#my brain rot for that man is out of this world

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

0v0 Leona brainrot may I request a thing on Leona x reader where reader is mute from family trauma 0v0 (note love your stuff you feed my brain rot everyday also if you) also can you make it that in the story we have Reader think Grim is now our Son/or we see little brother and we talk to only him but then as per Leona x reader we talk to Leona at some point

Arm still hurts, but I put on a brace, so LET'S GO (don't follow my example)

Thank you for the Request! Leona has consumed my thoughts as well.

Synopsis: Reader with selective mutism slowly grows fond of the cold lion.

TW: mentions of reader having a bad family life; reader has selective mutism; reader is initially scared of Leona

Selective mutism can be caused by a variety of factors such as an anxiety disorder, self-esteem issues, speech problems, and etc.. Yours stemmed from. . . poor family relationships, to put it delicately.

Coming to Twisted Wonderland was like both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because you made it out

A curse because, well, YOU WERE TOSSED INTO ANOTHER WORLD WITH NO TIME TO PROCESS. So, of course, your anxiety levels spiked.

It took you a bit to figure out how to explain to Crowley that you struggled with selective mutism, and even when you did, he took it as you trying to say you were entirely mute. You supposed you could live with that. It would definitely help quell the intrusive questions and ignorant statement if not just by a bit.

It took a while, but you managed to get comfortable enough around Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts to talk. You had grown to see them as the family you never had. A family you chose.

You weren't sure whether to classify Grim as a younger brother or a son, but you figured that wasn't all that important of a distinction for you to make. He's your family and that's what counts.

When you did finally talk for the first time around this little group they were certainly shocked, Grim more so than the ghosts. However, they were patient and allowed you the time and space to explain (even if that was because the ghosts held Grim's mouth shut).

In the end, you all decided it was probably best that you keep the reality of your muteness a secret as people knowing could cause problems (and just be annoying for those too ignorant to understand or too curious to understand personal space).

When you first met Leona, it was when you stepped on his tail in the botanical garden. You bowed profusely as a way of saying sorry, but he either didn't get it or didn't care.

"D*mn Herbivore." He growled. "You think you can just step on my tail and get away with it? Not even gonna properly apologize for waking me with your foot digging into my tail?"

Clearly, he had not been paying attention at orientation. You were never too great with confrontation, quite frankly, it scared you, so you ran. You could hear his angry shouts from behind you as you booked it out of there, but you paid no mind to his words (not that you could even hear them with the blood pumping so violently in your ears from the adrenaline).

The next time you met him, like truly met and talked to him, was after the spelldrive game when you got nailed in the head with the disk.

When the unusual group of Ace, Deuce, Jack, Ruggie, Leona, and Grim came into the infirmary you were understandably wary. Afterall, Leona hadn't exactly made a stellar first impression.

However, your opinion shifted a bit when a little ball of energy and pure joy came bursting into the room to meet Leona. You had felt some sympathy for him after seeing his dream, you didn't have the best family life either, but you also weren't a massive jerk. A hint of worry grew in your stomach when you saw the small lion jump on Leona's bed and bounce on his stomach, but you froze when you saw the man's reaction.

He may have seemed harsh to most with the way he treated and talked to the child, but you could tell he was anything but. The way his eyes softened ever so slightly and his muscles relaxed. And, if you didn't know any better, you would've sworn you saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards just a bit.

The way someone treats their family can tell you a lot. The way Leona treated Cheka told you a lot.

You turned your attention away from Leona to sign something to Deuce (he learned a bit of sign language from his mom).

Leona would have cursed had Cheka not been right there. Great. Now he felt like an *ss.

Perhaps that guilt is what led him to so easily letting you stay in Savanaclaw during book 3.

He led you up to his room and told you how to fold out the couch (it was a futon). However, other than that, he didn't say much.

The only word you heard him speak the first night was a brief "sorry". He didn't elaborate on it, but you were fairly sure you knew what he was apologizing for.

At some point, you had made a habit of lightly tugging on your friends' sleeve when you needed their attention. Out of habit, you accidentally did this to Leona once. You didn't even notice until you saw the other Savanaclaw students' horrified faces. You whipped around to apologize to Leona, but he looked entirely unbothered.

"What'd ya need?"

On the last night when you needed to get Leona's help, you didn't exactly have the option of yelling, and banging pots and pans didn't exactly cross your mind. At that moment, you were just so tired and so stressed that all you did was silently tear up.

When he noticed your crying he momentarily froze. His eyes widened to the size of saucers and he just stared at you.

You really had a knack for making Leona feel scummy.

Before he knew it, he was getting up and trudging across the room.

You flinched.

Leona mentally bashed his head into a wall repeatedly.

"I'll help. . .just. . .cut it out with the water works." He handed you a tissue box and that was that.

You grew steadily closer over time, but he didn't hear your voice until around the end of book 6.

You had gotten back from STYX and your dorm was still in shambles, so you were left to stay at Savanaclaw. Other dorms were going to offer, but before they could even open their mouths, Leona sighed dramatically loud and announced that he guessed you'd have to stay at Savanaclaw sing you had absolutely no other options.

You trudged into his room together and watched as Grim immediately conked out on a plush chair next to the couch.

Leona was about to collapse on the bed (he was too tired to shower or even change clothes) when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his torso and a wet spot forming on his chest as your tears soaked through his shirt.

He was not cut out for these kinds of situations.

Despite this thought, he soon sighed and wrapped his arms around your back as well. The two of you stood there like that for what felt like an eternity before the silence was finally broken.

And not by him.

"I-I'm so glad you're safe." Your voice was hoarse from lack of use, and your words were hard to decipher as they came out as more of choked sobs.

A million questions ran through Leona's mind at that moment, but none of them left his lips. Instead, he simply replied: "Yeah. . .'m glad you are too."

His questions could wait until tomorrow.

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[junedenim]

2014

beneath the boardwalk, part 12 (series masterlist)

fireside

warnings: slutty behavior

word count: 15k

I found out Alex and Arielle broke up through Facebook. Of course, because it's Alex we're referring to—a man who never touched social media with a 39½ foot pole—I didn't find out through a relationship status update, I found out through an article. I cursed the Facebook gods for knowing I would click on the article and nearly didn't but I did because I had to know whether it was legitimate or just gossip. The article didn't indicate much either way. I made the assumption I would hear about it if it were true and clicked off Facebook before it fully rotted my brain.

I spent the majority of January in England. I had gone back for the holiday season but had been convinced to stay through the new year through the pull of London. I caught up with old friends, most notably my old neighbor, Lee, and her two girls who I used to babysit and who were now both teenagers. I felt old.

When I returned to New York, my agent told me that one of the short stories from my upcoming book would be featured in the New Yorker. Featured, not just plain old staff writing, a full-on feature. Right up there with the likes of Shirley Jackson, Truman Capote, and George Saunders (okay, maybe not up there, but I have it in common with them). It was a nice start to the new year.

Fennel and Kaka had a dinner party in celebration, or just to have an excuse to throw a dinner party, they like those kinds of things. I wore a slutty dress Fennel provided and got drunk on champagne.

The day after this beautiful fancy party, Opal took me out for a proper celebration. Shitty bars and shitty clubs to get drunk off tequila. This was followed by the worst hangover of my life which made me vow to give up alcohol (fat chance).

Alex called me during this time and I missed it. There was a good chance people thought I was dead for several days. I didn't answer my phone and only got out of bed to vomit. I never returned Alex's call but he called me right before Arctic Monkeys performed at Madison Square Garden. I assume the call was some form of an invitation to attend but I wouldn't have gone anyway. I watched their cover of "All My Loving" on YouTube a week later and decided that I was only pissed that I missed that song.

Through Fennel, I had met Isaac Gaunt, a fashion photographer from London. He asked to do a photoshoot with me, which could've been a good way to be sex trafficked but considering the guy had shot for Vogue, I took my chances.

Isaac and the photos he took of me unlocked a whole new world for me. One where I would be referred to for my looks. All those years of being concerned over my author photo seemed to be indicating something.

My agent had no experience with fashion and graciously suggested I get another agent who specialized in it. She proved that not all agents are money-hungry monsters. So, I stayed with her and said I wanted her to handle fashion the same way she handled books because I was still a writer after all.

Because my image had cultivated somewhat of a following over the first few months of the year, I was offered more and more opportunities and got to feel like a diva when I turned down offers because I was simply "too busy." I loved it. It fed into my ego and made me feel way better about myself after feeling like shit for so long.

Of course, the buzz only lasted for so long but because I had the luxury of dictating my new career and whatever direction it was heading, I got to control the rush. I quite liked being busy too, especially when it meant getting invited to cool parties. Thus, I drank more champagne.

I got an invitation to this one party at the Museum of the City of New York. The building itself being this glorious display of Gilded Age glamour. I believe it was a fundraiser for the museum but also a celebration of the city and the talent it cultivated. I don't think I fell into that category, I just knew the right people, which is really just what it's all about. Knowing the right people.

Most people didn't know who I was and those who did recognize me didn't know I was British, which meant that they hadn't read anything I had written. So, I guess I was just a face now. I thought that would piss me off more but I liked being this mystery. I was luckily still taken seriously and people were intrigued when I said I was a writer instead of rolling their eyes and thinking I was some dimwit with looks who claimed to be a writer but actually barely knew how to string a sentence together. 

At the MCNY, on the luxurious staircase, dressed in something that was expensive and vintage and left me fearful of spilling something on it the whole night, I ran into Jackson. We stared at one another and with a nod of each of our heads, we passed one another with not a word uttered. I assume he was there with one of his clients but I went on and met up with a group of people who were slowly becoming my friends and didn't see him for the rest of the night.

It made me feel mature. I didn't feel a need to prove how fabulous I was and no need to spin the skirt of my dress around or sip my champagne with no care for him. I was perfectly comfortable with a small smile and seeing that he was doing just fine. It made me feel like I must be doing just fine too.

*

On the first coatless day of the year, I got fro-yo with Opal and her friends, Nadia, Sophie, and Mina. Opal's birthday was the following week but I would be out of town so we had a mini girl's day with the latest craze of fro-yo. I had met all the girls before but only had a close kinship with Mina after she crashed at my place following a night of clubbing.

After buying our combination of swirls, we sat in Tompkins Square along a bench. By the time our fro-yo was melted, the topic of my goings next week arose. Opal asked, "How do you feel about seeing you-know-who?"

Nadia licked her spoon clean. "Who's you-know-who?"

"My ex-boyfriend," I informed. "I'm going to a wedding next week. It's his bandmate and my friend, Katie, getting hitched."

"Your ex-boyfriend is in a band?" Sophie questioned.

It was rather odd to me that my life had grown so far outward that people didn't know about Alex. I was grateful for it, specifically in terms of my career. My life moved on and my name was no longer followed by "Alex Turner's ex-girlfriend." It had been a new discovery that past year. Be it good PR people or, more likely, people in my line of work didn't care. 

Though, I was shocked Sophie didn't know.

"What are you going to wear?" Mina asked. I went simple since I was flying in from New York. It was a soft blue slip dress. There was nothing fancy about it other than the gorgeous colour.

In regard to running into Alex, I didn't care. Well, I mostly didn't care. Okay, I cared, but I didn't actively try not to. I wanted to be friendly and my expectations didn't go further than that. I wasn't nervous about it anymore. I cared more about Katie's wedding dress than what I would be wearing. In any scenario, that was an unanticipated form of growth out of self-absorbedness that I never believed I could reach. 

*

I cry at weddings. I am reduced to a blubbering fool. It's quite embarrassing. If I wasn't me, I would be making fun of me because being vulnerable is something I'm still not comfortable with despite how emotional I am. With Jamie and Katie, it felt understandable. They were a couple I watched grow together from two awkward kids to well-adjusted adults. It was an unexpected overwhelming feeling but Katie was so beautiful and I was jet-lagged. 

After grabbing a flute of champagne, I got my emotions under wraps and had small talk with the various attendees, many of whom I hadn't seen in years. I lucked out by finding AB and Shay, who I had no clue were attending, and buddying up with them by the bar.

I sipped my champagne, talked with them, and looked out at the crowd the whole time, slightly dreading or rejoicing whenever the moment would come that Alex and I locked eyes. Eye contact was generally avoided during the ceremony. I sat too many rows back and think my stomach would have fallen out of my ass if we looked at each other when two people were getting married. I much preferred the idea of a dramatic, but subtle and tamed, wedding reception gaze at one another. 

Breana found me during this time, sans Matt, which probably meant he was with Alex. As I hugged her, I feared Matt and Alex would come looking for her like she was some lost puppy. I felt ridiculous but Breana understood my predicament and didn't question why I was looking over her shoulder the whole time we spoke.

Cocktail hour wrapped with no sign of Alex, which meant I didn't get totally hammered before dinner. I was seated with AB and Shay, who were now engaged as well, and I spent the whole of our time together staring at the rock on her finger. 

Right around when I began to dive into dinner, I spotted Alex eating at his table. His back was to me. I wondered if we were intentionally seated that way so we didn't have to stare at each other from across the room.

Cake was given and I managed not to ball my eyes out during the first dance. AB and Shay escaped me to do their own dancing, I felt impossibly envious and deeply regretful that I had not shacked up with someone to bring as a plus one because weddings are disgusting and lonesome when you're watching all the cute couples dance.

I made friends with the only other single gal at my table, Dolly, one of Katie's friends. We travelled to the bar together with interlocked arms, despite the fact we barely knew each other. We both got a margarita and cheers to an okay night, whatever that might be.

"I haven't been to a wedding in years and suddenly it feels like everyone is getting married," Dolly said.

I hummed and swallowed my drink. "We're getting to that age when you're either a single loser or having babies."

"My younger sister is engaged and I don't even have a boyfriend. How much of a loser does that make me?"

I leaned against the bar and deposited my empty glass, requesting another one. "It makes you smart."

"Can you tell that to my parents?"

We shared a laugh and the bartender gave me my next margarita. A tap was felt on my shoulder and the voice rang through my ears, "Hey you."

I managed not to fully choke on the liquor running down my throat. I covered my mouth to prevent a major coughing fit or spitting the liquid out onto him. "Hi."

I wasn't sure what else to say. He stood there. I noted the uptightness in his posture. He smirked to hide his nervousness as suaveness. I knew he had to be nervous because I was too. I did get a kick out of him being the one to approach me. For a change, I no longer felt like the girl falling at his feet.

After too long of a silence staring at one another while Dolly surely thought we were looney, Alex asked, "How are you doing?"

I nodded. "Fine." I was being dry and rejecting, leaving nothing for him to grasp onto. This was the crossroads. I could be cold and watch him walk away dejected, getting immense pleasure for the power I had over him. However, who was to say I did not have that power over him anymore? Who's to say I wouldn't have just come off as awkward and a loser? A boring single loser.

I could’ve smiled and asked him how he was and acted out pleasantries that were likely too sweet to be believable coming from my lips. Silence hung and I wasn't sure what to do. I took a sip of my drink and Alex did the same with his. It was a game. Whoever finished their drink first had to speak.

"I've just been chatting with Dolly here," I told him. I lost. Or won. I wasn't sure. I requested another drink pulling myself further on the road of alcohol poisoning. "How've you been?"

"Fine." He was smiling—no more than that—a shit-eating grin. He was mocking me. He was two seconds away from breaking into an uncontainable laugh. "I've been fine. The usual."

I hummed like some wise old man. "Yes, the usual. And what would the usual be?"

He shrugged and swirled his drink, looking down at the spiral forming around his ice. I wasn't sure what game we were playing. I felt like breaking the ice but it slowly began to feel like we were freezing ice between us. Everything was awkward and cold and Dolly was just staring at the whole thing.

She threw her pickaxe into the mix. "Jane and I were just talking about how it feels like there are suddenly so many weddings this year. I've got two more I've got to go to in the summer."

Alex pulled himself away from his hypnotizing drink, adjusted his suit jacket, and swung back into action. "It does feel that way, doesn't it? I suppose that's what your late twenties is." His eyes bore themselves into me and he sipped on his drink.

"For some of us," Dolly said. "The rest of us are left to deal with the scraps."

"Aw," Alex rejected, "you ladies aren't scraps."

Dolly replied, "I never called us scraps. It's you men that are the scraps."

I giggled and Alex tossed between a frown and a chuckle like he couldn't decide how he was supposed to react. "The ones that haven't been potty trained yet," I joked.

"We aren't all so bad, you know," Alex said. "Some of us at least know how to aim."

It broke me out into an embarrassing laugh. One that had me trying my back to him and leaning on the bar because I couldn't bear for him to see me clutch my stomach and snort my drink out. Dolly and Alex laughed more at me than the joke and I turned back in shame as the two of them stared at me. "Sorry," I muttered through my amusement.

Dolly shook her head at me. "All these weddings have made me acutely aware of how single I am. I've become one of those people who bitches and moans about that to people I barely know."

I relaxed against the bar and sipped away. "Welcome to the club."

"The only benefit of being single at a wedding is a chance of catching the bouquet," she stated.

Alex stood amused by Dolly, chuckling at her and sliding his hands into his pockets. "If it makes you feel better I don't even get a chance to catch the bouquet." His eyes drifted to me a moment later like he was waiting for a reaction. My eyes moved to Dolly. I realized this was his way of informing me he was single. I didn't know how to take that.

"You two are very Debbie Downer," I said. "You're 28, not the 40-year-old virgin."

Dolly straightened up. "You're right. I'm spiraling too much. I should be focused on the open bar and having fun."

I lifted my drink. "That's the spirit."

"My friend's just gotten married. I'm chatting with old and new friends. I could stumble on the love of my life tonight instead of bitching and moaning. Or at least a plus one to the next wedding."

"Husbands are overrated anyway," I stated.

Alex chuckled, grabbing my attention again. I almost forgot he was standing there. "Is that the subject of your next book?"

I pointed a finger at him. "You know, that's not a bad idea. At least for an article."

Dolly placed her glass down on the bar. "I'm gonna hit the dance floor. Care to join me?" I wasn't sure which one of us her question was directed at.

Alex eyed me and I eyed Alex. I looked back at Dolly and told her, "I'll catch up with you after I finish my drink."

She looked at me with a hint of something that I refused to acknowledge. "Don't spend the whole night by the bar," she warned.

"I won't," I promised as she walked away.

I leaned back at the bar and focused on my drink and not the man in front of me. It was easier to digest my decision that way because of course I only stayed at the bar for my drink and not anything else at all. Totally. 

"She's nice," Alex said. He was still nursing the remaining liquor in his drink, even though the ice was beginning to melt.

"Shall I set the two of you up? We could be at your wedding this time next year," I quipped.

Alex feigned some laughter. "I don't think I'm ready for that kind of thing."

I narrowed my eyes. "Wives overrated?"

"I haven't found out yet." We stared at one another with the knowledge that whatever move followed would determine the rest of the night. I didn't finish my drink right away and he never took another sip of his. "How are you?"

"You already asked that."

He playfully rolled his eyes. "Right, you're fine."

It made me laugh and I dropped my shoulders, no longer feeling a need to be tensed up. "I've been busy but I like what I'm busy with."

"That's good."

"You?"

"The usual."

I rolled my eyes this time. "You're so funny, Al."

"What else would you like me to say?" The question posed so much with so little. We could run down a thousand different avenues with that one question. I could beg, I could insult, I could walk away.

I disguised my blushing as red-hot amusement. "That you've become a grand master in chess or learned how to get a ship into a bottle."

He gestured his glass at me. "You know, it's not as hard as you think."

"Come on, you have to give me something to work with. How else will I relentlessly make fun of you?"

"Like you don't already?"

I tossed my head back, pretending I was exhausted by him. I never could be it seemed. "I need new material."

He rattled the ice in his glass and moved closer to me, leaning his side against the bar. "I've been trying to learn magic tricks."

"Are you going to pull a coin out from behind my ear?" I hid my smile in my drink.

"I never said I was good at it." He placed his glass down at the bar like he was establishing his place there. "Have you learned any new tricks?"

I couldn't deny it then. He had confirmed it right there. He was flirting with me. I didn't know what to do with it or how to act on it so I just sipped my drink and didn't dare look at him. "I've taken to doing the New York Times crossword every morning."

He laughed at me. "How long does it take you before you look up the answers?"

I refused to allow him to see me blush. If I could dive into my drink, I would have. "Probably ten minutes." He laughed with me. "But they're just hints. I'm allowed hints. The Sunday one is really hard."

"I believe you. I know how smart you are."

His closeness was beginning to make me uncomfortable. I turned my body and leaned my back against the bar like I had so many times before. "There was a crossword clue mentioning Sheffield a few weeks ago."

"Really?” He perked up. Something about it felt so childlike or maybe like a dog who hears the rustling noise of a bag of treats. “What was it?"

"It was easy. Something like ‘stroller in Sheffield, 4 letters.’"

"Would it be a pram?" He looked at me expectingly like he was awaiting cheers to erupt.

"Ding ding ding," I sounded. "You're not as dim as I thought."

"Oh, thanks, Jane." He tried to act offended but his voice edged with mirth and a smile tugged on his lips.

He opened his mouth to speak but I beat him to it. "I think I'm going to go dance."

I placed my empty glass down on the bar and watched as he let delight spread across his face. "I should've known Backstreet Boys would get you on the floor."

I crossed my arms. "Well, it is ‘I Want it That Way’ after all. Just be happy I'm not screaming it in your ear." I turned away before he could say anything else. I joined Dolly in horrible dancing and singing as the margaritas blasted through me.

I lost Alex in the crowd. I think he might have been with Matt because I found Breana on the floor. I grabbed both her hands and spun around with her. At some point we had formed a mini circle of girls, kicking off our heels, and jumping around. 

Perhaps it was too early to be shaking the floor based on some side eye we were given. Out of breath, Breana and I decided to step back into our shoes and sit down. She leaned toward me. “So, what have you been up to?” Her eyes were wide and coming onto me alluringly.

I held my stomach and worked on quickly reinflating my lungs. “Are you hitting on me?”

She pushed away from me with a laugh. “No, I’m just curious what you’ve been up to this evening. You’ve got your eye on anyone?”

I stared at her. “No.”

“Come on, the only benefit of going stag to a wedding is taking someone home with you.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “When did everyone become so sex obsessed?”

“I don’t know. Maybe in the last year or so. When did you become so prudish, Jane?” She teased.

I countered, “I don’t know. Maybe in the last year or so.”

I debated the idea of it but thinking of trying to hook up with a stranger at a wedding kind of disgusted me. Maybe because Alex was there. I think I also didn’t want to be the one trying to seduce someone. I wouldn’t deny a Four Weddings & a Funeral situation, especially if I got to be Andie MacDowell.

Breana stood up and asked, “Should we get a drink?” 

I slumped in my chair. “Maybe. I feel like I might be too drunk already.”

She laughed. “There’s no such thing at a wedding.” She reached out and grabbed my hand. “Come on. I’ve barely had any. Take me to the bar.”

I guided her through the crowd to the deck of the bar. Along the way, I decided she was right and that free alcohol is free alcohol. We both indulged in cocktails with pieces of fruit and straws. “This is so sweet,” she said. “I feel like I’m gonna vomit.”

I gagged. “Don’t talk about vomit.”

Breana waved her hand to someone behind me, gesturing for them to come toward her. I looked behind me to find Matt and Alex. I kept my eyes trained on Matt and smiled and waved.

“Jane Cavendish!” Matt drunkenly cheered. “I heard you were crawling around.” He slung me into a hug. I returned it despite how sweaty he felt and how hard I was trying to not laugh at him.

“Matthew J. Helders III,” I returned his proper greeting.

Breana tucked her arm under Matt to keep him upright. “Maybe we should sit down,” she suggested. When Matt insisted otherwise, she decided for him, taking him over to their table, and leaving me with Alex.

He took a step forward towards me. “And I thought I was going to be the one to get hammered,” he said.

“Night’s young and the bar is still mighty full.”

He eyed my drink. “What’ve you got there?”

I stirred my straw, clunking the ice against the glass. “I believe it is called a woo woo.”

“A woo woo?”

“Yeah, it’s vodka, cranberry, and…” I took a sip. “Peach Schnapps. I’ve never had it before but I quite like it.” I eyed the hand around his glass. “And what do you have? Your bourbon,” I mocked, continuing to sip away at my woo woo.

“I go for reliability over experimentation.” He sipped his with a piercing stare at me.

I couldn’t tell if he was making a pointed comment at me or trying to make some eloquent quip. Either way, I didn’t care. I liked my woo woo too much to care. “You’ll never know the joys of a woo woo then.”

“Gimme a sip then.” He curled his fingers, beckoning me to move the drink toward him. 

I handed it over. “Sip out of the glass, not the straw.”

He chuckled. “I’ve kissed you but can’t share a straw with you.”

I was determined for my face to stay neutral. “You’ll get the bourbon taste all over it.”

“Oh,” he sarcastically said. 

He began to chug out of the glass until I pulled it out of his hand. “Get your own if you love it so much.”

“It tastes like candy floss.”

“No, it does not.” I sipped just to check. “It definitely doesn’t. I don’t think you’ve ever even had candy floss.”

“I’ve had it. Might have been 20 years ago now but I’ve had it,” he insisted.

I looked out at the crowd dancing. I had no clue what time it was or how long we had been there but it felt like no time had passed and hours had passed at the same time. I wasn’t sure what had a greater effect of time distortion Alex or alcohol.

“Have you danced at all?” I asked him.

He leaned an arm against the bar, slowly inching closer and closer to me. “Is that an invitation?”

“No,” I claimed, “I’m waiting for them to bring out more food. Can we get a second serving of cake?”

Alex chuckled, standing up straighter, no longer coming off as leering. “You haven’t had enough sugar from your woo woo?”

“Well, if I don’t have any food to soak up the alcohol than I won’t remember the rest of the night,” I told him.

“I think they’re bringing out pretzels soon.”

“Hard or soft?”

He smirked. Him and his dirty mind. “Soft, I think.”

“God, I could eat like five of those right now.” I felt like my stomach would rumble so hard it would shake the building causing a microearthquake. “What time are they doing that?”

He shrugged.

“You’re no help. You’re supposed to have the insider information,” I complained.

“I didn’t plan the wedding.”

“Go find out for me,” I commanded. I was desperately hungry and desperate for him to get away from me. It was his gaze that made me blush from a shared nervousness and awkwardness. I didn’t know how to act around him anymore, not with the way he was acting.

The wave of my hand shooed him away and he disappeared into the crowd again. I got a Moscow mule and went back to my seat. Before Alex returned, the soft pretzels were taken out and I was first in line. I got back in line before I even finished my first one.

When I spotted Alex across the room, I raised my pretzel toward him. He raised his woo woo back at me.

AB, Shay, Dolly, and I chatted over our pretzels and drinks at our table. Shay looked sleepy, leaning her head against AB’s shoulder, and I knew they’d be heading out within the next half hour. Dolly kept throwing her head back in laughter, even when the conversation didn’t prompt it.

I wiped my hands clean of salt and, encouraged by the group, chugged the rest of my drink. With the empty glass, I stood, curtsied, and headed to the bathroom. I was buzzed, maybe even drunk by that point, but still felt in control despite my heeled shoes growing bothersome. I was ready for another drink. Well, after I peed.

When I left the bathroom, he was standing there, acting casual with a drink in his hand and tapping his foot to the music, but I’m not sure why he would be standing outside the women’s bathroom unless there’s something I don’t know about.

I walked up to his profiled body. I placed my hands on my hips as the upturn slowly occurred on my lips. “Are you stalking me now, Al?”

“How was your pretzel?” He wasn’t being concealed. He couldn’t control his smirk and it felt like every second passed in a thumping heartbeat.

“Same as yours I’m sure.”

“I didn’t get one.”

“Well, maybe you should. They were good.”

“I was gonna pop out for a smoke. If you wanna.”

“Wanna what?”

“For old time’s sake.” 

The nostalgia played a role but the look on his face tugged at me and as much as I wanted to deny it, I wanted to go out and smoke with him too. For old time’s sake. I was also itching for a cigarette and bumming one off Al was as good as anything else.

Night had covered the outside world. The once warm day had turned into a breezy night. We walked to a park bench outside the venue. The wood grates pressed through the fabric of my dress and I took the opportunity to curl my legs behind me and rest my feet.

Alex handed a cigarette to me before pulling one out for himself. I startled him by reaching into his coat pocket, perfectly aware of where his lighter was. I lit my cig before tossing it to him. I leaned back against the iron bar and watched as the smoke left his lips.

“Talk,” I urged him.

“I’m in charge?” He questioned.

“You brought me out here.”

He chuckled. “Nicotine brought you out here.” 

I looked out onto the scene in front of us. It wasn’t particularly interesting. There was a car park and a field and the venue. There were some other people. A few were smoking, some leaving, and a few getting fresh air or trying not to act too drunk. “I’ve got a lot of addictions.”

“Woe is me much?”

I snorted. When I faced him, his eyes were already trained on me with a smile. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

“Dark and mysterious might’ve worked on me in college, Jane, but I know you better now.”

“You knew me pretty well back then,” I reasoned. “As I recall it.”

He hummed like if we looked into each other’s eyes long enough a wormhole would form and we’d be taken back in time to 2003. “You’ve always been easy to read. You did put up a good wall back then though.”

“Nothing compared to yours.”

He broke eye contact with me for the first time. He turned completely away, staring at whatever lay before him on the other side. “I have the reputation for it, I’m sure.” He looked back at me like he couldn’t resist it for too long. It burned me. He could have put his cigarette out on me for all I know. It burned a hole through the center of me. Too much. Too hurtful.

“Well, I was still able to read you pretty well.”

“More than I would’ve liked,” he said. “There I go sounding all despondent. How’s your next book going?”

I shrugged. “Somewhere. It’s been a little complicated lately. New ventures. And a new agent.”

“Ah, the post-Jackson era?”

“Yeah, kind of fucked that one up. Business wise.” There was no reason to get into all the personal propensities here or ever because I can barely recall that mess and have had limited desire to, clearly. “Lisa’s my new agent. She’s lovely and nice but it’s different. Jackson was my friend too. I guess I have a habit of not knowing how to keep friends.”

“It’s a natural part of growing up,” he tried to assure me.

“You are aware of whose wedding we’re at?” I longed to have friendships like Alex’s. I felt like I couldn’t hold onto those things. I think it’s easier for guys or maybe that’s just a grass being greener mentality. 

He couldn’t argue, instead breaking into laughter. “Yeah, you are a bit shit at keeping friends.”

“Hey!” I whacked him.

He held his hands up. “I’m kidding. You’re my friend after all.”

“The aforementioned: a bit shit. Case and point.”

He laid it out. “You make things too awkward.” 

“I think the situation is awkward.” Is there a proper way to interact with her ex? If so, I haven’t quite found it yet. There’s a fine line, especially with Alex. I felt we were always tiptoeing around our situation. That was the problem with never addressing anything. With no formal break-up, we never discussed and unravelled how things went down. We stayed tangled and flipped back and forth between the closest of friends to distant figures in one another’s lives. Here we tried to find the middle ground.

He pondered what I said for a minute. He sat with it and took a few drags before saying, “Who am I to talk? I’ve made my own messes.”

I almost didn’t ask but it was getting late, memories crept up on me, I felt warm, and he felt close. “With Arielle?”

Alex turned away, clearly not wanting to dive into it. I could see the environment pulling away at him too. He leaned against the bench’s backing and laid his arm on it. “Yeah, not that it would have worked out anyway.”

I felt myself leaning closer like he had lassoed me and was pulling me in. “What do you mean?”

He let out a half-suppressed laugh like he couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. He put out his cigarette but didn’t move an inch from his seat next to me. “Did you think you were going to end up with Jackson?”

To prevent the situation from travelling too deep, I leaned my temple against my fist, and joked, “I don’t know. Cavendishes are historically unhappy in their marriages.” I followed his suit and put out my cigarette, but stayed glued to my seat next to him.

He didn’t look at me when he said, “If you’re going to be unhappy at least aim wealthier than Jackson.”

I wanted to ask if he meant him.

I wondered what my next move should be. There was no longer anything between our fingers excusing us to sit outside. I felt my continued participation in the conversation would reveal something. I was probably reading into it too much, but it was sending him a signal I didn’t know if I wanted to give off.

“Should we go back inside?” I asked.

“Why?” His questioning sent a shiver down my spine. “You getting cold or something?”

“Thirsty,” I claimed. I feared he’d attempt to take his suit jacket off and throw it over my shoulders.

“You dipsomaniac.” He stood up beside me and we walked back in together toward the bar. I got a Tom Collins because I liked the way the bartender decorated the glass with the lemon slice and a drink would distract me anytime I needed to think of something to say.

Alex got something boring. I don’t remember. “What number is that for you?”

I stirred and thought. “I don’t know. I guess that says it all.” I stared out at the crowd of people on the dancefloor shimming to “Billie Jean” in a wild manner. It comforted me that the age of the crowd had levelled out and the sobriety of the crowd had diminished. “Have you danced at all this evening?”

“I’m not that drunk yet.” He took a mighty gulp. “You offering?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want my toes broken.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m a good dancer.”

“Not when you’re drunk.” Alex would shake, thrash, and toss when drunk dancing. He loses all control of his limbs and his coordination is deadly for someone who already suffers in the department. “What song would get you on the floor?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Chicken Dance.”

“This isn’t a school dance. Serious answer.”

“Why? You gonna go give the DJ a request?”

“I’m just curious. No need to accuse.”

“Some Spice Girls.” He smirked.

I glared at him. “Don’t mock me now.”

“Let’s get it on,” he offered.

“Huh?” Uncertainty lied in my reaction.

He raised an eyebrow suggestively. “Marvin Gaye,” he clarified. 

“You’re not funny.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

The booming of “Single Ladies” blasted through the room interrupting any proper answer. I held my glass out to him. “Keep it safe for me?” I asked.

He nodded, wrapping his fingers around the cold glass. “Good luck,” he taunted.

I stuck my tongue out and headed to the girl-filled dancefloor. We bumped shoulders with one another and Katie pretended to throw it several times before finally releasing it. The bouquet twisted and turned and flew through the air before it landed directly into Dolly’s hands. She squealed and clapped her hands together, having won the ultimate prize. 

When I returned to Alex and teased me with a pout on his lips. “I’m sorry you lost.”

I took my drink back and took a quick sip. “Eh. It’s probably better if I'm not the next to get married. Logically it’s actually Breana right?”

“Does it count if you’re already engaged?”

“I have no clue.” I sipped away and he stared at me. I felt like I was about to melt under his gaze. I almost asked him why he was but I knew why. Alcohol, wedding, single, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. So. “Say it.”

“What?” He questioned.

I dropped my drink onto the bar with a blatant stare in my eye. 

He shrugged like he wasn’t being obvious.

“Okay,” I sighed. I picked my drink up and finished it off. 

I was prepared to walk away when the beginning notes of “Spice Up Your Life” began to play. Alex was taken way by laughter. Through his chuckles, he asked, “Did you request it?”

“No,” I said, “you saw me the whole time.”

He grabbed my hand tightly. “It’s fate.” With that he walked toward the dancefloor, dragging me behind him. I was laughing too. I couldn’t help it. I was happy. And drunk but that made me happy too. 

His hand was warm and he felt firm. He dropped it when we reached the floor but we moved and jumped like we were toddlers still learning how to stand properly. He made faces and moved in a way that made unstoppable laughter wrack through me. I felt buzzed from the inside out, every limb, bone, vein affected by him.

It was too much. Drunk I could handle it but even the power of him made me feel nauseated as if it was eating me alive. I was risking too much. The fun of it was slowly overtaking me, wrecking the moves I had made to change things.

After a few more songs, the music cut. We watched as Jamie and Katie left and with it, the reception was pretty much over. I turned to Alex, who was already looking at me. Always looking first. “I’m glad I got to see you,” I earnestly told him.

“You leaving me now?” I kept feeling like he was pulling my leg. He was constantly smirking at me like he was playing some trick on me. Like there was some inevitable shoe about to drop.

“Everyone is leaving now.” The room felt like it had emptied quickly, a stark contrast to the packed reception. 

“Do you wanna…?” He scratched the back of his neck.

I laughed at him. I’m not sure why. I think because he reminded me of his younger self. Even with the gelled hair and pushed-back shoulders, he still kept his awkward mannerisms and inability to get to the end of sentences. “Do I wanna what? Know?”

“Shut up.” His eyes fluttered slowly. “Talk to me more. I’ve got a mini bar.”

“You’re inviting me to your hotel room?” I raised my eyebrows at the implication. 

“Yeah. Don’t be so dirty, Janie.” He hadn’t called me that in a while. “I just want to catch up more. I miss talking to ya.” 

I stared at him blankly. “Right. Okay. I’ll get my purse and coat. I assume this is all on your tab.”

“Overpriced little bottles are on me. I’ll meet you out front.”

*

We sat on the carpet hotel room floor which I’m sure was probably covered in all kinds of germs and diseases but that night it was covered with little empty bottles and Alex and I leaning against the bed and dresser respectively.

I sat barefoot and he rubbed my feet. I don’t think I asked him to, it was just out of instinct. I couldn’t protest because they ached so much. He had taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie enough that he might as well have just taken it off. There was no need to keep up appearances in front of one another.

I downed the little vodka bottle. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything from the mini bar. My mother usually came prepared.”

“We did that one time,” he reminded me. “In Bristol. You got so hammered I doubt you remember.”

I giggled. “I remember the hangover. And I’m sure I’ll remember the one I’ll have tomorrow.”

“Drink some water.”

I shook my head. “Nah. I haven’t reached that level of intelligence yet. Plus, I don’t think I can get off the floor.”

He slumped against the bed like a ragdoll. “Yeah, I don’t think I can either.”

“We should just stay here forever.” It was a joke. Intended to be one, at least.

Alex smiled. “Yeah. Okay.” He moved his head around to stay awake and rubbed his eyes. “Make me laugh.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. You always find a way.”

I thought but humour abandoned me at that moment. It felt like all the funny had been kicked out of me. I decided to spill my guts. “On the plane ride here I decided to watch Eyes Wide Shut because I had never seen it before. I wasn’t aware of the massive orgy and the flight attendant had to come over and tell me that I couldn’t watch porn on the flight. So that was fun.”

Alex had fallen over into a fit of laughter. It eased me up and my embarrassment felt a little lighter when I knew it brought joy to him. “I’m going to tell some gossip mag that Jane Cavendish watches porn on planes.”

I kicked him with my foot. “Shut up.”

He collected himself and sat up straight. His look held so much in it. He looked like remembering and I wanted to experience every moment we had ever had together all at once. I looked away instead. But he didn’t and I could feel it. And then he said it. “I missed you.”

And like that, I was pulled back to him. My eyes looked into his and we were transmitting a longing we couldn’t dream of acting on. I smiled. “Me too. I’m used to it.”

He dropped his head. “Fuck.” His eyes plucked up. “Don’t say things like that to me.”

I crossed my brows. “Why?”

“‘Cause it’ll be what pounds through my head every night. Every day. How fucked up everything got. I’m wishing—I don’t know.” He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to erase himself.

I tucked my knees up to my chest. “I think it always was, Al. No need to beat yourself up over it.”

He stared at me as if to say, “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

I giggled. “We should move,” I suggested.

“No,” he whined.

With every fibre in me, I fought to stand up, eventually beating the effects of hotel-provided liquor. “Come on, mister.” I reached my hand down to him. He intertwined himself with me. Instead of me pulling, he yanked me down. Before I could shout a note of surprise, he silenced me. He kissed me.

It didn’t stop. He fought hard and I didn’t reject it. I was a phony and I could spout words of it being over for as long as I wanted but I don’t know if anyone ever believed it. How could they when it felt so good to kiss him? It was delicate and sloppy but I was sloppy too so I didn’t care one bit. It wasn’t about precision it was about emotion and I felt everything burning from the inside. It probably wasn’t smart but my other organs took over to act as my brain after it had been stifled from alcohol and his sweet words. I’d figure it out later. I’d keep him to myself for now.

We fell back on the carpet, my back hitting the floor and him towering over me. He tried to pull away to say something, to smile, or to breathe, but I wouldn’t allow it. I think if I looked him in the eye and he uttered a word it would have been too much so I didn’t allow it. 

We became those people that soiled the hotel room carpet. In our refusal to get up off the floor, Alex pushed my dress up and his pants down and it was quick so we didn’t have to think about it. I felt sweaty and he tucked his head in the corner of my neck and kissed it, breathing me in. I pushed everything away and laid there with him because that felt good and I felt loved, even if those things were to have faded away, I was left with memories of when it was there and this was just a reminder.

When it was over and his out-of-breath body pinned on top of my out-of-breath body, I lifted my hand and tried to run my fingers through his hair. I pulled a face he couldn’t see. “Ew,” I remarked. “I’m not used to your hair being so greasy.”

I felt the rhythms of his laugh against me. He was quiet but his hands pried into the space between my back and the carpet and he hugged me to him. The tightness and pressure of it weighed on me and I could’ve been eaten alive by it if I didn’t think it brought him so much comfort. He nudged his nose against me and for a moment I forget we were on the floor of some random hotel. It felt old and familiar. Things didn’t feel so foreign.

“Bed,” I voiced. “I think I have rug burns.”

He lifted his head for the first time since. I saw the blur of his eyes and the thrash of his smile. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

I smiled back but couldn’t think of anything teasing to say. He pulled me to my feet this time and we found solace in the cloudy bed. Unspoken words sat in the gap between us and I could feel his eyes burn on me as mine began to flutter. “Al.”

He reached over and brushed my hair out of my face. He nuzzled closer to me with a comfortable distance one that caused an ember to shoot through me but not a wildfire. “We’ll talk in the morning.” And that was enough. It always would be.

*

I got up before him. I thought about waking him but that would mean facing things. With my pounding, but sober head, I panicked. I sat somewhere between losing it and jumping up and down. I stole his clothes, went to get a coffee, and sat in the hotel lobby. If he woke up, I wondered if he would have thought I left. I didn’t write a note or anything. Would it have brought him relief or disappointment?

My headache cleared somewhere in my people-watching time and with that, I was allowed to calculate my next move. Quickly I knew I didn’t want to leave. I would be an asshole move and I was trying to be less of an asshole. The communication part was hard. It almost made things feel more normal. Alex and I always struggled to get to the point. Last night it was the same way. We didn’t make sense of things. We only jumbled the Rubik’s cube up more.

When my coffee cup reached half-full, I went back upstairs. He was still asleep and I was left with nothing to do. Boredom was worse than inconveniencing him so I landed on the bed and began to shake until he woke. Asshole move?

“Alright, alright.” He placed his hand on my leg to stop my movement. He kept it there with no other words spoken.

“Hi,” I said.

He smiled. “Hi. Morning. Is that coffee for me?”

My eyes drifted off. “Well…”

He dropped his head on the pillow. It spread out across it in a new way. I was discovering new movements and how he looked different, not just with hair, but he gained new mannerisms and practices. He was teaching me new ways to act. I think part of me always wanted to be him. Being with him was the next closest thing.

His hands covered his face. “My head is killing me.”

“You can have the rest of it if you want.”

He threw the covers off and stood up. I forget he was naked underneath all that. I stared at his ass. I almost reached out to squeeze it but he turned too quickly. “No, I don’t want your slug.”

I giggled. It felt like an old routine. We were still the people we used to be. We had done this a hundred times before. I could do it a hundred times more. For a moment, it felt perfect. I think we only have a few of those, scattered across years and times; a clear view of when everything lines up and makes sense. Perhaps, the circumstances weren’t ideal, but I wasn’t thinking about that anymore. It was a distraction from everything else. I missed laughing with him.

“I can get you some milk,” I offered as he slipped into the bathroom.

*

Over a coffee, one bowl of Cheerios, and one bowl of Corn Flakes, Alex and I talked. Only a few people sat in the hotel’s dining area with us, scattered feet away from us. We slurped our cereal and Alex milked his coffee. It all felt disposable.

“I don’t remember the last time I sat and had breakfast,” I commented while spooning my Cheerios.

“Always rushing off somewhere?”

“I guess. Sitting at a table and eating by yourself feels weird to me. I usually get up too late for breakfast anyway.”

“You were up early this morning.” He sipped his coffee, still pepping himself up.

“Time difference. I’m all turned around.”

He nodded, perfectly aware of the struggle of time zones. “I’ve finally learned how to keep track of days on tour. Day of the week, month, number, everything.”

I smiled at his excitement. He could be so overjoyed about such small things. He paid attention to the small things. He was exceedingly good at spot the difference games because his eye was somehow able to take in all the fine details. 

“When are you going back on tour?” I asked. The answer to our predicament lay in his answer.

“A week or so.”

I laughed in hopes of lightening the load. “Some honeymoon Cookie and Katie will have.”

“We are headed to New Zealand. It’s a beautiful place to go. You know that. Good hiking.”

“You sound like a travel agent.”

He leaned back and gazed at me. “Maybe I am one.”

I broke eye contact with the pain of letting him down. “Nice try.”

Alex nodded. He already knew my answer but held out for a change if maybe this had been one of the things I grew out of. “I’ll take pictures for you.”

“Email them to me,” I requested. “I miss your emails.”

He looked at me and didn’t say anything. He was pulling things apart in his mind. I could see his brain untying knots and straightening the wrinkles. He deciphered, walked down every path, and climbed every tree before he could have the best view of things. “When are we going to talk about…?” He gestured to him and I. Us.

Old habits were there for me to slip back into. It was easy to push away but he offered himself up to me. Him taking the first step alleviated me and the burden didn’t feel so painful to speak honestly. “Whenever you want.”

The ball was in his court and he bounced it a few times, double-checked its firmness, tested his racquet, and hit the ball back to me. “You’re going back to New York. Nothing’s changing that, right?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded along, working through things. His face stayed neutral and didn’t show any explicit reaction. He looked around the room as if the answers were playing hide & seek with him. “We’re touring all summer.”

“I know.”

Those words tapped into him. A smile crept out from the knowledge that I kept up with him, even if it was just the grand scale of his world tour. I didn’t lock him away from my mind. “Well, if you ever want to visit anywhere. I hear Germany’s nice in June.”

I raised an eyebrow. “With all the tourists?”

“You’ll fit right in with them. You can help me out with my German”

I chuckled. “I think your German might be better than mine.”

“Then I can show off.”

I toss my head. “Well, maybe if New York gets too hot. And someone pays for my flight.”

“You’re really milking me here.”

“I’m prostituting myself for you.”

He chuckled before all the humour sunk from his voice. “If you fall in love with some guy before then I’ll be happy for you, Jane. Or if you don’t want to do this—whatever this is—again, I’ll get it.”

It touched me, even though I knew it shouldn’t. I worried this was a pattern I’d repeat my whole life. “If you get a girlfriend I’ll kill you.”

Luckily, he smiled. “I’ll have to fight them off.” Eye roll. “Do whatever you want, Janie.”

I couldn’t look at him. I was too embarrassed that my cheeks were turning red. “I’ll be your Nell Gwynn.”

“Who?”

“Charles II’s mistress.”

He shook his head in laughter. “Only you would know that. Gimme more respect than that. I’m not some imperialistic floozy boinking everyone I see.”

“Boinking?”

*

Alex and I hugged each other goodbye and the next day I was back in New York. I had to attend this Writers in New York event for Gotham Writers where I got to wear a fancy blouse and suit jacket that made me look sexy professor librarian chic and not Hillary Rodham Clinton pantsuit disaster. I met up with a group of my writer friends because I had that now. There were all cool women because male writers are weird and either old or misogynistic or arrogant or all of the above.

I hung out with Maddie a lot. She was a year younger than me and worked as a part-time professor for The New School and spent the rest of the time writing part-time for Vogue Magazine. She was always complaining about how busy she was but she was always at these events. I had the opposite problem of having too much free time, although that was becoming less and less true.

We were smoking cigarettes outside with glasses of scotch and talked about how we wished we had cigars so we could be like those old literary professors we loathed. “All I need is a beer belly and a Viagra addiction and I’ll be lecturing at Columbia in no time,” I quipped. I took a drag like taking a deep breath.

“That’s until you get caught touching a student’s ass,” she joked back.

I waved her off. “I’ll get a cushy suspension package and be back in no time.” I sipped my scotch and was reminded of Alex’s hands around a glass. Maddie only vaguely knew about him and that’s why I felt the freedom to tell her. Opal could be judgy. (I did eventually tell her and she wasn’t surprised. She asked if it was worth it. I said yes. She said good. And that was that. Although, she did start to make plenty of annoying jokes about it but it was worth that too). 

“Are you going to get back together?” Maddie asked with riveting curiosity as if she was reading through Page Six. 

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I weirdly don’t care. The ambiguity of it left a lot of imagining in the air. I don’t know when I’ll even see him again.”

“Do you want to?”

I nodded. “I still love him.”

“Then how can you not get back together with him?” The answer was always simple for me: love had nothing to do with our relationship. I would love Alex forever it would ebb and flow and change but I know we both would have a love for one another that only the two of us could fully understand. It was under lock and key in our minds and it was a shared experience only we would know about. It’s impossible not to love someone who shared that with you. It would not be ripped away from me.

When I got back home that night, Alex sent me an email with pictures of New Zealand. At the end of his length message, he wrote, Let me know if you change your mind. Australia is not too bad either. Or London. We could even grab a pint with Robert if you want though I would object to the threesome. I don’t need anything else making me insecure. Keep me updated and don’t drink too many woo woos. Love, Al.

The possibility of a vacation was wishful thinking. My second book was headed toward release and the summer seemed to fill my schedule up beyond a long flight to Australia that would likely cause me major sleep issues. London was a nice thought but having just been there it wasn’t likely. Moreover, I didn’t want to chase him this time. That’s what stopped me from saying we would get back together.

*

New York was too hot during the summer but I stayed in it. Alex and I talked on the phone occasionally. Conversations were usually mundane in the way I always loved. We were filling each other’s silence. Whenever we would get to the end and try and say goodbye the other thought of a story to tell and we talked for another hour. It was a dance we did. One time he tried to talk about it—whatever we were. I told him, “We’ll talk about it when we see each other again. Did you know the Eiffel Tower grows up to 6 inches in the summer?”

Fennel and Kaka threw a massive dinner party for their anniversary at Lotte New York Palace. I had never been somewhere so stunning in my life and with every move I was worried I’d break something and have to pay for it.

After dinner, I went out to the courtyard for a smoke. When I pulled the pack out of my clutch purse, I saw I had a missed call from Alex. He was in Iowa, back on the road. He answered after two rings. “Hello,” he said all formal and pristine.

“Heyo!” I cheered back. “What’s up?”

His voice was light and he sounded happy. “Nothing really. Wanted to see what you were up to.”

“I’m at Fennel and Kaka’s anniversary party. I told you about it.” We were back to that. We communicated about our days and lives and he no longer felt so far out of reach and with that I didn’t feel so far out of reach to my own self.

“Ah. Right.”

“I’m standing in this fancy hotel’s courtyard in a dress that is way too expensive to be stinking it up with my smoke right now. Fennel gave it to me as a gift for his anniversary ‘cause he’s a whackjob. It’s a 1997 Dolce & Gabbana sheer black lace gown thing and I know that doesn’t mean much to you but that’s expensive.” It was the perfect dress. I had never felt more tailored to a T. It’ll be a dress I give to my children because it deserves to stay in the family. Maybe I’ll be buried in it.

My hand moved down the lace just admiring it on my own body. He cleared his throat. “It means something to me.” I could hear the hunger in his voice.

I rolled my eyes. “Right. I forgot you’re André Leon Talley.”

He hummed. He had no clue who that was. “You should send me a picture so I know what it looks like.” He always struggled with subtlety in the seduction department. He didn’t even have a face that fell a certain way to hide behind. 

“Alex, you’re not clever.”

“What?” He tried to act like he had no clue of his words or his tone that overflowed with lust. His voice naturally came off erotic after the effects of cigarettes, singing, and if you’re a person like me with a predisposition to a Northern English accent. “I want to see the Dolce & Gabbana. If you love it so much.”

“I never said I loved it.”

“Janie.” 

I gave in because he was cute and horny. “I’ll send you the photo I took before I left. You gonna jack off to it?” I quipped. This was my version of flirting. 

He snorted. “You’re so romantic, Janie.” (He didn’t deny it). “I’ll save you the trouble if you just want to have phone sex here.”

“You’re not funny,” I said back. “In fact, you’re a creep.”

“You’re horny.”

“Oh, my god. Ew, you’re disgusting.”

“No, you totally are. You only get freaked out by this stuff when you are. You turn into a massive prude when you’re turned on. Are you wet?”

“I’m gonna hang up,” I threatened. 

He was laughing at me. “You’re totally gonna go into the bathroom and jerk off right now.”

“Bye, Alex. Have a nice time with your penis.”

I sent him the photo and refused to give into the idea he had of me and whatever his sick perverted fantasy he projected on to me. (I did it when I got home).

*

Alex visited me the last week of September. Fall had allegedly begun but summer weather remained to haunt. He decided to spend part of his tour break in New York claiming it would be cooler than LA but it was in fact hotter. Besides, if he wanted cooler weather he should’ve just gone back to Britannia.

He came in around dinner time, taking the subway to my apartment. He buzzed up and I met him at the top of the stairs because I didn’t want to help carry his belongings. After he dropped off his things and refreshed himself, we got dinner at Gage & Tollner, which was fancy but you could get away with wearing jeans. He made fun of me for getting oysters and we split a Baked Alaska for dessert because I had never had one before.

We went back to my apartment and watched Halloween H20: Halloween 20 Years Later, which made us feel stoned even though we never lit up. Alex was particularly fond of LL Cool J’s role. The movie has since become a staple around Halloween time.

I began flipping through channels after the movie had finished not wanting to watch whatever Superman movie followed it. It was nearing 11 PM and the options were limited to The 700 Club or some late night talk show.

I flicked away and Alex leaned over and kissed me. I was taken away by that programming. We slept together. I think that was inevitable. It was unavoidable no matter how much at dinner we joked and skirted around what had happened at the wedding. We waited until the night hours when the sun didn’t shine the truth on us.

In the morning, we fell into an old routine. I wore his boxers and one of my ratty white Hanes tank tops and he didn’t even bother to put on a shirt as we ate breakfast. We even did the crossword together. 

We dressed for the day—I, in a skirt and some spaghetti strapped top, him, in jeans and a dark tee, unrespectful for the balance of the seasons. I was already sweating by the time we stepped outside. He was fine somehow, something I’ll never understand.

I grabbed an iced coffee from the corner cafe and we took the subway up to Central Park, walking from the south of it to the northern edge. “I never come here,” I told him. “It’s too long of a ride.” I didn’t mention that it reminded me of him. It felt stupid for a landscape so large and iconic to forever be tainted by one person that you’d avoid said landmark. Well, it was also a 40-minute subway ride away and Brooklyn had parks of its own but Al still liked to go to Central Park.

“I loved going here,” he said. “I would come up here while you were at work and go somewhere new every time but always ended up watching someone play baseball.”

I laughed. “You’re gonna end up coaching one of these days.”

“Like Little League or something?” He questioned.

I didn’t answer questions about little children and Alex being the coach of some kid’s baseball team. Not just some kid but his kid. “Why’d you never tell me that?” I knew about his love for Central Park but these excursions were mysterious. It would be a simple shrug on how his day went and he would say he went to Central Park and then that was all. I never asked what he did there either. I was less interested in other people in those days.

He thought about it as we climbed up the makeshift stairs for a hill. He scratched his cheek with his mouth in an open circle. Chewed up whatever he was thinking in his mouth. He landed on, “I don’t know.” He chewed some more. “It felt more special that way. It was something just for me, you know? We did so much together that…I don’t know.”

The way he put it made secrets feel like a sweet thing. The omission of things is actually a treat and was something for me to be endeared by now. Suddenly, every other thing he kept from me, those nights were he sat far away from me and smoked outside with a closed notebook, they were all delights for him and not things I pondered about until I fell asleep.

“Did you feel a need to keep things from me?” I blamed myself. Even in that moment, I knew it was stupid to feel that way. 

“No.” He thought about it a little. He moved his face, twisted it up in a way that I knew he didn’t fully believe that. “Not intentionally.”

We were descending the hill when I asked, “What’s that mean?” I was lighthearted about it. I had the attitude that what was done was done and it had been done so long ago that it almost felt like another life. I had a dull edge to it.

“Young and a natural inclination to be taciturn. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. I just walked around but I think I didn’t have a lot of things that were my own here. You had a whole life here that I wasn’t apart of.”

I almost told him that wasn’t true but I could already picture the look he would give me and I would agree that it was probably true. I acclimated much quicker to New York with a job and friends. I don’t think Alex ever fully adjusted. “I always worried about what you were keeping from me and I’m realizing now that it was probably just a bunch of your typical dorky shit.”

“Oh, thanks, Jane,” he chuckled. “I didn’t mean to come off that way. Truthfully, I just didn’t have a lot going on in the first place.”

“You were bored here.” It never occurred to me that Alex could feel the same as me. Call it being in your twenties and raised with selfish role models. I’m still undoing the whole world revolving around me thing. I am writing a book about myself so…there’s that.

He tossed his head from side to side. “I wouldn’t say bored. Not by New York. I think I was bored of myself.”

���Are you still?” He was the most fascinating person to me I couldn’t imagine the idea of being bored or tired of him. He saved me from boredom endless times. Just the idea of him, daydreaming, fantasizing, lamenting over him. I did it all.

“Sometimes. Not as much as before. Kinda too busy to deal with that.”

I nodded and sipped the last of my iced coffee before tossing it. “A rare benefit of no free time. I’m no longer so concerned with myself because I don’t have time to be. Only in the mirror in the morning really.”

“When you give yourself pep talks?”

I jabbed him with my elbow. “I did that one time. Maybe if you gave me a pep talk before that job interview I wouldn’t have had to do it myself.” He was still laughing at the memory.

We stood on the top of Bow Bridge and watched as people sat on the lake in their rowboats. “You wanna do that?”

I scoffed. “No, rowing hurts my arms.”

He gave me a taunting grin. “Weak.”

We walked up to The Met. They had an exhibit called Early American Guitars that piqued Alex’s interest but they didn’t have that many so we ended up going to the In Miniature exhibit that piqued my interest because I like tiny things. We roamed the halls of it until we got too hungry we had to leave for lunch.

I wanted to go to Lexington Candy Shoppe but Alex insisted he was so hungry he couldn’t walk the three blocks to get there. So, we bought hot dogs and sat on the steps of The Met. “I can’t remember the last time I had a hot dog,” I said.

He was chewing and trying his best to not have his toppings fall on his clothes as he said, “Neither can I.”

“I thought I would hate it but I kind of like it which is totally disgusting because this hot dog has probably been sitting in his cart for like years because you know they buy these in bulk for sure and then they are sitting out there all day until we order them and then they are thrown in this dirty water that they never clean but it’s still good. In fact, it’s probably the best hot dog I’ve ever had and it’s disgusting. I’ll be burping hot dog all day but it’s worth it, I think. I was starved and this feels like my death row meal.”

He listened, nodded, and said, “What would you be on death row for?” Because that’s the kind of person Alex is. He listened to that whole rant about hot dogs and appreciated it. I think he might have some sanity issues because I don’t really know how a person can put up with my level of talking and enjoy it. He claims to.

“Stealing hot dogs or something. I don’t know. Or a hot dog cart license. Do you know how much money they make? I read an article that hot dog stands make over $100,000 per year but a license, especially in a place outside The Met or Central Park is so expensive that not your average Joe can do it. Maybe you should invest in something like that.”

“Wouldn’t I then have to run the actual hot dog stand?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you can hire a guy to do it for you. Because it’s never women is it? Have you ever seen a woman run a hot dog stand?”

“Do you want to work at a hot dog stand?”

“No. Maybe only men are gross enough to deal with that dirt water boiling thing. I think we need to break the gender barrier on that.”

“This sounds like a great piece for The New York Times. Front page news.”

I laughed with him. “Don’t mock me. I’m serious.”

“I know. Truly I’m entranced by you talking about hot dogs. I don’t think any other person can do that. I think you should write a piece about it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

“Kind of. Then again, I think you could write a piece about anything.”

*

Saturday night I had plans to go out. It was the standing day of the week and counted as my job falling somewhere in the category of “networking.” I told Alex that he could come along or spend the night in at my place or get up to whatever secret shit he wanted to.

He strangely enthusiastically said, “No, I’ll join ya!” 

The Good Room (horrible name for a club) had opened that year and it felt like everybody who lived in Brooklyn went there, at least everyone I knew. It was loud and seizure-inducing but still probably the best club in Brooklyn. Not that I really go clubbing anymore.

Drinks were heavy and it was the kind of place where you felt like the night would never end, the music would keep going and the party would never die down. Alex met some of my friends. They shouted their names at each other and shared the experience of dancing in the middle of a booming bass speaker. It didn’t make for good conversation but it was a nice bonding experience.

We were there until the night became morning but not as late as most of my friends stayed. Alex was leaving the next day and even though the flight wasn’t until the afternoon he still wanted a good night’s sleep (and time to do other stuff). 

Before we left we had a smoke outside because tradition is tradition and few things in life are as good as being sort of drunk, dark outside, and Alex standing beside me. It also left time for it to feel like the world was cracking open in front of my eyes and daunting truths that I didn’t want to let slip from my lips now felt powerless to stop them from coming out of my mouth. “We should probably talk about it now. Before you go.”

He nodded but didn’t talk.

“This is a bit of an endless cycle,” I said. “You and me and maybe—”

He interrupted. “Let’s talk about it later.” He wouldn’t look me in the eye. The ground was much more interesting. “After the tour.”

“Okay,” I muttered. Anything not bite-sized felt impossible.

We left it at that. The routine didn’t change but everything was tinted differently. A sense of goodbye haunted the area. We were numbed by alcohol. In the morning, we hugged goodbye tightly like we were two old pals. As if we were in a timeline where all we ever were to each other was friends.

Photos were taken of us outside the nightclub and it made me laugh. I have a sense of humour about these things that might be misplaced but Alex and I joked about it as if we’d be cutting it out and placing it in our scrapbook. Like the conversation being photographed wasn’t some awkward jolted painful thing. Like we weren’t some awkward jolted painful thing. 

*

History Lesson was released on the first day of November. It was less eventful than my first book. I suppose the second time around isn’t as exciting. You’ve already conquered the mountaintop and after people aren’t as shocked you did it a second time. Or maybe it is more shocking? If you do it well I guess, which was kind of the consensus for that collection of stories. It sticks out like a sore thumb and maybe my lack of enthusiasm was because I wasn’t super satisfied with how it turned out.

Still, I did a book tour for it, which was fine. I’m still not a fan of tours. I like home. Whatever or whoever that is at the time.

It was the last one I ever did and with reason because I don’t really see why authors have to tour and scattered signings around major cities are fine with me. I went to Syracuse on this tour. Syracuse is not fun in winter.

But I ended up in LA. For Alex and me, this was the benefit of touring.

He came to the event. I think I hated that most of all about the book tour. He showed up before it began and we grabbed a coffee at this place on the corner because I hate Starbucks (I wish it was in the social justice way but no they just always mess up my order). He joked about showing up at the table to get his book signed and I said if he did that I’d skin him alive.

Luckily, he didn’t. We talked about the book briefly, mostly him just being nice about it, things that weren’t true despite his continued claim that they were even after I told him to shut up about it. We walked back to the bookstore and I refused him being in the audience of chairs so he walked around and stood out of my view. He said he wouldn’t listen in but I know he did.

On the drive back to his place, he wouldn’t stop talking about how eloquently I had spoken. I think he got a kick out of the way I told him to stop and would duck my head to the side so he couldn’t see I was blushing.

“And you always said you were a horrible public speaker but you’re a fucking good one,” he enthused.

We were stuck in LA traffic. “I think you’re gonna need your eyes checked, Al. I said ‘um’ about a million times and stuttered while reading my own words.”

He shook his head. “You’ve heard me speak and you think you’re bad at talking.”

“You know, we can both be bad at something. It’s not a competition.”

He chuckled tightly, almost embarrassed by it, covering his mouth as it rippled out. “Oh, my god. You of all people are saying it’s not a competition.”

I squashed my laugh the best I could. “Fair enough. But I think we both lose either way.”

*

He made me dinner. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. One that was sloppy and that he forgot to bring out a fork for me and he oversalted it but I didn’t say anything. It was too lovely to ruin with my criticism.

“I would love to learn how to cook but there’s barely any space in my apartment so if a fire starts the whole place would burn down right away,” I told him over a glass of wine.

“As long as you can boil water, I think you’re fine,” he assured me. “You could come out here and practice.”

I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve got a lot of space in my kitchen. If you ever wanted to try or something.”

I didn’t engage with his suggestion. I wanted to enjoy my stay and whatever this was. My response to it, a rejection of LA and moving out here again for him, would ruin that bliss. I changed the subject and everything else went along smoothly.

My stay was supposed to be for a week. As the week moved further along, Alex dropped words about how warm LA was compared to the bitter cold New York had become. Again, I didn’t engage with it. We enjoyed our time hiking, movies, drinking, and having sex.

We didn’t kiss outside the area of sex. If one of us kissed the other it was a clear message of “Hey, I’d like to fuck you now.” We both had free schedules and a large house to ourselves so it was easy to engage in this behaviour. 

One evening, while I was giving him head a pain shot through my mouth. I pulled back instantly clutching my cheek. “What?” He asked. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head not able to talk with the pain in my mouth.

“Are you okay?”

I shook my head again.

“Okay. Okay. What can I do?” His concern was unimaginably sweet but I couldn’t help my amusement of his hard dick standing there while I winced. “Medicine?”

I shrugged but after I opened my mouth an inch and excruciating pain rippled through my whole body I quickly nodded. 

Alex ran off to fetch some. I sat trying to dissect the pain. I felt around my mouth with my tongue and the pain just increased more. He returned to the sight of my body curled up on my side and my face scrunched up barely able to look at him.

He held my back to help me sit up. I struggled to open my mouth to take the pills. After I swallowed, he asked, “What hurts? Did you break something?”

I managed to mumble. “Mouth. Teeth.”

“Did you break a tooth?”

I shook my head.

“You still have your wisdom teeth, right?”

I nodded and pointed a finger, emphasizing that this was definitely that.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in this much pain.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered. “Sleep make better.” I started to spread out on his bed.

“I think you should be able to talk more than Frankenstein’s monster.”

It made me laugh, which only hurt me more. It took me a while to fall asleep. He stayed up until I did.

*

My teeth were infected. Not only infected but impacted. They were laid on their side, unable to fully erupt, stuck in my gums, infecting them, and now my mouth. Of course, they had erupted just enough to begin slicing the side of my cheeks.

It was determined through the emergency dentist, Alex, and myself that I would not be going back to New York with my wisdom teeth. I couldn’t imagine going through airport security with that level of pain, I could barely make the car ride to the dentist.

On the ride back from the consultation where it was determined that I would need to get them removed as soon as possible but still had to wait until they had an opening, Alex joked, “Do you think my cum infected it?”

It was so gross and disgusting and made me laugh so hard that I forgot about the pain for a moment until it shot through me again. As I winced, he took one hand off the wheel and placed it on my shoulder, squeezing it and rubbing my upper back for the remainder of the car ride. I wanted to kiss him, kiss the hand that was the only comfort I had, but it hurt too much.

After I got them removed, drugged up, and gauze stuffed in my mouth to stop the bleeding, I talked in muffled words as the dentist told Alex the aftercare instructions. I felt warm all over him watching him listen intently to the dentist but also stare at me and my messed up swollen face. He made faces at me to make me feel a little better like I was a baby he was playing peek-a-boo with. I don’t remember anything I said but Alex said I was emotional and very funny. So, not much different than my regular disposition.

The hazy effect of the drugs began to ease up on the car ride home where I was able to at least follow what was going on around me. “I love drugs. Modern medicine is great.”

“Yeah, you’d probably be dead from the infection otherwise.”

I stared at Alex. “Wow, thanks. That’s really comforting.”

“Well, you’re not dead.”

“Thanks, Al. I didn’t realize.” I laughed. I don’t know if I found it funny or the drugs found it funny. “I would’ve had to have you use pilers to get them out.”

He grimaced before shaking off the thought. “Well, all of your wisdoms gone. What are you going to do now?”

I rolled my eyes. “Very funny, dad.”

*

In the days of recovering, we camped out on the couch. We talked occasionally but that was tough for me in the first few days. Alex did a good job of taking care of me. Better than I would have done that’s for sure. He made food and searched high and low for these freezy pops I like that had a tough time being located in winter.

As I began to get better and actually function independently with manageable pain, the question of when I would leave was raised. The unanswerable idea of what we were doing remained until the swelling in my mouth went down and I told him, “We should probably talk about it before I leave. You know, boundaries and rules.”

He smirked. “You’re very proper.”

I shamed him for making me laugh. It was always his greatest tool in distracting me. “I’m serious.”

“Shall we write up a contract?”

I rolled my eyes. “Alex.”

“Jane,” he sighed. He leaned against the back of the couch, placing his head on his fist. He looked too relaxed for my liking. I was mulling things over, stuck in distress and he looked fine as ever. “You’re going back to New York. I’m staying here.”

“So, we should…end it.”

“Is that what you want?” He was wide-eyed like he either didn’t want to believe me or didn’t believe me at all.

I almost lied. It would have been easier. It would heal the wound and not leave things festering to be hurt more. It would be closure but that would have been boring. “No.”

His mouth ticked up. “There it is then.”

I raised an eyebrow, still completely lost on our status. “Are you my boyfriend again?”

“Do you want me to be?”

I threw my hands up in the air. I pulled my hair into a bun feeling too heated to have it down. “Why do I have to make all the decisions?”

“Everyone knows you wear the pants in the relationship, Janie.”

“Sexist,” I quipped.

He smiled all-knowingly like he had a premonition of how this was all going to turn out and he was just waiting for me to realize it. “Do you want me to make the decision?”

I shrugged. I liked having my way but I no longer wanted to drag the person along with me, kicking and screaming. “I’d like your input. I care what you think.”

“I think you’ll go back to New York and I’ll stay here and in the next couple of months maybe I’ll visit and maybe you’ll visit or we meet somewhere. I could be your boyfriend then. If you wanted.”

“Like during those visits?”

“Yeah, and if during those times when you’re alone in New York if you want to go out with some other guy then that’s fine with me.” He was very matter-of-fact. Not one ounce of jealousy poured out of him and I realized that it no longer bugged me. It kind of turned me on more than a jealous Alex ever did. He trusted me. Go figure, that’s actually a good thing.

I smirked at him, inching closer. “Is this just your rule so you can bang a bunch of hot girls?”

“No,” he chuckled, “if I wanted to bang hot girls I wouldn’t be driving you to the airport tomorrow.”

I blushed because he was saying things like that and looking at me like that and I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to get on a plane tomorrow when I wanted to be doing just that. 

“And if at some point New York gets boring or too cold or if LA burns down or people talk about their cold-pressed juices too much then maybe we’ll end up somewhere together.”

The idea felt mature and practically and maybe a little flawed but it felt like a Sex & the City adult relationship. We both knew what we could give the other and this time expectations were set to prevent disappointment.

He kissed me for the first time since the surgery. We didn’t have sex after. He just wanted to kiss me to kiss me. 

*

a/n: i hope this isn't too alexa chung coded. anyway, i'm very proud of this chapter. maybe just because i wrote so much. so i hope you like it. happy v day.

[sinofwriting]

ours - Daniel Ricciardo (listen, please verse)

Words: 5,479 Summary: Daniel and Sweets first time together. Warnings/Notes: Smut, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, Daniel’s really filthy mouth and thoughts, Daniel being a freak, barebacking, creampie(?), slight angst towards the end but ends in fluff, and once again Daniel's filthy mouth and thoughts. (Also the first time I’ve written full on smut in so long and it’s been this lengthy (no pun intended). Really proud of it though and hope you all enjoy.) (part of the listen, please verse but can be read separately)

Masterlist | Support Me! | listen, please verse

He sucks in a harsh breath, trying to breath again at the sight in front of him. It was fucking beautiful, gorgeous and before he can stop himself he opens his big mouth.

“You’ve got the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.” Her thighs clench together, “Daniel.” She whines and he drags his eyes away and up her body. Taking in her heaving chest, bottom lip caught between her teeth and wide eyes. His own eyes however immediately fall back to in between her thighs and he can feel his dick throb.

She really did have the prettiest cunt he’d ever seen.

It was all pretty colors, a little slick clinging to her. She wasn’t completely hairless either, something that made him swallow hard. The space where her thighs and pelvis met was free of hair, along with a good majority of her pubic bone. But where she did have hair, it was trimmed. Clearly very carefully groomed and it was all in the places that he knew from a previous ex girlfriend needed a little hair to help protect everything. Though the sight of her like this had never gotten him so excited.

Daniel presses closer, face in between her thighs and he flicks his eyes up, looking at hers. “Can I?” She quickly nods, lip still caught between her teeth.

With her permission, he presses closer. Face just barely an inch away from where he wants to bury himself when he takes a deep breath through his nose and immediately fucking groans. His dick throbs again at the mouth watering scent of her.

“You’re fucking perfect, sweets. Haven’t even gotten my mouth on you yet and fuck,” he cuts himself off with another groan as the image of his mouth on her enters his mind. He was fucking thirty-two yet he felt like a teenager. About to bust just from the thought of touching a girl.

Her thighs try to press together and he grips them tighter. He’d happily let her suffocate him some other time, but not right now. Not for the first time.

“Can I taste you? Get you off with my mouth before I stretch you with my fingers?” “Yes,” she gasps, hips bucking a little. “Please, Daniel. Please.”

He wants to grin at the sound of her begging, at how eager she is. But he can’t not when he’s the same way.

He wants to dive straight in, bury himself in between her thighs and make her cum on his tongue until she’s yanking his curls so hard they're nearly torn out as she tries to get him to stop. Wants to feel her push him away and then closer, pain and pleasure mixing together so much that her body doesn’t know what it needs. He just wants.

Ducking his head, he presses a kiss to her left inner thigh before turning to do the same to the right. He then presses a kiss to her clit, shuddering at the whine that leaves her at the contact. Moving his head down a little, he pokes his tongue out tasting the small amount of slick clinging to her folds and immediately groans at the taste.

He can’t narrow down everything she tastes like, but he can taste a bit of sweat and blood, which makes him take another deep inhale, it also reminds him of some of the plain yogurt he gets every time he’s in monaco. It’s intoxicating and he moves so his left arm is pining her hips to the bed while his right hand moves so it’s fingers are exposing more of her. Spreading her open so he can taste everything she has to give.

Daniel isn’t sure how long he spends between her legs. Going between licking her open, spit and slick making her deliciously wet, to pressing his tongue to her clit, making shapes, spelling out letters and numbers till he finds what makes her legs shake and his name come out as a gasp. He tries not to let it get to him that it’s the number three that makes her gasp and try to buck her hips upwards, wanting more.

He tries, but when he does it again and she whines, he can’t help but groan, rocking his own hips into the bed before really burying his face in her. Nose bumping her clit as his tongue presses inside her.

“Daniel!” She clenches and he flicks his tongue upwards again, rocking his hips when he’s rewarded with his name as a near shout spilling from her lips again.

Pulling back, he rubs her clit with his thumb. “You gonna cum for me, sweets?” She nods, “yes, please.” He runs his pinky gently over her thigh, soothing her. “Gonna cum all over my tongue, let me taste you?” He asks as if he hasn’t spent however long doing exactly that. “Yes.” “Good girl.” And before she can react to the name, he’s back between her thighs, keeping his thumb rubbing circles on her clit even though it’s awkward and overkill with how his nose bumps into the small bud. But it earns him more slick flowing out of her and onto his tongue, which he laps up. Pressing his tongue back inside of her, he thrusts it once, then twice before feeling her body tense up.

He quickly rubs harsher circles on her clit, being rewarded with her hips trying to push up, thighs attempting to come together and her moans and groans before she finally spills over his tongue with a near scream of his name as she tugs at his curls.

He groans at the wave of cum that floods over his tongue as he pulls it out of her. He laps over her entrance trying to get every drop until she’s pushing his head away.

Lifting his head, Daniel smiles at the sight of her. Her eyes are closed, mouth open a little as she pants. Chest moving up and down rapidly. One of her arms still extended downwards from when she had her fingers twisted in his hair, the other laying flat against the bed.

The sight makes him throb a little in his joggers and he can’t resist rocking down one more time against the bed, before he pushes himself up. He quickly moves so he’s laying right beside her, wanting to reach out and gently touch her arm but doesn’t know how sensitive she is.

“That was…” she trails off, finally opening her eyes and turning her head to look at him. “So good.” “Yeah?’ He grins, hand twitching, wanting to touch her, but he redirects it to his shirt which he draws up to wipe at his face. Getting rid of any slick on his face that hasn’t yet dried. She nods, letting out a breathless sort of laugh, eyes falling to his exposed chest before they move back up when his shirt drops. “Yeah.”

Reaching up, her hands rests on the back of his neck as she presses for him to lean down, pressing their lips together as soon as he’s in reach.

She’s never tasted herself before, never done anything sexual with someone else except give a few previous boyfriends handjobs, but she doesn’t mind the taste of herself. It’s not like anything she’s ever really tasted before and she can feel blood rush to her cheeks at the thought of kissing Daniel after he’s cummed in her mouth. Wonders if he’d even want to kiss after she’s given him a blowjob. Her mind then conjures the image of him in between her legs, but this time inside of her and she can feel herself clench around nothing.

“I want more.” She murmurs, when they both pull back, foreheads pressed together, breathing in each other's air. His eyes widened slightly, “you sure? Your thighs have barely stopped shaking.” “I’m sure.” She takes a breath, “I want you in me.”

She doesn’t expect the way his eyes slam shut and the groan of her name, but it makes her confident. And she pulls him until he’s on top of her, hovering, with his arms on either side of her head, bracing his weight.

“Are you sure?” He asks again, eyes open and looking into hers. “We haven’t done anything like this before. And I don’t mind waiting for us to have sex for the first time. It’d be worth the wait.” Something in her stomach flutters at his words, at how sweet he is. “I know, but I want this.” She takes a breath. “I want you, Daniel.” He leans down, sharing a sweet kiss with her. “Okay. But I want to apologize in advance for how short this might be. I’ve been hard as a rock since we we’re on the couch.” She can’t help but laugh and he grins at the sound.

He liked being playful in bed. Liked being able to laugh during and before sex. Because sometimes sex was stupid and things happened that if you didn’t laugh about it then, it would just be awkward later.

It had taken him a while to know that pausing to laugh during sex or just laughing mid thrust was okay, didn’t mean that it wasn’t good or that the night was over. He was glad that despite how much younger and maybe inexperienced she was, that she was okay with laughing in bed.

“I know we’re both clean.” They had exchanged results just a month ago, when tension had started to really build between them. “But I still need to grab a condom.” She frowns at the idea of him getting off the bed to go over to where his bag is. Where she knows a strip of condoms is. It was barely a few feet away, but it seemed too far. “What if we went without?” His heart skips a beat, before coming back twice as fast. “You want to go bare?” “I just,” she pauses. “We’re both clean, I’m on birth control, and I can always doordash some plan b.” “I’ve, uh. I’ve never gone bare.” Hadn’t really thought about it either, other than when he was younger and it seemed like a fucking hardship to walk three feet to get a condom. But even then the thought had been fleeting, just in the moment. But the thought of it now? Of nothing separating them? Of getting to sink into her sweet, hot cunt with no condom on? It made him throb and swallow hard around the sudden lump in his throat. “It could be a first for both of us.” Her gentle voice saying those words, made him squeeze his eyes shut, hand suddenly disappearing between them to grab at the base of his cock. “Shit, sweetheart.” He hisses.

“You like that idea?” Her voice is slightly lower. “Being the first person to cum inside me?” He squeezes a little harder, “Keep talking and I’m going to bust as soon as I get inside you.” The sound of her giggling makes him open his eyes and he can’t help but smile at her. Smile at how she’s smiling at him. “That’s okay.” She mumbles, looping both her arms around his neck, dragging him a bit closer. “You can always make it up to me later.” He stares at her in disbelief, because she wasn’t lying, her eyes shining with honesty. He dips his head down, kissing her deeply. Relishing in the way she moans into it and her nails lightly drag at the skin on the nape of his neck.

“No, this is our first time. I want it to be good for you too.” “It would be Daniel. It’s you. You could do anything and it would be a good first time.” Her belief in him and her ever shining honesty makes him kiss her again. “No, sweets.” He tells her when he pulls away. “I want you cumming around my cock before I finish. For me, to make it good for me.” “Whatever you want.” “Exactly.” He says a serious expression on his face before he breaks into a laugh, happy to hear her giggle along with him.

Her giggle turns to a gasp when his fingers that had been previously wrapped around the base of his cock swipe through her folds.

“Do you have any lube? You’re wet, sweets, but I want to make sure.” She nods, stretching out to reach her left nightstand and opening the drawer and taking out a small bottle of lube. “You’ll have to get undressed first.” She tells him when he tries to reach for the bottle, but she keeps it away from him. “Oh, I see. You just want me naked.” She can’t help but laugh, nodding. “Daniel, you didn’t think that I was with you for anything other than your body, did you?” His mouth falls open a bit at her cheek as he sits back on his haunches, a hand coming up over his heart. “Wow, sweets. That is just cruel. I mean, really. I give you an earth shattering orgasm.” She laughs a little harder at that and he can’t help but grin for a second. “And this is how you treat me.” “Well, I don’t know about earth shattering.” She teases, but before he can say anything she’s quick to say. “But it was without a doubt the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“You’re a fucking menace, sweets.” He breathes after a moment, releasing the base of his cock once again. “And you’re still not naked.” The words and filled with want they are, make him flush.

Taking off his shirt, he can’t help but preen at how her eyes settle on his exposed abdomen. It’s awkward taking off his joggers and boxers while still being on the bed, all too aware of her eyes on him, but he manages without falling off or hitting himself or her. Pushing the clothes off the bed, he notices where her eyes are glued and can’t help but smirk, chest puffing out a little at her wide eyed expression and slight open mouth.

He knows he’s big, but not so much that it's ever hurt anyone. He’s just over eight inches hard and is thick enough that he fits comfortably in his hand, thumb only going over his fingers a bit when he holds himself.

Before he can say anything, tease her for staring, she’s reaching out for him with her hand not holding the lube and he goes. Settling between her legs in a different way than earlier. He kisses her next, soft and gentle, reassuring and all consuming.

“You still want to do this?” He murmurs when they break apart, eyes heavy and filled with lust. “Yes.” The answer comes out a little breathless and so do the words that follow. “I want you, Danny.”

The next sound that fills the room is the snick of the lube opening, as Daniel puts some on his right pointer and middle finger, carefully rubbing them together to warm it before slipping his hand between their bodies and then her thighs.

Her thighs twitch a little at the first touch to her folds, before she spreads her thighs a little further apart. Moving his fingers a little further down, he feels her clench around nothing when he presses his finger against her hole. Not pushing in, just resting.

Leaning down he presses their lips together and when she opens her mouth a little to let his tongue slide against hers, he presses his finger inside. She’s warm and wet and tight. So fucking tight despite him eating her out not even ten minutes ago and the thought of her wrapped around his cock makes him groan into the kiss, pulling back so he can look down where he’s fingering her.

It’s beautiful watching his finger move in and out, curling it upwards slightly before pressing in another. Her thighs twitch at the second finger and his eyes flicker back up to her face. There’s no pain or discomfort, not even a hint that the stretch is too much, but the way her hands are curled up in the sheets like she doesn’t know if she can touch makes him frown. Wondering what exactly the guy or guys before him have done to her in bed that now that he’s fingering her, she thinks she can’t touch him.

“Baby,” the word falls out before he can think, making him blink because that’s never been a pet name he’s used.

He likes sweetheart, darling, sometimes honey, and with her he likes calling her sweets, my girl. But baby is a new one to roll off his tongue. He shakes the thought from his head, if he wanted to, he could think about it later, not now.

He spreads his fingers, scissoring them as he gets her ready for a third finger. “Touch me.” “I,” she starts, but he curls his fingers upwards and she loses herself to the pleasure with a moan. “Touch me, sweets. I want you to touch me.”

Daniel watches as her hands clench around the sheets before they release the fabric. One of her hands goes to his back and he has a fleeting thought of both of her hands on his back, clutching at him, nails digging in so deep that they leave scratches that bleed, but it disappears when her other hand rests on his cheek. Fingertips dancing over his cheekbone.

He smiles at her, kissing her hand at the same time he pushes in a third finger. She gasps, clenching around them, eyes tightening in the corners for a few seconds, before she relaxes again.

Now with three fingers, he moves so his thumb is gently rubbing at her clit, wanting to keep slick flowing and not knowing if just his fingers inside of her will do that. The stimulation earns him a sigh and a buck of her hips.

Moving his fingers inside of her, he spreads them a bit before pulling them out and back in. He continues to do that, repeating the same motions and watching as fingers disappear inside of her only to reappear with wetness spread all over them.

“Daniel,” she moans when he goes to push his fingers back in. “Please, I want you in me.” “You don’t want to cum like this?” He rubs a circle on her clit, making her clench, but she shakes her head. “Want you in me. Want to cum around you.” He curses, mind scrambling as he pulls out his fingers, hand grappling in the sheets by her hip where there should be a condom, before his mind catches up, remembering that they decided not to use one.

He shuffles a little, before finally wrapping a hand around himself, guiding himself to her entrance before stopping. The tip just pressing against her as he leans down for a kiss. “I love you.” He murmurs. She smiles, lashes fanning out beautifully as her eyes close for a second. “I love you too.”

Pressing against her, he sucks in a harsh breath as his head pops inside of her. Her walls clinging to it.

“Shit.” He breathes, hips stuttering as he pulls back and then forward, sinking himself a little further into her. “Daniel.” His eyes that he hadn’t even realized closed, open at the sound of his name. “You alright?” He asks, seeing her face twisted a little. “Yeah.” She nods, hands clutching at his back, trying to draw him closer. “Bigger than your fingers.” He huffs out a laugh, pushing in a bit more before finally removing his hand and framing her head with his forearms. “I’d say sorry.” She shakes her head. “It’s okay. Good.” She murmurs. He makes a humming noise, trying not to think about how he already feels good to her and he’s barely inside of her.

Daniel watches her face carefully as he slowly sinks more and more into her. Nearly grabbing the lube to pour some on himself at how tight she is, but her own hips are tilting upwards, trying to get him further in. And it’s a fucking fight to not just sink all the way. Feel her completely wrapped around him.

Another twist of her features has him pausing. “You alright?” She nods, “yeah, just big.” Her hips twist a little to the right and the left as if trying to find a more comfortable position. And his eyes dart upwards to the pillows on his side of the bed.

Planting his left hand on the bed, he moves his right arm until his fingers curl around a pillow. “Lift your hips sweetheart.” She does and he quickly stuffs it underneath her. Cursing himself that he hadn’t thought to do this earlier. “Better?” He asks, seeing her face no longer twisted up and her hips bucking a little. “Much.” And she lifts her head, pressing their lips together. “Thank you.” He shakes his head, “this is supposed to be good for the both of us. I’m just doing my job, sweets.”

He starts to pull out, not expecting the way her nails dig into his back and the whine that comes from the back of her throat. It makes him throb, the arousal he had managed to push away coming to the forefront of his mind with vengeance.

“Dan,” “I know.” He mutters, not sure if he actually does. But continues to pull out until just the head of his cock is inside of her. Walls clinging to it, almost like they’re trying to coax the rest of him back inside of her.

Pushing in again, he groans, head falling at the sound of her moaning.

He continues that. Pulling nearly all the way out before pushing back in, going a little further each time. Until finally he sinks all the way inside of her.

They’re both panting, chests and stomachs sticking together a little with sweat and as he kisses her forehead he can taste the sweat starting to gather there.

“You all good?” He asks after a moment, voice tight as he tries to not start thrusting. “I think I hate your dick.” His laugh immediately fills the room, though he stops quickly at the way it moves the two. “Already? Barely been in you?” He grins at her. She pokes her bottom lip out more, enjoying how his eyes lock onto it. “Just not how I thought this would go.” “You thought about this?” His voice lower, rougher and she can feel blood rush to her face. “Yeah, I mean. Of course.” “Hmm.” He rocks his hips a little enjoying the way her mouth falls open with a gasp. “How’d you think it would go?” “Faster,” she gasps as he rolls his hips. “You wouldn’t have ate me out.” He scoffs at the idea. “You’re lucky I didn’t spend more time there. Especially with how good you taste. Might end up living there, in between your thighs, mouth pressed against your cunt.” She moans and clenches around him at the last word and his eyes shine with delight, grin turning dangerous.

“You like that, sweetheart?” He asks, starting to thrust. “Me talking about your cunt? How sweet it is? How wet and tight?” “Yes.” The sound is a mix of a gasp and a moan. “Love hearing you.” “Hearing me what?” He slows his thrusts to a filthy grind. “Love hearing you,” she pauses to moan as he presses his lips to her neck, head tilting back to give him more space. “Love you talking about my cunt.” He curses at the word coming from her lips, dick twitching, and he nips at her neck. “Filthy little thing. Wanting me to talk about your cunt.” He snaps his hips, earning a cry of pleasure from her.

“You like how my cock fills you up, stretching out your tight, hot, little cunt?” “Yes!” Her hips try to press more into him and he curses, pressing all of his weight into his left forearm as his right goes to grasp at her hip, hand gripping it tight. “Fuck, Daniel.” “Can feel you clench every time I say it. Practically strangling me.” “Daniel!” He can feel the coil in his stomach tightening and he stretches his hand out, thumb barely able to reach her clit where he starts to rub. Her eyes rolling back in her head at the sensation.

“Feel so fucking good around me.” He curses. “Best cunt I’ve ever been in.” And his hips stutter at the way she clenched around him. “Please, Daniel.” “What do you need?” “I,” she’s cut off by a whine. “I don’t know.” And there’s tears in her eyes as she feels her orgasm so close but out of reach. “Shh.” He soothes her, pressing down to kiss her. Loving how she sighs into him, mouth opening up for him. “Want me to pull out?” Her fingers dig in deep and he hisses at the sting of them. “Okay, okay. You want me to go faster?” “Yeah,” and her grip on his back loosens a bit. “Still want you to cum in me.” He groans, hips picking up speed. “Alright. I can do that, baby.”

As his thrusts pick up pace, he presses his thumb a little harder against her clit, rubbing tight circles on the little bud, resulting in whimpers and moans of his name that make him groan.

It’s a never ending loop of pleasure that makes him feel dizzy.

“Daniel,” this whine is a little more high pitched and his eyes are immediately darting to her face. “I’m gonna cum.” “Yeah?” She nods, one of her hands moving from his sweat slicked back to his neck. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me. Cum around my cock.” He tells her. And she does. Head going back as a beautiful sound leaves her mouth. Her whole body shaking around and under him. Her nails dig into the back of his neck and his back, legs tightening so much around his waist that he can’t thrust but merely grind in her.

It doesn’t matter though because the sound of her cumming, the feeling of it triggers his own orgasm, nearly taking him by surprise and the only thing that leaves his mouth is her name.

He barely manages to pull his hand out from between them, before just about collapsing on top of her, hips still pumping into her a bit as he milks the last of both their orgasms. She makes a slight noise at his weight resting on top of her, but then hums, fingers no longer digging into his skin but running over it with gentle barely there touches.

After a moment, he manages to brace his weight on his forearms again. “Was that alright?” She nods, eyes closed and a blissful smile on her face. “Perfect.” She sighs. “It was perfect.” He ducks his head down, unable to resist kissing her. “It’ll be better next time. I’ll try to prove I can last longer than this.” Her eyes pop open, “longer?” He hums a yes, an arm moving so his hand can gently pull her thigh away from where it’s hugging it’s waist and he presses a kiss to her leg when she lets it drop from him and then the other one. “Maybe not as long as I normally do or can last, but next time will definitely be longer than this.” He tells her as he carefully pulls out of her, rubbing at her thighs when she winces, before sitting on his haunches, her hands slipping away from his body at the movement. “You’re going to kill me.” She whines, a hand going up to cover her face but he can’t reply not with what he’s looking at.

Her thighs are all spread apart, slick on the inside of them, and he can even feel it on his groin. Just knows that if he doesn’t take a shower tonight, he’ll regret it in the morning. But the real thing that’s got his attention is what’s in between her thighs. His soft dick giving a twitch and he knows if he was about ten years younger he’d already be hard again, but now it will take him at least another five minutes.

She’s all slick and shiny. Lips puffy and swollen and her clit is as well. But her hole is gaping slightly as cum, his cum, drips out of it. It makes him want to bury his head back inbetween her thighs, scoop up his cum with his tongue and fuck it back into her. The thought makes him swallow hard and shake his head. Fuck, he really was a dirty bastard.

It’s only as his dick gives another stirring interest that he forces his eyes away. “What did you say?” Daniel asks, only remembering him telling her that he’d last longer next time. “You’re going to kill me.” She repeats, though it’s muffled by her hand. He laughs, “what you’ve never had sex that lasted more than fifteen minutes before? Because trust me sweetheart, it gets good the longer you go.” He nearly winks but her widened eyes and suddenly tense body stops him. “Oh my god.” She murmurs, hand falling away from her face. And suddenly she’s scrambling to sit up, hissing at the way muscles she’s never used before burn. “What? What’s wrong?” He asks, reaching out to hold her, but she shakes her head, and his arms fall back to his sides and hurt filling him. She had never not let him touch her. “I’m so sorry, Dan. I thought I’d mentioned it or brought it up. Whatever you want to call it.” She apologizes, tears starting to gather in her eyes. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” And he wants to reach out again, but doesn’t want to get rejected again, doesn’t know if he can handle it. “It’s not.” She shakes her head and she regrets not letting him hold her. This would be much easier if he was holding her. “I’ve never, or I had never done this before.” She tells him, but he just looks at her confused and it makes her lips pressed together. “This was my first time.” The words come out a little quiet. “I hadn’t had sex before until now.” His face goes blank at her words and she can feel herself panic a little. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I thought I’d brought it up before. I was so sure I had, because we talk about everything. I don’t know why,” she stops herself with a groan running a hand over her face. “I’m sorry.” She says again, not knowing what to do or say.

Silence fills the room and her eyes fall onto her lap where her hands rest, fingers interlacing before separating and then repeating. Her heart sits a little heavy in her chest. She doesn’t think this will ruin her and Daniel or mark the end of them. But she does think that maybe it will fracture some of his trust in her.

So in her head, she doesn’t notice his arms moving until they’re wrapped around her and pulling her into his lap and she can’t help but make a face realizing that his cum is still trickling out of her and probably trickling onto him.

“Get out of your head, sweetheart.” “Dan,” she starts, but he covers her mouth. “No. Out of your head.” His voice is a little more stern, accent a little thicker and it makes her wriggle a little in his lap. “This doesn’t change anything. We do talk about everything, there’s no blame to be had for thinking we had talked about this when we hadn’t. Besides,” he swallows. “I think earlier you did mention it, but I thought you were talking about our first time, not both yours and our first time. But it’s okay. You know why?” She shakes her head and he removes his hand from her mouth, looking into her eyes. “Because I wouldn’t change a single thing about this night, other than the pillow. I should’ve had your hips propped up from the start.” She lets out a little laugh and he smiles. “But really. I made you cum around my tongue first, got you all relaxed for me. Didn’t half ass the fingering or just stuck it in you. So, I’ve got no problems with this being your first time and ours.” “Really?” “Really.” He then grins, a little smug. “Besides, I kind of like being the only person you’ll ever have sex with.” She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.” But her smile turns soft and she brushes their lips together. “I like the thought of only having sex with you as well.” “Good. Because it’s just you and me for the rest of our lives.” She nods. “Just you and me.”

---

Tagging: @lpab @gemofthenight

[mossy-paws]

Get in the fucking biograft, Shuriken. (EVANGELION/PHIGHTING!)

(og screenshot’s/cover under text!) Why hello there to my tumblr followers, it’s been a awhile /silly

ANYWAYS!!! Guess who recently finished the EVA franchise minus the rebuilds and has been in a horrible chokehold over it, this anime ruined my life but hey at least its intro theme is nice……

Well, I wanted to draw some stuff for it! All together these pieces took exactly 48 hours and 20 minutes… with the cover-piece taking ~35(?) of those hours. These were… very, VERY time costly safe to say LOL,,, I am super, SUPER proud of how the cover came out though, everything on it was drawn, colored, rendered, edited, whatever, BY HAND stroke by stroke (as you can see below)

The text, the lineart, the shadows, the colors, the snowflakes on the bio and Shuri, EVERYTHING was done by hand, it was horribly time costly but it did come out very, VERY well in the end I would say (fun fact! I also didn’t originally have the textless version of the cover, and I had to trace all of the lineart for bio’s tophalf by just guessing what line when where and what the hell was going on /silly)

this was a very, very hard project to do all together, but it was also a really nice learning experience too, I’m happy i did it that’s for sure :3!

(og screenies + cover)

[silverhalla]

I think it would be rly sick if you went to go build a crow rook and the surname was Arainai

like…. just another little compradi trying to bring glory back to your house - rinnala and taliesin are dead by the house’s hand, zevran failed and deserted, guili murdered in the night, all semblance of power lost once again. the house is trying to claw its way back up, futile as it seems. that’s the way of house arainai, isn’t it? talon to knife to talon to knife to nothing, same as it’s been since the house first lost power in the early dragon age. but you, bright-eyed little crow, you’ll break the cycle, won’t you? for the family?

after all, caterina’s prized heir is right there - the demon of vyrantium, the infamous mage killer, sleeping just down the hall. you can be quiet, can’t you? all those means at your disposal, and all the opportunities you could want. you could find a way in under that armor, get to something soft and bruisable and make it bleed. he’s far from home, isn’t he? without a friend? confidantes are few and far between - even a demon must get lonely.

maybe he’d even trust you. you’re a clever little bird, right? you can find something to exploit. after all, what does a would-be talon do except claw, except maim? what else would you be good for? there is no gentleness to crows - you are here to deliver a message: run, little demon, quick as you like.

house arainai will make carrion of you yet.

[atopvisenyashill]

if i did a reread of the walking dead and wrote an essay on how aegon ii and carl are doomed to be the last man standing by their narratives, and what starts out as a sort of cool & nifty super power of always surviving turns into this horrific curse where everyone they know is dying around them & sometimes it’s their fault & sometimes it’s not but either way they can’t ever stop it until they’re sitting at the ending with nothing but their lone daughter to protect but so broken they can no longer connect to her and then their story abruptly ends-

would that be like the Most stupid, nerdy thing i have ever done in my life or

[talentforlying]

LET ME ASSIGN YOU AN AESTHETIC WORD.

CAFUNÉ. cafuné means running your fingers through someone's- perhaps a lover, hair. it's such an intimate, affectionate way of showing love. if you got this result, you're a romantic at heart; very sweet, delicate, precious wandering soul. aren't you scared of your heart being too big for your body? somehow, you remind me of that pretty coral pink that bleeds into a soft indigo when the sun is slowly setting.

what i'd like to tell you is that we can't save everyone, and that's okay. you're doing your best, and it's enough.

tagged by: @danversiism!! <3 tagging: you!!

[pseudowho]

You could have walked to the café to meet Nanami Kento alone; you'd have preferred to, in truth, walking slowly in slow drizzle.

Instead, He walked you there, pushing through the tinkling door that He held for you, begrudgingly, as if you should be grateful. You could not look up to meet Kento's eye.

When you did look up to see Kento, stood waiting for your pre-mission meeting, He pulled your gaze back with a scowl, and a grab of your jaw.

Kento caught whispered berating; mumbled pleas.

"--just a work meeting...please--"

"--you remember to text me. You'll do well to remember you're mine."

You jolted from His pat-slap to your cheek, too sharp to be affectionate but too weak to turn heads. Still, humiliation festered on your face, putrefaction laid by His hand.

Kento remained unmoved, passively unthreatened by His filthy glance before He retreated from the shop. Something dark stirred in Kento's gut. The malice was not meant for you.

You sat at the table, wordless, your cold hands wrapping around a coffee which seemed to be, curiously, your exact order. Already here. Already waiting. Just for you.

Kento pulled his own chair out, sitting opposite you, one long tan-trousered leg crossing over the other. You looked down, your eyes cast in shadow. Kento looked to the insidious, gloomy drizzle outside, his sharp features cast sharper by the midday lamplight.

Eventually, achingly smooth, his voice called you home.

"What does 'mine' mean to you?"

You looked up at him, blinking. Your brain ticked.

"I don't...I don't know."

Kento was quiet again, leaning back in his armchair beneath the arching lamp, regarding the rain as though it watered his thoughts. He spoke again; you hung onto every word.

"When I was a boy, my grandfather left me a diamond."

The coffee shop buzz dimmed, and slowed, and muted. Kento captivated you so easily. The world fell away. Here he was. Already here. Already waiting. Just for you.

"It was...exquisite-- the diamond. The best and the brightest. A beauty amongst beauties." Kento took a deep breath in through his nose, feeling your cold little heart slow. "I didn't deserve it. It was...a privilege, to call it mine. A mantle that I bowed my head to bear."

Your fingers loosened around your coffee as Kento continued. His voice strained, aching for something.

"I could never be enough for the diamond, so I...I would build my life around it. Not in spite of it, but because of it. I hesitate to say I possessed it; it was no painting, or ivory box. Its beauty was far too timeless to be owned, for this diamond's beauty would outlive us all. If not in body, at least in memory."

The air felt light in your lungs, and you with it, as if you floated on helium, high and sweet. You yearned to reach for what was not yours. Your little voice spoke up, braver in Kento's ambient warmth.

"Tell me...tell me more."

Kento obliged. "On days when my diamond was dull, without its shine, I'd polish it more. I'm...gentle. I know it better than my own skin, and by the time I'm done, it sparkles."

Your eyes drifted closed to trap your sorrow. Your head bowed down, as if to be a diamond in daydream.

"On days when it shines-- and, god it does shine-- I can only step back and admire it, while it takes its time in the sun. They...deserve each others' beauty, the sun and she, and I would wither and rot if I kept them from each other. My diamond...my diamond deserves the world, and it deserves her."

Kento leaned forwards, now. His ambient warmth kindled higher until you burned as though he were the sun, and you yearned to blossom.

"I fear its loss; I am only, of course, a man, and I couldn't expect others not to covet such treasure, and so I keep it close. I would bring it to my bed, if only it would let me. I'd hold it in my sheets, if I did not fear I would sully it by my proximity alone."

Your lips parted so briefly, your objections snagging on your teeth to remain upon your tongue. Your heart weighed down with mercury and lead. Kento's voice could not be more than a whisper, and yet, with the steam-arm shrieks and the tamping chatter muted to insignificance, you could hear him.

"I would surround her with other beautiful things; not costly things, not necessarily, as if material goods were needed to enhance her. But rather, those things, and only those things that compliment her as she compliments them, be they wildflower or fairytale or fine wine."

Your coffee salted with the drop of a tear from your bowed face. Kento turned aside from your tears; not to disregard them, but to allow their trails to bloom as if creeping wisteria-- growth, in grief. A handkerchief slid across the table to you in one broad, calloused hand, and Kento sounded physically pained.

"Eventually, as I age, I recognise that all I was, am, and will be, can be traced back to such a diamond; not because I could not live without it-- that wouldn't be accurate. Rather, because, with the diamond removed from the equations which make the sum of me, the equations would unravel-- nothing would make sense, and if I ever tried to replace it, I would always come up short. I would never find the answer again. If I were to lose it...I could only surmise that I did not deserve it, like...like a prophecy fulfilled. It is not mine, and it will never be, if I seek to possess it."

As you fought the urge to gasp for air, Kento's voice grew bitter, snide. You caught the sharp edge of a blade; the darkness that reminded you that he could be a dangerous man.

"Men who use 'mine' for their partners are less than a stone's throw from boys who would use 'mine' for a toy car or a set of dominoes. As if...as if they are a thing to be played with, and jealously possessed, until they are discarded and forgotten."

Your coffees cooled in the chilly aftermath of Kento's monologue. Your purpose for meeting was forgotten. You were numb-footed as you stood, and followed Kento outside to the rain in the shelter of his great umbrella. He offered you an arm, and you took it, tucked close to his body.

It was curious, you thought, as Kento walked you to the train station. Arm in arm was less intimate in the eyes of society than hand in hand, but the hold was so much more intimate upon the body of the receiver.

Kento closed his fingers around yours, gently refusing, as you offered him back his handkerchief. He waited until you were beneath shelter, and did not turn to walk away until you did. Your heart pounded. Your body and mind were alive with sweet botanicals and promise. You turned on a pinhead, calling back up the subway steps.

"Kento! Did you...do you really have a...a diamond like that?"

A pause in wet footsteps. Fine needles of rain upon his umbrella. Kento called back.

"Sadly, no. It's only a dream. But if I did have that diamond...well. I would be proud to call her mine."

Your heart would surely burst. You couldn't breathe. Your cold little hand clasped the handrail on the stairs, and you sought to deny Kento's morbid prophecy.

"You could...you could steal it. A...a diamond. Your diamond."

A smile, and a hum.

"I could. Perhaps I shall. Perhaps...soon."

[peachedtv]

DOUBLE STUFFED ft. Bully!Satoru Gojo + Bully!Suguru Geto

✰ KINKTOBER 2023 SPECIAL...

✰ SUMMARY: Satoru and Suguru never meant to piss you off, but how could they stop when your reactions would always be so pretty? How could they stop when your reactions to more intimate things would be even better?

✰ CONTENT WARNINGS: afab, female!reader, bully!satosugu x reader, noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, multiple rounds, double penetration (anal and v), porn with some plot, marking, biting, semi-public sex (empty classroom), mentions of forced exhibitionism, breast/nipple play, degradation, fingering, squirting, cum eating, oral (fem and male receiving), face fucking, hair pulling, p in v sex, biting, minor blood, crying, creampie, unprotected sex, just a shit load of nasty fucking 😋

✰ WORD COUNT: 7.5k (WTFF)

✰ AUTHOR'S NOTE: having the most insane bully!satosugu brain rot to cope with mfing school

✰ MASTERLIST.

As much as you could hide it well, Satoru and Suguru really pissed you off.

You glare at Satoru, your hair completely drenched and your uniform in disarray. If you were naive, you would’ve mistaken Satoru for accidentally bumping into you and shoving you backward into the fountain as an unfortunate event. Perhaps the first time it could have been. Perhaps the second was just bad luck. Although, by this point, he had shoved you into the pond every single time you were tasked with feeding the school’s koi fish—and you were not some idiot to miss the way Satoru would hold back a snicker as he offered you a hand out of the fountain.

“You okay? My bad, Himiko.” You see Suguru snort from behind him, his palm covering his mouth as Satoru tries to maintain a sorry excuse for a poker face. It was obvious he was calling you by the wrong name to piss you off, to really degrade you down into your place. But what could you do?

“My name is Y/N..” You mumble, refusing his hand with a lithe wave as you stand up with a light shiver, hugging your arms to your chest, consequently squishing your boobs together in a way that has Suguru's eyes wandering to your cleavage. Your uniform was utterly soaked, hugging tightly to your body, and you held back a frown. Honestly, half the reason why Satoru loved to torment you this way was for the view he’d get. Stupid little you wouldn’t even realize your pink lacy bra would be on full display when your thin blouse turned transparent from the water. For a moment, he’d forget to even reply to your correction, prying eyes hidden behind his sunglasses as they traced from your breasts down to the way your skirt hugged your ass, admiring the way that the water dripped from between your legs could be mistaken so lewdly without proper context.

“Oh, right. My bad, Y/N.” He’d play off, patting your head and picking up the packet of fish food from the edge of the fountain, placing it idly onto a stone.

You felt your heart burn, your hands tightening into fists. Satoru really loved seeing you hold back your insults, a smile spreading across his lips every time you had to pause and take a deep breath to regain your composure after his antics—and there was a reason why you never snapped at them, a reason why you always bit your tongue.

Satoru and Suguru weren’t just your average high school fuck boys. Everyone knew Satoru as the closest thing man could get to being god, attributed to his precociously stupid six eyes and infinite void. Even with his status as a student, he still surpassed the strength of his instructors, borderline toying with them during practice spars, directly toying with his seniors during missions, and mercilessly fucking with you at any moment he could get. His power, his status, the admiration, all this built his sky-high ego that fueled a stupid smirk that could never be wiped off his face. Everyone respected him. He was a newborn pillar of the Jujutsu world, after all. And how could little you stand up against that?

Meanwhile, Suguru stood as Satoru's right-hand man. Suguru was Satoru's 'angel' on his right shoulder, the one who would talk Satoru into a foreign concept of mercy. Despite that, the man still found a certain level of amusement at your disarray. Suguru held an excessive amount of reputation alongside his white-haired friend. With his stupid amount of cursed energy, paired with his cursed spirit manipulation, his ever-growing strength paralleled any of the faculty at Jujutsu Tech. Satoru and Suguru are the strongest. Thus, how could you bite back at their antics when even the teachers kissed the ground they walked upon, too fearful to scold them without fearing for the end of their careers.

It was the way that you bit your tongue against them that was the funniest part. Reactions, that's what they fed off of. Your reaction when you were shoved into the fountain, a yelp slipping past your lips before you'd be absolutely drenched, flailing to pull your skimpy skirt over your ass. The same skirt they bribed the teachers into giving you a size too small because 'the school ran out'. Your reaction when Satoru would accidentally slam his shoulder against yours, causing you to swear it was no big deal before you'd pout as you picked up your things. Satoru and Suguru found themselves entranced in the way you'd react to things: to stress, to annoyance, to teasing. They wanted to see more and more of your sweet little expressions.

Satoru and Suguru weren't just your average high school fuck boys, but you were beginning to lose your mind, you were beginning to not care of whatever reputation and power they had.

It didn't start off tame, but it still managed to rapidly skid downhill. Satoru and Suguru's antics kept progressing further and further, pushing your boundaries and dignity to the limit. At first, there was a minor jump from physical annoyances, such as 'accidental' shoulder bump, developing into more verbal degradations. Suguru would slip one of his cursed spirits into the door of the classroom, fumbling with the key pins until you were trapped inside.

"Oh, is poor little Y/N stuck?" Satoru would smile, his six eyes watching through the door as you would desperately toy with the knob, eyebrows furrowed. "Please, just open the door, Satoru! I have a club meeting today." You frowned, lips pouty as you looked to the door pleadingly, unknowing that Satoru was feeding off your helpless and frustrated expressions.

"Why don't you ask nicely?" A smirk spread across Satoru's lips, he could practically taste the humiliation rising inside you.

"What?" Your voice was trailed off, faint. You knew it was needless questioning for clarification as if you hadn't heard Satoru as clear as day.

"Beg us to open the door. Come on now, I know the weak usually have experience begging for their lives, use that skill in a different aspect. You're a smart girl, no?" Suguru chimed in. You felt the back of your neck burn with embarrassment. There was no way they were being serious, right? You glance to the clock. 16:52, your meeting was set to start in 8 minutes.

"Guys, please. Not today, I really need to get goi-"

"That doesn't sound like begging. Now does it, Suguru?" Satoru cut you off, his voice dismissive. Suguru smiled. "No, you're right there, Satoru." You fell silent. The minute hand ticked. 16:53.

"...please open the door." You said flatly, resting your forehead against the door with your hand weakly hanging off the knob. You were growing tired. Tired of their antics.

"You can do better than that." Satoru snorted. The door slightly sank towards you, likely as a result of Satoru leaning his back against it. You bit the inside of your cheek, gripping your hands into fists. You had the power to break down the door. To shove past them. To curse them out. It was becoming too much to hold back. You swear under your breath, sliding your palm down your face to recollect before you let out a deep sigh.

"...please, Satoru. Please, Suguru. I'm begging you to open the door." You tried to lace as much emotion into your speech, but it still held an undertone of absolute irritation that anyone wouldn't be able to miss. Still, the door clicked, sliding open. "See, that wasn't that hard, was it?" Satoru leaned over you, towering as he smirked, his hands dug deep into his pockets. You frown at him, pushing past him and Suguru as your shoes tap against the wooden floors to get to your meeting.

"Cute, wasn't that?"

"You're right on that."

You didn't think it could get worse. Although, the devil truly knew how to make things work. The devil being Satoru and Suguru.

Quickly, the two's antics would turn purely humiliating. They'd have you beg to be let out of locked closets, classrooms, bathrooms, and storage rooms, until it was having you kneel in front of them and apologizing for bumping into Satoru even if it was obviously your right of way. You'd keep your palms resting on your knees, eyebrows furrowed as you looked up to Satoru with your doe eyes, speaking a soft apology with shame rising heat to your cheeks. Your fingers would fiddle together, nails digging into your skin to try and push past the embarrassment. There was a brace of silence in the classroom after you mumbled your apology. Satoru stood tall in front of you, while Suguru leaned against the teacher's podium with his arms folded in front of his chest.

"You know, I don't think sorry is enough anymore." Your chin picks up to look at Suguru with widened eyes. "What..?"

"I think you're right," Satoru added, kneeling down to you as he took your chin between his fingers, redirecting your gaze to him. "You've been causing so much trouble for us, no? I believe you need a better way to make it up to us this time." Satoru's voice was silky, his head tilting as he spoke, eyes trailing down to your neck, collarbones, before resting his gaze on your breasts. You felt confused, and for some reason, your heart began to sink down into your stomach. "How do I make it up to you?" You were hesitant, slow, your voice hiding back its quiver. Satoru smiled.

You choked out a sob, stifled by the fat cock nudging into the depths of your throat. Satoru's hand held your hair back tightly, your scalp burning as he carefully thrust into your face and used your hair as leverage. You blinked through a build of tears, hands weakly pushing against his thighs to try and tell him to let up, to not fuck his cock so deep into your face. With a particularly forceful thrust, the tip of Satoru's dick punches into the back of your throat, your esophagus contracting as you gagged. Satoru held you firmly in place, and tears began to fill into the corners of your eyes.

"Fuck, just like that, pretty girl." Satoru's breath was ragged, his eyebrows knit together as he looked down to you, pulling back before fucking another harsh thrust into the back of your throat. "Breathe through your nose, now. I can't have you passing out on me." Satoru guided you gently, yet the way he gripped your head and held you to bottom out contrasted greatly with his kind tone. It was a lot easier said than done, especially with how large his cock was, stretching your throat and causing a deep ache in your jaw. Satoru groaned when you swallowed, his head falling back as he closed his eyes. He began to pick up his pace, thrusting his hips while simultaneously pulling and pushing your head up and down him. He never failed to hit the back of your throat with each thrust, smiling when your two hands on his thighs would slowly grip him tighter, a silent way to beg for him to slow down. He never did.

Precum leaked from his tip, swathing against your tongue, salty with a lace of sweetness. He felt himself losing his mind. Satoru cursed under his breath. Why hadn't they done this earlier? How could they have let such a perfect little thing like you slip past their gaze all these years? He watched as you turned your gaze up to him, locking eyes. Your mouth was stuffed full of him, tears welled up in your eyes before they ran down your pretty face. This, this was it. This is what he and Suguru really needed. Throughout their years, he and Suguru had had their way with many dumb, pretty doormats just like you. But as Satoru starts fucking your mouth, heavy breaths falling past his lips as his balls began to slap against your chin, he could tell that your holes were going to be the best they'll ever fuck. You shut your eyes tightly, looking up to him pleadingly with him to give you a break, to let you breathe even just for a little bit. He could tell you've never done anything like this before, or at the very least, never with a cock as large as his. Your innocence was only driving him even more mad, having him relish in the way that he and Suguru would be the first ones to break you in. To use you. To fuck all your holes. Satoru's eyes traced down to your throat, watching the outline of his cock bulge in your neck and a build-up of your saliva drip down from your chin onto your clothed tits.

"Fuck... Eyes on me." His eyebrows knit together, voice airy. With one hand still gripping roughly in your hair, his other reaches down to your throat. His palm wraps around the entirety of your neck easily. You're so small compared to him. Like a dumb little lamb that's wandered too far into the woods, too far into a lion's den. He gives your neck a light squeeze when he bottoms out, hearing you gag and your throat tightening around his cock in response. Once he notices your hands practically scratching down his thighs, he builds up the restraint to give you a break, pulling his cock out of your mouth with a grunt. You gasp, coughs and choked heaves of air borrowing through as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Maybe that was enough, you thought. Maybe now, they'd leave you alone, your dignity bruised and purity shattered.

Much to your dismay, Suguru unbuckled his pants, walking towards you slowly. You look at him with wide eyes.

"W-Wait, I don't—"

"Don't what?" Suguru cut you off, lightly tapping the tip of his cock against your cheek with one hand, his other hand pushing his hair out of his pretty face. Your lips quiver, and you turn your face away from him.

"I don't want to do this anymore..." You looked down to the floor, your hands fiddling together nervously while you knelt before him. Suguru clicked his tongue, his fingers running through your hair gently, tucking loose strands behind your ear.

"You really think we care?" You look up to him slowly. His eyes were half-lidded as they stared down into you, cold. He felt like another person. Many times Suguru would be the one to hold Satoru back, Suguru would be the one who kept you just a little bit safer. Between the two, you'd pick him. Suguru seemed kinder. Yet, you realized your mistake soon enough. Your heart sinks into your stomach. Suguru's grip tightened upon your scalp, he looked irritated.

"When are you going to drop the act?" He pushed your head back, craning your neck to look directly up to him, holding you firmly in place, like a dog being punished to stay still and look to his owner from the ground.

"What..?" You felt a sense of dread sink about you. Suddenly, Suguru lets go of your scalp, grabbing onto your neck and manhandling you into Satoru's lap. Satoru is sitting upon the teacher's desk, with your back against his chest, flush upon his lap. You choke, struggling, hands trying to push and pull at the wrist that kept air keenly out your throat. Suguru signals to Satoru, and Satoru's hand replaces Suguru's on your neck, holding you scarily still. You felt trapped. Small. Vulnerable. Sugur's large hands hooked beneath your thighs, pushing your knees flush against your shoulders before Suguru knelt in front of you. Your skirt pooled around your midriff, and Suguru traced his fingers idly from your clit down to your hole through the fabric of your panties.

"I'll make a deal with you," Suguru's eyes flickered to your face, his gaze sharp as he tilted his head. The view was stomach-churning. Seeing one of the pillars of the Jujutsu World, knelt between your thighs as he played with your cunt through your underwear, just didn't look right. Suguru hooks his middle finger into the side of your underwear. "If I check your pussy and it's not wet, Satoru and I will leave you alone. Does that sound okay?"

"That's not—"

Satoru cuts you off. "I think that sounds like a great deal." Satoru laughs. Suguru hums, pushing your underwear to the side and leaning towards your cunt with a curious look. You writhe, struggling against Satoru's hold on your neck. His large hand gives a warning squeeze.

"Wet pussy never lies, does it?" Suguru chimes, you choke out a panicked moan when his finger probes against your hole, his middle and pointer finger spreading your labia with a V. His other hand slips into his pocket, pulling out his phone and snapping a picture.

"Stop—"

Suguru flips his phone screen towards you and Satoru, your pussy on full view. "What do you think, Satoru?"

"I think," Satoru speaks, "Y/N's body is a lot more honest than her mouth, hmm?" His breath hitches against your ear, you could practically feel him smiling against you.

"Please—ah!" You jolt when you felt cold air blown right against your hole. You squirm, clentching around nothing as your hips struggle and your breath writhes. Satoru groans a little in response, as your needless struggling has amounted to nothing but grinding against his clothed erection. Suguru laughs, leaning back in to gently suck onto your clit. You wretch out a moan, biting harshly into your cheek. Satoru begins to knead your breasts with two large hands, completely enveloping your chest with his palms, his mouth kissing and sucking deep marks of purple and blue into the side of your neck while he works his way to toy with your nipples.

Suguru begins to slowly lap at your clit, sucking onto your clit before his tongue swirls about it harshly. You shutter out a moan, your hands grabbing onto Satoru's wrist to hold on for dear life, your legs trembling and trying to close. Satoru clicks his tongue.

"We can't have you hiding from us, pretty girl. How can Suguru make you feel good then?" Suguru rests your legs onto his shoulders, his hands going to grip your hips, holding you firmly in place as he continues to suck and lick at your clit, his tongue working wonders and flicking against the bud skillfully. Your breath catches as a lump in your throat, head falling back into Satoru's chest. It's too much. It's too way too much. Tears well up in the corners of your eyes, and you try to push your legs against Suguru's shoulder to no avail.

"T-Too much—" Your voice is weak, shaky from the overstimulation. Satoru gently shushes into your ear. "You can be a big girl for us, can't you?" He hums, his hands grab your wrists and bunches them behind your back. You curl up, body stiffening, opening your eyes to see Suguru looking up at you, staring at you intently and you nearly become lost in his dark eyes.

Soon, you're dragged right back down to Earth when Suguru presses his middle finger against your hole, twisting it until it pushes past your walls, and the heel of his wrist bottoms out against the underside of your clit. You yelp, sharply sucking in a breath of air as Suguru redirects his gaze back to your cunt, humming as he laps up your clit, sloppily pressing the flat of his tongue and dragging upwards before moving his tongue side to side across your bud. Your wrists twist against Satoru's grip when Suguru works another finger inside your hole, stretching you out as he scissors deep inside of you, the pads of his fingers pressing against your g-spot.

Squelches mixed with your struggled moans fill the silence of the classroom, Suguru's tongue pulling away from your clit. With his fingers still inside of you, he stands up, grabbing your chin between his fingers as he leans in to kiss you. You squirm under his touch, closing your eyes tightly, trying to block out what's being forced onto your body. His kiss is full of passion, although it's completely devoid of the kindness and affection that couples usually display. It feels as though he's eating you alive, mouth hungrily enveloping with yours, his tongue pushing past your lips and tasting you completely, muffling all of your panicked sobs and moans. Suddenly, Suguru's fingers begin to pound into your cunt, the heel of his hand slapping against your puffy clit as he slams his fingers in and out of you repeatedly. You feel a knot begin to form in your womb, legs shaking and hips trying to wiggle away from the stimulation. Suguru doesn't slow down. His tongue lapping up into your mouth, teeth biting your lower lip so hard it bleeds as he quickens the pace on his fingers while they curl upwards once fully inside you. A tang of iron spills onto your tongue, and Suguru feels himself being driven halfway insane, drunk off the taste of your pussy, the taste of your mouth, your moans, and your struggled whines.

"I-It hurts." You cry, pussy burning from the stretch as his fingers remain relentless to your cunt. You feel like you're being split in two, and Suguru experimentally scissors inside of you, causing you to shiver and your hips to grind in Satoru's lap.

"I bet," Suguru says. "You're really tight. Relax, and let me in, pretty girl." Your thighs tremble, and Suguru continues to work his way at your cunt, letting go of your chin to rub circles into your clit. Your head falls back as your mouth drops into an O against Satoru's chest. The build-up of pleasure stacks tenfold over itself, completely coiling until it snaps. You cum hard. With a nasty squelch, your pussy clenches around Suguru's fingers tightly, writhing out broken moans as Suguru keeps his fingers deep inside you to curl and probe upwards against your g-spot while he leans back down to suck and tongue at your clit. You sob, his pace persistent and mean, bullying you past your orgasm into painful overwhelms of overstimulation. You feel as though your body is being thrown into overdrive, and your thighs are trembling upon Suguru's shoulders, wrists struggling to get out of Satoru's grip as he holds your arms firmly behind your back.

"Enough, S-Suguru, plea—ah! Too much..—!" You sob, Suguru's fingers continuing to curl and fuck into you, his tongue swishing around your puffy clit. You feel something deep in your pussy snap. You squirt onto his fingers with a scream, tears welling into your eyes as he slams his fingers into you until you're fucked dumb—thighs trembling, chest heaving, and back laid limp against Satoru's chest before he finally pulls his sloppy fingers out of you, his face completely drenched in your arousal.

"That was fuckin' hot." Satoru breathes out, letting go of your wrists and kissing your neck. Suguru licks his lips, relishing in your taste as he lightly slaps your clit, laughing when your eyes widen and your body jolts in response.

"Alright now, upsie daisy." Satoru grabs underneath your arms and pulls you off his lap. You stumble, legs much too weak to stand on your own so soon after your orgasm. Suguru catches you on his chest, peppering light kisses onto the top of your head, whispering sweet nothings on how good you did as he holds you up by your waist. Satoru comes up behind you, pushing your skirt over your ass and pulling off your panties until they pool loosely about your ankles. You sob, your hands moving back to push Satoru away by his hip when one of Satoru's large hands wraps about the entirety of your two wrists, pinning them behind you and arching your back until your ass is flush against his dick and the back of your head is against his shoulder. Satoru's free hand wraps around your neck, holding you in place as you squirm.

"Atta girl, don't be such a cry baby." Satoru kisses your shoulder, pulling his hips back slightly, fucking his cock between your thighs, grinding it against your puffy clit and pussy. You clench around nothing, knees gluing together and hips trying to push back against him desperately. You struggle, wrists squirming to free themselves out of Satoru's mean grip. You scream when one of Satoru's thrusts between your thighs causes the head of his dick to catch into your hole before sliding up to your clit. Suguru smiles at the sight, leaning against a desk in front of you and Satoru as he strokes his cock slowly. Satoru lets go of your neck, still holding you up by the wrists held behind your back, as he takes the base of his dick to press his tip against your hole.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" He muses, voice airy as he slides the head of his dick up and down from your hole to your clit. "No wonder you're so wet." He hums, kissing the side of your neck.

"Stop—oh!" Your voice dies in your throat when he sinks his fat cock into you and bottoms out completely in one thrust, your mouth falling open silent as your eyes widen from the pain. You try squirming away, and the moment you do, Satoru's free hand slides down to press his palm firmly against your womb.

"You feel me in there, pretty?" He muses, licking up the helix of your ear. You sob, trembling in response. You look down to make sure you haven't been split in half, seeing the way Satoru's hand nearly covers the entirety of your lower stomach, seeing a bulge in your tummy from his fat cock nestled deep inside you and against your cervix. Satoru can barely concentrate. He hasn't even begun moving, yet you're already squeezing him so good.

"Fuck... Just like that, baby." Satoru's breath is heavy against your ear, and he bites down on your shoulder to ground himself. You're a strangled mess. Writhing in his arms, your entire body trembling as broken pleas fall upon deaf ears the moment you cut yourself off with your own little moans. Satoru and Suguru can't help but glance at each other, smiling. Fuck, how could such a pretty little thing like you slip past them all these years?

Without warning, Satoru pulls back until only the tip remains inside, before he thrusts his hips forward and bottoms out into you, his hips pressed flush against your ass. You choke out a scream, just as Satoru's hand slaps against your mouth to muffle you.

"Oh common, it wasn't that bad, mm?" Satoru's index and middle fingers push past your lips, swirling about your tongue. "Don't be so loud, unless you want the whole school to know?" Your heart sinks to your stomach, and you swallow, shutting your eyes tightly as you weakly shake your head in response.

"Maybe she really is that dirty of a girl, we'll never know until we try." Suguru muses, pulling out a cigarette from his pants pockets along with those fancy butane lighters with a stupidly long, purple-colored flame. He lights it idly between his long fingers, watching you furrow your eyebrows as the first puff of smoke is blown your way.

"We'd have to start off easy though, she's so sensitive she might die on the spot if we just fuck her in front of a crowd," Satoru replied, slowly pulling his cock out to the tip before sinking back in harshly. You can't even understand what they're saying, Satoru's hand completely shutting you up, his fingers fucking your mouth while his dick has you completely filled to the brim. You feel as though your brain is stupidly empty, overfilled with pain, laced with what you refuse to believe is absolute pleasure. It's too much. The feeling of his fingers in your mouth, against your tongue, his cock dragging against your walls. It's too much. Way too much, and yet Satoru has barely even begun moving.

"Should we start it off with a couple cursed spirits as our audience?" Suguru chimes, head leaning back as the nicotine seems to take its hit. "Nah, that's boring. How about...ah, I know!" Satoru sounds much too cheerful, when he suddenly pulls out to the tip and slams back into you once again. You yelp, muffled sobs passing through the fingers in your mouth as you struggle with your hands pinned behind your back. You moan aimlessly, forced up on your tippy toes to keep taking his dick due to how tall Satoru is compared to you.

"S-Sato—ru! P-Please stop..." A particularly hard thrust stutters you, drowned out by the sounds of him as he begins to pound into your cunt. Perverted squelches drip arousal down your thighs, wetting Satoru's dick, and allowing him to fuck you faster, to fuck you harder. Your legs feel tingly, your clit a puffy, overstimulated mess when Satoru removes the digits in your mouth and uses your own spit to rub circles onto your clit.

"Mmm, how about Nanami?" Suguru suggests. "Fuck her in front of that blonde?" Your heart sinks.

"Oh! That's a good ide- hmm?" Satoru laughs darkly, continuing you fuck into you, his grip on your wrists as relentless as the cock fucking up against your cervix. "God, you fucking clenched around me when Suguru said that. What a dirty slut." Satoru's voice is dark, amused, and even without looking at him, you can bet his usually perfectly kept hair is messy and his face is flushed. He sounds pussydrunk, and his pace begins to stagger.

"No way Mr. Limitless is done already?" Suguru snorts, Satoru scoffs in response. "When you get your turn, let's see how long you last." Satoru rolls his eyes. Satoru becomes annoyed at Suguru's tease, wanting to prove his best friend wrong. And so, he bends you over the teacher's desk, your tits squished against the cold wooden surface as he grabs your hips with both hands, fucking into you like there's no tomorrow. You yelp, eyes rolling to the back of your head, back arching as you held onto the edges of the desk to soften the recoil Satoru's thrusts were causing to your body. He was so big. Both his dick and his stature. As Satoru leaned over you, pressing his chest against your back as he furthered his markings of hickeys and bites upon your shoulder and neck, you felt as though you were cornered, sandwiched with no way to escape. Satoru fucked into you nonstop, and you swear if he kept up his thrusts he would eventually push right into your cervix and fuck his precum into your womb.

You tightened your hands into fists, sobbing in response to a particularly brutal thrust that fucked you so hard you swear you felt it in your stomach. You haven't been pleading for a while now, your moans cutting off your speech completely, Satoru's dick fucking you too dumb to even know what was going on. Where were you again? What time was it? All of your questions would be fucked out of your mind from the drag of Satoru's cock against your walls alone, a vein catching against your velvety walls before he'd slam back into you with no regard to your pain, to your overstimulation, to your sensitivity. He fucked you mercilessly, like a little human fleshlight, as though Satoru wanted to mold your insides to perfectly fit his cock, to ruin you for any other man besides him and Suguru.

"Shit, you still with me?" Satoru asked, his voice low, breathing heavy. He moved your head to rest your cheek against the desk, and he laughed when he saw your fucked out face, eyes rolling back as he kept fucking into you even as he spoke, even as he was trying his best to hold off filling you up with his cum just to avoid Suguru's teasing if he came so soon. Satoru looked at your fucked out face. And although he felt himself fall in love with the view, he needed something new, something more. Sure, your cock drunk state was a view that engraved itself happily into his mind, but he wanted to completely use every part of you. To take all of your firsts as his own. Satoru's pace suddenly flaters, until it comes to a stop. Your chest is heaving, and you sniffle a little. Tears running from your eyes and down to the teacher's desk you were bent over and pinned down into. Satoru gestures to Suguru. Suguru digs into his pocket lazily, before throwing a small bottle to Satoru.

"It'll be a little cold, but don't worry, yeah?" Satoru mused. Even though he was giving you a warning, it was clear his tone held no sense of concern for you. Your eyes widened and hips jolted when you felt something cold and sticky fall onto your asshole. You were about to turn around, when one of Satoru's hands slammed your head back down to hold you flat against the desk.

"N-No! N-No way, stop!" You struggle violently, and Satoru grips your hair roughly, shutting you up through his aggression.

"Oh cool it. Someone would've fucked this pretty ass soon enough, be glad your first is me." Satoru laughs. He ignores your panic, taking his middle finger and swirling it around the rim of your asshole before he pushes it in gently. You scream, biting your bottom lip until you swore you could taste tangy iron. You shut your eyes tightly. This isn't happening. This isn't happening.

"Please...p-please I'm begging you... Stop—ah!" Satoru pays no mind to your pleas, thrusting his middle finger into your asshole slowly, curling the tip and wiggling inside you whenever he bottoms out. His fat cock is still stuffed in your cunt, cockwarming him as he preps your other hole.

"I'm being so kind, no? I'm not even moving and I'm prepping you too! Gosh, be a little grateful, Y/N." Satoru hums, his finger prodding and probing deep inside of you. You've never felt anything like this before, and it feels weird. You try to squirm, to buck your hips away, but you hear Satoru sigh in response, suddenly pulling his cock out to the tip and slamming his hips back into you.

"If you keep being ungrateful, I'll stop caring about you completely." He warns. You sob quietly in response, and the grip in your hair remains firm, pressing your cheek hard against the desk. Smoke from Suguru's cigarette permeates throughout the room, before he drops it onto the ground, stomping upon it and sweeping it up into a small trash can by the door. All you're left with is strangled whines, mewls, and tears that fall down your face, until Satoru works his ring finger into your ass as well. You sob at the stretch, clenching around him to try and push away at the foreign intrusion, yet all that seems to achieve is sucking his fingers deeper. Satoru deems you to be stretched out enough, beginning to pull his fingers out of your ass, before pushing them back in. You buck your hips. You don't know if you're trying to pull away or to the stimulation that's being forced onto your body.

You soon know it to be the prior.

Satoru pulls his hips back, slamming back into you as you yelp and sob in response. He begins to fuck into you while simultaneously fingering your ass at the same speed. Soon, Satoru picks it up. Although he's fucking your ass at a medium pace, the cock pressing against your cervix again and again returns to its previous pounding. You're back to sobbing, moaning aimlessly as you struggle pathetically from the overdrive. You swear you're seeing stars when Satoru adds a third finger into your ass, scissoring the three and curling his fingertips inside you, while the head of his cock presses firmly against your g-spot and cervix, dragging back and forth until your vision feels as though it's fading away. You don't know how long it goes for, but soon, Satoru's three fingers are simply buried into your ass as he focuses all of his energy on fucking your sloppy cunt. His hand releases your head, running down the side of your body to catch your clit between his middle and index finger. You jolt, choking out a wonton cry as he begins to swirl your clit aggressively.

"Cum for me, f-fucking cum." Your body seizes up, stiffening as your eyes roll back and Satoru's cock punches against your cervix. Everything builds up. His cock brutally fucking into you, his fingers pinching and circling your clit, and the three fingers in your ass that begin to pick up their movements as they curl deep inside you. You cum hard, sobbing as your pussy and asshole clench around him, spasming and your legs trembling. If it weren't for the desk you were bent over, you would've fallen completely into the floor, collapsed like an empty fuck doll. Yet you weren't done, not until they were. Satoru fucks you through your orgasm.

"C-Cumming, f-fuck! S-Satoru, too much—AH!" Satoru continues to finger your ass, dick pummeling into you and his pace becoming unsteady when he slams back into you for one last time, tip pressed hard against your cervix before you feel hot spruts of cum filling you completely. Satoru thrusts into you slowly to ride out his high, heavy breaths and degrations falling past his lips.

"F-Fuck, such a fucking whore, huh? Shit..." Satoru leaned over you, chest pressed against your back as he regained his breath before pulling out. You felt a spurt of cum slide down your inner thighs, dripping down from your pussy, and you clenched around nothing. Head empty, fucked dumb, fucked senseless. You didn't even register when large hands pulled you off the desk. You barely even reacted when you were manhandled down to straddle Suguru on the floor.

"Please...enough..." Your voice was weak, your entire body sore and trembling lightly. Suguru shushes you gently, holding the back of your head and cradling you so affectionately. "Shh, we'll take care of you. Wanna feel good, hmm?" Suguru whispered, licking up your neck. You sob in response, knowing that no matter how much you tried to fight them, they wouldn't let you go until they had their fun. Suguru grabs your hips firmly, holding your ass up as he pushes his cock into your cunt. You choke out a moan, grabbing onto his shoulders as your head fell against his chest. You simply cried as he began to fuck you. You thought Satoru surely had molded you into the shape of his cock enough to numb the painful stretch, but you never expected Suguru to be so much thicker. You gripped onto his shoulders tightly, his shirt bunching up beneath your fingers as your desperate cries mixed in with confused little moans as you could only take his fat cock that punched your cervix so hard you felt as though your insides would be scrambled and bruised the next day.

"F-Fuck, n-no more—" You whimpered. Suguru paid you no mind, holding you painfully, his fingers digging into the plush of your hips as he pounded into you with deep grunts. Suddenly, you felt another presence from behind you. Satoru knelt behind you, his cockhead sliding up and down your asshole. You panicked, trying to push your hips away, but Suguru's grip remained bruising. Satoru laughed at your pathetic attempt of squirming away, slapping your ass hard, a sting ghosting where his hand had hit.

"O-Ouch—! Ah!" You yelped in response, and Satoru's hands replaced Suguru's grip on your hips. You were about to open your mouth to protest once more, but Suguru's hands cupped your face and pulled you into a deep, rough kiss. Your moans muffled into his mouth, a confused gasp cut off as his tongue slipped past your sultry lips, your eyes rolling into the backs of your head when Satoru slowly sunk his cock deep into your ass, while Suguru's pace was still unrelenting as he continued to fuck into you like a ragdoll, bruising your cervix and stretching you completely.

Soon, you were an absolute mess. Satoru and Suguru's paces were completely out of sync. Satoru fucked you rough, hard, and fast, his hips slapping against yours as your ass would recoil in response. He held you so firmly, holding no regard for your smaller body as he held you still with too much strength than needed, just to remind you of your place. Satoru moaned each time you'd clench around him, aka each time the tip of Suguru's cock would punch against your cervix once more. Suguru's pace was similarly rough, although he and Satoru would fuck you just out of sync, making sure that whenever Satoru had pulled out to the tip, Suguru's cock would be nestled deep inside of you—and whenever Suguru would pull out your cunt, Satoru would be slamming right back into you. You were nothing but a pretty little fleshlight for the two by now. The two men letting out a series of grunts and low moans as you use your body to their own pleasure, breaths heavy against your ears, deep marks of purple, blue, and bites scattered across your neck, shoulders, upper back, waist, inner thighs. You were completely defiled by them. And fuck, how did they love that. Like a twisted sense of being the first to have something all to themselves, to ruin it for anyone else who wanted to try having a taste.

Your thoughts were completely gone by now, filled with nothing but a cycle: a numb buzz of pleasure that would wind in your womb, a climax to your orgasm, getting fucked right through it, rinse and repeat. How many times has it been? How many times have you cum? You feel as though they have been pounding you for hours, and you shut your eyes tightly, thighs trembling when the coil in your stomach begins to build up once more as Suguru's cock fucked into your cervix, as Satoru's dick pounded into your ass.

"C-Cumming, 'm gonna c-cum..." Your voice was strained, slurred, intoxicated. Satoru laughed from behind you, and Suguru began to circle at your overstimulated clit once more.

"Put on a show."

"Cum then."

You came hard, your grip on Suguru's shoulders tight as you moaned loudly. Suguru stuttered. "F-Fuck, gonna fill you up...make you mine." He rasped, slamming into you one final time before he came deep, hot cum filling you up completely, his dick slowing down his pace to properly jut its final ropes of cum deep into your cunt. Satoru's pace faltered as well, before he gave one harsh thrust that had you recoil forward, pressing your cheek harder against Suguru's chest with a yelp as Satoru bottomed out and filled your ass with his hot cum.

The classroom was quiet. Quiet as opposed to the three mix of heavy breaths, your three bodies tangled together, two cocks stuffing you impossibly full. Satoru was the first to pull out, sitting back on his heels as he pushed his hair back. Suguru grabbed the underside of your armpits firmly, lifting you up and off his dick, a mix of his and Satoru's cum dripping out and onto his abs. Suguru stands up, pulling you up to lay you gently on a table as he leans down to your sloppy cunt. You're completely dazed, and you can only muster a pathetic jolt and whine as Suguru begins to lick your cunt slowly. Your eyes zone out and only occasional whimpers slip past your lips. He laps your pussy up clean, holding your hips firmly as he swirls his tongue around your clit slowly, as though to apologize for being so rough with you. Suguru pulls away momentarily, a string of saliva connecting him to your cunt. His hand slides up the underside of your thighs, pushing your knees into your chest with one hand as he leans down to your ass. His tongue rims you gingerly, and you moan quietly, sobbing so weakly from the final drive of overstimulation.

Once both your holes are clean, Suguru and Satoru gather up your uniform, stealing your panties but being kind enough to fix your uniform. Satoru pulls you up, holding you bridal style as you close your eyes, drifting off to sleep. Suguru stands in front of Satoru, his face still flushed and breath still heaving.

"Should we get plan b?"

"Why the hell would we do that?"

You're watching...

© Peached TV 2023

[crushmeeren]

ᝰ KATSUKI’S NSFW ALPHABET .ᐟ

̽ ⋆ ﹒♡﹒ GOD…. The epilogue is KILLIN ME!!!!! I had to write the brain rot out of my brain.

‣ ‣ cw ; spanking, choking, lil’ bit of degradation — vanilla otherwise.

master list ‣ ‣ @i-the-fluffo

ᝰ A ‣ ‣ AFTERCARE { ༝༝ what’s katsuki like after sex? ༝༝ }

Often, sex ends with you becoming dead to the world, falling asleep in record time because Katsuki’s fucked out all your stress. Fortunately, or somewhat unfortunately for you, Katsuki is unable to leave things unclean. He downright refuses to relax.

So even when you’ve started to doze off, harsh panting turning steady and mellow, Katsuki runs his fingers through your hair, presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and demands you “get the hell up pillow princess, we aren’t sleepin’ in this fuckin’ mess.”

On the rare occasion he’s able to convince you to join him in the shower, he’ll ask if you want him to wash your hair. Sometimes, if you aren’t itching to be back in bed, you’ll say yes.

Katsuki also has a habit of positioning you so the spray of hot water will hit your back. Strong arms will wind around your shoulders, hugging you close to his chest, and every inch of you will keep warm.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ B ‣ ‣ BODY PART { ༝༝ katsuki’s favorite ༝༝ }

I can’t seem to shake the idea that Katsuki is an ass man.

He finds reasons for his hands to be on your ass no matter what. Cooking? He’s behind you, grabbing a handful and squeezing. At the gym? He’s spotting you while you do squats, smacking you every time you finish a set. When you have to get up from the couch after the fourth episode you’ve binged because you need to pee? Yeah, he’s there too. “Helping” you by shoving a hand up the back of your shorts to palm the curve of your ass and lever you up.

Don’t even get me started about the hand prints he leaves during sex.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ C ‣ ‣ CUM { ༝༝ where katsuki likes to cum ༝༝ }

Katsuki loves when the tight heat of your pussy locks onto his cock and refuses to free him, sucking him in like it’s begging to be stuffed full. It destroys his determination to pull out every time.

If he’s not burying himself inside you, he’s keeping a steady pace until his balls draw up tight, until his stomach clenches in warning, before he slips free, pumping his cock and covering your ass with glossy threads.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ E ‣ ‣ EXPERIENCE { ༝༝ how much does katsuki have? ༝༝ }

Katsuki’s dipped his toe into the water a few times, so to speak. No, he’s not one to sleep around, but you met him in his mid to late twenties. He’s had time to venture out and explore, as most people in that phase of their life do.

How else do you think he got toe curling pussy eating skills?

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ F ‣ ‣ FAVORITE POSITION { ༝༝ katsuki’s favorite ༝༝ }

Katsuki’s under a spell fucking you from behind. The first snap of his hips jiggles your ass and it leaves him slackjawed, fingers digging into your squishy hips to use as leverage while he yanks you back to meet each heavy thrust thereafter.

The curve of your spine, the clench of the muscles in your upper back, and the fact that the side profile of your fucked out expression is on display when it’s not shoved into the sheets all fill him with pride. It soothes the hidden primal urge in his brain.

To Katsuki, it’s a victory high when he pushes all the right buttons to shred your voice and shake your thighs while your ass is in the air.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ H ‣ ‣ HAIR { ༝༝ does katsuki shave or care? ༝༝ }

Katsuki does shave. Not bald, because it’s odd to him when there’s no hair. A small nestle of blonde curls is all that remains above the base of his cock. Sometimes, when you sneak your hand past the waistband of his briefs, and your fingers tease through the coarse hair, his brain starts to buzz.

In the case of whether or not he cares if you shave, his opinion can be summarized down to this — he does not give a single shit. He cares more that you do what’s comfortable for you rather than what you think he wants.

Whether your pussy looks like a hairless cat or a lions mane, you’ll scream his name.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ I ‣ ‣ INTIMACY { ༝༝ is katsuki romantic? ༝༝ }

Sometimes.

There are times when you need Katsuki to fuck you silly. To push into you so hard it bruises your hips, hands braced on the wall above your head to keep yourself from a concussion.

Other times, his fingers will search for yours and tangle together, ending with them pinned to the mattress. Katsuki’s face will bury itself into your throat, warm breath fanning your neck until it’s damp as his hips flex with the effort of making love to you. The tip of his cock slides across your g-spot and your back arches, tits pressing into his chest. Katsuki’s moan splinters, and he’ll chant “I love you, love you so fuckin’ much,” until your knuckles turn white.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ J ‣ ‣ JERKING OFF { ༝༝ does katsuki jerk off? ༝༝ }

Once, maybe twice a week, in the shower, he’ll curl his fingers around his cock. You’re the star of his show, whether you’re there in reality or not.

Eyes closed, Katsuki will brace a hand on the wall and remember the time you jerked him off in the shower. The memory of hot water on his chest, your soapy tits pressed against his back, and how he met each drag of your hand with a roll of his hips. It’s one of his favorites.

Usually he tries to avoid a mess, so he doesn’t touch himself in bed often. But when he does, he stares at the collection of filthy pictures you’ve sent him. Maybe a video of you sucking his cock, if you felt generous enough to allow him to record one.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ K ‣ ‣ KINK { ༝༝ katsuki’s kinks ༝༝ }

Spanking you, admiring your skin as it swells and burns hot to the touch, always sends heat sinking through Katsuki’s belly and straight to his cock. He wouldn’t do it if you didn’t squirm and cry out, pressing your ass into him to silently ask for more.

Along with spanking, Katsuki will flatten you to the mattress, haul a leg over his shoulder, and latch his fingers around your throat. The feel of your pussy fluttering, reacting as soon as he restricts your air flow, shoots adrenaline down his spine.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ L ‣ ‣ LOCATION { ༝༝ where katsuki likes to fuck ༝༝ }

Your bed is preferred. It’s big, comfortable, affording you the privacy Katsuki demands. He’d chew off his own arm before another person witnesses you unravel for him.

Other than that, he leaves the decision to you. As long as there’s some sort of solitude, and it’s not icky, Katsuki’s more or less fine with it.

You’ll get an earful if he isn’t.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ O ‣ ‣ ORAL { ༝༝ katsuki’s thoughts on oral ༝༝ }

Straddling his face, so slick that he laps at your pussy like an ice cream cone, tongue sliding over your tender clit again and again — that’s what curls pleasure low in Katsuki’s pelvis. Giving him the surreal sensation that he could cum from the slightest brush of his fingers.

When it’s reversed, and you’re the one with the aching jaw and swollen lips, Katsuki’s calloused palm will cup your jaw, thumb running along the bone underneath your eye, and his hips will thrust slowly to meet the fluid motion of your bobbing head. Eventually, Katsuki’s patience will run out, and you’ll be in his lap before he cums.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ Q ‣ ‣ QUICKIES { ༝༝ katsuki and quickies ༝༝ }

Katsuki prefers savoring the moment, so quickies aren’t his favorite. He will though, if you’re both pent up and it’s all the time you have.

It’s not a quickie by definition, but Katsuki enjoys waking you up in the middle of the night, squeezing between your legs and slipping his dick into your sleep soft body to seal you as one. Clinging to him with heavy limbs, moaning in his ear about how good he feels, he brings you both over the edge in no time.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ S ‣ ‣ STAMINA { ༝༝ what’s katsuki’s stamina like? ༝༝ }

Katsuki’s ego would bruise if his stamina was anything less than stellar. To be fair, he’s trained long days and even longer nights to achieve it. Repeatedly working himself to the bone for even an ounce of progress.

But, you make him weak. Katsuki’s man enough to admit there are times when his pleasure wells up so hot, so fast, that the iron grip on his control slips. He can’t help but suck in a sharp breath between his teeth, snap his hips forward and finish inside you.

The saving grace is that he can go multiple rounds without begging for too much of his stamina.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ T ‣ ‣ TEASE { ༝༝ does katsuki like to tease you? ༝༝ }

Teasing you until you’re flustered, until your expression is cracked with pleasure, it’s an achievement in Katsuki’s mind. In between the slick rejoining of your hips, when he can catch his breath, he’ll open his mouth and mutter with a rich, low tone “So fuckin’ needy for my cock, yeah? Can’t even go a day without it, you spoiled rotten princess.”

You love to hear Katsuki belongs to you, only you, and he uses that to his advantage to turn you to mush. When he eats you out, he moans, pulling back to stare at you with heavy lidded eyes, teasing you with “You love that I’m a fuckin’ slut for your pussy, don’t you?” The words sink into your skin, a flash of heat slicing through your belly, and the nod of your head is jerky. A few more swipes of his tongue and you’re cumming.

[joeyfranchise]

cuz you know that’s it’s delicate

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: what happens when joe’s teammate slips a joke about your size difference and it sends you spiraling? being in love with joe since college has been tough but what happens when he starts figuring it out and trying to unravel you more?

warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, MDNI. heaaaavy size kink, joe being a smartass should be it’s own warning, language, p in v, fingering, oral (f. receiving), roughness. probably more? this one was so much fun, plzzz stick around til the end. 🤭

word count: 3.1k!

note: heyyy everyone! my first joey smut 🤭 i hope y’all love it and again MDNI!! (shoutout to my boo @slimshiesty, hate me later and that stray ball part is rotting in my brain, so i snuck a lil of it in here as an ode to you. ily bbg. 💗) (also another taylor swift title bc i fr couldn’t think of anything else plus i used it a bit.. i swear i’m not trying to steal anyones thing i love all the joey swifties)

tags: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 (plz message me or send an ask to be added!) part 2

sexual frustration has to be one of the worst things in the world. sexual frustration at the hands of your best friend, however, takes the cake.

it started at a party two weeks ago when you were invited out by joe, the star nfl quarterback, certified dweeb, and your very best friend all wrapped into one.

flashback

you were sitting around with joe and some of his teammates, listening in on their conversations and people watching the rest of the time. it was easiest for you to hang out with joe and ja’marr since you knew them from college, but the rest of their teammates and their teammates partners were really cool too, and all so welcoming to you.

everyone was laughing and joking, having a laid back time, picking on each other for random things. that was, until, someone mentioned how funny it was to see you standing next to joe, being that he was well over a foot taller than you.

“what? how’s it funny?” joe asked, glancing between you and his teammate. “because you make her look so tiny! like a little doll. get up and stand next to each other.”

you were reluctant to move from your seat, hating where this was leading. it was already hard enough having feelings for your best friend over the span of a few years, but this was crossing dangerous territory. kink territory.

for you, there was something about how much bigger than you joe was. he towered over you. his body was lean but built with thick muscles. he could quite literally pick you up and sling you around like a rag-doll. (and honestly if he did, you’d thank him.)

you hoped his teammate pointing out your size difference wouldn’t be turned into a big deal, but once joe pulled you out of your chair to stand next to him, it was like the gates of hell opened.

you stood side by side, your head barely even reaching his armpit. everyone around the table laughed, including joe. “damn, i guess i never really focused on how little you are, y/n.” joe laughed, and placed his forearm on top of your head like an armrest.

alarms went off in your head. ABORT MISSION. ABORT MISSION.

you cleared your throat quickly, and came to your senses, shoving joe off before getting back into your seat. “maybe i’m not small, maybe you’re just a freakishly large man.” you remark, trying to keep your voice even.

“nah,” he replied, sitting down next to you again, “you’re sooooo tiny.” he laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. you flipped him the finger. “fuck you big bird.” you snarked before downing the rest of your drink. god knows you need it. you hoped that your pink cheeks would be chalked up to the alcohol and that nobody else had caught on.

the next instance came a few days later, on a sunday, and it was much worse than the first. so, so much worse.

flashback to sunday

you came to the bengals’ home stadium to watch their game, and since it was early you figured you’d go down to the field to say hi to joe and some of your other friends on the team.

you made it down and waved hi to ja’marr, tee and sam before making your way to joe. he spotted you and smiled, walking in your direction to meet you halfway.

you decided on wearing one of his jerseys and a pair of jeans, something simple and comfortable. as soon as he made it to you, the first thing he did was look you up and down and then pick up the sleeve of the jersey before chuckling.

“damn, this thing is swallowing you!” he comments. you playfully smack at his arm. “shut up, joey.”

“it’s cute, though. you look nice. are you excited for the game?”

you don’t give yourself much time to process that “cute” comment. wtf does that even mean? who cares. ABORT MISSION.

“of course i’m excited! i can’t wait to watch you guys kick some ass today—“

your sentence is cut off abruptly as joe grabs you and lifts you, turning your bodies so his back is now facing the opposite direction on the field. his grip on you is so tight that your chest is pressed into his stomach. you look up at his face, his expression a mix between anger and concern. you can feel your cheeks heat up and your eyes widen in disbelief.

“um, joe, you’re bear hugging the hell out of me right now. wanna put me down and explain what happened?”

he lets you down gently, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “stray ball was coming right at you. i didn’t want it to hit you, it would’ve hurt you pretty bad.”

you reach a hand up and pat his chest, feeling the thick muscles. “thank you!” you respond, once again monitoring your tone. “i’m gonna head up and talk to everyone, ok?” you ask, already moving to leave. “yeah, ok.” joe says, focusing his attention on the ground. you can tell he’s contemplating something, but you don’t want to ask. you want to get out of there as quickly as possible.

the final instance came a few days later when you went to joe’s house just to hang out and have dinner.

flashback to wednesday night

you park your car in joe’s garage and step out, tucking your phone and keys in your pocket before heading up the stairs. before you make it to the door, joe’s already opening it and waiting in the doorway.

“hi bub!” you call, pushing past him and stepping inside, kicking off your shoes by the door. he greets you back sweetly and the two of you go sit on barstools in the kitchen, just catching up on things that have gone on this week. you rant to joe about your job and he listens intently, offering what advice he can.

he rants back to you about things going on with the team, and frustrations he’s having on the field. you try to return the favor and offer him some advice, but you know you aren’t of too much help. joe appreciates it regardless.

soon after your food arrives, you find yourselves in the living room, sitting on the couch side by side as a movie plays. you and joe always loved just being around each other, you had so deep of a connection that oftentimes words didn’t need to be shared at all.

you both enjoyed those moments.

you felt yourself starting to doze off until joe laughed at something in the movie, the sound waking you a bit.

“oh, sorry. you can go to sleep.” he whispers, pulling you into his side and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. you appreciate his warmth and you rub your head on his shoulder as you get comfy. you hear joe chuckle.

“what’s funny?” you mumble, your eyes still closed. “it’s like i’m hyper-aware now of how small you are next to me. it’s so cute.”

you make no outward moves or sounds, but inside you are screaming. yelling. this is the worst one yet.

you don’t know it yet, but joe’s figured it out. he’s seen you get flustered three times now over these comments, and he knows something is going on in your brain when they’re said. he isn’t aware if you have feelings for him like he does for you, but he knows you liked when he picked you up so easily on the field the other day.

it was effortless to him, despite what you might think of yourself.

you sit next to him in silence, eyes still closed, trying to control your breathing. just try to fall asleep again you tell yourself, hoping that joe has no idea. if you only knew.

when you wake in the morning, you’re still snuggled on the couch with him as the soft morning light shines gold around the living room. you shake him awake.

“joey, i gotta get going. i need to go home and get ready for work and you have thursday practice.”

he pulls you in closer for a moment, hugging you bye, and then wishes you a good day at work. you bolt out the door and to your car as fast as you can, heading home to wash the previous day away in the shower.

end of flashbacks

so, this is where you are now.

it’s been almost a week since you’ve talked to joe, avoiding him because you aren’t sure what to say or do. part of you knows he has something figured out, but you don’t know what or how much.

you’re terrified to let him in on your feelings, what’s going on in your head, because you’re delicate and you don’t want to ruin something that has always been there for you.

the other part of you knows you have to tell him, you need to tell him. you love him, you lust after him. the comments that keep being made about your sizes are driving you to the point of insanity that nothing will fix it unless joe manhandles you as rough as you can take it and he fucks it out of you.

you’re pretty sure your vibrator is gonna be on its last leg soon.

alright, i gotta call him. i gotta get this over with.

you grab your phone off the kitchen counter and dial his number, listening to it ring for a few moments.

“hello?” he finally answers, sounding a bit upset.

“hey joey. sorry i haven’t been talking to you this week. i just— i think i need to talk to you about some stuff and.. would you mind coming over later?”

he says nothing for a moment, but you hear him blow out a long breath. “yeah, of course, y/n.” he finally says. “i can be over around 7?”

you check the clock on the stove, it reads 4:34pm.

“7 sounds great! see you then!” you say, hanging up quickly. now you play the waiting game.

all your chores are done, and you take a lovely everything shower to help calm your nerves, and you make sure to drink plenty of water and have a snack as you tell yourself affirmations.

it’s going to be okay, he’s my best friend. he will understand. he will still be my friend regardless, he’s always been there for me. if he rejects me, nothing will change that.

you sit on the couch and scroll your phone as you wait. there’s still just a bit over an hour before joey will arrive, so you waste time scrolling tiktok, cozy on the couch.

soon enough you hear the doorbell, and you jump off the couch to answer it, stepping aside to let joe in.

he sits on your couch, waiting for you to join him and start speaking. “joe, i, um.. i hav-“

he cuts you off. “you have feelings for me? you like it when people compare our sizes because it turns you on?” he smirks, leaning back on the couch, crossing his arms behind his head. he’s manspreading now, his thick thighs on full display. your mouth falls open for a moment.

“yeah. essentially exactly that.” you finally reply.

“so what are we gonna do about that?” he questions, pulling you into his lap. you place your hands on his chest instinctively, and before you know what’s happening he‘s pulling you in for a heated kiss.

his lips are soft against yours and he gently prods at your bottom lip, sliding his tongue past as you open it. he tastes like mint, it’s intoxicating you. one minute his large hands are splayed over your back holding you to him, the next he’s lifting you off the couch by grabbing underneath your armpits and carrying you down the hall, roughly body-slamming you on the bed.

“dude, save the UFC moves for ja’marr!” you groan, sucking in a large breath. joe jumps on the bed, caging you in by placing his knees on either side of your hips and his hands next to your head.

“no, i don’t think so.” he smirks, leaning in closer until your noses are nearly touching. you felt your cheeks heating up at his close proximity, and his eye-contact with you was starting to feel intimidating, even though you had just been sharing such a passionate kiss. you hated that you could feel your wetness soaking through your panties just from him trying to wrestle you.

he blows gently on your face and you shove at him. he laughs you off and leans even closer, pressing the tip of his nose to yours before moving away and leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“this would be a lot easier if you’d just admit that you want me to manhandle you. you want me to go rough, right?” he teases. you’ve had enough of his smugness. you grab the back of his neck and pull him in for another kiss, tugging at his hair and nipping his bottom lip. he groans into you. he stands from the bed, picking you up again, carrying you across the room before roughly slamming your body against the wall.

you let out a strangled moan, loving the feeling of him using all his strength on you.

“can i take your shorts off?” he asks, looking into your eyes.

“fuck yes, please.” you breathe out, exhilarated.

joe yanks your shorts and panties down your legs in one swift motion, kneeling down in front of you. he’s able to keep your body held up and pressed against the wall. he looks up at you with questioning eyes, making sure this is okay. you give him a soft nod in response.

he leans in and throws one of your legs over his shoulder. he starts by pressing the smallest kiss to your clit, and then licks a slow, languid stripe up your core. you hiss, your body arching off the wall at the new sensation. when you look down, you find him looking up at you, his beautiful blue eyes trained on your face.

your eyes roll back in your head as he continues his ministrations. you feel the hand that isn’t holding you against the wall rubbing circles on your inner thigh before joe slowly slips a finger into you.

you quickly approach your orgasm, your stomach tight with anticipation. joe doesn’t let up, working you there until your body feels like it’s being dunked into warm bath water, the feeling covering you from head to toe. it takes you a minute to regain your sense of self. joe pulls his fingers from your core and removes your leg from his shoulder, standing back up before lifting you so your legs are around his waist.

you waste no time pulling him in for a kiss. “holy shit, joey!” you moan, baffled at what just happened. he smirks into your kiss.

for the second time, you’re thrown onto the bed. you sit up, propped on your elbows as you watch joe stalk closer, his erection very obvious in his shorts. he pulls his shirt over his head and you do the same, unclasping your bra just after so that you’re completely bare for him.

you chalk your forwardness up to being comfortable with him, normally you wouldn’t have the confidence to act this way. neither would joe, actually, but you shrug it off.

you don’t remember seeing him strip his shorts off or climb on top of you, but you know you’re kissing him again. you can’t get over how good his lips feel. one of his hands traces your curves, he runs his fingers along your body until his large hand is cupping your breast.

he moves his kisses to your neck and you gasp, reveling in the feeling of him kissing and touching you softly and sweetly.

you look down at his throbbing cock and suddenly you feel intimidated. joe hears you gasp. he lets out a soft laugh.

“don’t talk a big game and then act scared of it, baby.” he teases, pressing light kisses to your cheeks. you swallow thickly.

joe reaches down and strokes himself, spitting on his hand to slick himself up. he looks at you once again for confirmation, and you nod to him. he helps you get comfortable beneath him, positioning your legs around his waist as he pushes his tip in. you suck in a harsh breath.

it stings, but it isn’t the worst thing. he moves against you slowly, sliding in inch by inch until he bottoms out. he looks down and you, your faces inches apart, and you giggle.

“what is it bub?” he asks, smiling softly. “they weren’t kidding calling you big dick joe.” you laugh out. joe laughs too.

after giving you a few minutes to adjust, he starts moving hips, rocking into yours slowly. you think this is what the peak of euphoria feels like.

he leans back down to kiss you, his hand finding your throat and squeezing ever so slightly. your back is arched, your chest pressed to his as your hands tangle through his hair. his hands move down, finding your hips and holding them down to the bed. you moan at the rough grip.

he starts going harder, his hips pistoning into yours as you continue kissing, both of you moaning out your pleasure.

“joey, i-i’m close.” you warn, your body covered in a sheen of sweat. you felt it again, you were so close to that warmth once again pulsing over your body.

until.

knock knock knock.

what was that? you thought. you tried to focus on joe but everything seemed to be slipping away.

then, there it was again. the knocking. and the shrill of your phone ringing.

you startled awake, sweat covering your body. you looked at your phone screen. 7:10pm. one missed call from joe.

you threw your throw blanket off, trying to gather your thoughts. what the fuck? what is happening?

you thought you’d just had the best fuck of your life, that everything would be okay with you and joe but… it was just a dream? you dozed off and you didn’t even know it.

“y/n, let me in!” you hear joe yell from the opposite side of the door. you’re panicking, your body is hot, your clothes are stuck to you. still, you get up and almost sprint to the door. you open it, taking in his appearance. just like your dream.

black shorts, black shirt. backwards cap.

“can i come in? are you okay?” he asks. you watch as he takes in your appearance. sweaty hair stuck to your neck, your eyes glazed over.

“um, yeah joe. i’m okay. come in.” you step aside, inviting him in, just like your dream. he sits down.

“so, what did you wanna talk about?” he asks. you sit down next to him, blowing out a long breath. this was gonna be a longggg conversation.

[teamatsumu]

purple and pink. (rafayel x reader)

summary: you and rafayel cover yourselves in paint and (redacted).

word count: 3450

warnings: porn without plot, smut, swearing, nsfw, mdni, fem!reader

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

a/n: my brain is rotting for this man so this is just self indulgent crap atp

You weren’t exactly an artistic person.

You just never indulged in art before. Of course, you admired the craft and thought it was extremely difficult to actually create meaningful art. But you didn’t think you were a particularly creative person, nor did you think you had an eye for such stuff.

Ever since you began dating Rafayel, you would say your appreciation for art had definitely improved. How could it not, considering he spent all day creating it, and in the time he wasn’t, his world was still colored by the lens of it. Rafayel saw art everywhere he went, in the gentle roll of the water where it rippled in fountains, or the timid but pinpoint light of a lone star in a dark sky. He loved describing it to you, and the way he put it would make you look around twice. He had really changed the way you viewed the world.

What you were about to do now wasn’t exactly the kind of art that made you think deeply of the universe, but hey, not all art can make you question your existence. Sometimes you need to create….. lighter pieces.

Stepping back, you stared down at the bed sheet sized canvas you had stuck to the floor, sure that you had used enough adhesive to keep it temporarily in place. The clock on the far wall of the studio told you that Rafayel would be home in a little while, which meant you needed to start the next phase of your plan shortly. But first things first, you needed lighter clothes.

After you had switched your jeans and button down shirt for a thin, short robe, you began pulling down buckets of paint from the storage closet connecting to the main studio. You chose only two, a light purple and a light pink. Both colors you knew Rafayel liked using in his pieces. You might not know a whole lot about art, but you knew him inside out. And you also knew he would love this idea.

You spent the next few minutes going over the canvas with the two buckets, pouring a few globs of paint over it. Small, but dense, with lots of blank canvas around them so they could be spread. You decided to only do two or three globs of each color. After all, wasn’t the art in how the colors would move and slide on the canvas? This should be enough paint for that purpose.

Your face was heating up at the thought of what was about to happen, and you felt almost giddy. When was he going to be home? You couldn’t wait to get started.

As if on cue, the door of the studio clicked open, not making a single sound as your boyfriend lumbered in, closing the door behind him. His white shirt was loose, black pants tight, and you couldn’t help but admire his ass when he turned around to shut the door with a light snap.

“Hey-” He stopped almost immediately upon seeing you, eyeing the half empty paint can you were setting down and the flimsy robe covering your body. A body that was definitely naked under it.

“What are you doing?” You saw his eyes flick over you and then behind to eye the massive canvas you had laid out, along with the little circles of paint looking fresh and shiny on it. You gave him a grin.

“I was hoping we could collaborate for your next piece.” You tugged at his shirt until you both stood closer to the canvas, taking special joy in how confused he looked. His eyes kept darting all over the place to try and make sense of what was going on, and you had to stifle a giggle.

You thought to elaborate on your suggestion by slowly unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. Rafayel raised his eyebrows but didn’t stop you, probably curious to see what you were cooking. You tugged his shirt off his toned shoulders, before going to work on his pants. His hand finally seized yours, tilting his head so your eyes would meet his.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” His tone was amused. You hummed almost in thought, pulling your hand away. You tugged on the belt of your robe until it slipped free, and the front fell open. You saw the tips of Rafayel’s ears turn red, and his expression blanked a bit.

“You have paint. You have a canvas. And you have me.” Your voice was a low whisper. You reached into the bucket next to you, palms stretched, until they were both covered in paint. Then you reached one hand up and dragged your fingertips over his bare abs.

The cool paint made them contract a bit, and you heard the way his breath hitched under the touch. Four long streaks of pink now stood out against his pale skin. Finally, you looked back up to meet his gaze, his face inches from yours.

Rafayel’s blush had extended from his ears down to his neck, but the corner of his lip twitched up into a slow grin. His hands were eager as he undid the button of his pants, and you felt a thrill run up your spine. You watched him undress quickly. He was slow, smooth, as he lifted one precise hand to tug on the shoulder of your loose robe until it was falling off your shoulders and pooling at your feet.

He looked around and his eyes caught the second can of paint. Purple. He dipped his hands into it, and you watched him walk back over to you.

“Where did you get this idea, baby?” His voice had lost its confusion, coated in honey now, sultry and low, nearly a whisper, and you shivered when his breath hit your bare neck. He took advantage of the fact that your hair was pulled up and away from your shoulders, tracing gentle lips over the slope of your shoulder. Instinctively, your hands smoothed over his torso, and you were reminded of the paint on them, still wet, now swiped onto the man before you.

Rafayel hummed at the feeling and proceeded to return the favor, his hands set on your hips. The paint was cool on your skin, and you almost jumped at the temperature if it weren’t for his warm hands taking the feeling away in the next second. Your boyfriend gave your naked bodies a gentle tug backwards until you were stepping on paper, slight crinkling noises hitting your ears.

Gentle lips now made contact with yours, and you sighed in relief. You had missed this, just the feeling of him kissing you. You had been thinking about it- and other things- all day, and you were so excited to start. Hands caressed over each other slowly but eagerly, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how much paint you had managed to get on each other.

Your kisses became more hurried, more firm, and you could feel Rafayel’s body temperature rise a bit. His breath stuttered when you moaned into his mouth, tongues dancing together in a synchronized battle. He nibbled at your bottom lip and you arched deeply into him, nails digging into his biceps.

“Fuck, the paint is drying.” You managed to gasp out when your lips separated, his mouth finding the skin behind your ear immediately. He sucked hard on it, until you shivered and let out a long, shaky breath. Your knees were so weak, and you were glad for his strong arms wrapped around your waist, since it was the only thing currently holding you up.

He hummed against your skin, not letting up on the marks he was marring it with. You had discovered pretty early on that Rafayel was a biter, and marks on your skin was another way he created art. It just so happened that you enjoyed the feeling more than you could ever think to describe.

“Good thing you laid more out for us then.” He responded, referring to the globs just below your feet, before tugging you down until you were sprawled on the canvas below you. It was cool under your skin, and you felt something wet just under your shoulder. Oh. Your eyes met Rafayel’s before they finally traveled down his body for the first time since you two had started. You gulped in a deep breath.

His pale skin was covered in purple and pink streaks, like smooth color streaked over brilliant porcelain. The ridges and bumps of his muscles stood out even more under the paint, and you could tell in a few places the exact route your hands had taken, pink running over his waist and down his V-line. The remnants of the journey your fingers took stood before you, proud on his skin. You felt a thrill run through you at the sight, something stirred in your core.

“This is turning you on.” Rafayel observed, a light smirk resting on his face. You felt your body burn at the teasing lilt of his voice.

“As if this isn’t something you’ve dreamed of doing.” You retaliated, opening your legs so he could fit himself between them, resting his elbows on either side of you so your faces were a hairbreadth away. He hummed and sighed, lowering his body until his erection grazed right over your center, making you gasp.

“Believe me, I’ve dreamed of this.” He sighed, reached for the paint to the left and just above your head. You watched him cover his palm with it before he reached down, hooking a hand under your knee and pulling it up until it folded against your torso. The paint was wet on your skin, and you were learning to love the feeling more and more. His cock prodded your entrance, now on full display for him. He gave you another mischievous smirk.

“Baby I’m about to ruin you so bad.”

The first slide of him inside you had you crying out and arching into him, his cock carving its way through your unprepped hole and bringing with it a burn so delicious it made your head spin. When he bottomed out, he moaned unabashedly into your ear, hot breath hitting the shell of it and sending shivers through your spine. Your core clenched and unclenched rapidly, trying to adjust to the glorious intrusion. Your brain screamed at him to move, to slide in and out, do anything at all. You needed to feel him rock into you. Your hips twitched and jerked, making your boyfriend moan before he finally started moving.

His thrusts started out languid, smooth, gliding in and out of you at a reasonable pace. You sighed, head leaned back and reveling in the feeling it brought, leg tensing under his grip. Little tendrils of pleasure zipped up from where you were connected, heavy cock stretching you open until your pussy was adequately wet, ready to take the pounding you knew was inevitably coming your way.

And oh, did you receive it.

Slowly, steadily, Rafayel picked up the pace until his hips were smacking hard into your pelvis, knocking every breath from your lungs. You cried out, one arm thrown over his shoulder while the other seeked desperate purchase under you, used to the feeling of silk sheets but now met with nothing but smooth, stretched out canvas and the wet sensation of sticky color. Rafayel used the grip he had on your knee to twist your leg out further, inviting him to hit that one spot that made you see stars. A broken wail left your mouth and your back arched impossibly high, hearing a low moan hit your ear when you clenched tight around the cock pounding into you.

“F-fuck, Rafi-” His head lifted, just enough to connect your lips in a desperate slurry of rushed kisses, sucking and biting on your lips as his pace didn’t so much as stutter. Your moans dissolved straight into his mouth, little pornographic ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’s slipping out with every thrust. You didn’t bother muffling them, knowing exactly what the noises did for Rafayel’s ego, and with how he was ravishing you currently, you were okay with giving him a little ego boost.

(You would deal with the consequences of that later.)

“Gonna cum-” You managed to choke out just as your orgasm rammed into you with no warning, effectively silencing any other words as you cried and shook through it, muscles seized tight and legs kicking in the air.

“God- fuck,” Rafayel’s first words. “There you go. Fuck, that’s it.”

He fucked you through the last vestiges of your high before his arms slipped under your arched waist and lifted you up, rolling over until you were perched on his hips, throbbing cock still nestled inside you. The change in position made him slide in deeper, and you let out a broken moan. Your orgasm was still lingering around the edges, encouraging you to prolong the feeling, to chase after it again. And so you did. You rolled your hips, placing your hands on Rafayel’s abs as leverage to push your body up and down. You finally took a good look at your boyfriend.

His chest was heaving with exertion, shining under the glow of the lights above you, catching on the swirling mixes of purple and pink. Under the paint, his skin glistened with sweat, tensing and straining under his movements. The paint had reached all the way up the side of his neck, and even into his hair, blending with the purple tresses. The purple complimented his eyes, half lidded and heavy with lust, his lip was tucked under his teeth.

He was a vision.

“Baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice was fractured and strained, and in your staring you had forgotten that you were also the object of his gaze. You couldn’t imagine how you looked right now, slathered with paint and hot under the stimulation you were receiving, strands of hair leaving your bun and trailing down over your face and neck. You rolled your hips and tightened hard around his cock, watching the way his jaw slackened and eyes rolled shut. Another zip of pleasure ran through you, and you couldn’t help but keen, pushing yourself to go faster, to make him feel even better.

“I’m- I’m so close.” You could feel your vision swim, tears gathering in your lash line as his cock dug deep into your core, prodding into your spongy walls in all the right ways. Rafayel grabbed both your wrists off his chest, pulling them behind your back and then tugging you down until your body was pinned tight against his. You let him do as he pleased, planting his feet on the canvas before he started thrusting hard and fast up into your sopping cunt.

You screamed and arched, body tensing at the pace he set, chin resting on his shoulder and head thrown back as you let him carry you face first into another orgasm, gushing around him until the sounds of his thrusts grew impossibly wetter, sloppier than the paint around you and covering you, blabbering incoherent phrases and curses as tears poured from your eyes. With every thrust, the ecstasy prolonged itself, like an endless high that came with intense drugs, except all you needed was him, and he would get you there if it was the last thing he did.

Your perspective was shifting, Rafayel’s cock leaving you until you felt cold and empty. He maneuvered you onto your hands and knees, or rather, arms and knees since you felt that you couldn’t even hold yourself up at this point. A firm hand pushed on your back until it arched to his liking, spreading you until he could slide his massive length back into you with little to no resistance. You whimpered pathetically, eyes rolling unhindered in your head, cheek smushed into the paper beneath you. Briefly, you felt like you could almost taste the paint, but the thought left your brain faster than cigarette smoke dissipating on a windy day when Rafayel started moving again.

“Stop me if you can’t take it.”

You could never, would never stop him, not when your pussy keened at the feeling of his cock filling you up to fulfillment once more. Especially not when he planted a foot on your side that gave him leverage to thrust harder and stronger into you. Your body buzzed and reveled under the feeling of being used like this, basking in the sounds coming from Rafayel getting heavier and choppier as he finally chased his own orgasm instead of yours. You wanted nothing more than for him to warm you up, fill you with his seed until you couldn’t take any more of it. Your depraved mind was wiped blank of everything else except that crushing need.

“Cum in me.” You managed to whine, clenching hard around him. Rafayel moaned and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck. I’m gonna- I’m cumming baby, take it, take it, take it, take it-” Your body jostled at the strength of his thrusts, once, twice, and then he was slamming his cock deep into you and holding it there, hot spurts of cum hitting your walls. Painting your insides white like your bodies had painted your outsides purple and pink.

Your entire body collapsed on itself when Rafayel pulled out, dropping onto the paper heavily as you tried to catch your breath. Your vision was swimming and so was your head, unable to do anything but focus on the faint buzz in your muscles. You could hear shuffling somewhere behind you before you were being lifted into strong arms. You sighed and curled into them, seeking the warmth of your boyfriend after the beating your body just took. And he was happy to provide it- in the tub he ran for you while both of you settled into warm water.

You dozed in and out of sleep as Rafayel cleaned you up, giggling and humming along with whatever little anecdotes he was telling you. He knew you would barely remember most of it later, considering how dopey and spacey you got after sex. You pouted and leaned up to him every few minutes, stealing tiny kisses from his lips. And afterwards, you let him pat you dry and put you to bed in the usual “princess treatment” he gave you after one of your sessions. The only time he backed off from teasing you relentlessly and instead doted on you properly.

You couldn’t tell how long you slept, but you woke up feeling well rested. The bed next to you was empty but still slightly warm, and you could hear quiet shuffling outside in the studio.

Your muscles screamed when you forced them to move, your hips and thighs feeling like particular sore spots. You ignored the feeling in favor of pulling a shirt off the floor to throw over your body, realizing it was your boyfriend’s when it fell all the way to your thighs. You trudged out of the room while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You saw him standing with his back to you, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. The muscles of his bare back shifted as he moved, now clear of all the paint you two had slathered on it. Oh right, the paint.

Your eyes shifted behind him to the canvas, which Rafayel had propped up against the wall now, and was observing silently. You walked closer to admire the streaks of pink and purple on it, watching it carefully. Somehow, the choppy strokes showed your desperation, your passion, and you felt your face heat up at the thought.

“Looks pretty.” Your voice was slightly rough. Rafayel turned around at the sound and gave you a soft smile, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you from behind as you both stared. You settled into his warmth as you swayed gently back and forth.

“Why’re you thinking so hard about it?” You asked.

You turned your head to watch as he huffed and pouted a bit. He looked so cute, you bit back the urge to squish his cheeks.

“Pretty sure there’s some cum in there somewhere.”

Aaaaaand the urge was gone.

You smacked his chest hard, making him jerk back and laugh, but not releasing his hold on you.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Not more than you.”

He kissed you before you could land another smack, hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head back. You fought to keep a grin down, but failed when you felt his lips stretch with a smile of his own, erupting into giggles.

[bambisworlds]

reunited

Rick thought he knew what true, unconditional romantic love felt like with Lori. She was his first love, the mother of his child. But that was nothing close to what he felt with you. You had the ability to turn him into the most deranged man alive, someone unrecognizable and downright psychotic when it came to protecting you. You could also bring him to his knees and turn him into a puddle at your feet. He could be the softest, gentleness man to exist if you wanted him to be. You were his, and he was yours. Simple as that. When he woke up in the hospital to find the world had ended there were only two things on his mind; Carl and you. He needed to find you. (3,587 word count)

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, established relationship, some angst but not really, age gap (reader's her in mid 20s), rick is down bad for reader, rick is so in love with reader it's crazy, munch!rick, oral (f. receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), use of "good girl", consent check, let me know if i forgot anything x

my masterlist

~

Rick was exhausted and he felt terrible. Not just physically but emotionally. The guilt of leaving Merle on the roof and the horrors he’d endured gnawed at him but he tried not to let it show. The only thing that took his mind off of it were thoughts of you. God he missed you. And he was so afraid of what could’ve happened to you, or what could be currently happening to you. The wondering of if you were alive, if you were hurt… it was unbearable. So much so he felt like he had some sort of object plunged into his heart that was slowly rotting and decaying while simultaneously spreading throughout his body, leaking poison  and black goo into his bloodstream. So, he hardly felt any relief when he arrived back at Glenn’s camp. 

~

Y/n quickly walked up to Glenn as he got out of the sports car, pulling him into a hug as he arrived back at camp. The two had become pals when she joined the group, Glenn was a genuinely nice guy, “Thank God you’re alive.” she chuckles, releasing him from her grasp with a soft pat on his back, “That’s quite the car you got there.”

“How did y’all get out of there anyway?” Shane asks, walking over to the two of them with his rifle that he never seems to let go of. Y/n’s smile faded from his presence, she couldn’t figure out what it was but Shane gave her a bad vibe.

“New guy. He got us out.” Glenn answers with a smile, relieved himself that he made it out. 

“New guy?” Shane asks, skeptical, and Y/n sends him a look. Shane was always an asshole to newcomers, even if they helped save someone in the group.

“Yeah, crazy vato just got into town. The guy’s a cop like you.” Glenn tells Shane and Y/n’s ears perk up, her eyes widening with a glimmer of hope.

“A cop?” she asks quickly, “From where? What’s his name?” she quizzes frantically, looking in the direction of the van that had pulled up behind Glenn. She could feel the pounding of her heart in her chest as the door to the van opened and Rick stepped out. Her ears rang as if she was in some altered plane of consciousness, her lips parting in disbelief. “Oh my God,” Y/n and Rick both mutter in sync as they stare at each other, both frozen in shock.

Before Y/n could even grasp what was happening or let it register in her brain that he was alive, Rick had broken out into a sprint towards her. He crashed so hard into her the two nearly fell to the ground, his arms wrapping around her tightly with a slight tremor in his limbs. Finally the world had gone quiet for Rick. The unbearable rotting in his heart had ceased, a stem of flowers and sunlight growing in its place. Rick released a choked sob, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck as he held onto her like a lifeline. His eyes nearly rolled back as he breathed in her familiar scent, waves of relief and downright euphoria crashing over him.

Unable to resist, he pulled his head back and kissed her with a type of passion that couldn’t be replicated, as if he was trying to bind their souls together through the gesture. Rick moaned into the kiss unabashedly, one arm wrapping around her waist to keep her pressed against him while the other cradled the back of her head in an almost protective manner.

“You’re alive,” he murmured in between kisses, barely giving Y/n the chance to respond before connecting their lips again. The kiss was sloppy and desperate, a physical representation of longing and love they both were feeling. The two barely registered the other people around them, too lost in each other, “C’mere,” he grunted out, moving his hands down to grab onto the underside of her thighs. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, choking out a laugh of disbelief and unadulterated joy as he spun around once with her in his arms. She smiled bigger than she had in weeks, her hands resting on either side of his face.

“You’re alive,” she echoes with a broad smile.

“I’m alive,” he repeats, his smile matching hers. The glimmer in his eyes that had been missing since he woke up in the hospital had returned. Rick nearly dropped her as a smaller figure came crashing into him; Carl. Rick’s eyes widened in shock and he carefully, but quickly set Y/n down, pulling Carl into his arms next as another round of sobs escaped him. Y/n smiled down at the two of them, sobbing and laughing at the same time. She didn’t reach for them, wanting them to have a moment of their own. Rick lifted his head slightly to catch sight of Lori, another wave of relief washing over him knowing Carl had been with his mother this whole time. Rick smiled again, his face growing sore from how large his smile was as he held Carl. Rick rose to his feet, wrapping an arm around Y/n and Carl both. His heart was full. Nothing else mattered, nothing at all.

~

That night Rick naturally stayed with Y/n in her tent, unable to be away from her for even a moment.

Rick could hardly believe this was real. Even after he recited what had happened to him around the bonfire with Y/n and Carl in his arms, it still felt too good to be true. Like a dream.

“I still can’t believe it,” Rick says with a small smile as he sits down on the raggedy mattress inside of Y/n’s tent. Y/n smiled softly, finishing dressing into comfier clothes for the night. 

“Me neither,” she sighs, walking over to him to straddle his thighs. Rick’s hands instinctively moved to rest on her hips, like his hands had done countless times before. His eyes catch on a glimmer of a gold chain peeking out from beneath her t-shirt, glowing from the low lamp light. His smile grew slightly as he gently plucked the chain out from beneath her shirt. It was the golden, heart locket he had given her on their first anniversary. It held a picture of the two of them that was taken at her 22nd birthday party. She was smiling in the picture with Rick’s arm wrapped around her waist as he kissed her on the cheek. They both looked so happy.

“You still have it,” Rick mutters with a nostalgic smile, tracing his thumb over the locket. 

“I know it’s morbid, but I was scared if I never saw you again I’d forget what you looked like,” she practically whispered, her voice cracking slightly, “This is the only picture I had left of you, I wasn’t about to lose it.” she smiles sadly. 

“You wanna know somethin’ stupid?” he asks with a grin, lifting his bottom off the mattress slightly to grab something out of his back pocket while keeping a firm hold on Y/n with his free arm so she wouldn’t fall off his lap. Y/n watches him with furrowed eyebrows, unsure of where he was going with this. “I went back to the house after I woke up and the first thing I grabbed was my wallet,” he chuckles, holding his leather wallet in his hands, “It’s kinda pointless to have it now, except for one thing in it,” Rick opens his wallet to reveal a picture in it of him, Carl, and Y/n, “I wasn’t about to lose this either.”

“Rick…” Y/n mutters with a smile as she traces her finger over the picture. It was taken at one of Carl’s holiday parties at his school. It meant so much to her when Carl had asked her to go, saying he wanted his whole family there, not just his parents, “I guess we had the same idea then.”

“I guess so,” Rick grins, setting the wallet down on the crate beside the mattress that served as a makeshift nightstand. His hand returned to rest on her hips, slipping beneath the band t-shirt she wore to feel her bare skin, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to be able to touch you again?” Rick asks huskily.

“I have some idea,” Y/n mutters, resting her hands on his shoulders. 

“I dreamt of you every night. Every goddamn night. Like you were some ghost haunting me, or an angel,” Rick’s fingers thumbs rub soothing circles on her sides, “The dream would last long enough for me to think it was real, then when I woke up…” he sighs, looking down at Y/n’s lap. 

“I’m sorry… it must’ve been terrifying when you woke up in the hospital.” Y/n’s heart clenches and she rests her hands on the sides of his face, encouraging him to look back up at her.

“When I went back to the house and nobody was there… I’d never felt so devastated in my life,” he explains and Y/n nods sympathetically. 

“I’m sorry,” she says again, resting her forehead against his, “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. Rick sighs, closing his eyes as the lingering ache of that awful day faded, a sense of contentment overpowering it. 

“None of that matters anymore. All that matters is you’re alive, you’re safe,” Rick pulls back slightly, tilting her chin up towards his face with his thumb, “I love you more than anythin’,” Rick says firmly, “You and Carl… you’re my whole world. I don’t care if the rest of it is in shambles as long as the two of you are happy and alive.”

Y/n smiles softly, closing  the distance between them to nuzzle her nose against his before kissing him. Rick sighs contently, immediately melting into her familiar embrace as his hand falls back to her hip. His hands gripped her hips, squeezing the soft flesh there with a slight moan. Y/n’s hands snaked from his shoulders up his hair, tugging slightly. Rick smirked against her lips, lifting her up off his lap and turning them so he could lay her on the mattress.

“Didn’t realize how much I would miss feeling you yankin’ on my hair like that,” he grins down at her, bracing his hands on either side of her head. Just as Y/n was about to respond with a smart remark he lowered his head to press open mouthed kisses on her throat. Rick groaned, sucking and nipping at her skin. He lowered himself down to brace himself on his elbows instead of his hands, wanting to be as close to her as possible. Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting with soft breaths. 

“I missed you so much,” she breathes, her hand resting gently on the back of his neck.

“Mmm, I missed you too,” he mumbled against her skin. He supported his weight on one elbow, his free hand caressing and groping any part of her he could reach, “Need to get reacquainted with this body of yours,” Rick smirks. 

“I think I’ll allow it,” Y/n says with a slight smile. She slips her hands beneath his t-shirt, smoothing her hands over his sides and abdomen. Rick’s smirk grows as he captures her lips again. 

“Don’t know how in the world I’m gonna keep quiet,” Rick smiled against her lips, “Might have to build us a cabin in the middle of nowhere so I can be as loud as I want.”

“Miss me that much?” she asks with a grin of her own, their noses bumping against each other.

“You got no idea,” he mutters, yanking her shirt off in one swift movement. Y/n gasped softly followed by a slight chuckle of surprise from the brisk action, but her chuckle faded as Rick bent down to capture one of her nipples between his lips. Y/n sighed contently, combing her fingers through his hair as he lavished attention on her breasts. Rick was moaning and groaning as if he was tasting the most delectable desert imaginable. 

“People are gonna hear you,” Y/n giggles quietly.

“Don’t care,” Rick mumbles in response, hastily kissing down her stomach as he yanks off her sleep shorts. Once they were discarded he nuzzled his nose against the crotch of her panties, his eyes rolling back with a low moan. If it hadn’t been so long since she’d last seen him, Y/n might’ve been embarrassed by his display, but she missed him too damn much to feel bashful.

Rick placed an open mouthed kiss on her dampening panties, his tongue poking at the fabric before peeling them down, his face so close to her cunt his nose bumped against her panties as he pulled it away. The minute he had them shimmed down to her ankles he was pushing her thighs apart, his eyes darkening at the sight of her glistening folds that had been practically engraved into his memory since the first time he saw them. He nuzzled his nose against her clit, his eyes fluttering shut again, “God damn,” he mutters reverently before opening his eyes once more, looking up at Y/n’s face. 

The look in his eyes sent a shiver down Y/n’s spine, it almost made her want to get up and run from how hungry and dark his gaze was, but she’d rather get bit by a walker than go anywhere else right now. She needed him just as much as he needed her. 

Rick suctioned her clit between his lips, holding eye contact with Y/n, but once her familiar flavor touched his tongue his eyes rolled back and all coherent thought was lost. He devoured her as if he hadn’t eaten in months, which he might as well hadn’t considering how long it’s been since he’s last tasted her. He hastily yanked her further down the mattress so his face was smushed against her pussy, haphazardly shoving her legs over his shoulders as he ate her out like some starving animal. 

“Oh shit,” Y/n gasped, her head falling back against the meager pillows as her back arched off the mattress. 

“Mhm,” Rick hummed against her cunt, barely even bothering to glance up at her as he focused on her cunt. He lapped over every inch of her sex as if trying to memorize it, periodically sucking on her clit and pumping his tongue into her hole. His hands gripped her hips tightly, keeping her firmly in place for his ministrations.  

“Rick I’m gonna cum,” she mutters frantically, nearing her peak at record speed after weeks of aching for him. 

“Do it,” Rick mumbles against her folds, his voice vibrating against her sensitive flesh. Y/n whispered and mumbled profanities, covering her mouth with her hand in hopes the people in the tents around theirs wouldn’t overhear, or worse a walker. She released a choked moan, her back arching off the bed as she came and Rick lapped at her cunt eagerly, moaning in delight. He didn’t seem to have a problem with anyone or anything overhearing him. 

Y/n shivered and jerked as he continued to lap at her clit with no sign of stopping, she eventually pushed him back by his forehead as it became too much. Rick looked up at her with hungry eyes, his lips pink and puffy and chin slick with her arousal. He began to yank her back to his mouth when she tugged at his t-shirt, pulling him up to her face. He begrudgingly let her tug him where she wanted him, but not before he had the chance to strip off his own clothes in a flash. 

“Need you so bad,” Rick mumbled against her lips, their teeth clashing from the desperation of the kiss. Y/n made a needy sound of agreement, enjoying the oddly erotic taste of herself on his tongue and lips. Rick quickly gripped onto her thighs and wrapped them around his waist, rubbing his cock against her folds to coat himself in her juices, “Sure you want this?” Rick double checks, his restraint holding on by a string, but a lot could change in 6 weeks. He didn’t know all of what she’s been through. He needed to make sure she truly did want this, want him, no matter how much he loved her and craved her.

“Yes, please, please,” she begged eagerly, bucking her hips up against his cock. Rick felt as if he heard angels singing briefly at her desperate reply. He slowly slid his cock into her, a choked moan escaping him. He nearly collapsed on top of her like some teenager losing his virginity, he had missed her so damn bad he nearly came before he was all the way in. 

“Christ,” Rick grunts as he bottoms out, a shudder running through his body, “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered to himself, his chest heaving. He tried to remember all the things he used to think about when he was younger when he tried not to cum fast, like brick walls or sweaty balls or something, but being with her again felt so damn good. 

“You okay?” Y/n asks him breathily, her chest heaving as well.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rick pants, beginning to move, “Fuck,” he moans loudly as he begins to roll his hips, his head falling back.

“Rick!” Y/n scolds, reaching up to cover his mouth with her hand. He grins behind her hand, mumbling a ‘sorry’ against her palm. 

He let his head fall forward again, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, “You just feel so damn good, baby,” he mumbles against her neck. Y/n lets out a hushed moan in agreement, tangling her fingers in his hair as she keeps her legs firmly locked around his waist. Rick pants, his moans muffled against her skin as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. His hands gripped the sheets on either side of her head with the effort of holding himself back. Y/n mewled and whimpered quietly in his ear, her eyes fluttering shut in enjoyment as she clung to him. 

Rick found the strength to lift his head up to look down at her, her gorgeous features furrowed from pleasure only adding to his arousal, “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he mutters, beginning to pound into her with renewed vigor. Y/n’s jaw dropped and her eyes flew open from the change of pace, a shaky moan slipping past her lips. 

“F-Fuck, Rick,” she gasps, both their breathing growing heavier.

“That’s the plan,” he chuckles, snaking his hands underneath her to lift her ass off the bed and maneuvering her ankles onto his shoulders in search of that special spot inside her. He knew he’d found it when her back arched off the bed followed quickly by a high pitched cry. Rick smirks devilishly, “That’s the spot.”

Y/n frantically reached for Rick’s discarded shirt beside them on the bed, holding it over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her moans. Rick immediately shakes his head in disapproval, yanking the shirt from her grasp, “No hiding that pretty face from me.” he grunts, “If you gotta moan then moan, I wanna see my girl's face when she cums.”

Jesus he’s so hot. Y/n thinks, “Gonna cum,” she whimpers, her face contorting.

“Mhm, cum on my cock,” Rick encourages, his thrusts precise to keep hitting that special spot inside her with each snap of his hips.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Y/n repeats on a loop, her eyes rolling back and body convulsing as she cums.

“Yesss that’s it, that’s my good girl,” Rick praises triumphantly, not relenting his movements. Y/n sobs in pleasure, her hands flailing on the bed for something to hold onto. Rick quickly positions her legs back on either side of his hips, grabbing onto her hands to intertwine their fingers on either side of her head, “You’ve got one more in you, I can feel it,” he pants, “Be a good girl and give it to me.” Y/n shakes her head slightly with a shaky whimper, but she could already feel another orgasm building within her, “Yes you can, you’re gonna cum again. Three’s nothin’, I’ve given you eleven in one night before.” Y/n’s body begins to melt into the mattress and her grip on his hands loosen, her jaw going slack as she cums again, “There we go,” Rick mutters almost to himself as he feels her walls begin to clench and quiver around his cock again, her face the image of pure bliss.

Rick’s thrusts began to falter, struggling to keep himself up as he neared his peak. With a jerk of his hips and low groan he cums as well, burying himself as deep as he could as he grinds against her, “Fuuuck,” he moans, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. He moans in satisfaction, his body turning to jelly as he collapses atop her, holding himself up weakly on his forearms. He rolled his hips slightly, prolonging both of their pleasure as he captured her lips in a slow, languid kiss.

He pulls back enough to where their noses bumped against one another's, his voice firm with no room for argument, “I’m never losing you again.”

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below any of my posts or in my submissions!! (check here: about my blog  to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

[formulawolff]

"my hero" - m.v.

pairing: social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count: idek tbh (i’m posting this on my lunch break hehe)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, max in bf mode, long distance couple, cursing here and there, mentions of mental health, mentions of mental health disorders, mentions of physical health, yada, yada, yada

a/n: i know i said i was working on requests but this idea would not leave my brain all day. i couldn't stop thinking about it so i had to write it. (it's def a little self-indulgent) i hope y'all enjoy!

"ah! there you are. i can see you now!""

a giggle bubbles up in your throat, your lips forming a wide smile, "hi baby, how are you?"

he shrugs, the image distorted for about a millisecond. he comes into frame once again, slightly pixelated. however, you can make out the sleepy grin plastered across his face, and the twinkle in his eye as he looks into the camera.

max verstappen, three time world driver’s champion, is on facetime with you, donned in nothing but a black cotton tee and his boxers. you can tell from the background that he’s in his motorhome, settled in his room.

his hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up haphazardly. he more than likely just got out of the shower, as the fabric of the tee clung to his toned frame. underneath his eyes were two faint circles, the skin slightly puffy.

yet, here he was, calling you at god knew what hour just to hear the sound of your voice.

"tired. very fucking tired."

"i can imagine so," you nod, typing along at your laptop, "what time is it there?"

he hums, leaning over his phone, "it's about eleven thirty?"

"max!" your eyes widen, "you need to get some sleep. it's qualifying tomorrow!"

"and?" he counters, arching a brow, "i wanted to hear how your day went. from your messages, it seemed like it was quite eventful."

"i'm just wrapping up my notes now," you exhale, your shoulders slumping slightly, "it was a long day."

"i can imagine my baby," he coos, settling underneath the covers, "tell me all about it."

"i can assure you being a case worker is not nearly as riveting as a formula one driver," you snort, shaking your head, "you go first."

"nope," he was not budging, his attention still fixated solely on you, "tell me about your day, and then i'll share about mine. it's only fair."

"well," you wrinkle your nose, glancing over the open document on your laptop screen, "my day started with one of my clients experiencing a small crisis. she was without food so she called me, asking if i could take her to the nearest pantry. while i was with her, another client of mine called asking if i could transport him to his appointment.

i probably could have, but he reached out to me only fifteen minutes before his appointment time. i received my new staffing form today. i have a couple of clients who are in need of housing so i had to make some calls to some local agencies."

"and how did that go?" you can't help but feel heat flourishing into your cheeks at the intrigue laced in his tone, "were you able to make some progress?"

"not really," you inhale sharply, "housing is really difficult to find right now. it's sort of like when your tires are giving out, but you need them to last a few more laps. you have to remain hopeful so that you can keep pushing."

“i like that analogy,” he fights a yawn, but continues regardless, “that’s a good one. i’m going to use that.”

“as long as you credit me,” you muse, clicking your mousepad as you finalize your note, “how was practice today?”

“so-so,” he chirps, “i missed you a lot today. thought about you nearly every second of the practice session. you’re flying out next week, right?”

you nod, shutting your laptop, “yes. i’ll be leaving wednesday evening and catching a late flight. hopefully when i land, there will be this insanely handsome dutch man waiting for me.”

“is that right?” max’s dimples appear, causing your heart to skip a beat, “i’m hoping that my good luck charm arrives safe and sound. i can’t wait to see her.”

“counting down the minutes are we?”

“you have no idea,” carefully, he plucks his phone from his makeshift stand, bringing you closer into the bed with him, “will you stay on till i fall asleep?”

at his request, there’s a tug at your heart. fuck, if only you were with him. then he would have been able to lay on you until he dozed off. his head would have been snuggled into uour collabone, your hands tangled in his hair, playing with it as his chest steadily rose and fell.

if only you were there. if only you were an influencer or a model. if only you could take work with you, dropping everything to fly all over the world. if only you weren’t separated by time zones, where you had to carefully coordinate facetime calls.

if only you weren’t long distance, then maybe you wouldn’t feel like this.

if only.

“hey,” max’s voice is merely a whisper, “are you okay?”

your lower lip trembles, tears welling up, threatening to spill over. there’s a choking sound, as you attempt to suppress a sob.

yet, it was too late. they were streaming down your cheeks now, your hands instinctively shielding your face.

“baby,” max murmurs, “what’s going on?”

“this shit sucks,” you shake your head, the words strained, “i hate that i’m not with you right now. i hate that we’re long distance. i hate that i have to stay here and—“

“but your clients need you,” his tone is delicate, “you’re the one person they can count on when everything else is going to shit. they need you like i need you. i can tell you had a long day baby, but i’m here. i’m here for you, no matter what.”

“i-i love you,” you manage to sputter out, wiping your cheeks, “i love you, max.”

“and i love you more than you’ll ever know,” in the frame, a pillow is held against his chest, “i’m even cuddling this pillow right now pretending that it’s you.”

“i can’t believe you fell in love with some plain girl from the states,” you sigh, resting your head against the couch cushion, “out of everyone in the world, you happened to fall in love with me.”

“you’re not just any girl from the states,” for a moment, you’re shocked at the firmness in his tone, “you’re my girl. it takes someone special to do what you do. you’re my hero baby. i aspire to be as strong as you.”

“i love you,” the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile, “am i really your hero?”

“of course,” it doesn’t even take him a second to respond, “like i said, you’re the strongest person i know. you inspire me.”

“i can’t wait to see you,” you murmur, taking note of the way his eyes were drooping, “i’ll stay on till you sleep, my love. it seems like you need it.”

“hey,” one eye opens, barely a slit, “i know this shit sucks right now, but we’ll make it. okay? one day you’ll get to come home to me and tell me all about your day rather than calling. it’ll be worth it. i promise.”

“i hope so. i love you, maxie. sleep well, my love. i’ll be there before you know it.”

“try to have a good evening,” you could barely make out the statement, as he was beginning to doze off, “just end the call when i’m asleep. i’ll message you in the morning.”

“i’ll be here,” opening your laptop, you prop it against the screen, “goodnight, maxie.”

“night, night, baby.”

as sleep takes a hold of the dutch driver, you remain on the call, opening youtube. cautiously, you click on one of your favorite videos. it’s a montage of all of max’s wins, starting from the 2016 spanish grand prix.

the video begins to play, the volume carefully adjusted so that it doesn’t wake him.

as your gaze shifts to your phone once again, you can’t help but hear his words ringing in your ears.

one day this would all be worth it.

and one day, max verstappen would be able to be with his hero.

every single day for the rest of his life.

[allpiesforourown]

OKAY SO I have way too many WIPs to write a role reversal fic and I meant to just yap about my au and ended up writing 2k words about it if you want to read it below...

oblivious shizun luo binghe / oblivious disciple shen yuan

First of all i've been reading a lot of role reversal fics lately but big shout out to ao3 user anqlbean for this fic because it really gave me "fuckboy shizun binghe, hiding that he's a demon lord" brain rot

Okay so anyway. In fair cang qiong sect where we lay our scene-

Luo Binghe is the Qing Jing peak lord. He’s also the heavenly emperor of the demon realm. No one knows both of his identities except for mobei jun and a handful of other people from his inner circle. It’s risky for a demon to hide as one of the cultivation world’s most prominent figures, but he likes having the best of both worlds!

Enter Shen Yuan: Shen Yuan's cultivation history is somewhat similar to Shen Jiu's in that he started cultivating late and joined Qing Jing well into his teens. He’s about 16 when he becomes Binghe’s student, but the thing is… Luo Binghe is kind of just the peak lord in name.

He spends his free time getting laid in the next town or going on an adventure with some hot demoness instead of giving classes. He’ll go on cultivation missions and take requests from villages and whatnot, but he doesn't bother teaching his disciples, just gives them a cultivation manual and tells them to figure it out. Half the time when students greet him on the peak he just nods because he doesnt even remember the disciple’s name. It’s fine though, once every few months he’ll take a break from all the one night stands and actually take a student along with him on a mission, just to keep the sect leader from complaining. “See, I teach my kids! Last month I took what’s-his-name on a night hunt!”

By the time Luo Binghe bothers to take Shen Yuan along for a mission, Shen Yuan is already 20 and has been on the peak for 4 years. Luo Binghe barely knows he exists, and he justs wants to collect this herb he was tasked with retrieving, send Shen Yuan back with it, and then get nasty with the woman back in the village who gave them directions to the cave that grows it. 

Unfortunately for Binghe, the cave is also home to one of the few flowers that can affect a demon lord. Binghe can’t move as he falls to the ground and hears his student yell “Shizun!” and run over.

They can hear monsters nearby so Shen Yuan’s two options are to 1) heal his shizun by taking advantage of Binghe's body or 2) abandon him to die and leave by himself. Binghe has experienced both multiple times, and is ready for either one. He's not ready for Shen Yuan to choose a third option that no one has ever chosen before: heaving Luo Binghe onto his back, transferring him qi, and using every bit of strength to carry him to safety. 

By the time they return to the cave’s entrance, Shen Yuan only has enough energy to use a talisman signalling the sect for help before they both pass out. 

When Luo Binghe wakes up, the Qian Cao peak lord is asking him how he feels while his head disciple is yelling at a sheepish Shen Yuan for doing something reckless again! Apparently this is not the first time Shen Yuan has exhausted himself for the sake of another person. 

Over the next few days, he can’t think of anything other than his student. 

(Also, he secretly feels kind of… angry??? Was his body so unappealing to Shen Yuan that he'd rather half-die than dual cultivate with him?? He's not sure why he's so pissed off by the idea, it's not like he's ever wanted to dual cultivate with a man before, but still…)

Finally he decides he has every right to be curious about shen yuan, that’s his disciple! Unfortunately while Binghe was ignoring Shen Yuan's existence for the past few years, his disciple has managed to build up… a reputation at Cang Qiong. 

Oh Shen Yuan selflessly saved Luo Binghe? Big deal, saving people is an average Tuesday for Shen Yuan, apparently! “He stopped my qi deviation” this, “he threw me out of a poisonous demon's way” that. 

For the first time ever, Luo Binghe is not special. If anything, he has less pull with Shen Yuan than anyone else at Cang Qiong, because everyone else knows Shen Yuan better. Luo Binghe doesn’t know Shen Yuan’s birthday, but the rest of his students make sure to throw Shen Yuan a party every year to thank him for all his tutoring. Binghe is SO far behind, which is a feeling he hasn’t felt in YEARS. 

About a month after the mission, he finally sees Shen Yuan sparring alone. Luo Binghe walks over, acting unbothered and nonchalant even though he's screaming internally. He greets his disciple and says, “This master has yet to properly thank Shen Yuan for his assistance at the cave… join me at the bamboo house tonight.” 

Shen Yuan apologizes, says he has important plans but would love to join him another night, then spends the rest of the day off the peak with the An Ding head disciple. 

Luo Binghe is flabbergasted. He's less important than an An Ding disciple???? Really??? Fucking An Ding????? 

After that, Luo Binghe……. He isn’t stalking Shen Yuan, despite what Liu Mingyan (Xian Su peak lord) might say with excited eyes. He’s just keeping an eye on this interesting disciple he never knew he had! In secret. 

He walks in on Qingge and Shen Yuan “sparring” and sees the exact moment Shen Yuan oversteps, loses his balance and goes tumbling on top of Liu Qingge. Binghe storms over, picks Shen Yuan up by the back of his robe like a cat, and physically separates the two of them. The two disciples gawk at how weird that was and he has no idea how to come up with an excuse for whatever the hell that just was. 

Instead he asks what they’re doing. 

Shen Yuan, being polite and answering the question: Liu-shidi and I are heading on a mission soon-

Luo Binghe: this master shall join you.

Shen Yuan: uh… it's a very simple request, two disciples are more than en-

Luo Binghe: this. Master. Shall. Join. You.

Liu Qingge: ???? What the hell is his problem 

Shen Yuan: Okay… this disciple is grateful for shizun’s assistance…?

Their flight to the village is dead quiet. 

The townspeople sigh theyre so glad they’re here, some demonic creature has been destroying their wildlife! This area makes most of their money with lumber exports, so if the creature continues to destroy their trees, it’ll result in huge losses. 

When they find the demon, Shen Yuan starts yapping non stop. It’s like he’s suddenly transformed into a textbook, explaining that this little beaver-esque demon needs to chew up trees for its survival. Luo Binghe is bored out of his mind and pulls out his sword. 

Shen Yuan gaps and picks up the small creature, holding it protectively against his chest. “This species isn’t even violent! We can’t kill it!” 

Luo Binghe crosses his arms and says they have to complete this commission somehow. Shen Yuan argues they can simply relocate the demon somewhere else! Luo Binghe expects Liu Qingge to complain or brutishly try to kill it, but he shrugs and says he’ll follow Shen Yuan. Apparently this happens regularly…

By the time they rehome the creature somewhere it won’t be a bother, it’s too late to fly back to the sect.

The only close by inn apologizes and says they only have two rooms left, and each one is a single bed. They can have a mat sent up, but…

Binghe says he should room with Shen Yuan because they’re both from Qing Jing, and (he glares at Liu Qingge as he says this) Liu Qingge is an outsider. Liu Qingge narrows his eyes and says it would be inappropriate for a peak lord to share a room with a lowly disciple, so he should room with Shen Yuan. 

Shen Yuan cheerfully chimes in that he and Liu-shidi sleep together all the time! “Whenever shidi and I camp outdoors, he says he prefers sleeping on the ground. He’ll be happy to take the mat.”

Luo Binghe's smile becomes a little forced, but shen Yuan doesn't even notice the murderous intent rolling off his shizun, aimed at his friend from Bai Zhan. 

In the end, Shen Yuan gets one room, and Liu Qingge gets the other. Luo Binghe insists his cultivation is high enough he doesn’t need to sleep, and had no intention to sleep tonight anyway.

This is a perfect time to go and find a brothel or a hookup. He realizes this is the longest he’s gone without sex in a long time, all because he’s been obsessed with Shen Yuan so much lately. But he’s got too much on his mind to do that tonight… He’s still thinking of the loving way Shen Yuan protected that small helpless demon, going as far as defying a peak lord for its sake.

Shen Yuan is… someone with shockingly good character. Despite being surrounded by cultivators, meeting people who are good is surprisingly rare. He doesn’t want his sweet disciple to have that lovely sense of justice stolen away from him by… gross perverts like Liu Qingge lusting after him! 

(He’s not projecting!)

He’s already neglected Shen Yuan as a shizun for so many years. Now he has to step and make up for all that time! He’s decided what he has to do. 

First thing in the morning, he knocks on Shen Yuan’s door. He hears a sweet ‘Come in!’ from inside and for some reason he feels… really nervous. Inside, Shen Yuan is sitting on his bed, brushing his hair, and he smiles when he looks up and sees Luo Binghe. “Good morning, shizun.”

Good morning??? How can he say something so casually, without a hint of shame, looking like that?? He’s wearing nothing but one layer that’s not even thick enough to hide his body! He can see Shen Yuan’s milky thighs and small chest!!!! What the fuck!?

(Is this how he walks around the shared dorms on Qing Jing? Do all the other disciples see the outline of his body through his thin layer every morning?? The longer he stares, the more he tells himself he’s making the right decision by doing this.)

He cuts right to the chase. “Once we return, Shen Yuan shall move his belongings into the bamboo house. This lord will teach him all there is to know about being Qing Jing’s head disciple.” He makes it clear that this is a statement, not a request – he’s not giving Shen Yuan a choice. 

Shen Yuan gawks at him, and Luo Binghe says they’ll discuss things more in detail once they return to Qing Jing, but from this moment on, he represents himself as Luo Binghe’s head disciple. It takes Shen Yuan a few minutes to really comprehend what’s going on, but eventually he bows in thanks and throws on another, thicker layer. Shen Yuan moves for the door and says, “I better tell Liu-shidi-”

Luo Binghe’s hand moves before he can stop himself, and they’re both surprised by the deathly tight grip he has on Shen Yuan’s wrist. 

Luo Binghe clears his throat and lets go. “You should let him be. Sometimes if you spend too much time with a person, it can become off-putting.” There, surely that will keep Shen Yuan away from that brute, right?

Shen Yuan says, “Ohhh,” and then smiles. “Don't worry shizun,” he says gently, “This disciple understands what you're saying. Once I move into the bamboo house, I'll make sure to give shizun his space.” 

Then Shen Yuan walks away and closes the door behind him. Luo Binghe can hear Shen Yuan telling Liu Qingge the good news, “I don’t know if shizun is joking or not, but wouldn’t it be nice for us to do our head disciple work together?” 

Luo Binghe realizes that Shen Yuan is going to RUIN him, and he’ll do it without even realizing. 

[wchswift]

hii hii HEHEHEH this is so brain rot but i need a story where logan is a big time cuddler (i know he gives the best hug ever 😭) maybe he keeps that only to reader!!

ଓ IN HIS ARMS

pairing: logan howlett x reader

summary: logan is a big time cuddler, but he saves all his tender, comforting affection just for you.

word count: 1.3k

content: fluff, established relationship, implied sex, post-sex cuddles.

a/n: hiii, sorry it took me so long to write it 😭 I may have changed a little from what you asked, but I hope you like it <3

── english isn't my first language :)

Everyone around the mansion was well aware of Logan's grumpy reputation. He was the gruff one, all hard edges, and sharp looks, the not-friendly and indifferent expression to keep people not so close. To most, he's the Wolverine—reserved, intimidating, and always prefers little interaction. But of course, he had his exceptions, like you. You knew better.

Because behind closed doors, Logan was yours, and he’s the most touch-hungry man you've ever met. You know the man beneath the scowl who would hold you close until the rest of the world disappeared if he could. Deep down, he was the type who wouldn’t readily admit it, but he absolutely adored cuddling.

No one would believe it if you told them, but Logan is the best cuddler in the world. There’s something about the way he wraps his arms around you, how his broad chest and strong shoulders make you feel so small and completely safe. It’s like being surrounded by pure strength, and yet it’s soft, too—his touch careful, deliberate, filled with a tenderness that only you get to see. God this man knew how to hug.

Right now, his arms are wrapped around you as you settle against his chest, his warmth seeping into you like the coziest blanket. The room is quiet except for the soft hum of life outside and the sound of his steady breathing. Nights like this—peaceful, undisturbed—are your favorite.

You let out a contented sigh, your head resting against the solid strength of his chest. His heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear, soothing and grounding in a way only Logan can manage.

“You comfy, princess?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum softly, snuggling closer.

Logan’s hand drifts lazily up and down your back, tracing slow, soothing circles. He’s always touching you like this, his hands finding you almost instinctively, whether it’s to ground himself or to comfort you. Maybe it’s both.

“You’ve got the best hugs,” you murmur, your voice muffled against his chest.

Logan chuckles softly, the sound a deep, rumbling vibration against your cheek. “Yeah? Don’t tell anyone. Gotta keep my image intact.”

You laugh lightly, shifting to look up at him. His lips quirked in a rare smile, the kind only you ever see. Before you can say anything else, he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there like he’s savoring the moment.

Logan doesn’t say it, but you know this side of him—the warmth, the tenderness, the way he holds you like you’re the most important thing in the world—is something he reserves only for you. Around the others, he’s all scowls and clipped words, but in private, he’s the kind of man who craves touch like it’s air.

He didn’t always show it, though. Logan wasn’t the kind of man to give away pieces of himself so easily. It took a while to get that part of him. You vividly remember the first time he hugged you like this, back when he still had walls up, back when you weren’t sure what you meant to him.

You’d been having a rough day—a hard mission that made you doubt yourself, leaving you shaken and overwhelmed. You tried to hide it from everyone, retreating to the quiet safety of your room. But Logan noticed. He always noticed.

Without a word, he appeared in your doorway, his expression softer than usual but still guarded.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and gravelly.

At first, you nodded, trying to brush it off, but when he stepped closer and gently touched your arm, the dam broke. You let out a shaky breath, your eyes stinging, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him.

For a second, you thought he’d pull away—this was Logan, after all. But instead, his arms came around you, steady and sure, pulling you against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That was the first time you felt the magic of the Wolverine hug. His hold was strong but not overwhelming like he was shielding you from everything bad in the world. His hand ran soothingly up and down your back, his chin resting lightly on top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “I’ve got you.”

And he did. From that moment on, you realized that Logan wasn’t just a good hugger—he was the best. There was something about the way he held you like he could take all your worries and crush them with his strength. He didn’t need to say much; his arms said it all.

Now, it’s second nature. He doesn’t wait for an excuse to hold you—he pulls you into his lap while you’re reading, tangles himself around you when you’re in bed, and presses his face into your hair after a long day. His hands are always on you, whether it’s a comforting palm against your back, his fingers laced with yours, or his arm slung around your waist like he needs to keep you close. And you dare to say he loves it more than you.

After the sex, he’s especially clingy—not that you mind. Pulling you into his arms as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear, he will wrap himself around you completely. His lips leave lazy, soft, lingering open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, hair, collarbone, cheek—anywhere he can reach. Each one feels like a promise, a reminder that you’re his. He let his hands roam lazily, tracing patterns on your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“You feel so damn good, princess” he’ll whisper, his voice rough but tender. And the way he holds you in those moments like he never wants to let go, makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe.

And the way he looks at you in those moments? It’s enough to make your heart stop. His usual sharp, guarded gaze softens, filled with a quiet devotion he doesn’t show to anyone else.

Around the others, he’s all grumbles and scowls, pretending he’s not the same man who just kissed you senselessly an hour ago. He keeps his distance—at least, as much as he can.

Even in public, though, there are cracks in his armor. His hand will brush yours under the table or he’ll rest his palm on your thigh. Sometimes, when he thinks no one’s paying attention, you’ll catch him watching you with an intensity that makes your heart race.

The others might tease him for being overprotective, for always keeping an eye on you, but they don’t see the real Logan. They don’t see how he softens when he holds you or how he presses his forehead against yours like you’re the thing that saved him.

“Love you,” he murmurs now, his lips brushing against your hair. His voice is quiet like he’s not ready to say it too loudly, but the words hit you like a warm rush all the same.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, those dark, stormy eyes soft in the dim light. “Love you too,” you whisper, brushing a kiss against his jaw before settling back into his arms.

Logan presses another kiss to the top of your head, his hand slipping under the blanket to pull you closer. He holds you like you’re his anchor, his steady presence in a chaotic world.

And as you drift off in his arms, surrounded by his warmth and strength, the rest of the world feels small and far away—because with Logan, you’re home.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!