your makeshift bed, "you're coming in, you'll stay the night here."

"No, you lot are having family time - "

"And why do you assume you aren't family yet?" He asked sharply, making you reel back a little. "Three years, you've worked with my family, a portion of that before any of us came home. C'mon, love, you're more family than others wish to pretend to be."

"You mean that?" You worried softly.

He offered a look of mild offense, "I don't speak to hear the sound of my own voice. I would not say it if I did not mean it."

The whiskey in your system encouraged you to offer a sharp look, snipping, "It would not kill you to just say, 'Yes, I mean it.'"

Tommy smirked lightly, nodding, "Yes, I mean it. Come, you'll stay here tonight."

You couldn't fight off the smile even if you tried. With your coat and purse in one hand, Tommy took the other to help you off the floor. Like a gentleman, he took your belongings before leading you further into the Shelby home; leaving the empty gambling den to find the others all stuffed around a table with a card game loudly being played; fireplace stoked to life.

Polly greeted you happily, not knowing you were still here. Tommy set your things to the side as Arthur wrangled you into the seat beside him - insisting you had to be on his team! A quick sniff of his tea mug assured he was waist deep in the whiskey.

"Okay! New player at the table!" John announced, yanking all the cards back to hand over to Polly. They were all smoking, minus you and Finn. "You all know the rules - hey, hey, hey, no! Tommy's not on her team!" He pointed at you and his brother, who had sat beside you to sandwich you between Shelby's.

"Why not?" Tom asked, accepting the tea from Polly as Finn handed you your own.

"Thank you, little love," you whispered, pecking his cheek as he giggled.

"Becuase you two can communicate without words - it's fucking weird!" John insisted. "All right! Polly, you're with Tommy - the fucker likes to cheat."

"Being better than you isn't cheating, John Boy."

"Is when there's money on the line!" John laughed, Arthur leaning over to explain to you the game. He was actually a very good teacher, and even for a few rounds, you weren't a "viable player" just to let you watch and get the gist of things.

However, when you joined the game, it was far more intense than you had given credit for. But the Shelby's were competitive lads, Polly just happy to laugh and remind the boys of the rules; letting them dominate the table as you were content to just watch, laugh, and sip your tea. After a few rounds, Finn came over and hopped up on your lap, declaring you two a team now, and believe it or not, you won the next three hands!

"CHEATERS! AYE!?" John yelled, laughing right after as a boom of thunder rattled the home.

"No, call that beginners luck!" Arthur tried to defend, Tommy lighting a new cigarette.

"Or maybe John's just not accustomed to losing?" You grinned. "Especially from a lady?"

"I lost to a lady? Where? Where is she?" John looked around comically, earning a swift kick under the table that rattled the tea cups.

"All right, all right, next hand, we play for money, come on, come on, bets in the center," Polly instructed. "Finn, don't," she warned and you reached up to push the lad's hand down as he was ready to toss in a few pounds.

"Here, I'll cover us," you told the little lad, both grinning when you offered money to the center. Unknown to you, Tommy was keeping mental track of however much you were betting - intent to pay you back. Yet he didn't say anything, content to watch you and Finn have fun together.

Arthur and John were the most vocal of the group, arguing about scores and tallies and who won which round. You chuckled as Finn leaned into your chest, everyone waiting for the two to finish arguing; Polly looking over with a broad smirk before dropping her gaze. Tommy had seemingly naturally moved closer to you, one arm extended behind your chair to keep you close to his warmth.

Neither seemed to notice.

Not even when you would turn to crack a joke directly in Tommy's ear, his lips spreading in an easy smile that made Polly fight off her own grin. Grace was something special to Tommy, sure, this was true, but after the time together, she could tell that the two of you had become something more - without even verbalizing it.

Never realizing.

Hours passed, the storm still raged, two cartons of cigarettes was smoked between the lot of them, and there was no clear winner in sight. Finn had fully deflated into your embrace, asleep despite the loud thunder and blinding flashes of lightning. Your head had lulled onto Tommy's shoulder, sleep clawing at your eyelids as you listened to a drunken John and Arthur still argue about the card game. Polly eventually called it quits and bid everyone a goodnight, smiling softly when she noted the cozy seating between you and Tommy.

The longer you sat there, you more exhausted you became.

"C'mon, love," Tommy whispered softly, rousing you from your half-sleep, "let's get you to bed. C'mon, up you get," he smirked, aiding you from your chair as you kept a firm hold on his little brother. "We'll see you lot in the morning," he told his brothers.

"Night," John and Arthur waved, still deep into their argument, but smirking to one another when Tommy lead you up the stairs. When you were gone from sight, John leaned in and asked his eldest brother, "Think Tommy'll make a move tonight?"

Arthur glanced up the stairs, musing, "If he doesn't, he might be stupider then we thought."

John agreed.

Upstairs, Tommy opened the bedroom door and let you lay Finn softly on his bed, pausing to tug his shoes off and cover him with his blanket; moving his stuffed teddy bear closer and watching his sleeping hand naturally curl around it. You snuck out of the door, Tommy shutting the door, and tangled your hand with his.

Silently, he lead you to his bedroom.

It was small, ridiculously small, but it was enough for his single person. Tommy shut the door after you, moving around, muttering, "You can sleep in this," as he handed you one of his shirts, "and I'll be in the drawing room if you need me - "

"Tommy, I'm not kicking you out of your room," you sighed. "I can sleep on the sofa for the night, it's not - "

"I'm not letting you do that," he refused sharply.

"Then we seem to be at an impasse," you decided with perked brows. "Either we're both sleeping on the sofa or we both crash your bed. You choose."

He chuckled dryly, "And here I thought the whiskey would make you less stubborn."

"Wishful thinking."

He nodded, letting you have the room to change and get under the covers. It was decently cold in his room, more so without pants; the storm doing nothing to remedy that, and when Tommy returned, everything felt different.

A good different, but still different.

Neither of you made eye contact, him joining you in the absurdly small bed after blowing the candles out. You settled on your side, facing the wall, and after a few moments of adjusting, Tommy was settling down - but hesitating to deflate in comfort.

"Is it all right if I, uh... If I...?"

"Yeah, 's all right, Tommy," you whispered, reaching for the hand that hovered over your waist and pulling it so he was curled around you. It was all he needed to readjust, sigh to himself, and deflate against your back. You shivered slightly when his warm breath fanned over your neck and shoulder; his hand splaying over your belly and rubbing his thumb mindlessly. "Thank you for letting me stay the night," you whispered.

"Wasn't gonna send you home in this weather," he answered, voice vibrating the shell of your ear. "Besides," he whispered in a sigh, "this is where I wanted you, and where I wanted to be."

You chuckled, "Oh, yeah? So cold in here you need a warm body in bed with you?"

"No," he whispered, "but I've been in love with you for months now that I didn't want you far from me. Doesn't feel right, seeing you go home without me - everyday. I was overjoyed to come back and see you still here."

"What?" He didn't let you turn around, just kept you both there; locked in your spoon. "Tommy, what're you saying?"

He took a sobering breath, "That this is what I want, this is where I want us to be."

"That's the whiskey talking."

"No, love, it's you," his lips danced across your ear, making you shiver. "It's always been you, but I wasn't in my right mind to do anything about it."

"And now you are?"

"I might be, I couldn't go another minute with you thinking I don't want you - that I don't value you in my life. The fact that you were ready to sleep downstairs hurt me more than I'm willing to admit," he sighed, "and I knew, I needed to confess a few things so you know, you're welcome in this family. You won't ever sleep downstairs, love, you're meant to be here... With me... If you want to be."

You had to slap his hand to get him to loosen his grip and let you turn around to face him; but his hand remained on your, moving up to grip your ribs. In a whisper, you asked, "You're being honest? Genuine?"

"I can't lie to you, you can always tell. So, am I lying?"

"I don't think so," you whispered with skepticism, eyes narrowed. Neither of your voices rose above a whisper, "Why say any of this, Tommy?"

"Because the idea of going another day without at least trying to tell you how I feel was beginning to feel suffocating."

"What about Grace?"

"It's taken me a bit, but I know now that I was infatuated with her simply because I had already decided you were out of my league."

"Do you hear yourself?" You grinned, caressing his cheek. "You're everything I've wished for, Tommy, but know I can't have. You're the one in a league of your own, I'm the one unable to touch you."

His head shook, "You're all I've wanted and more. I wasn't sure you'd think it appropriate - my affection for you - given you work for me."

"The same reason I feared voicing my affection for you, too."

"Now that it's in the open," he whispered, "how do you want to proceed?"

"We can figure logistics out later," you smiled, tracing your fingertips over his face, "but for now, I just want to enjoy this. I never thought you'd look at me the same way, and now that you do, I don't want to look away."

"You won't have to," he whispered. "I'm in this for us, my sweet, if you are."

"Nowhere I'd rather be," you whispered, cuddled close, and simply breathing the same air. For a single moment, Tommy felt unparalleled peace; the shovels quiet, heart content, and body warm.

requesting rules and masterlist

Peaky Blinders masterlist

[nanamissuit]

i’ve had this in my notes for so long but smut with Price?Reader is a new recruit and Price took a personal liking to them.

Favortie - Captian John Price

Pairing: Captain John Price x Recruit!GN Reader MDNI

Warnings: Degrading words, Breeding kink??, Slight humilation, Quickiy?, After care, Smut-fluff. MDNI 18+!!

Honestly he thought it was just a small crush, it would probably go away after a couple of months. But it’s been 3 months and it’s still there. He despised himself for it. I mean you’ve only been there a short amount of time and he’s taken quite a liking. Other recruits even call you “Cap’s favorite” Not even your own name. He never denied the rumors and just let them poke fun at you because they weren’t wrong.

“They started it!!” “I didn’t even mean to bump into you, I said sorry and you hit me so I punched you.” Price was holding the bridge of his nose as he looked across his desk,he looked at you,you looked calm and collected and the girl next to you had a black eye and a bloody nose. “Alright, alright. Just be careful next time.” “Will do Cap.” “THAT’S IT? I HAVE A BLACK EYE AND-" "You started it by hitting em’.” And with that she angrily got up and mumbled. “Only because they're your favorite, I’m done.” You rolled your eyes and watched her leave.

You looked at your captain as you began to get up, he stopped you. “We actually need to talk.” “Hm?” “Come back here, 12:30 A.M. sharp.” You looked at him confused but just nodded as you walked out, you wondered what he could want. It was 12:32 A.M. and you knocked on his office door quietly in case anyone was awake. He opened the door for you and motioned for you to come inside, you took a seat at the usual seat across his desk and he sat at his. “So…What did you need this late at night?” “For no one to be awake, strip.” Your eyes widened noticing he was completely serious “What? I’m sorry-” “Well I figured since you wanna act like a brat, I should treat you like one, yeah?” You gulped a bit and rubbed your thighs together as you unbutton your pants. You felt so embarrassed exposing yourself like this. And he just watched. “When you're done, bend over my desk, be good.” You just nodded and finished undressing and bent over before him as he stood up and licked 2 fingers and shoved it into your tight hole. He watched you squirm. He chuckled darkly, like something you’ve never heard before. “Well now what’s the problem? I always let you off easy and now you act up again hm? You trying to get my attention baby?” In all honesty it was, but it was sure as hell shameful admitting that I mean he was twice your age and you’re thinking about him like that? Entirely inappropriate. But what you’re doing right now? Lets pray no one hears you. 

“Mhm! All for you attention m’sorry please…Need more.” He chuckled at your response as he pulled out his fingers and you whined. “Oh poor baby I'm so sorry, you’ll only be empty for a minute.” Was he mocking you right now? But you had little to no time as he slammed his full length into you. It was painful and it stretched you out. You winced in pain but he let you adjust for a moment.

Once you gave him the go ahead nod he went at it hitting every spot you needed with ease as your hollow and low moans were let out into the room he covered your mouth with his hand and tugged at your hair.

“Do you want everyone to hear who’s making you feel so good, Hm?” You nodded your head yes and with that he slapped your ass, hard enough to leave a handprint but you’ll worry about that later. You were about to finish and he noticed so he let you and he came soon after.

His cum leaked out of your hole and he chuckled as he wrapped a blanket around you and picked you up. “You’ll stay in my bedroom tonight, anyone asks you’re gonna tell ‘em you’re sick yeah?” “Mhm..” “Good.” He opened the door and laid you down on the bed as he got a warm rag and cleaned you up. He then laid down with you and whispered sweet praises to you until you eventually fell asleep. He smiled to himself and fell asleep with you shortly after. 

This wasn't proof-read I'm too tired sorry <3, I hope you enjoy !!

[unidentifiedly]

Mutually beneficial exchange

House x reader R18

- In which house realizes he might have met his match. Oh, and he's got nothing to complain about, for once.

You were determined. This time you were going to get those folders from him. You walked along a corridor in an emptier part of the hospital, and quickly found what you were looking for.

It was hard enough being a freshly graduated trainee, but Cuddy had (in her infinite wisdom) placed you to train under the one and only doctor House.

"Hi House. Slacking off again?" The man's eyes still fixed on his magazine: "Yep. Don’t you have some boring clinic work to do?"

"I could ask you the same question!" You huffed, feigning annoyance.

"True. Why don’t you? Too afraid of disappointing Cuddy when you lose to me in this conversation?"

You pull out a chair from under the desk in the fairly empty room and take a seat opposite to him. "I could never disappoint Cuddy and you know that. I'm at the clinic all the time, and, unlike you, I do my paperwork!"

He rolls his eyes.

"Ugh Yeah, okay. You’re, like, the only person at this hospital who does paperwork. You want a trophy for it?" His little comebacks are quick but there's a glint of playfulness behind his sky blue eyes.

You smile. "Not a trophy, but maybe some recognition would be nice."

He sighs heavily but relents a little.

You do work pretty hard. I guess you deserve a little bit of recognition for that.

Mhhmm. Your eyes travel from his eyes to his lips and back.

He notices you looking at his lips and wonders if you’re trying to hint at something, but he doesn’t want to give anything away.

He tries to keep a straight face but he’s fighting back a smirk.

You notice him leaning closer toward you on his chair. He might not be doing it on purpose, but he definitely is interested in at least something. You make subtle adjustments to your posture and hip position.

"See that's what I think too! What kind of token recognition would you have in mind, doctor?" You put on your sweetest voice.

He’s acutely aware of every movement you make, but tries to remain blasé.

"Something for being a good little worker bee, I suppose." He gives you one of his signature smiles.

"Awh." You raise your eyebrow in a challenging way. "I was kinda hoping you would take the initiative here sir." The "sir" comes out almost mockingly, but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he seems amused.

He smirks.

"Oh so you want me to reward you?"

"Well, it's me who has been working so hard, and you the one who has been hardly working!"

You lean in to whisper in his ear:

"Although, I don't see why it couldn't still be rewarding for both of us." You lean away a bit so you are facing each other, waiting for him to react.

He shivers a little when you whisper. He wasn’t expecting to be that affected, but that’s what you do to him.

He tries to keep his cool and stay aloof, but his voice is a little huskier when he responds:

"You’ve been working very hard, I’ll give you that."

He locks eyes with you, trying to figure out what you have in mind.

Not moving your head away, you reach his pants' tightening waistline with your hand and look down.

With a chuckle, you say: "And you haven't been working, and are clearly hard."

You lightly trace the outlines of his growing bulge with your fingers. Now is the time for him to act, if ever.

His breath catches in his chest, and his lips part involuntarily. He can barely stop his hips from bucking up against your hand.

His voice is rough when he talks; he’s trying to hold himself back, desperately, but it’s a losing battle.

"You’re… You’re a real brat, you know that?"

"Mmhm. And are you going to do something about it?" You lean further in and whisper the last words with your lips almost touching his.

He grabs you roughly by the hips and moves you onto his lap. He looks you dead in the eyes with a mix of lust and challenge in his gaze.

"Oh, I’m gonna do something about it, alright. You just remember that you asked for it, princess."

He closes the distance between you and you kiss him back. First mixing in small bites at his lower lip, you're practically making him groan.

It doesn’t take him long to respond with his own aggressive touches.

He slips one hand under your shirt, his fingers moving across your skin with a feather-like touch. The feeling of your teeth on his lip has him aching and struggling to keep his cool.

You stop the kiss by grabbing him by his jaw playfully and start slowly getting up. He looks like a lost puppy.

House looks up at you, his expression one of both annoyance and arousal.

"And where are you going? You can’t just tease me and then walk away."

You I point at the clock.

"It's my lunch hour. I promised to eat with Wilson and discuss the upcoming gala dinner speeches. As for this" I gesture at his obvious erection, "I'd love to help you out, I get off work at five." Your tone is challenging and seductive.

You want to win this one. He has to make an effort and a move in order to get you in bed with him, no matter how much you may want it too.

He lets out a huff of irritation and crosses his arms across his chest. He’s not happy about this, but he’s also intrigued. He’s not going to give in to you that easily.

"Fine. Go have lunch with Wilson."

He’s trying his damndest to act like he doesn’t care, but the way he shifts in his seat betrays his discomfort and desire.

"Are you jealous, House?"

He looks at you through narrowed eyes, his expression giving away nothing. He’s not about to admit that he is — or that your little stunt has him riled up.

Jealous? No. Why on Earth would I be jealous of that old codger?

"Well, here you are all hot and bothered, and the cute young straight out of medschool trainee who got you in that state is about to leave you hanging to have lunch with your best friend. Why would you be jealous?"

His jaw tenses, and he grits his teeth. He knows you’re baiting him and it’s working.

He knows he should just laugh this off, but his ego and need to feel in control (and the fact that you look like a goddamn dream sitting in his lap) are working against him.

"You really are a little brat, aren’t you." His voice gruff and barely holding together.

You smile and kiss him again, starting to move in an effort to get up, which elicits a groan from him since you are still on his lap.

He grabs you by the hips again, holding you where you are. He can’t help but let out a small moan when you move, but he’s determined not to show how affected he really is.

"You’re not going anywhere yet, sweetheart."

You decide to toy with him more.

"And what are you going to do to stop me from my lunch plans? You better have something worth my time planned out for me mister."

You start a low pace grinding movement with your hips, making sure not to give him the full satisfaction he yearns for. You can feel his grip on your hips tightening a bit, and hear his heart racing.

His voice is a little shaky as he responds, his eyes fixed on your face. The feeling of you grinding down in his lap is heavenly but not enough. He wants, no, needs more. He can’t help but jerk his hips upward trying to get more friction, and the way you move is driving him crazy.

"You know damn well what I’m gonna do if you don’t quit teasing me."

"Do it then." You smirk and move your hands across his neck, chest, stomach and abdomen to rest on both sides of his still-clothed aching cock.

He lets out a guttural moan, his eyes closing shut for a moment before he regains his composure and opens them to look at you again.

The way you move your hands over him, teasing and taunting, is too much to bear. House decides he’s done playing your game. He growls, grabbing your wrists in his hands.

"You’re playing with fire, sweetheart."

You let out a surprised moan and pivot your eyes to look at House, his hungry gaze staring right back. You shimmy up to get a better balance with your legs, and start grinding a little harder, in circles, ready to drive him crazy. You fail to mask the desire in your voice, and it trembles as you let out:

"Please, sir."

House’s hands tighten on your wrists involuntarily, his body jerking under you. The way you’re moving, the way you’re begging is making him lose the last shred of restraint he has.

"God, princess. Do you want it that bad?"

You nod as you keep grinding, now feeling the pleasurable tension of his hardness against your clit as you grind on him.

"Ye- yes! I do."

House’s eyes darken with desire as he watches your body move on top of him. His grip on your wrists loosen to allow them to move, and he moves his hands to your hips instead.

He tries to guide your hips to move a little faster, a little harder, to give you both more of the friction you need, but it just feels too damn good.

He’s panting now, trying to hold back, but failing miserably.

"Say it again, princess. Tell me how bad you want it."

"Please, p-please, I need you so bad, I need your cock House, please!"

House shudders, the sound of those words coming from you is enough to make him lose his mind. He lets out an involuntary hiss, and he’s done pretending to be in control of himself. He moves his hands up from your hips to your back, pulling you closer so your chest is almost flush against his.

He growls in your ear, his voice rough:

"You want me? You need me?"

"I need you, sir, please!" The honorific seems to take his desire to an even higher level.

The "sir" on your lips makes him moan again and he tamps down his frustration at how much it turned him on.

He bites your neck, his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin there in a bid to keep himself occupied. He responds in a low, gravelly voice.

"Good girl. You’re going to have me, sweetheart. All of me."

Your hands meet his belt once again, this time starting to open it up. All of his sweet talk and the grinding making you a tad slower. He seems to have lost his patience for waiting around.

House bats your hands away, making quick work of his belt while keeping his eyes locked onto yours. He’s getting more impatient by the second, but he wants to take his time with you and make sure you both feel good.

He grabs your hips again and pulls you closer, his breath hot on your throat.

"Patience, princess. Let me take care of you first."

You, however, have other ideas. You pull his pants to his knees and promptly guide his hand onto your lower stomach closer to your hot core.

"Please sir, I can't wait much longer." Your right hand caressing his cock from on top of his underwear makes him hiss again and throw his head back in pleasure.

House moans and bucks up against your hand, his eyes squeezing shut. He can’t get enough of the way you touch him, the way you say his name. The way you’re begging him.

"Oh, baby girl. You’re gonna be the death of me."

He slides his hand below your skirt, his fingers tracing over the fabric of your panties and seeking out the heat between your legs.

"You’re all worked up, huh? You want me that badly?"

You look down at where you're sitting on his lap, the heat drawing each other closer and closer.

Your breath hitches in your throat for a second when you reach your hand to pull down his underwear, releasing his thick cock which springs up to slap against his abdomen.

You look into his eyes and start to slowly rub circles around the head of his cock with your thumb.

He moans as your hands glide over his cock, his head falling backwards against the chair and wall behind him.

You continue the massage, which soon turns into a full blown handjob. His hands having moved to keep a firm grip of your ass while you use both of your hands to pleasure him.

House is enjoying the way you’re working him, but he wants more. He leans forward, his lips against your ear as he speaks in a low, ragged voice.

"Princess, you don’t know what you’re doing to me. You’re driving me insane."

"You're saying you want to take this further, sir?"

House looks into your eyes for a moment, his gaze intense and unwavering. He’s not about to back down now. He leans in close, his breath hot on your neck as his hands continue to roam you body.

He murmurs the words into your skin:

"I want you, sweetheart. I want all of you, if you’ll let me."

You get up and hear his protests. However, they stop once he realizes what you're doing, and he concentrates on enjoying the show.

You pull your soaked panties down one leg at a time, making sure to sway your hips and look seductive in the process.

With the panties on the floor, you slowly walk closer to him while unbuttoning your shirt, revealing no bra underneath.

House’s eyes are practically glued to your body, drinking in the way you move and the sight of your bare skin.

He’s absolutely entranced as you walk toward him, the shirt unbuttoned tantalizingly slowly. He can’t help but let out an appreciative moan as you reveal yourself to him, his hands clenching into fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to touch you.

"Come on, Doctor sir, you can touch."

You beckon him as you climb back agonizingly slowly, and hover over his lap.

House lets out a low growl, the sound guttural. His eyes rake over your body and he can’t help but reach out to touch you. His hands slide over your thighs, caressing the skin under his palm. When he feels you hovering over him, he can’t take it anymore.

You smile and reach for his cock, pumping up and down a few times before aligning it with your pussy.

"You've been a good boy, sir, you've earned this."

You sit down and moan in pleasure, closing your eyes and grabbing onto the back of the chair behind his neck.

The way you’re moving is absolutely sinful, and House isn’t sure how much more he can take.

He grips the arms of the chair as you start a slow movement, gradually taking it up to a good-paced bounce, drinking in the sight of the great doctor House under you, under your spell.

House’s head falls back as you move, his mouth falling open in a low moan. The sight of you riding him, taking control over him, is almost too much. He tries to maintain eye contact with you, but his eyes are half-lidded with lust.

He reaches out to touch you, his hands caressing your skin and holding onto your hips, guiding your movements as best he can. He can’t get the words out, he’s lost in the feeling of you around him and the sight of you above him.

He groans, getting closer to his release, and so are you.

House is getting closer to his peak, the feel of your body against his and the sight of you above him working him into frenzy.

He lets out another guttural moan, his eyes closing tightly as he tries to hold on for just a little longer. His fingers dig into the skin at your hips, his body tense as he fights against the overwhelming feeling building inside him.

"Co- come on, sir cum for me." You try to whisper but half of the words come out trembling and louder than you intended.

His hips buck up, hitting a delicious spot in you, and you finish at the same time, both left panting on the same chair.

House slumps back into the chair, completely boneless and satisfied. He's breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

One hand is still gripping your hip, keeping you close and on his cock. He opens his eyes and looks up at you, a lazy smile on his face.

"You’re gonna kill me one day, princess."

"How about you take me out on a date before that? As a thanks for this." You wave your hand around, implying that "this" meant the reason behind your disheveled states.

House chuckles, a smirk on his face. He’s still a little dazed and spent from what just happened, but he’s not about to say no to a date. Especially not with you.

"A date, huh? You’re on, darling. I’ll take you out somewhere nice. Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?"

You shake your head. "Nu-uh. You choose the place. Just tell me what to wear so I won't look out of place." You start fixing your button up shirt and getting up, smoothing your skirt and wiping up the mess from your thighs.

House watches you for a moment as you fix your clothes, his eyes roaming over your body. He can’t help but admire the way you look, elegant, even after just having gotten completely undone with him.

He starts mumbling absent-mindedly: "Why don’t you wear something classy. Something… elegant. I’ve got a place in mind."

You truly were a perfect trainee. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, perfect tits that bounce so nicely when -

"Sounds good, sir! I'm taking this, by the way."

You grab a folder from a side desk. The very folder which he was keeping from you earlier, already hearing the shuffling of him trying to get up to stop you.

House lets out an exasperated moan as you grab one of the folders. He tries to lunge toward you, but his leg protests with a stab of pain. He curses under his breath and glares at you.

"Hey, no. Give that back." Look at him, trying to be stern.

"Not a chance. You can have these instead, deal?"

Something lands on his face. His lips spread into a wide smirk as he looks at the item in his hand. He looks at you, about to speak up but you interrupt:

"A pretty good deal, wouldn't you say? My favorite pair. Plus, you're not all that intimidating with your pants pulled down and fucked dumb, sir."

You shoot him a wink and walk toward the door of the room.

House lets out another curse, this time with more bite to it. He’s not used to being outsmarted by anyone, but somehow you’ve managed to pull it off.

He looks down at the item in his hands and can’t help but grin. A pair of your lacy panties has landed on his face, and he’s not about to pass up the opportunity.

"Fine."

"As if you had a choice."

You smile and before opening the door, say:

"I'll be waiting for you after work for that date."

You open the door, exit, and close it behind yourself.

House is left sitting in the chair, a pair of your panties in one hand and the other hand covering his eyes as he groans with frustration.

He has to admit to himself: pretty turned on by your unexpected power move, and he’s already looking forward to your date.

He mutters under his breath:

"Damn."

[valiantstarlights]

[Personal Trainer!Dream AU] Chapter 2: (Much Ado About) Gym Clothes

Chapter 1: First Meeting

This is still for @sadrumihours , who shared Tom Sturridge's highly educational 😏 training videos (part one & part two), as well as everyone who yelled in the comments and reblog tags. I see you all and I love each and every one of you. 🖤

Disclaimer: These are once again just vibes because I still don't know a single thing about gym stuff. Will someone please tell me what the equipment Tom is using called? Because I'm still calling it stretchy jump rope machine in my head. 😭

CW (and summary): Dream being his usual thirsty-for-Hob self, Hob being insecure about his body, and Johanna trying to be a supportive sister to Hob. (Keyword being: 'trying.') This chapter contains spicy spice! Enjoy? 😏

Mojo Jojo

Jo, what do I wear to the gym???

uh, gym clothes?

(You sent a photo.)

Is this okay??

i guess?

why are you being weird?

you're just going to the gym, not going on a date

WAIT, ARE YOU???

HOBERT

answer me or i'm gonna come over and steal all your teeth

I bought pizza since I know you're coming over from your shoot anyway

fine

you can keep both your secrets and your teeth for one more day

--

"That's it, Professor," Mr. Endless--Dream, says next to his ear, low and inviting. His hands are cool as they caress Hob's overheated and very sensitive inner thighs, and his eyes, so dark and so close to Hob's own, are laser-focused on his panting, straining face. "One more. Just one more for me."

Hob's cheeks are already streaked with tears. How many hours has it been? How much more until they're done? Until he's told that he's been good? "Mr. Endless, please--"

Dream has moved to inspect his position. He adjusts Hob's legs so they spread even wider. The change in angle makes him sob, but Dream shushes him and he leans all the way down to lick at his rim.

Hob wails, body jolting against the restraints. His muscles are already so sore, but he wants to be good.

"You can do it, Professor," Dream says, lightly tapping at his taint to encourage his muscles to clench. "This is the last one."

Hob cries and wiggles, breathes slowly and purposefully like how he has been taught, and forcibly relaxes his muscles one by one, until finally, finally, he manages to push out the last large anal egg from his body with a soft moan.

It plops wetly onto Dream's waiting hand, and the man hums approvingly as Hob's hole gapes for a second before winking closed again.

"Very good," Dream purrs against his rim and dips his tongue into Hob's loosened hole. Hob keens and thrashes against his bonds again. It was so humiliating, but he loves every second of it. He can feel his body slowly becoming stronger, and he owes it all to Dream.

"You see what you can do?" Dream asks, now inserting his long, clever fingers inside him. "What your body can achieve with my guidance?" He moves his fingers in and out slowly, the squelch of the remaining lube loud in the room. "I'm so proud of you, Professor. Only a few sessions in and you're already my beautiful, obedient little slut." He emphasizes his words by drilling his fingers unerringly against Hob's prostate. Hob cries and bucks up, helpless and overwhelmed, unable to do anything else with how good he had been tied up.

"Please, Mr. Endless--"

"Mr. Endless?" Dream repeats. "You have to be specific, Professor Gadling. Are you calling for my brother?"

Hob shakes his head wildly. "No. No, please. I mean you. Just you, sir, no one else. You know that."

Dream rewards him with a soft kiss against the head of his cock. "And what's my name, Professor?" he asks. "What's the name that you'll be screaming in ecstasy for the rest of your life?"

"D-Dream," Hob gasps. "Dream--"

"Good boy," Dream says, and returns to his hole to suck hickeys around the rim. Hob hopes he bruises well. He hopes he'll feel all the love bites Dream gives him every time he sits down. "Shall I give you your reward now?"

Hob remembers last time, when his reward was Dream spanking his hole directly until it was red and puffy, and then fucking him that way, all the while praising him for being so virgin tight.

"Yes, please," Hob says, voice cracking a little. He wants to move. He wants to wrap his arms around Dream and kiss him softly while they fuck. He wants to be called sweet and good and mine.

But in the end, Dream is still his trainer, and he knows Hob's body best. He knows Hob's body better than Hob himself, now. And if he tells Hob he has to wear a vibrating plug while he uses the stationary bike, then he will.

He'll cry and stumble and cum in his underwear countless times, and Dream will coo and kiss his tears away, but he'll do it. Has done it. It had increased his stamina exponentially.

"Very well," Dream says. He leans over Hob so they could share a kiss while he lines his cock up against Hob's waiting hole. "You have been so good for me today, and I think that means you deserve a treat, yes?"

Hob nods, biting his lip at the incredible pressure as the head of Dream's large cock pushes against his rim--

--

Hob's alarm blares at max volume, and he jolts awake, blindly reaching for his phone to turn it off.

It takes him a few seconds, and once that's done, he's awake enough to notice the sticky feeling in his underwear. He moves the covers aside and peeks inside his boxers.

...Great. Not only did he have an incredibly realistic wet dream (ha) starring his personal trainer, but he's also currently sporting a semi.

Thank goodness he set his alarm hours before he has to go to the gym. He still has time to do some...preliminary stretching.

He blushes as he grabs his favorite dildo, which he had placed conveniently beside his pillow last night, as well as the bottle of lube beside it.

He's already ashamed of himself for thinking about Mr. Endless in such a manner, but try as he might, he can't conjure up the image of another person. Not since he met him.

Oh, he tried thinking about previous people he had a crush on, real and fictional, as well as local and international celebrities: actors and idols and athletes--to no avail. They always turn into Dream Endless in the end, looking down at him as they fuck in a variety of positions, usually missionary because Hob is a dumb romantic at heart, his gorgeous blue eyes loving and captivated, his lips forming 'Professor Gadling' or 'Hob' over and over again, his voice soft with awe and reverence.

It never fails to bring Hob to completion faster than he ever had before, when he had yet to be blessed about the knowledge of Dream Endless's existence. It was mortifying. His imagined scenarios always leave him whining and pressing his face against his pillow so he doesn't scream Mr. Endless's name out loud for the entire neighborhood to hear.

He knows it's pathetic, because it's not like Mr. Endless is going to look at him that way in real life. But if he's sad about it, crying a little like a lovesick fool after he cums, then that's his business and no one ever needs to know.

--

Boss Dream's newest trainee walks in the gym dressed in a thick hoodie and joggers, and Matthew starts sweating bullets just by looking at him. Is he going snowboarding with Boss Dream or something?

Nope. None of his business. Better just focus on getting the damn blender working.

--

"Good morning, Mr. Endless!" Professor Gadling says cheerfully as he rounds the corner to where Dream is waiting. "I hope it's alright that I'm a bit early today. I had to make up for last time."

He's an entire 15 minutes early, but Dream won't say no to spending more time with him. He had been reviewing today's agenda, but had turned around as soon as he heard Professor Gadling's voice. And he was just about to greet him back, when his eyes lift from the clipboard he's holding, and the smile falters in his face as he takes in what the man is wearing.

Dream had indicated in his email that they were going to do some mandatory stretches, and after that proceed to doing a full-body pre-test workout that would measure the professor's strength, endurance level, general dexterity, etc. It was important that they do this on the first session so that Dream could come up with a program specifically tailored for him and his end goal.

It was his mistake in assuming that Professor Gadling would do the sensible thing and wear something light. Not winter clothes in the middle of summer.

"Good morning, Professor Gadling," he says, as neutrally as he can manage. "You are dressed quite warmly."

Professor Gadling grimaces. "Oh. Well um, I'm afraid I don't really have gym clothes, and I haven't had the chance to buy some yet since, you know, school. And everything else I own are dress shirts and slacks and lounge wear. But don't worry! I'll go shopping this weekend." He pauses and smiles bashfully. It was just as devastating as Dream remembered. "Sorry. I'm talking too much again."

Meanwhile, Dream's mind had latched on to the words 'lounge wear,' and he imagines Professor Gadling casually walking around his house in nothing but short pajama bottoms.

"I see," he says, glad that he took the time this morning to get himself off so he won't be as tempted to push Professor Gadling against the nearest surface and really give him a full body workout. "Then please, if at any point you wish to take off a layer, feel free to do so."

"Oh, no," Professor Gadling says, still cheerfully. "I'm fine like this. Shall we begin?"

There's still a few minutes before they officially have to start, but Professor Gadling seems to want to begin immediately, so Dream nods and instructs him to stand with his feet shoulder width apart, and gets him to start stretching his upper body.

Professor Gadling obeys, following Dream's example as he demonstrates the set, counting to eight, then back to one again under his breath, before doing the next set without complaint.

Dream watches him closely, because he has to. It's why he notices that the professor's thick hoodie barely shifts, even as the man raises his hands upwards towards the ceiling and counts to 16.

A dark thought crosses Dream's mind then, that perhaps the reason Professor Gadling is wearing clothes that cover his entire body is because he's currently covered in love bites.

Dream clenches his teeth but breathes through it. He knows he's being possessive when he has no right to be, and that Professor Gadling has every right to sleep with whoever he wants.

But knowing these facts and acknowledging them to be logical and true does not stop Dream from hating whoever it was that is currently enjoying Professor Gadling's gorgeous body in bed, perhaps repeatedly throughout the night.

He wants to be that person. He will be that person. He is already fated to be that person.

If his brother Destiny is right about one thing, Dream fucking hopes that it's the power of manifestation, because he doesn't think he would just allow Professor Gadling to end up with someone else without challenging that person to a fight.

--

Mr. Endless is wearing a tight, sleeveless black shirt and slightly baggy joggers, and Hob is losing his mind. Has lost his mind as soon as he spotted the man a couple of minutes ago, standing by the large glass windows and reading something on his clipboard.

The sight of his toned arms are bad for Hob's concentration. And it's even worse when he circles Hob like a very observant vulture to check his position (just like in his dream) and bids him to raise his arms higher, or at one point, bend a little more to the right.

Hob can't bend as much as he used to in his twenties, but he is very determined to be super flexible at the end of this.

For health reasons, of course.

Mr. Endless demonstrates another pose to stretch the arm muscles, and in doing so calls Hob's attention to how his muscles bunch and flex. Hob is sure that they're far stronger than they look, and he has no doubt that Mr. Endless can carry heavy grocery bags without breaking a sweat.

Hob gets so far as picturing Mr. Endless's hands squeezing his thighs before he immediately shuts the thought down.

No. Absolutely not. And his previous thought about being flexible, too. Mr. Endless would be horrified, if not outright disgusted if he finds out that Hob is thinking about him in that manner.

--

Professor Gadling continues to obediently follow his orders, getting on the treadmill, walking, jogging, then running, complying as soon as Dream warns him about changing the treadmill's speed, and he does so without a single word of complaint.

Dream could not help but compare him to his past trainees, all of whom had complained on their first session about wanting to go straight to the workouts that would help them achieve their ideal body shape. But not Professor Gadling. He would listen and watch Dream's demonstration well, then immediately obey his orders or mimick his movements. Dream has to bite his tongue multiple times so he wouldn't slip up and say, 'good boy.'

Or worse, 'my good boy.'

Death is going to have Destruction break his spine if, out of all siblings, a sexual harassment complaint would be filed against him and not, say, Desire, who regularly flirts with their own trainees.

Cardio pre-test finished, Dream leads Professor Gadling to the weightlifting area, and once there, bids him to take 2 dumbbells that weighs 1 kilogram each, and do 16 squats while holding the weights.

While Professor Gadling gets the appropriate equipment from the rack, Dream lets his mind wander. Would Professor Gadling be obedient in bed, too? Or would he be a brat? Will Dream have to tame him, or is he already sweet and docile?

Dream imagines that the latter to be more likely, though he wouldn't mind if his lovely professor turns out to be an incorrigible brat in bed. He'll just have to spank him until he's pliant and good enough to deserve his treats.

Fuck. He's teaching. He should be more professional than this.

"Like this, Mr. Endless?"

Dream snaps from his ill-timed daydreams to scrutinize Professor Gadling's form, only to then hold back a lustful groan.

The man is squatting alright, but he's doing so improperly. His heels should be flat against the floor, but instead his thighs and calves are touching, and he's so low that he's almost kneeling on the floor.

Dream has an errant thought that Professor Gadling is being seductive on purpose, except one look at his genuinely unsure expression proves Dream wrong.

Definitely sweet and docile in bed.

Dream wants to eat him alive.

Were this a porno, Dream would tell him that he's doing a terrific job, and if he could please thrust his chest out more so Dream could admire them better. But since he's an actual trainer with the thinnest veneer of professionalism left, he bids Professor Gadling to stand up and instructs him on how to squat properly.

Except, of course, his improved and now very proper form isn't making Dream feel any better, as Professor Gadling now had his ass thrust out instead of his chest, and has to repeat the motion 15 more times.

Dream gets his bottle of vitamin water and drinks deeply, hoping to cool himself down enough to banish his lecherous thoughts.

It doesn't work.

--

Hob sees from the corner of his eye Mr. Endless drink from his water bottle and immediately looks away. He's glad he's already red from exercising.

When Mr. Endless corrected his squat earlier, he did so by placing a hand gently against Hob's lower back to guide him, and Hob barely bit back a moan from how good a simple, innocent touch from him felt, even through his thick hoodie.

He feels like such a shameless pervert.

--

Once the assessment is (finally) over, Dream praises Professor Gadling for a job well done, valiantly ignores the shy, pleased look on the man's face, and instead goes on to tell him that he's doing okay overall, but needs more work in certain areas.

Dream does not specify which ones, telling him that he still needs to study the data and compile them together before emailing the whole thing to him.

In truth, Dream does not trust himself to look straight into Professor Gadling's lovely dark brown eyes and say words like 'stamina' and 'flexibility' without exposing the level of hunger he's currently feeling for him.

So yes. Dream will email him his pre-test results later, but he does not tell him that he will only do so after a good long wank.

Professor Gadling, totally unaware of his inner turmoil, only nods understandably, and agrees to read Dream's email as soon as his schedule allows him to. He must be sweating like crazy underneath his get-up, but his choice of clothes show no evidence of it.

Dream worries, and his mouth opens before he can stop it. "Professor Gadling," he says, just as the man had turned away to go to the nearby drinking fountains.

"Yes, Mr. Endless?"

Dream doesn't want to keep him any longer from the fountains than he has to. But next time, he's going to make sure to bring an extra bottle of vitamin water for him, so he could take a sip anytime without going all the way across the room and falling in line.

Dream is also going to be mature about not staring at his throat while he drinks. "When you go shopping for gym clothes, you may want to consider buying lighter fabrics."

"Oh, no, I'm absolutely fine with these," Professor Gadling says, and sounds sincere about it that Dream drops the subject.

"Very well," he says. He will not force him. Professor Gadling's comfort is paramount. If that means that Dream would have to adjust their lesson plans to include more water breaks, then that's what he'll do. "I shall see you next session."

He turns away before he could be tempted to watch Professor Gadling go. He does not think about the possibility that the hoodie might actually belong to Professor Gadling's boyfriend, who is probably waiting for him to get back home, and very eager to get him back in bed.

He has no right to be jealous.

--

Hob opens his gym bag and starts to take out his clean change of clothes when the texture of the shirt made him pause.

That's not the shirt he folded last night.

He takes the folded black shirt out, wonders at its suddenly lighter weight, then shakes it open to see if he had mistakenly folded another shirt.

As soon as the garment is revealed, however, he shoves it back in his bag, then shakes the accompanying bottom garment open. When that was revealed, he also shoves it back in the bag.

Then, slowly and mindfully, he breathes for a solid minute before he takes out his phone and texts his sister.

--

Mojo Jojo

Jo what the hell

what

(You sent a photo.)

Why are your gym clothes in my bag???

they're not mine stupid

i had ric buy them yesterday specifically for you

?????

for your ~mysterious~ gym crush to notice you (u///u)❤️

anyway don't worry and just wear them

they'll fit you

That's not the point!

A crop top and booty shorts???

you're right. the booty shorts are fine, but the crop top is too plain.

i should have told ric to pick the other one that says 'daddy's little fuck toy' 😂

JOHANNA CONSTANTINE-GADLING

pfft coward

i'm gonna tell ric to go back to the store and buy the fuck toy crop top

oops the director is shouting at me to get in place bye gtg

--

Hob is typing another scathing reply in all caps when he hears footsteps stop a short distance from him.

"Professor Gadling?"

Great. The last person in the world he wanted to see right at this very moment.

Hob smiles awkwardly and stows his phone back in his bag. "Mr. Endless."

"Is everything alright?"

Right. Shit. He hasn't even showered yet. He's probably stinking up the place and being a nuisance near the lockers.

"Everything's fine," Hob says, waving the man's concern away. "Just. Sisters being sisters. With their weird and very inappropriate sense of humor."

Someday, he'll learn how to shut his big mouth and stop at 'everything's fine.'

"I'm sure all sisters suffer from having a weird sense of humor," Mr. Endless says politely. "May I ask what your sister has done?"

Hob sighs deeply and zips his bag closed. It's fine. He'll just go shower at home. And anyway, it's not like he has to take the Tube and subject everyone to his sweaty self after a workout. Thank god he drove here. "Better not. If even I, as her brother, didn't find it funny, I very much doubt that you will."

"And yet you remain troubled," Mr. Endless says, and now his brows are furrowed in concern. "Please. I know this is not any of my business, but I would like to help you, if I can."

The fact that Mr. Endless looks very sincere makes Hob want to cry.

And he knows he shouldn't show him. He knows that Mr. Endless should be the last person in the world Hob should show these to. But he figures, what the hell. He could just quit via email as soon as he gets home and never have cause to see Mr. Endless or be seen in the vicinity of Endless Gym ever again.

Maybe it would even be for the best if he did that. Then he would stop having all these unsavory thoughts about him while the man is only trying to do his job.

He sighs and opens his bag once more, tilting it a little so Mr. Endless could see its contents. "My sister swapped my clean change of clothes for these."

Mr. Endless looks inside, and Hob can just see in his mind's eye what the other man saw: an extremely short, short-sleeved, solid black crop top with a deep V-neck that would barely cover Hob's chest area, and slutty black booty shorts with the phrase, 'SQUEEZE ME' printed on the butt area, complete with a cute yellow lemon emoji.

Although to be fair, 'crop top' is a generous term to use for the upper garment in the bag. It's too small and resembles a short-sleeved bra more than a crop top. From a single glance, Hob knows that even if it did fit him, it would be so tight that it would force his pecs to form a cleavage and leave his underboobs exposed.

He cringed internally at the image that would make, and could only imagine the utter revulsion Mr. Endless is feeling right now.

--

Dream had leaned over to inspect the contents of Professor Gadling's bag, expecting everything from a shark onesie to a clown suit.

Instead he sees further fuel for his already full folder of Professor Gadling-centric fantasies.

He could just imagine the crop top and the booty shorts on the man, and how he'd look like exercising while wearing them.

He had half a mind to ask for his sister's number so he could personally extend his gratitude to her, but doesn't dare to, in case Professor Gadling gets the wrong idea.

He inhales slowly and leans away, placing his hands neatly behind his back so Professor Gadling would not be in danger of being pushed against the lockers and fucked within an inch of his life. Dream did not fail to notice the distinct lack of underwear among the clean change of clothes, and now his mind is working overtime imagining himself standing behind Professor Gadling as he runs on the treadmill, the tiny shorts and the lack of proper underwear leaving nothing to the imagination. Imagines pressing himself against the professor's sweaty back after, the man still panting and out of breath, and pulling down his cute little shorts to jerk him off as a reward for a job well done.

"I see your dilemma," Dream says calmly, like this is an incident that happens every so often and not a cause for alarm or humiliation. "Fortunately, we have a stock of clean clothes in the staff locker room, in case staff members need to change for some reason or another. If you could please stay here for a while, I'm going to get you a clean change of clothes with more coverage."

Yes. It is imperative that he provides Professor Gadling with more conservative clothing than the ones currently in his bag. Otherwise, other people would see and covet what Dream has already envisioned as his. And that will definitely not do.

"Oh," Professor Gadling says, looking incredibly moved by his words. He's probably thinking how kind Dream is, while Dream is still thinking about how easy it would be to fuck his thighs after jerking him off, using the man's own cum as lube. How he would then make an even bigger mess of him and not clean him up after. That way, everyone would know that Professor Gadling is Dream's and Dream's only. "Are you sure? I don't want to trouble you unnecessarily."

"It's no problem at all," Dream says. In his mind, he imagines the man's thighs covered in both their cum, and Professor Gadling scooping some of it up and sucking on his fingers, curious as to what their mixed spend would taste like. "I have also been at the receiving end of a couple of my siblings' pranks, and would not wish another to suffer similarly." When Professor Gadling opened his mouth, possibly to protest, Dream holds up a hand and adds, "Please. I insist."

"Oh. Well then...thank you, Mr. Endless," Professor Gadling says, his dark brown eyes sparkling like precious gems in his gratefulness. Dream wants to kiss him all over. "You're a lifesaver."

--

Dream speedwalks to the staff locker room, checks to see if the coast is clear, immediately locks himself in a stall, drops his joggers and underwear, and starts jerking himself off furiously.

He barely even had to spit on his palm for lubrication, and he knows it wouldn't take long. He's already so aroused.

He has to do this.

If he doesn't, then Professor Gadling would be in an even greater danger when Dream hands him his clean (and much more conservative) change of clothes, and gets to be on the receiving end of his shy gratitude.

He imagines Professor Gadling, usually so buttoned up, only wearing that infernal crop top and booty shorts in Dream's favorite color, with those taunting fucking words--

"There's a good boy," his imagined self says to a kneeling Professor Gadling, who is pressing his tits closer together to create a valley where Dream could rut his cock against.

"I could...squeeze them even tighter, if you want?" his imagined Professor Gadling says, maintaining his naive, unsure aura about him even as his lips are slick and red from sucking on Dream's cock. "I want you to feel good, Mr. Endless."

Dream cums at the thought of marking Professor Gadling's face and hairy tits with his seed, and him shyly licking his lips for a taste of Dream's cum, moaning in delight when he finds Dream's spend to be thick and delicious. Dream is going to eat more pineapples, just for him. He's going to make Professor Gadling addicted to the taste of his cum that no other cum would do.

"Thank you for lending me your clothes, Mr. Endless," he would say, because he's polite like that. He would lean forward to milk Dream's cock more, making sure to get every last drop, before making a show of swallowing everything down, save for the cum marking him as Dream's. "And for the really tasty post-workout treat."

--

Mr. Endless looks a little flushed when he returns. However, judging by how far the staff locker room is from the gym goer's lockers that was out in the open (possibly to prevent theft and sexual harassment), as well as any additional effort he may have made in finding clean clothes that are in Hob's size, Hob thinks he got back pretty quickly.

The sight of him slightly flushed makes Hob think naughty thoughts though, which he quickly dispels from his mind. He doesn't have the right to think about Mr. Endless like that, especially after the man went through all this trouble just so Hob would feel comfortable going home.

Still. He wonders what would have happened if he had both the courage and the confidence to wear the clothes Jo bought for him.

Would Mr. Endless...

He viciously cuts the thought off before it could fully form. No. Absolutely not.

Mr. Endless would have felt nauseous at seeing his rolls and body hair and just...general unattractiveness. Hob wouldn't need to email him about quitting because the man himself would drop him as soon as he could, like a hot (temperature-wise) and very unappealing potato.

--

"Here," Dream says as he hands Professor Gadling a set of clean clothes. In the bundle is a black shirt, a black letterman jacket with the number 03 on it, and black joggers. All of them belong to Dream, and everyone, especially his siblings and the rest of the staff, is going to know that these are his clothes as soon as they see the number 03. "You will have to go commando, but it's definitely preferable to what your sister intended for you to wear."

Professor Gadling looks so grateful and Dream wants to mark him up, this time with his own teeth. Let everyone see Professor Gadling wearing his clothes and his teeth marks, even his boyfriend who lent him this hoodie, whoever he is. "Thank you so much," he says. "And yes. Lord knows I shouldn't subject anyone to the sight of me in that. I'll drive all the gym goers away and then Endless Gym would have to close."

Dream really, absolutely hates how Professor Gadling thinks of himself as unattractive. Is it because his boyfriend tells him that? Is that why Professor Gadling signed up for training in the first place?

Well, whoever he is, he better be prepared because Dream is ready and raring to beat him into a pulp the moment Professor Gadling even implies that his lack of self-esteem is caused by his boyfriend spouting lies about his beautiful body.

Were Dream allowed to freely speak his mind, he would say that if Professor Gadling did don the clothes his sister intended for him to wear, he would no doubt cause multiple accidents due to gym goers losing their concentration: dropping weights on their feet and tripping on the treadmills, not to mention the injuries he would cause in the future, when Dream would casually arrange little minor accidents to those he caught drooling at his lovely future boyfriend.

But because he is still Professor Gadling's trainer and therefore need to have some semblance of control and professionalism, what he says instead is, "I don't think such a thing will happen. And please, feel free to keep those clothes if you wish."

"Oh!" Professor Gadling exclaims. "I absolutely shouldn't. I'll wash them after and return them to you on our next session."

Dream smiles. He's very stubborn, too. "If you do that, I will simply put them in your locker so you will have an extra set of clothes if your sister decides to swap your clean set again."

--

Hob blushes as soon as Mr. Endless hands him the bundle of clothing, and feels even more flustered when, after showering, he holds them in his arms and smells a hint of Mr. Endless's own scent on them.

He really is so kind and generous and considerate and Hob is so very quickly falling in love with him.

--

Hob is walking past the gym's cafe after getting dressed when he sees Mr. Endless ordering what looks like a pineapple smoothie. He walks over and nods politely to both the staff member behind the counter and Mr. Endless when both men turn to look at him.

The male staff member quickly walks towards the blender to fulfill Mr. Endless's order, however, and so the two of them are left alone to converse freely.

"Thank you for lending me your clothes, Mr. Endless," Hob tells him, all-smiles. The clothes fit him perfectly, and the fabric feels good on his skin.

There is an undecipherable look in Mr. Endless's eyes. Hob hopes he's not mad. He looks really intense. "I see they fit you well."

Hob laughs. "I was surprised, too! Thank you very much for finding ones that are in my size. This jacket is especially lovely." He rubs his hand over the fabric of the jacket's sleeve, which really does have a nice texture to it.

"I'm glad you like it," Mr. Endless says. "And I hope that this means you are considering keeping it?"

Hob ducks his head to hide his embarrassing lovesick smile. He'd love to, actually. He'll take it off as soon as he gets home and press his face against it, hoping to smell what little remains of Mr. Endless's scent, and how their scents mix together. "Maybe."

"Then it is yours," Mr. Endless says. It might be Hob's delusional imagination, but Mr. Endless looks fond as he looks at him. His heart is beating so fast. If he doesn't leave soon, he may just do the unthinkable and kiss Mr. Endless in front of the poor staff member behind the bar, as well as a couple of random gym goers peacefully eating their salads in the background.

--

"Oh," Professor Gadling says softly. "Really? You mean that?"

Dream wasn't wrong in his assumption. The man does look good wearing his clothes. And for him to go out of his way just to show Dream how well they fit before he leaves...

Dream wants to tear his own clothes off him and just give him another set after.

"I do, Professor Gadling," he says. "I only say what I mean, and I would love for you to keep them. At home or in your locker, as long as your sister doesn't hide them from you and replace your clean change of clothes again."

"I will care for them well," Professor Gadling vows sincerely. Dream has no doubt that he will. But this is only the first of many clothes that Dream is planning on giving him. In fact, Dream could already envision his own closet at home, interspersed with Professor Gadling's clothes, and the man himself wearing Dream's clothes to bed. Dream is going to let him steal all his hoodies after they burn his ex's hoodies. He's going to spoil him rotten with pretty lingerie so he'll never have to go commando ever again. "Shall I see you in a couple of days for our next session?"

Dream could think of no one else belonging in his life as a romantic partner other than Professor Gadling. He smiles and barely prevents himself from leaning forward and giving the man's delicious-looking lips a chaste peck before he has to leave. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

[jotaromane]

Thorkell x fem! reader (smut)

hi, this his my first post on this app!! sorry in advance for the grammar errors, i'm french soooo i'm practicing writing in english,, i hope you enjoy this os about Thorkell <3 i just love this man so much

including : oral sex ; face sitting ; dirty talk ; praise kink words : 1054

Not only were you desperate for sex, but also nobody would notice that in the camp. Nobody except Thorkell. The way he looked at you when you rode your horse. The way he smirked when he noticed your legs pressing around the horse to make him move forward.This could be me, he used to think. 

Tonight was the night, you knew it when Thorkell convened you in his personal tent. He pretended that you two have some things to share about the next battle. Liar. But his lies didn’t bother you. Of course they didn’t. 

-You wanted to see me, Thorkell ? you asked innocently. 

The sexual tension was definitely there. Thorkell was barely naked, only wearing thin pants. You could admire his enormous shoulders, connected to his generous chest and abs. He truly was a giant.

-Actually, I wanted to see you tonight, he responded with a strange smile on his face.

It was a hungry smile. Oh god, you thought. He desired you so badly. You approached him, slowly, but surely. His eyes opened wide when he saw you innocently pull your tunic so he could see your breasts through the fabric.

-Fuck this, he growled by taking off the banda he always used to wear. Do you want to do this with me ? Now ? 

-Isn’t it why you wanted me to come ? 

-I wanted you to come to me, but I would add that now, (y/n), I want you to come for me. 

You couldn’t wait any longer. You barely jumped into his powerful arms, and he adjusted the grip so your cunt and his cock were meeting deliciously. Immediately, you could tell that it was huge. His lips crushed on yours, and you appreciated the kiss like it was your first. 

-Take off your clothes, he ordered. I’ll do the same. Where do you want to do it ? 

-On your bed, you responded without hesitation. 

The blankets just called the two of you. It was sweet and warm. 

-(y/n), sit on my face. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve pictured myself doing this with you… 

-Will you shut up ? you said, falsely irritated. 

With no pity for him, you took out his breath with your flesh. It was now your turn to skip a beat : Thorkell ate you like you were his last meal ever. His middle finger pushed his way into you as he caressed your clitoris with his large tongue, circling it. Your legs quickly started to shake over him, but he supported your weight easily with his arms. You could feel the pressure of his hands on your thighs. You ended up coming on his satisfied face a few seconds later. 

-That’s it, baby, he said while tasting you even better. You taste divine, just like I’ve imagined you would.

As a response, you caught his blonde hair in your hands, so you can pull them to help you push your body on his insatiable mouth. He chuckled a little but understood the assignment. 

-Will you now fuck me like your guards told me you will ? 

-What did they tell you ? he asked, while wiping his shiny mouth.

You went down from his chest so you were on the top of him. You could feel his tip waiting to slip into you.

-They told me that… You were a beginner, with no experience…

Thorkell frowned like a kid. It was nearly cute until he said : 

-When I’me done with you, I’m gonna cut their heads off, I swear. But for now, let me prove them wrong. 

Without any warning, Thorkell pushed him into you with no mercy. His hugeness made you scream. He didn’t seem to care and started to pound into you. You could tell he was in pleasure by his eyes literally devouring you. He caught your breasts in his large hands and started massaging them. 

-Fuck, you sighed. You’re so good. 

-Tell it again, he ordered.

-You’re doing it so well, Thorkell the Tall. Love your dick so much. 

Thorkell literally shivered when he heard you calling him by his nickname. He continued to fuck you until, your legs started pressing around his. 

-Gonna come, babe ? 

And before you could answer, he pushed you off him. Surprised and frustrated, you looked at him with an angry look. 

-Get on all fours, (y/n), I beg you. I’m gonna finish you this way.

With lust in your eyes, you obeyed. You felt his cock fill you again and again. In this position, he could fuck you faster and harder. Paradise. 

-Oh my God ! you said after he roughly smacked your butt. 

-Move on it, babe. I wanna see your perfect ass wiggle on my cock before I come on it. 

With tears slowly filling your eyes, you obeyed and took all the pleasure he could give you. After all, creating this story about the guards wasn’t a bad idea. Thorkell took your breasts back in his hands, and pressed them softly. It became hard for you to catch your breath and he noticed it. 

-Stop resisting me, he said. Let it go around me. 

-I just… I’m gonna… 

But you couldn't finish your sentence because your orgasm catched you like a hurricane. Your walls squeezed around Thorkell’s cock, and he let go a satisfied sigh. He slipped him out of you and started jerking himself. You wanted to help him. 

After noticed you moved to go towards him, he gently pushed you on the bed. 

-No, babe, stay like that. I'm coming on your ass, that’s what I want. 

You said nothing and felt his cum spurt on your body. You were recovering from your second orgasm. 

Gently, Thorkell took you in his arms and placed you under the heavy blanket. You could fall asleep just now, what happened just got all your energy. 

-How was it ? he asked by caressing your hair. 

-Hm…Not bad. Maybe I’ll consider meeting you again… 

Thorkell put on his animal gaze. If you two didn’t just had sex, you could tell that he was ready to eat you alive. Now. 

-What about tomorrow night ? I can’t wait to fill this pretty chatty mouth with my cock. 

hope you liked it<3 gonna post more OS soon,, i'm sorry in advance, idk how to use this app honestly :(

[tojisbbygworl]

Know Your Place - Hobie Brown x Black!Reader x Cuck!Miguel O’Hara

Unbeknownst to him, the affair between you and Hobie did not go under your husband’s radar

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Smutttttt, Semi-Public sex, Cuckhold, Really from Hobie’s POV, Hobie is 21+, kind of a Threesome, Reader can be any age, but I’m imagining you being slightly older than Hobie at least

author's note: HAIIIII!!! I keep saying 'oh im probably not going to write blah blah blah' and then I think of a story idea like right after that. I have been FEIGNING for a Hobie x reader x Miguel and I didn’t even think that tag existed like come on! People! There's a hole in the market! I'm pretty sure I've only ever read one and it was more Hobie focused and full fledged cheating instead. I can not find it again and I'm gonna lose my mind because of it. Anyway enjoy I hope I made it as raunchy as y'all wanted. (it could always be raunchier)

Also if this kinda plays like an imagine at some point while you’re reading just bare with me. It was an imagine originally but I got too into it.

Part 2

Masterlist

Hobie isn’t sure how things got this way. One day he went from adjusting his pants at HQ and going home to fuck his fist after being in your presence and now he’s watching you ride him while Miguel stands to the side beating his own dick.

It all started a month ago. The conversation began normally, “How’ve ya been, love? Something a miss?” and then you started making all these comments about how much you loved his piercings and how smooth his skin looked with you caressing his hand. He's not one to be startled, but his eyes looked as though they were about to pop out of their sockets.

And then you dropped a bomb: your husband (i.e. his boss) was not doing it for you in the bed anymore.

“I know you can give me what I need, Ho-baby,” you had whispered to him. He was nervous admittedly, but then you gave him a sultry smile and he just couldn’t say no.

The both of you snuck around HQ feeling up on each other in every closet, nook, and cranny you could. In a corner, he loved to sink his teeth into your neck and fingers into your cunt humping your side as he revels in your sweet moans.

If you two managed to get a little more space, like a supply closet, he was holding the bottom of his shirt with his teeth with you bent over in front of him. He would roll his eyes back and groan every time you gave him a squeeze. He loved the sound and look of you gushing onto his abs and stubble. Your ass recoiled off of him so deliciously, he always found himself pulling out and cumming all over it with no shortage of curses and grunts.

It was like a drug, the two of you fucking behind Miguel’s back. Hobie could never get enough of it. He adored knowing that big bad Miguel O’Hara was a bad lay. Even if he wasn’t, even if you were actually a sex goddess in disguise, at the very least Hobie was better and if he had an ego, that would fuel it for miles.

If there was one thing Miguel cared about, it was you. He would never admit it, in fact he tries to hide it, but you made him soft. When you were in the debriefing room for a mission, his usually stern tone was careful. He was less tense around you. Hobie even saw him smile once or twice. Only when it was just the two of you with no one else around, then he would hightail it once Miguel noticed him.

It was cute, but if you were Hobie’s, he wouldn’t hesitate showing you off to everyone. As the boss’s wife, you were a pretty big deal around the society. He always wondered if Miguel knew about all the things people say about you. About all the things they want to do to you and your body. All the things Hobie was currently doing and more.

Okay, so maybe he has a bit of an ego.

It’s all the more prevalent when you start being a little more risky with your suggestions. It went from isolated corners and locked rooms to rubbing him at a far off table in the cafeteria to giving you a creampie in the therapist’s chair during his break.

At first, it freaked him out. As much as he loves a risk taker, he didn’t want to get kicked out. And, he would hate for you to get in trouble. But the way you were acting, it seemed as though you weren’t even a little bit concerned about getting caught. So, he chilled out. Actually, he got way more bold.

He's always loved to piss off Miguel, usually to make you laugh which it always did, but now there was some merit behind it. Miguel would walk by an area that Hobie made you cum in the other day and would snicker loudly getting his attention. Or, Miguel would send the both of you on a mission and Hobie would send you back with three more hickies than you had before, all with a shit-eating grin in his face.

He found that he loved looking Miguel in the eye and talking back to him with your pussy still on his breath. He was never the wiser, just slightly more annoyed by his newfound hubris. It made the anxiety all worth it.

This, though? This was way too much.

“Are you taking the piss?” He asked incredulously when you presented your newest place of coitus.

You had the audacity to look at him confused. “What do you mean? What’s the problem?” You ask, your voice echoing off the large and infinite walls of Miguel’s office.

“Listen, babe,” he starts, “You’re proper fit and all that, but I'm not fucking you in my boss's lair."

You pouted, you little minx, and you began to strip off your suit while keeping eye contact with him. Hobie scoffed and chuckled to himself. Of course, only a woman as crazy as you could stand a stick in the mud like Miguel. He looked back at you backing onto the floating platform. You dropped the suit all at once revealing your completely bare body; a habit you picked up from your husband.

Hobie looks back at the large entrance that was now closed and locked, you and Miguel being the only ones with the access code. He turns back around at you who was now sitting in Miguel's large swivel chair smiling and giggling at him and slowly lifting your legs. He shrugs and walks towards you, the platform turning on and lifting when he steps on it.

He freezes in place and stares at you in terror, immediately relaxing when your laughs get a little bit harder and you reveal a small remote from behind you. He looks up to the ceiling saying a silent prayer and continues his trek.

You bite your lip when he reaches you, closing your eyes and humming when he leans over to kiss you. His hand rubs your waist. You sit up and scoot out of the chair making him look at you in confusion. You turn him around and sit him down resuming the kiss.

Like always, the two of you waist no time getting right to it; every second counts when you're having an affair. You pulled off Hobie's shirt and he tugged his pants down, his dick standing straight up and leaking his thick, clear liquid. He beats it for a second while watching you get on your knees. The sight alone is enough to make him moan, more pre cum escaping his dick and gliding down his shaft and fingers.

You lick the drop from his base to his tip. He bites his lip and admires your pretty face as your mouth encloses around him. "Oh, yeah," he whispers watching you bob your head up and down. You twirled your tongue around his head making him jerk his hips. "Ffff-fuck!"

Hobie steady humps into your throat, his mouth hanging slightly, looking at you like a desperate puppy. He thinks about how glad he is that he always follows you wherever you want to go. He admits that the riskier the place, the better it feels. And it helps that neither of you have even gotten close to getting caught.

He starts to do something he's only ever said in his head. "You love sucking on this dick, don't you?" You seemed a bit taken aback, but ultimately, you liked it. You take him out of your mouth and nod your head sweetly going right back in soon after. Hobie takes the back of your neck and pulls you off of him. "Stick out your tongue."

He proceeds to slap his dick onto the pink muscle groaning and biting his lips with each plop. "You like getting slutted out like this? My dick slapping your tongue?" You nod again letting out an "ah-huh" from your open mouth. Hobie grins wildly. "My dick, right? Not his?"

That made you excited. "Yes, baby," is all you can get out before he stuffs himself back into your mouth.

The sounds leaving him are completely incomprehensible. His breathing is staggered, heavy and loud, but not nearly as loud as your mouth as you coat his dick in saliva. He has to put his hand on your shoulder to stop you before he feels like cumming.

He let's out a large and winded breath. You smile up at him, the entire bottom part of your face matching his dick and lap, wet and shiny. He can't wait to put it inside you. He just knows it'll slide right in.

And he was right. In a commanding tone, he grabs his base and tells you to sit on it. Without breaking your smile, you do. He moans louder than you and immediately attaches his hands to your hips. He filled you up so nicely, you could feel him hitting your abdomen. Every time he was full sheathed inside of you, you whined from the bumping sensation.

Hobie, on the other hand, did not stop moaning. He slowly leaned his head backwards to rest on the chair and closed his eyes. He couldn't speak, his mind racked with excited thoughts about what the two of you were doing.

Now he knows, he does have a big ego. Not only does he have a beautiful woman rolling her hips on his dick, desperate to make him cum for her, it's his boss's wife. His boss who he, on the lowest of keys, can't stand and vice versa. And she's riding him in his own office. In his chair.

He hears you begin to pant harder. Then he looks up into your eyes. He holds the contact with you while guiding you through your orgasm. "You want to cum? Yeah? You want to cum on my dick, you fucking slut? What about your husband, huh? How would he feel knowing your getting off on me instead?"

You sighed deeply and slowed down. Hobie could feel you clenching and spilling around him. "That turn you on, baby? Knowing he can't make you feel like this?" You do something he doesn't expect, you smile and giggle. While it's cute, it's a little off-putting. Soon after you look at him and nod again, picking up speed once more.

He sighs and closes his eyes again. His stomach coils and he can feel his release coming soon. "Mmm, mmm, mmm..." He moans.

His bottom lip finds itself under his teeth once more and the only thing he regrets about this moment is how he didn't get a chance to pound you on Miguel's devices. You put a hand on his chest "Baby, look at me~," you beg.

How could he deny you? He opens his eyes only slightly, then they shoot wide at the sight in front of him.

He clammers to get up and opens his mouth to warn you, only to look down and see a hand wrapped around one of your tits. The man's face sits right next to yours with his chin in your neck. He's smirking right at Hobie, red eyes glowing. "She asked you to look at her," says Miguel. "Do it."

"Please~?" You plead. Hobie's eyes shift to you and take everything in. You were still riding him, faster now, with one hand on his own chest and Miguel playing with one of your nipples. He watches his boss lean his head down to kiss your soft neck and leave love bites making you purr like he's never heard before. Hobie looks at your free tit and holds it. His thumb rubs your nipple and he gazes up in adoration at your cries. The ghost of a smile that was about to show up on his face disappears when he makes eye contact with Miguel.

He can not read his face for the life of him. He looks perfectly content; in fact, he was jerking himself off, his thick dick laying over and leaking onto yours and Hobie’s thighs. He humped into his hand not caring that he was hitting his leg too.

The grunts Miguel made were only heard by you. They turned you on even more, making your second orgasm approach quickly. With the way he played with your breasts, all you wanted was for someone to put their mouth on it. "Hobie," you pant. Said man brings his gaze back over to you. "Will you suck on it? Pretty please?"

'This woman is trying to kill me,' he decides. He half expects Miguel to shut down whatever the hell this was, but he doesn't. Instead, he smiles. Genuinely.

"Trying to make me angry, hermosa?" He mutters in your ear. Then you both do something that made Hobie's stomach tingle and twist in lust. Miguel chuckles against your ear with you following suit. You lean your head back and turn it capturing your lips in his. The two of you have a heated make out session on Hobie's dick. Miguel lets go of his dick and grabs your thigh instead. He continues to thrust into the air, slowly now.

You're both moaning into each other's mouths, tongues flying everywhere. It's so erotic, Hobie sits up a bit more and leans his head into your chest encasing your nipple in his wet, hot mouth. It makes you gasp, moving your head from Miguel's leaving him hanging in the air. He watches as you cum for the second time on Hobie. Because of Hobie. With Hobie. He glares at the two of you, his dick harder than ever.

The younger man refuses to lift his head from your chest even as he spills into your pussy. He whines and groans, "Yes, baby..." "That feels so good..." "Keep milking my dick..." He wraps both of his arms around your waist pulling you closer into him. You both come down from your highs panting and staring at each other. You smile at him and lean down to give him a kiss. Hobie accepts it quickly, he rubs your ass and grips it slightly, trying to get you in the mood to kiss him the way you just kissed Miguel. He starts to over stimulate himself by humping into you some more. It works, you start to whimper again and you stick your tongue into his mouth. His pride overwhelms him causing him to say:

"I'll fuck a fucking baby into you..."

Miguel refuses to sit there with his dick in his hands and watch his employee talk about impregnating his wife. Hobie's had his fun, it's time for him to go. Miguel takes his previous spot behind you and leans into your ear, his eyes not leaving Hobie's. "Tell him he has to go."

Hobie blinks at what was just said and looks at you. You're looking as at his lap sheepishly, but there's a mischievous glint in your eye and just the smallest gleam on your face. You look up at him. "You have to go now, Ho-baby."

Miguel growls and grips the back of your neck. “Don’t fucking call him that.” He leans you backwards. "Open your fucking mouth." When you do, he gathers up as much saliva as he can and spits it onto your tongue. "Now kiss him goodbye."

You do as your husband wishes and hold Hobie's chin. Winking at him, you lean down and lick his lips. At first, he doesn't know how to feel, but his heart starts racing and he thinks it won't hurt. After all, Miguel's technically been kissing his dick for a month now, he wouldn't mind swallowing his spit. You're such a good girl, you saved so much of it in your mouth.

You and Hobie proceed to leave each other's faces drenched. You hadn't lifted yourself off of him just yet which he was grateful for. Eventually, the both of you hovered your lips over each other, too stimulated to focus on kissing from the feeling of him growing inside of you. Miguel smirks evilly as he connects with your ear again. "It's time for Hobie to go, mi amor."

He knew if felt good, but he would make you feel even better. And you knew it to. So you slowly lifted yourself off of Hobie. Miguel pulls him up onto his feet and pushes you into the seat, back first. Hobie tries to keep his balance, and when he finds it he lifts his pants back up. He turns back to the two of you who were paying him absolutely no mind. You were staring up at Miguel, your legs spread and in almost in a mating press. Miguel was furiously beating his dick over you, using his thumb to spread your pussy lips and watch Hobie's cum drip out of it. Hobie hears him groan, but he quickly jumps back when Miguel twists his head around and glares at him furiously. "Why are you still here?" He spits. He plants the head of his dick directly onto your pearly spunk covered hole. "You want to watch me show you up? You want to watch me make my wife cum on my dick?" He ends the sentence with a smile. Hobie looks away from him to your fucked out face. Your hands were rubbing Miguel's torso with your fingers raking it, silently pleading for him to fuck you. Hobie wished he could tell him, ‘fine, you can fuck my baby into her instead,’ but he decides against it. His good girl still needed to be fucked and his attitude would not help with that.

As much as Miguel wants to continue taunting Hobie, he was ready to give you some real dick. "Damn, baby," he tells you, rubbing his dick between your folds, staining your region and covering himself with white. "You're such a fucking whore for me. He just came in you and now you want more?"

You shake your head. "No, daddy," You whimper. "I want you."

Miguel smiled. "I know you do."

By the time he's started fucking into you, Hobie had long since swung away and took a portal back to his home ready to hump his sheets and imagine he was fucking you again. Maybe this time he'll imagine that Miguel's in the corner.

~

Miguel thought about what went down yesterday as he waited for Hobie and his team to return from an assignment. You had told him hat the two of you were meeting up again when he got back. Today, you would go to his universe.

He doesn't completely understand how you all got here. He has always known that you had a little thing for Hobie, but he never imagined that it would get this far.

For the longest time, Miguel was looking at you, looking at Hobie, looking at you. He wasn’t stupid; he knew you were a bombshell; perfect brown skin, tasty full lips, a cute round nose and a body that puts anyone to shame. Why wouldn’t Hobie get weak at the sight of you? Hell, you’re married to Miguel and he still gets butterflies when you look at him.

He could pretend that it pissed him off that you wanted Hobie too, but when he thought he should have been angry, he felt blood rushing to his member instead. Imagining you on your hands and knees while someone who wasn’t him drilled into you from behind, hearing you moan someone else’s name, lubing his own dick with someone else’s cum and fucking you with it…it made him excited.

Yeah, it was a bit annoying how excited you were when he told you he was okay with you starting a sexual relationship with Hobie, (more like he wanted you to), but as long as you were happy, he was happy. And then he got really happy. When you told him about the small meet-ups you and Hobie had, he couldn't believe himself when he told you to fuck in the therapy sector. He would keep Peter-78988 occupied while you two did your thing in his office. His morals kept him from recording, however, and he desperately wanted to see it happen.

He guesses you knew that, you told him you would be fucking in a new place that Miguel would really really like. He was prepared to wait for you to tell him when it was all said and done, you sitting on your knees and jerking him off as you did it like always, but imagine his surprise when he entered his own office and saw his platform activated and Lyla turned off.

Yesterday was nice, and he hoped that you all could do it again one day, but that day may not be soon.

He didn't appreciate the way Hobie sauntered into HQ that morning, clearly thinking that his shit doesn't stink. It was already annoying that he looks like that regardless, but now he knows he's the shit and that makes him worse. No, he's not actually. He just thinks he is. And Miguel needs to let him know that.

"You," he points at the man after they turned in their reports. He raises his pierced brow. "Stay." Gwen and Margo make a childish ooo~ sound waving bye just before the entrance closes up again.

Hobie stands in front of him, taking his a stare head on. Miguel has his hands on his hips, like he always does, looking like a dad about to scold his son. He fights back a scoff, but he’s annoyed. He had more important things to attend to; he really wants to see if he can make you call him daddy, too.

Miguel gives an ingenuine grin. Hobie's bored expression doesn't change. "Yesterday was something, huh?"

Even though it was clear that this was what Miguel wanted to talk about, it still surprised him that he would. Hobie doesn't let it catch him off guard, though. "Yeah, did you hear her begging me to suck her tit? That was something."

Miguel's "smile" grows wider. "You know what you didn't hear? That you can't make her feel like I do."

Hobie gives him a cocky beam, something that wasn't really becoming of him, but it's been building up for a month now. "You mean like how you can't make her cum? Why she came to me in the first place?"

Miguel gives him a look of realization. "Ohhh." he says. Then, he laughs. He crosses his hands over his chest and shakes his head. Hobie's smile widens. He knows he’s in for it now.

Miguel sighs and calms down. He waves a finger at him. "You know, you can be really funny when you want to."

"I usually get like that when I'm dying of boredom."

"Oh, is my presence not enjoyable?"

"Not nearly as much as your wife's." Hobie lifts his wrist and looks at a pretend watch. "Who I have to be meeting soon, so if you don't mind..."

He turns to walk away but is stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder. He looks back at Miguel and his unsettling grin. The smile that was on Hobie's face has been wiped off. He looks at him unimpressed, despite being nervous inside.

"I don't want to keep her waiting either," he starts. He turns Hobie around fully and looks down at him. "So let me make one thing clear, Hobart." He leans over just enough for Hobie to feel his breath on his face.

"You're only fucking my wife because I allow it. I'm the reason she's keeping your dick wet. Remember that. You will never be enough for her. Ever." With that, he slaps his shoulder encouragingly and pushes him out, ready to get back to work.

Hobie stands outside the room and contemplates what the fuck just occurred. He looks to the floor as his mind runs with memories of every time the two of you fucked. All the "sneaking", all the lying, it was never what it was...He knew about it the whole time.

Hobie could probably find it in him to care, but your pretty face popped up on his watch with you asking where he was and that you wanted him to show you his place.

Yeah, he'll be fine with this.

ending a/n: Tell me what you thinkkkkkkk

Okayyyyyy lmk if u wanna be tagged in part 2 OR WHATEVER

Masterlist

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Ten

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, Drinking / Alcohol, Unpleasant drunk men, Teasing/Gentle Bullying, Pining, Yearning, Anxiety, Overthinking, Some Adult Themes (mild in the grand scheme) and sweet, sweet victory.

Word Count: 4k.

Summary: The day after Jake's failed attempt, he's worried about how uncomfortable the night will be having Charlotte there to train Melody, but things go better than he anticipated.

Author's Note: I'm going to leave a second note at the end of the chapter and all i'm going to say here is, happy Thursday 😉

Save My Life - Niall Horan

"Ever since you walked in, I'm seeing a new light,

Ever since you walked in, it's starting to feel like,

You might save my life."

I have replayed yesterday’s failed attempt in my head approximately four hundred times. The only thing keeping me going is the fact she looked a little disappointed after Linda cockblocked me. That probably isn’t how I should phrase it, but there isn’t a better way at this moment. Knowing that I have to look at her for the bulk of the day is definitely making me more nervous than it should be. 

She still let me know when she made it home after everything, and we talked a little before she fell asleep. Definitely made me feel better since I was prepared for her to be wildly unimpressed. 

Melody’s shift starts at 5 pm, but I’ve been around most of the day as usual. I just hide in my office for a while; the bar isn’t usually too busy in the afternoons, especially during the week. Josh seemed fine with the regulars who were camped out in their usual spots, so I took advantage and snuck away. 

“I should have known you’d already be here,” Charlotte’s voice teased from behind me. Turning around, I saw her leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her. What a sight that is. Her slight smile only distracted me briefly before noticing that her outfit was more casual today. Black turtleneck tucked into plaid slacks. Her shirt was fitted, hugging her petite frame perfectly, and I was suffering. Look respectfully, you’re better than that, don’t be gross…but, fuck me- she’s hot. 

“Hey now,” I pretend to be hurt, “bullying me on the clock isn’t in your job description.”

She laughs at my rebuttal, which everything she did in those two seconds potentially ruined any chance of me being able to focus. All she did was adjust her pants, tugging them up slightly and smoothing them out, but my god. The moment she dropped her arms, I couldn’t help but notice the way she most definitely wasn’t wearing a bra. Don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t stare. 

“Are you training Mel, or is Josh?” she asks, refocusing me. 

“Uh, Josh for a little bit, but I’ll probably relieve him if we start to pick up,” I tell her, almost forgetting the purpose of her being here. I’m gonna need a minute before I can function. 

“Sounds like a plan,” she chirps, “Don’t hide back here for too long.” She smirks at me before disappearing into the hall. 

Holding my face in my hands, I close my eyes for a moment. Get it together. Don’t make her uncomfortable. Staring is rude, or at least don’t be obvious about it. Rubbing my face as I turn back to my desk.

I mumble, “It’s gonna be a long night.”  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

About an hour goes by before the door chime starts to ring repeatedly. Mentally prepared now, I walk behind the bar, sneaking behind Josh and Melody. 

“I’ll take over with her so you can focus,” I whispered to Josh. He just nodded subtly while talking to a customer. It’s the benefit of working with your family: Communication can be incredibly simple, and you don’t have to question whether the other person heard you or not. 

“How is everything going?” I lean against the bar, making sure to keep Mel within eyeshot. 

“She’s honestly incredible,” Charlotte says, scribbling something on her paper. 

“Thank god,” I breathe out, relieved. I wasn’t really worried about Melody, but it’s nice to know it’s not just me. 

“Josh is definitely good at training,” she looks up at me. 

“Oh really?” 

“Mhmm,” she smirks slightly, “you’re alright too.” 

What has gotten into her today? 

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever told me,” I tell her dryly, making her quietly laugh. Looking back over to Mel, she seems a little lost, staring at all the liquor bottles. 

“What are you looking for?”

“Uhh–” she holds up a piece of paper; I really need to stop letting Josh write things down.

“Oh, hold on,” I walk past her, reaching up to one of the higher shelves and grabbing it for her. I stand with her while she mixes it, making sure that she doesn’t need any more help. I find myself glancing over to where Charlotte’s sitting as she’s watching us until her eyes meet mine. My insides twist when she does that, but it only gets worse when she fights a smile as she looks down at her paper, scribbling something again. Are we..

“Does this look right?” Melody asks, pulling my attention back. 

“Yes, it looks perfect,” I tell her, watching her beam for a second as she slides it to the customer, “Just let me know if you need help or a break, okay?” 

She nods, saluting me again. I see Josh walking back with a handful of glasses. He points at the tap, so I grab new ones and start pouring for him. He takes the fresh drinks from me, trotting off the whatever table he talked into another round. 

“Are you impressed yet?” I ask, leaning against the bar across from Charlotte. It’s only partially a joke; I’d do anything to make her smile right now. 

Her eyes linger on my hands before looking up at me; she lets out a small “mmmm.”  I can see her chewing on the inside of her lip as she’s trying to give me more shit. 

“What now?” I laugh. 

“I’d be more impressed if she could make that drink without you hovering over her,” her sweet voice taunting, as she bites her lip, looking away from me. 

 ‘I am just a girl, Jacob’ plays in my head as I look at her. My hand reaches out close to hers, and her head snaps back, watching me as my index finger lightly grazes the back of her hand. 

“You know what, you’re right,” I tell her, backing up as she looks up, meeting my gaze. I shoot her a wink as I turn to go help out, but not before taking in the way her hand covered her mouth, and I could barely see how her face was flushed. Got her.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I peek at Melody while I pour a beer, shifting my gaze back to Charlotte; we’ve been playing this game all night as she watches Mel, making my heart pound harder every time her eyes meet mine. Sneaking glances any chance I get, making the night feel like it’s flying by. 

“Right behind you,” Josh says before I feel his hands grab my shoulders. He leans into me, “Seems like you’re having a good night, huh?” 

The smile growing on my face gives me away. 

“I think she’s into it too,” he adds. 

“She is, isn’t she?” I spit out rather quickly. He squeezes my shoulder before taking off with a few fresh drinks. 

She’ll look at me and then start making little notes, and if she thinks I’m just not going to notice, she is sorely mistaken. What is she taking notes on? Waltzing over, she quickly tucks the page back underneath the stack she has with her. 

“Do you want something to sip on while you’re here?” 

Her eyes light up, “maybe something small,” 

I pour her a little glass of bourbon, still wholly impressed that it’s one of her drinks of choice. Sliding it over to her, she grabs it from me. Letting her fingertips graze mine as she looks at me. Pulling it up to her lips, she takes a small sip. Just watching how the glass sits against her lip makes my hands sweat. 

Her body shivers as she swallows; whether it is the drink or the slight breeze that rolls through the bar when the doors open, I can’t help myself from noticing. 

“Cold?” I ask through a laugh as she rubs her hands together quickly, giggling as she does. 

She nods as she tucks her hands under her legs to warm up. My eyes are drifting as she does. Fuck. I do everything I can not to make my life harder, but the way I can see her peaked nipples through her shirt is definitely not helping. Jake, get a grip. She’s just a girl, and it’s not like she’s trying- oh. My God. It was at this moment I knew I was fucked. She had leaned back just enough to plaster her shirt even tighter to her body. Her nipples are pierced; that’s so normal. I feel totally fine. As I try to convince myself to be calm, I feel my dick twitch, and I force my gaze away from her. Fucking HELL THIS GIRL. 

Silently, I turn around and walk to the other end of the bar, taking the orders of whoever looked ready, anything to keep my brain occupied. I’ve always been one to look at women who pique my interest respectfully, but this is rapidly becoming an exception to my morals.  I would never have imagined her to be someone with any sort of piercings, aside from maybe her ears, of course. She was always so put together and professional; didn’t even consider what she could be hiding underneath it. I shake my head, hoping to rid all the potential thoughts that could flow through.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

She spent a few minutes talking with Mel, even though her eyes kept finding mine. Something so small, so innocent, but my stomach would beg to differ with how the butterflies erupt when I see her gaze shift over to me. Never thought I’d just want someone to watch me as much as I do her. 

“Excuse me?” I hear Mel’s voice cut through the chatter of the bar. A clearly intoxicated man was standing close to Charlotte, his hand on the back of her chair, and I could tell from her face that she was trying to be polite. 

After sliding a drink across the bar, I walk over to see what’s happening. Watching Charlotte back away slightly from him as he talks at her, I know Melody well enough that if I don’t stop this situation, she will. 

“Do you know him?” I look directly at Charlotte. 

She just shakes her head, and her eyes go wide. I tap Mel’s arm and point, silently telling her to worry about the bar. 

“Hey buddy,” I start. “I don’t think she’s interested, so why don’t you just–” I wave, gesturing that he should move along. 

“If she’d let me buy her a shot, I bet she would be,” he slurs a bit. The warmth was already spreading throughout my body.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re a real catch, but if she said no, then drop it.” 

He looks back at her, “Don’t listen to this asshole, babe. Probably just mad he can’t fuck you.” My jaw clenched at the crass comment. I have a better chance than this fucking dude. 

“What the fuck?” She gasps, “Did you really think YOU had a chance?” 

He throws his hands up, “the night is young, beautiful.” 

Get away from her. 

“Yeah, you’re done,” I snapped. I can’t stop it from coming out. My body is tense. 

“What?” 

“Go. Get out. You’re done.” 

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You’re not going to disrespect women in my bar, now GO.” My voice raises as I point to the door, staring this drunk down until he finally backs up, flipping me off as he storms out. 

I can feel my body shake slightly; I’ve never been a fan of confronting people like that, but it comes with the territory. Taking a deep breath, as subtle as possible, I can feel her staring at me. 

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I ask quietly. 

She just looks at me, her expression soft, “Um, yes.” Carefully, she picks up her glass and takes another sip of her drink; I can see her hand shake as she holds it. The anger I felt watching him talk to her still lingers as I watch her try to relax; nothing I can’t stand more than men treating women like a piece of meat. 

“You don’t have to do this tonight,” I tell her, “I can talk to Melody, and I’ll just keep an eye on her tonight so you can go home if you want.” 

“Thank you,” she says, just above a whisper. I motion to her to hang on a second, letting Josh know that I’m going to step out for a few minutes; I meet her at the end of the bar. 

“Want to walk with me for a second? I’ll walk you back to your car after.” She nods quickly, a subtle smile gracing her lips.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Is it weird talking in person?” she asks as we walk towards my usual spot near the water. “Well, about.. not work.. stuff, obviously.”

“I don’t think weird is the right word,” I smile at her, “But seeing you switch from professional to this is definitely wild, though.” 

She breathes out a sigh as she leans against the railing, looking out to the water, “Well, you’ve already.. unfortunately… seen a lot of everything except this.” 

I lean against the railing next to her, enjoying the sounds of the small waves crashing against the cement. 

“I have to say,” I start quietly, “I think drunk Charlotte was the most fun of the alternatives so far.” The smirk grows on my face as she grabs my arm, gently pushing me away from her. 

“Hey! You basically are at fault for that one,” she says with a laugh, “you kept giving me fresh drinks, and who was I to turn that down?” I let out a loud laugh; she’s not wrong. I couldn’t help myself. 

“Fair enough,” I put my hands up in surrender, “I’ll take the blame for that one. But, it was a fun night for me, at least.” Thinking back to the way she stared at me while I was cleaning up, her fingers laced in mine as I helped her up the stairs, the way she kissed my cheek after helping her break her zipper. 

I just watch her as she stares out at the waves. The way the streetlamp glow bounces off her hair, you can still see its color even though it’s so dark. Her face finally seemed calm, relieved after the last handful of times I’d been around her. She always seems so focused and unamused while she’s working. But, the alternatives have been crying or drunk as hell, so just peaceful is nice. I’m glad she seems comfortable, at least. 

I look down a bit, noticing the way she’s holding herself, this poor girl. 

“You look freezing,” I reach out, rubbing her arm to try and warm her, “Actually, here.” I slide my flannel off, draping it over her shoulders before she quickly slides her arms into it. 

“You’re so sweet,” she lets slip out, her eyes wide after it leaves her mouth. A statement I’ve heard a million times from a bunch of different girls I’ve gone out with, but something about it coming from her feels better. 

“Looks cute,” I quietly say before biting at the inside of my lip to fight smiling too big. 

She covers her face with her hands, hidden in the sleeves of my flannel. I can just hear her small laugh muffled through it. Her laugh is becoming one of my favorite sounds, and that’s terrifying.

“Stooop,” she can’t even make it through the whine without laughing.

“And what if I can’t?”  

She looks over at me; I don’t think I’ll ever get used to her stare. She goes from holding my gaze to my mouth to slowly glancing down until she looks back at the water. I follow her lead.

“I come out here a lot,” I finally break the silence, pausing my thoughts. I feel her gently graze my forearm; timidly, she slides her hand into mine. My stomach turns with nerves before finally spitting out, “whenever the bar starts to feel too loud.” 

“I can’t imagine you being overwhelmed like that,” her voice lower now.

I ran my thumb over the back of her hand, hoping she couldn’t feel me shaking, “It’s just nice to escape the chaos for a minute.”  I felt like if I didn’t keep talking, she could hear my heartbeat. 

“So, anyway–” I start as she turns to face me. I can’t figure out what she’s feeling between the dim light and the look in her eyes. My nerves start creeping up on me again. 

She steps forward, eyes locked on mine. She leans against me, placing her free hand against my chest, and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth.  

I freeze, looking at her, trying to find an answer to the question I can’t seem to spit out. All I can hear is my heartbeat, and I feel my body start to shake. She’s staring back at me; all I can think of is how badly I’ve wanted to kiss her. Just take the chance, Jake. 

I step towards her, bringing my hands up to cradle her jaw, and I swear time has slowed. Her body leaning into me, her hands finding their place against my chest, as I barely ghost my lips over hers. 

“Is this okay?” I whisper, desperate for the answer. 

She looks at me for not even a second before letting out the smallest, “Please.” 

My lips can’t find hers fast enough. I let out every ounce of air in my body; the relief was surreal. She was softer and sweeter than I could have ever dreamed as she pressed her lips against my top one. I swear I can feel the blood moving through my veins, and I can’t do anything about the smile that may be permanently on my face at this point. Neither of us knew when to stop, taking turns placing playful little pecks on each other. 

She snaked her arms up around my neck, pulling back for a second. Then she looked up at me, giggling quietly—those eyes. The feeling that spread through my chest as she looked at me; my body immediately felt hot. I can’t stop the grin growing on my face as I look at her, tilting her chin up towards me.

“So, uh..” I whisper. 

She simply shushes me before she goes back for another kiss. I feel her smile against me, something no woman I’ve managed to get to this point with has ever done. My heart feels like it could rupture as it just rattles my skeleton.  Lingering as long as I can, lightly tugging on her bottom lip with mine, her hands shifting to hold the sides of my neck while I deepend the kiss. Her fingertips pressed into me as our mouths slowly moved against each other; everything felt desperate, like we’d been deprived of this moment.   

She leaves one hand on the side of my neck as she holds my jaw, running her thumb across my lip. How is she- 

“Perfect,” she whispers, letting out another soft giggle. 

I pull her into me, her arms back around my neck, and gently lift her, making her laugh. 

“Jacob!”

“What is it, honey?”

Her face flushed at the name; I pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and then against her forehead, lingering there for a moment. A breeze reminding us of where we are.  Holy shit, I did it. 

“I should probably head home,” she whispers against my lips.

“Mmm.. One more,” I mumble into her. We giggle through another slow kiss until I feel her shiver, moving closer to me to steal my warmth. I wrap her up in a hug, feeling her body against mine. Breathing her in, fighting the urge to kiss the side of her head a million times. 

Finally, mumbling to her, “Let’s get you to your car before you freeze.”

Her hand comfortably holds my bicep as we walk, and I can’t help but steal glances at her any chance I get. 

The rest of the night at the bar dragged on, helping Melody be sure of what she was mixing as I was daydreaming about Charlotte’s lips on mine. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

As soon as I get home, I fall into my routine, knocking on Josh’s door.

“You can come in,” his muffled voice said. Opening the door, I got comfortable in my usual position against his doorframe. We both knew that if I sat down, neither of us would get any sleep. 

We go through our usual questions, asking about each other's day and how the bar was; catching each other up has become a habit. 

“I know you’re hiding something,” he says, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, “what did you do?” 

“What do you mean?” my hand finding comfort on the back of my neck. 

“You haven’t stopped smiling this whole time,” I can see the gears turning in his head, “not that you don’t smile normally, but this feels different.” 

I don’t need to tell him. I can keep it to myself.. maybe. 

“It’s Charlotte, isn’t it?” He asks, eyes squinted at me. 

My face turned red, giving me away, “um.” 

“OH, IT IS. WHAT HAPPENED?” 

I walk over and sit on the end of his bed before finally caving, “I kissed her.” Looking over at him, I can’t hide my smile anymore. He flings himself across the bed, pulling me into a hug. 

“Jake, oh my god, I’m so happy for you,” he can’t get the words out fast enough, “Tell me everything!”

There we sat for a while, just recounting the entire situation for him. My face hurt physically from the smile that I couldn’t shake off. It was perfect.

“Between the two of us and these four walls,” he starts, “she’s definitely–” his eyes widen as he looks at me. It’s always funny to me when he clocks into being a typical man; he’s never one to care about people’s physical appearance, nor does it affect how he thinks of someone, but it will always make me laugh when someone catches his eye enough for him to bring it up. 

“No, I know. She’s gorgeous; it’s insane that she even looks at me.” 

He just looks at me momentarily before his hand finds its place on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. Being twins, we’ve always been close and heavily rely on each other for many things. Physical touch has always been big for both of us, which we’re convinced is because we were forced to be close before we were even on this earth. 

“It’s nice to see you like this,” he says, swallowing quietly. 

My hand moves to cover his, feeling the comfort coming from him before I finally admit, “I’ve never felt like this before.” My stomach turns at the thought. What if she regrets it tomorrow? Was it just a lapse of judgment? Oh my god, she’s going to hate-

“What’s wrong?” He quickly clocks my mood shift. 

“Nothing. I just don’t want to get too ahead of myself this time, is all.” 

He pauses for a moment, sighing slightly, before looking back at me. 

“Jake, it’s okay to be scared,” he tells me, “But you also deserve to be happy. I can tell by how she looks at you that you’re not scaring her off. So, just do what you do best and let her guide this endeavor,” he says, waving his hands around in true Josh fashion.  

Looking down for a second, I know he’s right. My chest feels heavy as I sit in my doubt until Josh grabs my arms, forcing me to look at him.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he whispers, “let yourself be happy and free. You’ve earned it.” 

I know he’s right. I should just let things happen and see what comes of it. I’ll just try not to get my hopes too high. The anxiety starts to fade as we sit there for a few more minutes until my phone vibrates on his bed, and all my nerves seemingly melt away when I pick it up. 

Charlotte: I made it home ❤️

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Author's Note part two: WE DID IT, WE MADE IT!! I'M PUNCHING THE AIR AND SCREAMING WITH ALL OF YOU. AHHHHHH I've been dying over this chapter for a while and MY GOD they are so cute and this chapter makes me want to cry for them!

Chapter Nine

Chapter Eleven

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[mypoisonedvine]

idk if u are into this kinda thing but u should write something for a pedro character with a foot fetish 🫣 personally i think either javier or marcus would absolutely worship every part of ur body

ohhh I'm very much into this kind of thing... marcus totally seems like the type (I assume you mean pike not moreno so that's what I went with)

warnings: subby marcus, semi-public/fooling around at work, foot fetish (duh), orgasm control

He should've never said anything about your heels. He realized that now.

"Dominatrix vibes, huh?" you smirked as he felt his face heat up. "Is that a bad thing? Should I grab my tennis shoes from my car?"

"Uh, not necessarily," he replied. "I just meant 'cause they're stilettos and all— and the spikes, I mean, come on. You can't tell me you don't see it."

"No, no, I'm not disagreeing," you assured. "Maybe that's what I was going for."

He swallowed thickly. You were a pretty intense lady, a real go-getter in the office, and that's saying something considering pretty much everyone who works at the FBI is dedicated and serious. You were bordering on uptight, though; you didn't really go out after work, which Marcus resented because he wanted a chance to get to know you better. You didn't joke around with people, you didn't talk about your personal life. So he was just a bit taken aback to see you wearing those shoes— black, shiny stilettos with silver spikes around the pointed toe. He only pointed them about because he thought it might start a conversation, and I suppose in that way, he got what he wanted. But you were looking right through him now and he realized he'd definitely bit off more than he could chew.

"I wear the same thing basically every day," you shrugged, "black slacks, black blazer, white shirt. I think different outfits can be... distracting."

"Those shoes are definitely distracting," he agreed.

"I can tell," you smirked. "Your slacks are giving that away, Pike."

He choked and adjusted himself in his pants as he wiggled around slightly in his desk chair, but it was already too late; he was so gonna get written up for getting a boner at work... "S-sorry," he blurted out, "it's not— sorry— I was just—"

"It's fine," you laughed, "I won't tell. I just think it's funny."

"Yeah," he breathed, trying to figure out what he could possibly say to that. "I guess it is. But you can't tell me you didn't want somebody to notice your shoes."

"Notice? Sure. Get off on? No, that wasn't my plan," you assured with a bit of an eyeroll.

"Woah, woah— nobody's getting off on anything," he defended, "I'm just surprised, is all. Sort of the last thing I expected you to wear."

"You don't know anything about me."

"Whose fault is that?"

You sighed, turning in your swivel chair to face him again. "What do you wanna know about me?" you asked, point-blank.

"Uh..." he hesitated, not sure where to start with that question. "Sort of an... abrupt way to open up, don't you think?"

"I figure once you know me, you'll get over your crush," you explained, "and we can all get back to work."

Thankfully, we all was a pretty small crowd with only you two in this portion of the office— there were other people somewhere in the building, he wasn't sure where and he couldn't possibly think about it now, but for all intents and purposes, you two were alone. That fact dawned on him rather suddenly.

"I don't have a crush, I'm just interested in you," Marcus insisted.

"That's what a crush is," you replied.

"I mean as a person! I'm interested in who you are, I don't mean like... that, really..."

"Uh huh," you agreed, though you didn't seem to believe him. You rolled your chair closer. "Just ask away, I'm an open book."

"Well, okay," Marcus decided, spinning to face you again as well and hoping his tie was long enough when he was sitting to cover the bulge in his pants. "Where did you... grow up?"

"Not far from here," you said quickly. He opened his mouth to say more, but shivered when he felt your shoe brush against his ankle. Oh fuck. "I'll answer before you ask: easy childhood, normal family, my parents are nice, my siblings live far away."

But he was hardly listening— you were running the pointed toe of that heel up his leg, making his jaw drop a bit.

"Keep asking," you ordered.

"Uh," he choked, "do you have any... hobbies?"

"I like going to the movies," you said, planting your foot between his spread legs on the chair, letting the end of the stiletto heel brush his inner thigh as he jumped, "and concerts sometimes."

"Fuck," he breathed before clearing his throat. "Do you like... uh... do you like Indian food?"

"That's your third question?" you raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"I was thinking of taking you out," he said, his eyes glued on the way you teased his thigh with your heel, "for Indian. Would you like that?"

"Oh," you replied, "you were thinking of taking me out. I see. Just that, then— you were thinking of buying me dinner."

"Y-yeah..."

"You weren't thinking about fucking me?"

He whimpered as your shoe pressed up (gently) against the bulge in his slacks, and his hips rocked up against you ever so slightly. "Oh, god—"

"You weren't thinking about bending me over your desk?" you continued, taunting him with a proud grin on your face. You were so fucking pretty, he kept looking back between your face and your heel between his thighs— and that long, gorgeous leg in between, he could see your pantyhose up this close...

"I— I wasn't— I mean—" he stammered.

"Or is that not your thing?" you tilted your head. "Were you wanting it more, like, I'd come up to you and straddle you in that chair and ride you until I was satisfied? Maybe make you eat me out under my desk?"

"Oh, fuck," he gasped as you pressed your shoe harder against him. "I— I never thought about it like that. But I... I am now."

You giggled happily, and the sound made his heart twist. "You seem to like my shoes a lot, Marc, I hope you don't mind if I take them off."

He had to bite his lip when you kicked your heel off and let it fall to the ground, leaving your foot in the skin-tone pantyhose to tickle his leg instead; the shoe was a great visual, don't get me wrong, but feeling you bend and flex your foot, pointing your toes, and seeing that you had your toenails painted with some kind of sparkly polish? It drove him fucking wild.

"Yeah, I don't think you mind."

"I— fuck, angel," he groaned, his head falling back as you pressed your now basically-bare foot against his bulge, your toes tickling his head while your heel put pressure on his aching balls. "Fuck."

"I think you thought about this before," you smirked. "Don't lie to me."

"I did," he admitted, "it's just— that day you wore the stockings with the black line up the back..."

You smiled proudly. "You're a bit of a pervert, aren't you, Pike?"

"I— yeah, I guess so," he panted, starting to grind himself against your foot shamelessly. "But you're the one that wears dominatrix shoes."

You chuckled and bit your lip. "Yeah, that's fair. You know, I think I'll let you take me out for dinner sometime after all."

His eyes opened again and he looked at you. "Really?" he asked.

"If you come in your pants for me, right now."

"Oh, fuck," he grunted, his hands holding on tight to the armrests of his chair.

"You think you can come just from my foot on your dick?"

"P-probably..."

"You're such a naughty boy," you cooed, and he bit his lip.

"I'm— I'm close," he admitted quietly, jumping slightly when you moved your foot down so your toes could tickle his tightened balls. "Shit, angel, m'gonna— yeah, I'll come. Fuck."

"Mm, good— I like when you're obedient," you decided. "Good behavior gets you far with me. Just do what you're told and you'll get what you want, got it?"

"Yes— yes ma'am..."

You grinned and rubbed your foot harder against him. "Come, Marcus."

He winced, hissing through his teeth, and a second later he was over the edge— his cock flexed against your foot and hot, sticky come flooded his boxers. His flushed face was twisted in pleasure, and he heard you hum in delight as he relaxed in his chair with the last pump of come leaving his balls.

"Good job," you praised, though your voice was still stern; he reached down and rested his hand on your leg, grasping your foot briefly before running his fingers up your stocking-clad skin.

"That was... Jesus," he choked. "Was that just to get back at me for saying you had on dominatrix shoes?"

"Not just that," you giggled. "Besides, you're wearing submissive bitch boy shoes."

He looked at his oxfords and back up at you. "What? How?"

You shrugged. "Just because you're wearing them."

As if you hadn't embarrassed him enough already. Not that he was complaining.

"Now get back to work," you sighed, pulling your foot away and slipping effortlessly back into your heels; you turned away from him again and tapped at your keyboard to get your computer awake again. "You can take me out Friday night."

"O-okay," he nodded, awkwardly clearing his throat and preparing to pretend to work for the rest of the day— because obviously, he was not going to be productive whatsoever.

[selfless-solipsist]

°˖✧ The Villain Meeting ✧˖° [Wander]

[I'm now writing in second-person pov, figured that it's better]

「 ✦ “A good tumble and a good laugh? You really do spoil me!” ✦ 」

╰┈➤ Wander x Female Reader ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You lounged on your massive, luxurious bed, your spaceship's quarters dimly lit by the ambient glow of the galaxy streaking past your window. The room was a clutter of indulgent villainous chaos: trophies of conquered worlds, a few stolen artifacts glowing ominously in the corner, and a mountain of mismatched pillows threatening to consume the bed. The camera for the weekly villain meeting framed only your face and shoulders, projecting your indifferent expression to the rest of the galaxy's bickering baddies.

In one window of the screen, Lord Hater lagged, his skeletal face frozen mid-rant. The lime-green glow of his eyes stuttered as his connection battled galactic interference. His jagged teeth were locked in what might have been a scream, or possibly a sneeze—it was hard to tell.

"No! I'm the best!" Lag freeze "THE GREATEST!" his voice caught up for a brief, ear-piercing second before cutting out again.

Great start.

Next to him, Emperor Awesome's window displayed a shark-headed jock wheezing with laughter, his muscular frame bouncing as he clutched his sides. "Oh my Grop, Hater, you're such a noob. Fix your signal, bro!" he barked, flashing teeth that belonged more in a horror film than a galactic council meeting. He adjusted his spiked black belt, as if his hot-pink disco pants weren't already screaming for attention.

To the right of Awesome, Kragthar of Kraaathhh's video feed had frozen in the worst possible moment. His pig-like nose was scrunched up, and the angle of the camera had blessed him with an unflattering double chin. Pink flames barely flickered on the edge of his frozen frame, and his name placard blinked accusingly with the misspelled label: "Kragthar of Kaarrtthh."

You snorted softly, not bothering to hide the smirk playing on your lips. With one hand, you twirled a lollipop lazily, the sugary treat clicking against your teeth whenever you took a disinterested lick. This spectacle of absurdity—this villainous... PowerPoint meeting from hell—was the most entertainment you had had all week. 

And yet, none of them noticed the most chaotic part of your situation.

Nestled beneath the covers, Wander had made himself at home against you. His wide, floppy green hat sat precariously atop your bra on the nightstand, a quiet testament to the pre-meeting activities you had indulged in. The tangerine-colored nomad, with his always-cheerful grin, was currently kneading at your chest like a contented cat making biscuits. His eyes were half-lidded in concentration, his furred stomach lightly brushing against your bare skin under the blankets. You could feel his warm breath against your collarbone as he hummed a nonsensical tune.

It was absurd. Ridiculous. Incredibly Wander. 

And you? 

You were just letting him. After all, you were his first girlfriend, and if there was one thing Wander adored, it was you. Or maybe it was just your boobs. The distinction didn't matter—you had conquered galaxies; you could handle the attentions of a fluffy orange spoon.

"Mmm," Wander mumbled, pausing his feline-like ministrations to nuzzle closer. "You're so soft... like a cloud!"

"I'm sure," you murmured dryly, shifting the lollipop to the other side of your mouth. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and adjusted the camera slightly, ensuring that none of his antics made it onto the screen.

"Uh, hello!?" Awesome's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. His window expanded slightly as he leaned closer to his camera, completely ignoring the frozen Kragthar and the lagging Hater. "You gonna back me up, or what? I clearly throw way better parties than anyone else here."

"You trashed an entire planet because they ran out of Thunderblazz," you replied flatly, your deadpan tone cutting through his bravado like a laser. "Such an achievement."

"Hey! That's... well, yeah, but it was justified! They insulted my vibes!" Awesome crossed his arms, pouting like a toddler denied a candy bar.

"Right. Very villainous of you," you drawled, taking another languid lick of your lollipop. You could feel Wander's soft chuckle vibrate against your ribs as he resumed his "biscuit-making."

Suddenly, Hater's voice burst through, his connection deciding to cooperate just long enough for him to yell, "I don't care about your dumb parties! I'm the GREATEST IN THE GALAXY!"

"Aw, is someone grumpy?" The shark villan teased, throwing an arm around his chair like he was about to break into song. "Maybe you need a little... cha-cha-cha... dance therapy?" He wiggled his shoulders in a ridiculous shimmy.

You couldn't help it. A laugh slipped out before you could stifle it, and both Awesome and Hater froze, staring at your screen. Wander, oblivious to the unfolding drama, nuzzled further against you, his content purr-like hum barely audible to the microphone.

Hater squinted suspiciously. "What... what was that noise?" he demanded, leaning closer to his camera until his skull face filled the screen.

"Oh, nothing," you said smoothly, leaning your chin on one hand. "Just enjoying the... entertainment."

The screen flickered, and Kragthar's frozen image briefly dissolved into static before reappearing with an even worse angle. Awesome fell back into laughter, and Hater's ranting resumed. Meanwhile, the nomad continued his affectionate mischief under the covers, blissfully unaware of the chaos on screen—and you wouldn't have it any other way.

After all, this was just how the meetings went.

And pure chaos they were.

The meeting droned on, but you were hardly paying attention. With each second, Wander's innocent humming and his peculiar choice of leisure activity had your focus divided. As the galaxy's most infamous villains argued over meaningless power grabs and party etiquette, he was blissfully undeterred by the chaos, his tiny hands working their so-called magic. You didn't even want to ask what kind of "technique" he thought this was.

"Woo-wee, darlin'," Wander suddenly piped up, his Southern twang as thick as molasses and ten times as dangerous. His bright eyes sparkled as they darted to the lollipop in your hand. "I gotta say, sugar, you sure know how to put that mouth of yours to real good use!"

You choked. Literally.

The lollipop caught mid-motion as your body betrayed you, sending you into a coughing fit. Your eyes watered as you sputtered, desperate to regain composure before the meeting's chaos magnified. A hand shot to your throat, the other gripping the edge of the covers to keep from exposing more than your pride.

On the screen, Awesome was mid-sentence, but he stopped. "Uh... You good there?" His shark-like grin faltered as his muscled arms flexed unconsciously, like he was ready to save you or something.

"Fine!" you croaked, waving a hand to dismiss his concern while glaring daggers at Wander. He simply giggled, leaning his head on your shoulder and giving your cheek a noisy, exaggerated kiss, as if you hadn't already suffered enough embarrassment for one meeting.

"Aw, she's blushing!" The other villain cackled, pointing at your screen with glee. "What's got you so flustered? Someone got a crush on me?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and you shot him a glare that could have incinerated a moon.

Before you could retaliate verbally, Hater's screen blinked back to life with a vengeance. "WHAT WAS THAT?!" he roared, leaning so close to his camera that his skeletal features were practically burnt into your retinas.

"What was what?" you asked coolly, fighting the urge to shove Wander off as he snuggled even closer, practically melting into you like butter on a hot biscuit.

"That! That kissy noise!" Hater's finger jabbed at the camera, his green eyes narrowing. "That wasn't you! That was—!" His voice broke off, and his bony jaw dropped as Wander, ever the beacon of cheerful audacity, waved enthusiastically at the screen.

"Hiya, buddy!" Wander chirped, his grin as bright as a supernova. "Fancy seein' you here! Boy howdy, you look madder than a rattlesnake with a sore tooth!"

Hater didn't just see red; he saw the entire spectrum of anger. 

"WANDER?! What the—what the actual galaxy—YOU'RE HERE?!" He clutched his chest as if the betrayal physically pained him. "How... how could you—?! You of all people—!" His finger shook, bouncing between you and Wander's joyous expression.

"Yup, it's me!" The nomad confirmed, unfazed by the villain's meltdown. "Bet you're wonderin' how we're doin', huh? Well, let me tell ya—"

You slapped a hand over his mouth faster than light. "Don't," you hissed under your breath, your tone laced with warning. The grin beneath your palm widened mischievously. Wander mumbled something you couldn't decipher, but you knew it wasn't anything innocent.

"THAT'S IT! I'VE OFFICIALLY LOST IT!" The skeleton screeched, flailing in his chair like an overgrown toddler. "You—YOU—how can YOU be dating the biggest do-gooder in the galaxy?!"

"Technically," you mused, removing your hand from Wander's face, "I'm dating the cutest do-gooder in the galaxy." You gave the man in question a quick pinch on the cheek, earning a delighted giggle from the little orange menace.

And so your boyfriend leaned into the camera, squinting as if he couldn't quite see Hater properly. "Aw, Hatey, ya got a little somethin'—" he gestured vaguely at his own mouth "—right there. Oh, wait, that's just yer face!"

Awesome wheezed so hard he fell out of his chair. Hater screamed, louder than any hyperspace explosion.

Meanwhile, Kragthar's frozen feed continued to blink ominously in the background, an unintentional metaphor for the utter absurdity that had become your evening.

But then Hater's meltdown reached a fever pitch as he jabbed his skeletal finger at the screen. "GET HIM OFF MY SCREEN! I CAN'T TAKE IT! I'M GONNA LOSE MY—"

Before he could finish, a small, distinctly familiar figure popped into a brand-new window on the call. Bob, one of Hater's Watchdogs, blinked his single red eye innocently. "Uh, is this the meeting Commander Peepers set up for us soldiers?" His high-pitched voice crackled through, distorted slightly by his outdated microphone.

"WHO DARES?! WHAT THE—GET OUT OF HERE!" The overlord shrieked, flinging his bony arms around like he could swat the screen. His lime-green eyes burned brighter, their glow stuttering with his frazzled internet connection. "THIS ISN'T FOR YOU! YOU'RE RUINING EVERYTHING!"

"Oh, my bad, my bad!" Bob stammered, hands raised apologetically. But before he could click out of the meeting, two more Watchdog windows popped up.

"Wait, Bob, are you in the Peepers meeting?" one Watchdog asked, tilting his head quizzically. "I thought it was supposed to be a video conference," another chimed in, their audio cutting in and out like a bad radio signal.

"GET OUT!" Hater bellowed, his entire skull vibrating with frustration. "I DON'T CARE WHERE YOU GO—JUST NOT HERE!"

But it was too late.

Like an unstoppable domino effect, Watchdog windows began multiplying across the screen. They filled every available space, little cyclopean heads popping in with confused expressions, echoing queries of "Is this the meeting?" and "What's going on?" And within moments, the chaos reached its peak. Some of them began discovering the filters and effects, their tiny faces morphing into sparkly cat ears, rainbow overlays, and inexplicable pirate hats. One even activated a setting that turned their screen into a shimmering underwater paradise, complete with bubbles.

Wander clapped his hands gleefully, leaning closer to the screen. "Hey there, Wally! Oh, and there's Pip! Oh golly, how've ya been, Scoots? Ooh, nice filter, Zeke! You're lookin' sharp!"

Hater twitched violently as his arch-nemesis greeted every single soldier by name. The lag caused his image to freeze, leaving him stuck in a pose disturbingly similar to The Thinker. His skeletal chin rested thoughtfully on one fist, right next to Kragthar's perpetually frozen, unflattering frame. The juxtaposition made it look like the skeleton was silently judging a piece of avant-garde art.

Emperor Awesome's laughter rang out again as he pointed at the screen, tears streaming from his black shark eyes. "Hater! Bro! You look like you're contemplating the meaning of life over there! Oh, man, this is rich!"

"GET ME OUT OF THIS NIGHTMARE!" Hater's voice finally broke through, though his video feed remained stuck. He sounded like he was on the verge of shattering into a thousand angry pieces. "WHY DO THEY HAVE FILTERS?! WHO LET THEM TOUCH THE SETTINGS?!"

One Watchdog with a starry galaxy background piped up cheerfully, "I dunno, sir, but this is awesome!"

"No, it's not!" He yelled back, his lagging audio dragging out the last word into an embarrassing robotic whine.

Meanwhile, Wander was fully absorbed in his reunion tour, waving at every single Watchdog who popped up. You couldn't help but laugh as he adjusted his position, now sitting cross-legged on the bed with the covers barely clinging to your dignity. Every cheer and greeting from the helper seemed to amplify Hater's rage to catastrophic levels.

And through it all, Kragthar's window remained frozen, his double-chin glory unbothered by the chaos erupting around him.

After a while, Wander let out a happy sigh, wrapping his arms snugly around your torso as he nestled against you like the world’s most cheerful barnacle. His expression was pure bliss, his wide, innocent grin showcasing just how thoroughly satisfied he was—not just from your “pre-meeting activities” but from the sheer joy of now having an audience to torment Hater in front of. For Wander, it was like hitting the universal jackpot.

“Boy howdy, darlin’,” he cooed, his Southern drawl warm and syrupy. “A good tumble and a good laugh? You really do spoil me!” He punctuated the statement with a loud, playful smooch on your cheek, making your lollipop almost tumble from your lips for the second time that night.

Hater’s scream was instantaneous.

“GET YOUR DISGUSTING LOVE STUFF OFF MY SCREEN! THIS IS A PROFESSIONAL MEETING!”

Wander grinned, leaning lazily against you. “Aw, Hatey, you’re just jealous ‘cause you ain’t got anyone to smooch on! Don't worry, love will find ya, buddy!” He fluttered his eyelashes dramatically, eliciting a furious screech from the skeleton that was so loud, several Watchdogs in the windows visibly flinched.

But desperate to regain some semblance of control, Hater stabbed at his console, his bony fingers jamming buttons with reckless abandon. Unfortunately, his efforts backfired spectacularly. Kragthar’s frozen feed suddenly unfroze (how it was connected in any way nobody knew), his frame jolting to life—only for his camera to flip completely upside down. Now, the hulking, flaming villain appeared to be dangling from the top of the screen, his face twisting in confused annoyance.

“WHAT IS THIS SORCERY?!” The flaming villain bellowed, his voice booming as his tusked face swung wildly close to the upside-down lens. The pink flames around him flickered comically as he tried to correct his position, succeeding only in making himself look like a villainous bat clinging to the screen’s edge.

Awesome completely lost it. His laughter was so uncontrollable that he fell out of frame entirely, the sound of his chair toppling over barely audible through his gasping wheezes. “This… is… the BEST MEETING EVER!” he managed between gulps of air, his silhouette occasionally flailing as he fought to stand back up.

“EVERYBODY SHUT UP!” Hater howled, slamming his fists on his console. His frozen feed remained stuck in “The Thinker” pose, which only added to the absurdity of his impotent rage. “Watchdogs, GET OUT! ALL OF YOU, GET OUT!”

The Watchdogs panicked, their screens erupting into frantic activity as dozens of them tried to exit the call simultaneously. The result was a technological nightmare of body parts: close-ups of Watchdog butts, feet, elbows, and other awkward angles flooded the screen as they fumbled with their devices. One window briefly displayed a Watchdog’s lightning-bolt helmet bouncing as he tripped over something off-screen. Another window zoomed in uncomfortably close on a single eye, the pupil darting in all directions in a state of pure terror.

“LEAVE! LEAVE! I DON’T WANNA SEE YOUR BUTTS!” Their boss screamed, his voice cracking like a broken speaker. “WHY ARE THERE SO MANY BUTTS?!”

Why indeed.

Wander was giggling so hard now that tears streamed down his furry orange cheeks. He tightened his grip around you, burying his face against your neck as he cackled. “Oh, Hatey,” he gasped, his voice muffled. “You sure know how to throw a party! Maybe Awesome’s not the only one with ‘vibes,’ huh?”

“WANDER!” Hater screeched. His fury was palpable, even through the ridiculous frozen pose he remained trapped in. “GET OFF MY SCREEN! GET OFF MY—”

“Whoopsie-doodle!” The nomad interrupted cheerfully, reaching toward your camera and tilting it slightly, booping one of the buttons with his fuzzy finger. Now, Hater’s frozen, contemplative image sat directly next to Kragthar’s upside-down chaos, creating an accidental tableau that looked like Hater was thoughtfully judging Kragthar’s bat-like acrobatics.

“Perfect composition,” Wander said with an exaggerated artistic air, nodding approvingly. “You should hang this in your art gallery, Hatey.”

The skeleton’s scream reached a decibel level so high it could probably shatter glass.

But with the Watchdogs finally gone, the chaos levels dropped from apocalyptic to merely disastrous. Hater was still frozen on-screen in his “The Thinker” pose, but his voice had returned, though strained and wheezing like an overworked hovercraft. He took a deep, unnecessary breath and growled, “Okay… okay. They’re gone. I can almost pretend this isn’t the worst meeting of my life.”

You, smirking behind your lollipop, raised a hand placatingly. “Don’t worry, Hater. I’ll keep Wander behaved.” You patted the hatless head of your boyfriend, earning a delighted nuzzle that screamed anything but behaved.

Hater’s jaw visibly clenched. “As I was saying,” he began, his tone low and simmering with suppressed rage, “about the dibs on Planet Gronko—”

A new screen suddenly popped up, overtaking half the feed. 

Because of course.

The dark, blurry image of a hunched figure materialized, his ancient, wrinkled green face squinting at the camera as though it were a malevolent spirit. It was Mandrake the Malfeasant, and he looked as confused and technologically inept as ever.

“By the void, what in tarnation is this?” The old man croaked, his raspy voice thick with confusion and phlegm. He leaned forward, his beady eyes magnified grotesquely by his glasses. “Is this blasted contraption on? Hrmph! Took me half an eon to figure it out, but I won’t let some puny gadget outsmart me!”

Hater’s entire skeletal frame visibly sagged in despair. “No… no, not again… Mandrake, this is the seventeenth time—”

Mandrake cut him off with a hacking cough that sounded like a dying engine. He clutched his chest dramatically, wheezing so violently it looked like he might keel over. “It’s fine!” he rasped between coughs, waving off the concern that no one offered. “This old villain’s still got plenty of steam in him! Nothing—cough, cough—nothing can take me down. Not even… that dreaded Batman!”

Wander’s nonexistent ears perked up, his mouth twitching with suppressed giggles. “Batman?” he echoed, his wide grin growing impossibly wider. “Golly, Mandrake, I don’t think—”

But the villain squinted harder at the screen, his focus zeroing in on Kragthar’s frozen, upside-down feed. The pink flames flickered eerily, and the angle made Kragthar look like he was yelling insults at the camera.

“Blast it all, there he is!” Mandrake shouted, pointing a trembling finger at the screen. “That caped crusader finally found me! I won’t be rattled by you, Batman! Not today, not ever!”

“Kragthar,” Hater said through gritted teeth. “That’s Kragthar.”

Mandrake ignored him entirely, his frail body trembling with a mix of fear and righteous indignation. “I’ve faced foes far more terrifying than you, Dark Knight! You think your tricks can work on me? Ha! I was born in the shadows!” His triumphant declaration was promptly interrupted by another coughing fit so intense it nearly knocked his glasses off.

The skeleton buried his skeletal face in his hands. “I can’t do this. I cannot do this.”

Emperor Awesome, who had finally recovered enough to sit upright, was once again losing it. His wheezing laughter echoed through the call, loud and obnoxious. “Yo, Hater! You can’t even handle a retiree! This is priceless!”

Meanwhile, Wander gave a cheerful wave to Mandrake. “Mr. Malfeasant! Long time, no see! Boy, you sure look spry today!”

“Spry?!” The old evil-dooer barked, his ancient voice rattling like a rusty chain. “I’ll show you spry! Just wait ‘til I—” His tirade ended with another near-death coughing fit, this one so violent you wondered if he might actually keel over on camera.

Amid the chaos, Kragthar’s frozen feed remained resolutely upside-down, his expression twisted into eternal indignation. The juxtaposition of his fiery rage and Mandrake’s obliviousness was enough to send Awesome tumbling off his chair again, laughing so hard it sounded like he was choking on his own tongue.

Hater finally snapped. “MANDRAKE, GET OFF THIS CALL BEFORE YOU ACTUALLY DIE ON SCREEN!”

Mandrake hacked out a weak laugh. “Heh, you wish, Hater. This old dog’s got plenty of fight left! And as for you, Batman—” He pointed dramatically at Kragthar’s frozen feed. “You can’t stop me, no matter what tricks you pull!”

The self-proclaimed 'greatest in the galaxy' slammed his fists against his console, his patience teetering on the brink of obliteration. “MANDRAKE, YOU’RE TALKING TO KRAGTHAR, NOT BATMAN! HE DOESN’T EVEN WEAR A CAPE! GET OFF THE CALL BEFORE YOU GIVE ME A MIGRAINE!”

But the other villain just adjusted his glasses with a shaky hand, his face leaning so close to the camera that only his wrinkled green nose filled the screen. “Nice try, Hater. I know when I’m being tricked! Batman’s sneaky, but I’m sneakier! You think you can—” Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the most ear-piercing wheeze yet, a coughing fit so violent it shook his entire screen. His ancient body spasmed as though a ghost were trying to escape him, his hacking loud enough to drown out Awesome’s relentless laughter in the background.

“Somebody get him a glass of water!” Wander exclaimed, clutching his own chest as if he were about to cough in sympathy. “Golly, Mr. Malfeasant, you sound like you swallowed a tumbleweed! You alright?”

Mandrake waved a dismissive hand, his voice rasping like sandpaper on steel. “I’m fine! Fine, I say! Nothing can—cough—nothing can take me down!”

“Kragthar’s flames could,” Awesome quipped, wiping tears from his eyes as he finally dragged himself upright. “Man’s been frozen for half the meeting, and he’s still more intimidating than you, grandpa.”

As if on cue, Kragthar’s screen flickered, momentarily unfreezing to reveal his hulking form glaring upside-down at the camera. The angle made him look like he was mid-roar, his tusks casting wild shadows across his face. Then, just as quickly, the feed froze again, preserving him in all his furious, upside-down glory.

“Oh, Neptune, he’s a masterpiece!” Awesome cackled, slapping his knee. “Hater, you gotta sell tickets to these meetings. I’d pay good money for this kind of comedy.”

“THIS ISN’T COMEDY!” Hater shrieked, his frozen image still stuck in “The Thinker” pose. “I’M SURROUNDED BY IDIOTS!”

Mandrake, oblivious to everything, jabbed a gnarled finger at Kragthar’s frozen screen. “You hear me, Batman? You don’t scare me! Come at me with all you’ve got, you pointy-eared punk!” He let out a hacking laugh, his frail body trembling with misplaced triumph.

The skeleton groaned, dragging his skeletal hands down his face. “Why do I even try? This was supposed to be a simple meeting. A SIMPLE MEETING!”

“And now it’s an absolute hoot!” Wander chirped, grinning ear to ear as he gave you a squeeze. “Ain’t it great, darlin’? All our favorite folks in one place! Even Mr. Kragthar’s lookin’ dapper upside-down like that.”

Kragthar’s perpetually furious expression stared unblinkingly from his frozen feed, his pink flames flickering like angry neon signs. The juxtaposition of his intimidating form and Mandrake’s nonsensical rambling was almost too much.

“Mandrake,” Hater said, his voice eerily calm, like a storm ready to break. “If you don’t leave this meeting in the next five seconds, I will personally—”

But before he could finish, Mandrake’s screen jolted violently, his camera flipping upside-down to match Kragthar’s. The sudden shift sent Mandrake into a frenzy, his glasses sliding down his nose as he scrambled to right himself. “WHAT IN THE VOID IS THIS SORCERY?! HE’S HACKING ME! BATMAN’S HACKING ME!”

Awesome fell out of frame again, his howling laughter echoing like a siren.

You leaned back against Wander, who was practically vibrating with joy. “I gotta admit,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement, “this is the most entertaining villain meeting I’ve ever attended.”

Wander nodded vigorously. “Best. Day. EVER!”

Hater’s scream reverberated through the call, his frozen image glaring like a tortured art piece as he yelled, “THIS IS THE WORST MEETING OF MY LIFE!”

And, of course, Mandrake’s upside-down feed cut back in just long enough for him to cough so hard you thought he might seriously keel over before the meeting could end.

Chaos truly reigned supreme.

So then you cleared your throat, straightened up, and tapped the edge of your lollipop against your teeth in mock seriousness. Chaos erupted in every corner of the meeting call: Mandrake wheezing upside-down, Kragthar frozen mid-insult like a bat-themed statue, and Awesome howling so hard in laughter that he was practically a full-time tumbleweed. But you? You were a professional villain, and it was high time someone acted like it.

“Right,” you said, leaning forward and glaring at Hater’s frozen feed with all the gravity you could muster. “About those dibs on Planet Gronko…”

Wander perked up beside you, his grin widening. “Oh, darlin’, this is the good part! Tell ‘em how you’re gonna take it all sneaky-like!” He rested his chin on your shoulder, his expression equal parts mischievous and supportive. “Y’know, right before I foil it!”

You swatted his head lightly, though the affection was evident. “No foiling. We’re conquering today, not playing sabotage.”

“Aw, sugar, I’m just sayin’,” He cooed, his tone dripping with honeyed sweetness. “Wouldn’t it be more fun if we, oh, I dunno, turned Gronko into a picnic planet instead? Blanket under the stars, some pie… maybe a little banjo music…” His eyes twinkled as he looked at you, like he was proposing the most innocent idea in the universe. “We could even invite Hater! He loves food!”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Hater’s voice blasted through the call, though his image remained resolutely frozen. “You’re NOT turning my dibs into some lame picnic planet!”

You ignored him, keeping your tone measured. “As I was saying, Hater, Planet Gronko is officially mine. No question. It’s got everything: untapped resources, strategic placement, and a prime location for dramatic evil monologues.”

“It’s got terrible parking!” The skeleton barked, clearly desperate to regain some control. “And it smells like sulfur!”

“Sulfur smells like victory,” you deadpanned, twirling your lollipop like a villainous scepter. “And as the superior conqueror, I’m claiming it.”

Wander gasped in mock admiration, his hands clasping together dramatically before he started fawning himself with one of them. “Oh, sugar, I love it when you talk all evil! Makes my heart go pitter-patter!”

“Stop encouraging her!” Hater snarled, though his static-laden voice crackled more than thundered. “You’re supposed to be the good guy, remember?!”

“Oh, I’m good all right,” Wander replied with a wink, leaning further into you. “Good at foiling plans, good at spreading cheer, and good at smoochin’ my girl after a successful thwart.” He gave you a quick peck on the cheek, eliciting a furious groan from the skeleton.

Mandrake’s voice wheezed back into the conversation. “Hold on… hold on…” His upside-down feed trembled violently as he fiddled with his camera. “Did someone say smooches? I’ll have you know, back in my day, I was quite the ladies’—COUGH, COUGH—ladies’ man…”

“Mandrake, NO ONE CARES!” Hater roared, his patience fracturing into microscopic pieces. “CAN WE PLEASE FOCUS?!”

You smirked, watching as the oldest villain in the meeting accidentally flipped his feed sideways, now giving the impression that he was reclining on a chaise lounge. “Look, Hater,” you said, feigning sympathy. “I get it. You want to stake a claim. But let’s be honest—my dibs are non-negotiable.”

“You can’t just—!” He started, but a loud clattering noise interrupted him as Awesome’s chair gave out entirely.

“Oh, sorry, Hater!” Awesome chimed in, clearly not sorry in the slightest. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your frozen face judging Kragthar like a bad art critic.”

The overlord screeched incoherently, his lagging feed stuttering so badly that his voice sounded like a possessed Speak & Spell. Meanwhile, Wander tilted his head, watching you with the expression of a smug cat. “So, uh, honey bun,” he said, his voice dripping with faux innocence. “Just how you gonna conquer Gronko, huh? Big evil speech? Giant death ray? Ooh, I love the classics!”

“I haven’t decided yet,” you replied smoothly. “But don’t get any ideas about ruining it.”

Your fuzzy boyfriend gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Ruin it? Never! Why, I’ll be there right alongside ya! Maybe…” His smile turned impish. “Maybe with a little picnic basket on the side.”

“I hate this meeting,” Hater muttered, his frozen image somehow managing to look more miserable as chaos erupted again.

But then, as if the skeleton's brain started buffering in the middle of the whole situation, still frozen in the same pose of course, his voice broke through the chaos like a badly-tuned holo-radio. “You know what? I’ve had it. I can’t take it anymore!” His green eyes blazed in fury, his tone reaching a level of incredulity that threatened to implode the entire meeting.

“What… WHAT were you even doing with him before the meeting?!”

The room—or rather, the intergalactic hellscape of video feeds—went dead silent for half a second. Even Mandrake paused his upside-down rambling, his gnarled finger hovering mid-point. Awesome gasped audibly, his sharp teeth flashing as his face disappeared from the screen, likely from another fit of laughter. Kragthar, perpetually frozen and upside-down, seemed to silently echo Hater’s confusion with his distorted, roaring grimace.

Wander perked up like a puppy that had just been offered a treat, his wide, innocent grin bright enough to light a black hole. “Oh, you mean before the meeting?” he asked, his tone chipper and completely oblivious to the bomb he was about to drop. “Well, Hatey, you know how it is! Just spendin’ some quality time with my sweetie here, gettin’… acquainted.” He emphasized the word with a waggle of his eyebrows, snuggling closer to you like a cat claiming its territory.

Hater’s jaw unhinged.

“ACQUAINTED?!” His voice cracked, his static-laden screech rattling through the speakers. “What does that even mean?!”

You tried—tried—to suppress the grin tugging at your lips as you twirled the lollipop between your fingers. “Let’s just say, Hater, that Wander and I were… busy.” Your voice was velvety smooth, laced with a subtle mischief that only added fuel to the already raging fire.

“Busy?” The skeleton squawked, his skull practically vibrating from frustration. “What does that mean?! Were you… playing cards? Building a spaceship? WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY BUSY?!”

“Oh, Hatey,” Wander said with a chuckle, resting his head against your shoulder. “It’s like when you cuddle with Captain Tim, but, uh, with a li’l more pizzazz!” His innocent smile and dreamy expression were perfectly at odds with the absolute havoc he was causing.

Hater froze—mentally, this time, not just technologically. “More pizzazz? I DON’T UNDERSTAND!” His hands flailed at the screen, his lightning-bolt horns jiggling wildly. “WHY IS THIS SO CONFUSING?! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”

Mandrake, still upside-down and utterly unhelpful, cleared his throat, sending a raspy wheeze through the feed. “Ah, the mysteries of youth,” he mused, as if he were waxing poetic. “I remember the days when I had pizzazz. And Star-bella that ol' rascal! Why, we once—”

“MANDRAKE, SHUT UP!” Hater screamed, slamming his fists down with enough force to rattle his console. “THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU! THIS IS ABOUT THEM!”

“Aw, Hatey, no need to get all worked up!” The nomad said soothingly, his tone completely oblivious to the fact that it was doing the opposite. “I mean, sure, we had some fun, but now we’re here! With you! Ain’t that great?”

“No! No, it’s NOT GREAT!” Hater’s voice hit a decibel level that made you instinctively wince. His frozen face glared daggers at the screen, as if he could physically reach through and strangle Wander. “Why are you like this?! Why is everything like this?! And WHY do you keep… doing… things?!”

Wander tilted his head thoughtfully, as if the answer were the simplest thing in the galaxy. “Because I love her!” he declared, throwing his arms wide and beaming at you like you were the stars themselves.

Hater’s skeletal hands clenched into trembling fists. “THAT’S IT! MEETING OVER!” His voice cracked like a thunderclap as he jabbed wildly at his console. “I CAN’T TAKE IT! I’M ENDING THIS FOR EVERYONE! EVERYONE!”

Before you could respond, the screen flickered. One by one, every feed blinked out: Kragthar, Mandrake, Awesome (who was wheezing uncontrollably in his seat), and finally, Hater himself.

The room was suddenly quiet, save for the faint hum of your spaceship’s engine. Wander blinked, staring at the now-blank screen. “Huh,” he said thoughtfully, scratching his chin.

...

 “Wonder why he didn’t do that earlier?” He arched one eyebrow.

You couldn’t help it. The laughter bubbled out of you, spilling into the room as Wander joined in, his delighted giggles filling the space. “Because,” you managed between laughs, “this is Hater we’re talking about. Chaos is part of his brand.”

He leaned in, planting a noisy kiss on your cheek. “Golly, I sure do love chaos,” he said with a grin. “Almost as much as I love you!”

You rolled your eyes fondly, tossing your lollipop onto the nightstand. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Wander replied, snuggling against you like a satisfied cat.

And, honestly? He wasn’t wrong.

But the laughter eventually subsided, leaving the room wrapped in a comfortable silence, save for the ambient hum of your ship and the galaxy streaking past your window. Your sweet boyfriend was still nestled against you, his arms looped lazily around your waist, his expression content. His floppy green hat sat proudly on the nightstand next to your discarded lollipop, a quiet testament to the chaos that had unfolded—and the even greater chaos that had preceded it. You ran a hand through his fur, leaning back into the mound of mismatched pillows that took up half the bed. “Well, that was something,” you murmured, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Sure was, sweetie-pie,” He agreed, his voice soft but brimming with delight. He tilted his head up, his eyes glinting with mischief. “But, uh… I was thinkin’...”

“Oh no,” you said immediately, narrowing your eyes. “Every time you ‘think,’ I end up with bruises and hickeys in weird places.”

“That’s part of the fun!” he chirped, sitting up with sudden enthusiasm. His wide grin stretched across his face as he waved his hands excitedly. “Now hear me out, darlin’. I was readin’ this book about star-crane origami, right? And it got me thinkin’ about somethin’ called the ‘Lunar Fold.’ It’s kinda like that thing we tried in the torture room last month, remember?”

Your eyebrows shot up, and you let out a startled laugh. “Oh, you mean the time we accidentally triggered the electric agony rack mid-session and fried half the circuits in the ship?”

“Yup!” Wander said cheerfully, his eyes twinkling. “But don’t you worry, this one’s way safer! I promise there won’t be any accidental zappin’. Probably.”

“‘Probably?’” you repeated, giving him a skeptical look. “That’s not exactly reassuring, Hornball.”

He waved a dismissive hand, scooting closer and resting his chin on your shoulder. “C’mon, darlin’, trust me! I’ve been workin’ out the angles in my head, and I just know the Lunar Fold’s gonna be the bee’s knees. Way better than the ‘Upside-Down Intergalactic Pretzel,’ that’s for sure.”

You stared at him, torn between amusement and exasperation. “You named it that after we nearly dislocated everything.”

“Exactly! Which is why the Lunar Fold’s so much better!” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Less bendy, more… starry. And I’ll be real gentle this time, promise.”

Your lips quirked up in a smirk as you leaned back, meeting his gaze. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“I’m lucky you love me,” he corrected, nuzzling your neck with a grin that was far too sweet for the absolute chaos he always brought to your life. 

With one quick motion, he hopped up onto his knees, his excitement bubbling over. “Alrighty then, sugar! Let’s get to it! The stars won’t see themselves, y’know!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you let him tug you toward the center of the bed. Chaos, mischief, and possibly questionable physics were inevitable—but with Wander, it was always an adventure worth taking.

Meanwhile, somewhere across the galaxy, Kragthar of Kraaathhh was still frozen. Only this time, it wasn’t his video feed. He stood in his villainous lair, his pink flames flickering weakly as his single, furious thought echoed into the empty silence.

“…Where did everyone go?”

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM SHREK THE THIRD *  assorted dialogue from the 2007 film, adjust as necessary

let's just say some things are better left unsaid.

if there's something you want to do, or someone you really want to be, then the only one standing in your way... is you.

well, my stomach's aching and my palms just got sweaty. must be a high school.

it wouldn't be inaccurate to assume that i couldn't exactly not say that it is or isn't almost partially incorrect.

so you do know where he is!

all right people, let's do this thing!

i thought we agreed we'd go by the name "team super cool."

from henceforth, we're all to be known as "team alpha super awesome cool dynamite wolf squadron."

right! assume the position!

what are you doing?

i can't believe i'm going to be a father.

how did this happen?

allow me to explain.

when a man falls in love with a woman, he is overcome with powerful urges...

how can you be a receiver of the wedgies when you are clearly not a wearer of the underpants?

somebody help! i've been kidnapped by a monster who's trying to relate to me!

greetings, cosmic children of the universe. welcome to my serenity circle.

please leave all bad vibes outside the healing vortex.

i knew i should have got that warranty.

i'm sorry, but this isn't working for me.

it's not like your attitude is helping.

let go of your petty complaints and let's work together.

someone had better be dying.

if he were real, could i do this?

that's quite enough, boys!

look out! they got a piano!

you really need to get yourself a pair of pants.

some people just don't understand boundaries.

it's just so hard, you know?

come on, take it easy!

there's a mean person doing mean things to good people.

i'll go and get my things.

we realy need your help.

sorry, i don't do that stuff anymore.

how about a hug? that's the best kind of magic there is.

jealous much?

where's the baby?

you just need to do a little less yelling and use more soap.

the soap is because you stink. really bad.

i will never forget you. you are the love of my life.

that's easy for you to say!

it's not easy to come by honest work when the whole world is against you.

those are some nice leotards though.

do they have those in men's sizes?

all right, don't overdo it.

break a leg. on second thought, let me break it for you.

i haven't had a trip that bad since college.

please don't eat me.

i've always wanted to play the flute.

i'd rather get the black plague and lock myself in an iron maiden than go out with him.

try to be reasonable.

i don't know you, but i'd like to.

can i interest anyone in a snack or beverage?

that information is on a need to know basis.

what do you want, [name]?

i love you too, honey!

you're going to be a father.

from here on out, we're gonna take care of business ourselves.

this isn't a rehearsal.

i know i made many mistakes with you.

won't you please open mine first?

can you please just try to grin and bear it?

i got you the biggest one because i love you the most.

now you'll have plenty time to work on your marriage.

excuse me. old lady coming through.

just stay out of this!

oh, this place is filthy.

everybody stay calm. we're all gonna die!

[thatoneawkwardfanthing]

Finally after a thousand years here's my thoughts on Golden Lilly. Definitely disjointed I listen to the audiobooks at work. Spoilers below obvi!

Sydney is once again a better person than I, I would have told them to let Keith rot in their weird cult prison. Speaking of weird cult, the whole thing with keeping that guy captive is ... Interesting. Shout out Adrian being into Le Mis, couldn't be me tbh. Dimitri being a good man we love to see it. I low-key forgot Angeline and the Keepers existed but she's quite interesting. To be fair, it is her first time in modern society so she's obviously gonna have a hard time adjusting. She's giving cookie monster pajama pants in the best way so far. Jill dating Mason's lookalike has gotta be hell on poor Eddie. Not gonna lie, there's some chemistry between Sydney and Trey, but him trying to set her up is cute too. The guy is in fact perfect for her, if a little boring. Her constant mentions of how pretty Adrian's eyes are is really a mood, he really is pretty. She's gotta get more used to the magic thing tho like, girlie you're working with two spirit user and your history teacher is apparently a witch. Okay no, Braden is like, really annoying. Such an erm actually. He's also boring as shit. The vampire hunters are gonna be interesting and Trey is ABSOLUTELY one of them. Angeline throwing hands at the motivational theater troupe is hilarious I love her so much. The fashion designer chick definitely has ulterior motives too. Adrian being so down bad for Sydney that it bleeds through the bond is such a mood, she is pretty amazing. Like, he bought a classic car he can't even drive just to impress her. He wants that cookie so fucking bad. OH NO BADDIE DOWN SONYA NO. Will these two just kiss already, jesus. I really went from "idk Sydney just gives aroace vibes" to "I want these two to make out sloppy style" in like, half a book. I KNEW IT HE'S ONE OF THEM AND HE WAS THERE!!! At least he feels bad about it bc Sonya is a good person dammit! This whole thing is stressing me out I don't want anything bad to happen to her. The little moment with Adrian before made me scream omg JUST KISS ALREADY I'M DYING. I knew they'd find some way to track her and seeing her start to de-construct her beliefs is so good. Especially since THEY KISSED BAYBEE!!! Glad she and Braden broke up he was a weirdo. Fully on board the Sydrian train now