#me when. me when i. me when the book is good. fuck

[roanniom]

There's Something About You

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, handjob, dirty talk, inexperienced!Eddie

If one thing is for certain, it's that Eddie has no idea how he's found himself here. In the bedroom of a cheerleader honor student goddess who shouldn't even know he exists. Yes, you've smiled at him from a distance in class. From time to time he's caught you giving him a little wave from across the cafeteria. But to be quite honest with himself, Eddie always assumed you were fucking with him. Throw a wink at the school freak and watch him get an embarrassingly unprovoked boner.

Yet here you were. Sitting next to him on your bed - disarmingly pink and covered in soft cushions and frills and all things girly and diametrically opposed to all that is Eddie Munson. Dark and crass and bumbling and weird Eddie Munson.

"If you flunk out of Mr. Flout's class one more time, what's going to happen to you?" you had asked him casually earlier in the day as you'd walked by him staring at his test marked with a big red F. Eddie had looked up at you, shock quickly melting into an indifferent smirk.

"There's always trade school, baby," he'd shrugged and thrown up a peace sign.

That was when you suggested he come by your place that evening for tutoring.

Eddie is no fool. He knows what girls like you want. So he'd made sure to come equipped with his trusty lunch pail full of treats that would take the edge off being Miss Perfect / Daddy's Little Girl / Goody Two Shoes - whatever mantle it was that you wished to pluck off your head and cast gently aside for one blissful night. He assumed maybe a downer, maybe an upper, maybe a combo of both. He didn't know you well enough to assume. You seemed happy enough when skipping down the halls with your gaggle of friends, but maybe there was a secret side of you that wanted to disappear. You seemed focused when you were working on papers or quizzes in your shared classes with Eddie, but maybe you needed something that would give you that much more of an edge. Something to help you lock in.

Or maybe you just wanted to be able to turn your brain off for a bit. Eddie knew what that was like.

Sitting in your room now, however, Eddie was less sure. You hadn't closed the door behind him and immediately asked to check out the merchandise. You hadn't proffered up cash in an attempt to speed along a transaction. Instead you'd sat him down with a textbook and a notepad and actually started studying. It was weird. Eddie wasn't used to this kind of drug dealer foreplay. He assumed you were just nervous, though, so after a while, he decided he would have to be the one to make the first move.

"What's your poison, princess?" he asks, after a few moments of silence has settled between the two of you. You look up from your own book and furrow your brow. When you don't speak, Eddie continues. "Upon which journey of medicated oblivion do you wish to depart?"

That doesn't seem to make it any clearer for you.

"Huh?" you ask. The way your nose wrinkles in your confusion is kind of cute, but Eddie does his best to ignore it.

"Drugs. What drugs did you ask me here to sell you?" He speaks plainly because apparently you aren't ready for euphemism. Wow, you must be really new to this space.

Surprise ripples across your face, followed by immediate amusement.

"I didn't ask you here for any drugs. But you're welcome to partake if you like, of course." You gesture to his pail, proving you had known what was inside all along. Eddie shakes his head.

"I don't sample the goods, sweetie. I just sell 'em."

You snort in response, a decidedly unladylike reaction.

"You and I both know that's bullshit, Munson. I've seen you in class. Nine times out of ten you're high as a kite."

Eddie smirks and runs a sheepish hand through his hair. Oh you'd seen him, huh? You were looking?

"Guilty as charged. Then what did you ask me here for?"

"To study," you answer simply. The look on your face, however, implies that isn't all there is to it.

"And...?" Eddie presses. Your smile grows wider and you close your book. You shift on the bed beside him in a way that shifts your skirt, baring your thigh. Eddie's eyes go straight to that exposed swath of skin, right on cue.

"And...if we fool around a bit, that's a nice bonus." You say it as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. Obviously that's an additional thing that would happen on a study night like this. As obvious as a round of flash cards or a homemaker mother coming in with a tray of cookies and juice.

Which reminds him...

"Aren't your parents around?" Eddie asks. He adds a lilt of humor to his voice, though he means the question seriously.

"They're in Indianapolis for the night. I'm here all by my lonesome," you say with a faux coquettishness that causes an ache to begin forming in his throat. "You're here to keep me company."

All of a sudden the closed door to your room emanates with a kind of vibrating anticipation. A rushing begins in Eddie's ears, followed by a high pitched ring. Is he going to pass out?

You take the book from his lap and place it on the floor.

"So what's your poison, Eddie Munson?" you ask.

This is it. Eddie is actually short circuiting. He swallows but the sound resonates as a cartoon gulp.

"We don't have to...that's...we don't need..."

You place a hand on his shoulder and it just about burns through the fabric of his shirt.

"I know we don't need to do anything. What do you want?"

Eddie hesitates, but you read it as him not wanting to push, so you take matters into your own hands. Literally.

'Wait, what are you - oh fuck." Eddie's eyes blow wide as you sink to the floor in front of him, kneeling between his legs with one hand on his thigh and one hand on his crotch.

"I'm narrowing down the options for you, Munson," you say with a grin. "Helping you make a decision. I know it was hard to decide what you wanted. Really hard, it seems." You put more emphasis on your innuendo as you begin to stroke him through his jeans. You're right. He's hard. Just from this fucking teasing conversation he is hard as a rock. His cheeks and ears burn with humiliation. 

“That’s…fucking…”

“Well I wouldn’t say it’s fucking. But maybe a version of it,” you chuckle. Before he even understands what’s happening, you’re unbuttoning his jeans and lowering the zipper. If he hadn’t been wearing relatively constrictive boxer briefs he knows he would have all but sprung out the moment you freed him from the denim. You cup him through the fabric of his underwear and slide your hand up and down. “Now what have you been hiding from me, hm?”

Eddie can’t speak. He truly can’t form words. This can’t be happening right now. The amount of times he’d fucked his fist to the thought of you…this was absolutely absurd. He must have smoked too much weed and slipped into a catatonic state, trapped in his own erotic fantasies because what the actual fuck. 

Eddie’s continued lack of response does start to unnerve you, though. You slow your hand on his clothed cock and look up at him, trying to keep humor in your voice. 

“What’s going on? You’re acting like you’ve never had a girl on her knees before.”

“Um…”

“Stop messing with me,” you snort. But when Eddie continues frowning, you drop your hand from his lap. “You mean to tell me…”

“You can get up for this conversation,” Eddie says quietly, reaching out a hand. He doesn’t like the juxtaposition of the power dynamics. You on your knees in front of him. A situation that should objectively make him feel powerful, and yet all he feels right now is small. You take his proffered hand and allow him to pull you up to your feet. When you take a silent seat beside him on the bed, Eddie knows he’s going to have to explain. 

“So…yeah. I’ve never ‘had a girl on her knees’ before.” You nod understandingly, but Eddie knows you can’t possibly fully understand yet. “I’ve never ‘had’ a girl…period.”

A beat passes.

Another beat. 

Eddie had been staring down at the leather bracelets encircling his wrists, fiddling with the frayed edges. But at the continued silence he looks up to find you watching him, eyes wide with comprehension. 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize, I wouldn’t have pressured you -,”

“No!” Eddie says a little too emphatically, making you jump. He grabs your hands to keep you next to him. “You didn’t pressure me at all. I want…this. I want…you. I just…”

“You just…?” you prompt, dipping your head down to force him to meet your eye despite his dropped chin. 

“I just don’t know what I’m fucking doing here, babe,” Eddie forces out with a humorless chuckle. You bite your lip to keep from laughing along. 

This is uncharted territory for you. Yes you’re experienced, but you’d really only ever been with guys who had way more experience than you. It was kind of where your forced confidence and teasing personality came from - a little bit of a fake it till you make it mentality. It usually kept guys from bowling you over or taking too much if they got the sense that you knew what you were doing. That you knew what you wanted. 

This is a completely different situation. You look at the shaggy-haired metal head in front of you and your heart throbs. Before this evening you’d seen him as a fun little roll in the hay. A cheeky little ‘fuck you’ to your overbearing parents and to the pristine nature of your wholesome image. Eddie was brazen at school. A loud-mouthed, swaggering, innuendo-spewing class clown with a guitar and a million things to say. You’d thought he’d be a decent ride, if nothing else. But now you see him, uncertain and shrinking into your bed, and you realize that you don’t know him at all. And based on the way he’s looking at you with fear and shame, he clearly doesn’t know you either. 

“That doesn’t matter to me, you know. Especially since I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, that I can tell, sweetheart.” Eddie’s laugh is genuine this time. He adjusts himself at the crotch, an action that calls your attention to the bulge still protruding in his boxers through his open jeans. He’s still hard. In spite of all the embarrassment and discomfort. Eddie Munson must really want you. 

Well good. Because you’ve decided that in spite of everything, you really want Eddie Munson.

When you reach down and push aside his hand, Eddie recoils only for a second. Your hand closes around his cock and he melts into the touch. 

“Jesusfuckingchrist,” he exhales. 

“That feel good?” you ask. 

“That better be rhetorical. Because this feels better than anything I’ve ever felt in the goddamn world.”

“That’s an exaggeration, Eddie,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

“No, it reeeeally fucking isn’t.”

“Well then you’re gonna explode when I do this.” Before Eddie can even realize what’s happening, you’ve peeled down his underwear, exposing his cock to the cool air of your bedroom. Your hand wraps around his length, feeling the velvety skin over his throbbing hardness and Eddie all but yelps. 

“Holy FUCK.”

“Yeah?”

“Ok now that is better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

You lick your hand and bring it back down to glide more easily along his shaft. You watch Eddie shudder.

“You do realize it will only escalate from here. You can’t keep saying that.” 

Eddie grips at the denim on his own thigh and grits his teeth. Your hand has begun to pick up speed. 

“Little newsflash for you, babe. I’m not exactly in control of the words coming out of my - GAH.” 

You smooth your thumb over the mushroom head of his cock, pleased by the wetness gathering at the tip. 

“You touch yourself, don’t you Munson? This can’t be so revolutionary.” You’re teasing him but you love how responsive he is. Love the way he looks at you like you’re made of shining gold. 

“My hands don’t feel anything like this and you know it.”

You lift one of his hands with your free hand and smooth your fingers over his skin. 

“Yeah. These calluses from guitar?” 

He can’t believe you’re speaking so casually while still continuing to jerk him off into oblivion. He’s the one being stimulated, sure, but how can you remain unphased when it feels like all of the heat in the universe is being concentrated in this room right now. Surely he can’t be the only one whose every molecule is on fire. 

When Eddie doesn’t respond to your callus question, you decide to take escalation into your own hands. Or rather…Eddie’s. 

When you place his hand on your breast, it has the exact effect you think it will have. Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and his jaw drops to the floor. 

“Uhhh….” 

Dumbstruck. 

You decide that’s how you like him. 

“You gonna just sit there?” you ask playfully, dropping your hand and marveling at the fact that Eddie’s remains light and motionless when you left it. 

“What…can…how…?”

“Play with them,” you reply with a little shrug. When Eddie hesitates, you nudge him to move back up the bed. Once his back is up against your pillows, you straddle his thighs - just before his knees - and immediately get back to work on his cock. 

This time Eddie reaches for both of your breasts, and this time his grip is a little more firm. He begins to squeeze and release. When he finally gets adventurous enough to lightly twist your nipple through the fabric of your top and your unpadded bra you reward him with a moan. 

“So that…felt good?” Eddie asks hopefully. 

“You watch porn, Eddie. What do you think?” 

“I think I want to take these puppies out, let them breathe.” Eddie looks up at you with the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen, clearly finally feeling more comfortable. 

“Ah, there’s the little shit I know and love,” you laugh. Your words send a zing through Eddie’s bloodstream but he suppresses it. There are more pressing matters at hand. Like the way your blouse simply falls away after he unbuttons it. And the way your breasts sit up in your bra - plump and ready for him to have his way with them. 

And so he does. 

When Eddie’s hands engulf your breast this time, their grip is definitive. You inhale sharply with the strength of his squeeze. Finally some stimulation. 

“It does feel good,” Eddie smirks. Your pleasure must be clear on your face. 

“Don’t get cocky,” you try to admonish him. It’s time to up the ante, so you wrap one hand around the base of his cock and begin moving your other hand faster up and down. 

“Holy shit.”

“There we go,” you say, satisfied. You’ve enjoyed being in control. This is such a rare luxury for you and you’ve decided you like it. The wet warmth blooming between your thighs definitely indicates that. 

“Hey…slow down…”

“Too much?” you ask, immediately slowing your motions, worried you’d pushed him too far. Eddie’s hands grip your breasts, almost as if to ground himself. 

“No it’s fucking amazing I’m just…I’m gonna cum - oh!” 

You immediately pick up the pace right back to what it had been a second ago. 

“That’s the idea, handsome.”

Eddie is lost in a flurry of sensation. Nobody has ever called him handsome before. But nobody has ever jerked him off before either, so maybe that’s not the most pressing thing for him to ruminate on. There you sit straddling his thighs with your hands moving on his cock, your breasts bouncing in his hands. He feels like he’s going to pass out if you don’t stop immediately. 

“Take off your shirt.”

“Huh?” Eddie asks, squinting up at you. Your words make no sense in the haze of his pleasure. 

“Take off your shirt,” you repeat, relatively urgently. He does as he’s told, ripping his shirt off by the back of the collar. When the fabric pulls up and over his face, he is greeted by the sight of you now without your bra. 

“Holy fucking shit.” 

You spit in your palm and begin stroking him again in earnest. With both of your hands focused on his length, your arms push your breasts together. Eddie moans on the verge of agony. 

“I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“This your first set of tits, Munson?” you ask, amused. This language is much more crass than you’d usually use, but there is something about Eddie - his lack of experience or maybe his unabashed enjoyment - that makes you feel comfortable speaking this way. 

“The first set that I can actually physically touch, yeah,” Eddie replies with full honesty and roguish smile. He surprises you by getting a big handful and pushing them together. His thumbs play with your exposed nipples and your hips begin to move against him. 

“You’re so turned on right now, aren’t you,” Eddie says through gritted teeth. His eyes squeeze shut against the divine pleasure of knowing that you’re rocking against him just as much as he’s rocking into your hands. 

It’s a glimmer of the dirty talk you might eventually be able to get from him. You like it. Like the teasing quality and the way it matches up to the way you’ve been addressing him. It does things to you and you know it would balloon his ego to know that you’re soaking through your panties right now. 

So you say the one thing that you know will throw him over the edge. 

“I want you, Eddie Munson. I want you inside of me.” 

The sputtering of words catching in his throat matches the way his hips stutter, cum spurting up and over your fists. It splashes hot and wet against his abdomen, which you had thankfully had the foresight to make him bare. Eddie lets out a guttural, shuddering groan. 

“Are you…fuck…jesus…are you fucking kidding me?” His hands fly off your breasts to cover his face. “God DAMN it.” 

Surprised by the sudden tone switch, you lift your wet hands from his leaking cock. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s….that was…I didn’t get to…” Eddie sounds confused and frustrated and breathless all at once. When he drops his hands from his face he looks up at you with a crumpled expression. “What about you?”

You have to bite your cheek to keep in the laugh that you know would hurt his feelings. 

“You just had your first handjob and you’re worried about me?” 

Eddie furrows his brow. 

“Well yeah. I want you to cum.” 

You shrug and gently dismount him. Reaching for your bedside table you grab a couple tissues, one which you hand over to Eddie. 

“That’s a hit or miss kind of thing, so don’t even worry about it.” 

Eddie wipes gingerly at the cum on his stomach and around the base of his flagging cock. 

“You mean…you don’t always cum?”

“Not always. But that’s normal.” You glide around your room, picking up your discarded clothes and dropping them neatly in your laundry basket. You open the top drawer of your dresser and pull out a gauzy white nightgown that, when pulled on, floats just to the upper middle of your thighs. You drop your skirt off your hips, leaving you in just a pair of panties beneath the delicate fabric. 

Eddie watches from his seat on your bed, still bedraggled from your shared sex act, shirtless with his jeans and boxers pulled down and his member now resting on his belly. It twitches with interest, however, at the sight of your nipples peaked through your nightgown. 

“I…I’d like to help you with that.”

Your face, and heart, soften at the earnestness in his voice. This poor, sweet, inexperienced weirdo in your bed wants to help you cum. Something that countless jocks and hot guys never even gave a passing thought to. Eddie stumbles to his feet and pulls up his boxer briefs and jeans. 

You climb back onto your bed into the space he’s now vacated. 

“Yeah? You want to help me cum, Munson?” You tease him as you lay against the pillows, one hand on your breast while you plant one foot on the mattress to bring your knee up. Your nightgown just barely covers your center, meaning Eddie can see a small swatch of your panties. Light pink. He feels his jeans tighten immediately. 

“I do.” He’s eager. It’s adorable. Eddie places a knee on the edge of your bed, mesmerized by the way your hands move over your body. 

“We’ll get to that,” you say quietly. Your voice breathy and inviting. 

“We will?” 

“Want to know the first step?” you ask. Eddie nods emphatically, eyes still trained on your hands, one of which has migrated to the apex of your thighs. 

“You’re gonna go home -,” You’re interrupted by a disagreeable harumph from Eddie. You smile. “You’re gonna go home and I’m going to touch myself to the thought of your cock.”

You can physically see the way the wind is knocked out of him. 

“Okay?” you prompt when he doesn’t reply. Eddie shifts restlessly. 

“Or I could help you now.” 

“No,” you disagree firmly. “We’ll build up to that.”

Eddie frowns. You know he’s disappointed, but you can feel your heart rate increase as you swirl your fingertip over your clit through your panties. Orgasms are hard for you to come by - pun intended - so you felt the urge to chase this one without additional variables. 

“Next time,” you add, hoping Eddie can see the promise in your face. He watches you silently for another moment, committing the image of you laid out and touching yourself to memory, before he nods and takes his knee off the bed. 

“Next time.” 

When Eddie leaves a few minutes later, the sound of his noisy van shuddering to life and peeling out beyond your window, you finally indulge yourself in the feeling you’ve been waiting for all night. 

You enjoy sex, sure. It wasn’t something that you had given much thought to. You’re pretty in a small town. You’re a cheerleader. It came with the territory that you were an object of lust and desire. Other young men enjoyed getting you naked and emptying themselves of their pent up hormonal tension. You found pleasure in the weight of their bodies and the knowledge that you were wanted. But there had never been much more to it than that. They rarely focused on pleasuring you beyond a tepid rub at the general vicinity of your clit. Their cocks sometimes rubbed a long neglected place deep inside of you, but the friction was always short lived. The occasional orgasm was always welcome but always fleeting. Even in the privacy of your own bed you found that they were often more work than they were worth. 

But tonight, you’d had a different experience. The man was beneath you, not on top of you. You had helped him reach a peak he’d never known before. And he’d looked at you like you were a goddess. 

When your fingers delve deep inside of you, you’re barely able to reach the place that aches with the promise of deeper pleasure. But for once, you have the feeling that somebody might be able to get you there.

When you cum from vigorously pressing on your clit, you cum with the vision of Eddie Munson in your mind’s eye. 

Next time, you think as you ascend. Next time. 

~*~ 

-

--

---

I really hope you enjoyed this. PLEASE tell me if you did and what you liked about it. I want to see if it is worth doing a part 2 <3

[nkogneatho]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 ✦ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

—characters: oliver, shidou, sae.

—cw: fem!reader, fingering, pearl necklace, overstimulation, finger sucking, not proofread.

—a/n: i need lobotomy. you do too if you're reading this shit.

𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

oliver's hands are thick and has arms full of veins. he is not exactly a workout freak but he does fair amount of sets during practice resulting in his amazing physique. his fingers are girthy and he has amazing control over them.

oliver likes to spend his time with his fingers up your pussy, stretching your hole with his thick digits. he loves the feeling of your wetness dripping down his knuckles as he pumps them inside you.

"nasty little pussy. always so greedy, right, babe?" he whispers against your ears. "gimme one more and i promise i'll put my cock in then." you know he's lying. you've already came thrice and he's been repeating the same damn thing but won't stop fingering you. you can feel his erection poking your lower back, your pussy fluttering and craving more. too bad. aiku will only pull his fingers out when he wants to and not when you want to.

"oli...ngh—gunna cum," you mewl as your body tightens.

"let go, baby. 'm right here. cum on my fingers, yeah?" and you do, legs shivering as they close up, trapping his arms in place. when you calm down. aiku gives you peck on your head and you finally think he's gonna put it in. finally. "let's see if you can take four fingers." fucking hell.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈

shidou's hands are very veiny even when he is not flexing his muscles. but i doubt this man is ever relaxed because he is on adrenaline 24x7. his skin is glowing with melanin so each nerve is visible. he works out a lot. well his workout is divided in two sections. gym and good old sex.

ryu's favorite thing to do with his hands are massage your tits. massage would be and understatement 'cause this man is full on groping, pinching and abusing them. your poor nipples are always sore when he is done with you. don't get me wrong. he loves to suck on them too. but something about fondling them while thrusting in you gets him off so much. even more lovely when he spits on them and smears them with his thumb.

"got such a sexy set on ya, babe. fhuuuck. gonna make me shoot a load just with this. ya won' mind if i slap them yeah?"

*slap*

you hiss at the sensation. "shit. did my pretty pussy just clenched? fucking hell. ah! my balls are tightening," he moans. you think he's gonna cum inside you but shidou pulls out faster than a lightning, his veiny hands tightening and stroking his cock as he aims for your tits. and just in a second, he is shooting thick translucent ropes all over them. he takes his palm and spread his cum all over your tits. "fuck. jus' like a glazed donut." he takes a lick. "best fucking donut ever."

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

given sae's slender yet washboard ab physique, his hands are long. not full of veins but his knuckles are very visible and it's so hot. his veins show when he is working out, pissed or...horny. sae didn't know he had attractive hands and he was dating a person who has a hand kink. what he did know was you loved to always suckle on his thumb when his palm rests on your jaw while dry humping you. so sae tries to push it further this time.

you're sitting and reading a book on the couch before sae's shadow towers over you. you shoot your head up, looking at him with confused eyes. he scans your face for a minute before speaking.

"open," he commands. you're not sure at first what he means but the way his green eyes are fixated on your mouth, your jaw instinctively follows his command like a servant. before you can grasp the situation, sae's middle and ring finger are already in your mouth. he let's you suckle on them for a few seconds and he's quick to start thrusting them. he might have just discovered that you have a hand kink is pretty convenient for him too 'cause the boner he popped might be the fastest ever.

"i am fucked," is all he says before thrusting his digits deeper, his other hand palming his cock through his gray sweats. his biceps buldge out and his veins pop when he fists his dick so you deliver the most appropriate reaction. a moan and a whimper that vibrate around his fingers sending shivers in his body. he's right. he is fucked. and so are you.

[stories-of-a-dirty-oldman]

My daughter Angie always had her BFF staying over night and the weekends. The parade of slutty young ladies, those nights I made sure I would fuck my wife her step mom even harder. My ex was very vocal and tried to muffle her moans and screams, I just imagined me fucking there tight little cunts.

We lived in an older house, and the doors never closed very good and I did make sure there was always a small gap for those special girls. My daughter did have some sleeping issues, and would take a sleeping aid to help her.

Some were vert adventures and would peek in during my play session. Some would run away when I looked there way. Some were extra special and would watch and finger there needy little selves as I fucked my ex.

When my daughter turned 18, I divorced my ex my daughter stayed and went to collage. That's when some of her special friends would get more bold.

Veronica (Vicky) would come in to my bedroom dressed in her tight little clothes asking if she could read one of my book collection. One night Vicky came in asking if she could read a book, as Angie fell asleep and she wasn't ready. She went to my book collection dressed in a cute little silk outfit. She got a book laid across the bed asking if this one was okay? I looked it was Lolita, I smiled she looked back she had a frightened look with please take me. I said you sure little one, she cleared her throat. I've been with a few guys, and I you have seen me watching you and have always wanted someone to fuck me the way you fuck.

That night we made love till the sun came up, she was amazing and the more she came the more she wanted to try other things.

She's now in her 40's, married with children and she still comes around when I visit my daughter and grand babies and now our fuck sessions are pure passion. She's into impact, anal and bondage all things her husband won't try with her.

Me next plsplspls

[bunny-jpeg]

drive-away phone call

lewis hamilton

request: 107 + 7 with Lewis Hamilton as a rival. Reader took his phone and ran/drove off. Boomshakala yes gawd 107. “your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.” + 7. “you want me to give you your book/phone/item back? make me.”

tags: smut/pwp, rivals au, driver!reader, brattiness, spanking, teasing, dirty talk, cough sex & doggy style, hate sex, unprotected sex, pull out method

eros (the valentine's day collection)

ferrari were idiots. they wanted a king and a queen for their team. champions to secure them wins. hefty contracts were signed by you and lewis hamilton.

plucked from mclaren and mercedes, shedding the orange and the black then fitted in the fiery reds. it was a bright idea to the team. celebration was in order when the two of you happily signed the contracts. the issue was you and lewis had been bitter rivals for close to seven years.

the famous rumor was that mercedes retracted their contract they had for you because you and lewis verbally chewed each other out behind their headquarters when you were both there at the same time. you and lewis butted heads.

and very few things smoothed over with time in the world of f1.

lewis had been looking for his phone all morning, after first day of the pre-season testing he had been looking for it. he even went to mercedes side of the track to see if it grew legs and walked over there.

but of course, you had seen it.

"looking for this hamilton?" your voice was like a siren's song and when he looked over he saw you standing there in your team kit with one hand on your hip and the other dangling his phone like a toy, "you have to be careful with this, if someone managed to figure out the password. you'd be in a world of trouble."

he sharply exhaled and said, "and who would be able to guess the password." his attempt hold some confidence.

you made a smug face and said, "zero-six, forty-four...surprised you put nico's number first." and grew into a bright grin when the realization dawned on lewis, "don't worry, teammates are meant to keep secrets. but, if you want me to give you your phone back? make me." and then like a rabbit you sped off before lewis could process what you said.

and soon he was chasing after you.

laughter through the back hallways, it was teasing and embarrassing. but lewis had to admit, it turned him on. this brat of a driver who had been under his skin for nearly ten years! you both pushed and pulled each other.

when lewis finally caught you, he slammed you up against the door. the phone tumbled from your hand and onto the carpeted floor. he leaned in close, his dark eyes on yours. there was a fire in your gaze as you held onto his wrist while his fingers held your throat.

"you're a pain in my fucking side." he said.

"oh yeah, and you're saint lewis, patron saint of victory. you stole my twenty-nineteen victory." you said lowly.

"you're still holding onto that." he leaned in, "you said to not go easy on you. you didn't want weakness." he lips were dangerously close to yours, "you can't say one thing and want another. you wanted aggressive, i gave you aggressive."

you swallowed, he felt the muscles of your neck under his palm. you tried to hold your own as you said, "i was happy when verstappen whipped your ass the year after."

lewis chuckled and said, "maybe. but, your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.” and pulled you in for a tight kiss. seven years of back and forth crashed into each other. and the two of you were making out in a back hallway.

the kisses grew hotter and eventually you both tumbled into the room behind you. little time for much of anything, other than the door could lock. sneakers kicked off, lewis' expensive shirt was toss over the to the far corner of the room. the lights onto turned on because it was motion activated.

your hands roamed his chest, "hate to admit it, you look good with tattoos." you looked into his dark eyes, "congrats, i gave you a compliment."

he chuckled and his hand went to your ass for a moment. he gave it a squeeze, "i guess their fitting, just like my handprints on your ass." then went in for another heated kiss.

clothes shed and once your ass was bare, lewis slapped the skin. he pushed you over the couch, your breasts hit the back of it as you tumbled over it.

"hey!" you chirped, then moaned when lewis laid another slap across the soft skin.

he watched it bounce and chuckled, "i said i was going to leave it red. shouldn't have taken my phone. should have stopped acting like a brat. this all could've been solved easily, if i knew that deep down you just wanted me." he got up on the couch behind you and laid more slaps.

"i don't want you."

"your soaked pussy tells me something else." he rubbed his hard cock up against your slit, "you hate that you'll never be as good as me." his voice hot in your ear, "and that's alright, you look better under me anyway." his words pulled something in you and you arched your back a little bit. your behind grew bruised and hot with his attention. and when he sank into your pussy, you bit back any noises.

but lewis knew, he had a feeling for years now that this was some game of chicken. see who could edge the other off the track followed by who could break under the sexual tension between you two. a hand on your hip as he got himself inside of you. he swore under his breath.

he should have done this years ago.

the two of you fucked, it wasn't passionate love making like in the movies. it was hot and both of you had to fight off the urge to be too loud. last thing you wanted was to start of the season in a flurry of speculation and rumors.

you told yourself this would be a one time deal, but you had little faith in that notion. you were going to be in each other's space more often, not separated by team divides. you were both ferrari now, and your passion would be as red hot as the colour of your uniform.

lewis laid more slaps across you ass, it made you tense up around his cock which only fueled him to do it more. it was erotic, hot in a way that made left a fire in his core. he moved against you. he could feel the heat under his touch. everything felt like an inferno. like a wildfire that had been gaining momentum over a long period of time. he'd call it a slow burn, but it was more like a bomb with a long fuse.

"fuck you, hamilton." you groaned as you held onto the back of the couch tightly. you bit your tongue to keep from being too loud. you feared that you'd draw blood.

"already am. already am." he said, his tone a little softer, "now that i've got you all figured out, there's no need for such harsh words. you want me. and you're in luck, because i want you." the couch inched a little across the carpeted floor from the sheer force that he was fucking you with.

if anyone tried to get the door unlocked, it would be game over. your panties were off in some corner and neither of you had any intentions of slowing down the feverish sex until you both felt satisfied.

"you feel good." he said, "look good too."

"no need to soften me up, hamilton. you're already inside of me." you whined as the movements quickened, the pleasure continued to mount between the both of you. it was heavy, it was erotic. it was nasty.

two bitter rivals. either you were wheel to wheel or at each other's throat. every victory over the other was a tally mark added to a long list of grievances. lewis kissed the back of your neck, his hands groped at your breasts.

"are you sorry yet?"

"sorry?"

"yeah, for all the trouble you caused me. seven years is a long time." his pace quickened and it made you see stars. you let out a small gasp from the momentum of his movements.

you looked over your shoulder at him and spat, "in your dreams, hamilton." before you cheek was shoved into the back of the couch.

lewis chuckled, "maybe it'll come true when i win my eighth championship." you cursed under your breath, but lewis couldn't make out what you said. regardless he continued to fuck you.

you knew you wouldn't last much longer, you were moaning a little louder. the pleasure was a heated mess in your core. your back arched and you let out a sweet moan. your tone was a little louder than you hoped.

"fuck." he groaned.

you whined, "that's it, that's fucking it." your cunt clenched around his cock as you climaxed. you felt the heat across your skin as the two of you continued to move together. you hated that the sex between you two are magnetic and it left your mind numb from the intensity.

"you feel good. i think we're going to have a pretty good season. we should've done this years ago." he kissed at the side of your neck, "should've stole my phone sooner."

you moaned and felt the flutter in your chest. lewis continued his thrusts, his pace was punishing before he pulled out and finished across your back. you whine from the feeling of hot cum across your back.

"not taking any risks." he said, "can't have you retiring on me yet." he chuckled. the heat in the air was heavy and the smell of sex was noticeable.

you collected your thoughts and said with exhaustion in your tone, "going to help me clean up, hamilton. or stare at it until it dries?"

lewis could only laugh.

-

the next afternoon, you sat on top of some tires because sitting in a chair wasn't helping at that moment. pain still radiated from your back.

you noticed your older teammate walk by. there was a slight prep in lando's step as he approached you. he was whistling casually, which meant horrible news.

you sighed, "what do you want?" when he got close enough. he leaned against the stack of tires you were seated on. he leaned in close and beamed at you.

"heard someone is finally getting along their teammate."

your eyes went wide. you fake coughed into your hand and tried to play it off, "what the fuck, no! hate lewis' guts, it probably was max and charles, or you and carlos for all i know." you tried to point it back to him.

"aw c'mon, don't play stupid. the whole track heard you two." <3

[vatelixx]

Ton 618,

S3-S4ish Spencer Reid x Reader (no mention of gender).

Fluff (no angst… surprisingly). Autistic Spencer (present in all of my one shots bcos it’s canon to me).

──── domesticated time inbetween cases & blind adoration.

Warnings: literally none (who am i???), brief mention of past trauma (Hankel).

w.c: 1.5k

— They’re both nerds who are a little too invested in space. Light biblical imagery & Greek mythology references. My writing has been sufficiently domesticated (dw i’ll be back to angst soon, war is not over.)

Loosely inspired by:

a/n: just giving him what he deserved to have.

────────────

For the first time, in a long time, there is little residing in Spencer’s mind. Beyond warm hands, and soft skin, and the pulse of someone else’s body. Obsessed is one word for it, a textbook definition that can’t truly articulate the ache he derives from the thought of you. Obsessed, fatefully ruined, if this is the work of divine intervention, then consider him, once obstinate in his atheism, entirely, profusely devout.

He’s still thinking about you. What’s new? The memory of your lips pressed against his, the tattooed promise of more, more because it will never be enough. He wants, god when has he ever wanted? Life before appears bleak now, black and white. Academia, pursuits of knowledge, lonely nights and the transient fear of forever being stuck in a cyclical cycle of loneliness.

You think he’s pretty. He smiles on the way home from work, Morgan pressing him, because ‘kid you can’t be that happy for no reason.’ There is a reason, a monumental, life-altering one that waits for him at the door. He likes that, the domesticity. He’s never asked for much, content in his mishaps of intimacy, always baring the weight because he wants needs to be good. For the people around him, for the home he’s carved into his skin, for anything that starves off the decades of isolation.

When he threads his arms around your waist, leaning all of his weight into the contact, you both go stumbling back.

He’s soft. Of course he’s endured more than anyone should, the sharp edge of addiction, the stifling weight of a morbid job that has him fixated, hook line and sinker, compass pointing South every time he’s thrown into the field. But for all of that, he still obtains naive, blinding light.

He burns. Or more so, he warms.

“Hi, hi. Sorry— that wasn’t very eloquent. Can I try again?” He’s halfway out of the door; you have to lean forward, grip his wrist, tug him closer, “Okay.” He laughs, “I’ll take that as a no?”

He’s certain your name is imprinted onto his heart. Carved just for you alone. There is no one else. There could never be anyone else.

That night he falls asleep on your shoulder. Hands interlocked, body splayed out across stressed leather, abandoning his book for the soft drab of safety. There’s a tangled wire of headphones draped between you, knotted further when you pull him, half conscious to bed. He follows mindlessly.

You spend his allocated time off as recluses, abandoning civilisation. No sunlight, his apartment is permanently drenched in molten light. Scattered lamps, balancing off stacked books and messy surfaces. Every morning he’ll wake you with butterfly kisses and the promise of a breakfast he will consistently burn. He’s content, over the moon, to forget the world around him. For it to just be, just the two of you.

Today, as usual, you eat his charred attempt at food. He’s trying, he’s definitely trying, even if the end result is… a health risk. Still, you eat it regardless, without complaint, you eat it.. and then he’s just… kissing you senseless in the middle of his kitchen. Cold tiled floor, and mismatched socks. Fuck, he loves you, he’s never loved someone the way he loves you.

“I’ve been dreaming about falling into black holes recently,” he says when you cradle his face. Pretty features besotted with the sight of you. “Weird. Kinda cool. Please don’t eat anymore of my food.”

“No promises,” you grin, and he has the audacity to pout.

Because that’s not fair, burnt food can cause carcinogens to form, to obstruct digestion and metabolism. “My cooking is going to kill you. Your death will be on my hands. The grief will be immeasurable. I’ll become a hermit, never leave my apartment again. Don’t do that to me.” hands wrapped around your wrists, he preserves the contact. “Please don’t do that to me.”

“Well only because you said please—“

He sighs, audibly, ”You just died, you’re dead, and the only thing you can focus on is a word. A word I very generously repeat, at any given moment.” — he’s polite, he will use his manners, and he will unceremoniously echo please please please to obtain even a fraction of you.

He’s senseless. Too far gone.

You take his hand, press it against your heart. “Still alive. I think?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “For now.”

“You’re dramatic—“

He cuts you off, “Did you know one of the largest black holes ever recorded is 66 billion times the mass of the sun? Ton 618.” Pausing to kiss you (a vital necessity), his hands play aimlessly with your hair, strands sliding through the crevices of his fingers. “Imagine falling into that—“ kiss, “You would die obviously,” kiss, “But it would be a pretty cool death.” Kiss. 

Time dilation, worm holes, cosmic demise, you. Sigh— you.

“It would take over 10 billion years for its light to reach earth.” you say, and yeah. Okay. Just casually recite facts to him. That’s okay. He won’t melt, because he’s a rational, dignified, highly-cerebral adult.

Lie. You always know when to talk, sometimes, sometimes, he gets so lost in thought-loops and spirals of intellectual confusion that you have to draw him back to the present. He disintegrates. Every. Single. Time. One intelligent word and the threads of him are woven tightly around your finger.

”You’re stealing my job. And—and you’re doing it better than me. I’m taking a vow of silence. No more words. I’m becoming a monk. Except, maybe without the celibacy?”

“Whore—“

“For you? Always.” he says, knocking his shoulder into yours, “You’re missing the important aspect to this. Don’t discard my threat.”

“Spence, if you ever stop reciting random facts to me at..” you scramble to check the time, early morning, it’s hard to differentiate the hours when they all bleed into one convoluted mess of intimacy. “At 9AM, we will have serious issues. I might get HR involved.“

He’ll ramble about the laws of thermodynamics. Dedicating hours to the philosophical differences between determinism and free-will. You’ll call him a nerd, and he’ll laugh, muffling your protests with his mouth. It’s routine. Something to fall back onto.

 “Hey! Don’t drag HR into our domestic affairs! That’s—“ he interrupts himself to kiss you, again. Just because he can.

Once he’s satisfied that his lips will ache for the next millennium, he continues. “Anyway. I think we should get old together, and then, when we’re losing our minds, and we can’t tell the days apart, we just.. take a casual trip to space, travel through Ton 618. I’d be scared, so I’d hold your hand when we fall. Getting sucked into eternal darkness would be an acceptable way to go.”

He laughs, “You know, as long as you’re by my side, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” you repeat, before holding out your pinky. “Deal?”

He feeds his own through yours, “Deal.” 

Yeah, just promise eternal devotion to him. That wont have any lasting, fatal effects on his sanity. It’s not like he’ll cling to it for the remainder of his ephemeral existence.

Later that night, when you’re draped in limbs, skin pressed against skin, you sigh against the warm slope of his neck. “You’re reciting the periodic table in your sleep again..”

It’s a habit. A permanent, engrained idiosyncratic that he’s endured since adolescence. He stirs awake, turning to face you in the hazy light. Features swollen, sleep-soft and pretty. “Was I?” He murmurs, finding the audacity to ask, “What element was i on?”

Because that’s clearly essential.

“Osmium,” you say, tucking strands of tousled auburn behind his ear. “Gonna continue?”

“Mhm— yeah. Iridium. One of my favourites, thank god you woke me up before I got to it.”

You humour his tendencies; you’re nothing if not a condoner of his weird quirks. “Discovered by Smithson Tennat in 1803.” is your response, “The name comes from Greek Mythology, Iris. Two stable Isotopes, 191 and 193.”

There you go again. Fracturing his mind, and stealing his information before it can fall from bruised lips.

He thinks you might be cut from the same cloth. He thinks he was probably just made for you. “I like the way you say Isotopes.” He mutters, “Like the way you kiss. You always take my top lip.”

There’s no epiphany. No sharp blade, dragging, penetrating, skin, forcing you to confront stifled feelings. They’ve always been there. Red string of fate, Plato’s Symposium: Aristophanes’ account of the ‘other half.’ Hero and Leander. It doesn’t matter. There’s only the here and now.

He does this thing. Often. Where he’ll moan into your open-mouth. Fingers sunk deep into your hair, keeping you impossibly tethered to him. You’re not sure what planet he fell from, but you’re glad they deported him, if only for your selfish benefit of circuiting around him.

“I’m in love with you,” the admittance is easy. Maybe the words have always been waiting for you to verbalise, bated breath, inexorably interlinked. Maybe they’re long overdue. Something pleading to be let out. But, maybe, it matters more to wait until this, when everything is soft and untouchable. Fresh, untainted. He’d like to live in your skin.

Here’s the thing, Spencer always thought he would be the first one to say it. Reciprocation was always a fantastical hypothetical, something he could only blindly hope for. But, to have his illimitable feelings, in their extensive capacity, matched? That’s— more than he ever thought he deserved.

He presses his forehead to yours, “Saying ‘i’m in love with you’ doesn’t measure up, doesn’t articulate even a fraction of what I feel for you.”

He’s pretty sure he could die right here, in this one fragile moment, and be happy with everything he’s accomplished.

[whiskis]

A/N: Hi there! For those who don’t know, first part is here. (If that link doesn't work, try suscribing for free to Patreon and check this one) Enjoy!

Orc professor (part 2): late for class

Orc x chubby fem!reader || power dynamics, dom/sub undertones, exhibitionism (kinda), oral sex, size kink, age gap, degradation, praise kink

“If you want to show me your pussy, my cum better be leaking out of it. Do you understand?”

His words still echoed in your brain when you were getting dressed the next morning. You were already wet, and you fingered yourself to the memory of his dick in your pussy last evening. You were a bit sore, but the fact that you could still feel him made everything more intense, hotter… sexier. And it made everything so much better.

You decided to wear your pencil skirt this time, and blame it on your bad luck, but you spilled your coffee all over it. Cursing yourself, you changed as fast as possible, but not fast enough that you could get to class early as you knew you should.

By the time you arrived, he was writing something on the board. “Good morning, sir,” you enunciated very slowly, looking at him for directions as you saw the other few students entering behind you.

He turned around and stared at you with such intensity you felt your whole body react. You were almost panting, biting your lip not to groan out loud. “Good morning. You can sit down while I go to my office for a second.”

The other two students nodded and he passed you on his way to the door. He looked at you in such a way that you knew what you had to do without him having to say anything. You let your stuff on your usual seat and smiled at the girl who sat next to you, mumbling about going to get some coffee before class. She nodded with a smile and you had to stop yourself from running to his office.

You arrived just in time for him to pull you inside by the waist, pressing you against the door and kissing you senseless just like he did yesterday, his tusks feeling incredible against your jaw. His hands were traveling up and down your body, groping your ass and your thighs as he grunted against your lips.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your lips, pulling back and passing his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “You were late. And I thought you regretted what happened yesterday. I was freaking out, little human. And then you walked out like nothing happened looking hot enough to eat and smelling like me… Good goddess. Do you know what you do to me?” He pressed his hips against your middle and you moaned at the feel of his huge hard on.

“I- I can feel it,” you stuttered, your voice quivering when his hands squeezed your ass, parting your cheeks and letting one of his fingers rub over your lace covered asshole.

“You have no idea. And now I can’t even fuck you properly. I can’t ruin you the way I want because you were late.” He punctuated each word with a squeeze and a roll of his hips. You panted, so horny you were about to burst and he didn’t even touch you. “Goddess, you smell so fucking good…” He whispered, burying his face on your neck and inhaling deeply.

“I’m sorry… I- I spilled coffee on my skirt and had to change and then I forgot a book and have to open the door again and…” Your rambling was interrupted by his lip covering yours again, swallowing your explanation as he grunted, his hands massaging your ass-cheeks once again.

“What do you have after my class?” He asked, his breathing labored, almost desperate.

“A couple more classes,” you told him, mentally checking if you could skip any of them. But you knew you couldn’t. You knew you shouldn’t. You were a damn good student… Even if you were fucking your way through one of your subjects.

“Shit.” He passed his hand through his hair again, messing it up and making you want to whimper. “Okay, okay. I have classes after lunch, but I’ll be here around four-ish. Does that work for you?” You nodded fervently. “Okay, I expect you to show me how sorry you really are for being late and depriving me from what I was promised.”

“I can… I can give you my panties now,” you offered, feeling the lace sticking to your pussy lips like a second skin because you were that wet.

“I don’t want them. I want you to be feeling how wet I made you all day. I want you to be uncomfortable and thinking about my cock deep inside your pussy until you are so horny you are desperate to come. Until you know how slutty you really are…” You moaned, his words igniting a fire inside of you that made your brain short-circuit. “Now, compose yourself, we have a very interesting class ahead. I’m sure you are dying to know about the survival strategies of cacti,” he said with a laugh, making you let out a choked giggle. You weren’t expecting him to joke. Shit, why did that make him hotter?

The class was boring, but you didn’t even care about it. You didn’t care about anything but the feel of your wet panties against your pussy and his words resonating inside your brain. He made a point of looking directly at you a couple times, going as far as to ask you something about what he was saying, just to huff in annoyance when you didn’t answer correctly. But he smirked in your direction and that was enough to send you spiraling into a thousand of new horny thoughts.

You left his class as fast as you could, trying very hard to look normal when you passed him, but his knowing smile only made your clit pulsate harder, your core clenching around nothing and making you want to beg him to take pity on you and fuck you right then and there. But you were stronger than that, so you left his class on your way to the next one.

You didn’t take a single note the rest of the day, your brain filled with possibilities and images of his hard dick. The feel of his lips against yours, and the ideas of how would feel against your lower lips… Your brain was running a mile per minute, and you couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t the rub of the lace against your clit. It was exhilarating and maddening at the same time, and by the time four rolled around, you were on the edge and you had to run to his office in need of release.

You knocked rapidly, and when you opened and saw him there, shirt rolled over his big green forearms and glasses pushed down on his nose you almost came right there. Fuck, he was so fucking sexy it wasn’t fair at all.

“Come on in,” he said as soon as you closed the door behind yourself.

You tried to lock it, but he shook his head… Oh shit, that made you even wetter. The idea that you could get caught. That somebody could just walk in and know how much of a slut you were, that you were fucking your professor for a good grade…

You moaned and he chuckled. “Come here, little human, I almost hear your brain short-circuiting.” You walked to him, your steps measured so you wouldn’t fall. Your knees feel like jelly, and your pussy is so wet you are sure he can hear it from the desk. “So… Did you think about what you are going to do to redeem yourself from not meeting your end of our deal this morning?” You nod. “Go ahead, tell me.”

You’d been thinking about it all day. Your whole brain occupied by thoughts of his cock inside of you, against you, spilling in and over you… But there was one thought that surpassed all others. “I- I want to suck you off, sir.”

He smirked, his tusks framing his plush lips in a way that made your clit tingle. “Is that so? But you have such a tiny human mouth, I don’t know if you’d be able to fit me…” He teased, making you blush. You gave him your panties everyday, and that’s what got you to blush, him teasing you… Incredible.

“I will. It will. It will fit, sir,” you stuttered. This orc made your brain so fuzzy you could barely process words correctly anymore. You could barely talk when he was close, especially now that you were moments away from sucking his dick down your throat.

“Prove it then, little slut.”

You dropped to your knees so fast you moaned when you hit the floor, the spark of pain focusing your brain for a second. But the second you touched his big-as-tree-trunks thighs, your brain disconnected again. Only heat and lust left behind. You pulled down his fly in a slow movement, staring up at him as he looked back at you with an indescribable look.

You took his dick out and gasped again. You already saw it, you had it inside of you, but it was nothing compared with the realization that you were about to fit that inside your mouth. Maybe he was right, and it wouldn’t fit.

His eyes were tender when he looked down at you. “Relax, you don’t have to take all of it, just whatever you are comfortable with. I like you submitting to me, but I don’t want to hurt you in any way. Do you understand?” You nodded, relief running down your body and making you even hornier.

“Okay,” you whispered.

And then you launched.

You pulled out your tongue and started mapping the veins of his huge shaft one after the other. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair with such force you could hear the leather breaking. You smiled against his dick and he grunted, one of his hands fisting your hair and urging you where he wanted you more. You complied, you wanted nothing more but to be a good girl for him, a good slutty human for him.

You took his head into your mouth, your lips so stretched it was almost uncomfortable, but you liked it. You loved the feel of his cock inside your mouth, it was exhilarating in a way you weren’t expecting. You weren’t one to like giving head in general, you preferred to go down on girls than guys, but definitely wasn’t your go to activity, but right there… You fucking loved it.

You rolled your tongue around the tip, teasing the underside where you knew he was especially sensitive. He moaned over you, his fist pulling at your hair and making you moan around him, which made him almost whimper and let out a series of curses that would make a pirate blush.

You kept going at it, you couldn’t get past a few centimeters, he was too wide for you to get him to the back of your throat, but by the glassy look in his eyes you understood it was enough. You were messy, your saliva getting everywhere as you bobbed your head up and down.

He was looking down at you reverently, and you couldn’t hold back a few more moans, who made him thrust up accidentally. You pulled back coughing, eyes teary and a few tears rolling down. He groaned at the sigh, and you felt your clit pulsating with your heartbeat. You were so close to coming, you wanted nothing more but to touch yourself. You threw your body to him again, but he stopped you with the hand tangled in your curls.

“I want to fuck your pretty face, would you let me, little slut? Would you let me use you like my personal fuck toy?” You whimpered, nodding against his thigh as he pulled your head back by the hair. “Such a good girl for me, already so needy and desperate. Look at you… You look so dirty like that. Remind me to take a pic so I can enjoy you later,” his words made you emit a guttural moan.

The idea of him taking pics of you like that, make up running and lips swollen… it made you feel hot. It made you feel so horny you could feel your juices dripping down to the floor under you, your panties so wet they couldn’t hold your gushing pussy anymore.

“You like that? You like me having pictures of how pretty you look all fucked up? Why do I even ask, of course you do, you are such a little slut for me. Now open up.” You obeyed and he directed his dick back against your welcoming mouth. “Tap my leg three times if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded again. “Words. How many times?”

“Three. I tap three times if it’s too much,” you repeat, breathless already.

“Good girl.”

And then he started a brutal pace. He used his hold on your hair to direct your movements, moving your head forward until you couldn’t take it further and then retreating. Repeating that process until something inside of you gave out and you felt him slip inside your throat. It was almost too much, you couldn’t breathe, but your eyes rolled back into your head at the sight of him in pleasure.

He pulled back to let you breathe, looking down at you with reverence. “You look so fucked out I want to ruin you. Would you let me ruin you, little human?” You nodded, unable to form words. “Such a good girl for me.” He pulled your head forward and started to fuck your mouth in earnest.

Your brain was fuzzy, your pussy so wet you could feel it dripping down, and your clit asking for attention. The weight of his cock against your tongue, his hand on your hair and his curses over you were driving you insane.

“Touch yourself for me, little human. Come around your tiny fingers. Show me how much you like sucking my orc cock,” his permission was enough, your hand traveling down your body and rubbing frantically against your clit, over the lace.

His pace became erratic, and your fingers rubbed so hard you were almost afraid to set your clit on fire. But it was so good, the combination of sensations so intense you were about to come.

“I’m about to come. Do you want it? Do you want to swallow my come or do you want it in your face, little slut?” You sucked harder, pushing your head further down, swallowing around him to indicate you wanted it. You wanted to swallow him whole.

That was all it took. He growled over you and pushed his dick as far as he could before you felt the first shot of his come in the back of your throat. He pulled back a little to avoid chocking you, the final spurs of his release filling your mouth to the brim, some of it dripping down your chin.

The second he opened his eyes and looked down at you, his dick still in your mouth, you were done. You flicked your clit one last time before you melted, pulling back and spilling the rest of his come over your boobs as you cried out your own release.

Your vision whited out, your ears ringing as you felt your body moving as he pulled you up onto his lap, his hands caressing your back as he whispered sweet nothings that your brain couldn’t process.

He took some tissues from the box on his desk and carefully cleaned your messy face. “You didn’t take the pic,” you told him.

“We didn’t talk about it beforehand. I wouldn’t risk stepping over your possible boundaries like that.” Your heart skipped a beat. “But don’t worry, we’ll have more opportunities if that’s something you’d enjoy…”

“We will?” You asked, a bit confused but a spark of hope blooming inside your chest.

“I’m not letting go of your sweet, sweet slutty pussy anytime soon,” he told you, kissing your forehead as his hand traveled down until it met your dripping panties. “I would like this panties now, thank you,” he whispered against your ear, you could sense his smirk on his tone, making you laugh so hard you snorted.

Reminder that you can find all my other stories over @monstersflashlight

[somanyquestions-featuringanxiety]

Thx for the tag!! Here we go…

1. The Umbrella Academy, Angel The Series and Torchwood

2. They’re long and pale pink and have sparkly hedgehogs on them!

3. I LOVE smoothies, especially anything with berries!

4. Usually a pretty dress, sometimes a nice skirt and top

5. Eggs are amazing in all forms, but my fav is soft boiled with soldiers!

6. A bookmark?? Like a normal person???

7. My wardrobe is very colourful, I’m not really sure!

8. I don’t really collect anything, though I like to own copies of my favourite books

9. I have a comforting playlist which is my go to, and I find the smell of lavender calming too :)

10. Like the ones that ask you what you most relate to or what you feel best represents you

11. No, but I think glasses are super pretty!

12. I love her kindness and genuine love and concern for me and all her other friends, it’s really beautiful

13. Pen all the way, and it has to be blue or black!

14. Definitely my mum’s house and specifically my bedroom, but also probably my school

15. I have ZERO house plants because I have ZERO gardening skills, but I have a few fake plants (I KNOW ITS CHEATING BUT I CANNOT KEEP ANY PLANTS ALIVE OK 😭)

16. My fav hoodie is pink and fluffy and has rabbits on the back!!! I’ve had it for around four years I think, and one time I wore it camping and a small chunk of burning wood flew from the campfire and landed on my sleeve, so now it’s got a hole, but I still love it :D

17. A bunch of ink refills for my fav pens

18. Honestly anything in the renaissance era, specifically anything Leonardo da Vinci related, I’m super nerdy about him lol

19. That time two years ago when me and a friend dressed up as Aziraphale and Crowley (I got to be Aziraphale!!!)

20. Tbh I’m really good at maths, but idk which kind (she says while on the verge of tears due to a maths problem)

21. I’m not much of an artist but like I already said ik a huge nerd about Leonardo da Vinci so I guess his works interest me? I do like the renaissance style

22. Iced!

23. Whatever I feel like that day! It varies all the time, but my go to is anything by The Crane Wives (my fav band)

24. Don’t have my licence yet

25. No, and I don’t think I’ll ever get any (maybe my ears pierced if I ever get over my INTENSE fear of needles)

26. I am not particularly good at cooking or baking, but I do like to bake the occasional cake or some biscuits!

27. My home keys are on a keychain with a clear shell thing full of water and blue glitter, it’s really pretty!

28. My swimming level is like… not drowning. But I’m weak as fuck, have no coordination, terrible technique and I’m slow as hell

29. I had a TON of Lego when I was younger, and most of it is disassembled in boxes now except my fav sets which were all the Harry Potter ones, especially the burrow!

30. Yes, one side is uniform, T-shirts, long pants and skirts, the other is everything else, and within both sides everything is sorted by colour

31. I’ve genuinely got no idea, I hardly ever watch music videos

32. I’d probably do some pale pink streaks!

33. Headphones all the way!!!

34. Yes

35. A rabbit a very crafty friend of mine crocheted for me , except one of its arms is almost completely falling off now since it’s over a year old and I cannot sew for the life of me

36. I like to think l’m pretty good at air hockey, though I don’t know how accurate that is

37. I can stand it, but I prefer to have it just be me while either watching tv or listening to music while doing it

38. My fav show ever is Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and though some of my friends have watched a bit none of them really like it and it makes me so sad :(

39. Watching doctor who and eating dinner

40. Idk, probs willow trees (because I ADORE willow from BTVS but also because they’re pretty)

41. Coconut vanilla!

42. I have a few, like cookie run kingdom and geometry dash, but I haven’t played them in ages

43. Definitely on, but I’ve been curious about what it’s like with the lights off

44. Stick it in my purse and hope I remember it’s there when I need it (I don’t)

45. Yeah it’s pretty good! Definitely fluctuates a lot though depending on the speed and size I’m writing and how much effort I can be bothered to put into it

46. I don’t know if this is the latest but my fav band was introduced to me via a friend, and it was one of the best things to ever happen to me

47. Short, easy, pretty walks? Yes. Hilly hike things where’s its stupidly hot, ugly and the middle of nowhere? Absolutely not

48. Yes, a pretty pink bowl with cool patterns on it

49. Sit in bed and read!! Bonus points if it’s cold enough for an open fire

50. Under one soft blanket, in soft loose long sleeved pyjamas, a bit of background noise coming from outside my room but nothing loud, cool temperature, knowing I have no alarm tmrw

Whew, did them all!

No pressure tags (I know this was long but it’s super fun!)

@niamhings @amy-harper @hawthorne-swift-enthusiasttt @yourlocalchronicdaydreamer @yourlocalwhovian @n3rdchi1d + anyone who wants to!

50 Questions Just Because

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Do you like smoothies?

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

How do you like your eggs?

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

What color dominates your closet?

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

What sounds or scents calm you down?

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

What are some places where you feel most at home?

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

What kind of math are you best at?

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Iced or hot drinks?

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Are you a good driver?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

What’s the last music video you watched?

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Headphones or earbuds?

Can you read analog clocks?

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

What was the best part of your day today?

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

What scent is your deodorant?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

What do you do with spare change?

Do you have good handwriting?

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Do you like to go on walks?

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello!! I hope you're doing well! Do you have any recs for books about twisted/problematic relationships but with woc? Obviously there's our queen octavia butler but unfortunately for me i've finished reading all her books so i'm desperately craving for books that scratch this itch. Thank you for this blog btw i really love reading all your thoughts & reviews ♥️

goddd okay this list is not going to be nearly as long as I wish it was but it is extreeeeemely varied, so at least we have that going for us lmao. and hopefully you find something interesting in here:

right out of the gate if you're chasing that Octavia high, Rivers Solomon's novel Sorrowland feels very very in that vein. it starts with a teenage girl escaping from a Black separatist fundie cult while heavily pregnant with the cult leader's twins, deciding to give birth to the babies in the woods and raise them there. and boy, does it get crazier from there! there are some eventual transformative body horror sci-fi elements that I shan't spoil, but it's a time. the relationships are pretty secondary and genuinely not the most fucked up thing here, but our main girlie Vern is very much into girls and trying to figure that out on top of all the other horrors.

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is the first book in a fantasy trilogy by specfic queen NK Jemisin, and the first book in particular is really like. problematic relationship city. the protagonist is called to be an heir to a dying emperor and IMMEDIATELY gets embroiled in a love triangle with two of the gods that her family enslaves for power??? crazy shit.

I just kicked off this year reading a book called Darknesses by Lachelle Seville, which ALSO features a young Black woman fresh out of a cult (this one loves self harm and anorexia). and then she meets another Black girl who casually drops that she's Dracula, and oh boy do things get weirder from there. this book is like kind of Not Good but it is very entertaining; at a certain point you just have to turn off your brain and go with the vibes. it's sweeter than a lot of examples but listen, obsession and bloodlust are obsession and bloodust no matter how much your gf Dracula respects consent. there's a lot of murder!

this one doesn't have any supernatural bullshit afoot and is instead just regular degular #problematic, but Raven Leilani's Luster was one of my favorite books last year and follows an absolute shitshow of a young Black woman's extremely loaded and weird relationship with her older white boyfriend and his insane wife, as well as their adopted Black daughter.

anther no magic entry: I really love Oyinkan Braithwaite's My Sister, The Serial Killer, which is about exactly what you think it's about! the narrator is a put-upon Nigerian woman whose beautiful, beloved sister has murdered her last several boyfriends and has come crying to her dutiful sister to help her clean it up each time; the plot kicks in when the murdery sister sets her sights on the narrator's boss, a doctor to whom the narrator is also attracted. I know it's a sibling relationship instead of a romantic one but you didn't specify so! I am counting it!

this one is like very very very niceys compared to everything else I'm going to put on this list but it's also pretty hot so I have to mention it: Little Rabbit by Alyssa Songsiridej is about a young, bisexual Asian-American woman struggling to get a writing career off the ground falling in love with a Notably Older and wealthier white man and figuring out how to navigate the subsequent problems both within their own interpersonal dynamic and in how their relationship is received by others.

honorary mentions: books about fucked up white women that are written by women of color who Know!!

Under the Pendulum Sun by Jeannette Ng is a Victorian alternate history in which the English discovered the fairy realm and promptly did what the English did, ie, sending missionaries to teach the fairies about Jesus. the novel follows a woman traveling to the fairy kingdom to look for her missing missionary brother and promptly going insane as fairies gaslight gatekeep girlboss from all sides, complete with a side of everyone's favorite gothic horror trope: repressed sibling incest!

My Nemesis by Charmaine Craig is another very lowkey and grounded example, comparatively, but I thought it was neat and worth a mention! it's told from the POV of truly insufferable white woman writer whose emotional affair with a philosopher gets thrown for a fucking loop by the philosopher's wife, an enigmatic Chinese woman whose motivation the MC cannot guess literally at all. it's not the most exciting read in the world but the reveals hit hard and the reveals at the end made me YELL.

also for short story collections by WOC that can bring the #yikes factor in big ways I heartily endorse Roxane Gay's Difficult Women and Carmen Maria Machado's Her Body and Other Parties.

I wish I had more to throw you here; please if anyone has something to add to this list I am LISTENING

[featherandferns]

paint by number (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | sequel to colour in the lines! | the answer to this ask ;)

content warning: sexual content (f receiving, m receiving, p in v - MDNI); drinking

word count: 13k.

blurb: now in autumn, you and JJ seem happy as pie in your new relationship. There's only one problem: your best friend Esme can't stand JJ, and he's determined to find out why.

JJ hated school. He saw it as a waste of time; hours spent sitting behind various desks, staring at a whiteboard, staring at a chalkboard, staring at a piece of paper. Nothing interested him. Not the Roman Empire or the prose that Shakespeare wrote or the chemical equations that explained things like oxygen and water. JJ didn’t care how or why things were the way they were. He never questioned it and so never felt the pull for answers which were given to him in class. The only good thing about school? It got him away from his dad. 

Luke had been on a bender over the weekend and had come back drunk and enraged. As always, JJ was the one that was unwillingly in his line of sight. He became Luke’s outlet as always. Walked away with a split lip and a handful of bruises scattered across his body. When Monday came around, JJ only contemplated skipping for a few minutes. That was until he heard his dad stirring across the hall. With that, JJ was grabbing his backpack and clambering out his bedroom window. 

In books and movies and adverts, teachers are these benevolent beings. They’re patient and understanding. They take pity on the kids from darker backgrounds and shine the light on them, lifting them up. JJ hadn’t experienced that. Teachers looked down their nose at him. He could feel their distaste in the way they spoke to him, in how they addressed him, and in the ways they’d pick on him to answer when they knew he wouldn’t know what to say. It pissed him off. Made him want to give it back. A taste of their own medicine. 

Romeo and Juliet was the biggest snooze-fest JJ had ever read. ‘Read’ might be generous. He had skimmed the pages whilst hanging on the boat with his friends, having stolen the novel from Pope after he’d fallen asleep. Love-dovey-crap, that was all it was. The ending was ridiculous. Killing yourself for love? 'Give me a break', JJ thought to himself, snapping the book shut. It was fair to say the quiz that Mrs Hall dished out on the Wednesday prior hadn’t particularly elated JJ. Who said this, who did that - who fucking cares, is what JJ would like to know. He’d guessed half the answers and, whenever possible, left ridiculous responses to the others. But now, on Monday, after a weekend that felt like JJ had dragged his feet through the doorway of Hell, he was having to face the consequences of his actions, yet again. 

“I’ve got to say, guys. Not your finest hour,” the teacher, Mrs Hall, remarks as she paces the aisles of the classroom. JJ lolls his head back in his seat, eyes closed, arms folded over his chest. His foot taps impatiently on the vinyl floor, his combat boots a strange comfort in his unease of being in a classroom. The click-click of Mrs Hall’s heels on the floor feels like a countdown as she nears JJ’s desk. The smell of casserole comes with it. He wondered if she ate it everyday, for how often she smelt like the stuff. Boiled potatoes and carrots and gravy. JJ cracks an eye open to see his quiz sheet being placed in front of him on the table. 

“Poor work, Mr Maybank,” Mrs Halls reprimands. “I want you to see me after class.”

JJ peers down at the red letter ‘F’ circled in marker. It sneers at him, mocks him and his stupidity. What a waste. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe he would be better off dead. This felt like proof that JJ had nothing to show for himself. 

Restless, heart beating and body sweating, JJ tugs off his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. Huffing, he rocks back in his seat and tries to calm himself down. He’s angry. At the teacher, at the quiz, at Shakespeare, at himself. His mind fills with insults which berate him, chipping at his confidence and self-worth, and clipping his mood shorter and shorter. 

“Nice job.”

JJ glances over to his right. Mrs Hall blocks his line of sight but he can make out the other student well enough. She’s chewing on her lip, hands neatly placed in her lap as if praying, and she’s staring down at her quiz paper that Mrs Hall has just returned to her. His eyes flit up to Mrs Hall’s face. She’s proud, visibly so. Nobody’s ever looked at JJ like that. 

“Top of the class - as always,” she adds. Then she’s continuing down the aisle to the tables in front. JJ frowns as he watches the girl. She reaches out a hand and strokes the ‘A +’ that JJ can make out from where he’s sat, as if she’s some Disney princess petting a wild rabbit. It’s laughable. She thinks it makes her special, having a teacher give her praise as if handing out candy, letting a stupid letter define her. But it does define her. Makes her better than him. Than everyone. Gives her keys to doors that JJ won’t ever be shown to. He can imagine her going home, gloating to her parents with faux humbleness, waving the quiz paper around to her glassy eyed parents who beam with pride at their wonderful ball of sunshine. And he hates the image he conjures in his mind. Hates the way he can practically feel the warmth of the fairytale-like fireplace on his skin; the smell of the chicken roasting in the oven; the sound of the radio playing cheerful music from the better decades. 

JJ looks back down at his quiz paper. The ‘F’ looks back at him. It winks. JJ snorts. His voice doesn’t sound like his own when the worlds bubble up from inside him. They come out his mouth in a mocking sneer, as uncontrollable as vomit. 

“Fuckin’ virgin.”

The girl behind him sniggers, and so does the boy in front. It makes JJ smile, smug and proud, because that is what he’s good for. Being the comedic relief, with quippy remarks. That’s all he’ll ever be: the joke. 

But in his peripheral, he sees the girl’s head suddenly sag. It hangs low, shameful, embarrassed. He tilts his head just-so to make out her face. Her eyes are wet. Her lower lip trembles and he watches her sink her teeth into it, trying to keep it still. It looks like she might cry. His heart squeezes. For some reason, he thinks of his mother. Of the way she used to smile at him when tucking him into bed. Guilt washes over him like a cold shower and it makes him uncomfortable. It shocks him, catches him off guard, because he doesn’t even know this girl, so why does he care if he upset her? 

But he does care. He cares a lot. He cares because he doesn’t want to be that guy. To be callous and cruel and condescending. JJ suddenly realises that he doesn’t want to be his father.

His throat goes dry and he stares down at his test paper, but his attention remains on the girl. He hears her sniffle. He clenches his jaw. The words of an apology churn his stomach, similarly to before, but they’re less willing to come out. And just when JJ’s about to muster the courage, the girl’s hand is shooting up. 

“Yes?”

“Can I be excused to the bathroom, please?”

“Go ahead,” Mrs Hall sighs. The chair squeezes loudly as she pushes out of her seat. JJ glances at the door just in time to see her slip out and into the hallway. He swallows down the lingering guilt, pressing his eyes shut. 

“Alright, let’s get started. If everybody could open up to page fifty-three, I really want to start by reminding you about the conflict between the two families - since most of you seemed to forget about this in the quiz…” Mrs Hall begins her lesson. JJ doesn’t make any notes. Instead, he quietly and strangely obsesses over the fact that the girl never returns to her seat for the rest of the lesson. 

Over a year later…

JJ waits outside of the elementary school. It’s hot today, even though summer is officially over. Fall had walked into people’s lives with cinnamon coloured leaves and cool breezes at night, but there were still long stretches of daylight, warm enough to warrant nothing more than a sweater. He stands in his trousers and graphic tee, hands in his pockets, and rocks back on forth on his heels. He knows he doesn’t fit in with the others who stand in the playground. The mothers who gather in small groups like birds, squawking their gossip to one another. The fathers who small-talk over the latest baseball or football game, occasionally glancing at their phones to check their emails from work. There’s a nanny here too which is providing JJ with entertainment. She’s trying to wrangle three toddlers, with a brooding preteen unwilling to assist. The baby in the pushchair is crying out for attention. The nanny looks like she might throttle someone if they look at her the wrong way, though, so he only glances from time to time. 

His phone buzzes and JJ checks the group chat with the Pogues. They’re planning on going to a kegger tonight; JJ replies that he needs to check with you. The last text he sent to you remains unanswered, though that isn’t all that uncommon. 

‘At Leo’s school now.’

The ringing school bell has him shutting off his phone and pocketing it. The doors open not long afterwards and children come flooding out into the school yard in throngs. Girls loudly talking over one another, boys half-wrestling whilst descending the stairs, teachers looking crazed as they follow and try to control the chaos. Leo walks out by himself. He wanders out into the world, undisturbed by the madness happening around him. His hands clasp his backpack straps. He stops suddenly in the middle of the pathway just after the stairs. Some kids shout at him for it, brushing past him, and JJ has to clench his fists to save from walking over and giving them a piece of his mind. But then Leo’s looking around patiently, scanning the area, until his eyes land on JJ. He gives a small smile which speaks to boundless enthusiasm and runs across the tarmac to him. JJ grins, dropping to his knees, and lets out a huff when Leo’s small body collides into his with an embrace. 

“Hey bud,” JJ chuckles, hugging him back. “You good, little dude?”

“‘M good,” Leo nods, pulling away. JJ helps him shrug off his backpack; looping an arm through it, JJ carries it easily on his back. At the feel of Leo’s clammy hand pawing for JJ’s, he gladly takes the little boy’s hand in his, and the two of them begin their walk out of the school grounds. 

“How was school, little dude?”

“S’good,” Leo murmurs.

“Oh yeah? What lessons you have?”

“Um…we had gym, and art, and math, and English…”

“Sounds like a busy one, huh?” JJ wonders, glancing down at Leo. He’s focused ahead but nods. He gently squeezes JJ’s hand and JJ smiles, looking ahead. The rest of the walk back to your house is spent in scattered conversation. Leo asks borderline intrusive questions about yourself and JJ, and JJ likes to think he strategically dodges them. Leo asks about girls and what they like, and reminds JJ about the “prettiest girl in the whole world” that’s in his lessons, and JJ gives appropriate advice for the audience. When the pair finally round the now familiar walkway to your home, Leo’s hand slips free and he races ahead. JJ follows him into the house. 

“We’re home!” Leo hollers loudly. He rushes into the living room. JJ chuckles, shaking his head, closing the door, toeing off his boots. “Mama! Sissy! We’re home!”

“I think they heard you, little man,” JJ calls back. He places Leo’s backpack by the rack of coats and shoes, and he smiles to himself like an idiot at the sound of your footsteps on the stairs. Standing up, he looks over to catch you hurrying through the hallway to him. You’re beaming, glasses sitting pretty on your face like always, and JJ opens his arms in time to catch your hug, He wraps an arm around you and lifts you off the floor, savouring your giggle, grunting happily as he squeezes your frame against his. Your feet carefully reunite with the floor; arms staying coiled around his neck. 

“Hey brown-nose,” JJ smiles down at you. 

“Hey blue eyes,” you smile back. You push onto your toes and press a kiss to his lips, and JJ swears to God he feels every minor stress that he’s collected throughout the day fizzle away. “Thanks for picking up Leo.”

“All good. You get that food shop done?”

“Yep. Mom should be back any time soon,” you tell him. The kiss you press to his cheek is like a reflex before you pull away, untangling yourself, walking to the kitchen. JJ follows you. He sits at the kitchen island and watches you unpack the shopping. You slide a box of cherry tomatoes over to him which he happily cracks open, popping a few in his mouth. From the living room, the television whirs to life, loudly chattering into the quiet. 

“Missed you at school today,” JJ tells you. 

You smile as you open the fridge. “Missed you too.”

“Mathletes go well at lunch?”

“Yep. We think we might make it to the finals this year,” you reply, slotting various fresh fruit and vegetables into the fridge. 

“Damn. That’s exciting.”

You laugh. “Might wanna look up the definition for the word ‘exciting’.”

JJ laughs too, nods a little, eats another tomato. “Hey, the Pogues texted today. Said something ‘bout a kegger tonight. You down?”

“Maybe,” you say, closing the fridge. You wander over to him, leaning across the counter. “What time?”

“Whenever you wanna go, really. Guessing you wanna change,” he shrugs. 

You feign offence, leaning back and gesturing to your sweatshirt and jeans, stained with curry you meal prepped the night before. “You sayin’ I don’t look hot?”

“Come on,” JJ croons, grinning playfully, “You always look hot.” You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself, and resume your previous position propped up on the counter. “Seriously, though. You wanna go?”

“I’m guessing you do.”

“Hell yeah, I do,” he replies, making you laugh. 

“A’right. On one condition, though,” you say, pointing a finger at him. JJ’s heart immediately sinks an inch lower in his chest. “Esme’s coming too.”

“Really?” JJ asks. You shrug and steal a tomato. 

“She’s my best friend. I feel more comfortable at those kinda things with her,” you say, popping the tomato in your mouth. 

“You do know that I’ll be there too, right?” JJ half jokes. You roll your eyes once more. 

“I know that, dumbass. It’s just nice having another familiar face, y’know?”

“The Pogues not familiar enough yet?” JJ wonders. You’d met them more than enough times, now.

You shrug. “I just worry ‘bout her. She doesn’t really go out to a lot of things. ‘Sides, I want you two to get to know each other more. Y’know, hang out and stuff.”

“A’right, a’right, sure. Esme can come too,” JJ says. 

You grin at him. “Thanks, babe.” 

You lean across the counter, clearing the space between the two of you, and press a quick kiss to JJ’s lips. Then you’re pulling out your phone and calling Esme’s number, wandering out the kitchen just as the line connects. JJ sighs and tosses another tomato into his mouth. As he half-listens to your conversation in the hall, his mind begins to wander. 

You and JJ slotted into each other’s life like the perfect sized hardback on an overflowing bookshelf. Time which was once kept to the confines of tutoring sessions in Mr Sunn’s classroom had now stretched into days at the beach, hours on the boat, or nights in your bedroom. When neither of you were at school, and JJ wasn’t at work, you’d spend your time together in one way or another. You’d lie down on the wooden slays of the pier in a bikini, holding a book above your face to read, shielding you from the sun, whilst JJ would fish nearby. You’d lounge on the boat, relaying the details from the latest documentary you’d watched, whilst JJ would drive the two of you around the marshland. You’d lean against his shoulder, sitting side by side, roasting marshmallows over the campfire with the other Pogues, stealing sips from his can of beer. You’d stand at the stove, stirring a comically large wok full of food that you were meal prepping for the week, dressed in one of his sweaters and a pair of sleep shorts, with JJ’s arms wrapped around you from behind as if he was the one holding you together. You’d snuggle against him, safe and cosy in your bed, glasses slipping down your nose as the two of you would watch Rick and Morty on your laptop. You’d watch like a hawk as JJ mimicked surf lessons with Leo, balancing the young boy on a child’s sized board precariously planted atop of a stack of throw pillows. 

JJ had wormed his way into every aspect of your life. Your mom welcomed him as if he was an extension of the family. She borderline pressured him to stay for dinner and always reminded him to help himself to anything in the kitchen. She let JJ waste her daughter’s time with someone who would probably never amount to more than a high school graduate with average grades. She didn’t look at him the way most other adults did: like he was something dangerous, as if he were a cockroach that needed squishing. 

Leo adored JJ. You’d told him this, many times. JJ was more than happy to become a fixture in the young boy’s life. The pair had a secret handshake. JJ would read him bedtime stories when your mom had a night shift, giving you the time to shower in peace before winding down for bed. JJ played monster-truck racing with Leo any chance he got. You once made a half-joke to him. ‘I think Leo might be healing your inner child or something.’ Maybe he was. Maybe JJ was trying to give Leo the life that he never had growing up; full of patience and support and encouragement. He wanted to keep him safe from everything and anyone. He wanted to give Leo the world on a platter and then some. 

“Perfect! We’ll pick you up later then! Love ya!” you chirp through the phone. 

Yes, JJ had melded perfectly into your life in nearly every aspect. The one roadblock? Your best friend, Esme. 

JJ had tried literally. Fucking. Everything. He’d offered her rides back after school. He’d offered her to tag along on dates that he would much rather spend just as you and him. He complimented her, conversed with her - hell, JJ even read a book to have something in common with Esme to talk about. No matter what he did, no matter what he tried, Esme very obviously did not like JJ. The best part? This was an unspoken thing. The kind of quiet, simmering hatred that was only detected in the occasional glower and glare, in the odd snide comment, in the vague back-handed compliments. JJ knew enough about girls to know when one didn’t like him, and he had a feeling that Esme didn’t just ‘not like’ JJ. No, he was rather certain that Esme hated him. 

All that to say, he wasn’t about to give up hope. Esme could come along and third-wheel to the kegger if she wanted to. It wasn’t like JJ wanted to be mortal enemies with the girl. You valued Esme as much as you valued JJ, maybe even more. The way you meshed with the Pogues was as sublime as lemon slices in iced tea. You and Pope could sit and talk for hours about books and movies and general, intellectual stuff that JJ tuned out of. You and Kiara would give tarot card readings to one another whilst sharing a joint. You and John B had the same sense of humour, sniggering and laughing like kids. JJ wanted that with Esme. He wanted to be friends with her, the same way you probably wanted him to be friends with her too. That to say, when you walk back into the kitchen, JJ plasters on a smile. 

“She’s coming!” you chirp. JJ makes space between his legs for you to stand between them. His hand rests safely on your sides and your arms loop around his shoulders. 

“Great,” he forces, hoping it sounds elated and not like he’s constipated. “We picking her up, did I hear?”

“Mhm. I just need to change,” you tell him. JJ smiles, the irritation of Esme tagging along fading away. “Can you hang with Leo whilst I shower?”

“Can’t I just shower with you?” JJ asks with a cheeky smile. 

“Mm. Don’t tempt me, blue eyes,” you reply slyly. JJ hand slides tantalisingly down your sides until they're sweeping under your ass. He squeezes gently and tugs you closer, and he can’t help but grin at the way your breath catches. Your fingers sink into his hair as you kiss him deeply. His tongue brushes teasingly against yours, chasing the taste of you. He hums appreciatively at the lingering flavour of fresh tomato juice, palms splaying shamelessly across your butt. You’re breathless as you pull away. JJ fills his time with kissing lightly at your jawline. “We really need’t go upstairs. Don’t want Leo to walk in.”

“You worry too much,” JJ mumbles against your skin, but he silently agrees, slipping his wandering hands back up to your hips. You rest your forehead against his and sigh happily. JJ can’t wipe the smile off his face, it lingers like mist in the night. 

“Hey, JJ,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” 

There’s a beat of quiet and JJ opens his eyes. His smile dwindles at the look on your face: so serious, so contemplative. But before he can ask what’s wrong - what you’re thinking - you’re smiling again and kissing him, wiping his mind clean. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” 

With that, you’re walking back out the kitchen, calling over your shoulder: “I’m gonna get a shower!” 

JJ frowns at the door. That was weird. 

By the time you re-emerge downstairs after your shower - dressed and ready to go - JJ has watched so much children’s television, he wouldn’t be surprised if his brains are leaking out of his ears. Leo is good entertainment: he takes up the main space of the living room floor, dancing around to the theme tunes and dialogue, driving his red truck that JJ fixed in the air. As if on cue, as you make your way down the stairs, the front door opens. 

“Mama!” Leo yells, running to the front door. 

JJ hears the oof your mom lets out from the hallway, likely after Leo has collided with her legs in a hug, and he laughs to himself, shaking his head. You walk into the room and plop down on the couch beside him. You lean your head against him, tapping on your phone as you text Esme. The smell of shampoo and moisturiser and perfume radiate off you and it consumes JJ.

“Mm. you smell good,” he murmurs, staring absentmindedly at your phone screen. 

“Thanks. So do you,” you reply, typing away. 

Your mom wanders into the room with Leo in tow. “Oo, you’re all dressed up. You guys going somewhere?”

“We’re heading out for the night. Is that okay with you?” you check, glancing up at her. She smiles at you and then at JJ, nodding her head. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Go on, have fun. Be a normal kid, please. It’s a demand.”

“Thanks, mom,” you reply mirthfully. 

“Is it just the two of you?”

“JJ and Y/N, sitting in a tree!” Leo loudly begins to chant, giddy and overexcited. 

“I’m never forgiving you for teaching him that,” you mutter under your breath to JJ. He holds back his laugh. Then, replying to your mom, speaking loudly over Leo’s singing, you say, “we’re meeting JJ’s friends there, and picking up Esme on the way.”

“One of y’all is driving?” JJ nods, raising his hand slightly. “You drinking?” He shakes his head. Smiling, nodding, she says, “good.”

Leo concludes his song with a giggle, clapping his hands happily. 

“A’right, we should probably head out,” you say, pushing up onto your feet. “Told Esme we’ll set off in five.”

“Okay, you two. Stay safe, have fun,” your mom says, heading toward the kitchen. As you venture into the hallway to pull on your sneakers, JJ ducks down to meet Leo’s height. The little boy stares at him, eyes slightly unfocused, a smile lingering on his puppy-fat face. 

“You gonna be good, little man?”

“Mhm,” Leo nods. 

“A’right. Gimme some skin,” JJ murmurs. The two begin their handshake, tapping knuckles and wiggling fingers. With a two finger salute ‘farewell’, JJ’s rising back to his full height and Leo is wandering past and into the hallway. JJ follows to spot you giving Leo a tight embrace, smiling contently. 

“See you later, hon.”

“Bye sissy,” Leo replies, pulling away. He goes to find your mom in the kitchen. JJ intertwines his fingers with yours as he guides the two of you to the door. You look beautiful as you step out into the golden glow of sunset; hair slightly damp, freshly styled, and make-up glossy on your skin. Your glasses frame your face beautifully, eyes twinkling behind the lenses, and JJ is certain that he hasn’t seen anything as pretty as you. 

“You remember Esme’s address, right?” you ask JJ as the two of you walk to his truck. 

“Yep,” he nods, unlocking the truck. The two of you get comfy, settling into weird unspoken routines and rituals: JJ turning the key, starting the engine, whilst you mess with the air conditioning and radio. There’s a sticker that you bought a few weeks ago that’s stuck to the visor: second in command. It was a bit of a gag, considering that you were the one that made most of the plans. The queen of schedules. The drive there is quiet but not uncomfortable. JJ reaches across the centre console and rests his hand on your thigh, thumbing at the thin material of your dress. He can feel his mood dampening as he pulls onto Esme’s street. 

“There she is,” you chirp, pointing at Esme standing on the street side. She’s scrolling on her phone but looks up at the sound of the car. You wave at her and she waves back, eyes zoned in on you and not JJ. She clambers into the back, the smell of her perfume washing out yours - ticking JJ off more. “Hey!”

“Hey,” she brightly returns. 

“Hey Esme,” JJ says, smiling tight-lipped at her in the rear view. She nods at him in brief acknowledgment.

“JJ.”

Whatever, he thinks, checking the mirrors and setting off once more. You turn in your seat and make conversation with Esme, asking about her day, checking in on her studying. 

“I’ve only just started studying for Mr Sunn’s class,” Esme tells you. 

“Really? I’ve been studying since the semester started,” you frown. 

“Girl, that’s because you’re studying all the time,” Esme joshes. 

“What!? I do not study all the time, do I, JJ?”

JJ’s eyes flit up to the rear view mirror, catching sight of Esme’s irritation of him being included in the conversation. He struggles to bite back his smirk from how much it seemingly bothers her. 

“Babe, you do study all the time,” he tells you. 

You gape at him, laughing, “wow. I feel like I’m being ganged up on.”

“This is why I’m telling you that you gotta relax. Don't stress - that's what papa J's here for,” JJ reassures lightly. 

“Yeah. Pretty sure you’re a pro at relaxing, huh, JJ?” Esme asks somewhat rhetorically. You’re oblivious, it seems, to the double-meaning, but JJ isn’t. He catches it clearly in her tone.

Rolling his eyes, he bites his cheek and continues the drive to the beach. He lets you and Esme talk about books and study techniques and gossip about your other friends and peers, half-listening to the conversation (though mostly to you). Finally, he’s parking up at the beach. Dusk has now fallen, the sky a delectable collage of deep purples and blues and blacks, with nothing more than a glimmer of orange that hovers on the far waves of the water in the horizon. It’s already pretty busy at the boneyard. Touron season is mostly over meaning it’s primarily local kids. Thankfully, the Kooks seem to have other plans. Only a small group of them hover on the outskirts of the beach. As the three of you make your way over, JJ’s hand in yours, the music playing from a Bluetooth speaker gets louder, and the smell of beer and seltzers combines perfectly with the sea salt and fresh air. 

“Hey! There he is!” John B calls out. JJ grins, guiding the three of you over. He does a quick handshake-greeting with his best friend. You’re then letting go of him to give John B a hug. “What’re you guys drinking?”

“No drinking for me tonight, amigo. I’m D.D.,” JJ tells him. 

“JJ being responsible? Who would’ve thought we’d see the day?” Kie mutters jokingly into her cup. 

“I know right? Almost as shocking as when we found out he was getting tutored,” Pope kids along. 

Rolling his eyes, JJ slaps his shoulder in a brotherly fashion. “Just admit it, Pope. You’re intimidated by what might happen if I have the brains and the beauty."

“Good thing your girls got the brains and beauty part on lock,” Kiara comments. You smile at that, grateful and flattered, and JJ hooks his arm over your shoulder, tugging you closer to him. 

“You guys remember Esme, right?” you say, gesturing to your friend. 

“Course! She manage to convince you to come to another one of these things?” Kiara asks her. 

“Seems like it,” Esme chuckles, shrugging. JJ fights the urge to roll his eyes; it feels like a reflex reaction to anything she says.

“Hey, why don’t you girls catch up and I’ll grab us some drinks,” JJ offers, untangling from you. You smile at him, nodding. Pointing a finger at you, he checks, “beer?”

“Yes please.”

“You got it,” he grins, walking over to the kegger. John B and Pope follow, leaving the three girls to chat. 

“Yo. What’s that Esme chick doing here again?” John B asks JJ. 

“Beats me, man. Y/N insisted that she comes,” JJ sighs, hands sinking into his short pockets.

“What’s the problem with Esme?” Pope asks, frowning. JJ and John B both give him a look of really, man? 

“Esme hates JJ.”

“What? No way,” Pope replies. 

JJ snorts, grabbing a cup from the stack that leans against the kegger. “I’m tellin’ you, man, that chick wants me dead. And odds are that she’ll be the one to kill me off, too.”

“You find out why she hates your guts yet?” John B wonders. 

“As opposed to all the other reasons most girls hate your guts,” Pope mutters. JJ shoots him a glare and contemplates shooting some of the kegger at him, but refrains. Can’t waste good beer, after all. 

“Nope. Y/N is in happy denial that there’s even an ish.”

“Damn,” John B says, glancing over to the trio across the beach. Cup now full, JJ makes space for John B and Pope to fill up four more. “Look, maybe you could just ask Esme tonight if you get a chance. I mean, you and Y/N ain’t breaking up anytime soon so she’s gonna have to get over it at some point.”

“I mean, I’ll try, man,” JJ sighs. He takes a sip of your drink. It’s crisp and refreshing as he swallows. “I wanna get along with her. I know how much Esme means to her. God knows why but, hey, who am I to judge when my best friends are you guys.”

“That’s sweet, JJ,” Pope sarcastically retorts. JJ grins at him. 

His temporary annoyance of Esme’s presence disappears when you press a kiss to his cheek in thanks, taking your drink. Kiara’s in the middle of a story about a seal that she saw on the beach the other day; JJ listens along, his arm wrapped around your waist, and Esme seems to lighten up a bit. She tells a story that even JJ has to admit is pretty funny, and when he adds a joke to the narrative, she laughs. It’s a small victory but he’ll take it. As the night stretches on and the stories continue to be thrown around like a volleyball, you toss back drink after drink. It seems like you’re making up for JJ’s lack of alcohol and drinking for two. 

The drunk alter-ego of you is one of JJ’s favourites. You get silly; loosened up like oil in your joints. You want to dance with him, and tell loud stories, and giggle at just about everything. Considering your tolerance is piss-poor, JJ keeps an eye on you. As you’re animatedly debating the latest character addition to the fantasy series you’ve been reading with Pope, Esme gets up from the driftwood. 

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” she says. JJ sees his moment and takes it. 

“I’ll come with. Could do with a soda,” he says cordially. She doesn’t look thrilled by his company but doesn’t say anything, walking over to the keggers. JJ easily catches up with her, hands in his pockets. “So…you havin’ a good night?”

“You don’t have to do this, y’know?” Esme says, tone far from friendly. 

JJ frowns, glancing at her. “Do what?”

“Try and make nice with me. Like we’re gonna be friends,” Esme sighs. JJ stops suddenly in the sand, causing her to halt too, a few steps ahead. 

“A’right, what gives?” JJ sighs, dropping the niceties. “I’ve tried fucking everything and you won’t budge.”

“Won’t budge on what?”

“On giving me a Goddamn chance,” JJ replies harshly. 

Esme scoffs, rolling her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. “Typical man.”

JJ grinds his jaw. “Look, did I do something to you or some shit? I don’t get what your problem is? Did I steal Y/N from you, is that? Some secret feelings there that I’ve fucking steamrolled?”

“Of course! A heterosexual man’s mind jumping straight to lesbianism. Classic.”

“I swear to fucking God,” JJ mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Esme seems to take pity. She sighs before saying, “look, you really wanna know what my deal is?”

“Please,” JJ replies, meeting her glare once more. 

“I can’t forgive you for what you did.”

JJ feels like he’s in a K-hole. Throwing his arms out, he incredulously asks, “what did I do!?”

Esme laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “Oh my God! Of course you don’t even fucking remember! Classic!”

Before JJ can question her further, she’s planting him with another glower. “Look, she might be willing to forget about it, but I’m never going to forgive you for the way you made her feel. You’re just going to have to suck up the fact that me and you ain’t ever gonna be friends. Sorry, cis white man. Go cry about it on your Reddit page.”

JJ’s bemused, completely and utterly lost in the conversation. Esme seems done with it, finishing the walk to the keggers alone, and JJ doesn’t bother to follow. Instead, he returns to the others, soda-less. Your eyes light up at the sight of him, cutting off your own sentence. 

“Hey!” you grin. You act like he’s been gone for hours. It sure as hell feels like it, JJ thinks to himself. Your arms wrapping around his neck does help brighten his mood though. He finds his smile again. “I missed you.”

“Barely went anywhere,” JJ chuckles, kissing your cheek nonetheless. 

“Don’t care. Want you around all the time. Like a shadow. You remember the shadow lesson? I got you to do that experiment and you got super moody about it?” you ramble, giggling at the foggy memory. JJ chuckles, looking down at you. But then you’re yawning and swaying slightly on your feet, and JJ smoothly glances down to check his watch. 

“We should probably head out soon,” he tells you. 

“M’kay. Whatever you wanna do,” you hum, leaning against him, arms now wrapped around his middle like you’re a koala embracing a tree. 

“Hey guys,” JJ calls out to the others, catching their attention, “I’m gonna take her home. Any chance someone can give Esme a ride back?”

“I can,” Kiara offers happily, tipping her cup at him. 

“Sweet. Thanks,” he replies. He untangles you from his frame, taking your hand in his. “See y’all later.”

“Bye!” you call out, waving farewell as the two of you walk away. JJ glances briefly over to the keggers where Esme is just finishing up. She glares at him once more and JJ has to look away. Her words bounce around his brain, desperate to trigger some memory, but he’s coming up blank. What did he do to you? What is she talking about? 

“Did you have fun?”

JJ comes back to the world and smiles at you. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. Did you have fun?”

“Mhm,” you sigh, tossing your head back with a content smile. JJ laughs to himself. “God, why did I wait so long to start drinking?”

“Jus’ waiting for a horrible influence like me, I guess,” JJ replies. You smack lightly at his chest. 

“You’re not a horrible influence,” you mumble. The two of you step onto the tarmac and off the beach. “I think you’re probably the best thing that ever happened to me.”

JJ’s heart stammers from the casual gravity of your words. His lips twitch in a dopey smile. 

The ride home is hilarious. You sing along to nearly every song loudly and incredibly out-of-tune, making up lyrics on the spot for those that you’re only half sure of. Your hand stays latched in JJ’s the whole journey. Every now and then, you point at him, egging him on to sing too, and he shakes his head but happily complies. It's hard sometimes to match this version of you to the one he met at the first tutoring session. Pulling into your driveway, JJ is amazed you haven’t exhausted yourself from the concert alone. 

There’s a urgency that JJ knows all too well when you lead him up the pathway, hand in hand. You’re fumbling with the key for so long that JJ does it for you, and just as the two of you have stepped into the threshold of the house, the front door shut, you’re all over him. 

“Woah, woah,” JJ chuckles, searching for your shoulders to try and hold you back. 

“Come onnnn,” you preen, swaying on your feet. “Y’know you wanna.”

“Do I?” JJ snorts. Your mascara has smudged under your eyes and your pupils are dilated. It’s adorable, he has to admit. The picture of you gazing up at him wedges itself in his memory for a rainy day. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

“Hell yeah,” you whoop. JJ laughs and tries to shush you. You’re not particularly delicate as you stumble up the staircase. JJ enters your room first, you in tow. As he toes off his shoes, you shut the door. A hand grabbing his t-shirt has him glancing over his shoulder. Your hands plant on his face, pulling his face down to yours, and your lips collide with his in a messy kiss. JJ indulges for a moment, turning to face you, his hand finding your waist. But then you’re deepening the kiss and all what JJ can taste is beer and he’s pulling away. 

“Think we should just g’to sleep,” he tells you gently. 

You roll your eyes, the smile on your face not budging. “Boo,” you deadpan, dropping onto your bed. “Boring.”

“I gotta go pee,” JJ says in a hushed tone. “Don’t choke on your tongue while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try,” you sigh, lying down on top of your comforter. JJ chuckles. He makes his way quietly to the bathroom and flicks on the light. He pees, washes his hands, splashes his face with cold water, and borrows some mouthwash. As he swirls it around his mouth, he studies his reflection. His blonde hair is messy, partly thanks to your wandering hands. There’s a slight stubble building on his jawline that he should deal with sometime this week. The shark tooth necklace that you love to toy with sits atop of his t-shirt. JJ frowns at the thought of you and the conversation with Esme, and once more tries and fails to come to a conclusion as to what she might mean. 

By the time he’s back in your bedroom, you’re half-asleep, curled up in the centre of your bed. He laughs silently, grabbing a make-up wipe from your dresser, and rolls you onto your back. Your arms fan out and you crack an eye open. Your grin gives you away. 

“Take me,” you murmur sardonically. JJ snorts. 

“Sexy. Hard to say no to, for sure.”

“I know right?”

After taking your glasses off and placing them on the bedside table, JJ carefully wipes your face. When he’s confident he’s got most of the make-up gunk off, he tosses the wipe in the trash. Pulling you up by the arms, JJ reaches for the hem of your dress. 

“You want me to change you, or you?”

“You can do it,” you yawn, not bothering to open your eyes. Your head sags tiredly. It’s a quiet but overwhelming trust bestowed upon him by you in that moment. JJ eases your dress from your head and unclips your bra, mostly successful in averting his eyes from your chest. He eases your pyjama top over your head and you hum in approval. You slip off your panties and pull on your matching pants. Fully changed, donned in out-of-season reindeer pyjamas, you crawl into the bedsheets. JJ slips off his shirt and follows after you, flicking off the light as he does. You grab his arm and guide it over your middle; JJ takes the hint and spoons you. 

“You comfy?”

“Mhm.”

“Feel sick?”

“Mm-mm,” you hum ‘no’. JJ kisses the back of your neck through your hair. It smells like you. He feels safe here, like he’s hiding from the world, from his mind, from his memories. It’s an oasis. Your bedroom is a sanctuary where his dad can never go. Nothing matters in these four walls except you and him. “D’you remember?”

“Huh?” JJ whispers, brows tugging together. 

“The quiz,” you slur against your pillow. JJ frowns. 

“Quiz? Baby, what’re you talking ‘bout?”

But you don’t reply. He feels you go limper in his hold, slipping away into sleep. You seem to murmur something else but it’s barely intelligible. JJ’s half-certain you say, “I remember” but he can’t be sure. He just kisses you again, tugs you tighter against his body, moulding you into his hold, and closes his eyes. 

After an hour or so of disturbed sleep - full of twisty, turny dreams that make JJ feel sea sick - he stirs and wakes in the dead of night. Sighing, JJ leans over the edge of the bed and taps blindly around the floor until he finds his phone. 4am. Great. With a grunt, he flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling. His eyes slowly adjust to the darkness like mist clearing from morning, and he zones in on the once glow-in-the-dark stars. They only just shine through the dark room. JJ takes to counting them as if counting sheep, hoping the mundanity will help him drift off, but it doesn’t. Sighing once more, he looks over to his left to be met with your face smushed into the duvet. You must’ve rolled over at some point in the night; you’re nestled into the bedding as if trying to smother yourself. Without your glasses, you look so different. It’s as if you’ve shed a skin. JJ doesn’t realise he’s smiling until he feels it begin to fade, just as Esme’s voice rings in his head like he’s being haunted. “She might be willing to forget about it, but I’m never going to forgive you for how you made her feel.” Pursing his lips, he racks his brain once more, but the sleep makes his mind foggier than usual and he comes up with nothing. 

Feeling antsy, JJ gets out of bed. He sneaks out the bedroom, easing the door shut into its hinges, and slowly makes his way down the staircase. He knows it well enough to remember which floorboards creak. The hallway is dark but he can make out the obstacles well enough from streetlights infiltrating through the windows. Pushing open the kitchen door, rubbing tiredly at his forehead, he freezes. The overhead oven light is on; it casts a dim amber glow into the room, just stronger than a candle. Sat at the kitchen island is your mom. One hand props her jaw up, the other mindlessly fiddles with the corner of a leather-bound folder that she’s reading. At the intrusion, she looks up and meets JJ’s eyes. 

“Uh…I was just, um…” He awkwardly fumbles, gesturing vaguely to the hallway. Your mom just smiles and rolls her eyes. 

“I knew you were here, JJ. I heard the two of you come in - you need to get better at sneaking,” she tells him. Her voice is light-hearted and hushed, careful not to wake the other two upstairs. JJ smiles sheepishly. 

“I can head out–”

“--Don’t be silly,” she replies, waving his offer away with her hand, “you’re welcome here, you know that. ‘Sides, I raised my daughter well enough to trust she won’t wind up pregnant.”

JJ feels his face flame red. He can hear the lie in his voice as he stumbles with an awkward laugh, “oh, uh, we don’t…Y’know…”

Your mom cocks a brow at him in that way only parents can. “Are you about to stand there and lie to me, JJ? Lie to a nurse?”

Pursing his lips, JJ decides to avoid the topic entirely, instead asking, “how come you’re awake?”

She chuckles smally at that. “All these night shifts mess up my sleep schedule.”

“You’re not tired?” JJ wonders, wandering further into the kitchen to take perch opposite her at the island. 

“Course I am,” she laughs quietly. “Thought I’d try the good old fashioned tricks to try and get back to sleep.” With that, she lifts a mug of what smells like warm milk to her mouth and takes a sip. “What’re you doing awake?” She asks after swallowing. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Anything in particular?” JJ shakes his head. “Anything I can help with?” He hesitates, then shakes his head again. Your mom watches him for a moment before nodding, returning her mug to the island. “You want a shock?” she asks. JJ nods. “I like you for my daughter.”

JJ’s smile is a reflex; it’s bashful and flattered and somewhat giddy. “You do?”

“Mhm. I think you’re a good influence on her.”

And that - that is funny. JJ is amazed he holds back his laugh. It’s hilarious, even, and JJ wonders if he’s managed to fall back asleep after all because no parent in their right mind would say that to him. He’s pretty sure that he falls perfectly into a parent’s idea of ‘the worst thing that could happen to my child’. He’s a poster child for failure and bad decisions. At least, that’s what he’s let himself believe. It’s as if the universe is throwing him a bone; after a childhood and adolescence full of shitty adults, it gifts him with two wonderful ones in the span of a year. First Mr Sunn, and now your mom. 

Maybe she can read his disbelief, or hear it echo around the room in his silent laugh, because she’s smiling and chuckling through her nose. She pulls her dressing gown tighter around her, cosy in the fluff. “I can’t imagine what lies you must tell yourself, but you’re a good kid. I don’t think I’ve known anybody be as good to Leo as you, second to my family, of course.”

JJ smiles at the thought of the little boy. Shrugging, he replies, “he’s a good kid. Funny.”

“Stubborn,” your mom adds, making his laugh a little. “It’s not just him though,” she continues, tapping her fingers against the ceramic mug. “You’ve changed my daughter. Made her happier, lighter. Made her a normal teenage girl again.”

His smile turns softer, tender, at the thought of you. Every version of you that he’s had the pleasure to meet: the tutor, the sister, the friend, the caregiver, the daughter, and now, the girlfriend. Somehow, someway, with every side of you revealed to him, JJ only cares for you more. He falls deeper and faster to the point that he’s afraid his bones might break. 

“I know she’s had it rough. She had to grow up fast, as much as I tried to make sure she didn’t, and she places so much pressure on herself to be perfect. But when she’s with you, it’s like all of that fades away and she can just be…well, her,” your mom remarks. 

JJ stares at her. She’s exactly how he pictured a mom to be: shadows below the eyes and laughter lines on the forehead. Inviting and warm like a hot cup of cocoa in a log cabin. Familiar like a song from childhood. “Thank you,” he quietly replies. He’s afraid if he says it any louder, he might start to cry, and that might be his worst nightmare. 

As if understanding this, your mom smiles and nods to herself. She closes the folder up and takes her mug in hand. Stepping down from the stool, she says, “well, I think it’s time I try again at getting some sleep. Help yourself to whatever. Oh, and remember to turn out the lights when you’re done, hm?” 

JJ nods, smiling at her. Tugging her robe tighter once more, her slippers shuffle against the tiles as she heads for the doorway. As she passes, she tells him, “goodnight, JJ.”

“G’night,” JJ mumbles. The room is quiet after she leaves, save for the dripping tap and ticking of the clock on the wall. The light above the oven hums. JJ hears the stairs creak as your mom makes her way up them. Curious, he reaches across the kitchen island for the folder. It’s like an oversized book, with the covers bound in brown leather. When JJ opens it, he quickly realises it’s a photo album. The front page has the number three written in marker. Flicking through the pages, he gets sucked into the story of your life. It’s like an obsession; every image has him craving another. He builds stories behind them; imagines the conversation; pictures the scene behind the camera; hears the shadows of laughter from times passed. 

“Hey.”

JJ cusses and jumps in his seat. His head whips around to the doorway. There you stand, smiling cheekily, dressed in your reindeer pyjamas that are almost too small for you. 

“Hey,” he smiles. 

“What’re you doing up?”

“Could ask you the same thing?” JJ replies as you approach. Exhaling slowly, contently, you lean your head against his shoulder. JJ turns his head to press a kiss to your forehead and you smile. You seem to have significantly sobered up. There’s a minty wash from your breath which tells him you’ve brushed your teeth since waking up. 

“I had to pee and found you missing.”

“Damn. You didn’t call the cops?”

“Was just about to. Thought there was an intruder in the kitchen.”

“Mm. Yeah, I heard a thief was hoverin’ round these parts.”

“Oh God. D’you think he’s cute?” you ask with a gasp, playing along. 

JJ smiles. “Think he prefers the term ‘sexy’.”

“Think he might be delusional, then,” you murmur. JJ’s hand reaches out to squeeze a tickle at your waist. You snort and try to wriggle away. Then the two of you are back to how you were. JJ follows your gaze to the open picture book. “You snooping?”

“Blame your mom. She’s the one that left it out. I’m only human.”

“This is almost as bad as when you read my book,” you tell him. JJ sniggers. He turns a page of the book, impatient to see the next collection of photos.

“Nothing could be as bad as that. Think I still need therapy for the PTSD.”

“Should just take notes, really.”

“Like I need pointers,” JJ is quick to reply. “I know what my girl likes.”

“That you do,” you murmur, nuzzling your face against his neck. The kiss you plant after is sweet and sensual, lingering before your lips pull away. JJ breathes out happily. But just as before, his smile slowly fades. He swallows but the question doesn’t wash away. 

“Hey, babe,” he murmurs. 

“Mhm,” you hum, pressing another kiss to his lower neck. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Course,” you reply. You pull back, resting your head against his shoulder once more, and JJ’s grateful that you don’t stare him down as he musters up the courage. 

“Something kinda happened tonight and I wanted to ask you about it,” JJ tells you. 

You’re quiet for a moment. Your finger reaches out to toy with the page of the photo album. Quietly, you reply, “okay.”

“It’s just…I spoke to Esme tonight, about the whole ‘her not liking me thing’--”

“--JJ, what’re you talking about? Esme totally–”

“-- she literally told me to my face that she doesn’t, a’right? She’s pretty transparent with it,” JJ chuckles. 

Sighing, you nod against him. “A’right, yeah. Esme doesn’t really like you. I wouldn’t take it too personally, though. She doesn’t like most heterosexual cis men.”

Chuckling again, JJ nods. “A’right, noted. But I did ask her why she didn’t like me, y'know, specifically.”

“And?” you wonder. 

“And she said something kinda weird. She said I did something to you? I don’t really know what she was talking ‘bout but she said something about how you might have forgotten, but she’ll never forgive me for how I made you feel,” JJ replies. There’s a feeling of shame that comes with it; it’s prickly and uncomfortable. JJ swallows. “Any idea what she’s talking about?”

You don’t say anything. There’s a strange silence that comes and you fill it by turning the page in the photo album. JJ glances at you and you’re staring blankly at the book, lips pursed, and he sighs. He moves away and swivels in his seat. Bringing a hand to your face, you finally draw your eyes away from the book to meet JJ’s. His thumb strokes at your cheek, obsessed with how soft the peach fuzz of your skin is under the pad of his finger, and you press into his hold just slightly like a leaf sinking into snow. 

“What’s going on? I feel like I’m being left outta something here,” JJ confesses. God, it’s so uncomfortable, feeling this vulnerable. Your eyes flit down to the floor. The sigh you give tells JJ that something is about to come that he won’t like. It’s the type of sigh he imagines a doctor to give before delivering bad news. The type that a police officer lets out before arresting someone that they know. 

“D’you…D’you remember our first interaction?” you ask him, meeting his gaze once more. 

JJ smirks slightly at the memory. “What? When I stopped for take-out and you wanted to kill me?”

You smile too, but it’s small and fleeting, and JJ’s smirk quickly disappears into his frown. “No, not that. Not our first conversation. Our first interaction.”

JJ brows tug together. “I thought that was our first interaction.”

Sighing, you start to pull away. “Look, jus’ forget about it, alright? Esme is just holding a grudge over something that really doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Woah, now, hey,” JJ mumbles, reaching for your hand and pulling you back into the conversation. “It’s clearly something. I don’t wanna be held on trial for somethin’ I ain’t even remember doing.”

You’re visibly uncomfortable, shaking your head, huffing, glancing off to the wall. JJ swallows. He feels antsy, restless, and his foot taps nervously on the bar stool. 

“Fine, a’right. It was in Mrs Hall’s class. You remember her?”

“Mrs Hall?” JJ checks, frowning when you nod. “Maybe…Is she the one that smells like casserole?” 

You snort and JJ’s happy for the slither of humour. “Maybe? She taught English.”

“Yeah. She smelt like casserole.”

You laugh now, shaking your head at him, and JJ grins at the expression on your face, as if you’re in wonder at how his mind works. JJ tugs you slightly closer by your interlocked hands and you comply, squeezing at his palm. The smile becomes a shadow; you take a breath, and then you talk. 

“Okay. In Mrs Hall’s class, like a year ago, we were sat together.”

JJ’s eyes widen. 

“Not together together. Our tables were just next to each other. You were sat to the left of me? You weren’t in that class a whole bunch, so I doubt you even remember. Anyway, we had this quiz one time for Romeo and Juliet. I stressed myself out like crazy for it,” you laugh sadly. JJ squeezes your hand. His throat feels dry. “Leo had three surgeries the week before. Two of them were emergencies. I spent the whole time in the hospital studying next to his bed. I slept in a chair basically every night. I missed so much class that semester, too. Maybe that’s why you don’t remember…”

JJ wishes he could give you an answer, but Mrs Hall is drawing a blank in his mind outside of ‘casserole’. You suddenly struggle to meet his eyes. JJ feels his core clench as if preparing for a punch. 

“Mrs Hall started to hand the quizzes out, marked. She gave you yours first. I’m guessing it didn’t go so hot, cause you seemed pretty ticked off, and she asked for you to stay after class. And then she gave me mine back and I did pretty good. Well, more than pretty good, to be honest. I was the top of the class.”

“Brownnose,” JJ mumbles with a small smile, hoping to tease. But you don’t smile back. He prepares for the punch. A reflex. Your eyes close. Another deep breath. 

“Maybe you were annoyed, or maybe it was something else, I don’t know. But you said something, and some people overheard, and they laughed and…And I don’t know why it upset me so much, but it just did, and I left the room.”

JJ’s frown is deep and his brows are tightly furrowed in confusion. “Wait? I ‘said something’? What did I say? What’d you mean?”

Shaking your head, you sigh, “I really don’t wanna talk about this–”

“--Well, I do,” JJ accidentally snaps. “You just said I upset you. You gotta tell me what I said to you.”

“I don’t ‘gotta’ do anything,” you bite back, frowning at him. 

JJ shakes his head, trying to calm himself. He feels like he’s falling all over again, but this time it isn’t as exciting. It’s terrifying. He doesn’t know where he’s going to land. “A’right, you don’t ‘gotta’ tell me, but I really want you to. Please?”

Your eyes suddenly wash with tears and JJ wants to throw up. His mind races. Why the fuck can’t he remember this fucking class? What the fuck did he say to you?

“God, this is so dumb,” you whisper to yourself. You pull your hand from his to pre-emptively wipe at your eyes and JJ has never crazed your touch more. Staring at the ceiling, you take a breath. “You called me a virgin.”

JJ blinks at you. “I called you a what?”

“A virgin, JJ,” you snap. You meet his gaze and you’re quick to anger. “You called me ‘a fucking virgin’ in front of the class. And people heard, and people laughed, and…and you just didn’t say anything else.”

JJ stares at you. His lips fumble uselessly for words. You shake your head and close your eyes, and just as you’re mumbling something like, this is so fucking stupid, a tear slips down your cheek. And JJ fucking hates that he can’t remember this. It feels like a fever dream; like a blackout nightmare when someone tells you the next morning all the things you did and said, whilst your mind is nothing but white. 

“I…I don’t know what to say,” JJ whispers. “I’m so sorry. I don’t…I can’t fuckin’ believe I said that. I don’t even remember it.”

“Well, I do,” you sniffle. 

JJ eyes press shut. The praise your mom just gave him feels empty now, because if she'd known that he hurt you like that so flippantly, without it even leaving a stain in JJ’s mind, he could only imagine her hurry in seeing him out the door. 

“I don’t know what to say,” he repeats in a murmur. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine,” JJ snaps. He’s not angry at you. He’s angry at himself; at his past. His carelessness that had now tarnished something so special in his life. “I thought for once in my fuckin’ life I hadn’t managed to fuck something up and now–”

“Hey, woah, woah,” you hurry out. Your hands plant on each side of JJ’s face and JJ wants to cry because you still care. You’re shaking your head. JJ feels his eyes go glossy. You smile at him, small and sweet and reassuring, and fuck I’m going to cry, JJ thinks. “You haven’t fucked anything up, m’kay? This isn’t me breaking up with you, this is just me filling you in on why my best friend might wanna slice your balls off.”

JJ gasps out a laugh and it’s heavy, wet with tears that are going to start falling any second. You’re nodding now, smiling tightly, holding his gaze. 

“You haven’t fucked anything up, a’right? I know you now, JJ. I know you. And I’m sure whatever the fuck it was that made you say that had nothing to do with me, a’right? I’m sure of it.”

“It wasn’t. I don’t know why I’d fuckin’ say that but I promise you that don’t bother me, a’right? Like it’s a fuckin’ childish thing to say anyway.”

You chuckle at that. You nod, agreeing, “it was pretty fuckin’ childish.”

JJ laughs again and sniffs harshly. Your fingers swipe gingerly under his eyes and you collect the tears that have just started to fall. What a scene, the two of you must be. Dishevelled from sleep, standing in a nearly pitch-black kitchen, JJ in an old tee and shorts, you in reindeer pyjamas, crying like idiots. If it were any other circumstances, JJ would ask for a photo. 

“Do you forgive me? Like, I don’t fuckin’ blame you if you don’t, I just…I’m sorry. You gotta believe me when I say that, yeah?”

“You’ve got me, a’right? I forgive you, JJ. Please don’t tear yourself apart over this, a’right? I don’t give a shit about that, now. Esme does because she’s a good friend and she’ll go to hell and back for me. But I don’t give a shit,” you tell him firmly. “I swear to God I don’t care.”

“I do,” JJ whispers. 

“I know you do,” you reply, just as quiet. The kiss you give him is far too short, over too soon: nothing more than a pack. “That’s what makes you a good person.”

JJ shakes his head and you nod yours and the two of you laugh. 

“You are, JJ. Cause if you weren’t - if you were a true, hardcore dick - then you wouldn’t give a shit right now about something that happened over a year ago before we even knew each other,” you tell him. 

JJ shakes his head at you, mouth parted in disbelief. “How the fuck did I get lucky enough to bag you?” You laugh at that, rolling your eyes, but JJ can’t get past it. “I mean, I must have been a fuckin’ saint in my past life or some shit.”

When you step into JJ’s orbit, he’s so relieved it’s nearly palpable. He wants you to devastate his personal space - it’s not like he liked it anyway. Your hands slide up his arms and slowly over his shoulders, and JJ plants his trembling hands on your hips. His fingers press gently into the bones as if he needs the tangible proof that you’re still here. That after he could say something so fucking pathetic, you still want him. 

“For the record, you were wrong,” you say. JJ frowns slightly. You’re smiling, now. It keeps growing by the second. “I wasn’t a virgin. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

JJ scoffs. “Bubble not burst, don’t stress.”

“If you want some good news, you outrank him by, like, miles.”

JJ can’t help the smug grin that comes with that comment. “I do?”

You nod, smiling slyly, leaning closer. JJ can smell your perfume and the lingering scent of the laundry detergent from your bedsheets. It’s intoxicating. He tugs you closer by an inch. The cotton of your pyjama pants are soft and scratchy. 

“It was some random guy from Model U.N.”

“Which country? Switzerland?”

You giggle. “Russia.”

“Russia? Damn, if this was cold-war times then you could’ve been arrested for that,” JJ jokes. You laugh and it’s the best sound in the Goddamn world. He’s falling again, slipping, quick, and he feels like he knows where he’s heading now. “Y’know why he sucked?”

“Why’s that?”

“He weren’t French. You know those guys are freaky as fuck.”

You’re giggling, bumping your forehead against his, and JJ is sniggering too, and everything washes away as the tears finally stop falling from either of your eyes. Then, as if sharing a thought, the laughter dies down, and the moment settles into a simmering heat, and the two of you are standing so close, you’re nearly one. Your arms tighten by a hair around JJ’s shoulders. He stares up at you and you down at him, and he knows it. He’s known it for a while. Your smile flickers - comes and goes like a dying lightbulb - from the nerves, and JJ feels like he’s a mirror. 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

JJ lets out a sharp breath. He swallows the fear, the self-doubt, and he tries not to cry for the second time that night. “I love you too.”

“You do?”

Laughing, he shakes his head ever so slightly. “You wanna know somethin’? From the minute you called me ‘blue eyes’, I was done for.”

You giggle, bashful, giddy, and JJ feels like he gets it now. He gets why Romeo and Juliet did the stupid things they did, all in the name of love, desperate to be together. He understands why people lost their minds and fought the wars. He understands why there’s so many songs, so many poems, movies, books, fucking greeting cards about the damn thing. It isn’t just one thing - it never is. It’s the way you sleep nuzzled in your sheets. It’s the divots your glasses leave permanently on the contour of your nose. It’s your laugh when JJ tells you another corny dad-joke. It’s the books you read when JJ’s fishing. It’s the sounds you make when JJ makes you come. It’s the patience you have with Leo. It’s the abomination that is the pasta you cook in the microwave when you’re hungover. It’s the way you kiss him when you’re high, and the way you kiss him when you’re not. All of it, every version of you, every piece and part that makes up the puzzle of your life: JJ is in love with all of it. 

His lips press to yours desperately, like he needs to tell you all of this and more. You hum deeply, pressing back against him, fingers quick to reach for his hair. JJ’s hands grasp at your body, tugging you in, reeling you nearer until you’re practically falling against him. 

“Fuck,” you whisper in the brief pause of the kiss. JJ grunts, kissing you back harder, deeper, and you’re whining into his mouth. The tips of your nails scratch tantalisingly at his scalp. One of your hands slips down until it’s on his thigh, searching for purchase. JJ feels like every nerve ending is lit up with electricity. He needs you closer, deeper, more more more. The taste of you; the wetness of your tongue; lips slick with spit. JJ wants it all.

His hands hook under your thighs and he picks you up. You let out a squeak, breaking apart, as JJ lifts you up and onto his lap. You giggle into the kiss, reconnecting your mouth with his, and JJ grins. 

“We should really go upstairs,” you tell him between kisses. 

“Fuck that,” JJ replies, making you laugh. He shushes you, chuckling too, and you pull away and place the back of your hand to your lips as if to stifle them. JJ brushes some hair off your face and smiles at you. He’s so turned on and so in love and he gets it now. “I love your laugh.”

You roll your eyes, smiling coyly, rubbing your lips together. JJ swipes his tongue over his own, savouring your taste. You stroke his cheek as your hand descends down his body. It follows the curve of his neck, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, before it slips into the waistband of his shorts. He lets out a sigh, relieved and desperate for more all at once, as your hand wraps around him. Your eyes twinkle with your smile: teasing, shameless. He grows harder and harder with each gentle rub, your fingers delicate around his length. He starts to breathe heavier, small pants and gasps, trying to hold his head up. Your teeth sink into your lower lip. 

“Feels good?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, eyes slipping shut. There’s the rustle of your clothes as you lean forward, and then there’s the wet feel of your mouth on the thin skin of his neck, kissing and suckling. JJ moans loudly and you pull away, slapping a hand over your mouth. 

“Shhh!” you giggle. JJ laughs against your hand, cutting himself off with a moan, and you giggle harder. Your breath is hot and downright erotic when you whisper into JJ’s ear, “you gotta be quiet. Don’t wanna get caught, d'you?"

JJ pulls away from your hand and sniggers, chasing your lips. “You’re fucking evil,” he murmurs before kissing you again. You hum appreciatively into the kiss, hooking an arm over his shoulders for stability, and you jack him off faster. JJ’s head drops against your shoulder and he pants heavily. He can feel it building, the edge inching closer, and he’s trying so fucking hard to be quiet. 

“Don’t wanna come yet,” he mumbles, trying and failing to kiss you. “I wanna come in you.”

“M’kay,” you breathe, pulling your hand away. Despite his words, he whines at the loss of your touch, and you’re giggling again like all of this is just so Goddamn funny, and he’s chuckling too. 

“Get on the counter,” he says before kissing at your neck. You nod, eager, and JJ chuckles as you free your hand and grab the edge of the counter to your side. Once perched (photo album shoved carefully to the side, out of the way), JJ stands up, pushing the stool back, and plants a hand either side of your legs. He kisses you like you’re the only air in the room and he’s suffocating. Your hands paw at him, clawing at his skin, holding him close. Moaning and whining into his mouth, quiet but not shy. “I fucking love you.”

“Love you too,” you gasp. His fingers hook into the waistband of your reindeer pyjama pants and JJ can’t help but chuckle. 

“These fuckin’ things.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no, they’re sexy,” JJ tells you in a hushed tone. It’s all giggles and humour as JJ tugs them down, you wiggling ungainly to help get them free. “Fuckin’ better than all that ling-e-rie crab.”

“It’s pronounced lon-zhuh-ray,” you correct. 

“Remember our rule? No big words?”

“It’s not a big word, just a French one,” you tell him, lightly kicking your feet to help get them off as JJ pulls, now on his knees. 

“Whatever. They’re banned too,” JJ grins. He tosses the old, worn-out pyjama trousers to the side. His palms slide up the inside of your legs, easing them apart with a gentle push, and you’re leaning back on the counter on your hands, breathing heavily in anticipation. JJ pushes up onto his knees and glances up at you; you’re watching him through hooded eyes, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, teeth gnawing at your lower lip, and weirdly JJ wishes you were wearing your glasses. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh and smirks at the sound of your breath catching. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

One of your hands sinks into his hair. JJ takes your silent command. The first taste is exiguous - he goes down on you like a man fucking starved. Your own advice on being quiet proves difficult. You’re a whining, writhing mess, gasping out his name in stuttered breaths, fingers tugging and pulling at his locks, nails scratching at his head. JJ moans, the taste of you heady on his tongue, and his hands grip your thighs mean to keep them open, needing something to ground himself with, and it’s so fucking good. 

“Fuck, Jay,” you gasp, thighs flinching. He hums appreciatively, suckling at your clit, and your legs hook around his shoulders, holding him near. “Don’t stop, don’t stop…”

Your words become mush, an incoherent jumble as you chase your high, hips buckling off the counter, and JJ refuses to relent until you’re coming with a mewl, only just on the brink of being too loud.  

“That’s it,” JJ murmurs, savouring every last drop. “That’s it, baby.”

“God,” you sigh. 

You flop onto your back, laughing breathlessly, and JJ leans back, wiping his grinning mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes glance between your legs, watching a droplet of your wet slip down the inside of your thigh, and he has to have you now or else he won’t last. Everything is a blur of clothes being shed - murmurs of come here and gotta fuck you - and JJ has never been more grateful for the pill. When he fucks you, it’s fast and desperate and somehow loving all at once: a strange erotic mess as the two of you chase your release. You're barely balancing on the edge of the counter, legs wrapped tightly around him, arms wound around his shoulders like a viper. His lips are searching, alternating between your collarbones and tits - your pyjama top discarded. You struggle to keep quiet, biting into the skin of his shoulder, making JJ groan into the flesh of your chest, and it follows that strange dance and pattern until JJ’s gasping, “M’fuckin’ close, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

“I’m close, I’m close,” you whimper, kissing at his neck as if that’s going to make it easier to hold out. Then you’re holding him close, head tilting back, and JJ knows you’re about to come. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, right there, right there, Jay. Yes.”

He falls over the edge the second you clench around him, grunting against your clammy skin. The two of you rise and fall together, breathing heavily, heads foggy, and JJ feels like he returns to earth when you gently stroke his cheek, easing him away from your body. He finds your lips easily like following a route home. You sigh against his mouth and he can taste your smile; it mirrors his own. 

“I love you,” you whisper. You could say it forever, everyday, every second, and JJ doesn’t think he could ever get sick of it. He pulls away and opens his eyes into yours. You're smiling at him, admiring him like he’s the rarest thing on earth, and he shakes his head in disbelief that this is his life now. That he gets this, and he gets you, all because of some tutoring sessions.

“I love you too,” he whispers back. Then, unable to help himself, he asks, “Still better than Model U.N. guy?”

You bark out a laugh, stifling it in his neck, and JJ chuckles. “Mhm. Much better.”

“Good. I gotta beat Russia - that’s, like, my duty as an American.”

Before you can make another joking retort, the sound of a bedroom door creaking open upstairs has the pair of you freezing. The two of you stand as still as statues, waiting in laboured breath, listening. 

“Sissy?” Leo’s sleepy voice calls out from upstairs. 

You meet JJ’s wide eyes with your own. 

“Get dressed.”

---

taglist (let me know if you would like to be added): @highformaybank |

[filthygalli]

Unholy

Fem!Reader x Priest!Hwang In-Ho (one shot)

Warnings: 18+, Sexual Innuendo, Not for religious people tbh, mention of fingering, sex, bibles, beliefs, and many more that I forgot. Badly written and also not proofread.

Word Count: 1747

Author's Note: I wrote this while waiting for my friends outside the lobby of my school, it took me an hour to construct something like this but I feel like it's bad, please let me know what do you think! 🥺🖤

You're not as faithful as your parents, they pray everyday and night, thanking god for everyday life that God made for them, going to church every Sunday, worshipping their god, offering help at the church when they can—while you their only daughter and child aren't that faithful, you respect it though, it's just you have more important things to do since you're in college and also working as a librarian at a local Library not too far from your house. You work there for months now and honestly, you enjoy it. You get to read your favorite books while helping the locals to find their own books, recommending them books, telling them where it is located, it's simple but you enjoy it.

One day, there's this Tall and handsome middle aged man went inside the library, he's alluding, his jaw is Sharp, his hair looks soft and fluffy—it almost cover his forehead, it's also a dark brown color, you looked at him from up to down, he wears a rimless glasses, pushing it up on his nose with his index fingers, he wears a black pants, a leather boots that heels clicked everytime he walks—he looks hot and sexy, yet innocent. Too innocent looking for an old man like him, you also noticed his clothing, similar from what the priest wears, black button up sleeve that hugged every muscle on his figure, the way his biceps tightened around the sleeve of his shirt, veins popping out as he adjusts the sleeve from his elbows, then he walked towards you—Wait Towards you?!—His gaze on you is soft and quiet, he slowly walks towards you, the heels of his leather booths echoed through the thick air of silence, You gulped as he smiled at you before speaking, “Hi, Good morning.” He said leaning down a little at your table, Your breath hitched as his dark brown eyes turned up to look at you, ‘God…’ you thought, a silver cross necklace hangs on his neck as he leaned down, “Hi, Goodmorning Sir..” you mumbled as you tried to pretend that your busy, “I'm sorry to bother but I need some help to find a specific book..” he said as he deeply chuckled, ‘Fuck, he looks and sounds so hot’ you thought as you gave him a shy smile, “Ah..What kind of book is it?” You said slightly fixing your skirt as you stood up, He paused for a moment, “Well…I-” he hesitated before chuckling again, “It's a book about.. Erotic fiction,” he said scratching the back of his neck, avoiding your look, ‘Oh…not so innocent at all’ you thought as you gave him a smile, “Well, we have a lot,” you said chuckling at him, “yeah..” he muttered as he smiled back, he smiled brightly, “Follow me, Mr..?” You said walking towards the book section as you turned back to him, “In-Ho, Hwang In-Ho.” he looked down on your figure as he towered you, “Mr. Hwang…please, Follow me.” You said as he nodded, following you after.

“Here we are,” you said as you pointed at the bookshelves full of erotic fictions that Mr. Hwang asked you, “That's a lot…” he said as his eyes wandered through numerous books. In Front of him, his eyes twinkled at the different colorful and dark book covers, “What do you recommend? Ms..?” he said eyeing you, “Y/n L/n” you mumbled as he nodded, “Y/n..” he tested your name on his lips, he liked the sound of it, it's unique and beautiful—perfect for such a beautiful woman like you, “Well, Nice to meet you, Ms. Y/n.” He said extending his hand for you to shake, you looked at his hand, Fuck his hand look so big compared to yours, it's veiny and it looks soft—You extended your hand as you felt his soft touch against your skin, you shook it as Mr.Hwang didn't break eye contact with you, “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Hwang.” You muttered, “In-Ho, Call me In-Ho, Sweetheart.” You blushed at the name he called you, Sweetheart? You repeated the name inside your head, you smiled slightly to yourself, Mr. Hwang noticed it, he smirked as he pulls his hand away from your grasp, “So,” you breathe out, “It's quite odd for someone like you to find such books like these–” you said motioning the books around the two of you, he chuckled deeply, “I like reading, it's just,” he stopped for a moment, unsure of what's he going to say, “I wanted to try the uhm, this kind of genre.” He said as he slowly looked away from you, embarrassed. “I see, well, there's a lot of books that are great under the genre that you're curious about,” you said as you slowly wander your eyes around the bookshelves, finding a specific book that might interest Mr. Hwang—He glance at you; admiring your innocent features, the way you would look at him…it's pure innocence, your soft and pinkish lips, he also noticed your hands earlier , the way his own hands gripped yours, your delicate touch made him shiver a little, The way your skirt hugged your curves—it fits perfectly on you, the only thing he can think about is bending you over on your table as he raise your skirt, spanking your ass hard that'll leave marks on your skin for days, or maybe bending you over as he slid his fingers inside you, pumping in and out of your pussy teasingly as you beg him to go faster as you chase your high, he felt his pants get tight as he thinks about his unholy thoughts about you, for god sake—he’s a damn priest, why would he think such things like this? He'll burn in hell because of you, but his soul is worth burning if he sinned because of you.

He'll make you quiver, shake, and whisper his name like a fervent prayer.

His eyes grew darker, as you explained every detail of the book that you recommended to him. At this point he doesn't need that book, he needs you, he yearns for you.

“Mr. Hwang?” You called his name, “Hmm?” He muttered, snapping himself out of his thoughts, “I said, Would you enjoy these?” You said bringing the two books from your hand to his face, he looked at the dark cover of the book, it had skulls and roses on it, ‘Haunting Adeline’ he read the book title in his mind, “Oh..what is it about?” He asked tilting his head a little, “Well…it's a cat and mouse trope, he stalks this girl and do stuffs to her..” you said almost a whisper, he noticed that you were shy, he finds it adorable, “Ah, I see…that'll do, I'll let you know if I liked it or not,” he chuckled which made you chuckle too, “Alright, just bring it to my desk so I can log the book under your name,” you said as you gave him a knowing look, he nodded and followed you behind.

You logged the book under his name and asked for his details, “Sorry but…what's your name again?” You asked slightly embarrassed. That's a big lie, Of course you know his name. He chuckled, “Next time…I'll make sure you'll remember my name.” He teased as he deeply chuckled, the sound of his chuckle sent shivers down your spine, “It's Hwang In-Ho, Sweetheart.” There is it again, that little nickname. “Right, I'll make sure to remember it this time.” You gave him a smile as you gave the book to him, “Here you go, Mr. Hwang.” he grabbed the book on the table, still looking at you, “I told you to call me In-Ho, sweetheart.” he said as he grinned, “In-Ho…Alright.” You say as you nodded, he left after that.

In-Ho went out of the Library, his mind is full of your image all he could think about is Y/n. Y/n. Y/n. Y/n. He can't stop himself from thinking such things about you, he feels disgusting, pathetic—he’s a fucking priest! First, he borrowed a book that it's clearly not appropriate for him to read, second, the way he imagined how he will bend you over and fuck you all over the bookshelves in that library makes his pants tight, he groans to himself as he reach his house, throwing the book on the coffee table, he sat down on the sofa as he questions himself about what he just did a couple of minutes ago.

Reading is one of In-Ho’s hobbies. He likes to read any kind of genre of books, he owns tons of erotic fiction in his home, it sounds odd that a priest who's supposed to be reading bibles and pray every day and night likes to read unholy fiction novels. But, earlier at the library it's his first encounter with a woman like you, you're beautiful unlike other women that he had one night stand with, Christ—he’s a priest and he does one night stand?!—He likes how calm you are, how cute you are when you get shy or stutter a little when he looks at you, he yearns for you, he wants you badly, and he'll make you his no matter what.

You sat on your chair doing paperwork as the priest from earlier came across your mind, you thought of how handsome he is for a priest, how veiny his hands are, how fit he is—is he really a priest?—how he looks at you with those eyes, it's not just a normal look, it's the hungry gaze, how his pupils dilate when he looks at you, it's weird because priests should be reading bibles instead of erotic fictions, right? Also…a dark romance book too? You wonder if he likes to read books like that, you wonder what book is his favorite, or where and what church is he a priest on because you want to see him on that altar speaking words of god as you hear it as words of lust, how you want him to moan your name like a prayer, spread your folds like a page from a Bible, or bend your back on the table like how he bends the spine of the book where words of god is written, you feel a pool of wetness on your thighs as you squeeze them together, it feels so illegal, thinking this way, it's filthy and disgusting, Yet you love it.

Author's Note: Aaaaaaa omg thank you for reading my works, we're so close on 300 flowers!! I'm so touched for having such kind and loving readers like y'all:(( I'm going to keep publishing my works for y'all! More updates soon! Thank you!🖤🥺

[00valentina-writes00]

Abby with gf who has an ed???

✞⛧ Abby Anderson with a girlfriend that has an ED ✞⛧

Tw: Mentions of ED

✞⛧ Abby notices before you even say anything. She’s observant, always watching you with those sharp, concerned eyes. At first, she doesn’t push, but she starts taking mental notes—how little you eat, how often you make excuses, the way your hands tremble when you go too long without food.

✞⛧ She’s so gentle about it. She doesn’t force you to eat or make you feel bad, but she always makes sure there’s food around. “I made extra,” she says casually, setting a plate in front of you. “Eat if you want.”

✞⛧ The first time you break down and admit you’re struggling, she just holds you. No judgment. No anger. Just strong, steady arms around you as she murmurs, “We’ll figure this out, okay? Together.”

✞⛧ She starts bringing snacks to share during patrols. “We gotta keep our energy up,” she says, handing you a protein bar. She takes a big bite of hers first, making a show of how good it is, hoping you’ll follow suit.

✞⛧ She’s so patient. Never makes you feel guilty. Never rushes your progress. Just steady, unwavering support.

✞⛧ She notices the way you stare at food sometimes, like it’s the enemy. The way you poke at it, move it around your plate, take tiny bites. It breaks her heart, but she never makes you feel ashamed.

✞⛧ When you’re feeling particularly low, she doesn’t ask you to eat—she just holds your hand, rubs her thumb over your knuckles, and reminds you she loves you no matter what.

✞⛧ She gets extra protective when she hears others making comments about food, weight, or body image. She hates that society still has a hold on people like that, even after the world ended.

✞⛧ If someone ever makes a rude comment about your eating habits, Abby sees red. “Mind your own fucking business,” she growls, stepping in front of you like a shield.

✞⛧ She takes time to learn everything she can about eating disorders. Finds old books, asks around, even talks to Yara about nutrition. Anything to understand what you’re going through.

✞⛧ She starts meal prepping with you, making it a bonding activity rather than a chore. “You don’t have to eat it if you’re not ready,” she assures you. “But let’s make something together, yeah?”

✞⛧ She makes sure your shared space is safe—no triggering conversations, no pressure, just love and understanding.

✞⛧ She learns the subtle signs of when you’re struggling—zoning out, irritability, dizziness—and steps in before things get bad. “C’mere, babe. Let’s sit for a second.”

✞⛧ She makes a habit of bringing you tea, especially when your stomach is hurting. “It’s warm,” she says, pressing the cup into your hands. “Just sip it, no pressure.”

✞⛧ If you have bad body image days, Abby will worship you. Kisses every inch of you, murmurs soft praises against your skin, makes sure you know how loved and beautiful you are.

✞⛧ When you have moments where you feel guilty about eating, she reassures you: “Food isn’t the enemy, babe. It keeps you strong. And I need you strong, okay?”

✞⛧ She’s a big spoon kind of girlfriend, always holding you close, always making sure you feel secure.

✞⛧ She starts cooking more, experimenting with different meals to find things that don’t overwhelm you. “Tell me what looks good to you,” she says, flipping through an old cookbook she found

✞⛧ If eating is too hard some days, she doesn’t push—you can just lay in her arms, and she’ll remind you that one bad day doesn’t erase all your progress.

✞⛧ She gives the best pep talks. “You’re doing so good, babe. Even on the hard days. I’m proud of you.”

✞⛧ If you’re feeling self-conscious about eating in front of others, she’ll make sure you have private meals together. “Just us, okay? No pressure.”

✞⛧ She’ll distract you during meals—talking about her day, telling you dumb jokes, playfully nudging your foot under the table—to take the stress off eating.

✞⛧ She makes sure you never feel alone in this. If you wake up in the middle of the night feeling guilty or anxious, she’s already pulling you into her chest, whispering, “I’ve got you.”

✞⛧ On days when eating feels impossible, she reminds you that small steps are still steps. “A few bites is still progress. I’m proud of you.”

✞⛧ She celebrates your victories, no matter how small. “You ate half of it? That’s amazing, babe.”

✞⛧ If you start spiraling, she grounds you—holding your face in her hands, pressing her forehead to yours, whispering, “You’re safe. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

✞⛧ She never lets you feel like a burden. “You’d do the same for me,” she reminds you when you apologize for struggling. “And I love taking care of you.”

✞⛧ If you ever relapse, she never gets mad. She just holds you close and says, “We’ll try again tomorrow, okay?”

✞⛧ She’s your biggest supporter, your protector, your safe place. And no matter what, she’ll always be right by your side.

[colorlessjay]

I imagine that when s16 Dean pops back, s16 Cas will mention some super boring thing he and s6 Dean did together and be jealous. Hit tweet

Jealous Dean is a flavor of Dean I can never get enough of. Is it cliche? Yes. Can it be toxic? absolutely. Do I still seek it out in tags because it scratches the itch in my brain that goes 'hehehe'? almost daily

So here's my brain worms:

Dean's not an insecure man

okay because he is, but he's been working on it and Cas has definitely helped with his self-esteem over the years

And-

fuck it he's jealous. He's jealous and cranky about it and it's all his own fault

"Dean"

"What?" Dean snaps, jaw clenched as he sulks on his nice leather recliner. Yes, he's sulking. Shut up

"You're upset"

"Thanks, Captain Obvious"

"And Bitchy"

"Next you're gonna tell me I have a dick and balls"

Cas does a full-body eye-roll at Dean. Damn it it's cute but Dean's pissy and he's gonna stay pissy for as long as he can help it

"Years of marriage and being by your side, and your behavior still somehow alludes me." Cas places his book down on the coffee table before grunting. "All this crankiness over me baking your younger self a pie"

Dean can feel his heckles raise just at the thought. Because knowing Cas, it was that special honey apple pie he only bakes on Dean's birthday. That the little fucker (the asshole that is his younger self) didn't shower his husband in love and praise the second he got served a slice (not that Dean wanted his younger self to, only he got to do that). A slice made by the hands of a literal Fallen Angel of the Lord, blessed by God himself (Jack usually taste tested)

Dean sinks further into his recliner like the leather is eating him, all while Cas stands by his side, hands on his hips in a now familiar pose of annoyance, a single brow raised as he expects a reply

Jokes on Cas. That only turns Dean on

not the time

"Yeah well, the ungrateful shit didn't deserve it"

"The 'ungrateful shit' you speak of mowed our lawn, walked our dog and made me breakfast. All while trying to find a way back to his own timeline"

"Yeah well, I could've done all of that"

Cas gives him the 'Are you serious?' "You did, both 15 years ago and last week, at the same time. May I remade you, you are being jealous of yourself?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"It's ridiculous"

"It's not"

"it is" Cas insists, sounding exasperated, rolling his eyes again. Dean wants to kiss away the scrunch between his brows... Focus up, Winchester! "You have absolutely nothing to be jealous of"

"Oh so I got nothing to be jealous of when my hot angel husband was left alone with a sexually confused pent-up Hunter?" Dean scoffs and turns his head away "'slike the start of a shitty porno... Only I'm not playing the Hunter"

Dean grunts as a familiar weight lands on his lap, making him sink further into the recliner. Big hands gently grab his jaw and turn his head, locking eyes with those beautiful blue eyes that always hum with angelic grace

"Dean. You have nothing to be jealous of" Cas says slow and firm, like he's punctuating every word. His eyes dance with amusement as he stares Dean down "You wanna know why?"

Dean gulps, feeling his heart flutter already as he's hands find familiar purchase on Cas' hips "yeah..."

"Because" Cas leans close, breathing the words over Dean's lips "-

-------

-------

-------

So I realized there wasn't a part of this I could cut off so imma stop myself here and go to sleep

anyways, good night :D

[harrywavycurly]

Worst Mob Boss Ever: Book Club

Part 1: Here

A/N: I wasn’t planning on a part 2 but here we are because I got hit with inspiration, so enjoy✨

CW: Language, mentions of Harry’s “job”, mentions of past violent acts (broken nose), multiple “threats” of violence towards one person.

Tag List: @mema10 @angeldavis777 @outofthisworl-d @howling-wolf97 @umadirectioner @fangirl509east

Summary: Harry joins you for book club and it doesn’t go the way he imagined it would ✨

“They aren’t going to let you in dressed like that.” You warn the tall green eyed man who is standing next to you holding your slippers outside the parked car that’s currently in a driveway of a house he’s never been to before. Harry quirks a brow as he looks down at his suit, not sure why his attire would keep him from being able to enjoy an evening discussing a subpar romance novel. You shake your head and give Mitch a glare as you grab your backpack off the floor of your car. “You better bring it back with a full tank or I’m kicking your ass.” Your brother just rolls his eyes as he watches you sling a strap of your bag over your shoulder.

“Just call me when it’s done.” You just nod and go to close the door. “And uh tell Sydney I said-” You close the door on him before he can finish his sentence making him laugh as you shoot him the bird before turning and facing the house.

“May I ask what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” You ignore Harry as you make your way up the path that leads to the front door of your bestfriend’s house. “Do they have an issue with Gucci or something?” He asks as he follows closely behind you while Mitch begins to back out of the driveway so he can go run the errands he needed to borrow your car for.

“I told you this is a cozy book club meaning you can’t just show up in a suit and honestly no one gives a shit if it’s Gucci or not.” You explain to him as you take the pair of slippers out of his hands that you made him hold for you while you got the rest of your stuff from the car.

“If I take the jacket off and roll up the sleeves it can give cozy vibes.” He offers making you roll your eyes because both of you know that nothing will make his suit look cozy.

“Just don’t embarrass me this-” Harry’s attention moves from you to the front door of the house as it swings open revealing someone he hasn’t seen in months, dressed in a matching pink and white stripped pajama set and white slippers.

“What the actual fuck is Harry Styles doing on my front porch?” You look at Morgan and then over your shoulder to Harry who looks more amused than annoyed or even shocked at her question.

“Good to see you too Morgan.” He greets your bestfriend with a smile making her cross her arms over her chest as she glares at him.

“I must have died and gone to hell because there is no way this is actually happening.” You raise an eyebrow at her as you try to ever remember her ever mentioning knowing Harry but you come up empty as the two of them just stare at one another.

“Uh how do you know him?” You ask making Morgan finally acknowledge you and you could laugh at how her face changes from a scowl to a soft smile as soon as her eyes meet your, but then she lets out an annoyed huff as she looks away from you so she can go back to glaring at the man behind you.

“That’s my cousin’s old boss. I met him at a holiday party a year or so ago.” Harry can’t help but feel his jaw clench as she motions at him with one of her red acrylic nails, not liking the tone she’s using at all. “He’s an asshole and-”

“I’m an asshole? Your cousin was the asshole or did you forget the reason why he no longer works for me?”

“So he borrowed some money-”

“I didn’t know stealing was the same thing as borrowing?”

“He paid it back.”

“Yeah after I broke his nose and threatened to beak his kneecaps with a crowbar.” Your eyes go wide as Harry tells Morgan what he did to her cousin as if it’s the most casual conversation he’s had all day. But to your surprise all Morgan does is place her hands on her hips and narrow her eyes at him while Harry just stands there unbothered.

“Oh please as if you ever do anything yourself you had Frank do it for you.” She snaps at him making Harry let out a chuckle as he shakes his head in disbelief that of all the people in this city you could be friends with you somehow manage to pick someone who can’t stand him and all because he fired her cousin for stealing from him. And if Harry’s being honest she’s lucky her cousin is even still breathing but he’d never voice that out loud to her since she’s already looking at him like she wants to strangle him with her barehands.

“Frank? You think I sent Frank to deal with your idiot cousin? I wouldn’t trust him with my coffee order.” You feel like you’ve been standing on Morgan’s front porch for an hour when in reality it’s only been a few minutes but you decide in this moment you’ve heard enough and just want to go inside and change out of your work uniform.

“I’m going to go change while the two of you finish catching up.” Morgan looks at you and smiles as she moves to the side giving you enough space to walk through her front door, leaving her alone with Harry on the porch.

“Listen Morgan I’m not here to talk about your cousin or work I’m just here for book club.” Harry’s voice is calm and controlled, it doesn’t hold a single bit of the annoyance he has bubbling inside of him right now as he watches you enter the house and turn down a hallway so you’re no longer in his line of sight. Doing his best to hide the fact he doesn’t enjoy not being able to see you, he is willing to say whatever he needs in order to get inside the house.

“Fine but you’re not stepping a foot inside my house until you explain why you’re here with my bestfriend who doesn’t have anything to do with you or your business.” Harry can tell by her voice that she’s serious, she would make him sit outside on the porch all night until he gave her the details she’s looking for so he just nods before running a hand through his hair.

“I got into her car thinking it was mine and now here we are.” Morgan gives him a look that lets him know she isn’t buying a single word he’s saying.

“You got into her car thinking it was yours? Why because it’s a big black suv?” Morgan furrows her brows as Harry lets out an annoyed sigh and just shrugs in response making her roll her eyes. “God you’re such a narcissist.”

“So I’ve been told.” He says with a smirk as he remembers a very similar conversation he had with you earlier.

“You can’t come in dressed like that.” Morgan states as she eyes his suit and Harry for a moment considers just using your phone so he can call Eric to come get him but he really wants to see what this book club is all about since you were willing to risk your life by threatening his head of security just to get to it on time.

“Sorry I missed the memo that went over the dress code but this is all I have.” He explains making Morgan rub her lips together as she contemplates several options in her head, and when she finally gives Harry a smirk he knows he’s not going to like what she’s about to tell him.

“Fine just lose the jacket and you have to wear slippers.”

“I don’t wear slippers.”

“Then you don’t come inside.” Morgan watches Harry run a hand over his face as he lets out a sigh of defeat before looking at her and motioning towards the front door.

“Fine lead the way then.” She smiles and turns around to lead him into the house. “Just please don’t make them fuzzy.”

You walk out of Morgan’s bedroom finally feeling a bit more relaxed now that you’re out of your work clothes and in your gray sweat-shorts and pink t shirt, you smile as you walk down the hall and can hear the sound of Sydney’s voice. When you turn to go into the living room you feel like you just entered a weird alternate universe because Harry is sitting on the couch with his sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows, his suit jacket hung over the armrest of the couch, a pair of red and white fuzzy slippers with hearts all over them on his feet that are propped up on Morgan’s ottoman and a glass of wine in his hand. You look over to his left and see Sydney sitting next to him with her back against the armrest so she’s facing him with her wine glass clutched in both hand as her eyes go wide with a wild kind of excitement at something he just said.

“Wait you like-you can do that?” Sydney asks making Harry just nod in response as he takes a sip of his wine while you walk over to the loveseat across from the couch.

“He can do what?” You ask making Harry’s eyes travel across the room until they find yours and you ignore the small flutter your heart does when he gives you a smile as if he hasn’t seen you in ages when it’s just been ten minutes.

“He can beat up Johnny for me.” Sydney answers with an excitement you haven’t heard from her ever since her ex, Johnny cheated on her a few weeks ago.

“I’m surprised you haven’t done it yourself.” He’s looking at you as he speaks and you roll your eyes as you lean over to grab the bottle of wine off the coffee table so you can pour yourself some but Harry is quicker than you so he beats you to it. Placing his own glass down on the coffee table, he picks up the bottle of white wine and an empty glass. “You’re quite scary when you’re annoyed so I can’t image how terrifying you could be to someone who really pissed you off.” He adds as he holds the full glass of wine out for you to take, an annoying grin on his face.

“She tried but he-” Sydney begins but then pauses to take a sip of wine.

“He what?” All the lightheartedness leaves Harry’s voice as he turns to look at Sydney and she swallows the sip of wine in her mouth before she turns to look at you which makes Harry follow her gaze, his green eyes a shade darker as they stare into yours. You want to laugh at how serious he is but you don’t, you oddly find it kind of nice knowing he seems upset at the mere idea of someone doing anything to you.

“He called the cops on me.” You answer for Sydney with a chuckle as you lean back into the cushions of the loveseat, doing your best to get comfortable.

“That’s because Johnny is a little bitch who was scared shitless the moment he saw you pull up into his driveway with that baseball bat.” You roll your eyes as Morgan explains what happened as she walks into the living room and places a tray of snacks down on the coffee table. Harry can’t fight the small smile that works its way onto his face as he imagines you in a fit of rage pulling up to someone’s house holding a baseball bat.

“Well he sure didn’t seem scared when I used it to smash his windshield. Seemed more angry than anything.” Harry takes a moment to look around the living room, as far as book clubs go he feels like it’s on the smaller side since it’s only the three of you and then him but he also for some reason feels the same way he does when he enters a meeting that’s just with his top men. So he can’t even stop himself before he says what comes to his mind next.

“Are you lot in a gang? Is that what this book club is actually for? Just a cover up for your meetings to discus who needs to be met with a baseball bat in their driveway?” All three of you look at him with playful glares making him just quirk a brow when Morgan takes a sip of her wine and looks away from him first so she can go into the kitchen to grab some napkins.

“Do you not have friends Harry? Because not every group of friends that are willing to go to jail for each other is a gang.” Sydney asks as she reaches over and gently places a hand on Harry’s knee and you have to rub your lips together to keep the laugh inside when you watch her give his knee a nice reassuring pat. “If you don’t that’s fine you’re like a big deal so-”

“Don’t feed his ego please he’s actually the worst mob boss ever he doesn’t even have a phone.”

“You don’t have a phone?”

“I have a phone I just don’t have it on me right now.”

“What? So how do your uhm people know where you’re at?”

“I had to-”

“He called his security guy on my phone.”

“Oh is he cute? This security guy?”

“He had a nice phone voice.” You answer with a shrug before taking a sip of your wine while Harry has to bite his tongue to keep him from saying the worst things about Eric just to keep your friend away from him and for you to want to take back the thing about his nice phone voice. “His name is Eric.”

“Eric? Oh I know Eric. He’s your type Syd.” Morgan states as she places the napkins down and finally takes her spot next to you with her wine glass, she gives Sydney a playful wink making her let out a laugh.

“You can do better than Eric he’s not the best when it comes to dating someone.”

“I didn’t say I was tying to date him Harry.” Sydney mumbles as she takes her hand off his knee making you lean your head back and laugh when you see Harry close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose with his free hand as the realization of what Sydney actually means hits him.

“Well I have no comment on how he performs in that department.” He answers as he brings his wine glass up to his lips to take a rather large sip.

“But seriously you’d like-like really have someone beat Johnny up for me?” Sydney asks shyly as if she doesn’t fully believe that Harry has the connections or the time to deal with her ex boyfriend who he doesn’t even know. You look at Morgan because she’s the only other person in the room that knows what Harry does for a living and the type of people he’s associated with, she’s already looking at you and playfully wiggles her eyebrows as she sips her wine.

“Syd he could have Johnny more than just beat up.” Morgan says as she looks away from you and over to the girl who is now looking at Harry with a suspicious expression on her face. “He could have him swimming with the fishes if you know what I mean.” Sydney’s eyes go wide while Harry as usual looks completely unbothered as he turns his head so he can look at the girl who now seems a bit concerned with how close she’s sitting to him now that she knows what he’s capable of.

“The term is swimming with the fishes.” Harry corrects with a gentle smile while still looking at Sydney, Morgan just lets out a huff as she leans over to grab an apple slice from the snack tray on the coffee table. “And while yes I could make that happen I don’t really think it would be necessary in this situation.” You watch in amusement as Sydney stares at Harry with a hand clutching her chest and the other holding onto her wine glass for dear life.

“Okay well what would you do to him then?” You ask out of pure curiosity because you want to know what sort of punishment he thinks is fitting for Johnny, hoping it’s nothing too disturbing since he’s already mentioned to you how he has cars blown up with people he doesn’t like or sees as a threat as if it’s no big deal.

“Well in situations like these death is too nice so you simply make them wish for death just so the torture can end.” Harry doesn’t want to come off too harsh or make any of the girls in the room fear him, especially you so he does his best to make his tone soft and gentle even if the words are far from either of those things. But given how Morgan’s mouth is slightly hung open and Sydney’s eyebrows are almost raised so high they are hitting her hairline he would say his method didn’t work as well as he intended.

“Holy shit.”

“Did you-you say torture?”

“Jesus Harry you can’t talk about torturing someone so badly they beg for death while wearing fuzzy slippers at a spicy book club meeting.” Your words have Harry looking down at his feet and immediately rolling his eyes at the horrendous slippers that Morgan forced him to wear just so he could gain entry to her house.

“I’m sorry I just-”

“You’d be willing to do that? For me?” Everyone’s heads turn to look at Sydney, Harry feels an anger beginning to burn inside of him as Sydney looks at him with eyes that tell him she’s not used to people being so willing to do things for her let alone have someone hurt on her behalf and he knows it’s because no one has treated her the way she deserves.

“It’s the least I could do for you love.” He answers making a small blush creep its way onto her cheeks. “And if I’m being honest I wouldn’t really be doing it for you. I’d be doing it for myself because he just sounds like someone who needs to be taught a lesson or two on how to treat someone.” If there’s one thing Harry truly hates it’s men who don’t know how to treat their partners and this Johnny fellow doesn’t even know he just earned himself a spot on Harry’s shit list.

“So you’d handle it personally then?” Morgan asks with a quirked brow because she knows Harry almost never gets his hands dirty anymore unless he’s given no other choice.

“Yes I’d do it myself just like I did with your cousin.” Harry says as he glances at Morgan and gives her a look that tells her he’s not lying, he really is the one who broke her cousin’s nose.

“As long as you’re the one doing it I’m fine with it.” Sydney states nonchalantly as she leans over to grab a cracker off the snack tray.

“I do have one condition though.” He says with a smug like smile on his face as his attention shifts from Morgan over to you.

“A condition? You don’t get to negotiate something you offered to do in the first place Harry. How are you an actual mob boss? You really are the worst.” You argue as you glare at him making that annoying grin spread across his face, the one that makes his dimple appear and the butterflies to go off in your tummy.

“You have to agree to go to dinner with me next week.” You feel your eyes go wide as your mouth drops open while Morgan and Sydney stare at Harry with equally just as shocked expressions.

“Oh fuck off Harry I’ve already been held hostage by you in my own car and now you want to trap me into going to dinner with you just so you’ll beat up Johnny? You’ve lost your mind.”

“I haven’t lost anything. I’m just going off that old saying of if you’re good at something don’t do it for free.”

“We aren’t offering up our friend as payment for you to almost kill someone Harry. Don’t be fucking gross.” Morgan says in your defense but Harry doesn’t pay her any attention, his eyes still set on yours as he waits for your answer.

“Yeah Harry you’re acting like one of those poorly written romance novel mafia bosses who kidnap the girl they like and force them into a weird marriage and we are very much anti forced anything around here.” Sydney adds making both you and Morgan giggle as her worlds become a bit jumbled towards the end due to the fact she tries to take a sip of wine while still speaking.

“I’m not forcing her into anything she can say no and that would be fine.” You bite your bottom lip as Harry stares at you.

You let out a long sigh before you take a sip of wine to help calm your nerves as you contemplate your options, you know Harry is involved in a world you’ve only really read about or watched movies depicting the violence that takes place in it but you also know there’s a subtle softness to him. Because even now the man is at a book club drinking shitty wine and wearing slippers all so he could spend the rest of the evening with you. Once you’ve made your choice you lean over and place your glass on the table before crossing your arms over your chest as you stare back at him.

“I’m not going to dinner with you until after you do whatever it is you’re going to do to Johnny.” You counter his original offer making him narrow his eyes at you a bit clearly not expecting you to be try to negotiate with him.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it? You’re not going to argue with me about it or anything?”

“Nope.” His answer makes you raise an eyebrow because it’s a bit unnerving how quickly he accepted your offer. “If you try to flake out on me I know where to find you.” He adds as a gentle reminder that he knows where you work and what kind of car you drive. While Harry is busy looking at you he doesn’t notice Sydney’s hand coming up to smack him upside the head causing his eyes to narrow as he turns and gives her a harsh glare but she doesn’t even seem the least bit bothered by it as she’s also glaring at him.

“You can’t threaten her while also asking her out on a date Harry god you are the fucking worst at this.” You have to bring a hand up to cover your mouth so your laughter doesn’t spread throughout the room as Sydney lets Harry have it. “Like seriously learn some manners.” She adds with a huff as she gets comfortable on her side of the couch.

“See what I mean? Worst mob boss ever.” You say with a laugh making Harry roll his eyes as he turns his attention back to you.

“Are we going to actually discuss the book or just sit here and give Harry a list of people we need him to hurt for us?” Morgan asks as she motions to the book in question that’s sitting next to the snack tray on the coffee table.

“For every name you add to the list it’s another dinner she has to go to with me.” He explains knowing it will make you all huffy and annoyed, something he’s coming to enjoy even though he knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help that he likes the way your eyes get this little glimmer in them when you look at him while frustrated with something he’s said or done.

“So the book it is then.” You answer for everyone making Harry chuckle as you reach for your copy that has your bookmark on the page you left off at, deciding for the rest of the girls that one dinner with Harry is all you’re willing to do at this point. So when they both just nod and grab their own books you let out a small sigh of relief because you know deep down that the more time you spend with Harry the more you’ll probably end up enjoying it and you can’t have that because who wants to enjoy the company of the worst mob boss ever? Certainly not you.

[visenyaism]

the way they adapted myranda is maybe one of the wildest choices got made like?? why did they do that was Iwan playing ramsay a bit to gay so they gave him a girlfriend and took the name from one of sansa vale character very strange move

Do you wanna know a secret? I have never actually seen season five through seven of Game of Thrones. I did not watch any of the show until 2019 when the bass trombonist next to me in college orchestra decided to watch seasons one through four to prep for season eight coming out that June and offered me an AirPod to watch it off the stand during rehearsal. This is terrible rehearsal etiquette I know and I would not have said yes except for she was really pretty and I thought she was cool plus I played the tuba which in full symphonic orchestra repertory meant that no one really ever needed me for anything other than bottoming out chord support so like once every 45 to 50 minutes so I was like sure. And it was really good.

But then it was June and I was like well. I’ll just watch season eight now so I don’t get spoiled I read like half of a feast for crows in middle school so I’ll get back to the rest of it. And season eight was so abysmal in every way. And since then I’ve just been like well what’s the fucking point I can’t watch them butcher my favorite book so I just never bothered to watch it.

All this being said they did WHAT to Myranda????? She’s Ramsay’s SAW TRAP GIRLFRIEND???

[beatlblog]

#it’s not your fault you’re good at everything#apart from acting#and counting (via @javelinbk)

#most annoying boy award#Pete we want the tea (via @beatledumpsterster)

#he got all the not-goods kicked out and brought in george#I feel bad for colin and pete though. ouch.#I always felt bad for shotton anyway since paul burst onto the scene & stole his best friend away into some weird soulmate trap for 23 years (via @majinmelmo)

#actually hilarious to me that pete thinks paul was the bad influence#bc in petes book he claims george thought pete would be a bad influence when he came to work for apple/john#but i generally think why was boss paul news to john and george in 69#what’s that drums tag ab how john suddenly realizes how annoying paul is in nyc bc yoko broke his spell#johns friends being like who the fuck does he think he is and john being like he’s alright#i will go with his mean tricks and then apologize for him#this is what we do (via @get-back-homeward)

#most annoying guy in liverpool gets more annoying (via @thestarsarecool)

#I just love Paul being like… on me and John are gonna wear jackets (via @sleeper9)

#Norman is a bit light on the details isn’t he the wanker (via @beatlepaul4ever)

#‘they could never make me hate you boss baby Paul’ - John Lennon (via @pauls1967moustache)

#paul and yoko should have been bitchy besties (via @cherubina)

#“john was the asshole while paul was diplomatic” they were both unbearable. pass it on.#what the hell did they do to pete for john to apologize...#it reminds me of that one story where pete was mad at john & john showed up in his bike with his head down (via @lonainfield)

#john you have to stop letting your girlfriends take over the band#why was that a pattern for you? (via @the-electric-monk)

#in interviews the quarrymen all have good and bad things to say about john paul george each other#colin is quite bitter about nigel walley’s nagging (via @torchlitinthedesert)

Shout!: The True Story of the Beatles (Philip Norman)

15-year-old Paul McCartney joining the Quarrymen and immediately bossing them all around will never not be my fave thing <3

[sturnlsstuff]

TEASING GHOSTFACE!MATT THROUGH THE CAMERA.

[smut, masturbation]

matt's room was cloaked in darkness, save for the faint glow of the monitor in front of him, casting an eerie light on his face. his skin burned with the heat of his focus, his gaze locked in your every move. every inch of matt taut with the need to bridge the space between you two, but he was too mesmerized and hard to move, so all he could do was watch.

a heat crept through you as your fingers run along your slick folds, a quiet gasp falling from your lips. the desire you felt was bigger than ever, mostly caused by the awareness of matt watching you. he was always watching, sometimes making you cover the camera that was between your books on the shelf opposite your bed, but other times, in moments like these, you took advantage of him being able to see you— and you made him lose his mind.

it should've made you nervous, but instead, it made you feel alive. the confidence you had at that moment made power surged through your veins, a dark little secret shared between you two. matt was craving, desperate to consume every inch of you, and you feel it, that undeniable pull— his hunger, his obsession. and you were feeding it.

your gut is raveling with the growing pleasure, your fingers circling your dripping entrance, legs spreading wider to be on full display for him. a small whimper leaving your lips, making matt groan as his hand was already working on his hard length, his pulse throbbing in his ears, the rhythm of his breathing unsteady.

he strokes himself slowly, matching your teasing, his blue eyes locked on the monitor just as you push two fingers inside your pussy. matt's grip on the armchair tightened as he watches you pumping your fingers in and out. you were so wet that he was able to hear it even through the computer as you continued.

"oh my god, matt... wish it was you touching me right now—" you choke out, circling your clit with the other hand. your eyes squeezed shut, there was no point in guessing of who you were thinking about, since it was pretty obvious.

he moans after hearing your words, the pink hue tinting his cheeks, his hand moving faster now, more desperately. his thumb brushes over the head of his cock, his grip tightening as he starts pathetically bucking his hips in rhythm with the growing ache in his stomach. "fuck, sweetheart... drivin' me crazy..." he growls just as you whimper his name again. the power you had over him made the lust burn hotter, more insistent. he keeps fucking his hand, not being able to look away from the monitor, his shirt between his teeth to muffle his noises.

"mmhp— so good—" another desperate whine leaving your lips as you curl you fingers, hitting your g-spot and making your toes curl. you bend your knee, your back arching up, exposing yourself to matt even more and giving him a better look.

"oh, shit, gonna... gonna make me cum..." his voice hoarse, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. he throws his head back, but his eyes still remain on the computer, not wanting to lose any second of watching you, his hips constantly moving upwards as he continues jerking off. you move your fingers deeper and faster, completely unaware of matching his movements, your jaw hanging low, eyebrows knitted together in pleasure.

"m-matt, i... i'm so close—"

"come f'me, sweetheart, c'mon...." he mutters to himself, his dick twitching in his grasp. "f-fuck, keep... keep going..."

it's definitely a sight, the way you're fucking yourself on your fingers, your gummy walls sucking them in, the other hand circling your swollen bud. but it's when he hears your next words that he loses the last control he had.

"thinking of your cock deep inside me— miss this... miss you— fuck, please—"

a loud groan leaving his lips, his chest heaving, "shiiiittt—" he chases his release, his movements erratic. there's a moan of your name leaving his lips just as cum spurts out of his cock, painting his skin.

"need to... feel you— please, matt—" you cry out just as your legs start to tremble, your pussy throbs. you're completely a mess, the pleasure that overcomes you is so intense that it leaves you gasping for air. you try your best not to close your legs as you start creaming around your fingers, letting him see everything, your fingers moving in the same pace as you work yourself through your orgasm. "fuck, i can't..." your legs automatically close, your hips lifting from the bed to start grinding against your hand.

for the next moment, both rooms are filled with heavy breathing, the air around you thick. both of you breathless, his skin burning with the ache of want, his chest tightened with a raw, possessive need— matt couldn’t just watch anymore. he needed to be there, to close the distance, to feel you under his hands as always.

"little fuckin' tease," he pants, and sends you a short message.

your phone buzzed just as you come down from your high, pulling your covered in slick fingers out of your pussy. you reach for the device blindly, still trying to come down to earth after the release you just had.

matt 🥷🏻🔪 ;

Gonna be there in 10 leave your doors unlocked

divider credits. @anitalenia

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck @jocelyncsblog @sophand4n4 @giannalovessturniolo @alesturniolos @ilovenmcs @seluky10 @chriss-slutt @ribbonlovergirl @icrazy106 @izzylovesmatt @trevorsgodmother @sturniolo101 @starstrucktyrantinfluencer