#my best friend has been playing the series and started the third one not too long ago

[arbitrarykiwi]

Third Times a Charm: Oral Fixation 2/3

Nam-Gyu (Player 124) x AFAB reader smut series

Summary: you ran into him three separate times. First was at a party, second time was at a club. And like his favorite drugs, he was addicted. The third time? Well he wasn’t going to let you get away so easy. Third times a charm and he was going to get his fix. ((Non-squid games au))

Warnings: Smut (18+), LONG (y'all.. I went over board: 6.4k words), id say this is significantly more debauched than the first chapter, alcohol use, drug use, substance mixing, stalker! Nam-Gyu themes (he finds your info online), porn with plot (long intro, there is a divider added for convenience if you wish to skip to the fuckin') , oral (m receiving), choking, dirty talk, name calling ((this chap. is significantly more gendered than the first one)) (pretty girl, good girl, whore and slut used once), face fucking, sugar daddy! Nam-Gyu themes, spitting, cum play, breath play, he’s nasty- got a filthy mouth on him, brief mention of death threats (he threatens somebody for interrupting y'all), proof read but I am dyslexic, there's prolly more- read at your own risk

Previous chapter: Taste Test 1/3

Next chapter: Bodytalk 3/3

AN: gonnna be so real yall, music inspo for this fic is São Paulo ft. Anitta by The Weekend…if you wanna read it with the fic be my guest 😋 (best time to start it is when yall meet again in da club)

The second time you ran into him was at a club.

It has been about two weeks since your interaction with him. Nam-Gyu. To say that he was all you thought about would be putting it lightly. The thought, the feel, the scent of him, was all you could think about.

Figuring with just a name to go off of and the drugged out crowd you often hung around, your luck of finding him was slim to none. You tried to search him up, nothing. All searches took you to was links about a ‘Club Pentagon’.

You tried to go out with some men, often finding yourself repulsed anytime they put your hands on you. Pushing them away and calling a cab to just go back home and get yourself off. None of those guys seemed worth your time- you’d just be thinking about him anyway.

His hands felt better. His lips felt better. He felt better.

You found yourself in your room, with a half smoked blunt hanging between your fingers as you scrolled through social media aimlessly. While scrolling you watched as a notification popped up at the top of your screen, your phone resonating a ‘ping’- a text from your friend asking you to go out to, none other than, Club Pentagon. You clicked the notification with a speed you didn’t know you had.

A reply is sent quick, agreeing to meet her at the club in a few hours. You stood up off your bed, taking a drag of the blunt you rolled- getting ready or not, you can’t waste it!

In the span of a couple hours you got ready, dolling yourself up in the best outfit you could think of. One of your favorite dresses, the one that was just a little too short but fit oh so perfect. You hope by some grace of the universe- he’s there. And with the chance that he may be there…you wanted to take a little extra time with your makeup.

After finishing off your blunt, taking more than a couple shots, and a excecuting perfect face of makeup- you’re calling a taxi with a nice buzz and making your way to Club Pentagon.

The night is cool when you step out the taxi. You pay and thank the cab driver, turning to find your friends in the long line of people. It doesn’t take long, they find you. They yell your name from the crowd, excitedly pulling you into the line. “God damn!! You look good!” One of your friends cheers, you laugh and give a little twirl. The group you find yourself in catches up, chatting, while walking slowly with the line of people waiting in queue for the club.

Soon you make it to the entrance, a large bouncer stands near a velvet rope that block the front door of the club. The large neon sign sporting the words ‘Club Pentagon’ flash a vibrant pint that illuminated the area outside the club.

Your group begins filling into a small cluster behind the velvet rope, waiting by the entrance for the rest of the group before heading into the club. Your friend in front of you passed the bouncer, adjusting her pink wristband sporting ‘21+’. It was the usual band bars around here used to signify the person wearing it was of age to drink.

You hand your ID to the bouncer patiently waiting to be let into the club. The bouncer looks to you then to your ID, he seems to re-read it then looks back up to you. “Wait here.” He tells you, stepping away. You look to your friend with a quirked eyebrow, wondering what the hold up is.

Your friend laughs, cupping her hands around her mouth and calling out to the bouncer. “She’s of age officer I swear!!” You reach over to swat her arm to get her to stop. “Bitch c’mon! For one, he’s not an officer. Two, that’s literally what someone with a fake ID would say.” You laugh, already tipsy from the pregame.

The bouncer returns with a chuckle at your friend’s antics. “Not worried ‘bout that girls.” He says to you and your friend with a jovial laugh. “Your name was familiar, saw it on the VIP list.” The bouncer says, to only you this time, placing a lime green wristband on your wrist, on it the acronym ‘VIP’ is printed around the entirety of the paper bracelet.

“Huh?” You say incredulously, you haven’t even been to this club before and you sure wouldn’t pay for a VIP band yourself. You look to your friend group, wondering if they had something to do with it. Their faces mimicked yours, confused, so they obviously had nothing to do with this.

“This must be a mistake- I didn’t pay for this.” You say not wanting to get overcharged. “No mistake Ma’am. One of our club promoters put you on the list personally.” He says opening the red suede rope to let you into the building.

You’re confused, you don’t know any club promoters. But you nod, in thanks to the bouncer as you join your friends. You are still wildly perplexed but not complaining- it’s a free all you can drink ticket! Your friends ‘ooo’ and ‘ahhh’ at you as you walk in with them.

“Which club promoter’s dick did ya suck to get that~” Your friend teases leaning into you, you laugh and shake your head. “Genuinely…no one’s. I have never been here before….the covers always been too high.” You say, your eyes scanning the grand entrance of the club- chandeliers covered the ceilings, various colored lasers reflecting off of the diamonds and dispersing into colored rays that flood the floor.

“Ohhh??? A secret admirer??!!” Your friends giggle as you make your way to the bar. You laugh her off, shaking your leaning on the bar. “For real I can’t imagine who would put me on the list…” You shrug as you all order your first round of drinks.

In your head you’re trying to find any possible reasoning. It’s couldn’t be him, could it?

Anytime you looked up his name, and you typed out those six letters more times than you could count over the weeks, he never came up….but this club that you find yourself at - Club Pentagon- did. Was he a club promoter here? Was he the club promoter that put you on the expensive VIP list?! Even if he was…you didn’t give him your name the last time you saw him. You were pulled away from him before you could even thank him for the mindblowing orgasm he gave you, let alone give him your name.

Your eyes darted around the place, examining the club that you never bothered to come to. Sure the cover was expensive but as you see the extravagant decoration, multiple stages lit up with flashing, multi-colored panels, and intricate carved marble columns throughout the place- the price seemed worth it.

You make good use of the VIP wristband, ordering rounds of shots that were covered by the lime green piece of paper that’s on your wrist. But you still can’t stop thinking of who would have put you on the list.

With the free VIP bracelet came an exclusive area within the club, a small lounge area that was one of many within the establishment. Each VIP with a bracelet and their group got one.

So there you found yourself, getting ready to head to the dance floor after spending some time on the plush leather couch of the sectioned off area.

You can’t count how many shots you’ve taken at the VIP table but you were feeling great. Your friends excitedly stood up, hearing one of their favorite songs come on. You laughed, standing with them to begin to head to the dance floor.

Your friends practically ran to the dance floor, leaving you there laughing at just how fast they made it- drunk and in heels nonetheless. Just when you’re about to leave your table you hear someone clear their throat.

You turn immediately to the person, your eyes widening. “Nam-gyu!” You say with a smile, walking over to him. He’s dressed to the nines, a black suit, a red undershirt that’s unbuttoned revealing his collarbones. He’s leaning against one of the columns that had intricate carvings on it.

He smiles, taking a drag from a blunt that he had. “Well, seems like you finally took advantage of your VIP privileges I gave you.” He says with a wicked grin. Under the flashing lights he looks like a snake ready to strike, it’s alluring in ways you can’t even put into words.

You gravitate towards him, your eyebrows raising as you realize he was the one to give you this VIP pass. “You’re the mysterious club promotor who gave me the VIP?” You question as you walk to him. You come close to him, standing in front of him- looking up at him.

He nods, looking you over like he’s a predator ready to catch his prey. His hand reaches out and dances along your arm in a light motion. You watch as his eyes take all of you in, his teeth catch the corner of his bottom lip. His chest heaves as he takes in a deep breath. You don’t know it but all he can think of is the way your cunt felt around his fingers and the way your cum tasted on his tongue. “Put your name on the list personally.” He responds.

“How’d you-“ You begin to say. He cuts you off, pulling you closer into him by the small of your back. “Find your name?” He says, almost mocking the way you’re sure you would have asked it. It’s a demeaning, taunting tone that does nothing to help the growing warmth in your lower stomach. You nod in response, swallowing thickly as his hand runs down the curve of your ass to grip at flesh.

He laughs, guiding you into the rhythm of the music. The hand that wasn’t gripping your ass held a lit blunt. He brought it up to his mouth and took a long drag. As he does, he doesn’t look away from you. His dark eyes are lit up in an orange hue as the cherry of the blunt rages when he draws in a hit. He drops his hand to his side again.

Smoke rolls out of his mouth in smooth streams as he looks down at you and grins. “Sweetheart, s’not that hard….” He drawls on, leaning down closer to you. A devious smirk spreads across his lips. “I didn’t just get your name, I found your phone number and address too.” He rasps, pulling back after his words to look at you.

He has a mischievous, almost wicked glint in his eyes that has you spinning. You should be freaked out, fighting against him for being some sort of crazed stalker- but you don’t. You keep grinding against him, your hands finding purchase around his neck.

Your eyes scan his, wide and trying to figure out what to do. ‘Cute’ he thinks. It was like your common sense was fighting your desire for him, and it was a battle he loved to watch. “You knew where I lived and had my number…why didn’t you-“

He cuts you off with a squeeze of your ass, once again, his ringed fingers gripping into the flesh as if you’d run away. He brings his hand up in between you two, holding the blunt so that it faces you. You can taste the wrap on your lips.

You look up at him through your lashes in a way that makes him want to forget pleasantries and fuck you here and now. But he restrains himself- nodding his head towards the blunt, his eyes never leaving yours.

When your lips wrap around the blunt and suck in the smoke, you can hear him hiss. He speaks through gritted teeth. “There you go….” He rasps. “Good fuckin’ girl.” He says, it’s a tone that makes you melt, you can hear the hunger in his voice, speaking through gritted teeth as if he was fighting himself from ruining you on the spot.

When you release the blunt and let the smoke billow out of your lips he speaks again, “You’re right,” he says, finally beginning to answer your question, grinning down at you. “I could have texted or showed up to your apartment…” He says as he spins you around against him, pressing your back into his toned chest.

“But I’m not some stalker..” He hums into your ear, hand hands all over you. “..so I just put you, my pretty little thing, on the VIP list. Hoping that you and your group of friends would show up here.” He hums in a low timbre that sends goosebumps up your skin.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you look back over your shoulder to at him.

“How could you have been so sure I would have came here?” You say your hand reaching back around him to entangle your fingers in his hair. You find yourself inhaling his cologne, even with significantly less drugs in your system than when you first met him- the scent is just as intoxicating.

“I wasn’t sure. In all honesty if I had to wait any longer I would have showed up on your door step.” He says, the tone in his voice tells you he’s not lying.

And it just makes you hotter.

“But there’s no need to think about that..you’re here now.” He breathes into your ear, his free hand that wasn’t holding the blunt, moving inwards from your waist, traveling down your stomach to grip at the inside of your thighs.

Wherever his hands go, they leave a trail of white hot fire, the only solace is the small cool sensation from the metal rings adorning his fingers. You arch into him, a small gasp coming out of your mouth at his fingers digging into your thighs, just centimeters away from where you needed them most.

“I was thinking about you…” You squeak out in a weak attempt to respond to him. “Tried to look you up.” You say, your breath hitching, breaking up your words into pathetic syllables as you feel him drag your ass against his growing hard on.

Maybe it was the way you were more coherent, less drugs in your system this time meeting him- or maybe it was the thin fabric of your dress leaving nothing to the imagination as he pressed against you- or maybe it was the way his fingers left you a shaking mess during your last meeting so you couldn’t pay attention - but you swore you could feel his erection against your back better than the last time you had an encounter with him.

And he was thick.

He laughs, the vibration tickling at the skin of your neck. “I’m not one to run around with the best crowd, sweetheart. Don’t need people findin’ me so easy.”

He puts the blunt out in a swift motion on an ashtray nearby. His one hand remains on your hip, the one now free from the blunt runs up your back.

He pushes, causing you to bend over in front of him. It’s raunchy, it’s debauched but you let it happen. His hand continues its path up your back to grip the hair at the base of your neck. The way your hips move in tandem is sinful. Your dress has long since bunched up above your ass, allowing his cock that strains against his pants to rub against your clothed cunt in the most delicious way possible.

You’re bent over in front of him, one of his hands tangled in your hair while the other continues the rhythmic sway of your ass against his erection.

“But I had no worry, I’d knew you’d find me eventually…huh, pretty girl?” He has with a scoff in his voice. “Like you said, been thinking about me….” He growls, his hand that’s in your hair pulls you back against him in a rough movement. You can feel the way his clothed cock is spreading your pussy, allowing the tent in his pants grind up against your clit.

A whine is pulled out of your throat as you press yourself back against him even more. Your head nodding in reply to his words. A low groan resides him his throat has he throws his head back, basking in the feeling of how warm his dick feels pressed against your clothed pussy. The slow grind of your body against his is in time with the music. The loud thrum of the bass only serving to make every moment of this even better.

He pulls you back up by your hair, the arm on your hip wrapping around your torso and caging you into him. “Y’know…I played your little game last time, fair and square. I’d say I impressed you at that little party, wouldn’t you?” He says into your ear as he shifts his hips upwards, deliberately dragging his clothed cock up into you, the only thing keeping him from sinking into your velvety walls was your underwear and his pants.

You let out a choked gasp, feeling yourself clench around nothing. It was embarrassing, yet again, how quick he could get you to come undone. Your lip catches on your bottom lip as you try to grind down into his motions.

His hand releases from your hair and comes up to grip your jaw. “Answer me. Use your words.” He says, his breath ticking your ear. The low growl of his voice is smooth but devilish, a warning. You can feel the way his chest heaves with heavy breaths against your back. A sing that you had just as much of an effect on him that he had on you.

“Y-you did. You impressed me.” You say desperately your words slurred by his hand that grips your jaw. His grip loosens, his head dropping to your neck. His lips dance along your pulse point, tongue leaving a warm, wet trail along the column of your throat to under your ear.

“So then you should agree that I should get a nice little reward, for being so gracious, even after you cheated at your own little game?” He says, his lips tickling your ear. You nod frantically, reaching behind you to palm his erection over his slacks to prove a point of how desperately you needed him.

He growls into your ear, spinning you around to face him before smashing his lips on yours. You whine against him, reciprocating the kiss with equal desperation.

You don’t even realize when he leads you down a hall in a feverish mess of kissing. Your back is pressed against a closed door before he hastily fumbles with the knob.

You both stumble into office in the back of the Club Pentagon- being one of its top promoters had its perks of a private office and Nam-Gyu was going to use it.

It’s a fast paced mess of tongue and teeth. You find yourself turned pressed up against the door, closing it with a soft thud. His hands remove themselves from your waist, coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs rest on your cheeks while his pinky’s are nestled right under your ears. He pulls you to him, as is he’s trying to merge you into him.

His tongue explores your mouth in a skilled way that has your mind melting. You whine against him as he bites your bottom lip. Your hands work in clumsy, jittery movements to unbuckle his belt. He chuckles against you, finding your feeble attempt to rid him of his pants endearing.

He breaks this kiss, his forehead pressed to yours as his hands trail up your sides to your chest, stopping to grope at your breasts. “Eager are we?” He chuckles against your lips.

You kiss him again, the taste of his lips addictive. Pulling away to pout, looking up at him as your hands dance along the buckle of his belt. “Yes. And so what if I am?”

He grins, laughing at your words, his hands that massage your breasts slow their ministrations. His thumbs being to work against your nipples under your shirt. He brushes his thumbs over them in feather light touches, relishing in the feeling of your nipples beginning to harden under his touch. When your breath catches in your chest and you arch into him, he scoffs. “Pretty and sensitive…I’m going to have fun with you.” He says in a degrading tone, enjoying the small hint of an attitude you had being subbed out so quickly by him playing with your nipples.

He kisses you again fervently, hands removing themselves from under your bra to push you backwards by your hips. Your knees buckle when you hit a piece of furniture.

You fall to a sitting position onto a small couch in the room, whining when your lips part from his. He comes close to you, standing between your legs and looking down at you.

His eyes are dark. His hair was tousled, some strands still pushed back with whatever product he used to style it while others fall over his face. He smiles down at you, his hands running over your shoulders, along the sides of your neck to cradle your head.

His hands move up into your hair, tangling into the strands and cranking your neck back to look up at him. He moves even closer. Your chin is touching his lower stomach, forcing you to hold his gaze as he grinds his erection that is painfully hard against in his pants against your neck.

He looks down at you as if you’re a goddess in a renaissance painting. “Aren’t you just a sight…” he muses. His hands leg go of your hair, his warning gaze is enough to keep you in place. One of his hands comes up, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip.

You do it almost instinctively, wrapping your lips around his thumb. Eyes never leaving his as your tongue swirls around the pad of his finger.

His eyebrows raise, the breath he sucks in has your pussy clenching around nothing. “Oh…” He drawls on in a low amused hum. His eyes don’t leave your lips, it’s like he’s transfixed on where his thumb disappears into your warm mouth. “You’re fucking dangerous…” He muses in a low rumble. You can feel the way he grinds his erection into you throat as his thumb massages your tongue.

“C’mon then, I need to be inside your fucking mouth.” He growls, removing his finger from your mouth and quickly getting rid of pants and boxers. He doesn’t even have the patience to rid himself of his clothes, simply pushing them down to his knees.

His cock falls free from its confines and lands heavily in front of you, the tip smacking against your lips with a hearty sound.

Taken aback, you grip the base of his dick with one of your hands pulling your head back to look at it. It’s thick, long, the tip an angry red. The dark hairs at the base trail up his stomach in the most tantalizing line.

He hisses at the contact, you can feel it twitch in your hand. “Please, sweetheart…I’m dying…” He says, an upward cadence to his voice but his words are muffled. You look up from his cock, confused and when your eyes trail up his toned stomach to his face, your mouth is dry.

It’s a beautiful view. He has his red dress shirt is pulled up and out of the way by his teeth. His hair is disheveled, falling around his face and framing it in small shadows. His eyebrows are upturned, watching you- more specifically your mouth in a frenzied look, pleading for you to continue. His sleeves are rolled up revealing tattoos on his forearms that decorate his skin in intricate lines of black and grey.

How could you say no to him?!

Your mouth parts in a slow movement, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. You place his cock on your tongue, smacking the angry tip against your tongue a couple times. Each time, you see his stomach clench as the warm wet feeling of your tongue met his dick.

He watches as you lick him from base to tip, stoping to wrap your plush lips on his the tip of cock. It’s a tease for the feeling of heaven that is your mouth because soon you release him, running your tongue along the underside of dick. The sounds he’s making are sinful, low moans and groans of your name that has your thighs pressing together to ease the ache in your cunt.

He groans, taking his shirt out of his mouth and holing it in one of his hands. His other one makes its way to the back of your head, fisting your hair and yanking your head back.

“Enough of this teasing, sweet thing. You’re still the same slut that let me finger her on the dance floor weeks ago…so you’re gonna act like it, yeah?” He says looking down at you as he begins to jerk his cock over your face.

You smile, it’s a sight that has him gripping his dick tighter. Your mouth drops open, you nod. “That’s right…” he coos, shaking your head by the grip in your hair. “Stick your tongue out.” He demands, punctuating his words by tightening his grip on your hair.

You obey, lolling your tongue out, never breaking eye contact. He leans over you, making you watch as he sucks and then spits into your mouth. You moan out when you feel the taste of his saliva hit your tongue, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in ecstasy. “Swallow.” He demands again. “And fucking look at me when you do it.” He says through gritted teeth.

You open your eyes again, watching him continue to pump his thick cock over your face. You obey, closing your mouth and swallowing his saliva. Your gaze locked to his and its filthy. He stands over you, one hand on the back of your head, the other twisting around his length as he watches you swallow.

“Ohhh….” He coos, his eyebrows knitted together in an upturned expression as he watches you. “That’s it….” He says, taking a step closer to rub the tip of his dick over your plush lips. He grins down at you, his dark eyes trained on you as you stick your tongue back out, running it on the underside of his thick length.

“I don’t even have to ask? Y’know just what to do, huh? How fucking filthy you are…” He mocks in a condescending tone. His hips thrust forward just the tiniest bit, pushing the angry tip of his cock between your lips before pulling out. His eyes trained on the way your lips move around the ridge of his cock-head.

He hisses out a shuddering breath, biting his lip before speaking again, this time his tone drastically different- it’s softer. “You look so pretty like this..” He says in a soft hum, his hand brushing your hair back out of your face in a strangely comforting manner.

He surges his hips forward more, sinking his cock into your mouth. The sound he lets out is sinful. You look up, his head is thrown back, his hand clenching his shirt in a white-knuckled grip. “O-oh fuck…” He hisses.

You begin to bob your head in a steady rhythm, your tongue beginning to memorize every vein along his length. He isn’t quiet, he’s obscene. Every time you move your head up and down his cock he’s chanting praises followed by moans that fuel the wetness that pools in your underwear. You’re sure by this point it’s staining the fabric of the couch you sit on.

His head saga to the side, his eyes back on you. “You can do b-better than that. I know you can.” He says, panting between word, a degrading tone lacing his voice.

He moans as he feels you begin to work harder, your hand coming up to stroke at the length that you didn’t have in your mouth. His hand that’s at the back of your head moves to the side, the hand that’s holds his shirt drops the fabric to mirror his other hand.

Both hands on either side of your skull, he smirks down at you, panting. “You can take it.” He says with a chuckle, it wasn’t a suggestion.

You moan around him at his words, only spurring him on to press you down his length. As your lips inch down his cock he groans, indulging him self in the warm, wet, solace that was your mouth.

He keeps his eyes trained on you, watching as spit begins to spill at the corners of your mouth, creating a ring around his cock every time he pulled your head back and forth. He was simply addicted.

“This….” He’s cut off as you straighten your tongue out, allowing him to begin to sink in the tightness of your throat. “O-oh f-fuck….” He shudders out through clenched teeth, the words aggressive. “T-this is so much better than any fucking drug I’ve done.” He huffs out.

His hands continue to press down. His head falling backwards once more as he uses your mouth. When the head of his cock finally slips past the tight ring of your throat he lets out a moan that is so wicked it has you echoing him. You let out a sound that is between a gag and a moan, it’s debauched. Porn worthy.

His head snaps back forward watching you with a dark look. When he sees that you don’t pull away, and instead look up at him- taking more of him in your throat without the push of his hands- he laughs. It’s a soft sound, one of awe, shock and pride.

“Takin’ me so well…so fuckin’ well.” He says, punctuating his words by returning his hands to the back of your head forcing you all the way down. With your nose pressed into the coarse hairs of his pubic bone your eyes roll back into your skull as you gag and choke around him.

One of the hands on your head drops to your throat, cradling it- feeling where his cock was nestled. Your nails dig into the flesh of his thighs, the restriction of air leaving your pussy practically weeping onto the couch.

He pulls back, his cock pulling out of your throat in a messy string of saliva and his pre-cum. You gasp and cough, looking up at him with watery eyes. “Y-you’re so big…” you choke out in a raspy whine. He looks down at you with a pout, rubbing his hand over your lips, smearing your spit on your face.

“I know, pretty. But you can take it, yeah?” He says, his hand stopping at your cheek, his thumb rubbing a comforting circle. “Mhm.” You say with a nod leaning into his hand.

He smiles down at you, his hands returning to their position to cradle your head. “Gonna let me cum down your throat like my good whore, huh?” He says, the words down right depraved but he has such a soft and sweet tone it has your brain spinning.

You nod, mouth opening again, tongue stuck out- waiting so patiently for him.

The rapid pace is set instantly. His cock enters your mouth, instantly sliding to the back of your mouth. His cock bullies its way down your throat relentlessly. You swear your throat is going to be permanently molded to the shape of his dick. Your tongue flattens more, licking against his balls every time he sinks you to the base of his cock.

“F-fuck, your fucking throat is so tight.” He almost chokes out, his hands working your face against his cock at a meteoric speed. Any time he felt you gag, it just made him fuck your face harder- and you loved it.

He looks down at you, his head lolled to the size, his gaze hazy. “I needa cum in y-your throat so bad..” he says in almost a pleading whine. The desperate hitch to his voice has your eyebrows turning up and eyes rolling back. You moan and gag around him, an attempt to spur him on.

“S’gonna feel so good, balls deep in your fucking throat.” He rambles, his breathing becoming heavier and his thrusts sloppier. “And you’re gonna swallow it all.” He mumbles, more to himself than you but you moan in agreement. A few more thrusts is all he needed before he’s nearing his limit

“I’m going to fucking c-cum…” he chokes out, in a growl, his hands twisting into your hair, forcing your all the way down his cock- holding you at the base, tongue lapping desperately at his balls. He hunches over you, pressing you deeper into him in ways you didn’t think was possible.

You feel it in an instant, the warm spurts of cum that flow out of him, his hips thrusting in shallow movements as he milks his cock in your throat. Despite gagging and choking around him, you swallow, greedily, trying your best not to waste any last drop.

He pulls you off of him, a filthy web of your saliva and his cum connecting his dick to your lips. You choke and gasp, catching your breath. When you find it, you look to him. He’s smiling wide.

“Damn….” He says, his hand that’s not on your head swipes between you two, collecting some of the fluids that string the two of you together. “Messy lil thing aren’t ya?” He hums, bringing his fingers up to his lips to suck the mixture of your saliva and his cum off his fingers.

You giggle, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Not my fault you cum so much.” You tease back. He laughs again hands coming to hold your face, “Uh actually yeah it is…you I think you sucked the soul outta me…” he says, leaning down to kiss you.

It’s messy, but he takes his time, his lips moving in a soft rhythm against yours- almost as if it’s a thanks for the orgasm you gave him.

He pulls back, his hands working to readjust your dress and smooth out your hair. His thumb even swipes under your eyes- a feeble attempt to fix your makeup- but an attempt nonetheless.

You jump when you hear a loud knock on the door, you gasp- knocking the door was unlocked. Nam-Gyu moves himself completely in front of you- shielding you from the door if whoever was knocking happened to barge in. “S’okay.” He soothes, looking back to you. “Locked or not these fucking dumbasses know not to enter in here without me telling them to.” He says with a grin. You giggle, your fingernails still lightly raking against his thighs.

“Hey!” Someone shouts, then another round of knocks. “We got an issue that requires your help out here, boss.” The individual calls. Nam-Gyu groans. “Can it fucking wait?” He calls over his shoulder, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No can do! People out back are trying to lowball us for this batch.” The man calls back. Nam-Gyu looks to the door then back to you. “‘m sorry, princess. Gonna have to take a rain check…” He says, a genuine look of upset in his eyes as he realizes he’s going to have to depart from you.

He reaches down to pull you to stand, kissing you once more. This time it’s slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize the feeling of your lips. You sigh into the kiss, the feeling of his lips on yours makes your body light up in ways you’ve never felt.

He pulls away, working to pull up his pants and boxers, tucking his semi-hard cock into his pants. You look at his cock, pouting, pressing your thighs together. He looks up to you, then down to your thighs. “‘M sorry sweetness, next time it’s all about you. Consider it the last of your payback for leaving me hanging the first time we met.” He says, taking a step back towards you, his hand coming to the back of your neck, pulling you to him and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You coming boss??” The voice calls impatiently from behind the door. “For fucks sake!! Yes. Give me a damn minute.” He yells over his shoulder.

“Wait I don’t have your number. I’m not going to find you again” You say, eyebrows knitted in a worried expression- you lost him once and with dick this good- you couldn’t lose him again.

He finishes up buckling his belt, looking to the wall and into the cracked and dirty mirror that hung there to straighten up his hair. Another loud knock comes at the door. “I’ll be there in a fucking second!” He seethes at the door. “Knock again and I’ll blow your fucking brains out.” He yells in an enraged voice. His face twisted in an annoyed and enraged scowl- a genuine hatred in his eyes that has you scared. The way he was saying it showed that if another knock came, there would be someone’s blood painting the wall.

However, when he turns around to you his face immediately softens. He hurries over to you, his hands cupping your face and shaking his head. “Not gonna have to worry about that, sweet thing.” He coos, brushing your hair, helping to smooth out the evidence of how much he just wrecked you. “I have your number, remember. Promise I’ll text you.” He says with a grin, kissing you once more.

He pulls away, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. He hands you a couple 20’s. “You get home safe. Cabs on me.” He says looking at the bills in your hand before shrugging, placing even more 20’s down into the pile- way more than what you needed for cab fair. “And tomorrow get yourself a gift- on me as well.” He says winking.

Before you can respond he’s walking over to the door of his office and whipping the door open, yelling at the person who was knocking for not having any patience. He pushes the individual who was knocking back from the door way immediately so they wouldn’t see you in your less than appropriate form.

You stand there, heart thudding in your chest as you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips. You open your phone to many missed messages and calls from your friends. Gathering your things, you call them as you walk out to hail a cab- ready to relay all the details about who exactly gave you the VIP wristband.

Tag List: @heyitsayjayy , @chxrrybomb22 , @ziallgff , @ametheslime , @hornyfordaryldixon (( let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for the last part <3 ))

[trustmypoison]

Lean On Me

The three times Jeonghan sticks up for you, and the one time you finally get it.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and stress. Creepy guy in a club.

This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this reaction.

One

You really don’t want to be out at the club right now. You’re not even sure how you ended up here. Your friends can so rarely convince you to come somewhere so crowded and loud. But it’s your friend’s birthday and you felt compelled to dress up and play along, no matter how briefly. You’ve been sipping on the same watered down drink for the last hour while chatting with a few mutual friends who have also shown up. 

Joshua has just walked away, leaving Jeonghan to sip his drink next to you as he eyes you carefully. “Don’t like the drink?” His voice is teasing and it makes you frown a bit. You don’t like that your discomfort is so obvious as he clocks your squirm from one foot to the other immediately. You can tell because he fucking smirks down at you behind his beer.

“Not much of a drinker,” you excuse, trying to sound light, but it comes out through gritted teeth. Every muscle in your body is wound tight from even being here.

“I’ll go get you something different if you’d like. Something a little fruitier to mask the taste.” He’s still watching you like a hawk. His voice is still teasing, but the offer seems genuine, like he’ll turn to the bar as soon as you agree.

Still, you shake your head, twirling the little straw in your glass. All the ice is gone by now, not that you had much of a desire to drink it in the first place. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.” The music is suddenly a little too loud and your ears start to ring. Your breath catches a bit in your throat. “Actually, I’m going to head out. Can you tell them that if they ask?” 

Jeonghan’s eyes drift to your mutual friend, the birthday girl, who is dancing on a table now. “I don’t think they’ll notice. I’ll drive you home, if you want. It’s late and you shouldn’t walk or get a taxi alone.”

You frown at him again. “How much have you had to drink?” 

He raises his mostly full beer a little, “This is my second one.” The neck of the bottle hasn’t even been drained yet. He watches you hestitate. “Nothing more than a ride, I promise. I just want to make sure you make it home okay.”

The DJ has turned up the music just a bit, the bass thumping in your stomach uncomfortably. You place your glass on one of the trays in the corner. “Okay, if you’re sure you’re safe to drive.”

“I’m sure,” he says simply, plopping his bottle next to your glass. He holds out his hand to you and you stare at it, so long that he pulls it back. “Hang on. Don’t want you to get lost in the crowd.”

Your hand loosely finds the back of his shirt as he leads you through the crowd and out the front doors of the club. In the night air, you can breath a little better and he doesn’t say anything about it. Once in the car, he rolls down the windows for you. 

Two

You’re out again, this time to dinner with some friends. You’ve had the misfortune of sitting next to Soonyoung. He’s really so, so sweet and means nothing by it, but he’s been drinking quite a bit before you got here. He gives you a tight hug that has your heart racing in the worst way when you sit down next to him. He greets you warmly none the wiser, and doesn’t seem to notice how you inch away from him. But at the cramped table, there isn’t far to go before you’re bumping elbows with Jeonghan. 

On the other side of Soonyoung, Joshua is doing his best to distract Soonyoung, but the hyperactive man keeps turning to you to talk animatedly. You’re doing your best to be polite, you really are, because you know he would never try to make you uncomfortable on purpose, but some of his awareness is gone because of the alcohol. 

Jeonghan stands after your third clingy hug from Soonyoung and announces, “I’ll get the next round of shots.” He turns to you, speaking a little softer. “Will you come help me?”

Much like the last time at the club, you grab the back of his shirt to get to the bar. He places the order with the bartender and then turns to you. “You looked like you needed a little breather.” 

You huff, hating how transparent you seem to be around him. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan snorts, looking entertained. “You kind of wear it all over your face.”

Someone comes up to the bar behind you, crowding you. Jeonghan’s gently grabbing your elbow, pulling you towards him. There’s a spike of anxiety, but being inches from Jeonghan is better than being so close to a total stranger. Said stranger is totally unaware of how he’s practically breathing down your neck, brushing up against your back. You feel your shoulders tense, but Jeonghan’s hand moves from your elbow to your back, pulling you toward him into his side. 

He leans down to be heard over the music. “Sorry. It’s just until we get away from the bar.” You give him a nod, because there’s a weird mixure of anxiety and relief flooding you. The noise and chaos is still a little too much, but his hand and side is warm against you and his cologne smells good. 

Nevertheless, you’re relieved when the bartender slides Jeonghan a tray of shot glasses. You trail behind him, hand on his shirt, until you reach the table again. He gently nudges you to his old seat, taking the one next to Soonyoung once he’s passed out the glasses. You can breathe a little bit easier the rest of the night, while Soonyoung curls into Jeonghan’s side.

Three

You open the TikTok notification from Jeonghan at approximatley 1:30am, mostly because you were already scrolling through the app. You send a reaction back and almost immediately get a text. ‘Why on earth are you still up?’

Here in the comfort of your bedroom, there’s very little anxiety about responding to him. ’Can’t sleep. You?’

‘Same. Want to go on a walk?’

That’s how you find yourself strolling the streets in the middle of the night with Jeonghan by your side. He’s kept conversation light - the latest stories about your mutual friends, or what he’s working on at work without spoiling anything. He asks how your work is going and you squirm, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets. You do your best to ignore his frown and careful stare.

“Stressful. Some serious deadlines coming up.” 

He hums, understanding. Your sure he does understand, given what he does for a living. “Well, I’d ask if you’ve been sleeping… but here were are.” He chuckles and it makes you crack a small smile. “But you’ve been eating right?” Your hesitation is enough of an answer for him. He’s stopping at a street corner, nodding his head to the right. “Come on, there’s a 24 hour convenience store down here. We can get you something.”

You don’t budge, peering up at him. “No… I can’t really eat much when I’m like this. It’ll get better in a few days when the deadline has passed.”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrow. “Then come keep me company while I eat. I’m hungry.”

Fine. It’s not like you want to go home yet anyway. You trail after him in the dark and he holds the door open for you at the convenience store. There, he picks out some ramen and a couple onigiri. You sit across from him at one of the small tables in the store. 

When he slides one of the onigiri to you, you frown. “It’s light. You should try to eat something.” Your stomach growls as if on cue and you huff. He’s smirking, but there’s something soft and not at all arrogant about his expression. “Come on. Just try it.”

You pick up the little triangular snack, peeling away the saran wrap. He’s right. It does make you feel better. He silently slides you the second onigiri and you scarf it down. 

He buys you one more for the walk home on the way out of the convenience store.

Four

This time, you don’t expect to see Jeonghan. You’re out at the club again with a few of your friends. One of them recently got broken up with and this was an effort to cheer her up. It’s working because she’s already dancing with some guy, leaving you to escape the stuffy dance floor. 

At the bar, you order something fruity, remembering that Jeonghan said you might like it more. It strikes you as kind of strange that you think of him as you wait for the drink. When the bartender slides you the drink, you take a sip and know Jeonghan was right. This is way more tolerable. 

You turn to leave the bar, when a body blocks you. It’s big and bulky and the smell of strong cologne assaults your senses. Your body is already tense before you hear the man say, “Hey sweetheart, let me buy you a drink.”

He’s blocking your escape from the crowd at the bar and you kind of feel like a cornered animal. “Oh, no thank you,” you try to say confidently. “Just got one. I’m good. If you’ll excuse me.” You start to wedge between the space between him and the next person, but he’s moving to block you. 

“Oh come on. I promise, I’m nice. We can go somewhere quieter to get to know each other.” Something about his tone and sleazy smile makes you cover your drink protectively. 

“I’m good, I should get back to my friends.” There’s a bit of desperation in your tone that you can’t really hide now. The guy looks like he might become a bit irate at your rejection when he’s bumped to the side roughly and a hand comes to your back. 

“Hi baby, sorry I”m late.”

Jeonghan’s inserted himself between you and the man, and despite being cramped against the wood of the bar, relief floods you. “It’s okay, I’m glad you made it.” You’re not sure what possesses you to play along, but the words spill out fast. Perhaps because it’s genuine. You really are glad Jeonghan is next to you now. 

“Who’s this?” He asks lightly, looking at the guy. The stranger is shrinking away now, apologizing. It burns you up inside that your insistence wasn’t enough but Jeonghan’s presence as a fake boyfriend is. Jeonghan turns to the bar to order a drink and makes you turn with him. He leans down to your ear. “Are you okay?” You nod, not sure if it’s the whole truth. You can still smell the stranger’s overwhelming cologne nearby, so you lean into Jeonghan. If he’s thrown off by it, he doesn’t show it.

As soon as he has his drink in hand, he grabs your hand with the other, leading you away from the bar. His grip loosens once the crowd thins, but yours tightens, and he glances back, eyes a little wide. But he tightens his grip again, pulling you to a corner. You don’t release his hand and he lets you cling. “Did he say or do anything I should have hit him for?”

The words surprise you, but even more, the intensity of his look makes your eyes widen. “You would have hit him?” 

He simply raises an eyebrow, beer bottle up to his lips. “Yeah. I’ll go do it right now if you want.”

“I don’t… but, Jeonghan. Why would you do that?”

Jeonghan’s jaw drops a little. “You can’t be serious, Y/N.” You just frown at him and he huffs. “I would do that in a heartbeat if someone made you uncomfortable. I don’t play fake boyfriend for just anyone.”

There’s something teasing about his tone, but his fingers are flexing around yours still. “But you’ll play fake boyfriend for me to help me get away from a creep?”

“I’ll play real boyfriend for you to help you get away from a creep.” He barks a laugh at the way your jaw drops. “Y/N, baby, you can’t be that dense. I’ve been into you for a long time.”

You stammer. “Jeonghan, why didn’t you say anything?”

He stares at you for a moment. “I kind of got the impression that you wouldn’t want me to, or anyone else for that matter.”

He’s right. You haven’t been interested in dating in so long for so many reasons. But there’s safety in standing close to him, even in a setting like this. You glance around the club for a moment before looking up at him. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You kind of expect a smirk, but instead he gives you a sweet grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter three -

This has got to be the longest crush ever

Robin’s bad date, and a late night that changes everything.

warnings: 18+ A little bit of queer and mid twenties crisis angst for Robin, with comfort obvi. Tension, but are we surprised at this point?, and a secret third thing, wonder what it could be? 😚

wc: 6.3k

authors note: Hi babies! I am taking just a week off from my posting schedule for this week long work trip I’m taking on Monday. There’s lots of conferences and I won’t have much down time. We will resume our normal posting schedule for chapter four starting 3/20 🌻🧡

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

Would you believe me if I said I’m in love? 

                            Baby, I want you to want me.

You can’t believe you landed yourself in detention.

All your late night study sessions for the SAT’s that led to oversleeping and missed alarms finally catching up to you just like Robin warned you it would. Miss O’Donnell is the one who makes your best friend's predictions come true, handing you that notorious pink slip for walking into her class ten minutes late for the third time this week. 

When you arrive at exactly 3:15, the classroom is mostly empty. Your eyes scan the bored faces of the few students joining you, hoping to at least see Eddie’s familiar head of curls. But of course, today of all days, he’s managed to be on his best behavior or just didn’t get caught. 

Sighing defeated, you give Mr. Clark a tight lipped smile, ignoring the shocked look on his face seeing you in here. Picking an empty desk in the middle away from anyone, you decide to busy yourself with the Algebra homework you’ve been avoiding for the better half of a week. It’s when you lean over to unzip your backpack that you catch the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the ceramic floors.

”Ahh, Mr. Harrington. Even fashionably late to detention, I see. Your hair looks good enough to sit in silence for an hour and a half to me.” Mr. Clark announces the king of Hawkins's grand entrance with the kind of sarcasm that makes you smirk as you start arranging your things on your desk.

“That’s good to know 'cause I was doing it for you Mr. C.”

Steve Harrington always thinks he’s so charming

Snorting as you click your pen, you dare to look up only to catch ‘the hair’ looking right back at you with that golden smile that you’ve seen take even the strongest soldiers out. 

Oh no. 

Eyes going big, you quickly bring your attention back down to your homework, silently hoping he doesn’t take the seat next to you and land you in here next week too. 

“So thoughtful of you. Now why don’t you take a seat and do some studying for that test on Monday. And maybe this semester you won’t have to worry about relying on extra credit to keep playing basketball.” Mr. Clark dismisses him, earning a low whistle from the boy who holds his hands up in surrender, Nike covered feet coming down your row.

No, no, no, NO.

You still don’t look up, rereading the same question over and over again because no matter how many times you try, you’re too distracted by the cedar and clove that invades your senses kicking them into overdrive. The whites of his sneakers catch in your peripherals when he does the unimaginable and sits next to you.

Staring at the equation with the kind of concentration that’ll be sure to give you a migraine later, it takes him a good thirty seconds before he temporarily gives up trying to get your attention to grab something that gives the illusion of studying out of his backpack. 

Trying to play it cool, your stomach twists in nervous knots worse than the ones you get when Robin forces you on the janky rides at the summer fair every year. Sure, you’ve been hit on by a guy here and there, but no one can prepare you for what it’s like to catch Steve Harrington’s attention—especially for someone in your Hawkins hierarchy who would never be on the receiving end of it.

He flips through the pages of his textbook loudly, earning his first warning glare from Mr. Clark, and you decide to write your name on the top of the page so at least it looks like you’re doing something. After a couple bounces of your knee, you can feel the heat of his gaze back on you.

”Psst, hey.” 

The last letter of your name comes out illegible, and you jump at the hushed sound of his voice. Taking a deep breath, you work up the courage to meet his flirtatious smirk and golden brown eyes. The sun leaking through the windows gives you a glimpse of the green that hides inside them from this close. You hate to admit that he’s just as pretty as everyone says he is.

”Hi,” you smile a little shy, offering a small wave of your pen and it lights up his whole face, making your body buzz.

”You have a highlighter I can use or something?” He keeps up his ruse, the whites of his teeth showing in a grin.

You arch an eyebrow at him, something sarcastic reminiscent of Mr. Clark flashing behind your eyes. 

“What? You don’t think I’m actually going to study?” He acts shocked, slapping his giant hand across his chest and it earns the kind of giggle from you that pushes him full steam ahead.

”It’s blue, is that okay?” Giving into the bait, you try and hide the way your face warms, ducking down to dig in the bottom of your backpack.

”Are you kidding? I love blue. Favorite color actually.” Laying it on thick, you can see the way he scoots to the edge of his seat, the spice of his cologne making you bite at your bottom lip as your fingers wrap around what you’re looking for.

Sitting up in your seat, you aren’t expecting him to be so close and it threatens to steal the air right out of your lungs.

”H-here,” you manage, holding the blue writing utensil in the small space that's left between you.

Steve's eyes roam your face freely, pink tongue coming out to wet his full bottom lip before they settle back on your gaze, lids a little heavy, voice low and somehow sticky sweet.

”Thanks, honey.” He leans forward more, purposely brushing his fingers with yours when he takes it out of your grasp, “but now, I’m afraid the only way you’re gonna get it back is to let me drive you home after this.”

“I’ve got plenty, you can keep that one,” you try to stay strong, but when that second giggle slips out, you seal your fate.

”I can’t do that, this is your favorite one.” He tisks like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard, with a crooked grin that makes you bite the inside of your cheek.

”Is it?”

”Absolutely.”

“Are you two done? Or should we schedule a second date for next week?” Mr. Clark interrupts.

”That would actually be date number three. We’re going on two after this is over.” Steve smirks, throwing you a wink ignoring the harsh way you whisper of his name. 

Yeah… you were fucked.

“I’ve got a date tonight!” 

Robin sings excitedly, bursting through the front door in a wild ball of energy, successfully waking you up from your nap on the couch. Blinking slowly, as you start to recognize your surroundings, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you force yourself to sit up, wincing at your stiff neck and the fact that you dreamed about Steve Harrington again. 

“A date with who?” You grumble, still a little grouchy, yawning with a stretch that pops in your back.

”This girl that I met at the record store this morning, we talked about Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos for what felt like hours. She’s just, wow, she’s so cool. Almost too cool for me, you know? She’s a senior in college-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up.” Cutting her off before she can ramble any longer, you wave your hands for her to stop: “First of all, no one is too cool for you, okay? If anything, it’s always going to be the other way around.”

“Yeah, okay, Steve.”

It takes a minute for her words to sink in about the man you haven’t seen in almost a week and a half, but when they do, the glare that settles on your face makes her laugh. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpan with a tight-lipped smirk, before clearing your throat, “Well where are you guys going? Do you want me to go undercover in case you need saving? I’m fully prepared for a stakeout.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but her smile, which spreads wide enough to see all her teeth, gives away her love for your dramatics. 

“No, I don’t need you to go undercover or anything. I mean, it is going to be nice knowing you’ll be here waiting for me to tell you all about it instead of having to call you and hope the city girl answers.” She teases, earning the scoff from you that she was looking for.

“I’m choosing to ignore that, and if at any point you change your mind, you know your own number.”

Earning a genuine laugh from Robin always makes your soul feel lighter, so when your joke lands and you get one, the heaviness of Steve that’s been weighing down on your shoulders eases up just a little bit.

”I’ve just never been approached in public before like that, you know? It’s not just the other girl you know is gay on campus. I don’t know, it feels good.” Your best friend’s confession makes you want to wrap her up in a hug, keeping the urge to remind her of your offer to move to the city with you to yourself for right now, letting her bask in the moment.

”Well, you're hot. Can you blame her? If you weren’t basically like a sister to me, I’d be all over it.” Wiggling your eyebrows, she flips you off, but you still catch the tinge of pink that paints her cheeks rosy.

”Please, Steve would have my head on a stake.” She snorts, purposely trying to get under your skin now.

”Robin.”

”What? I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel in his eye when I mentioned your little ‘adventure’ last week” She giggles, heading towards her bedroom.

If only she knew just how much those words were true. Your thighs meet like in the memory you can’t stop playing on a loop, palms turning sweaty, remembering the velvet of his lips so close to your neck.

”Wait! Did you ask that on purpose?!” You gasp, jumping to your feet to follow her.

”Maybe.”

”Maybe?!”

”You know what I do need help with?” She ignores you, spinning on her heel to meet your narrowed eyes.

”What?”

”Help me pick any outfit?” Pushing out her bottom lip, she gives you the kind of puppy dog eyes that no one in their right mind could say no to.

Sighing heavily, your feet drag on the carpet before flopping yourself onto her bed huffing out a “Fine” as the box springs squeak.

The rest of the day is spent going through what feels like every outfit in Robin’s possession, even getting desperate enough to try on some of your clothes despite your clashing styles. Settling on a pair of boot cut jeans, a black half crop top with a flannel shirt that you’re pretty sure she stole from Steve and the Dr. Martin’s you got her for her birthday last year, she was ready to break hearts. Blue eyes roll in the back of her head when you make her say ‘I’m the prize’ until you feel like she halfway believes it before handing over her I.D. that you’d found stuffed between the cushions of the couch in a frenzied panic to search for it only ten minutes prior.

The sun starts to set on Robin’s small apartment after she finally heads out the door, and the shadows that bounce off the white walls bring back the thoughts of Steve you’d successfully gotten rid of for a few fleeting hours. 

Huffing to yourself with crossed arms, you watch the flat bag of popcorn spin around in the microwave. You can still hear the beginning Moonstruck playing on the TV in the living room, over the loud hum of the machine. Comfortable in an oversized shirt that lands just at the bottoms of your cotton sleep shorts, goosebump dot across your legs from the cool of the A/C. Your skin still tingles everywhere he touched and the week of radio silence feels worse the second time around. 

The shrill sound of Robin’s phone and the first kernel of popcorn exploding in the bag overpower your ears all at once, making you jump. Mumbling cuss words under the now constant sound of popping, you try to calm your heart rate down, wandering to the living room. Your hand hovers over the phone, the realization about who might be on the other line making your stomach drop. He hadn’t called Robin yet. There’s a moment of hesitation, but you take a deep breath, letting the air expand in your lungs, silently counting to three before you grab the phone off its hook.

”Buckley residen-“

”I need you to come get me, I- I’ve made a huge mistake and I’m just so fuck - “ Robin cuts you off, the rasp in her voice cracking like she’s trying not to cry, “I’m just really embarrassed, please come get me.”

“What happened? Where are you? I’m coming, just - just tell me where you are.” Running to her bedroom to grab your sneakers with the phone pressed to your ear, you can hear her sniffle.

”Benningans, it’s the next town over. I’ll be outside -“

”Are you safe?” You panic, slipping your foot into your shoe as quickly as you can.

”I’m safe, I’m just, I’m embar- I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m safe, I’ll be outside.” She mutters.

”I’ll get there as fast as I can, okay?” Feeling a little helpless, you try to ease the hurt that’s evident in her tone with soft reassurance. 

”I’m just, I’m really glad you're here. I’ll see you soon.” She manages to get out before the line clicks dead.

Slipping your second shoe on, the realization that you don’t actually have a car to save her with, hits you like a ton of bricks. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Stomping back to the living room, your eyes find the mustard yellow address book next to the phone’s dock. Your fingers fumble through its pages, eyes squinting as you try to read Robin’s messy writing, searching for a familiar name. You find two:

Eddie and Steve.

You stare at the page, your moral compass going haywire. Despite the way he’s rented a space in your mind, the thought of seeing him alone again makes your stomach twist. Eddie would be simple. Eddie would be easy. Your thumb hovers over the first number in the one she has scribbled down for him, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to press it. She needs Steve.

You groan loudly, stomping your foot for good measure, before letting out a long breath through your nose, dialing his number that you knew you should have all along. 

It only rings twice.

“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Steve deadpans.

”Is that really how you answer your phone?” You scoff, doing your best to ignore the butterflies you’ve managed to stifle as they start to come alive at the sound of his voice.

“I thought this was - shit, I thought this was Henderson - erm I mean Dustin, you remember Dustin?” He stammers and you know that hand of his is running through his hair right now.

“Yeah, the middle schooler.”

“Well, he’s like nineteen now -“

“I didn’t call you to talk about Dustin, Steve,” You sigh heavily, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “Robin called me really upset from Bennigans, and I don’t have a car or any way to go get her-” 

“I’m on my way.” He cuts you off without any hesitation,“Be outside in five minutes for me?”

”My shoes are already on.”  

After a click, you’re left with the sound of the dial tone in your ear. You hang up the phone as warmth floods your body, easing some of your temporary worries. 

Steve Harrington is making it hard to hate him.

The short walk to Steve’s BMW from Robin’s front door feels like stepping through a time machine.

One that takes you back to late nights sneaking out your bedroom window, always being extra careful not to wake your parents up so you could go make out with your secret kind of boyfriend under the stars. Those were always your favorite nights with him. The nights he’d put away the king Steve armor, those nights he’d just be Steve. A boy who just wanted to make his father proud, thinking maybe he’d stay home more if he was.

You can feel the way his eyes roam your body, the heat of his stare lingering on your exposed legs, setting your skin on fire. Suddenly more than aware of your lack of pants, only part of you regrets not changing into some leggings, but you try not to think about that too hard right now.

He clears his throat when you open the passenger door, the smell of leather and the dark woody sweet scent of oil surrounding you as you slide into your seat. The spice of his cologne tickles your nose when you close yourself in, clicking your seatbelt in place before daring to meet his eyes. The golden brown inside them shimmers with something you’d missed in the orange glow of the street light and the nerves still feel the same way they did five years ago. The only thing that hasn’t changed.

”Thanks for doing this,” you offer with a weak smile.

When he realizes you’ve put your weapons down for the night, his face softens with a crooked grin, subtle pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

”I meant it when I said I can’t say no to you,” he starts, selfishly letting his eyes roam the smooth lines of your face that are finally not twisted up into a glare before realizing his slip up, “and Robin, my best friend obviously.”

”Our best friend, Steve.” You tease trying to ignore the tension that crackles in the empty space between you even worse than before.

”Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he winks, forearm flexing as he puts the car in drive.

Scoffing a ‘whatever’ with a playful roll of your eyes, you let your muscles relax into the familiar seat. The Police’s Every Breath You Take spills through the speakers just loud enough to be heard over the low rumble of the engine, and you become hyper aware of his hand resting on the stick shift, the tips of his fingers just close enough to brush against your thigh every time you hit a bump. 

There’s a silence that falls between you once the street lights run out and his full focus shifts to the pitch black road ahead. The quiet is filled with what almost happened in his room, unspoken words that don’t dare to roll off of sober tongues. You wait until he’s too distracted looking for surprises that might run out from the woods on either side of you to let your eyes wander over and really take him in.

A white drawstring hangs low on his heather gray sweatpants that fit tight over his thighs spread wide. Your throat goes dry at the white tank top that hugs his broad chest, the gold chain that wraps around his neck getting lost in the thick patch of curls on display. You’re finally able to really make out more of his tattoo for the first time, thin, precise lines that look like feathers attached to a set of sparrow wings.

”Did she tell you what happened? I mean, is she safe?” He interrupts your greedy stare, eyes lighting up when he catches you, tucking it away for another time.

”Uhh, yeah,” you answer with a shake of your head, teeth biting down on your bottom lip with hot cheeks, “she’s safe, she kept saying she’s embarrassed but wouldn’t tell me why, just kept begging me to come get her.”

He just hums, lost deep in thought of all the things it could be, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens with worry. 

“We’re only ten minutes away, so it won’t be too much longer now.” 

He reassures you, but it feels like he needs it too, especially when his hand leaves the stick shift to run through his hair that looks more tousled than usual, making you wonder if he was lying in bed before this. A worried breath exhales through his nose, with a tight jaw, and you hate the way your stomach drops when both his hands find the steering wheel after he tugs on his roots a little bit. 

Nervous fingers play with the bottoms of your sleep shorts, trying your best not to stare while you keep your gaze out the passenger window. Stolen glances are followed by tight lipped smiles when you’d always find him staring back. Honey and chestnut make your stomach flutter, and you think maybe some things never change. 

It takes less than the ten minutes that Steve promised for the back roads to turn busy, and bright with the kind of lights a small town on a Saturday night has. A slouched frame sitting on the side of the road catches in his headlights, getting closer you see that Robin’s waves have lost all the bounce she left the house with, along with the rosy tint in her cheeks. The flashing Bennigans sign spins a block behind her, and the orange bulbs match the burning ember on the end of her cigarette that dangles from her full lips. 

“Shit, it’s bad if she’s smoking,” Steve mutters, turning on his hazards as he pulls up next to her, the wheels of his car coming to a stop. 

She hollows her cheeks out, taking one last drag, waving at you to stop unbuckling your seat belt as she gets to her feet. Blowing the smoke from her lungs into the wind, she flicks the half smoked butt into the street before opening the back door, sliding into the leather seats with an exasperated huff.

“Just, don’t – I’m okay,” she starts, closing the door and shutting out the whir of the traffic outside. “Turns out her boyfriend’s best friend really likes Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos too. She really thought me and him might hit it off after our talk at the record store today. I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to go home with my two favorite people and feel sorry for myself.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Steve doesn’t miss a beat. Turning around in his seat, he flashes her his million-dollar Harrington smile. “I’m the king of feeling sorry for myself.”

Her lips twitch, but when she sees the natural roll of your eyes at the boy next to you, it turns into a full blown smile. A little shimmer came through in the dulled-out color of her eyes.

Got me up all night

            all I’m singing is love songs.

“Honestly, now that I’m thinking about it, this girl sounds like a scammer, Rob. I mean, come on.” Steve snorts, rifling through her cupboards in the kitchen. Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos, what kind of game was she playing at anyway?”

Robin giggles from her place next to you on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder, the green apple of her shampoo still lingering on her curls that tickle your cheek. 

“Plenty of people like those artists, Steve.” She sighs, but you can still hear her smile, “It’s fine, I’ll just stay the lonely Hawkins lesbian for the rest of my life, no big deal.”

”Shut up!”

”Will you stop?!”

You and Steve chide her at the same time, hard eyes meeting from across the living room and softening. He doesn’t even try to stop the lopsided grin that pushes up your favorite cheek and you hope Robin doesn’t feel the way it makes your skin warm. 

“Whatever, I already warned you I’m going to be miserable. Gimmie a break, and you’re actually taking forever in there, by the way.” Whining, she sits up, sending a rush of fruit and leftover tobacco to your nose.

“Yeah, well, I can’t find your peanut butter,” he mutters, opening up the cabinet above the sink, the bottom of his tank top rising enough to see a sliver of sun kissed skin and a few more freckles. Why does it feel like there's always more?

”What are you even making anyway?” you ask, ignoring the way Robin’s head whips around. A smirk spreads wide across her face because you’re actually trying to make conversation with Steve.

“Just a little something that’s going to cure my best friend’s heartbreak,” he winks, the jar of JIF extra crunchy looking extra small in his grasp, twisting the cap off. “We came up with it together, actually.o biggie.”

Your gaze narrows, but he doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth twitch, something sparkling inside the dark gold in his eyes.

”Interesting, considering I ran to the store earlier to grab my best friend’s favorite ice cream, just in case.” You counter, something mischievous twisting up your lips. “You didn’t even think to stop and get it on our way home. Some friend.”

Robin’s smile lights up the room, very obviously enjoying the show, maybe even a little too much. Clapping her hands together, she lets out a content sigh before leaning back into the couch cushions.

”I really could get used to this,” she beams, “maybe we should have a contest, see which one of you can do the nicest things for me.”

You can’t stop the snort or the roll of your eyes that has Steve throwing his head back in a fully-bellied laugh, giving you the perfect view of his neck, and only Robin clocks the way your giggles are cut short and the secret way your eyes glaze over.

”I’m not gonna lie as much as I love crunchy peanut butter banana s’mores, I have to say Steve, the fact that she actually called you makes her the winner for the night.” She smirks, chuckling harder when you shove her with a hushed ‘Robin!’

His smile doesn’t fade as he starts to cut banana slices. Big eyes meet yours with the kind of look that threatens to melt you into the couch.

”That’s alright, I’ll be a gracious loser tonight, but just know, honey, I’m very competitive.” He warns, long fingers spreading the fruit evenly throughout the peanut butter that messily coats graham crackers.  

“I don’t like to lose, so it’s fine.” Your quick reply deepens the smile lines in his cheeks, putting the finishing touches on your snacks.

“Yeah, this is definitely the life I was meant to live,” Robin gloats, nudging you, “I’m the prize, right?”

It’s your turn to throw your head back in the kind of laugh that rattles in your rib cage, too distracted to see the lovesick way Steve bites his bottom lip watching you from across the room.

But Robin does.

With a heart so full it might burst, tears threaten to spill from the ocean in her eyes, daydreaming about moments like this, only ever thinking they would be something that stayed trapped in the confines of her mind. The warming feeling of happiness wraps around Robin like a blanket when she gets to sit between you both on the couch. A distant friend she hasn’t seen in a long time, a secret she’s kept mostly to herself. 

With a messy plate of half eaten treats and sticky fingers, she’s content watching Cher and Nicholas Cage fight over how much they love each other. Fully knowing that Steve is sneaking looks at you from over her head, smiling to herself at the nervous way you fiddle with your hands in your lap because of it.

Robin doesn’t fight the exhaustion that starts to make her eyelids heavy just a little halfway through the movie. It’s easy to give in when your body weight relaxes deeper into her side, and how Steve drapes his arm over the back of the couch, tucking you both into his chest with evening breaths.

You’re warm, cozier than normal, and it surrounds every part of you.

Cheek pressed against something that’s not firm enough to be the couch, you nuzzle yourself deeper, chasing the heat and the sleep that’s threatening to evade you. Your cushion starts to move, making eyes shift behind lids that aren’t ready to open yet. Lashes flutter, feeling the way your leg is slotted between someone else’s, and the warmth of a palm finds the small of your back, pulling you closer.

A deep sigh rumbles in your ear before fingertips lazily trace up and down the dip of your spine. Stubble tickles your forehead, and as coherency starts to come back to you, a softer patch of hair rubs against your cheek. The kind of spice and lingering sunshine that could only come from one person hits your senses, and the white cotton of Steve’s tank top finally becomes visible. 

The shift in your breathing brings his soft touches to a halt, the muscles you’re pressed on your side against stiffening. Realizing your hands are sprawled across his chest, just under your chin, you can feel the way his heart races under your palm. He’s everywhere, and despite the way you’ve told yourself you hate him, your fingers curl into the cotton of his shirt because it feels like home. Toes pressing into his calf, you wind your leg around his tighter, and it turns timid fingertips sure of themselves, tracing patterns between your shoulder blades. You don’t dare look up at him yet, or it would make the way your own hand starts to explore his abs that twitch under your red nails real. 

He feels different than you remember, there's more of him now, harder in spots that used to be soft. Your fingers get greedy, the blunt ends of your nails scratching along the outline of his happy trail, earning a low groan from him that vibrates deep in your core. Those butterflies that have made a permanent home out of you start to stretch their wings, and when they feel the soft velvet of his lips against your forehead, they tickle at your ribcage and kick up your heart rate. You wonder if he can feel it.

It’s the faintest kiss, one that you’re not sure you would’ve even felt if you were asleep, but it makes you lean in closer. Inhaling deeply, tears sting at the corner of your eyes when the familiar scent only makes you crave him more. After years spent denying the existence of his touch from your memory, it’s almost overwhelming to feel it again. 

The muscles in his arm underneath your neck twitch, and the fingers that have been drawing lazy circles on your back move slowly up your shoulder. The backs of them run down your arm before they finally connect with your skin, goosebumps exploding underneath his touch in a ball of electricity that you can feel on the pads of them that start a new path up the loose sleeve of your shirt.

You fiddle with the bottom hem of his tank top, the heat of his body radiating against already flushed skin. Brave fingers dare to dip underneath only to get stopped by a large palm wrapping around your wrist 

“Baby,” there's a hint of a smile and a little bit of grogginess in his voice that gives away that he hasn’t been awake that much longer than you, “I think you should at least look at me before I let you get under my shirt.”

Biting at your bottom lip, you push yourself deeper into his chest, embarrassed, feeling the gentle shake of his body when he laughs. 

“Come on pretty, let me see your face.”

His affection makes your heart swell, and you know what it means if you look him in the eyes. Your nails dig into the cotton, tugging at the fabric a little while you pull yourself together, lashes fluttering against your cheeks, shaking the rest of the sleep. Lifting your head up from its hiding place, you cross the line you promised yourself you wouldn’t, but when you meet the green that shimmers in the darkness of his eyes, and the crooked grin that twists up his full pink lips, it feels good to give in.

Releasing the hold on your wrist, he’s gentle, almost hesitant, when his warm palm cups your cheek. The rough pad of his thumb traces the line of your cheekbone feather light, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. No more armor, fleeting glances, or stolen looks, not when he’s this close and even more handsome in the glow of the moonlight. 

“Beautiful.” He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, and your legs somehow wrap around his tighter.

”Yeah?” you whisper, your fingers coming up to the play with the gold chain dangling from his neck. “Why didn’t you kiss me then?”

”What?”

”Last week,” 

”That wasn’t the right time,” he sighs, eyes tracing every line of your face like he’s committing it to memory, “It would have ruined it.”

“Ruined what?” You press, twisting the metal between your fingertips, heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“My chance at trying to do this the right way, the way you deserve.” He doesn’t hesitate to say it, like it’s something he’s thought about for years, and it makes your head spin.

“What about now?” 

“That depends,” he hums, the pad of his thumb dragging across the slight pout of your bottom lip, threatening to steal the air from your lungs.

”On?” Your voice comes out just above a whisper. Tilting your chin up, you can still smell the peanut butter on his breath.

”If you want me to.”  He breathes, the tip of his nose running along the length of yours. 

Your hold on his gold chain tightens, pulling him even closer. His eyebrows pinch together when he feels the slightest brush of your lips against his, and he can still taste the sweetness of the banana.

”Please tell me you want me to.” 

The desperation in his voice is enough for you to tug him down, closing what’s left of the small gap, your top lip catching against his full bottom one. Just enough to feel the familiar silk that could leave a wildfire in their wake before you finally speak.

“Kiss me, Steve.”

A groan rattles deep in his chest, and he doesn’t hesitate to do what he’s wanted to since he saw you. Applying just enough pressure to wake up every last butterfly, the tip of his nose pushes into your cheek when he slots his lips with yours. It’s soft at first like he’s testing the waters, taking it slow so he can savor it, just in case you never let him do it again.

He pulls away enough to look at you, chestnut eyes blown out wide, and you hate that you already miss his kiss. Giving into everything you’ve fought for so long, it’s your turn to capture his lips. It stuns him at first, but when you open your mouth, his body melts easily into yours, and that big hand of his moves from your cheek to hold the back of your neck. Tongue swiping boldly across your lower lip, he begs you to let him in.

Moans get hidden, muffled inside each other's mouths after you grant him access, your fingers tangle themselves inside the thick forest of his hair that’s still just as soft as you remember. Nipping at his bottom lip, the grip on the back of your neck tightens and you can feel the way he kicks up in his sweats because of it. Your own thighs threatening close when you’re reminded of what’s between his legs.

“Baby,” he warns in between kisses, feeling the roll of your hips, but you don’t miss the subtle way he tries to meet them with his own.

It’s too easy to get lost in him, and the years it took to move past him make even more sense when your tongue finds his again. Fighting for dominance, you try not to think about the irreversible damage tonight might do to you as you tug at his roots, teeth scraping together, the kiss turns more heated by the second. Years of anger and longing come out in desperate touches. His hand finds its way to your hip, the pads of his fingers brushing against the skin under your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine, letting you roll them one, two, three times before tightening his hold.

He pulls you closer, letting you win before his nose nudges against your cheek, his lips finding the corner of your mouth. Catching his breath, he trails them along your jaw before making his way down your neck. Your chest heaves, fingers turning soft and slowly running through his hair. He hums against your skin, his hand staying under your shirt, the warmth of his palm covering the small of your back, leaving wet kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear.

”Let me take you on a date,” he whispers, leaving one more under his jaw before pulling back to look at you.

”Steve -“

”Just one,” he begs, bumping his nose with yours, smirking when it makes you smile.

”Let me sleep on it,” you sigh, ducking your head under his chin to hide. Too many thoughts trying to occupy space in your mind with a head still dizzy from his lips.

”I’ll take what I can get,” he laughs, the tips of his fingers starting up the familiar patterns that started all of this, quickly make your eyelids heavy, nuzzling deeper into his chest. You weren’t ready to think about tomorrow yet.

🌻 chapter four

[mountainsandmayhem]

Stay Still, Little Dove

Joel Miller x Female!Reader

18+

Series Masterlist

Summary: Joel takes matters into his own hands to deal with your newly insatiable sex drive with a little help from a u shaped friend. TW: softdom!Joel, female orgasms (like a lot of them), oral (fem!rec), this is all about her A/N: THANK YOU for all the comments, likes and reblogs on my last story! I fully believe only 1 or 2 people will read these and I'm just floored by the response so far. I wish I could write without a plot, but I added some backstory about these two. Word Count: 4.3k

Ellie has always been a tornado in your life. Her biological mom was your childhood best friend. She had her demons, so you can’t say you were surprised when during her weekend trip to visit you with her new baby she disappeared, leaving you with little Ellie. 

Overnight, you went from a 22-year-old young woman starting your third year of your degree to a 22-year-old adoptive single mom pushing through your third year of college. 

Your parents were helpful, driving four hours from the small town you grew up in every weekend so you could work or do homework. They offered to take Ellie for a while or help you find people to adopt her, but that little tornado of a girl was your priority and you weren’t going to abandon her like her mother. 

She broke her arm at 2 on her big wheel, and at 3 she needed 10 stitches across her eyebrow from when she tried to leap from the kitchen table to the granite island. Safe to say the granite won as she still bears that scar today. At 4, she bolted up the stairs to the high dive and jumped off without an ounce of fear. Thank god she was already a strong swimmer.

She seemed to crave chaos, so when she befriended the girl with wildly curly hair on her first day of school you just shook your head, predictable little tornado. 

Thankfully Sarah Miller was a sweet and kind-hearted girl, maybe even a little shy. It also helped that Sarah’s young dad, who didn’t wear a wedding ring, resembled a Greek god. Tall and broad with tanned skin, he owned some sort of contracting business based on the truck he’d do school pick up and drop off in. When the girls introduced you two, he flashed you a small smile, revealing that goddamn dimple. 

You’re both pretty sure the girls played a hand in the two of you eventually getting together, granted they both conveniently don’t remember playing tiny matchmakers. They’d ask for sleepovers and playdates almost daily, or sign you both up to the same shift at school events.

“Mommy, I swear on the moon that the teacher picked!” Ellie said when you had the coat check station at the Valentine's Day dance. “Buuuut you might want to put on lipstick.” 

It’s been a little over 14 years since then and he still sets your blood on fire with that dimple. 

Both of you approached this new empty nest phase apprehensively, but it turns out that having the house to yourself (with no risk of one of the girls walking in) opened a whole new set of rather kinky doors. Not that you were necessarily vanilla before, but while they lived there you didn’t have ropes and paddles hanging on your bedroom wall, or the hooks on your four-poster bed.

You also never would have been how you are now, bathroom door wide open in only the trousers you planned to wear to work. 

“Not that I’m complainin’ sweetheart. But why are you topless?” Joel asks on his way to the kitchen. 

“It’s too damn hot in here.” You grumble, getting out your skincare and makeup. 

Joel shook his head to himself as he walked to the kitchen. He knew better than to bring up that it wasn’t the temperature, it was you and your recent perimenopause diagnosis. He hated to see you suffering, but your newly insatiable libido gave him an idea. 

As you get ready, Joel leans against the bathroom door frame drinking coffee, observing you through the mirror. 

You see him most days in his typical work attire - dark jeans, a t-shirt with his company logo, and a flannel or denim button-up. But it will never get old to you. You almost find him sexier in this than in a suit. Especially when he has the cuffs rolled like he does today. 

“Little Dove?” His voice is deep and scratchy. 

A slight blush paints your cheeks, knowing that it’s going to be one of those days. 

“Yes, sir?” 

He slowly walks towards you as you lean into the mirror to blink on some mascara. He stops just a hair away from you, not touching you but close. Close enough for you to feel the heat coming off of him. He waits until you’ve put the mascara wand away, and uses his free hand to trace a line slowly down your spine. 

A shiver runs through you, and you let out a small moan. Partly from the feeling of him, but mostly at the reprieve from the hot flash you’re experiencing. 

“How many orgasms do you think I could give you before you beg me to stop?” He kisses the top of your left shoulder, watching your eyes widen slightly in the mirror. 

Goosebumps spread across your body. If he wants to play, you’ll make it difficult for him. “Well, after the little kidnapping the other night you gave in after three.” 

“This is about you giving up and not me giving in,” His free hand continues a light trail along your bare back. 

“And didn’t you say you felt like you had done an intense Pilates workout the next day?” He adds teasingly.

You were hoping he’d forgotten about how you groaned as you lowered yourself into the bathtub to soak your sore muscles. Even though your hormones seemed to think you were a teenager again, your body took a little longer to recover. Joel cared for you in a way that only he could; making dinner, wrapping you in your beloved heated blanket, and gently massaging your hips and legs. 

You don’t want to give up this easily so you scoff and say, “Please, old man. You’d get tired before I’d quit.” 

The next two things happen so quickly that it’s over before the excited squeal leaves your lips. He spins you to face him and lifts you onto the countertop, caging you between his arms, his hands gripping the vanity on either side of you.  

“Now now, Little Dove. I’d be careful who you call old.” His recently playful tone is back to a deep gravel-like command that settles right between your thighs. 

“You will refer to me as sir in these moments and nothing else. Do you understand?”

You nod eagerly sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, fuck you love him like this. 

He kisses down your neck towards your right breast. Pausing he adds, “Words, Little Dove,” before gently dragging your right nipple through his teeth. 

You let out a desperate moan arching your back into the pain, “Yes, sir.” 

Joel quickly steps back, taking his coffee cup with him. “Be a good girl today.” 

+++++

You spend your workday trying not to think about Joel. You immerse yourself in your to-do list and your team gets a few projects done early and sent off for approval. You’ve almost forgotten about the morning events when you hear your phone buzz. 

Joel: When I get home I want you in that little black lacy thing, Little Dove. I’m bringing home dinner. 

You reply with a funny ‘yes, sir’ gif.

Joel: Oh, my sweet Little Dove. I’m almost starting to think you like it when I punish you. 

You: Do your worst, I won’t tap out.

Joel: Tell me what you’re going to be doing when I get home.

You find a photo of you wearing the aforementioned ‘little black lacy thing’ and attach it to your message that says, “Wearing this, sir.” 

Joel: Be kneeling beside the couch when I get home. 

You: Yes, sir. 

++++

The rest of your day goes by tortuously slowly, yet the drive home seemed suspiciously fast. You laugh to yourself picturing a speeding ticket in the mail and Joel’s reaction when you tell him he has to pay it since it’s his fault. Maybe you’ll ask him when he’s in a sir mood.

You hop in the shower, shave and touch up your makeup before clipping and clasping yourself into the outfit Joel loves so much. As you step back to admire yourself in the full-length mirror you realize certain squishy parts of your body don’t look great in this.

Focus on the positive, you remind yourself. 

The deep v-halter of the one-piece garment accentuates your breasts, you spin to take in the low cut back and high cut cheeky bottom that highlights the globes of your ass. 

The familiar sounds of Joel’s truck pulling up the driveway sends a rush of nervous and excited butterflies through your stomach. You hurry to the sitting room, grab a throw pillow from the couch and kneel. 

Your eyes follow as Joel heads to the kitchen, holding a bag from your favourite sushi restaurant.  He places it on the island before looking up at you with dark eyes

“Look at the ground and put your hands on your lap.” He commands. 

You can’t stop your eyes from rolling as you look down and do as he says. 

“Little Dove, don’t roll your eyes at me.” His voice deepens with every word, instantly setting your core on fire. 

He’s silent for a moment and you can feel his eyes on you. “From now on when I say to kneel, this is how you’ll be. Understand?” 

You squeeze your thighs a little tighter, breathing starting to shallow at the sound of his voice as he slips deeper into sir mode. 

You reply with a breathy, “Yes sir. Sorry.” 

Joel walks over and pets your head. “You look stunning like this.” He whispers, before turning and leaving you alone. 

His words feel like warm honey being drizzled down your spine. No one makes you feel as desired as Joel and immediately your earlier body insecurities vanish. You can hear him moving things around the bedroom before he walks back to the kitchen but you don’t dare look up. You’re a good girl, Joel doesn’t like brats, and right now all that matters is pleasing him. 

Joel sets up dinner, arranges the sushi on plates, opens the wine and lights a candle before sitting at the table, legs spread, facing you. 

“Crawl to me, Little Dove.” His deep voice washes over you. Almost as if it puts you in a trance. You know your knees are going to regret this in the morning, but you’re so turned on that you don’t hesitate to crawl across the area rug and then onto the hardwood flooring Joel installed himself.

Stopping between his bare legs, his strong hand cradles your chin and tilts it up, he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and tight black boxers. But it’s the sleek black remote control vibrator in his other hand that steals your attention.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He says with a soft moan, gently stroking your cheek. “Go put this in, and then come back and have dinner with me.”

He helps you to your feet and hands you the vibrator. He turns you towards the half bath off the kitchen and pats your bum gently while you walk away. 

Joel has laid out everything you might need on the counter. After cleaning the toy, you push the thin fabric of your lingerie aside and slide it inside yourself. You can already feel pressure on that little spongy part inside you that Joel loves to tease. As you wash your hands you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. 

I can do this, you say to yourself. 

As soon as you step out of the bathroom and make eye contact with Joel the toy comes to life. Your false confidence from a few seconds ago buckles along with your knees as you brace yourself on the door frame and let out a breathy gasp. 

“I want you to keep count and thank me for each one, Little Dove. Understand?” 

“Y-yes, sir,” you moan, crossing your legs and squeezing your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact. 

The vibration stops, you take a few deep breaths before standing up tall and walking over to the table. Always the gentleman, he pulls out your chair and kisses the top of your head before taking his seat. 

“Eat while we go over some ground rules, Little Dove.” 

You don’t have to be told twice, you love sushi and you’re probably going to need your strength for the evening. 

“You are going to need a safe word tonight.” Your mouth goes dry and you become accurately aware of the small remote control in his possession. 

“We are going to use a colour coding system, much like traffic lights. If I ask you for a colour tonight you have three options. Green means you want to keep going,” he emphasizes the word you. 

“Yellow means you need a break and will let me know when you’re ready again. Say red and we stop.” Joel pauses and looks at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes, sir,” you reply in between bites. 

He picks up his wine and takes a sip before continuing softly, reaching across to grab your hand. “But baby, you can say yellow or red at any time. If you need a break or reassurance, say yellow. And if it’s too intense and you need me to stop, say red. We’ve done our research on this. But you need to know that if you say stop, or that you need a break, or even if you’re crying and saying I’m hurting you, I will not stop. Colours only. Understand?”

You nod while taking a big mouthful of wine, the nervous excitement that you’ve been feeling all day courses through your body. As your wine glass is put back on the table the vibrating starts again, stronger this time. 

“You should know by now that you need to use your fucking words, Little Dove.” He says darkly. 

“Yes,” you stammer. “Yes. I under���.I understand, sir.”

The vibrating stops and you let out a breathy, Oh god.

You both eat your dinner and finish the wine, this man could give you whiplash with how quickly he can go from sir to family man.  He asks about your day and tells you about the new apprentice he’s hired. When you both finish eating he takes the dishes to the sink. He turns to face you, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. The sleeves of his t-shirt stretch over the ropes of muscles lining his biceps. 

“Little Dove, do I have your consent to make you come until you use a safe word?” 

Again, the whiplash. 

Your mouth goes dry as you reply with his preferred ‘yes, sir.’ 

The toy comes to life again, on a higher setting than the last 2 times. You lean forward so your ass is slightly off the chair to ease some of the intensity. You’re not a stranger to a vibrator, but never one that’s pushed this firmly against your g spot and your clit. The seat of your chair is clamped between your fingers as you cry out in pleasure. 

“Don’t make me tie you to that fucking chair. Sit down, Little Dove.”

You do as he says, letting out a desperate moan as the hard seat presses the two ends of the u shaped toy deeper and harder against your g spot. 

“Oh fuck - fuck - m’gonna…” you close your eyes and your head falls back as the white heat in your center starts to reach its breaking point. 

Joel strides over to you and grabs your chin, twisting you slightly to face him. “Look at me, I want to see it when you come.” 

“J-Joel,” his hand doesn’t leave your chin and he watches you with such admiration as you start to come undone. 

“That’s it, Little Dove,” he whispers as he places a few kisses along your jaw towards your ear adding, “Let go for me.” 

Your orgasm hits you hard, spreading from the base of your spine and out to every inch of your body. Wave after wave flows through you, intensified by the look of admiration spreading across Joel's face.  

“There you go - good girl.” 

Your fingers start to ache as you fight to stay seated in the chair, his wishes are your command and you’ll do anything to hear him praise you again. You squirm against the seat as overstimulation starts to take over. 

“Please, sir,” you beg, “fuck! I need…I need to move.” 

“So beautiful when you beg, Little Dove….count it for me” He says. 

“One sir, thank you.” It comes out weak and breathy, a voice you didn’t expect after only one orgasm. 

“Give me a colour, baby.” His voice is almost soothing as he torments you with the vibrator. 

Current state aside, you’re not giving up or giving in after one orgasm, even if it is still coursing through you minutes later. 

“Green!” You scream, shifting yourself off the chair slightly as he switches to a new vibration setting.  Its intensity varies and shifts, and the anticipation of never knowing what might hit you next is a new level of wonderful torture.

Joel slides your chair out and kneels in front of you, pushing your hips back down to the chair. 

“I will tie you down if you don’t stay still, Little Dove,” he growls before slamming his lips into yours.

A second orgasm tears through your body, your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you try not to move. It’s no use, the vibrations are too intense and you buck your hips up while your head falls back breaking the kiss. 

The kitchen fills with your cries of ecstasy. Somehow you manage to count and thank him for the second one before he turns off the toy and pulls you to your feet. You grip his strong forearms to steady yourself, your pussy still fluttering against the weight of the vibrator. 

“You have five seconds before I turn this on high, Little Dove. Unless you can make it to the bedroom before that.” 

Your legs feel like jelly beneath you, but your competitive side kicks in and you sprint down the hallway as he loudly and authoritatively counts to five. You almost make it through the bedroom when you feel the most intense vibration hit your swollen g spot. You stumble forward, folding your upper body onto the bed. Your brain scrambles to catch up to your body as it processes that you’re not in pain but instead in a state of agonizing pleasure. 

Joel walks up behind you, pressing himself against your ass. “You’re doing such a good job for me,” he praises before landing a hard slap on your right ass cheek. 

Your body is suspended in that moment right before you come. You almost feel like you’re floating and the pleasure is so intense that you can’t even make a noise as you clench the bedsheet in your fists to try to ground yourself. 

He uses his body to pin you down, folding over you and whispering “Give me a colour,” in your ear. 

“Green” comes out in a shaky whisper. 

“That’s my girl.” He says proudly, biting your shoulder blade. 

Again it’s his words that do it, my girl, and you finally tip over the edge and tremble underneath him. Joel kisses and sucks the skin of your upper back, every inch of your body feels encompassed by him and crying out for relief, but you’re not giving in. 

“Ah - fuuuuck…” you feel like this orgasm has been going on for hours.

“I wish you could see how good you look right now.” 

“Stop. P-please. Stop,” you beg in between gasps of air. 

As you come down from your high the vibrating slows to a small tickle, not enough to make you come again but enough to remind you that it’s there.

Can someone die from an orgasm? 

“Take off your clothes,” Joel growls in your ear, slapping your right ass cheek as he peels himself off of you. “I’m not stopping until you use the safe word, Little Dove.” 

He pulls his shirt off and watches as you undo the clasps and clips of your lingerie and slide it off with shaky hands. 

As you lay on the bed you say, “I’m not a fucking quitter, sir.” 

Joel smirks, laughing through his nose a little as he wraps a silk cuff around each ankle, spreading your legs apart for him. “How many are we at so far?” 

As he cuffs your wrists you reply. “Three. Thank you, sir.” 

He kisses your forehead as he slowly removes the vibrator. “Fuck me,” he says, “look at this mess, such a good girl for me.” 

You close your eyes and let the praise wash over you like a warm bath. Joel shifts his body between your legs and places two little kisses on your swollen clit making you whimper and suck your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He uses two fingers to lightly circle your clit making you come instantly with a whimpering ‘four, thank you, sir,’ at the end. 

Joel doesn’t stop, switching to use his tongue while keeping the same pace and pressure as you come again.

“Ah - five, thank you, sir!”

….and again….”fuck, six. Thank you, sir.”

...and again….”s-seven - oh god - thank y-you, sir.” 

Your skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat as a cool liquid drizzles down your pussy. You gasp at the new sensation, eyes shooting to his face. 

“Stay still, Little Dove.” 

As he runs his fingers up and down your pussy, the lube turns warm and tingly, heightening his touches. Joel draws circles on your clit with his thumb, pursing his lips and blowing cool air. The warmth turns icy cold, and when he stops blowing, heat rushes to your pussy, pulling another orgasm from you. 

Yes, I’m certain someone can die from an orgasm. 

“Count, Little Dove.” 

A whine escapes your lips as you try to tug your legs together. His thumb has slowed down but it’s all becoming too much. “Eight. I can’t anymore, sir.” 

He blows cool air again and the heat rushing has you keening all over again. 

“Please, Joel. I can’t. Please.” Tears spring from your eyes. 

“You’re ok. You can do this, baby.” Cool air hits your pussy again and you come apart.  “Good girl. So gorgeous. Count it for me, Little Dove.” 

“Nine. N-nine,” your eyes slam shut as he pulls away from you. “T-thank you, sir.” 

Before you’ve even finished thanking him, he slides his middle finger inside you, lightly massaging your g spot that’s still so sensitive from the vibrator. He pushes one of his strong hands down on your mound as he torturously works you toward your tenth orgasm. 

“No…please. Sir, I,” you gasp as you try to pull free. 

“I can’t,” the pleasure is almost painful at this point as the pressure from your arousal builds. He knows your close, he’s been dying to make you squirt again after the other night. 

“Color,” Joel says tenderly, slipping a second finger inside you and hooking the forward. 

You swallow hard against your sore and scratchy throat. You whine ‘green’, as you arch your back to try to ease the intense mixture of pain, pleasure and pressure that you’re experiencing. 

“Stay still, Little Dove,” Joel pushes harder on your lower belly. “Give me number ten. Show me, baby. Show me how good this feels.” 

You swear that everything stops, including your heart and time, as you fall apart under his touch and gush all over his hand. The walls of your pussy are clenching around Joel’s fingers and you can feel a puddle forming underneath you.  You think you hear Joel praising you, but the sound is muffled by your gasps and moans.  If you lived in an apartment your neighbours might think you were being tortured based on the loud cries coming out of you. Joel is sure that he’ll be making you a hot toddy to ease your throat later, but right now he’s hyper-focused on getting you through this orgasm.

As you start to come down his hand slows, “relax, baby.”

 “Red. S-stop. Fuck Joel, red.” 

Joel gently removes his fingers, shifting quickly to undo your restraints. You’re shivering and exhausted as he pulls you into his arms and away from the soaked sheets.

Everything Joel Miller does is done with the utmost care and attention, including aftercare. Your heated blanket is already warmed up, tucked near the headboard. He pulls it over you and places a featherlight kiss on your sweaty forehead. 

“I got you, darlin’. Shhh. I got you.” He holds you tighter as you melt into him. 

After a few moments of silence, you tilt your face up to look at him. “Are you okay?” He asks gently.

You bite your bottom lip to stop a smile. “Ya, that was - amazing.” 

You laugh a little and tuck back into his chest. “Are you sure? I’m so proud of you for using a safe word, but I need to ensure I didn’t hurt you.” 

You shake your head and fight to stay awake. “No…you didn’t” you mumble sleepily, stifling a yawn. “I’m great - just one minute…then I’ll do something for you.” 

Joel laughs softly and tilts your face up to his. He presses his lips to yours gently. “That was for me, Little Dove. Sleep for a little bit, I’ll wake you up for electrolytes and food.”

The warmth of your blanket takes over, you whisper an ‘I love you’ just as you drift off, thanking whoever brought this beautiful man into your life. 

++++++++++

Taglist: @corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @mermaidgirl30 @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut

[mooblesandsoups]

The life series is truly one of my favorite pieces of media ever alongside other smps

Everyone just feels so human and it's not just a black and white narrative even with the watchers.

The idea is simple a group of people get thrown into a game of life and death what do you do.

And the executions are incredible!!

Gem being besties with Pearl during secret life but then you get to wildlife and it's like their dynamic totally switches. Then you remember people are upset and confused but then you wildlife is only Gems second game, in her eyes pearls a traitor doesn't Matter if it's a different season when you give someone all your love and care and they throw it away like it's nothing it HURTS Pearl understands that better than anyone it's best not to hold grudges though which is exactly what Gem is doing but she doesn't know that because once again it's only her second official game.

Scott is also a fascinating character a man viewed as a bit cocky but protective and strong when needed to be, but that's what he wants you to think. Ever since third life it's like a light has been switched on, ever since his win he knows exactly what he needs to do to survive. He keeps up th cocky attitude in an attempt to not show the weak, the weakness behind his words the fear he has for his allies- his friends dying right in front of him. This is happened over and over again and he can't stand loosing another but it's apart of the game so you just have to smile and walk away.

Lizzie isn't talked about ENOUGH despite being in one of the fewest games only being in 3 games officially her character is a tragedy. Last life is her first game. One of the new girls if you will, but unlike Pearl she learned the nature of these games the hard way. Alliances don't last long, not if there's no trust between the group. Being too trusting and care free costs you everything you know and love and Lizzie had to learn that fact quickly. Then we have secret life with Lizzie isolating herself and yet still trying to be friends with others only to be denied over and over again before being left alone to die because of her own mistake. And don't get me STARTED on wild life.

But the best part of this all is that people are having FUN it's just people playing Jimmy games and yet there's so much character and love being put into each and every video that just shows the love and appreciate the creator have for no only the audience but their friends too.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

The Howling of Claw Creek Forest, Chapter One

Chapter One: Hide and Seek 

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader 

Word Count: 2.7K 

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true. 

Chapter Summary: After a curfew is set in place, you and your best friend sneak out past the town border for a drunken game of hide and seek. What could go wrong? 

Warnings: drinking, peril, mention of blood 

A/N: A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this.  

Dividers by me 

Support/Reblog banner by me 

Cover Art by me 

Series Masterlist 

My Masterlist 

“C’mon, girl. You need to get out of the house for more than just work and the coffee shop. Look, we’ll even stay in town. Just please don’t make me stay in and watch The Great British Bake Off again. Paul Hollywood’s eyes still haunt my dreams.” Your best friend drapes herself against the couch in a dramatic show of boredom. 

“Liv, you’re the one that agreed to wine and TV. So, what? You wanna hit the bar now?” You guess, sitting on the arm of the couch. 

“Yuck. No way. I was thinking of something much more exciting. But you gotta agree to it before we go. That’s the deal.” She props her head up on her fists, while she lays on her stomach, letting her feet swing in the air back and forth. As innocent as she looks, you knew better. 

But then again, you could always go for a little adventure.  

And that is how you ended up in a clearing in Claw Creek Forest with Olivia, a heart full of optimism, and a six-pack of Jack Daniels Watermelon Punch. By the time you are halfway done with your second bottle, the sounds of the night are almost calming. Crickets are chirping, owls are hooting, and leaves are rustling in the light wind that tickles your neck. 

You’re downing the rest of your drink and looking up into the sky when Liv suddenly stands up with a look that can only mean one thing. She’s got a terrible idea that she thinks is genius. 

You decide to stop her before she even starts, “Girl, whatever idea just popped into your head after two wine coolers is not gonna be as brilliant as you think it is. Just say it so I can turn it down.” You twist off the top of your third bottle and look up at the defeated face of your best friend. 

“Damn, way to try and spoil all the fun. I just wanted to have a chugging contest.” She sits down on the fallen log next to you and grabs the last bottle from the cardboard pack. She twists off the top and you nudge her with your elbow before winking at her. 

You smile at each other before bringing your bottles to your lips. The rush of the bubbly drinks makes you both stop every few sips to breathe and burp a little. But in the end, you finish your bottle first and shoot up off the log to slam down your empty bottle. 

The moment you are upright, the blood rushes to your head and you instantly feel ten times more drunk. A few seconds later, you feel like you even out and you can hear Liv’s laughing as she falls backward off the log and her drink goes flying. You crumple to the ground, laughing your ass off, until she pops up over the log with a small scowl on her face. 

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” She stands up and brushes off her pants before picking up her now empty bottle along with yours. Her little attitude is adorable, but you don’t dare say that. As she walks past you, she doesn’t look at you. 

“Olivia, don’t be like that. Come on, girl. We’re having a good time! I don’t want it to end. Please?” You’re not too proud to beg, and she’s not the only one who can pout charmingly. 

When she turns around, the first thing she does is look at your pout and scoff, “OK, fine. But I’m only staying if we play a game of hide and seek. It’s spooky season, after all. Well, technically, in my head it’s always spooky season, but you get it.”  

“You wanna play hide and seek...in the woods...in the dead of night...drunk?” You hoped there was enough moonlight so that she could see the incredulous look on your face. 

Wiggling her eyebrows, Liv bites her bottom lip and says, “All of those things together are so perfect. We’re drunk. It’s nighttime. Spoo-ooky woods all around. Come on, babe, the kid versions of us would be so proud to say we weren’t too scared to play hide and seek as adults with barely any wits about us.” As soon as she finishes speaking, the cutest little hiccup escapes her, and you can’t help but laugh and shake your head. 

“Fine! But I’m hiding first. Count to 30 so my drunk ass can find a good spot around here. And don’t cheat, Liv!” You direct her to face a tree and cover her eyes so she cannot sneak a peek at where you are going. You also make her count loudly so that she can barely hear your footsteps crunching over the leaves. 

Even drunk, you are surprised you can think of all that. You back up slowly, turning around to run in a full sprint in the opposite direction. When the tree cover blocks out the light of the moon, you slow down and pull out your phone to use the flashlight to light up your way. 

You don’t know if you got very far in 30 seconds or if Liv just stopped counting, but you can’t hear her anymore. You turn off your flashlight so she can’t use that to find you. You tip-toe forward in case she has gotten closer to you. You find a tree with large roots above ground and decide to try and hide in the little alcove it is shaped into. 

But something catches your eye. At first, you think someone is shining a flashlight or something a bit away from you. But flashlights don’t usually blink, do they? But if you can remember correctly, you’ve seen those glowing yellow eyes before.  

And now they were slowly moving toward you. The glow of the moon illuminated dark fur covering pointed ears and a muzzle that only hid its teeth for a moment. As those fangs came into view, a billow of hot breath turned into a smoke cloud in the frigid night air. The sudden huff of the beast made you realize you weren’t moving. You were standing stock-still while an imposing wolf thought about making you into its dinner.  

Turning on a dime, you begin to run further into the forest. Not looking where you were going, you didn’t see the pile of rocks in your path. Your right foot slips, and you fall face-first onto the unyielding ground. You grunt as your head connects with a sharp stone. Your head starts to swim as you try to lift yourself to continue running, another huff directly behind you scares you enough to flip over onto your back.  

Ringing starts in your ears, and you suddenly feel light-headed. You start to hyperventilate as the wolf comes closer. As tunnel vision closes in, you think you hear it whine softly. The last thing you feel is a wet snout against your temple and then nothingness. 

What was once the sensation of cold wetness is replaced by warmth as you start to regain consciousness. You reach a hand up to your forehead and feel a wet cloth being pressed against your temple. When your hand touches what is holding it there, your eyes shoot open, and you try and scuttle away.  

A firm hand grips your shoulder, and you find it hard to move. Turning your head slowly, you first look at the hand that holds you down. Thick fingers clutch your joint tightly, and the connected veiny forearm is covered in a smattering of dark chocolate hair. Even under an old woolen sweater, you can see the outline of a sizable bicep. The broad chest breathing heavily under that sweater triggers the onset of hyperventilation until the hand that was holding your shoulder moves away. 

When a warm palm touches your jaw, your eyes threaten to close. But when a thumb brushes your cheek, you finally lock eyes with...an angel? 

You can’t tell if the dimly lit room you are in is fuzzy or if you have a concussion. But if you were a betting person, your money would be on head trauma. Because there was no way he positioned himself in front of a light to have a slight glow about him. Maybe that just works like that? 

Deep cocoa brown curls are about ear-length on his head, but a few unruly strands are hanging above his slightly raised brow. Concerned aquamarine eyes with a touch of brown in the left iris aren’t enough to hide the growing bags under them. A strong nose sits in the center of his face. And a small, yet inviting, mouth is outlined by a dark beard speckled with a few greys here and there. 

“...best you lie back down.” The stranger speaks and you only catch the last bit of it because you were looking at his pretty face. 

“I...,” You start, your hoarse voice causing you to clear your throat, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” 

“I said, it’s probably best you lie back down. You’ve got quite a lump on your head. If I hadn’t found you when I did, who knows what could have happened?” With one hand grabbing for the warm compress, his other hand guides you back down to lay your head on a soft pillow. 

“Found me? Was there a wolf near me? He was huge and he chased after me and then I slipped and hit my head. And where am I? Where are we right now? Who are you? I need to get back to my friend.” Your words exit your mouth hastily as if you are in a rush to get the hell out of...wherever this is. 

“Try and stay calm. Yes, I found you not far from the trail. I didn’t see a wolf anywhere, though,” He pauses quickly, but picks right back up where he left off, “Ehm, my name is Walter. Walter Marshall. We’re in my cabin, just outside of Claw Creek. I didn’t see your friend anywhere but, as soon as this swelling goes down a bit, I can take you into town.” Walter speaks clearly and smoothly, his voice is dark yet pacifying, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t enjoy talking.  

“I guess I should give you my name,” You rattle off your name, and Walter nods, “I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you, Walter. But considering the circumstances of our meeting, this could have gone a lot differently. Not the way I hoped to end the night.” You laugh, mostly to yourself. 

“I should hope not. When I found you, you were still bleeding a bit. I was able to stitch you up and get you cleaned up. But I’d probably go and see a doctor first thing in the morning.” Walter suggests in a strong tone. 

“Thank you, Walter. I hate to think what would’ve happened to me had you not shown up when you did.” Your bottom lip quivers as you think the worst. 

“Hey. You’re stronger than you think. And the swelling has gone down some. Why don’t we get you back to town where you can get more rest?” Walter pats your shoulder and gets up from the chair he was sitting in. 

Your eyes follow him as he moves about the cabin. You realize that you hadn’t looked around before, so focused on him previously. It’s a nice, cozy place. Full of warm, rich colors and various little knickknacks on shelves. It lacks a woman’s touch, so to speak, what with all the antlers and not enough candles to cover the smell of a man. However, it suits the man who lives here. 

Grabbing a set of keys, Walter comes back to where you lay on the couch in the center of the room. He gently and slowly helps you up and off the soft furniture and guides you to his truck parked outside. He helps you into the passenger side, shutting the door when you’re seated, and walks around the front to get in the driver’s side. Turning the key in the ignition, the truck rumbles to life and you are on your way home. 

You’re rubbing your hands together and shoving them into your coat pockets before Walter gets the hint to turn on the heat. It’s only a couple of minutes before it is warm enough to be comfortable.  

The drive down the tree-lined road is mostly silent, save for the low music playing on the radio. Walter points out where he found you and you almost can’t believe you made it that far on foot when you reach the edge of town. But you were drunkenly competitive, so you had your eyes on the prize. 

Once you make it to town, you pass a curfew checkpoint and Walter supplies the officer with a story about how you two lost track of time while out of town. You thank him for the cover and direct him to stop at Olivia’s house to make sure she got home safely. Of course, you told him it was your place, and that Liv was your roommate. 

As handsome as he was, serial killers come in all shapes and sizes and no way were you giving this man your actual address. You’d apologize to Liv later. 

Once he stopped outside of her house, you went to unbuckle yourself and thank Walter for all his help. Protocol for this type of situation eluded you, so when you went for the door handle, you weren’t expecting his voice to stop you. 

“Do me a favor and be careful from now on. No more late-night drinking in the forest. It can be a dangerous place." His calm smile brings out the most adorable dimples and you resist the urge to poke them. 

“I promise. Scout’s honor. No more drunk forest parties. Thank you again for everything.” You place your hand on his arm and squeeze before exiting the truck and waving as you walk up the pathway to Liv’s house. 

The light on the porch turns on and your best friend rushes out and hugs you tightly, bringing you in from the cold as Walter drives off into the night. Once you are in the warmth of her home, she takes your coat and prepares you a cup of tea. She asks who brought you home and you tell her about your ordeal. 

When she asked if he was cute, you shouldn’t have been surprised but you still giggled bashfully. She also playfully swats you when you mention that you didn’t get his number. But that’s fine because at least you have his name.  

Once she deems you safe enough to be on your own, she drives you the few streets over to your home and has you promise to call her in the morning. You take off your boots at the door, remove your coat, and start to sling it over the back of one of your dining room chairs. As you look closer at your coat, you make a note to take it to the cleaners tomorrow. 

You survey the coat for any damage to the fabric and thankfully it just looks a bit dirty. You begin to wipe it with your hand and notice that it’s not all dirt on the coat. You can’t be sure, but if you had to guess what was on the sleeve and collar of the coat, you would say it was dog hair. 

Coarse, short dark-colored hairs that when you hold them under a lamp look to be an inky brown. You try and stop yourself from jumping to conclusions, but it is almost impossible not to do that very thing. If these truly were what you thought they were, that means that you didn’t hallucinate that giant wolf. He was there with you, and he didn’t eat you. 

You decided to get to the bottom of this. You’d schedule a check-up with your doctor in the morning. And after that, you would go back into the woods.  

In search of the wolf? Possibly. In search of the truth? Definitely. 

There was only one place to start. At Walter Marshall’s front door. 

To be continued... 

A/N: Walter is finally in the story!! Yay. I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

**Tag List** 

@deandoesthingstome @cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily @titty-teetee @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @milknhonies @peyton-warren @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @cardierreh15 @viking-raider @imaslutforcuddles @ilovetaquitosmmmm @warriormirkwood @shellyshellshell @calwitch @meanlilbean @samahenoyrhye 

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁 

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - IX

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6k.

Reading Time: 24 min.

Warnings: biting, cunnilingus, dry humping, face sitting, mentions of fellatio, mentions of rape, mild degradation, nipple play, praise kink, protected sex, spit as lube, vaginal sex

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock @amaridelphi @katiegvf

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

If you thought that spending time with the Cardinal and having his mouth between your legs would help you in any way, it turned out that you were wrong. You learned that you had no self-control when it came to sex, obsessed with it to the point where it was damn near all-consuming, that you found yourself instigating things between yourself and the Cardinal. More often than not, you’d wake up in the evening next to him and would climb on top of his face (as per his invitation), and start your night with a powerful orgasm, and your hands clutching in his messy hair.

The Cardinal would get off with your body, too. Sometimes you’d help him with your mouth, a skill you were getting better and better at each time, other times your hands, thighs, breasts, the outside of your core - any part of your body he could wrap his cock in, he would. You did everything… except the thing you’d begged him for a while ago. But it didn’t matter to you - not while he was happily servicing you in the way you needed him.

You had also been allowed total access to the rest of the Ministry at this point, with a ghoul guard. Your ghoul, you learned, was Aurora. She was happy and bright, very bubbly. She became like a friend to you, showing you around the Ministry, taking you to places you’d not seen before, even bringing you down to the wine cellar to meet the ghouls who lived down there - something you had no idea was a thing, especially after your first incident with the Cardinal. Under Aurora’s guidance, you tried human food for the first time, and enjoyed everything the chefs offered you during their night shift. It was quiet that night, which meant you could hold conversations with them, too.

Aurora took you to the library, where you were able to return your books and get new ones, and she eventually recommended some books to you after conversations you’d had together. It turned out, some of the books she’d recommended to you were, as she said, “smutty”. But despite your initial shock, you could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter as your eyes scanned the page, and your brain ingested the printed filth.

Aurora emphasised that you shouldn’t take those books too seriously, that they weren’t reflective of real pleasure. But it did teach you a lot about what human desire meant, and what they wanted during sex. Why the Cardinal asked you to talk to him as he used his tongue on you. You read about how good the act itself could be, how magical it felt, and wanted to feel it for yourself. But, both of you were hesitant to take the leap and just go for it, to show you the thing you’d been missing out on for millennia. His doubts also kept you both moving slowly, neither of you completely sure that it was the right move to make despite how desperate you both were for it, holding off and holding off until there was an unquestionable feeling in both of your guts that was completely undeniable, and felt like the best time.

Life at the Ministry became easy. And you almost couldn’t quite believe that you were about to say this but, life became safe. You had a freedom that you never felt before. You were finally experiencing what life was like governing your own body and mind. You read what you wanted, when you wanted. Sure, you were a house pet, but you had more autonomy now than you ever did in Heaven. Each night seemed to blur into the next, and yet, there was a strange comfort in the predictability of it all.

There was still a persistent feeling of unease deep down, even with your newfound sense of freedom and safety. It was there, waiting in the shadows of your conscious mind to remind you of the journey you’d been on, and the desires you still carried inside. You tried to clean the guilt, but it remained like a stubborn stain that would not go away.

It was impossible to escape the sensation that every immoral indulgence, every improper meeting with the Cardinal, was a betrayal of your divine essence. It was a never-ending tug-of-war that left you feeling torn and confused between your natural sense of righteousness and your carnal desires.

And the Sister remained in the background, looming over you both with an angry eye, waiting like a cobra for the opportune moment to strike. The Cardinal - Copia, came home every morning a little more stressed than before, yet he wouldn’t tell you why. But it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together and realise that the Sister was mounting the pressure, and making threats again. The last time you heard them argue, you saw the look on his face as he stormed back into the room, and every day since, he wore that same expression.

With growing concern, you noted Copia’s subtle changes in demeanour. You had been living a peaceful life in the Ministry, but Sister Imperator’s ominous presence loomed large in the air. A tangible sense of unease that descended upon the corridors of power like a mist with every day seemed to add another layer of tension.

You tried to keep up a front of normalcy, but there was always a sense of impending disaster lurking in the background of your mind. The tense dynamic between Copia and Sister Imperator served as a continual reminder of the precarious power dynamics inside the Ministry—a precarious dance rife with covert plans and unspoken intentions.

“Do you wish to communicate?” You’d asked one morning when he came home. You were already tucked up in bed, in the thinnest of white, nightgowns and waiting for him.

He’d sat on his side of the bed, removed his socks and began getting himself ready to join you. “It won’t do any good,” he told you.

Still you persisted. “I read in one of the books in the library that communication is good for mental health.”

“And sometimes talking about it can make it worse.” His tone was much sharper than usual.

“The book didn’t say-”

“Angel!” Now he’d snapped, anger bubbling under his skin. He didn’t mean to raise his voice to you, but he was just so frustrated, he couldn’t help it. He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, and rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “I pushed.”

He sat quiet for a moment, looking at his hands. His left thumb came to rub over his right palm, rubbing over the skin as if he was soothing an ache. “She’s going on and on about the third ritual. It’s going to happen this full moon, regardless of my tricks.” His voice became small. “Regardless of whether you’re conscious or not.”

You thought for a moment. “Remind me, what is the third ritual?”

“The Ritual of Desecration.”

“You would defile me?”

Copia nodded. “Me or a ghoul.”

You laughed a little. “Have you not done that already?”

That comment earned you a small chuckle in response; a titter, if you will. “Sadly, no. I’d have to fuck you properly during the ritual.”

“What would happen if I was already defiled?”

Copia tensed. “You’re still a virgin, though. It doesn’t matter.”

“But, what if?”

“We could perform the ritual without your virginity, but it wouldn’t be as powerful. We could defile your halo, I suppose… but that would be lethal. She wouldn’t risk it.”

“So my virginity is the problem?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but-”

“Yes?”

He nodded.

“Well then,” you pushed the comforter back and got yourself comfortable, spreading your legs and letting your nightgown fall up your thighs, “let’s make it difficult for her.”

Copia looked at your exposed cunt, gulped, then looked back at you, eyes wide and pupils blown. It didn’t take much to get him going, but even with the thought of defiling you, he still couldn’t let himself dive straight in. “You’re not ready… the pressure…”

“Would you rather take me on the floor of the Basilica?” you asked. “With everyone watching? Where anyone else could have me, instead?”

“No.”

You reached forward and took his hand, kissed it, then began trailing it up your thigh to your centre. “I want it, Copia. I want to feel you.”

“Say it again.”

“Say what?”

“My name.”

You inhaled, your body tingling under his gaze. “I want you, Copia.”

He simply nodded in response. His movements, from then on, were frantic yet slow, as if he was still giving you time to change your mind. His lips attached to yours quickly, his body pinning yours to the mattress despite him hovering above you at a comfortable distance. You wondered how he’d be when he didn’t hold himself back, if he’d still show the same amount of restraint as he showed you then.

He’d fed before he kissed you - you could taste the iron on his tongue. It didn’t taste like your blood… and that shouldn’t have made you flutter in the way that it did.

He lowered his hips to yours, his jeans creating a rough surface to cover your centre. It didn’t feel amazing at first, but it was the thought that he was too desperate to stop that kept your wetness flowing, and your own hips moving against his, chasing a pleasure that built the more you moved. All the while, small grunts left his mouth, only to be swallowed by yours.

When his lips left yours, he let them wander around your body, kissing his way down and down. He lingered at your neck, exactly where your pulse point was and where he’d sank his teeth into you the very first time. You could feel the tips of his fangs as he bore them, debating whether to dive into your neck and indulge himself, but the kiss he left there instead was enough to remind you that he wasn’t the same person he was when you met him.

He laved over your clothed nipples, licking over the fabric of your nightgown just to tease you, to spite you, to play with you. It earned him a moan, and a small “yes” falling from your lips.

He travelled the expanse of your body until he reached your exposed clit, his journey coming to an end at the first suckle of the bundle of nerves that, before he’d touched it, was screaming for stimulation. Stimulation he was more than happy to give you.

He kissed you exactly where you desired him. He stuck out his tongue, lapping over your clit the way you loved him to, making you scream for him as it swirled and danced over your flesh. Your body moved instinctively, hands flying to his hair, digits locking into his hair and your back arching off the bed entirely. Copia charged in, his tongue twirling wildly around your tender spot and sucking every now and then to get those angelic sounds out of your mouth. Hips against his tongue, chasing your pleasure while riding his face, as you had grown used to doing.

“O-oh!” you exclaimed, hand tightening on his head. “Fuck.”

Copia chuckled and pulled back, replacing his tongue with his thumb temporarily. “And where did you learn that word, Angel?” he asked, grinning. You looked down at him.

“A b-book,” you stuttered, trying to breathe.

“No textbook you normally read would use a word like that. What’s Aurora been teaching you?”

You gasped when he increased the pressure on your clit, his thumb moving in circles. “Sh-she showed me fiction.”

He tutted, feigning disappointment. The sound went straight to your cunt, increasing the pleasure. “Smutty fiction, hm? Corrupting my innocent angel with filth.”

“Y-you corr-uh! Corrupted me fi-irst.”

From his place between your legs, you saw a smile form against your skin that was pure, unbridled happiness like you’d never seen Copia wear. His eyes gleamed with pride, sparkling with the joy of knowing that he had corrupted an angel, until she had become insatiably hungry for pleasures she’d never even dreamed of until this moment. He bore his teeth, and playfully nipped at your thigh, causing no pain, but coupled with the feeling of his thumb on your clit, sent a shock wave of gratification through you.

“P-pride is a sin, you know,” you teased, despite your words being interrupted by your own whimpers.

Copia chuckled, giving another nip to your skin. “You’re in no position to talk to me about sinning when you so willingly spread your legs for me - when you’re offering yourself to me on a silver platter.”

“F-feels good,” you all but whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m gonna make you feel even better though, Angel. You ready?”

“Yes.”

Your brain was preparing you for the stretch of his cock, and so you lay back onto the pillows and tensed for the intrusion, but there wasn’t anything like that at all. There was a slight pressure to your hole, and you felt something small push inside with no resistance or pain whatsoever, and so you looked back down at Copia. His eyes were trained on your centre, and the hand that was occupied with your clit had now bunched up into a fist, save the middle finger which was now inside you, gently thrusting in and out.

“How does that feel?”

“Fine,” you replied, significantly less overwhelmed than before. The truth was, you could feel him inside you, but it didn’t feel good or bad. He was just there, and you told him as much.

“No pain?”

“None.”

“Good. How does this feel?”

Before you had chance to ask him what had changed, the middle finger moved inside you, curling upwards and tapping the front wall of your cunt. That felt incredible. In surprise, you bolted upright, eyes widened and mouth hanging open, a breathy, high-pitched whimper tumbling out before you had chance to stop it.

In all the times you’d touched yourself, and had him touch you, you’d never thought of this. Of course, you’d known about the actual act itself, but despite reading all those books, his fingers - or even your own - had never crossed your mind as something you could do or have done to you. And if you weren’t alive with electricity to the point where you felt like you could explode at any moment, you’d ask him why he hadn’t done it before.

“I’ll take that as, ‘It feels good, Copia’,” he teased, with a smug grin on his face.

“Again,” you requested, frantically.

He tutted. “Angel, where are your manners?”

“Please.”

He obliged, tapping up exactly how he had done before and making you cry out a second time, falling backwards again and relaxing into the plushness of his pillows. His movements were slow and delicate, as if he didn’t want to break you.

“This,” he began, laving kisses over your thighs, “is called your g-spot, and it’s the second spot after your clit designed for only pleasure.”

He pulled out of you and you whined at the loss. When you looked down at him again, you watched him put his ring finger and that middle finger in his mouth and spit all over them before he placed them back into you, slow and gentle movements to keep you comfortable. He tapped up again, earning another sob to fall from your lips as he toyed with you.

The speed of his taps quickened which ended up giving you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Your body recovered quickly from each of his slow hits, but it didn’t have time to calm down in between the new pace that had been set, causing tingles to spread all over your body and your mind to go completely blank. You couldn’t even form sentences to tell him how you felt, mind dumb from the sensation. Thus, the only sounds you made were cries out for him to not stop, to continue to work your body into such a frenzy that you could cum on his fingers like that.

The more his fingers moved, the more you could hear it: the extreme wetness that your cunt was producing around his fingers, splashing around those digits and making the most sinful squelching noises that had Copia bite his lip. “Sathanas, you sound so fucking good, Angel,” he told you, watching your wetness gather on his fingers. “So wet and pliant for me. I know that it feels good, not by your sounds, but by how soaked you’re making my fingers. Fuck. I can’t wait to get inside you - to feel this tight, wet cunt around my cock. I need a taste, I can’t-”

He interrupted himself to put his lips back on your clit, sucking those nerves exactly how he had before. He played your body like a fiddle, the perfect timing of each of the suckles on your clit alongside the taps to your g-spot making your hips rut against him again, your desperation more prevalent than ever before. You chanced a look down at him and clenched around his fingers at what you saw. His eyes were closed completely, putting his entire concentration on your body and your pleasure while the bottom half of his face worked you to completion. His hair was messed by your fingers tugging at the strands, moving the meticulously combed sections into an out of place mop on his head. And his hips, though still clad in his jeans, were moving on their on free will, and grinding into the mattress below him, humping against the sheets because he was seemingly just as desperate as you were. His left hand was on your thigh, the pads digging into the meat to keep himself firmly attached to you at all times. And it was all proving to be too much.

Your own hands moved up to play with your nipples through the fabric of your nightgown, and that would prove to be your undoing. Your orgasm hit you so quickly, you barely had any time to call out and let him know. All he got was a, “cumming!” before you finally tipped over the edge. There were white spots in your vision as you came, the breath stolen from your lungs and your toes curling against the sheets. Your back arched off the bed, your body so overcome with the sensation, you thought you were going to pass out. Nothing had ever felt so good - so powerful. The combination of his ministrations had you truly seeing stars, experiencing the kind of orgasm you’d only read about and it was all because of him. This vampyre attached to your body to make you feel incredible.

He only released you when you pushed him away, breathlessly pleading with him to give you a break. Copia pulled his fingers out of you slowly, smirking at the hiss you released due to your sensitivity. With one final kiss to your flesh, he stood from the bed and began to undress completely, his painfully hard cock springing free from his jeans, and hairy stomach jiggling as he moved, tossing his clothes to the side and walking to the side of the bed.

His large hands came to the sleeves of your nightgown, pulling them down off your arms and rolling the fabric down your torso until it got stuck at your hips. “Lift yourself up for me, Angel,” he asked. You did as he’d asked, and helped him roll the nightgown off your body and watched him throw it to where the rest of his clothes lay.

Your breasts were still heaving with your breathlessness, body numb and trembling from the force of the orgasm that you were trying to recover from. Your wings were almost completely outstretched, the left one cascading over the bed like a waterfall making Copia dance around it to get into his bedside drawer.

He pulled out a small, square packet you knew to be a condom. You only knew condoms existed because of the turmoil they’d caused within Catholic spaces, and how they were condemned by the Pope and other prominent figures as ‘playing God’. You watched Copia roll the latex over his considerable length, and climbed back onto the bed, bending at your cunt to give you one final, teasing lick and causing you to cry out in oversensitivity.

“Do not!” you begged, laughter rising up in your body as he kissed his way back up to your lips.

This kiss was passionate, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, however faintly it might have been. You could feel his length heavy against your core, but this time he didn’t rub.

“I’m gonna put it in now, okay?” he asked, his mouth closer to your ear. “If it hurts, tell me.”

“Okay,” you replied.

He hovered above you, eyes bearing directly into yours. He always loved the initial stretch, the look on the person’s face as he entered them for the first time. The furrowing of the brow, the silent cry they let out, or even that exhale of air from their lungs, so shaky and unstable. It always let him know that he made others feel good.

He lined himself up at your entrance. “Are you ready?”

You nodded.

“I need words, Angel.”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

He pushed himself inside you, your wetness opening up for him with ease. Despite this, he still intended to take his time with you; move slowly to keep you as comfortable as possible. Though, the face you made as he stretched out your walls made him want to slam all the way inside you and take whatever he wanted. The way your eyebrows furrowed upwards, the way your mouth hung open in pleasure, and the way your eyes swam with lust had him feeling like a rabid dog, all panting and drooling, completely out of control of his own body.

And you gasped. It was pure music to his ears. On the exhale, you moaned loudly, and to him, it was nothing short of pornographic.

His mouth dropped down to your nipple and began to lick and suck on it again, lavishing you in as much pleasure as he thought you might have needed, but the nails digging into his back proved to be your body crying out at just how good it actually felt.

He wasn’t all the way in but your body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve ending screamed while your voice remained silent, bumps appearing on your skin and butterflies dancing in your stomach. You had welcomed him in much better than you thought you would - than you’d been told, and his gentility with you only served to enhance the sensation, drag out the feeling of him fully carving a space out for himself until he was fully sheathed inside you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his own breath taken away from him and his body trembling on top of yours.

You tucked your lips between your teeth and nodded.

“Does it hurt?”

“N-no.”

“Feels good?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me when I can move.”

There was a small part of you that didn’t want to, wondering just how he’d fare buried deep inside you, waiting for your command only to realise it would never come. You’d have to burrow that little idea away for some other time, for now, you had to do everything he asked of you. You licked your lips then bit the lower one, moving your hands to the forearms that were either side of you and holding himself up, before uttering, “Please move.”

The first pull out then push back in was overwhelming to say the least. Your grip tightened on his skin, and you cried out as he hit a spot deep inside you. His movements were gentle, slow… restrained.

He did it again, earning an “oh” to fall from your lips.

Though he was still careful with you, like you were china about to smash, his pace picked up, yet all the while, his eyes were locked onto yours, searching you for a sign of discomfort that wouldn’t come, no matter how often he buried himself in you. “Can I go faster?”

“Yes.”

Grunts and moans, mixed with heavy pants fell from his own mouth as he borrowed pleasure from your body. “Oh, fuck!” His voice was deep, gravelly and dark, and you could hardly believe that it belonged to him. Yet, even so, it caused you to tighten around his length and steal another moan from his mouth.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, putting all of his weight on your body as he continued to rock into you, pace gathering speed until you were moaning fervidly beneath him, wordlessly begging him for more. You could feel his tongue lave over your skin, pressing open mouthed kisses as though he was trying to distract himself. He moved his head up, letting his teeth graze your earlobe.

All the while, your hands were back on his back, nails digging into the skin.

“So wet,” he commented, voice muffled by your neck. “So fucking tight.” He sat up a little, still putting the majority of his weight onto you but resting on his elbows.

“C-Copia!” You breathlessly called for him, hands clawing into his skin and trying to keep him as close to you as possible.

“I know, Angel. I know.”

He took your nipple into his mouth again and sucked on it. He lifted his hips a little, just enough for a hand to snake in between you both. “Touch yourself, Angel,” he requested, popping off your nipple momentarily.

Your middle finger ran circles over your clit, just as you were used to doing. Applying some pressure, you began to feel that familiar knot inside you tighten, and tighten, until eventually you snapped.

Your cunt fluttered around his cock, tightening with the sensation of your orgasm washing over you. Copia kept thrusting in and out of you, keeping his tempo as you continued to touch yourself, heightening the sensation and making it just that more spectacular. Your whole body strained at the feeling, and a great wave of sensitivity fell over you the more it travelled through your whole body. Your toes curled, your fingertips dug into his body, your screams were deep and guttural. Your eyes closed tightly lest they glaze over from the force. “Oh my God!” you screeched once your breath had returned.

“Sathanas - I’m cumming!” Copia told you.

Mere moments later, he stilled a growl forming on his lips and causing your hole to tighten even more in the process. The cum that would usually sit somewhere on your body, or slide down your throat, now filled the condom he wore, more spilling into it with each thrust until he, like you, was completely spent. A part of you wondered what it would be like to feel him inside of you like that - if it would feel any different at all.

He collapsed on top of you, using your body as a pillow to allow him to recover from his own strong finish. He was sweaty, and sticky, and somehow it didn’t make you feel disgusted. If you had any energy left, it would actually do the opposite to you.

Copia said something, but was muffled by his face in between your breasts, you couldn’t understand him.

“I beg your pardon?” you asked, hoping for him to clarify.

He lifted his head. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I am okay. No pain on my end. H-how are you?”

He flopped back down onto your body. “Dead.”

You laughed. “If I would have known that this is what would kill you, perhaps we should have done this at the start.”

“It wouldn’t have felt as good. It only did because I l-” he stopped himself, and thought for a moment. “I see you differently.”

You both lay there in silence for a while, waiting for your bodies to regain your breaths. Your hand came up to his hair and ran through it, despite the sweatiness.

The room was calm and quiet, save for your breathing. This was the most peace you’d felt since you fell from grace - and you knew that if it had been like this from the beginning, you’d never have wanted to leave. You would have been entirely smitten with the Cardinal, favouring him to your Lord. You could have even truly understood Lucifer’s stance on his whole situation.

But you didn’t get the welcome wagon. You saw the very worst humanity had to offer at the hands of the vampyres and you were sure it would happen again and again. It didn’t matter if you stayed at the Ministry and all would be well, there would be future generations of Satanic worshippers who may repeat the process. And that thought scared you - the prospect of repeating everything you’d been through over and over again made you shiver. But, could you leave Copia now? Could you go after all of this? You couldn’t be sure.

Not to mention the fact that you had been defiled now, despite you actively begging for it. In the afterglow, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret these feelings, no matter how much Heaven had previously commanded you to. And there was a small part of you that was saddened by the fact that you’d never be able to return to the celestial realm - doomed to wander the mortal one for the rest of eternity. But if this was how you’d be able to live for the rest of time? You’d find contentment in it, possibly even prefer it to life in Heaven.

Little did you know, Copia was grappling with his own issues.

You were still technically a prisoner - his pet, no matter how much he could pretend otherwise. His own mother was forcing him to force information out of you regardless of whether you were in pain. He had subjected you to unimaginable horrors and the guilt was eating him up inside now that he’d come to his senses and realised just how much he cared for you, how he almost said three words that would have changed everything. But if he was being honest with himself, as he lay on your body and cocooned himself in your arms: he loved you.

He was in love with you.

It was everything, from your innocence, your feistiness, how you fought him every step of the way. You were beautiful, and rare, and obedient. You were honest to fault, kept him in line, listened to him when he spoke. And you gave yourself so willingly to him, even after everything he’d done. The revelation had hit him like a tonne of bricks, but you weren’t ready to hear it yet.

“What do we do now?” you asked him, still stroking his hair.

“We wait,” he told you. “Bide our time until Imperator wants to complete the ritual.”

“Will we still have to go through with it?”

Copia nodded. “She doesn’t know about this.” He sat on his knees in between your legs. “We need to make her think the ritual worked, so we still need to do it. But the ritual will fail because we’ve already taken the key ingredient.”

“Can we be sure?”

“Yes. But, there is something we need to talk about.”

You sat up. “Okay.”

“We need to make her think the ritual is a success in order to get her off our backs for the time being and think about what we should do next. Which means when I take you on the Basilica floor, you have to pretend you hate it. You have to fight me. I’m going to be horrible to you - absolutely vile - and you have to pretend like none of this happened, okay?”

Your stomach dropped. “Why?”

“You can still be killed, Angel. She’s already planning on it because she knows you won’t give up any information, and if you can’t turn into a demon then you’re as good as dead. At least if she thinks she’s winning, then we have a chance, too. And if you were suddenly willing to take part in these rituals-”

“She would know that something was amiss and kill me anyway,” you interrupted. “What will you do to me… during the ritual?”

Copia sighed. “I can’t tell you. We need to keep some element of surprise to make it all seem believable. I will stop if you get extremely uncomfortable. If you say… peaches… I’ll stop. But I need you to not say it. Please.”

You nodded in understanding, but couldn’t swallow the fear that had appeared. There was a lot riding on this, and it needed to go perfectly.

When the full moon came, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Not frightened, because you knew that you’d be safe, but nervous because you didn’t know if you could make it all believable.

Copia came into the room with those hellfire chains you’d not needed to wear in so long. He wrapped them around your wings and your wrists, and told you to begin fighting him immediately. And so, you did. As soon as he had you bound in chains, you began to struggle against them, screaming at Copia to let you go. Of course, he didn’t oblige. He refused to. Instead, he dragged you out of his apartments and down the hallways to the Basilica, the imposing space looking even more intimidating the closer you got to it. All the while you pulled against him, flinched when he threatened you and fought against him every step of the way. You hurled insults at him, spat in his direction, clung onto protruding bits of the walls and furniture to try and make his life just that much harder.

He wouldn’t let anyone else touch you. When his ghouls tried to intervene, he pushed them away, telling them to walk behind you both so that they could catch you if you managed to escape - which you both knew would never happen, but you both had to act the part.

The siblings that you passed were all staring at the spectacle in front of them, and you didn’t know how to feel when you saw the expressions on their faces. The majority of people were appalled at how the Cardinal was treating you, evidently thinking how inhumane he was being by not only chaining you, but pulling you to a place against your will. You recognised some of these siblings, some you’d seen in the kitchens and dining halls, others in the library. Some you’d had conversations with, and had been nothing but kind. You debated whether or not you should call for their help, beg the onlookers to do something to save you. But if they overwhelmed Copia, it would spell trouble for both of you. No, for now you were better off just struggling.

As was last time, the second you walked into the Basilica, your skin started to prickle. The soles of your feet burned as if you were walking on lukewarm coal, and your hairs stood on end. Your instincts screamed at you, reminding you that you didn’t belong on this unhallowed ground. There was still some holiness inside of you, but the intensity had dulled significantly since the last time you were in there, causing you to realise just how corrupted you truly had become.

Standing in the sanctuary, in front of the statue of Lilith and Baphomet, Sister Imperator stood with a smug expression on her face. That thick book was back in her hands, and she was surrounded by ghouls - some hers, some Copia’s, some you’d never seen before. On the floor was that familiar Satanic Pentagram that you’d already been inside twice, with candles at each point.

“Now, are we ready?” you heard the Sister ask from behind you.

Prev./Next

[littleroaes]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, tbz [ TEASER ]

FULL FIC

Y/n's stale love life gets a catalyst at the start of the autumn semester when two weeks earlier; her younger brother got egged on by his friend to post the box of secret love letters she has collected during 12 years. how does she handle the end of summer and five leaked love letters?

PAIRING ( 3rd pov, she/ her ) fem!reader x lee hyunjae, lee juyeon, ji changmin, kim sunwoo, eric sohn

GENRE, WARNINGS fluff, university!au, humor, to all the boys i loved before!au, 2000s and 2010s au, summer!au, sprinkle of angst, sporty people, nerdy people, parties, friends2lovers, childhood friends, bickering, slice of life, coming of age ( more info in full fic ! )

RELEASE DATE end of may / beginning of june

ESTIMATED WORD COUNT 10 - 17 k

TEASER WORD COUNT : about 500

this will be my fic for the @deoboyznet love letter collective event! ( idk if i should use the dbn tag since it’s just a teaser ) i've wanted to write a "to all the boys..." fic for so long and i'm finally doing it! if someone wants to be tagged for the full fic lmk!

like and reblog are highly encouraged!

THERE'S A THING YOU DO–OR SHE DOES AT LEAST–WHEN SOMETHING'S BEEN OCCUPYING YOUR MIND.

Dad told her once after an argument with a best friend to take a paper and a pen; then, let it out. Fold the paper, lay it in a box, and shelter under your bed. 

It’s inherently the same concept as a diary she suppose. Though, somewhat more effective. 

Nonetheless, from that first letter a series of what one can only describe as an uncontrolled teenage angst ensemble of love letters emerged over the course of twelve years.

...

There are five of them. 

The first one is Lee Jaehyun, a three year older popular student who she had a trivial crush on in middle school (together with everyone else). In all honesty she didn’t know much about him; just that he was cute looking. There’s a sort of emotional torment in recalling her one sided adoration while leaned out the school window to see him play football. Even his name haunts her still in uni as her roommate had a crush on the shining hockey player the entire two semesters.

In short, everyone liked Lee Jaehyun. 

Next is Eric Sohn, her childhood friend, the boy next door, her first love? He has many titles she realize. He lived in an impressive house north from hers, one that hosts many parties every time his parents take the trip to their summer resort. At some point, it felt like he knew every kid in town. Luckily for her; Y/n has never been the jealous type. Despite being each other’s ride or die since ten, Y/n has never confessed the secret ways she looked at him back in the sandbox.  

Third is Sunwoo–just Sunwoo; she never got his last name–from summer camp who she even (jokingly) got married to. Her first summer at thirteen, away from her parents, with kids her age. When recalling it all back, that summer feels as if taken right out of a movie, and she fell head first, three meters deep with the boy. Sunwoo always stood in the center (bad and good…mostly bad tbh). They got paired up for the kayak; it pissed rained and their coordination couldn’t take them ten meters. But she remembers every word he said as butterfly inducing nonetheless. After that, at night they snuck out of their cabin’s to watch the stars. And when that summer too ended, she swore her heart shattered into million pieces.

The fourth is Lee Juyeon, a boy she had never seen before until his cat got pregnant by her own. Scuba Steve (long story) had been gone for some days until another family came up to their door with him. For half a year, it felt like she saw Lee Juyeon everyday. He was just as enchanted by kittens as her (if not more) and they would visit each other just to cuddle with them. Her teenage heart used to rush with the mere presence of him and they together named all the kittens–until they were sold off. Then they eventually stopped seeing each other. Though he still lurks around as a poet’s ghost around campus (source: Eric). 

The last one, Ji Changmin, the son of her mother’s friend. He teached her calculus for a while in high school. To be fully transparent, she didn’t learn much from him that year because all she did was leaning on the kitchen table while adoring him until the rims of his glasses slipped. He always scolded her endearingly when she didn’t listen (which was the majority of the time). Ji Changmin always wore cute polos with neat pants–now when thinking about it, her mother might have approved if they got together. But it’s too late. He went to uni; and simply left her with a newfound thing for glasses (still wearing cute polos in uni). 

And that's all five. She sometimes wonders if it was a mere symptom of youth that resulted in those letters. Since uni–outside a campus crush or two-–that compelling yearning for someone has never come back to her. 

to be continued

© littleroaes, written and all

[amethyst0cean]

My sister was telling me the other night that the episode "Double Cross My Heart" is hated by most and I wanted to give my thoughts of it. After watching it with her, I think it's a good episode overall 😊

Sam having a crush on Danny, while also having feelings for Gregor makes sense in this episode. Having crushes with more than one person at a time does happen and it's not unusual; Danny has a crush on three girls at once (Paulina, Valerie, and Sam) which has been shown throughout the series. Sam having one with more than one person as well seems fair to me in that regard, and Danny being uncomfortable with that shows that he also has feelings for Sam that he's unaware of in that moment. It's an early depiction of jealously.

Danny makes a horrible decision in the episode to spy on Sam during her date with Gregor. Danny thinks Gregor has something to do with the Guys in White since they keep showing up at the same time to go after Danny while Gregor is around. I also believe him feeling a little jealous and not quite understanding that it relates to him liking Sam also plays an important part of why he wanted to see what was going on during their date.

Sam and Gregor kiss (Danny's POV): Danny sees something he didn't want to see, and it hurts him. He was expecting to find a relation between Gregor and the Guys in White but instead he sees that Sam and Gregor like each other more than what he thought. I understood how he felt here because it sucks seeing someone you like kiss someone else 🥺 Although of course he shouldn't have been spying in the first place 😅

Sam and Gregor kiss (Sam's POV): I really like that we get to see Sam's POV of her relationship in this episode as well. She asks Gregor if they think they are going a little too fast, and he respects how she feels and they both decide to take it slow. Sam being honest with her feelings was great to see as well and shows that she knows how to handle herself well in these situations 🥹

Danny confronts Sam about what he saw and she is reasonably angry at him for spying on her during her date. He still mentions his suspicions about Gregor and the Guys in White and Sam tells him that he just doesn't want to see her happy with someone. Both of their feelings are valid here but Danny was still in the wrong for breaking Sam's trust and boundaries and Sam had every right to be upset with Danny for that. Tucker lets Danny know afterwards that he can hang out with Sam and Gregor for him and will let him know if he sees anything suspicious from Gregor. I really liked seeing their friendship dynamic here; that Tucker was able to help Danny feel a little better with his idea and be there for him 🥹

Tucker is obnoxious third-wheeling Sam and Gregor's date (which was pretty funny at times), and he later tells Danny that he didn't see anything strange about Gregor which confirms to Danny that he was wrong about what he thought with Gregor and the Guys in White. I really do appreciate that Danny respects Sam's space after their argument and he doesn't try spying on her again.

Gregor confronts Danny knowing that Danny doesn't like him and learns from Danny that he was worried about Sam. When asking Danny if he likes Sam, Danny hesitates for a moment, and that lets Gregor know that Danny is unsure of his feelings. It gives Gregor free reign to ask Sam out, which Danny was definitely displeased with. He should let Sam know he likes her soon 🥹

I really like how Sam responds to Gregor here. He expresses to Sam that he wants to be more than friends with her, but doesn't want Tucker around with them because he thinks he's a loser. Sam immediately stands up for Tucker and says that he's one of her best friends and he comes with the whole package if Gregor wants to be with Sam. Gregor gets frustrated and starts showing his true colours, that he has a fake accent, name, and lied about where he's from to impress Sam. He really did seem like a cool guy throughout the episode until this point which was a shame that he had to be a sleazy person 🥲 I'm glad that Gregor was not a part of the Guys in White, that he had his own plot separate from them. Sam showing that she cares about her friendship with Tucker was also nice to see during this scene 🥹

I love the ending as well when Sam and Danny make up; where they both apologize to each other. Sam wasn't in the wrong for not believing Danny about Gregor because she had no clue he's been lying to her, and Danny didn't know that either of course. He also apologizes for betraying Sam's trust and spying on her, which I appreciate. Danny can make bad decisions and still make up for it afterwards 😊 Seeing Sam's insecurity about no one who's genuine liking her is really sad to me because even though she's a hard core goth with a tough exterior to her at times, deep down she wants to be liked for who she is. Danny lets her know how amazing of a person she is and also showing how much he likes her as well (we all see it Danny 😏).

Overall I really enjoyed this episode 😊 Sam, Danny, and Tucker all had good roles during it and you see how much they all care about each other. They all felt like themselves too; they didn't feel out of character to me. I may be a little bias since I like Sam and Danny's relationship 🥹 The only thing I wish we saw more of is Danny and Sam's relationship progress more throughout the series instead of just a couple of episodes and then not do anything about it later from what happens in them (the Ember episode in S1 with Danny and Sam blushing at each other a lot as an example). From the episodes I have seen of them though, I really like how their friendship and relationship is portrayed and I can't wait to see more of it as time goes (I hope they show it more) 🥹

[haerinari]

Ballerina - Shotaro

paring: bestfriend!shotaro x fem!reader

genre: friends lo lovers, fluff.

summary: he was always in your ballet presentations, he was always encouraging you to chase your dream. he loved watching you doing what you loved the most, even if it was not him.

Love 119 Series: wonbin, sungchan, eunseok, anton, shotaro, sohee, seunghan.

want to keep reading? click here ⬇️

“Are going to the theatre tonight?” you asked while packing your ballet shoes and clothes in your back pack.

“Of course” your best friend, shotaro, said from your bed. “You know i wouldn’t miss a presentation from you”

“That’s why you are the most wonderful best friend in the world” you told him with a smile.

Best friends, just that. You’re best friend.

“Yeah, bestfriends…” shotaro said in a whisper, allowing only himself to hear what he was saying.

“Did you said something?”

“Oh no, just saying i’m excited to see you tonight”

Tonight you were going to perform one of your favorite ballet dances ever, “The Swan Lake”.

“Gosh i’m dying of excitement” you exclaimed. “If i do something wrong i would die of embarrassment, can you imagine if i fall?”

“You’re going to be perfect, you are perfect. That’s how you’ve been always”

Since a couple months ago, Shotaro started saying those kind of things to you. At first you didn’t pay much attention to it, he has been always the type of touchy best friend, giving you hugs and sometimes holding your hand. But from a few weeks now you have been felling this type of… something in your stomach, butterflies are they called? Of course every time you feel them you drawn them away, but then shotaro said something cute to you and they rise again.

“Thanks Taro”

Hours passed and your presentation finally came, you were playing the white swan, so it was a really important role for you. It was perfect, you pushed yourself so hard that the presentation was incredible, perfect.

“You were a.ma.zing” your bestfriend said emphasizing the last words. “ I bring you this…”

“YOU BROUGHT ME TULIPS!?” you exclaimed, seeing the bouquet of flowers that he was hiding behind his back. “YOU KNOW HOW I LOVE TULIPS!!”

“Yeah i know” he laughed. “That what i bought them”

“I love you with all my heart Osaki Shotaro” you thanked him giving him a big, tight hug. You didn’t knew the impact your words had into him, his heart beating faster due to how closer your bodies were.

He loved watching you doing ballet, he loved you.

“First position… Second position… Third position…—Kazuha keep your back straight— Forth position… Fifth position… Rest” your ballet teacher said.

You had ballet practice almost every day, making difficult going out with shotaro. And the weekends you had free, you spend them with your family.

Although shotaro would rather have you on his bed while watching your favorite movies, he went to see you practice every day he could, taking you to eat something after.

Today was no exception, a few minutes after the practice started, you saw him poking his head through the door with a big smile on his face. He waved at you, you gave him a smile saying hello too. What you didn’t notice was that maybe you smile at him too much, and of course your teacher saw you smiling at the boy that was on the door.

“y/n even tho you did good in our presentation two weeks ago, that doesn’t allow you to spend all your practice smiling at your boyfriend that is on the door” she said with a firm tone.

“Huh? He’s not my boyf—”

“You should probably tell that to him, he comes here every. single. day to watch you dance” your teacher cut you off. “If you’re not in love with him, he surely is with you”

You gave a little glance at the door and shotaro was not there anymore. Shotaro? In love with me? Impossible, we are just friends. Best friends.

Best friends?

Best friends.

And why do you think about him all the time? Why do you want him to hold your hand and hug you forever? If he isn’t in love with you, now you know you are definitely with him.

After practice ended, shotaro took you out to eat your favorite, spicy noodles. Every time you ate that with him, you could spend hours laughing at his poor tolerance to spicy food.

“My tongue is burning” he said poking his tongue out, you laughed.

“It’s NOT spicy, shotaro”

“Yes it is, you just like torturing me. The things i do for you y/n… the things i do for you”

“It’s not my fault you can’t eat spicy food, i do enjoy watching you eating tho, it’s funny how you’re always complaining”

“I enjoy watching you eat too”

“Tsk, why?” you said while eating more noodles.

“I enjoy watching you doing whatever, dancing, eating, sleeping, studying. I love watching you doing any-”

“Stop saying things like that, taro” you cut him off, the butterflies in your stomach appearing again.

You couldn’t ruin your friendship with shotaro, he has been your best friend since you remember. You are not supposed to like your best friend, not in that way.

“Why?” he asked, turning his whole body in your direction.

“Whatever effect your words have on me, you have to stop them. My stomach is doing backflips right now” you confessed.

“That’s not something bad”

“It wouldn’t be bad if you were not my best friend, you are not supposed to make your best friend feel those kind of things” you told him, looking down and playing with your own hands.

“Just get the hint y/n” Shotaro answered, putting his hand in your chin and forcing you to look directly into his beautiful eyes.

“What?”

“I thought you would be smart enough to discover it by yourself” he giggled.

“I really don’t have any idea of what are you talking about right now”

“y/n, me, Osaki Shotaro, i’m in love with you”

“no you’re not”

“yes i am”

“no you’re not”

“yes. i am” he smiled softly.

“Shotaro, I… i’m in love with you too. It’s just that i wasn’t sure if you liked me back, and i didn’t want to lose your friendship so i tried to burry my feelings but-”

Shotaro caught you completely off guard, his lips went directly into yours. The kiss was sweet, it was like if all the feelings both of you were trying to hide, were finally coming out. One of your hands was cupping his cheek while the other one was in his neck, pressing him more closer to you. You have been waiting so much for this momento to come that you didn’t want to waste any second.

“You know, in the bottom of my heart a kinda knew you like me too” he said breaking the kiss, smiling brightly.

“And why is that?”

“Your hand always shake when i hold it”

“Damn it, i thought it wasn’t that obviously” your cursed.

“It’s cute”

“You’re cute”

“Aww how lovely, do you want to go out with me tomorrow?” he asked.

“Are we going to eat spicy noodles?”

“Yes”

“It sounds perfect to me” you answered back, kissing his cheek.

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

10 BL Boys That I Want "Carnally"

aka The Horny List

I was tagged by @my-rose-tinted-glasses @twig-tea @rocketturtle4 and @nieves-de-sugui 🤍 Thank you so much! And sorry I am late to the game! I am lying down with a cold right now... what means I had a little time to think about this list and to respect my own weak heart for bad boys and puppy guys... The heart wants what the heart wants...

Starting the list with one of the softest and warmest bad boys out there right now:

Mhok from Last Twilight

He stole my heart from the beginning and never gave it back. I guess he will keep it for eternity. And that is totally fine! He has the biggest heart and is the biggest green flag disguised as a red flag that is walking the bl-world right now. I love how he looks at Day, how he takes care for him and how he slowly fell for him.

I guess the second one doesn't come as a surprise when you look at my profle pic:

Boeing from Only Friends

He is just sex on a stick and I am still mad that he got introduced so late into the show. He would have been so much fun to watch destroying the whole "friend group" piece by piece. I would have watched such a show. Well I guess I would watch a show in which he just leans out of the pool like that for 40 minutes straight and I wouldn't be mad...

On third we have our first couple, because one doesn't work without the other:

DongWook and DoHyun from A Breeze Of Love

I was so freaking happy seeing those two wanting each other. Those two were in love with each other, not just on an emotional level but on a physical level attracted to each other and the series didn't hide it! It is my favorite bl of this year and the mutual attraction played into it. And those two are just two lost puppies who wants to love and be loved and urgh! I love them!

Going on to an old crush of mine:

Forth from 2 Moons 2

Yes, it is mostly Pavel, but I really liked this soft bad boy with this rascal hair cut and the tattoos. I loved his whole character and yes in the end I am just a weak girl, because look at him!

One character I wish I could drag out of the screen and keep as my own little prince of his stupid white horse:

Yai from I Feel You Linger In The Air

He is one of the prettiest men I ever saw and his puppy eyes with which he is looking at Jom and the soft voice whenever he says his name were making me weak in the knees. He is a total romantic and just wants to love and be loved in return. He is the perfect gentleman and loyal till the end. He needs a strong partner at his side to be the best version of himself and when he dances, the whole world stops for a moment.

Coming to a very much new pic for me and it is a pairing again:

Naoki and Yamashiro from Kiss x Kiss x Kiss: Love ii Shower

I mean Naoki looked like a greek god and Yamashiro was just so sensual in this short episode. I have to confess, I couldn't find a version with subtitles, so I don't know exactly what they were talking about, but in the end, did I really care that much, especially when they started using a language I could understand very good? No, not really. Sometimes I just like looking at beautiful people kissing each other.

One of my long-lasting loves:

Mark from Love Mechanics

I adore War. I love him so much and I am going feral when Jack & Joker really comes real next year. He has one of the best faces out there. He looks good crying and being evil and of course laughing. And Mark was such a lost puppy prick and Vee treated him really shitty for most of the times, but because I love Vee too, I can't be too hard on him. But Mark, I want to give him a hug... everytime all the time!

And on we go with another recent catch for my eyes:

Phaya from The Sign

He is such a flirt and he makes it very clear that he likes Tharn and I love that for us. He is one of the people I want to be hold in their arms just like Tharn here. I can't wait for those two to finally give in to their feelings! And for the mystical plot to unfold itself more, because I really want to know what is going on! And I want those two to save each other.

The next one is called Papi Chulo on TikTok and I can see why:

Sailom from Wedding Plan

The series might not be the best one out there and Papi Chulo might be frustrating for some people, but I loved them both! Lom is such a treat and for most of the times I understand why he acted like he did. And after he came clean with Namnuea he was the best boyfriend/fiancé. And he has one of the best smiles out there and such a cute mole!

Closing this list with the one character I am going feral at the moment whenever he is on screen:

Prom from Playboyy

He has this pure lust in his eyes whenever he looks at Nont and I love it. I don't know if I would trust Prom, but be sure if this man wants to put on a mask and punish me in his basement I would let him... He is one of my guilty pleasures right now and I would watch the series just for him and his fucked up relationship with Nont.

This was fun! I am so late to the game, I am not tagging anyone, because I know many have done it already and I don't want to double tag :) But if you see this and want to do it yourself, feel free to make your own list and tag me, so I can have a look at your picks 😊

[tlbodine]

Overthinking: Piano Lessons Can Be Murder

Here's one that totally slipped my radar as a kid. The first time I have ever seen or heard of this book was when I was pulling up the list to re-read these in order. Isn't that strange? Tell me if you read this one as a kid.

Piano Lessons Can Be Murder is Goosebumps #13. There was also a television series episode for it, so it can't have been that obscure. So what's the verdict - hidden gem or forgettable addition? Let's overthink it.

First, the Plot: Jerry and his family just moved into a new house. He's a bit of a prankster, and before the movers have even left, he's pranked his parents, who are not amused. Unfortunately for him, this has now shot his credibility, because they will treat him like The Girl Who Cried Monster for the rest of this book.

Up in the attic, Jerry and his dad find an old piano, presumably left over by a previous tenant. His dad asks if he'd be interested in playing it, and Jerry decides sure, that could be cool, so they arrange for him to start taking lessons from an overzealous Santa Claus lookalike named Dr. Shreek.

In the meantime, the piano begins gaslighting Jerry, playing music seemingly only he can hear. Eventually, he spots the ghost responsible, a girl whose flesh melts off her skull in the best scare scene in the book. But nobody else can see the ghost, and nobody believes him about it, although after the third or fourth time of Jerry insisting he's not pranking his parents, they send him to a psychiatrist, who also doesn't believe him. Oh well.

Jerry's piano lessons are going well, and Dr. Shreek keeps muttering about what truly wonderful, excellent hands Jerry has. After a few lessons at home, he invites him to attend his music school, which is a big Gothic building full of little private rooms. Nobody else ever seems to come in or out, but it's always bustling with music.

At the school, he meets Mr. Toggle, an inventor and resident tech guy (??) who makes a bunch of cool inventions, like a floor-sweeping machine that also happens to look like a monster, and a hat that plays a keyboard with only your eye movements.

Jerry makes a friend at school named Kim. She plays violin, but when he tells her about Dr. Shreek she gets real weird about it. Later she admits to him that she's heard some scary rumors about the school, of the "kids go in but they don't come out" variety. Jerry dismisses it at first, but there was that incident with a piece of Dr. Toggle's "broken equipment" crying "help me" from a cabinet so maybe he should pay attention to that.

Another run-in with the ghost confirms what Jerry was beginning to suspect: All the rumors about Dr. Shreek are true. But before she can clarify or give any further information, Jerry starts screaming and his parents come to see what's going on. He says he doesn't want to play piano anymore and demands they get rid of the instrument. They tell him he has to go to one more piano lesson and then he can quit after he tells Dr. Shreek in person.

Predictably, when he delivers this news, Dr. Shreek responds by trying to take Jerry's hands from him. As he flees, Jerry realizes that all of the practice rooms are full of disembodied hands floating over instruments. He bumps into Mr. Toggle, who at first appears to rescue him, but then reveals that he's the real mastermind here -- Dr. Shreek (and all of the other instructors) are animatronics! He's in the business of chopping hands off of students because (as any artist can attest) hands are too hard to make.

Fortunately, the ghost shows up at this moment to tell Jerry that she had tried to warn him. She was a student here, too, and used to live in his house, and she wanted to scare him away from playing piano so he would be spared. That didn't work at all so now she's taking direct action. She summons the ghosts that belong to all of those disembodied hands and they swarm Mr. Toggle, dragging him out into the woods never to be seen or heard from again.

Jerry gives up piano and picks up a new hobby: playing baseball. Everybody says he has wonderful hands...

Overthinking It: This one is on the shorter side, 124 pages, but feels repetitive. I think it would have been stronger and more frightening as a short story, maybe, because we can only see "Jerry hears a piano, yells about it, his parents don't believe him" so many times before we start to get bored of it. Also, the cover kind of gives everything away on this one, and if it didn't, you're going to catch on pretty quickly where this is headed the twentieth time Dr. Shreek makes a comment about Jerry's hands.

That said, this story did age well in some ways. The idea of a tech inventor who tries to create art without human flaws and intervention, but cannot make hands, is fucking hilarious in the era of gen-AI.

Once again we have a classic R.L. Stine maneuver: the real bad guy is a scientist and the ghost is benevolent. Mr. Toggle's end echoes the end of The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb, but it doesn't feel quite as well set-up. It's not really clear why the ghost (did she even get a name?) couldn't just tell Jerry what was going on. It's even less clear why she couldn't just go take care of Mr. Toggle on her own. Did he release her from the piano somehow? Maybe, but nobody ever says that.

I do think this book is like a sister book to The Girl Who Cried Monster -- its mirror image, in some ways. Where The Girl Who cried Monster was about a serial liar who gets an almost-certainly-innocent man killed, Piano Lessons Can Be Murder is about a kid who's repeatedly failed by the adults around him, who ignore the signs of danger and put him in the crosshairs of a predator. I try not to rag on Goosebumps parents too much, but these ones were pretty irritating.

If we'd seen Jerry pranking them more than once, it might have helped sell their attitude. But we only see the one joke, and don't really hear about this as an established pattern -- so his parents repeatedly refusing to believe him is frustrating. And then they see how distraught he is about his piano lessons, but still force him to go to them in person to stop, and leave him alone with the instructor? Ugh. Sure, he DID insist that piano wasn't the problem when he was having his "nightmares" about the ghost, so at least his parents did try to raise that possibility there, but still. If your kid starts having screaming night terrors after beginning private lessons with a strange old man, maybe you should stop leaving him alone with him? Just a thought.

Interesting bit of trivia: R.L. Stine originally wanted to write about a guitar, because his son was taking guitar lessons. But guitars aren't scary enough so he made it a piano. I don't know why but that's true. Pianos are scarier than guitars.

If You Liked This, THESE Will Really Give You Goosebumps:

If you didn't read them yet, go read those other Goosebumps books - The Girl Who Cried Monster and The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb for a compare-contrast with this one. It'll be a good time, I promise.

I haven't seen it, but Stine says this book was inspired in part by The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T, a 1953 film about a piano teacher who enslaves his students to play music forever (but it's OK because it's a dream). The film was written by Dr. Seuss (yes, that one). Wild, but ok.

For a similar-but-opposite take on piano-hands-horror, watch The Hands of Orlac, a 1924 silent film about a pianist who loses his hands in an accident and has them replaced with a murderer's, to tragic ends. Or, watch the 1960 remake of the film, or better yet, read the French novel by the same name that they were all inspired by.

If you enjoyed the Gothic vibes of this book and want another story where the scary ghost is actually a helpful harbinger warning against a human threat, try Guillermo Del Toro's Crimson Peak.

[biblicallyaccuratefour]

|No Mercy Rants| Rant post: Profily, the puppeteer and hiding from the truth

AND ANOTHER ONE DOWN, AND ANOTHER ONE DOWN, ANOTHER ONE BITES DA DUST- /ref

Anyways, hello, lads, lassies, fellow letter mafiosos and attack helicopters, since this is my THIRD rant on this blog, I decided to make a series out of it called the ‘No Mercy Rants’, which is a play on Undertale’s ‘No Mercy Run’. Now, to stop myself from further digressing, I’ll put in a disclaimer. (I know that PAF was done to death at this point, but bear with me- T^T)

(Disclaimer: This rant will be discussing topics of harassment and theft. If you’re not a fan of these topics, then please click off and view something else. Do NOT harass anyone mentioned, as I don’t want yous to stoop to PAF’s level. All of the testimony is screenshotted with the users’ consent.)

Now, the next one on the chopping block is @profily-and-friends, which I’ll refer to as PAF for short. So, let’s start from the beginning. In around August, 2023 (I was on my summer holidays, btw-), PAF had started posting several artworks that have been stolen from Twitter (or X, as Elon Musk puts it. Such an eejit-), Deviantart, Tumblr, and other sites. Somewhere around that time, maybe later, @knighttobreath, a user on Tumblr, started the spree of crediting the stolen art to their respective artists. This is where the drama and the beef began…

Now, a few months later, @akalikestodraw, a mutual of mine, was harassed multiple times by PAF because she ‘allegedly stole her art’. Now, take note that this is false, and that Aka has made amazing artwork on her own. She was also accused of tracing artworks. There’s also been asks sent to other users, like @justapplenothinghere, @galaxy-brushs-posts, and many other users, telling them to cancel Aka. Fortunately, no one took the steps to cancel Aka. They instead supported her. PAF told @wowwzaaxei-aster, that Aka was deactivating her account (also false). I’ve interviewed Aka on the matter, and she sees this as them trying to pin the blame on her. All of this had happened on her birthday. (Wow, that’s a shitty way to celebrate one’s bday… ) This whole thing made Aka, and her partner worried, and I’d be worried too, if I was in her place.

Another sin that PAF has committed was the harassment of other artists, requesting them to draw Profily with multiple asks, presumably using alternative or burner accounts, otherwise known as ‘sock puppets’. For some unfortunate artists who fulfil said requests are met with harsh criticism from PAF that they drew Profily ‘incorrectly’. They even get upset when their request is ignored, spamming the artists’ inboxes. I’ve seen them and their sock puppets interact with some of my posts, and the only criticism that I had from them was asking where were the other algebraliens when I made the Eight as Sans post. (In my defence, I was lazy af, and I had school shit going on).

Now, another thing I’d like to mention is that they’ve tried to cancel @talkingteardrop, another mutual of mine. There was a conversation between PAF and their sock puppets about how TD was ‘allegedly racist’, (another false claim) because they ignored PAF (I smell insane troll logic here-). They even claimed that they and TD were ‘best friends’, which they weren’t. (That pissed me off the most, as assholes in my school claimed that they were my friends, even though they’re not.)

Now, as the drama goes on, it becomes even more apparent that PAF is a manipulative puppeteer who’ll harass others to get what they want. They actively hide from the truth and tries to bend the narrative as to how they see it. Their actions have real life impacts, as it has made people feel terrible and having anxiety about going on with their business.

With that said, “What the fuck do we do now..?” Welp, for starters, block every single alt and sock puppet PAF has and report them all for harassment and art theft. Do NOT engage with them, just for your own mental health and to not waste your time and energy on them. (The fact that they use sock puppets reminds me of ZR0finix).

Make sure to drink plenty of water, get plenty of sleep and stay determined, lads. It hurts me to see that people like PAF are making this much trouble in our little community on Tumblr. (I guess my work on rants will never be done-)

Evidence under the cut-

Evidence and testimony from these files:

Knighttobreath's testimony

Talking Teardrop's testimony

Aka's testimony

Screenshots

[reinerispretty]

astronomically.

satoru gojo x f! reader. sequel to best of luck. and pause technique. third installment of the heart beats series!

masterlist

ok, this one is my favorite hehe. also wrote this back in 2022. please enjoy!

SUMMARY:

You get very, very drunk. Thankfully Gojo's there.

tws: throw up (for drunk reasons)

Nanami Kento is too good at drinking. One might not think it just by looking at him—he seems very reserved and orderly, the type that sticks to a strict routine to keep himself at optimal performance. And those things are all true, of course, but it doesn’t stop him from tossing back shots like nobody’s business. 

You, however, are not very good at drinking, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. When Nanami orders another shot, you order one too, because you don’t want him doing it alone. You’ve never liked the burn going down your throat, but they get you drunk fast , especially at the pace you’re going. Nanami probably doesn’t feel much, what with science and tallness and muscle mass and all that, but you’re hammered. Stumbling over words and feet type hammered. 

Gojo Satoru doesn’t really drink, and for good reason. He’d tell anyone who asks that he’s a massive lightweight, since he never developed much of a tolerance, what with being the strongest sorcerer and all. And that’s true, sure, but the larger reason is you. You, who is so adamant about keeping up with your friends and proving yourself that you’re willing to be your own downfall. 

You don’t need to keep up with Nanami, god knows he doesn’t expect you to, but you’ve always had a sort of…inferiority complex. You want to prove to other people that you’re strong before they have the chance to doubt you, even if you’ve known said people for over a decade. You’ve gotten better since you’ve grown up (you used to be an aggressive little thing), but at times like these when emotions run rampant due to alcohol content, you start to fall back into old habits. 

Tonight’s your birthday, and it’s probably the only day of the year you’ll allow yourself to act like this, so carefree and unbidden. You’re sipping on your cocktail which is arguably more juice than liquor, thanks to a quick exchange between Nanami and the bartender. You’ve got one hand propping up your head, and you’re looking between Gojo and Nanami as they talk. 

From behind dark glasses, Gojo’s eyes flash to meet yours. He gives you a wink that has you blushing before he turns back to your friend, and his large hand rests comfortably on your knee. Your fingers wrap around his, and you hum along with the song playing through the speakers. 

Gojo likes you like this. He likes you all the time, but drunk you is a favorite of his. You’re a lot less careful about what comes out of your mouth, so you’re far more likely to compliment him. Mostly though, you seem relaxed, and he knows it’s because he’s there. You don’t worry about anything because you know he’ll take care of you, and it makes his heart swell that you put so much trust in him. He wants to soak in every moment, so Gojo always offers himself up as the designated driver. 

“I like your tie,” You interrupt their conversation to tell Nanami for the seventeenth time that night. 

He doesn’t miss a beat, sending a relaxed smile your way and saying, “Thank you, (Y/N). I appreciate it.” You grin so widely at him your eyes squint, then return to your people-watching. 

The bar is crowded, has been since you all arrived, and you aren’t normally someone who enjoys crowds but you’d insisted on coming. You like drinking with your friends. It reminds you of a time when everything wasn’t so complicated and serious. It was a long time ago. 

You know you’ve reached the bottom of your drink when your sips become loud, the straw bringing up absolutely nothing. You pout, and turn to Gojo to ask him to order you another drink, when suddenly his face is inches from yours. 

“How’s a burger sound?” He asks, and your eyes sparkle at the prospect of food. You don’t even realize it’s being used as a distraction.

“Okay!” You nod eagerly, and you turn toward Nanami. “Are you comin’ with us?” 

“I think it’s best if I head home,” He tells you, and your bottom lip wobbles just slightly. 

“But Nanamin,” You say, and they know you’re absolutely wasted if you’re using his nickname. “Ish my birthday .” Sober you would respect your friend’s wishes, but drunk you just wants to spend time with him! Nanami is a busy person who keeps to his routine, leaving little room for the two of you to actually hang out. If it isn’t scheduled in advance, he won’t be there. (Ironically, if it is scheduled, it’s unlikely Gojo will show up. It’s a good thing your birthday is so important to them.) 

“I’ll walk with you,” He offers. “But once you arrive, I’m going home.” Nanami checks his watch. “It’s already past one. I’m not as young as I used to be.” 

“I think he’s calling us old,” Gojo whispers loudly to you, and you gasp. 

“Nanamin! Don’ disrespect your elders!” 

Gojo pays the tab and the three of you leave the bar, which is still thrumming with the vibrancy of night life. Your hand firmly holds Gojo’s, swinging it back and forth as you pour your heart out to Nanami. 

“I’m really thankful you came tonight, Nanamin,” You say. “I mish you a lot. We used ta spend soooo much time together, ‘member?” If a representation of your heart was inaccurately drawn by Gojo, ninety-five percent of it would belong to him while the other five percent would go to Nanami. Although you’d met Gojo first, you’d been actual friends with Nanami for longer. (These timelines blur and coalesce depending on who’s telling them.) 

Nanami hums. “Yes, back when we attended the same school and didn’t have full time jobs.” 

You groan. “I think we should jus’ quit an’ make Gojo take care of us!” 

“Gladly,” He says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Nanami would never allow it and neither would sober you, but he’d spend all of his money on you if he could. 

You lean into his touch completely, something you would normally only do in the privacy of your home. You’re very reserved when it comes to intimacy, which Gojo respects, but he also lives for these moments. 

You’re talking animatedly to Nanami but Gojo isn’t listening. He’s too focused on how the neon lights shine against your hair and how small but right your hand feels in his. How your laugh rises above the noise of the city but still sounds more melodic than any song he’s ever heard before. 

Gojo runs a hand through his hair. What did his students call it? Down bad? (Astronomically, Kugisaki would add later.) 

They finally reach the burger place and Nanami departs, but not before you give him a bone-crushing hug. Gojo laughs as he sees the surprise on his friend’s face. He hadn’t been expecting your strength. 

Before you can get too sad over Nanami’s departure, Gojo steers you inside. There’s a bit of a line, since other drunk people also had the same idea, but he doesn’t mind. Just means more time with you. 

“What d’you want?” He asks. You hum, finger tapping against your chin as you think. 

“Cheeseburger, large fry, an’ a milkshake, please.” 

“Got it, but I feel like I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re lactose intolerant.” 

“Ish my birthday ,” You grumble up at him, but you rest your head against his arm. “If I wanna shit my brains out later, I should be able to.” 

He snorts. “You know technically, it’s not your birthday anymore. We passed midnight a long time ago.” 

You look up at him, eyebrows drawing together. “We celebrated your birthday for a whole week!” 

“Well, yeah, but that’s me.” You scoff at him but he catches the smile on your face, and presses a kiss to your rounded cheek. 

He orders (and pays) for you, and the two of you claim a booth as you wait for your food. He takes advantage of your lack of inhibitions and sits on the same side as you, enjoying the way your thighs touch against his. Such a simple thing, and yet when it comes to you, it’s everything. 

Gojo can feel eyes on him, hear friends whispering to each other about how hot he is (a fact, not a personal opinion), but he’s only looking at you. You, who’s decided that now is a good time to type out a thank you message to everyone who made your special day so special. 

The bar was more of a close friends event, but the guest list for dinner had been much broader. Shoko and Mei Mei were in attendance, and somehow you all wound up at the same restaurant as the students. It might’ve been a smidge inappropriate, but you’d looked so happy to see everyone there that Gojo didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t planned. 

Utahime was there as well. She’d shot him a death glare which immediately faded into a bright smile as soon as her eyes landed on you. The two of you had always had a grumpy girl club thing going on that he’d never understood. Aside from himself and Nanami, Utahime is your other best friend. He has to admit it makes him a bit jealous, especially because he’s certain she’s trying to steal you away to Kyoto. 

“How do you spell ‘extracurricular?’’ You ask him. 

“What are you even writing?” He snatches your phone out of your grasp. His eyes skim the message to find that it’s entirely incoherent and riddled with spelling errors that you’d be mortified to find in the morning. He deletes it all and slips your phone into his pocket. “You’ll thank me for that tomorrow.” 

You roll your eyes but don’t object, which is a win in Gojo’s book. After a moment, you speak again. “Do ya think people had fun tonight?” Your voice is soft and he can tell you’re a little lost in your thoughts. 

“Doesn’t matter if anyone else had fun. All that matters is whether or not you did.” He raises an eyebrow. “Did you?” 

“Did you ?” You tap your fingernails against the table. “I know I’m not…” You deflate, some sort of criticism of yourself lost on your lips, and Gojo needs to rectify this. 

He slots his fingers between yours. “Of course I’m having fun! Wouldn’t be here with you if I wasn’t.” You smile because you know he means it. He’s not the sort of person to waste his time. 

“Order eighty three!” The cashier calls out, and Gojo’s hand slips from yours as he stands to get your food. 

The girl at the counter’s face goes pink as he approaches. She hands him the paper bag and asks, “Need anything else?” 

“A few napkins, please.” You’re a messy eater when you’re drunk. 

The girl pulls napkins out from under the counter, but before she slides them over, she takes out a pen and scrawls a phone number on one of them. Gojo’s used to this sort of thing. He flashes the girl a smile as he takes the napkins and heads back to you. He has no intention of calling her. 

Still, all it takes is one look at your face and he knows that you’ve seen the whole exchange. Your lips are turned down into a frown, and you stare angrily up at him. He ignores you as he pulls the food out of the bag. 

When he’s sitting back down again, your hand snakes behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss. It’s loose tongues and bumping teeth and perhaps a little inappropriate for such an establishment, but it invigorates him. Electricity rumbles through his veins, setting his body alight. He’d known kissing you was going to be dangerous—even pressing his lips to your cheek or forehead fogs his mind for a few seconds, but it’s a drug that only gets better and better. 

You pull away first. The kiss couldn’t have lasted for more than a few seconds, but he can see the flush on your face and how swollen your lips look from his teeth nipping against them. He grins. “You’re adorable when you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous!” You protest, shoving french fries into your mouth. “Ish just annoying, you know? How hard is it to make the educated assumption that a man an’ woman sitting together in a burger place at almost two in the morning are dating?” 

Drunk you is far more outward with her jealousy, and he loves it. Thrives off it, in fact. 

You bite into your burger. “Wish we had rings,” You say, more to yourself than him. “That way everybody’d know.” 

He stiffens. Is this something you’ve been thinking about? The two of you had only been officially dating for a few months, but he’d considered himself yours for years. The thought of marrying you crosses his mind at least once a day, but he’d kept quiet for fear of spooking you. You’re someone who works through things in their own time. See the last thirteen years as an example. 

Gojo ignores what you’ve just said, more for your sake than his, but he files it away. The two of you will come back to that later. Preferably when he’s had time to stop by a jeweler. 

Faces stuffed and bellies full, you leave the burger place and head back down the street to Gojo’s car. He’s got a hand wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling as you walk. You’ve become rather quiet, drifting into that sleepy drunk phase now that you’ve eaten. The night is drawing to a close. 

Gojo helps you into his car, buckling you in because your hands keep fumbling. As he slides into the driver seat he asks, “Your place or mine?” 

Your answer surprises him. “Can we go to your house, please?” You slump in your seat so you can lean into him. “Your pillows smell like you.” 

“Anything for the birthday girl,” He says as he pulls onto the street, and you give a tired cheer. 

You don’t come over to Gojo’s house very often. Not because you don’t like it, but because he’s never there. He’s usually at Jujutsu High or traveling, so he only really sees his place when he’s going to sleep. And since you got together, he’s been choosing to do that at yours. 

Although it’s smaller than his, he likes your place a lot more. It’s lived-in, curated with care, and it feels so wholeheartedly like you that even before you admitted your feelings for him, it felt more like home than his own. 

You’re nearly asleep by the time he pulls up to the building. He helps you inside, greeting the late-night doorman with a nod before guiding you into the elevator. “Seventeenth floor,” You say, proud of yourself for remembering, and he smiles at you. 

“You stalking me or something?” You giggle as his arms encircle your waist, his fingers playfully tickling your sides. 

Gojo’s home is a penthouse apartment, so the elevator opens directly into it. It’s private, which means that even though the rest of his building is filled with wealthy elites, his floor can only be accessed by a single elevator with a passcode. It fills you with pride that you’re one of only two people that know it. 

You slip off your shoes and toss your coat on the rack like you own the place, but before you can make your way towards the bed, Gojo drags you into the kitchen. He fills a glass of water for you and takes a bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet. 

“Drink,” He orders as he presses it to your lips. You try to take the cup but he won’t let you, so you’re stuck staring up at him as he force-hydrates you. Once you’re finished, he fills it up again and makes you take the painkillers. 

You’re onto the bathroom next. “‘M not letting you give me a bath,” You tell him. 

“Of course not,” He scoffs. “That’s a tomorrow activity.” And despite your glare, there’s still a hint of a smile on your face. 

He opens a cabinet and pulls out makeup wipes, and you spot a multitude of other feminine products. They’ve likely been left here over time, or he purchased them to make sure his guests were more comfortable. It doesn’t send off warning bells to see it. Instead it just carves a little into the darkest part of your heart, where the regret of not doing any of this sooner lives. 

“Did it make you sad, too?” You ask as he gently wipes the makeup from your face. He raises an eyebrow. “When I’d sleep with people who weren’t you.” 

Gojo’s always had a bit of a reputation for being a manwhore, and it had always confused you how he could declare his undying love for you and then bring random hookups back to his house. It wasn’t until you accepted your feelings for him that you realized he was doing the same thing you were: searching for each other in the embrace of strangers. You can’t even count how many times you’ve had to hold your tongue to avoid calling out his name when sleeping with people you pretended were him. 

Gojo’s smile wavers slightly, and he clears his throat as he avoids your gaze. His eyes hold infinity and all of his emotions, and he knows that nobody can read him better than you. “Yeah,” He agrees, his voice just a bit hoarse. “Yeah, it made me sad, too.” 

He lets you finish scrubbing the last of your eye makeup, and stands in the doorway as you wash your face and brush your teeth. He brings you one of his tshirts to wear as pajamas (he is a man, after all), and once you’re all clean he brings you to his bed. It’s not nearly as comfortable as yours, unfortunately, but Gojo enjoys the way you sigh happily once you have his comforter wrapped around you. You’re asleep within seconds. 

He doesn’t go to bed just yet, though. You don’t have any clothes at his house to wear the next day, so he does a bit of online shopping. You’re going to hate him for spending so much money on you. However will he endure it? 

It’s a few hours later and Gojo’s just finished checking out at the third store when you start to stir. He pauses, waiting to see if you’ll fall back asleep, but then you’re standing up and wobbling into his ensuite bathroom. You slam the door shut behind you, and it’s the clicking of the lock that indicates to him that something’s wrong. 

He knocks against the door, calling your name. You’re quiet, but he can hear your sniffles. He imagines that you’re crying over the toilet. “Can I come in?” 

You unlock the door for him and his heart melts at how absolutely pitiful you look. Tears are welling in your eyes and streaking down your cheeks, and you try to wipe them away as he sits down next to you but they just keep coming. “I can’t—” You hiccup, “I feel so sick but it won’t, I don’t want to—” You shake your head. 

“I think you’ve got to force it this time,” Gojo says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. More tears fall at the prospect. You hate throwing up. You don’t like doing it, and if you didn’t feel so horrible right now you’d probably just ride through the nausea until it passed. Sadly, it was so uncomfortable that it woke you. “Do you want me to help you?” 

You frown at him. “I’m not going to ask you to stick a finger down my throat.” 

“I’d do it for you,” And that makes you laugh. He presses a kiss to your temple and gathers your hair in one hand. “Come on, you can do it,” He encourages. “I’m right here.” 

You inhale a deep breath and reach your finger as far back as it’ll go. Your gag reflex triggers and suddenly you’re throwing up into the toilet, and more tears start streaming down your face. You hate this feeling. Hate it hate it hate it. 

But Gojo’s there, as promised, and his large hands smooth over your shoulders to soothe you as he keeps your hair out of your face. “Let it out. You’ll feel so much better once it’s over.” 

You stay there for a while, and once you’re certain there’s nothing left in your stomach, Gojo helps you clean up. You’re tired and still a bit drunk, so you cry as you apologize to him. He shushes you and wipes your face with a damp washcloth, and makes you brush your teeth again. 

He doesn’t have to, but he carries you back to bed. He doesn’t let go as he turns off the lights, nor as he settles between the sheets. He holds you firmly to him and you don’t protest. 

“Do you feel better?” He says into the darkness, and you nod against his shoulder. 

--- --- --- --- ---

The next morning, you regret absolutely everything . 

As much as you’d have liked to spend the day sleeping, at precisely six in the morning, Ijichi calls to tell the both of you that you’re needed at Jujutsu High. You let Gojo handle most of the talking, since you can’t be bothered to leave the shroud of blanket you’ve surrounded yourself with. 

“No need to call (Y/N),” Gojo says, “She’s right next to me! I’ll let her know.” With that, he hangs up, and uses a finger to lift the blanket just slightly so he can see you. “Ijichi said we need to go to the school.” 

“I heard,” You say. Gojo had been kind enough to put him on speaker. 

“He said Yaga would like us there in an hour.” 

“I heard .” 

“I told him he didn’t need to call you since you spent the night.” 

You huff, flinging the covers off of you so you can stand up, which only exacerbates your headache more. “If this is your way of annoying me out of bed, you’re doing phenomenally.” You storm off, slamming the bathroom door shut and locking it. You turn on the shower and Gojo’s at the door, knocking. 

“Hey! I thought you were gonna let me give you a bath!” The handle rattles. “I have to get ready too, y’know!” 

“Use the guest bathroom!” You shout back as you step beneath the sweet relief of hot water. 

If you’re with Gojo, you’re going to be late anyway, so the both of you take your time getting ready. His online purchases are carried up by the staff, clean and ready for you to use, and you only snip at him a teensy bit for spending money on you. You’re thankful that you don’t have to greet your peers in last night’s outfit. 

You fix yourself a cup of coffee to drink on the way, but as soon as you and Gojo step outside, the bright, sunny day blinds you. Had you become a vampire in the middle of the night? You scowl, raising your hand to block out the sun’s rays, but it’s no use. 

Gojo maneuvers around you to block out the light, but his teasing grin is just as annoying to look at. “Something wrong?” 

“Shut up,” You grumble. “Why’s it so goddamn bright?” You don’t think you can last another second in this light. 

Gojo snickers. “All these years and you haven’t learned your limits.” 

“I can still kick your ass, hungover or not.” You pull him back into the shadows. “Give me your sunglasses.” He raises an eyebrow from beneath his blindfold. “It’s not like you’re going to use them today, anyway. Let me borrow them.” 

He pulls them from his pocket and you unfold them, placing them onto your face. You exhale as you step back into the light. “Much better!” You toss him a smile over your shoulder. “Ready?” 

Gojo needs approximately five seconds to gather himself. He knows he looks great in his glasses, but he’d vehemently argue that they look even better on you. Seeing you wear his stuff always does something to him, but the sunglasses? 

He thinks of cold showers, grandmothers, and sour foods to keep himself from imagining how you might look wearing his sunglasses and nothing else.

[saylorsaysstop]

⭐️ TOP 10 READS ⭐️

I wasn't really dabbling with the book community when I picked up reading again in September 2023 but now in January 2024, I've read 32 books (not a lot but I'm picking up speed finally!) and here are my TOP 10 reads so far on my reading journey 💘📚

Starting at #10...

#10: ICEBREAKER | Hannah Grace

This was one of the first books I read. It was also my first sports romance. I didn't think hockey would be it for me but WOWZA did Nate Hawkins change me. His and Stassie's relationship was a quick one that took my breath away. The spice? You wouldn't have convinced me of the fllth in this book when I picked it up. Honestly, the pages moaned when I opened them. Such a good read! Highly recommend. I'm currently reading WILDFIRE (Russ and Aurora's story) and cannot WAIT for Henry's book! He was my favorite side character 💘

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

#9: SECRETLY YOURS | Tessa Bailey

Secretly Yours was my introduction to Tessa Bailey who has honestly become one of my top 5 authors. I love her writing style. A third person typically isn't my cup of tea, but Tessa can change you. This was a great take on a little grumpy x mega sunshine action. Julian Vos is a sucker for his girl and secretly a little freak too. Absolutely loved this! Also, I loved the secret admirer letters back and forth. So good.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️

#8: Unfortunately Yours | Tessa Bailey

This is the second book after Secretly Yours. This follows Julian's sister, Natalie, and August Cates. We meet both of these people in Secretly Yours. There's nothing I love more than a marriage of convenience trope with a little splash of enemies to lovers, but knowing that the MMC has fallen in love first. August Cates? He is a WHOLE MAN. An ex-Marine who is set to keep his late best friend's vineyard dreams alive, his and Natalie's explosive relationship is a succulent read... And in the bedroom? Well, let's just say. He makes it fit. 🔥

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

#7: ADDICTED TO YOU | Krista & Becca Ritchie

The first book in the Calloway Sisters series follows two very complicated people, Loren Hale and Lily Calloway. Best friends since childhood who both face terrible addictions (Loren is an alcoholic and Lily is a sex addict), they've been playing their families for years that they've been together. They do this so they can help others hide their addictions. But when everything blows up and each realizes the other does have a problem, everything goes south. This book had me in tears. It is emotionally tragic and I adore LiLo SO much. I've read Ricochet and am going to start the 3rd book either this month or in February... Also, you may just fall in love with Connor Cobalt. I said what I said 💗

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

#6: FLAWLESS | Elsie Silver

When in doubt, remember what Big & Rich said. Save a horse, ride a cowboy. If you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy. My first cowboy romance ever and I was hooked from the very first page. We meet Rhett Eaton, a playboy bull rider with a hatred for milk unlike no other. He needs his reputation fixed and handled. Enter Summer. The most sunshiney person you'd ever meet gives this bull rider a run for his money. And the sex? Oh wowza. It's so good.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

#5: A COURT OF THORNS & ROSES | SJM

My introduction to ACOTAR started off strong. I adored Tamlin (if you know, you know) we follow Feyre Archeron and her journey. I can't say much except you need to read this. It is one of the best series I've ever read, which is why my next 4 are ACOTAR too.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️

#4: A COURT OF MIST & FURY | SJM

ahhhhhhHHHHHH. I CRIED LIKE A BABY. RHYS?? Rhys is my husband. I can't help it.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

#3: A COURT OF WINGS & RUIN | SJM

I cried even harder reading this one. Again, I can't spoil it.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

#2: A COURT OF SILVER FLAMES | SJM

This is by far my FAVORITE. I am a Nesta girly. Deep down, out of all the Archeron sisters, I relate to Nesta the most. And Cassian is my favorite bat boy... Gah lay. I cannot wait for Azriel's book.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

#1: HAUNTING ADELINE | H.D. CARLTON

My number one book... Is Haunting Adeline. I don't want to hear any negativity. This book changed me. I've got so many book boyfriends, but Zade Meadows beats them all. He is unstoppable. This book had me screaming at the top of my lungs and had me fighting for air. Zade had me questioning everything about myself. He is the dark boyfriend for me. I have Hunting Adeline and desperately want to read, but was trying to get through some of my TBR. I started it and cried by the third chapter so I had to put it down because I just KNOW Hunting will wreck me.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

[charkie-ee]

💚💛❤️ Third Life Series in 2024 (happy 3 years of third life!!) 💚💛❤️

“This series went from being like ‘it’s hardcore with a gimmick!’ to ‘it’s like battle dome in here!’”

so because it has been 3 years since our beloved traffic series has started, i figured a good way to celebrate would be going back and watch 3rd life from the winners pov.

this post will basically contain notes from the 1st episode that my brain has entirely/somewhat forgotten.

if you have not watched 3rd life FULLY this is will contain spoilers! i feel like thats a given, but i'll put it here anyway.

(i was thinking about making this post just for funsies but then i checked the date and realized that it was actually 3rd life’s 3 year anniversary TODAY. fjdkjfkdjd I SO PLANNED THIS. TOTALLY!)

ONE MORE QUICK THING!!: did i forget anything? reply, or put it into the tags if theres something I missed!!

EPISODE ONE: Grian plays Minecraft… With a TWIST

. this is the first series Grian’s officially played using the proximity chat mod.

. mentioned briefly at 2:55, this is Grian’s first hardcore series he’s ever played in.

. the first person grian meets up with is BigB!

. Grian only sees RenDog once in his first episode.

. Grian was originally going to base somewhere in the flower forest (closer to where Scott and Jimmy eventually live) before basing with Scar in the desert. However, once he started building, Grian immediately disliked it, and called it the ugliest thing he’s ever built.

. Grian gives his flint and steel to Scar, which he uses to burn down Etho's dark oak tree.

. Grian hides two villagers, and originally wants to show them to Etho. However, Impulse, and Bdubs, follow, and the word gets out shortly after. *

. Scar and Grian were going to team up BEFORE Scar was killed. Scar first brings up having a monopoly on sand around the 12 minute mark.

. (not really notes but) Scar takes his shirt off for the first time at 15 minutes exactly. (i can’t believe im writing this smh)

. * Grian is invited to go back to the village after venturing to the sand biome with Scar, and trades his villagers. (he trades them for 3 diamonds, a dark oak sapling, a lava bucket, a juke box and disc, a bed, and some other lint)

. Grian explodes Scar at the 21:25 minute mark. There were 6 witnesses to his 'prank'. Impulse, Etho, Cleo, Bdubs, Tango, and Martyn. (my favorite thing about this is that Ren puts in the chat "Enchanting would have helped with that")

. Grian pledges his 1st life to Scar(didn't really forget that part, but i did forget that Grian loses his first life near the end of the series

. Pizza is first seen at the 25 minute mark exactly! (i think Pizza spawned in during a cut in Grian’s video. because i am only watching his pov, i do not know where Pizza originally cane from, this is the best estimate.)

. Grian abandons his first base in the flower forest at 26:15. This hole-in-the wall base didn’t last an episode.

. Grian and Scar originally wanted to have a monopoly over sand AND dark oak, and successfully chopped down the ‘only’ forest they saw. However, there was another not too far away from their base which ultimately ruined that monopoly. That being said, if the second dark oak forest had not been there, they might’ve had a chance at monopolizing dark oak saplings.

.💚💛❤️.

I will be doing more posts like this for all of the episodes of Grian’s pov. that being said, if i miss something that was said/a scene in a different pov, i will not include that in this post.

for now, i hope you’ve enjoyed this little forgotten-info post, and i encourage you to watch the series for yourself!

I remember watching 3rd life for the first time when the episodes were still coming out, and i’ve loved the series ever since. It was, and still is a comfort series i watch when going through tough times. I’ve met lots of people, and made lots of friends through this series, and although i don’t post a lot about it on my blog, i’m grateful to have found a community who feels the same.

thanks for reading!

.💚💛❤️.