#not just because he laughed at neils joke

[jingerhead]

It's 2am. Neil's been doing homework for hours. Andrew's at the window smoking. It's quiet until Neil sniggers and says, "These damn numbers now have properties for their communities?"

Andrew just stares at him.

"Bit of a math joke for you," Neil says, going back to work.

[arminsumi]

Satoru simping for you and Suguru telling him to give up (lol)

Note : this is just crack i found in the drafts lol enjoy??

Warnings : 🔞 mdni / suggestive

Satoru grits his teeth and makes a frustrated growl. "Fuck. She's hot." he mutters under his breath.

He looks away from you, like it was just too much to handle.

Satoru turns to Suguru, "Suguru."

"Yeah?"

"Should I ask her for her number?"

"Who — her? Nahhh, she's out of your league." Suguru says.

"What the hell! you're supposed to be my supportive best friend."

"No — I'm a cunt first and foremost before anything." he jokes.

"Can't your cunty mouth manage a little pep-talk?"

"It would be disingenuous. Satoru, I don't think you should be messing around with the principle's daughter."

Satoru makes another frustrated growl.

"Fuckin' bullshit..." he grumbles under his breath. He looks away and sinks his hands into his pockets.

"Besides," suguru adds, "she's got a boyfriend."

"—and you only tell me this now?! After I've been pining after her ass for how long!!" Satoru seethes.

Satoru looks at you annoyedly, but still admiringly. Like a doting puppy.

"Fuck it! Boyfriends are temporary!"

"Calm down, Satoru. No need to let your morals degrade over some girl."

"She's not just some girl, Suguru! Fuck, just look at her."

"Give it up, man."

"Maybe you're deterring me so you can take her all for yourself."

"Oh my god, Satoru. you sound as insane as a conspiracy theorist."

"Maybe she's into conspiracy theorists! Hey, I'll go up to her and whisper all sexy into her ear; "ooh, baby you know the moon landing didn't happen~"

Satoru looks around searching for a way to make his joke funny.

"—but I'll be landing on your craters tonight for sure."

"OH MY GOD. Satoru. stop."

Satoru continues his bullshit.

""Can I rocket into your pussy, babygirl?""

"Stop."

Satoru's laughing like a seal and going red in the face. He keeps annoying his best friend with examples of his wacky pickup lines.

"Wanna know why they call me Neil Armstrong, baby?"

"Satoru, I don't know why we're friends."

"Bitch you love me!"

"This is why she's out of your league. Because you're a nutter and she's a normal person."

"How do you know! She might be a nutter too. Shit, or at least I'll make her into one... yeah... I'll make her crazyyyy for me."

"... Satoru, don't drive her nuts."

"Okay, I won't drive her nuts. I'll just let her suck on my nuts."

"What the hell (lol)?"

"Yo, listennnnn, one look from her makes my balls feel tight and full." Satoru admits unashamedly.

"Ough! Too much information!" Suguru grimaces.

"SHE MAKES MY DICK HARD SUGURU!"

"LALALA NOT LISTENING!" Suguru plugs his ears and gets up and leaves the cafeteria.

[indigovigilance]

The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death

read on Ao3

The final fifteen is obviously a major plot point, and serves a role in a story that was written long before Terry Pratchett was ever diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. But the scene itself wasn’t written until just a few years ago, during the writing of Season 2. In fact, the scene came about during a park bench conversation between Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore.

Others have noted that the non-romantic kiss that signals the story moving into the third act is a Neil Gaiman staple. The function of such a kiss, from Gaiman’s perspective, is to communicate.

In 2023 we are seeing a lot of stories written by men, for men, about men who are best friends and discover that their friendship can go deeper than the norms of society would usually allow; that platonic and romantic love are not so far apart, and perhaps the better word for a relationship that can be described this way is intimacy.

Neil Gaiman has made it clear in interviews that his friendship with Terry Pratchett was deeply intimate. They began collaborating on what would become Good Omens in the 1980’s, endured a tumultuous experience together through the first publication, wherein Neil offered to martyr himself on behalf of Terry if the book failed, and then spent the better part of two decades touring the world, meeting the people who loved their work. Neil would even off-handedly remark that Terry’s fans were so cheerful, and Neil’s seemed like they were ready to kill themselves; wouldn’t it be nice if they got married? From the outside, it looks very much as if Terry was Aziraphale-coded, and Neil was Crowley-coded, working together in an unexpected partnership to make the world a little bit more tolerable for the humans inhabiting it. I am not conjecturing that Neil and Terry had romantic inclinations the way their fictional characters do, but I think it is fair to say that their opposites-attract intimacy became an important part of who each of them were.

In 2007 Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy, a rare form of Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, he began to lose himself, and knew that the person he used to be was slipping away. He wanted to end his life on his own terms, and die as himself, but England did not and still does not allow for voluntary euthanasia or assisted suicide. He advocated for the right to die but never achieved it, and ultimately succumbed to the disease in 2015. Neil Gaiman has spoken a lot on the topic of death, and one answer of his that resonated with me reads:

Mostly it feels terrible. It even feels terrible when it’s someone who has been in a lot of pain for a long time or has not really been there for a long time and you know that Death has in some ways been a blessing: suddenly you are mourning the whole person. 

It doesn’t get easier as you age. It gets stranger. The point where you realise how many people you used to know and like who aren’t there any longer, and you cannot talk to them or see them or laugh with them is painful in a way that I had never expected. The first time that someone you had a romantic relationship with dies and you realise that there had been moments both of you shared and now you are the sole custodian of those moments and one day you will be gone and they will be lost forever is peculiarly strange and hard. 

~~~

The entire show is seeded with references to Terry Pratchett, but the most important one is the one that’s missing. Neil Gaiman cameoed as a sleeping moviegoer in S1E4, but a long time ago, he and Terry had discussed cameoing as sushi restaurant-goers, because sushi was weirdly prominent in the book. That cameo would have been in S1E1. But when it came time to do it, Neil couldn’t. Not without Terry. 

Neil: I was gonna say our location is a Chinese restaurant we’d had turned into a sushi restaurant. So Terry and I, Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it.

Douglas: You never told me this before either. I might have pushed you into doing it, had I known. I think you were right not to tell me.

Neil: I was keeping it to me self ‘cause I was always like: Oh, maybe I’ll be… this will be my cameo. And then I couldn’t. I was just so sad, ‘cause Terry wasn’t there. And it was probably the day that I missed Terry the most of all of the filming - it was just this one scene ‘cause it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

~~~

In the Final Fifteen, it is clear that Crowley and Aziraphale want to stay together. They love each other. They each know that the other loves them. There’s nothing that needs to be said, no convincing that their bond is true and real and precious.

But Aziraphale has to go to Heaven, and Crowley cannot follow him there.

I cannot speculate what it must have been like for Neil to endure losing a friend who, though I’m sure he desperately wanted to still be in his life, he also knew that life had become a burden to him, and grieved that Terry was not able to choose the time and manner of his departure from this Earth. This sort of complex grief, we fan-ficcers know, is the kind that is often best processed through story-telling. 

I think that what we see Crowley going through in the Final Fifteen, alongside its importance to the story arc of Good Omens overall, is Neil processing his grief at losing his friend Terry Pratchett, and even the kiss, that violent, terrible, awful kiss, was the symbolic representation of Neil saying goodbye.

[palmettoshenanigans]

I present to you all: The Most OOC Andreil Headcanon I Hold Dear To My Chesticles

Andrew doesn't get jealous. Instead he gets unbearably smug. How?

He's pretty much the only one who can make Neil laugh freely. He begins to crack jokes in public on purpose. I did that, he thinks all smug and proud and staring and memorizing and basking and

Neil has several smiles, some small like his My Foxes smile, some he wipes off his face like his I Get It From My Dad smile. But his best smile is his My Drew Smile, and Andrew takes great satisfaction in making it appear where others can see. I did that, he thinks all self satisfied while he preens and stares and

Neil doesn't really care for too many non-practical things as gifts. The Foxes have mastered buying him things he'll actually enjoy - Exy gear, running shoes, some secret third thing I can't think of. But Andrew? Andrew realized that anything he gets Neil is an instant hit. Especially if Andrew made it himself. Cue Andrew getting into woodworking and making Neil wooden trinkets - mini foxes and mini rabbits and mini exy rackets. Andrew wins every Gift Giving Spectacle when Neil gets that Look on his face: not just delight but utter Cherish. I did that, Andrew thinks all proud while he breathes it in and stares and cherishes right back and

Andrew gets smug about Making Neil Happy and shows off his Skills to all these other losers with their skill issues because Look, I can make someone happy. I make him happy. I did that. I did that. I do that.

[mypoisonedvine]

virgin neil lewis with 11: “fuck, do that again... please."

your work is so fucking good i LOVE it

thank you so much love!! i got so many amazing neil requests but I love the idea of virgin neil c: kinda made him an incel lowkey...

warnings: noncon sexual content (18+ only!!), perv!neil, grinding, neil being a creepy nice guy with 0 stamina (aka my exact type)

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

Neil could be a little bit... well... touchy.

You mostly didn't mind it. It was just his way of being friendly and he usually made you laugh with the way he would randomly hug you from behind or tickle you or playfight you just to hold you down.

Every once in a while it would get weird, but not too weird; just his dorky, goofy sense of humor taking a jokingly-horny turn.

Well, you thought he was joking.

Like, for example, today—when you were on the couch arguing over what to watch (a common occurrence).

“No way,” he shook his head, “it’s shlock!”

“Just because it had a big budget doesn’t mean it’s shlock!” you defended.

“Oh yeah?” he challenged with a smirk.  “Just read the box!”

He snatched the DVD case out of your hands, flipping it to read the back as you tried to pull it away from him.

“In a world,” he began reading the synopsis in a deep, dramatic voice.  “See?  No good movie starts its premise with in a world—”

“Shut up!” you whined.  “Reading the back is cheating!  Gimme it!”

You leaned over him, trying to grab it, but his arms were longer; he held it up high and tilted his head back to keep reading: “In a world devastated by nuclear war—”

“You’d like it if you gave it a chance!” you insisted.  You couldn’t reach as high as him from where you were sitting, so you thoughtlessly hopped into his lap and lifted yourself up to get closer.  He yanked it away again, leaning to the side and watching you as you laughed and groaned and tried to get it away from him.  “You just need to see it, then you’d like it!”

Three things happened at once, right then: you moved to try to get the DVD from him, twisting yourself in his lap; his other hand grabbed suddenly and tightly onto your hip; and he stopped laughing.

You didn’t really notice it at first, just happy you managed to snatch the case from him.  You only really realized something was different when you looked at him with a smug grin which fell quickly.  “Neil?”

His lip was between his teeth, and his face was a little flushed.

“Neil, what’s wrong?” you wondered, relaxing on top of him, which only made you put more pressure against his— oh.

“Fuck,” he breathed, holding your hips with both hands now, “do that again… please.”

“What the fuck?!” you snapped.  “Are you— is that—?”

You tried to get off of him, but he was holding you down.  Your face flushed as you suddenly felt self-conscious about everything you’d done— about wearing these tiny lounge shorts, about getting in his lap, about coming over to see him at all.  He rocked his hips slightly under you, and you whimpered as you understood, without a doubt, that he was rubbing his erection right against you through his pants.  You could feel it throbbing, even.  You weren’t sure what was worse: the possibility that he got that hard that fast because you were in his lap, or that he’d been hard before when you two were just hanging out.

“Let me go, Neil,” you demanded, but your voice was weak and shaking; he ignored you, looking down at you in his lap as he moved you on top of him.  “Neil, stop—”

“Fuck,” he sighed, “you’re warm.”

He did it again, again; you felt sick and strange and sort of numb as he held you tighter, groaning under his breath.  “This isn’t funny,” you whined, “this is—what the fuck, dude—”

“Sorry,” he panted, moving you faster over him, and you grimaced as you were forced to feel the details of his cock against your pussy.  It was disturbing, really, how well you could feel it with these clothes in the way: you could feel the ridge of his head, the shape and thickness of his shaft…

You swallowed, blinking quickly, not really believing that this was happening—this couldn’t be happening, right?  Not to you, not with Neil, it just didn’t make sense.  “Stop,” you begged again, quieter yet more desperate than ever.

“I will, I will,” he promised, “I’m so close— I’m almost done, then I’ll stop— fuck!”

He tossed his head back, and you felt it flexing.  You watched in shock, confusion, and disgust as a small stain began to form on his shorts, hot come soaking through the fabric as his chest rose and fell quickly while he caught his breath.

You were speechless, and confused, and you had pins and needles all over as you tried to convince yourself that didn’t just happen— that your ‘friend’ hadn’t just used you to come, holding you down and rubbing you against him.  You’d felt so helpless and dirty… so why was there a wet patch in your own shorts, not from coming but from unsatisfied arousal?

His grip relaxed on your hips, and you could get up, but you were still frozen.  If you moved now, you might have to acknowledge that this was real. 

“Okay,” he smiled, still breathing a bit heavy, eyes still shut with relief, “we can watch your movie now.”

[hopelessrromantix]

kinktober day 10 boot riding

daddy kink, amab reader yes ill post the missing days i swear sjdkf

cis women dni

The longer you stayed at a party, the more boring it got.

Sure, getting drunk and high and fucking around with your classmates was a good time. But after hours of huddling together with sweaty drugged up teenagers and having generic music blasted into your ears, it got a bit boring.

But Billy always found a way to make it more entertaining. Normally by pulling off a rather impressive keg stand. For once, he’d offered to be the designated driver (mostly because you’d done it for the past four parties and refused to do it again), so you were downing your second drink, talking to some junior you barely knew. The buzz of a high was clouding your head, though it wasn’t enough to impair your judgment.

But apparently your boyfriend felt like pissing you off tonight.

Eventually the junior wandered off, probably to flirt with someone interested. Billy, on the other hand, was chatting up some girl from your math class. You didn’t remember her name, but you most certainly remembered the way she talked to Billy.

She gave a fake laugh, making sure to lean forward and give him a decent view of her cleavage. Not that you blamed her for trying to sleep with your boyfriend. Billy was pretty, and it’s not like she knew he had a boyfriend. So no, you didn’t hold any resentment toward the girl.

Billy, on the other hand, was in a world of hurt.

He had every chance to turn her down. Every chance to make up some half-assed excuse or just plain tell her he wasn’t into it. But no. He joked and gave her some cheesy pick-up line. The brat even had the nerve to look your way while he was doing so, giving you a wink.

You watched for a minute longer, waiting for him to make some excuse to leave. But when it was obvious he had no plans of doing so, you decided to step in for him.

“C’mon Hargrove, you’re my ride home.” Luckily your head was clear enough to make walking out easy.

Billy frowned, trying to look as disappointed as possible. “Already? But I was having fun!” The girl next to him looked sad as well, as if begging you to let him stay longer.

“Sorry, I gotta get up early tomorrow,” You said, shrugging. Tomorrow was Saturday, neither you nor Billy had anything to do. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Fine, buzzkill.”

Billy, tap dancing on your last nerve, gave the girl a wink, causing her to let out an airy giggle. You rolled your eyes, stomping out of the house. You could hear Billy mumble what was most certainly a sarcastic comment under his breath.

You sat in the passenger seat the second he opened the door, waiting as he slid into the driver’s seat a second later.

After a second of him realizing you weren’t going to speak, he started driving, the music from the party fading into the background as he did so.

“Your mom and that bastard home?” You knew the answer was no. He’d made quite a big deal about getting the house to himself while Neil dragged his step-mom and Max on a ‘family outing’. Even with Max asking, Billy was left home alone.

“No, why?” He asked, glancing over to you before his eyes returned to the road. He was perfectly aware of ‘why’, you knew that much.

“Gonna let me stay over, pretty boy?” You asked, your tone low. He nodded, quickly taking a turn to head toward his house.

The trip was short and Billy got out of the car almost immediately after you arrived. You chuckled at how eager he was, fumbling with his keys in an attempt to get in quicker.

You followed closely, heading to Billy’s room without much hesitation.

The second you got in, you closed the door, pressing Billy up against a wall.

“You got some fuckin’ nerve, Hargrove,” you spoke quietly and quickly, though you knew he heard you from how he shivered. “You tryna get my attention, or just tryna whore around with some poor girl, hm?”

He shook his head rapidly, gulping down a breath.

Billy tried his hand at being a brat often. Always teasing you, getting your attention in public. But the second you were behind closed doors, he practically melted.

“Words, baby boy.”

“No, Daddy.”

God he knew what buttons to press.

“Then why were you flirting?” You spoke softly, loving how his eyes glazed over with lust when you did so. “Giving her hope for no reason. That just seems mean, baby.”

He made a noise of disagreement, shaking his head again. “Didn’t mean to, just wanted your attention.”

You chuckled. “No, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you slammed your lips into his before he could. You took over the kiss quickly. His arms twined around your neck, one of yours on his hip and the other gripping his hair. You gave a soft tug to his hair, forcing a loud moan out of his throat.

You slotted one thigh between his legs, giving him the chance to messily rut against you. Both your pants were tight, his jeans no doubt uncomfortable at this point.

“Pleeease just fuck me.” He was practically begging, arms tightening around you. “Please, I’m sorry for flirting with her, I won’t do it again.”

You both knew damn well he’d do it again.

“I don’t think I feel like forgiving you yet, baby.” He huffed at your words, hips still moving against your clothed thigh.

“How about this,” You suggested. You placed your hands on his shoulders, lowering him to his knees and placing your boot between his legs. “You cum in under two minutes, and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t remember your damn name.”

He nodded rapidly, head collapsing into your leg.

He moved his hands towards his jeans, only stopping when you firmly questioned what he was doing.

"I can't use my hands?" He asked, looking slightly hopeful. As if he'd get off that easy.

“If you really want me to fuck you, you can cum like this.”

He paused for a moment. “Like ‘this’?”

You smirked, tilting his head up slightly with one finger. “You think you can cum in your jeans for me?”

He shivered, nodding fervently.

"Good boy."

He started off slow, moving his hips against the firm leather of your boot. It was just enough stimulation for his sensitive cock. He was burying his face into your jeans, mouthing at your dick over the fabric. You just let him, watching as he desperately tried to get you to force your cock down his throat.

"One minute left." He whimpered.

His thrusts sped up, messily humping your boot in an attempt to get off. Barely decipherable mumbles of "please" "Daddy" and "more" tumbled out his lips, the words jumbled together and high pitched.

"You gonna cum, whore?" You asked, spitting out the term as if it was his name. He moaned, nodding.

"Please can I? Please Daddy? Wanna cum for you so you'll fuck me, please?"

You'd barely said yes before he buried his face into your thigh, hips stuttering and slowing. Cum slowly seeped through the fabric of his boxers, and suddenly he was thankful you'd waited until he was home to ruin him.

"Good job handsome," you said, leaving down and placing a surprisingly soft kiss on his forehead. "You get your reward now."

He was practically buzzing already.

[odiesdayoff]

Fly Boy

Pair: Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader

Summary: Frustrated with Neil's rule about the employees being required to cosplay, you decide to mess with him.

Warnings: SMUT; 18+; Neil is a bit pathetic and mean at points; he can't find the clit but has a big dick lol

“Surely, you’ve seen something by Milos Foreman.” Neil held a stack of VHS that needed to be reset. It was mostly older stuff, you saw the worn copy of Persona in the middle. He and Jonathan had a heated argument (or discussion, as they referred to it) about why the customer would stop watching in the middle, but you understood. Only the men deeply involved in film could possibly enjoy something so bad. Too trained to think black and white meant that it was a good movie automatically. 

You shrugged, continuing to put the tapes on the shelf. “Never heard of him.” Paisa slid in right next to the edge of the shelf and The Red and The White. Only this place would have a section dedicated to foreign language war films. Like it would kill him to buy a copy of Shrek 2.

He nearly dropped the tapes on the counter and looked at you as if you just admitted to a horrible crime. “How have you never heard of him? One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest? The Fireman’s Ball? ” Just because you heard of the movie didn’t mean you knew every production assistant’s name. You watched movies for fun. They just weren’t your taste.

“More like The Fireman’s Balls.” You stifled a laugh at your own joke, though Neil was far from impressed or amused at all.

He put a tape into the rewinder and shook his head. “We’re gonna fix that. This Saturday.”

“Can’t do this Saturday.” He continued his quite bewildered stare at you. Of course, he forgot. “It’s your little Star Wars marathon night.”

He nodded with realization. “Right.”

His slight frown made you feel guilty, as it always did. Somehow, the grown man always managed to use puppy eyes on you successfully. “We’ll watch them. Soon.” He continued to rewind the tapes with a smile.

Star Wars wasn’t exactly your cup of tea. Boring was the descriptive term that rested on the tip of your tongue whenever the topic was brought up in the store. Not that you would ever admit that out loud. All three of them gave you a college-level lecture when you suggested that the Chanel boots-wearing Luke might have been into men. God forbid you had fun.

The costumes for women were slim, at least they were on Amazon. Your options were Padme, Leia, Rey, or some random obscure character from a show or cartoon you’d never heard of. A part of you wanted to make felt ears and be Jar Jar Binks just to piss them off.

There was still a way to mess with them, Neil especially. Hopefully, the extra you paid for overnight shipping was worth it and actually pulled through. 

By Saturday, you walked into Gumshoe with a large coat covering your costume. You braided your hair to the best of your abilities, trying to get as accurate as possible. The fabric of the costume was uncomfortable, digging into your skin and surely leaving marks you’d feel for days after.

Nerds crowded the small store, much more than usual. It was events like this one that made you reconsider your employment and how much you were a fan of movies in general. A Darth Vader brushed by you with a red solo cup of beer. Not many women were there, other than a few of the regulars dressed as Padme and Ahsoka. 

Neil, in Han Solo’s iconic white shirt with the navy blue vest (the version from Return of the Jedi ), waved you over to join the couch with him, Jonathan, and Lucian. A New Hope was in the VHS player and ready to start, the original cut before George Lucas made revisions of course. He was so proud of winning the Etsy bid for the original set of VHS tapes. 

You dropped the coat as you walked over and draped it on the front counter, locking eyes with the group as the costume was finally revealed: The bikini Leia wears at the beginning of Return of the Jedi. A part of you was anxious about the amount of skin you were showing and the people who were staring daggers into you. All you cared about was Neil’s reaction.

None of them said a word as you sat down on the couch next to them. “So, when’s this movie going to start?” Three pairs of eyes just looked back at you, more specifically, how your breasts bounced when you sat down and the thin straps that held the cloth that covered your panties. All you wore to work were t-shirts and jeans, along with the occasional tank top that left much to the imagination. You leaned over to the table and took the can of beer that Neil had been drinking, bringing it to your lips.

Neil cleared his throat. “Um, right now, actually.” He called everyone to the couches and rug, made a quick introduction to the night and thanked everyone for coming, then started the movie. You couldn’t help but notice the way his hands were clasped in front of his crotch and the bulge he was trying to hide.

Another person, dressed as Obi-Wan Kenobi in the third film, sat next to you. Only fifteen minutes in, he did the classic “fake yawn” in order to wrap his arm around your shoulders. He wasn’t slick, but as much as you noticed the attempt at flirting, Neil did as well. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning his attention back to the movie and trying not to make his glances towards you too obvious.

The can of beer didn’t last you too long, only until they were in the trash compactor. There was no way that you would get through the rest of these movies sober and a half-can of beer wasn’t going to get you there.

You got up and walked to the storage closet, where you knew that a full case of beer was hidden. Finally alone, you pulled out a can and opened it, allowing the lukewarm liquid to coat your throat. The beer was still a bit disgusting, but it got the job done. “What the fuck are you wearing, Princess?”

Neil stood in the doorway, closing the door behind him. You shrugged, even though you knew that he knew you were getting to him on purpose. “I’m participating. You never let me live down the Lord of the Rings night when I wore my regular clothes.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to whore yourself out and wear practically nothing.”

“It’s accurate, not whoring out. Are you mad that I’m wearing it or that people are looking at me in it? What is it, Fly-boy?” You crossed your arms, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and creating more cleavage than there already was.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, Y/n.” His hands cupped your cheeks and he pulled you in, crashing his lips against yours. It was a side of him you’d never seen before, his eyes were dark and only focused on you. Your back hit the wall and Neil’s hands traveled lower, pulling the string that held the bra together and ripping fabric until it fell to the floor.

“Now, beg me to fuck you like the whore that you’ve been parading yourself as all night. I know that’s what you want.” His hot breath burned your neck as he trailed his lips from your mouth to your collarbone. His words cut deeply, like nothing you’d expect to come from his mouth. Who knew sweet Neil could turn into this?

You nodded. “Please, Neil. I need you to fuck me. I’ve wanted you for so long.” He moaned against your skin as you spoke and hastily unbuckled his belt, freeing his aching cock. You untied the bottom of your costume and dropped your panties with it.

His chest pressed against yours and you winced as the cold wall came in contact with your bare skin. He wasted no time in lining his tip with your entrance and pushing in, softly moaning into your neck. “You’re so warm. You’re not a whore, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Fuck.”

So, he really was all talk. Once he felt the touch of a woman, he became a needy mess. “It’s okay, Neil. Just, ah!” It was now that you finally understood the saying about nerdy boys and the size of their cocks, feeling him hit spots you didn’t know existed. You only hoped that the ongoing battle within whatever galaxy or solar system was louder than both of your unholy gasps and moans.

You would never hear the end of it if Jonathan or Lucian heard. They gave you enough shit for Neil’s unbelievably obvious crush on you that you chose to avoid on behalf of keeping peace in the store. Clearly, you had failed miserably in that aspect. Look at Neil’s cute face.

Not to mention his cock. The same cock currently driving into you and knocking the wind from your lungs. Neil fucked into you like he was on a time limit, chasing his climax and nearly sinking his teeth into your bare shoulder. “Your tits are mesmerizing.” You held back a laugh at his comment, reaching down to your clit before he slapped your hand away. “No, let me do it.”

A part of you wanted to deny it, but you let him. He blindly reached down and rubbed your labia, thinking he was on the money. You squeezed your eyes shut and gently guided his fingers to your clit, jolting when he found the right spot. “Oh, Neil…so good.”

His pace slowed and became less controlled. “I’m so close, sweetheart.”

“You’ll pull out, right?” He bit his lip and nodded. By the way he held tightly onto your hips and breathed in your scent, you knew that he barely heard your request.

The suspicion turned into fact when he stilled, pushing himself further into you as he came. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll pay for the pill. You’re just…so warm.”

You nodded along with him, not caring as you crossed the finish line as well. As you both came down from the high, the realization kicked in. He tucked himself in his boxers and buttoned his pants. You picked up your shirt, well, bra. The straps were broken. “Shit, Neil. I can’t wear this.”

He furrowed his brows, then rummaged through one of the boxes in the corner of the room. A large, baby blue t-shirt with the Gumshoe logo on it was in his hands. “Put this on. Say you got too cold.”

You caught the shirt and put it on, watching the fabric fall to your knees. “Great.”

“You still look sexy.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked you up and down.

You rolled your eyes. “What does Leia say to Han Solo? Nerf-Herder? You’re that."

[rigginsstreet]

i beg you don't embarrass me, motherfucker

the upside of dating steve harrington was that he was hot as shit.

the downside of dating steve harrington was that he was hot as shit. and also kind of a bitch.

it's billy's fault, really. he should've known better when dating a guy nicknamed king.

the one good thing about being gay in indiana, though, is that secrecy is a requirement, which billy doesn't have a problem with. the thought of publicly displaying his affections makes his skin crawl. he's got no problem doing it with the girls he pretends to be interested in because that's all it is - pretend.

but when he really means that shit... it's a harder pill to swallow.

and none of this really bodes well with steve harrington's style of dating. billy knows from his brief overlap of being in town while harrington and wheeler were still a happy item that the guy likes to be clingy, needs constant attention and validation of his affections and he wants to put it all on display for the world to see. and billy can't give that to him.

so he goes looking for it elsewhere.

the one good thing about being gay in indiana is the secrecy, but that rule doesn't extend to billy's sister or his best friend.

heather was never supportive of billy's taste in men. warned him plenty of times that steve was a dick and a leopard doesn't change its spots. but billy had waved of all concerns by saying they weren't even in a serious relationship and that heather didn't know steve like he did. heather and steve hated each other, of course she was gonna see the worst in him.

max was supportive. at first. until dustin started coming around with stories of steve and the new girls he was picking up, gloating about him like he was some golden god of women. and max would come fuming into billy's room asking if he knew about this shit, and billy would sigh and explain to her that it was just steve keeping up appearances to throw the scent off their trail.

"oh, is that why he had his tongue down tina's throat?" max accused.

and billy would have to pretend like he wasn't embarrassed. like he was in on the joke.

the thing with billy is that he doesn't let himself fall often, because when he does it's like a ten ton boulder down the side of a steep cliff. and shame isn't a color he wears well. he's gotten enough of that for a lifetime from neil, and since he's thankfully fucked off now, billy doesn't want to face it ever again.

which is maybe why he snaps at tommy's party.

he came here with steve, but now he's currently watching him dance with some chick with ten pounds of hair and double the makeup. laughing his preppy little ass off as she gyrates her dainty little lady parts all over him.

and yeah, billy can handle a bitchy attitude and some temper tantrums. and he can even wave off vague flirtations that he only hears about secondhand.

but this shit? right in front of his face? that's where he draws a line in the sand.

so he crumples the red plastic cup in his hand, not caring that beer spills out from the top, spotting the hagans' carpet, and throws it full force at the wall beside him, causing those nearby to jump, probably wondering what the hell set him off, if there's gonna be some grand billy hargrove performance.

but no. they'll just have to make due watching his ass walk out the door.

-

billy's sitting on the steps outside his house the next day, smoking a cigarette, when the beemer pulls up.

it's half expected, half not. billy braces himself for a fight anyway.

"you ditched me last night," is what steve says once he's up the sidewalk, a few feet in front of billy. he doesn't sound mad really. maybe a little offended.

billy sucks on his cigarette. blows out the smoke, his eyes never leaving steve. "got hit by a sudden wave of nausea," he says. "didn't wanna ralph in front of the party. didn't think you'd notice."

"why wouldn't i notice? we came together. i was looking all over for you."

billy shrugs, taking another pull of his smoke. "you seemed preoccupied."

it looks like steve's playing a tape in his head of the previous night, trying to pinpoint what exactly the fuck billy's talking about until it must finally click. "man, are you talking about that thing with cindy?" he laughs. like billy's fucking joshing him. "that was nothing!"

billy finishes his smoke, flicking it into the grass before standing up. "yeah, well, it something to me." he turns to walk up the steps, leaving this conversation - and steve - behind, but he's stopped with a hand on his arm.

"aw, billy, c'mon-"

"don't!" billy spins around, hands shoving steve square in the chest. watches his face go from jovial to nervous in two seconds flat.

good. the prick should be fucking nervous.

"you think you can walk around doing whatever the fuck you want like you own this town, but guess what? you don't! and you sure as shit don't own me!"

steve watches him with wide eyes, clearly out of his depth. this isn't the meeting he came here for. billy doesn't really give a shit. "billy, i-"

"i stood up for you, motherfucker," billy seethes, shoving steve again with two pointed fingers. "you know how many times heather's tried getting me to leave your ass alone? how many times max has threatened to castrate you because you can't keep it in your fucking pants?"

"i haven't slept with anyone else!"

"i don't care!" billy bellows. he's making a fucking scene. he hopes the neighbors aren't home. "i'm prime fucking real estate, baby! back in cali i had guys lining up the fucking block to get a piece of this! you think i just give this up to anybody?" steve opens his mouth, but billy cuts him off. "don't answer that! i defended you, asshole. and you make me look like a fucking idiot."

"i didn't think you cared..." steve says after a moment of stunned silence.

and that stuns billy. but he recovers quickly. "of course i fucking care. i wouldn't be doing this-" he gestures between the two of them, "-if i didn't."

"well you don't exactly express feelings very well." it's mostly teasing, billy thinks, but still that undercurrent of signature harrington bitch. "but-" he takes a step closer. "-if you're serious about this, then i am, too." another step.

"i swear to god if i have to sit through an 'i told you so' speech from maxine or heather because of some shit you pull-"

"is this your way of saying you love me?" steve grins, all cocksure and obnoxious, closing the distance until he and billy are standing toe to toe.

"don't press your luck," billy breathes in the space between them. "i'm serious, steve. i don't do thi- this is new for me, alright? and, i don't know if you've noticed, but i don't really handle rejection well."

"yeah, no shit," steve chuckles. "i'll be on my best behavior from now on. scout's honor." he holds up the three finger scout salute in mockery, but billy thinks, hopes, there's a sincerity in his eyes that he can hold him to.

billy rolls his eyes, mainly at himself for wanting to kiss the idiot right now. he almost does, too, until he remembers where they are and prying eyes could be watching.

he settles for another shove, this time to steve's shoulder, before turning back towards the house. "c'mon," he says, nodding his head towards the door. "nobody's home. you can give me a proper apology."

billy hears footsteps behind him before he even gets his whole sentence out.

[darthannie]

thursday night out

2.1k / neil lewis x f!reader

Pairing: Neil Lewis x f!reader Summary: Neil can't sleep and neither can you. A late night conversation leads to revelations. Warnings: 18+, minors dni. fluff, no use of y/n, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort if you squint really hard, Neil cries because of course a/n: I'm a lil rusty y'all but I had to take matters into my own hands.

You were absolutely restless in bed. You had come home from the bar your friend Jonathan worked at, Balanza, after needing some liquid comfort and a close friend. He was one of four. Your little group was all you needed, but more recently it was feeling like three. You, Neil, Lucien, and Jonathan were basically inseparable as you all emerged into adulthood together.

Now, you all found a little bit of community at Gumshoe Video, your and Neil’s video store. It wasn’t much but it was what you and Neil cared about the most. It was your baby, so to speak. Yet another thing that kept you and Neil stuck to each other’s sides. 

Neil was special. He had gone through it all with you. When you were in high school together you both skipped school dances and watched movies all night long while getting drunk on whatever was close by. You had comforted each other through numerous breakups, spent many long nights taking care of each other when the other was sick, and now ran a video store together. Growing up, your parents would make jokes about how you would end up together. Neil thought that was the funniest thing ever. “What a cliche.”, Neil would say. You would always laugh and agree but deep down, there was a piece of you that resented his indifference. It was only natural that you both felt something for each other, right? Neil was your rock and you were his. 

But nevertheless, Neil was seeing someone. At least you thought he was. It wasn’t totally clear what was going on, but you knew when he wasn’t at the video store he was running around with her. That left you, Lucien, and Jonathan to hold down the fort. This always happened when Neil got involved with a girl and it always left you feeling… odd. You never wanted to admit it but you had been in love with him for years. Brushing off that feeling was the only way you could disconnect. 

This constant yearning was exhausting but you just wanted to see Neil happy. Only now, you couldn’t tell if he was happy. He had been a bit secretive about the girl he was seeing. If you knew Neil, he was in over his head. Whenever you saw him at the shop he seemed drained and a bit stressed, but he never stayed long. He’d say, “I’m gonna go in about an hour. We’re getting dinner tonight, I think?” I think, was the key phrase. His remarks were rooted in confusion. Maybe his status with this mystery girl wasn’t so solid. You had hoped, for his sake, something good would come out of this. You couldn’t bear to see him hurt again.

After some overthinking, you were finally getting a bit drowsy. Right as you were about to drift off your ringtone shocked you awake. You answered it before you could check the name and heard a familiar voice on the other line. “Hey”, Neil said. “Can I come over? I can’t sleep” The clock on your nightstand read 1:34 AM. “Yeah sure what’s u-“ 

He hung top on you and within a couple of seconds, there was a knock at the door.

You scurried out of bed and headed towards the door. You weren’t prepared for what met you on the other side of the door. It was Neil, of course, but he looked sad. His eyes were puffy and red. He looked like he had been crying for hours. He looked exhausted. It took you a second before you realized you had been staring. You moved to the side and silently gestured for him to come in. 

He went right past you and towards the couch, face-planting into the cushions. He groaned and you stood over him for a moment before squatting down to his level. “Neil?” You heard a sniffle come from him and he turned to face you. Even now, he was just as gorgeous as every other time you saw him. Handsome in a classic sense. You fought every urge not to brush the hair away from his eyes but eventually, you gave in. You reached out and he closed his eyes after feeling your touch. “Neil, what’s going on?” 

“Jonathan and I got into a fight. Well, not like a fight fight. We just argued a bit and I got pissed and left.”

You removed your hand from his face. That was the last thing you expected to hear. There was never any conflict in your friend group that went beyond friendly film debates, but you were waiting for the shoe to drop. You had spent your time at Balanza tonight blabbing to Jonathan about how annoying It was that Neil was never around whenever he started seeing someone. He pushed you about it you admitted it was because you had liked him for years. Jonathan laughed “Well no duh! I could smell that shit from a mile away. You guys already treat each other like you’re married.” And he was right. There were things you and Neil did that felt like you were married. Apart from movie nights, you had spent time cooking dinner for each other, taken a couple of trips together, and confided in each other about everything. Your bond was unbreakable. 

You were thinking about what to say when Neil interrupted your fractured thought process. 

“I was at Balanza tonight, thought I’d go in for a quick drink, you know? And I got to talkin’ with Jonathan and he mentioned how you had been there a bit before me and how I’d just missed you. I thought was weird because you always told me if you were going so we could go together. Plus you’d told me you were going straight home after closing up the store. But anyway, he started joking about you and me. I mean, what the fuck right?”

You briefly paused before responding, “What did he say about us exactly?”  

Neil sat up before he began his story, gesturing as he began, “He made a quip asking where my ball and chain was and I said “What ball and chain?” and he said you. It kinda took me aback. And really annoyed me because you would never be a ball and chain, you know. And somehow he started going on about how I should maybe be a better friend.” Your heart sank. He continued, “He said I should be more “mindful” about our relationship and I thought what the fuck, you know. I know he doesn’t really have a way with words but, god, how cryptic. Who says that? Especially about us. We’re close, right? Super close! No one really gets it!” Subconsciously or not he now had your hand in his.

“Our friendship is special you know. It means the world to me and to have that questioned made me a bit upset. Then it really got me thinking. Have I not been paying attention to you lately? Then, I started thinking about all the things I’ve been doing recently. Spending time with you know who, which by the way isn’t happening anymore.”

In all honestly, you didn’t really know who. You’d only seen her a couple of times. You interrupted him, asking what he meant.

“I broke things off with her. She was, frankly, insane, and as fun as it was it was just that. Fun. Unsustainable. Unstable. Plus, I was barely meeting up with the group. Fewer movie nights. Less time at the store. Less time together. And I thought, fuck maybe I have been a shit friend. And now that I don’t have her in my life I feel like I can actually see clearly.”

He finally took a pause and looked you in the eyes. You were stunned. Neil was always a talker but it was rare he got this candid about his relationships. When you were younger, he’d tell you almost everything, but now he rarely ever spoke about his escapades and you were grateful for it. Just when you thought it was over, he continued. 

“So, I was so fed up with Jonathan I didn’t even finish my beer. I just left. I got home and tried everything to shake the guilty feeling off of me but nothing worked. I did a- a cold shower and even made some tea. I tried to watch City Lights, but I couldn’t.”

That was your and Neil’s favorite film. You had watched it the first time when you stayed home from junior prom. You both started off by doing voices for the characters and by the end you were both touched by the film. Ever since then, that was the film you both watched when you couldn’t think of anything better for movie night. It became a ritual that wordlessly brought you closer. 

“I got really restless and upset. So, I thought I would just call you.” He broke eye contact for a moment, and you could’ve sworn he looked at your lips before making eye contact again. 

Your voice was light, “But you got here before you called.”

He shrugged, “I just got in the car and started driving.”

You chuckled at his response. “Well you know you’re always welcome.” He smiled at you before he let it falter. He seemed to hesitate before he continued talking. The shoe was about to drop.

“ I, ah. There was something I left out of the story.”

You swallowed before asking, “What?” 

“Jonathan told me about… you and… Probably not everything but he told me.” It dropped.

There was a moment of silence as the tension between the two of you grew. Your world was crashing down. You’d have a word with Jonathan soon, call him a jackass for betraying your trust. You wanted to speak and deny everything, but nothing came out. 

He spoke first. “How long?”

Without hesitation, you replied “Years.” 

He sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. He muttered what you thought was fuck under his breath, but you preferred not to listen. All you could feel was the pain in your chest as you prepared to have your heart broken. Tears started to fall before you could stop them and a small whimper left you. He wiped your tears away and leaned forward again. You were now sitting on the ground as he sat over you on the couch. Neil felt a couple tears of his own begin to fall. You both sat for a moment. His silence made it hurt even more. You were ready for his rejection to slap you in the face. The sting would last long after, you thought. You heard him speak up softly, “So you… you feel it too?” 

You hesitated, “Feel what exactly?”

He laughed at himself and clarified, “You know this, um, tugging feeling in your heart when it feels like it’s trying to tell you something.” 

You avoided his gaze, “Yeah.”

You looked down at your hands. Your fingers were now interlaced with his. Space had closed between the two of you and it was getting hard to breathe. Your heart raced and you swore his did too. He brought his free hand to your face, resting it on your cheek. You looked down at it, foreign on your skin. You looked back at him and searched his face for any sign that this was some sick joke. All you found was sincerity. He was willing and ready to risk years of friendship on the off chance that you felt the same as he did. He unraveled his hand from yours and placed it softly on your neck as he pulled you in, careful not to make any sudden movements. 

The kiss was soft, at first. As it deepened you placed your hand on his chest, not to push him away, but to feel if his heart was beating as fast as yours. It soon became breathless, both of you refusing to break for air. Your fingers ended up in his hair. You felt his tongue on your bottom lip. He was testing you and you gave in. It was feverish. You both moved in sync until, finally, you both pulled away to get some air. The room was spinning. You were kneeling after he had pulled you up. He pulled you up further and sat you down on the couch. He pulled you close to him and just held you, hoping to feel as close as possible to you. You both felt like you’d just won the lottery. He traced your arm with his fingers. You looked up at him and he was already looking at you. You slowly broke out into a smile and he did too. Soon enough you were both giggling and chuckling. It was pure bliss. He leaned in to give you another kiss. There was no testing the waters this time. He pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“What took us so long?”, he sighed. 

You whispered back, ”I don’t know.”

[clarionglass]

so i have been bitten by the sam reich!master bug courtesy of some phenomenal art by @northernfireart and uh. as is too often the case i had to write something otherwise if i didn't get it out of my brain i would go absolutely insane

(there may be more vignettes coming if i have ideas..... there are definitely other episodes i'd like to give the Treatment to, plus with the new dw series coming out on the weekend i may have ideas for how to incorporate the dw gang! however, i promise neither more writing or no more writing. that said, this was a lot of fun so there'll probably be more at some stage :D )

this has full spoilers for the game changer ep "escape the greenroom", but hey that's been out for a while now so,,,, if you haven't seen it i'd highly recommend it as an episode!

so, without further ado:

--

Samuel Dalton was a complete fiction, of course, but that didn't mean that when Sam Reich snuck back upstairs to get tied up in the “out of order” bathroom, the Sam that remained on the monitor, laughing at the contestants, was a pre-recording. And if Brennan, Siobhan and Lou had snorted at the idea of a time-travelling evil magician great-grandfather (for good reason), going in with the actual truth of the matter would have sounded like jumping the shark.

It sounded bizarre, but the time travel bit was the only part about his new partner in crime that was confirmably real. Admittedly, the jury was still out on “evil”—he gave off a weird vibe at times, but so far, no lines had been crossed, and it had all been funny as hell—so for now, Sam was willing to roll with it. But perhaps most surprisingly, there wasn’t even the possibility of blood relation between Samuel Dalton Reich and the guy who had shown up out of the blue one day with his exact face and a plan to really fuck around with things on Game Changer.

Yeah, the whole alien thing had really ruled out that particular prospect.

There had been various bits and pieces of confirmation that this guy wasn’t human through the time Sam had known him, but the final nail in the coffin for that one was when his doppelganger had looked him dead in the eye and tried on one of the heart rate monitors—sorry, “range extenders”—for As a Cucumber. The damn thing had literally sparked up, then died completely. Trying to process input from two separate heartbeats at once would do that, apparently. 

His doppelganger was a Time Lord, or so he had nonchalantly said one afternoon in casual conversation, though Sam still wasn’t sure if that one was a joke or not. It was hard to tell, sometimes, because he said the wildest things with the straightest face, and so far, most of them had turned out to be one hundred percent certifiably true. The time travel, the space travel, even the changing faces thing—it sounded objectively insane, but the proof was undeniable. 

There were some notable exceptions, though. Saying he’d been trapped for aeons inside Neil Patrick Harris’s gold tooth went just that bit too far to be believable, though Sam did appreciate his double’s slightly warped sense of humour.

It was that offbeat line of thinking that lent itself well to game design, as it turned out. He had a knack for coming up with ideas for Game Changer episodes, albeit with the occasional suggestion that went way beyond the bounds of good taste, and, as in the case of Escape the Greenroom, had devised some blinding twists on concepts Sam had already half-formed. The letter puzzle unlocking the secret door? It was perfect.

Understandably, Sam’s doppelganger had wanted to observe the fruits of their labours in real time, rather than watching the recording later. It happened, sometimes, particularly when it was one of his ideas that had made it through to the episode list—they’d swap places for a session, with nobody being any the wiser. Watching those edits back always felt a bit weird—it was uncanny how flawless the mimicry was—but hey, the guy was right. It was always fun.

Escape the Greenroom, specifically, with its “Samuel Dalton” conceit, provided them with a unique opportunity. Instead of swapping out the camera feed for a recording when the cast piled into the tiny secret room behind the wall, as per the original plan to get Sam in position to be discovered in the bathroom, they could just swap out the people. Sam would go upstairs, and his double would take his place at the podium, ducking out of sight when everyone came back to the main stage to “defuse the bomb”.

Sam was keen—hell, if their situations had been reversed, he’d want to be there to watch, too—but caution raised a flag. “You don’t think it’s too risky?” he’d asked when the subject was first raised. “Both of us being in the same place?”

His doppelganger had shrugged one shoulder with supreme unconcern. “The crew won't notice.”

At the time, Sam had shot him a sceptical look, but right now, Sam-Reich-in-a-purple-tie and Sam-Reich-in-an-orange-tie were standing backstage post-record, clearly visible and and calmly chatting, and not a single member of the crew had given them so much as a second glance. 

…Hardly even a first glance, come to think about it. If anyone looked over their way, their eyes seemed to… not exactly go through them, but slide over the two of them like water. He was tempted to wave to Nico or Ash or someone, just out of pure curiosity, but something in the back of his mind told him that wouldn’t be the world’s greatest idea. He had a funny feeling he wouldn’t like to see what would happen next.

(He’d given the prop bomb back to the crew once the cameras stopped rolling, and though it looked the same as the one he remembered from before he’d headed upstairs, it felt different in his hands. Heavier, more… serious, somehow. He was sure nothing would have happened—but at the same time, he was suddenly very glad that the cast had cut the correct wire with no less than a minute fifteen to go.)

(The jury was still out on evil, after all.)

“Worth coming in for?” he asked instead.

“Absolutely,” his double replied with relish. “Locking those three in a small room for an hour? Brilliant, fantastic. Inspired. It was absolute chaos.”

“Have you seen up there?” Sam asked, a smile starting to spread across his face. “They messed up the set real bad.”

His doppelganger smirked at him. “You know it took literally two seconds from you telling them to escape the greenroom for Lou to smash that guitar?”

Sam shook his head. “Oh my god. Yeah, they were stressed.” 

“Mmm. Some real panic in that room,” his doppelganger agreed, and Sam chose to ignore the faint note of satisfaction in his voice.

He shifted his weight, settling back to lean against the table behind the set, in the exact instant his double decided to do the same thing. It really was freaky how similar they were, down to the smallest mannerism—like looking in a mirror, only weirder, because the face that looked back at him was truly his own face, not mirror-reversed. Even now, it still caught Sam off guard from time to time, but at least it had faded into a more comfortable kind of strange. He had an exact lookalike who was an actual time-travelling alien. Cool. Doesn’t everyone?

The pair shared a companionable silence for a few moments, before a thought Sam had been turning over for a while rose to the top of his mind. He shifted again, this time on his own, and he felt his double’s regard swing up to fix on him like a magnet. 

“Okay, real talk,” he started, and his doppelganger frowned back in an approximation of confused innocence. “What’s all this for?”

“Who says it has to be for anything? Aren't we just having fun?”

Sam hummed, considering. “Yeah. No, I'd believe that, if I didn't sometimes walk into production meetings and find out I'd apparently been very specific about the people I wanted for certain episodes.”

“Point for Sam,” his doppelganger acknowledged with a grin. “You got me. Wasn’t hard to make a few phone calls on our joint behalf.”

“Yeah, but why?” Sam pressed. “I mean, Siobhan, Brennan and Lou are always great comedy value when you put them together, and it was awesome to have them for this, but I get the feeling you’re thinking of something other than making good content.”

“Who, me?”

With that, his double gave him a look of such overdone pantomime innocence that Sam suddenly and thoroughly understood why, not half an hour earlier, Brennan had very seriously threatened to push him down the stairs. 

He rolled his eyes, which earned him a smirk for his troubles.

Dropping the act, his doppelganger continued. “I’m expecting an… old friend, I guess, to show up at some point, and—well, I’d like to put on a really special show for them. I thought it would be a good opportunity to try a few things out, you know?”

Ominous pause aside, that was actually kind of sweet. Sweeter than he’d been expecting, that’s for sure—he was half anticipating the revelation that he and his cast were subjects in some weird experiment. Hey, that still couldn’t fully be ruled out, but still.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. “Well… just let me know, next time? Before you start ordering in my cast like takeout?”

“Who says they’re your cast?” his double shot back with a twinkle in his eye, and Sam snorted.

“Fine. Our cast, then. But seriously, let me know?”

His doppelganger nodded, which, if not quite fully convincing, was good enough. 

“Oh, and do you know when your friend might be arriving?” Sam asked. “Because if you wanted to plan something, we can—”

“I don’t know,” his doppelganger interrupted. “So yeah, we’ll have to move fast when they do get here. But I’ve got it under control.”

He broke off, then shot Sam a mischievous grin. “In the meantime, though, I’ve had this fun thought about time loops…”

[augiewrites]

"secret admirer" - dead poets society (part 5)

summary: y/n receives a curious invitation from meeks and has a surprise encounter with neil and todd

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.2k

previous | next

It was finally Friday, and Y/N was looking forward to spending the weekend recovering from a week of non-stop exams, cramming, and a nonexistent sleep schedule. The morning’s classes had been a drag so far, and they were looking forward to the reprieve of Keating’s class. Knowing they'd be in close proximity to their admirer aside, Keating’s class gave them an opportunity to activate another part of their brain—one concerned less with grades and formulas.

No, this part was more concerned with matters of feeling. Matters of love, art, expression—everything crucial to finding true meaning in life.

Meaning.

Something that Y/N’s life—and the students of Welton’s lives—was severely lacking.

Y/N shoved the existential crisis to the back of their mind, shooting Todd a smile as he occupied the desk at the front of the class.

Their desk compartment was empty aside from their textbook and notes. Y/N felt their heart drop. It had been empty for days.

Did I make a mistake leaving that poem?

Y/N did their best to not look disappointed. The only thing more embarrassing than their poet’s lack of response was the thought of him observing their discontent.

Keating’s class didn't give them much reprieve that day.

_________________________________________ 

Against their better judgment, Y/N found themselves in the library during common hour. In all truth, Y/N just wanted to go back to their dorm and bang their head against the wall until they fell asleep. Alas, the expectation of a 4.0 GPA was looming over their head.

Thankfully, Meeks was the only other person to show up. Y/N didn't think they had the strength to deal with Dalton.

“So are you just going to keep side eyeing me, or do you have something to say?” Y/N set down their pencil and turned to face Meeks.

“Y/N, you've sighed three times within the last minute,” Meeks quipped, "seems like you're the one with something to say."

“But I'm right, though. You have something you want to say."

“I'll share with the class if you will.”

The two stared at each other for a moment—Meeks' expression much lighter compared to Y/N’s frustrated features.

Y/N gave in first.

“I’m tired, Meeks."

“Of?..."

“Everything.”

“You’re going to have to give me a little more here, Y/N.”

“…”

"I'm waiting."

“My GPA dropped to a 3.7," Y/N’s gaze was fixed to the table, “my parents are not happy. I feel like all I ever do is try, but it's not enough, and it never will be. My social life is practically nonexistent, I don't remember the last time I had fun, and I can feel my spirit dying. Some days it feels like I'm dying."

“You’re more than your grades, Y/N. You have to know that."

“I know that, Meeks. They don't,” Y/N let out a bitter laugh, “they ship me off to this prison, don't let me come home for breaks, and they call me maybe twice a semester if I'm lucky. They see my grades more than they ever see me."

Meeks was silent for a beat as Y/N cradled their head in their hands.

“Tomorrow night. Meet me outside the East wing at 10PM.”

“Meeks, what are you—“

“Just trust me. If you care about your spirit, anyway."

“Fine,” Y/N began packing their bag and stood up, nodding absentmindedly, "yeah, okay."

Because everything was cosmically determined to go wrong, Y/N crashed into Charlie as they rounded the corner out of the library. Their armload of textbooks crashed to the floor.

“Don’t you know to look both ways before crossing the street?" Charlie joked as he knelt to pick up Y/N’s books.

Y/N kept their head down as they gathered the mess of note paper that exploded out of their trig book.

“I mean, really, Y/N. If you want to feel me up you don't need to be so aggressive about it—“

Charlie’s sly smile melted into concern when he noticed the tears in Y/N’s eyes.

"Hey, are you okay, Y/N?” Charlie passed the books to Y/N and placed a gentle hand on their upper am.

Y/N gave the boy a tight lipped smile and stepped away from his touch.

“I'm fine, Dalton," Y/N was already moving down the hall.

“Y/N—“

“If you're looking for Meeks, he's still in there."

Y/N disappeared around the corner, leaving Charlie staring at the space they just occupied.

_________________________________________

Y/N wasn’t one for skipping class, but it was the last period of the day and Y/N thought their head would explode if they didn’t get away from everyone as soon as possible.

They triple checked that the hallway was empty before rushing into the storage room filled with students’ empty luggage.

But the room wasn’t unoccupied like they expected.

Neil Perry and Todd Anderson were in the middle of the room, locked in a gentle embrace.

They jumped apart when they heard Y/N’s soft sound of surprise, and the trio looked at each other in shock for a beat.

“We were just—” Neil took a step away from Todd before the other boy cut him off, surprising everyone, seemingly including himself.

“We’re together.”

They all stared at each other for another moment before Neil stepped forward again.

“You can’t tell anyone, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” Y/N blinked, suddenly coming alive again, “I would never.”

Relief washed over the two boys. Todd was more red than Y/N thought was humanly possible.

“Okay, I’m just gonna,” Y/N took a step back and jerked a thumb over their shoulder at the door, “go…”

They turned quickly to leave.

“Y/N.” Neil’s hand enclosed their wrist as they reached for the doorknob.

They looked up into Neil’s soft gaze, a faint smile on his face, “thank you.”

“Of course,” they returned the smile and waved to Todd as they slipped out the door, rushing to their dorm to avoid being caught for truancy.

_________________________________________

Y/N had been laying in bed for all of fifteen minutes before they heard the familiar sound of paper sliding under the door.

They were out of bed and rushing to open the door before they could think twice. Truancy be damned.

The empty hallway mocked Y/N.

Frustrated tears welled in their eyes as they slammed the door and grabbed the envelope off the floor before ripping it open.

Beloved Y/N,

In your eyes, a storm silently brews, Emotional tempest, tears it strews. I stand close, a silent observer, Love entangled in your pain, a fervent preserver.

Your hurt, a whisper in the quiet air, A shared burden, a weight to bear. In the shadows, love stands strong, A balm for wounds, a solace lifelong.

In the heart's tempest, emotions entwine, Love persists, a steadfast lifeline. I may not heal all that pains your soul, But together, in love, we find a way to be whole.

x, Yours.

Y/N let the tears flow freely as they sunk down onto the bed.

They were certain of who wasn’t their poet, but they were in denial about who it could be.

~~~

part six

a/n: any reality where neil and todd aren't in love is a crime against nature

taglist: @vvnbxz @edb954

[hauntingsunshine14]

I do laugh at all the jokes about neil ignoring the countdown and then I stop laughing because he did ignore the countdown, but only because he just accepted without any fuss or resistance that he was inevitably going to die no matter what (as he did promise to stop running away from things), so acknowledging the countdown would mean that he couldn't have those last few moments with his family as neil, that nathaniel would have to come sooner, and his time spent actually living would be that much shorter.

like yeah it was partly about protecting the foxes from his other identity but also it was that somber acceptance and desperate grapple to hold on for just a bit longer.

[forgiveness-in-the-misery]

I saw people debate what the sitcom lens means and I always just assumed it is very Kevin centric. Kevin loved himself a lot and sees himself as the main character in his life. His wife and friends and his own father are just side characters and puppets he has on a string. Its why his father coddles him, its why Neil dick rides him so bad and why he gets annoyed and creeped out when Allyson strays from his script by trying to make a joke or correct him.

I think the same issue applies to Allyson’s mom as well, she like Kevin sees herself as the center of the universe and everybody else is a prop for her.

It’s why everything is so….heavy and dark and broken when reality is put back in focus. Kevin doesn’t have to give a shit about reality 98% of the time because it seldom touches him. He can replace people in a heart beat, they mean nothing to him aside from their submissiveness and loyalty to him.

And there is something terrifying in the show about reality seeping in. Moments of Kevin losing control, his flash of anger when he thinks Allyson is going to hang out with another man, the way he grabs her jacket away from her as a way to prevent her from leaving the house. Seeing abusive threats and actions in a brightly lit living room while a laugh track plays is somehow 80 times darker.

It makes me think of Mirror Man from the short film Opal, the father who is self obsessed to the point he can’t really recognize his own daughter and it is alluded he assaulted his wife and she disfigured him in self defense when he attacked her. Mirror Man talks often in a jovial voice often even childish and calls himself an innocent thing.

And Kevin is much the same, he talks and behaves like a boy in high school despite being a grown man and he assumes he can play the role of young boy who doesn’t know better to avoid getting in trouble for his shitty behaviors.

[perksofbeingpoet]

new headcanons!

☆ THE POETS AT THE CINEMA ☆

(this got really long bc i love them so much aahhhh i hope you enjoy these headcanons as much as i do-)

CHARLIE: his favourite genre is comedy, plus movies about outlaws and teen rebels, says "so me" all through the film. oh yeah he doesn't shut up ever, talks the whole time until someone tells him to please stop talking because the movie's more interesting than how he'd dress as a pirate. every time there's a kissing scene, he turns to the poet sitting next to him and wiggles his eyebrows with a smirk. a nightmare to clean up after, his popcorn ends up all over the floor and himself. BUT all this doesn't apply to emotional movies. if a movie is sad, charlie is silent the entire time, doesn't crack a joke once and comes out of it with half his popcorn left.

KNOX: cries when watching romance, tells the poets he's not crying!! just the dry air of the cinema getting to him. insists on taking pictures of them in front of the movie poster. has accidentally thrown his ticket away instead of the receipt on several occasions. if there are cardboard cut-outs of characters at the cinema, he needs to take pics with all of them. eats a strange mixture of snacks, popcorn, pretzels and ice cream. asks "whAT?" at least five times through the movie bc he can't follow the plot. really fun to watch a movie with because he'll audibly gasp at every plot twist. idk him at the cinema is really cute guys i swear.

PITTS: needs a toilet break three times throughout the movie (tall guy small bladder king). his legs get cramps from the rows being too narrow but he doesn't care, pittsie LOVES going to the cinema. will most often go with knox and meeks, they're the best film trio. knows loads of lore about all sci-fi movies they watch, and acts annoyed at people asking questions because OF COURSE ni-bo64 has to destroy Leobor. eats salty snacks and always chooses the biggest cup of soda (meeks points this out every time pittsie has to squeeze around him to go to the toilet). loudly shouts "YES" when something he approves of happens. is the best sport about charlie's smirks in kissing scenes, he just like puts his hand on charlie's thigh really slowly and mouths 'hi'.

MEEKS: really likes movies with a hidden message, is the only one charlie will watch emotional movies with. but also just a huge nerd, him and pittsie watch sci-fi stuff together and then talk about every plot point for an hour. ORANGE SODA. really big fan of good film music. can't sit still and always steals the arm rest. doesn't talk but says "WHAT??" way too loud when a plothole occurs or a thing he was hoping for doesn't happen. is the one to buy the tickets.

NEIL: loves the comfy velvet seats. always has half a breakdown about "omg maybe i should go into film instead of stage acting??" after seeing a movie he really likes. is a little movie nerd, especially for superhero movies! loves the moment of stepping out of the cinema into the fresh night air. his snack is sweet popcorn or gummy bears. gets so excited when something cool is about to happen, he's waving his arms and being like "oh- ooohhhh- oooohhhhhh" until the cool thing actually happens. makes sure everyone has their tickets (goes into airport dad mode). laughs a lot and looks around at all the poets like "did you see that??" as if they're not all watching the same movie.

TODD: too anxious to complain about sitting behind a tall person, he'll often try to sit on top of his balled-up jacket to be a bit taller and see enough of the screen. pitts notices after a while and is like "hey todd, could we swap seats? i'd love to sit next to knox". todd only realises what that was about a few hours later and is silently soo grateful for pitts not embarrassing him. likes artsy movies where not a lot happens, and LOVES reruns bc then he already knows the plot and can relax. doesn't ever talk throughout the movie but laughs SO MUCH. mouths the lines when he already knows a movie. when there's a kissing scene he'll get embarrassed. doesn't buy snacks cos they're "too loud" and then eats all the other poets' snacks. every time. likes watching the ads before the movie.

CAMERON: asks "does anyone need to go to the bathroom before the movie starts" like fifty times before they watch the movie. hates sitting next to strangers during the movie because then he's always hyper aware of his behaviour and can't really focus on the film. likes historical movies and will watch them with todd (no one can tell me todd/cameron friendship isn't real, it makes so much sense). salty popcorn kinda guy. knows the names of all the actors and actresses.

[kevinsdsy]

jas i need your thoughts on the foxes/trojans seeing the olympic opening ceremony rn

AHHH okay okay i had the opening ceremony on in the background while finishing some things up for work hehe so this is great 🙂‍↕️ also this just turned into what they're up to during the ceremony, idk if this is what u meant but i hope it's okay SHDKDHFJ

the foxes and trojans go to watch the opening ceremony together!! kevin will be damned if he isn't going with jeremy and they're all going anyway, so might as well go together yk

and lets start with the fact its literally raining...? which is actually really aesthetically pleasing because it's still france, but also very very annoying. i imagine half the foxes and even more of the trojans just not taking a jacket with them (either because of aesthetic reasons and not wanting to ruin their outfits or just because they didn't even consider it a possibility) so they're all wet from the rain.

kevin at least bothered to take a jacket with him which has a hood and he actually told the others to take a jacket with them too and now whenever andrew and neil seem annoyed he goes: well i did say to bring a jacket with you, didn't i?

andrew flips him off (he wasn't even the one complaining) and of course a camera turns to them at that moment and it goes viral (i imagine it's either a fan filming them or it's happening in the background of some scene bc why not)

also hello LADY GAGA?? i went in with zero expectations and not keeping up with the news so i didn't know who was going to perform and suddenly there is lady gaga????? singing in french???

shawn is flabbergasted to hear lady gaga sing in french and he keeps bothering jean about what she's saying and jean is determined not to translate anything for them at all times so he tells shawn it's not important- it's just a song, but shawn keeps nagging him about it.

"i'm not telling you, ask kevin." jean tells him off at some point and shawn has now totally forgotten about the performance and is instead intrigued with the revelation that kevin speaks french too

so he's determined to find out more about this instead and goes on to nag kevin instead.

shawn has now forgotten about the opening ceremony altogether and is just going on side quests.

anyways the trojans CHEER for every small group of athleses that appear for their country, jumping up and down, trying to be as loud as possible and just being very supportive.

renee catches on and she joins in on the cheering. at some point dan and matt join in too.

nabil and laila make sure to be extra loud when the boat with the algerian and lebanese athletes show up. they both cheer for each other's countries like it's their own- cat & tony try their best to match their energy and be as loud as possible too.

with like half the countries kevin seems to find an olympics related fact about them that he is determined to share with the others. especially when it has something to do with exy.

when the both with 'virgin islands, british' shows up shawn goes: "i went to virgin islands and everyone knew you there" to the person next to him (without even clocking who it is because he won't let an opportunity for a joke let go to waste) and he turns around to find aaron. andrew? he hasn't yet figured out how to distinguish the two of them.

and aaron looks at him with an expression that basically says "do we really need to do this?" and the silence is so awkward which almost makes shawn regret opening his mouth in the first place and then katelyn starts laughing and makes fun of aaron.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 5.2k (including intro)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only), enemies to lovers, sub!neil/dom!reader, slightly dubious consent?, orgasm control/denial, praise and degradation, oral sex m receiving, come eating, riding, a touch of breeding kink, semi public sex

do NOT read this until you have read the FIRST PART or it won't make any damn sense!!

"So, whaddya say, Mr. Lewis?"

"I say… suck my dick," he returned with a smug smile.

You just laughed.  "Maybe I would if I thought you could last more than thirty seconds."

His face got a little redder as he glanced away.  "Seriously?  You think I'm that helpless?"

You shrugged.  "I think I'm that good."

He looked at your face for a moment, a certain look in his eyes— a look that made it seem like he wanted to take you up on the challenge.  “Of course you do,” he smirked, “guys probably tell you you’re funny, too.”

“Sometimes,” you agreed, “but I’m not joking now.”

He stiffened up a bit.  “I don’t have a stamina problem,” he assured.

"If you're so confident, let's bet on it," you offered.  "I’ll blow you, and if you last thirty seconds or less, I'm buying the place.  More than that, you'll never have to see me again."

“Jesus,” he sighed, avoiding your gaze for a moment.  “Is that really how you make a deal?”

“It’s one way we could make this deal,” you returned, “and it sounds like a lot more fun than all the other ways.”

“You have an unfortunate habit of overestimating yourself,” he noticed.

“Then this should be easy for you.”

He hesitated, laughing nervously, but you stared forward so he knew you were serious.  After a tense pause, in which he opened and shut his mouth a few times as if nearly saying several different things, he sighed a bit.  “O-okay, yeah,” he relented, and you had to fight back a smile— not because you were actually that excited to suck some random video store owner’s dick… but because you were pretty confident that you just bought yourself some prime real estate and that promotion you’d been gunning for.  “S-so, um, how do we—?”

You cut him off by pushing him back into his chair with a grin, already loving the slight look of desperation on his face as he looked up at you.  "Let me get a little more comfortable first," you explained as you slipped your blazer off and tossed it aside.  

Then the shirt— one button at a time, not too slowly but without any sense of urgency.  “Y-you don’t have to do all that,” he promised thinly.

“Be patient,” you encouraged with a wink, “I just can’t afford for you to… stain any of this.  I have to go back to the office today, you know.”

He nodded a little in understanding, his chest filling and sinking a little more with each breath as he watched you strip.  For something you’d managed to spin as practical, you were doing it with a bit of… flair, slowly pulling the shirt off your shoulders and dropping it to the floor as his eyes were glued to your chest.  Of course, it helped that this bra wasn’t exactly ‘practical’ either… you only let your eyes drop for a second to the growing bulge in his jeans.

You started to push your skirt down, watching his eyes follow the fabric as more skin was revealed, only to tug it back up just before you got anywhere too exciting.  "Or maybe I should leave this on," you decided, making him whine and look up at your face pleadingly.

"C-c'mon," he panted.

"Maybe if you ask nicely…" 

He hissed in a breath through his teeth.  "Please…" he whispered.

"Hm?"

"Please take it off," he sighed, and you smirked at the way his hips jumped up a bit as you pushed it down to reveal your matching panties.  “Fuck,” he choked, “you dressed up like that just to come here?”

You shook your head.  “I had other plans today,” you offered cryptically, and if he was going to ask more questions about that, he forgot them when you stepped out of the skirt and right up to where he was sitting.  “Should I leave these on?” you asked as you ran a finger along the top of your thigh-high stockings, seeing him struggle to form a thought as he looked at them and then back up at you.

“Y-yeah, maybe… maybe leave those on,” he breathed, “the floor might be cold.”

“Oh,” you cooed, “you’re such a gentleman.”

You knelt down in front of him, rubbing your hands up his thighs through the jeans as he swallowed thickly.  Each time you slid your hands over his legs, you moved a little higher, until you were just barely brushing over the bulge under his fly.  You bit your lip and looked up at him, savoring the nervous expression he was wearing.

You opened the button of his jeans, and took your time with the zipper; you giggled a bit when you felt his cock flex, even through all the layers of clothing.  

“You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” you teased in a soft voice.

“N-no,” he denied.  

“Really?  You never wanted me on my knees in front of you?” you pressed.

“Well, that’s sort of a different question,” he breathed, whining slightly under his breath when you got his fly open and reached in to rub him through his boxers.  “Oh, t-take it out,” he instructed, but you just laughed.

“Let me do this my way,” you replied, and he seemed to realize then that you were teasing him on purpose, to make his side of the bet all that more difficult.  It would’ve been reasonable for him to call you out on your cheating, but he was too busy reaching forward to feel your tits through the bra; he groaned a little, squeezing them eagerly.

You did take it out, of course, after barely a minute of teaching him through the fabric, and you bit your lip as you wrapped your fingers around his warm, firm length.  It was a little bigger than you bargained for, but you weren’t exactly worried— after all, you were going to make sure you didn’t have to do this for very long.

Licking your lips as you stroked it— and trying to make it look like an instinctive move rather than a deliberate choice— you watched him as he stared down at your face and then your hand, a drip of clear precum already leaking from the slit.  You hummed as you picked up your pace a little, still mostly just exploring him, but squeezing him in your palm too just to watch him squirm a bit.

You leaned in and gave it one long lick, with just the tip of your tongue, all the way from the base to the head, and he hissed a little with his next breath as he stared down at you.  You hummed at the slightly salty taste as you lapped up the thin arousal, and his chest sank with a long breath.

"Okay," you smiled, "you can start counting now."

"O-one," he choked out, voice getting thinner as you wrapped your lips around him and bobbed your head.  After all that teasing, you had to be efficient for the next thirty seconds: you sucked hard and stroked with one hand while the other slowly rubbed his balls, hoping to give him the full treatment and make this quick.  "Two, three—"

You pulled back but kept stroking him.  "Not so fast," you scolded, "look at your watch."

"Sorry, fuck, um," he groaned, glancing at his watch to try to keep the correct time.  "Two… three… four…"

Your spit was running down to smooth your hand's movements, and he groaned as he started to buck up into your mouth.  His hands held your head, fingers tangling into your hair as you kept going.

"Five, six— oh god," he moaned, head tilting back for a second… but when he looked at you again, you looked up and met his gaze.  He bit his lip, already breathing heavily as he watched you.

He never forced your head down, really, but you could feel him trying to guide you, trying to make you move a little faster and take him a little deeper.  You could do that— you moaned around him as you pretended to let him take the lead, figuring that was what he needed to feel in control right now.  But as soon as you did, he tightened his grip on your hair and tried to slow you down… and you wondered if he was already realizing this bet might have been a little out of his pay grade.

“Ten,” he choked out, groaning as you flattened your tongue more to rub along the underside of his cock.  “Ele—oh, fuck— e-eleven…”

You moaned again, one of his hands slipping down from your hair to the back of your neck, even running over your shoulder and lingering on the strap of your bra.

Speeding up slightly, you tried to subtly twist your hand while you stroked and just keep a steady pace— once you found the right thing, you just needed to stick with it, and something about the hoarseness of his voice as he moaned for you seemed like a sign you’d found the right thing.  “Baby,” he mumbled under his breath, and you had to try not to smile since it would just get in the way of things.  You would definitely not be letting him get away with calling you ‘baby’ if your mouth wasn’t full…

Even you weren’t focused on the numbers anymore, putting all your energy into this as you bobbed your head on him.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” he yelped when his tip brushed the back of your throat.  “Twenty— oh god…”

Home stretch, just ten more seconds, you thought to yourself, if that… he sounds pretty fucked up.  And it’s not that you hated this so much, it was actually turning you on more than anything to hear him sound so desperate— but you already had your eye on the prize, and you could’ve probably attributed the wetness gathering in your panties to the mental image of telling your boss tomorrow that you finally bought out Gumshoe Video, just as much as what you were actually doing right now.

"Twenty-t-two, twenty-three," he kept going, voice getting a little deeper now, and you wondered with a hint of nervousness if he could really make it— he was flexing in your mouth already, but maybe he could hold it back.

You moved faster, pretty much as fast as you could, and shut your eyes tight as you hoped this would work— you didn’t quite realize it at the time, but you were more motivated to make him come for the sake of it, than for the consequence of owning his store as a result.

“Twenty-eight,” he gasped, and you sucked even harder as desperation started to kick in— but then he choked on a moan, and flexed in your mouth again.  "Stop, stop!" he begged suddenly, and you stilled before pulling away with a smile.

"Can't take it, huh?"

"I just need a second—"

"No, you don't get a second. I already gave you thirty," you reminded him.  “I win.”

“N-no, wait,” he panted, only to open his eyes wide when you stood up and slid into the chair with him, straddling his lap.  He looked up at you in the most adorably pathetic way, his hands shakily coming to rest on your waist.

“It won’t be so bad,” you promised, “we have fabulous benefits, you know.”

He was clearly not paying attention, whimpering as you moved forward and rubbed yourself against him through the thin lace.  “F-fuck, please,” he whispered, and you smirked.

“You wanna fuck me?” you asked, acting totally surprised by it.  “I thought you hated me.”

“Yes,” he sighed, “and yes.”

Grinning, you sat up enough to pull the panties aside and guide him to your entrance, watching him choke on nothing as you teased his head with your slick lips.  

“F-fuck, you’re wet,” he noticed, sounding more proud of himself than you intended him to be.

“I get that way when I’m about to get what I want,” you shrugged, just a moment before sinking down and taking him all in one relatively-quick motion.  He moaned loudly and held on tighter to you, but you gave him no time to rest at all as you moved right away, riding him with a contented sigh and struggling not to openly laugh at his almost-pained expression. 

Obviously, he wasn’t actually in pain, it was just a look of conflict as he realized how badly he wanted to come and how bad it would be if he came right away— but you’d brought him right to the edge, after all, and you watched physical instinct and fleeting logical reasoning battle in his eyes as his eyes watched you bouncing on top of him.

“Fuck,” you moaned softly, humming when his head rubbed right against that spot inside you— you guided your movements to hit it every time, a nice little shiver running over you.  “Fuck, Neil, it’s good…”

He was obviously affected by the praise, and you rocked your hips faster as you watched him struggle even more to hold himself together as his head tilted back against the chair.

"You'd better not come inside me, Neil," you warned sternly.  "If you do… well, let's just say as your new employer, we're proud to offer a rather generous paternity leave."

"Oh god, oh god," he choked, yet holding on tighter to your hips while you moved.

"Not gonna knock up your boss on your first day, are you?" you laughed, reveling in his panic.

"You're not my boss," he panted, "not 'til I sign the paperwork."

"Oh, honey," you purred, "I already own you."

He whined and bit his lip, shutting his eyes tight— but you couldn’t let him run away that easily, you couldn’t let him hide from what was happening to stop himself from coming too fast: so, you took his hands off your hips and guided them up to your chest, all but forcing him to feel your tits again as he moaned louder and obeyed.  “God,” he breathed, “I— I don’t know if I can take much more of this—”

You hummed with a little pout, leaning in and lifting his chin with your fingers.  “Poor thing,” you cooed just before you pressed your lips to his, kissing him hungrily while riding him even faster.

He moaned into the kiss, clearly overwhelmed but still trying to kiss you back.  When his hands moved to your hips again, trying to slow you down, you grabbed them by the wrists and pinned them down to the arms of the chair, making him groan and buck up into you.  

“Just let me use you, baby,” you breathed against his lips, making him whimper and nod.  “Y’wanna feel me come, don’t you?  You wanna make me come?”

“Yes,” he groaned, “fuck— yes, please—”

“You can take it, right?”

“God,” he winced, speaking through his teeth as you moved your kiss down to his neck.  “God, fuck— I think I can—”

“I think you can,” you agreed, “you’re gonna be good for me—”

“O-oh, fuck,” he moaned, his cock flexing inside you again when you bit playfully on his neck.  You hoped to leave a mark, thinking it would be funny to make sure he couldn’t hide what had happened— but then again, it might not be the smartest idea… not that any of your decisions in the last five minutes were based on smartness.

Your hips rocked on instinct now, pressure building and twisting inside you until you couldn’t help but drop your head back with a long sigh of pleasure.

“Please come, please come,” he begged in a weak and high-pitched whine, and as much as you were amused by his desperate attempts to get you to finish before he did, you were also pretty into it… as in, it was working.  You’d only been doing this for a few minutes, but you’d had quite a bit of fun sucking him off and, well, he looked so cute begging.

You moaned and moved a little faster, holding on tighter to his wrists.  “Fuck, I’m close,” you promised.

“Oh god, oh god,” he whined, hands tightening into fists as you held them down.  “Baby, please,” he choked, and you smiled as it hit you.  You wondered if watching you come would be enough to send him over the edge.

“Oh fuck, Neil, yes!” you shouted, hoping to give him a show so he wouldn’t be able to help himself.  “Oh my god— so good, baby, you feel so fucking good—”

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he chanted under his breath, shutting his eyes tight— but then opening one a second later and groaning at the sight of you.  

The feeling began to pass as your thighs quivered, your whole body exhausted by the motions just as much as the draining power of your orgasm.  Stilling on top of him, you let go of his wrists and sighed with relief, resting your hands on his chest.  He shuddered, and you pretended to remember that he was waiting to come.  “Oh— do you want me to—?”

“P-please,” he choked.

You pulled yourself up until he slipped out of you, both sighing for slightly different reasons.  You reached down and wrapped your hand around him, laughing softly at how swollen and reddened his tip was— it almost looked painful, and the way he winced when you gingerly stroked him almost sounded painful.

Your free hand stroked his hair as he leaned his head forward against your chest, panting with exhaustion.  “Please, please,” he whispered between breaths, over and over.

“You did good, baby,” you promised him, “you can come now—”

He groaned and did it pretty much instantly, you could feel it running down over your fingers and even getting on his shirt and pants.  You clicked your tongue pityingly as he bucked up into your hand, his face fallen slack in pleasure and weak moans falling from his full lips.

“Poor thing,” you said again, watching him go totally limp under you— and his exhausted cock starting to follow suit— as the last little drip of come ran down over your fingers.  You brought your hand up to your mouth and licked up what had gotten on you, which his sleepy eyes watched in awe.  Before you swallowed, though, you pulled him by the jaw into another kiss— slow and sloppy, feeling him shudder as he tasted his own spend.

When you figured he’d had enough, you suddenly pulled away and slipped off of his lap, putting your panties back in place and starting to pick up the clothes that had scattered on the floor.  You wondered if he would say something, though you couldn’t imagine what, but found yourself a little surprised to be dressing in silence.  Then again, when you looked over at him, he was staring forward blankly and looking absolutely drained— in every sense of the word.

After getting fully dressed— though you figured you still probably looked less composed than when you got here— you slipped back on your heels and wondered if there really was nothing else to say.  “The paperwork will come in the mail,” you informed him simply as you turned to leave, and only then did he reach out and grab your wrist.

“W-wait,” he stammered, “I— I need to know when I’ll see you again.”

You considered that for a second, eventually shrugging.  “I don’t know, I work in acquisitions— once you’re acquired, you’re not really my concern anymore.”

“Really?” he breathed, smiling but seeming sort of frustrated.  “None of what just happened seems… concerning to you?”

You laughed a little, stepping closer to him again as he finally got himself in order— and groaned a little as he realized how bad the stain was on his shirt.  “Neil, my job is pretty simple: I need to make this place profitable.  Or, I need to make you make this place profitable… that’s going to take up all of our spare time.”

“So, if we’re losing money,” he posited, raising an eyebrow, “would you need to come here and… discipline me?”

“Don’t get too excited,” you scoffed.

“Why not?  Shirt’s already ruined.”

“Listen, I know that was… great,” you sighed, “but we should still establish boundar—”

He stood up and cut you off with a kiss, sudden and needy as you sighed against him.  He reached up and held your face, before dropping his hands down your waist and pulling you closer.  You were just about to melt into it when you (mostly) came to your senses and gently pushed him back.

He was looking right into your eyes, a pleading sort of look in them, as you broke away from the kiss.  “Boundaries,” you finished in a whisper.

“Yeah— okay,” he nodded, “I can do boundaries.”

He kissed you again, both of you getting a little more desperate as your arms draped around his shoulders.  It went on for quite some time, your breathing getting heavy again and the softest moans getting muffled by his lips as his body pressed against yours.

You looked up at him expectantly when he pulled back this time, and you bit your lip a little when you realized you were down almost as bad as he was.  “I think I’m gonna like working here,” he announced with a wide smile.