#or you will fuck up the finish and the wood will be Very Sad And Dry

[teaandinanity]

ughhh the internet is failing me

anyone have advice on cleaning painted wood furniture in a way that won’t damage the paint or the underlying wood? everything I’m seeing is either about ruining antiques by painting them beige or about trying to salvage an antique that has been assaulted with paint.

in this case the paint is a) very pretty and b) also antique and I REALLY don’t want to damage it but also I would like to clean the object in question and it’s like ‘I KNOW advice for this must exist SOMEWHERE but unfortunately ruining antiques has been The Big Thing for a while now.’

[scuderiahalf]

(almost) one year with you — c.sainz

pairing. carlos sainz x strategist!norris!fem!reader

summary. your boyfriend is usually so intelligent. when he makes one of the stupidest decisions of his life to break up with you, his best friend (and your idiot brother) decides to take matters into his own hands. 4.3k, 18+

warnings. breakups = makeup sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, reader is kind of a bitch but carlos is into it

masterlist.

.

"I'm going to kick the door open."

"Please, do not do that," Carlos says from behind you.

"You think I can't?"

Smartly, Carlos chooses not to voice any further opinions.

You kick the door, more out of frustration than an actual attempt to break it open.

"I'm going to murder you when I get out of here, Lando!" you shout against the door, not really caring if your idiot brother has hung around to hear the very real threat.

You may not actually kill him (you're still debating it) but you will definitely hit him. At least five times. Maybe more. And he's not getting any of your late-night stress-baked cookies for several months. Asshole.

You kick the door again, harder. The wood bends near the bottom from the impact, rattling in the doorframe but otherwise unmoving. Your groan turns into a yell of frustration, punctuated by you hitting the still closed door with both hands. You seriously cannot believe Lando would do this.

"Are you finished?"

Carlos sounds almost amused.

If he hadn't been literally thrown into the room by not just Lando but Max and Alex as well, you might think he's in on this whole scheme. Instead, you just glare at him, irritated that he's so calm while you're both being held against your will.

"Is being made to be near me that horrible?" Carlos says.

"Oh, fuck off."

"You are acting as if they will not have to let us out eventually."

"How long is that going to take? Huh? I don't want to be locked in here for hours. It's actually FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

You're shouting at the door again, hoping your dumbass brother and his stupid fucking friends can hear.

They all better be prepared for the consequences. There's no one better at holding a grudge than you.

You never should have trusted Lando when he had insisted you come to Charles Leclerc’s dumb yacht party. He never wants to be seen in public with you much less all but beg you to attend a party with all his friends who are so much cooler than you because he's an F1 driver and all his friends are, too, and you're just a strategist.

(You never thought that being a trackside strategist at Scuderia Ferrari would be preceded by "just" as though it isn't an impressive feat but with a brother like Lando Norris, nothing you do ever really seems to measure up. You're the reason Lando ever got into racing or F1 in the first place. So really, this is your own fault.)

You give up harassing the door (it locks from the inside so there must be something blocking it in the hallway) and start searching the room for another way out. It's a bedroom, and you're choosing to assume that it just happened to be the easiest place to trap you both and not a purposeful nudge to something untoward. Lando isn't that crude. You think.

After this little stunt, you don't think he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

You start checking all the drawers to see if there's anything useful. You don't actually know what you're looking for. Maybe like a fire axe or a hand saw so you can brute force your way out of here.

"We could talk," Carlos proposes.

"And give Lando what he wants? No, thank you."

"You are so proud. Can we not talk this out?"

"What's there to talk out, Carlos? You dumped me, remember?"

That shuts him up.

You refuse to look at him. Even with your back to him as you search through a completely empty dresser, you can feel the look on his face. Full lips pouting, big brown cow eyes all sad and pitiful. You'd fold like a cheap suit if you saw his pretty eyes right now and you're trying really hard to stay strong and hang onto your anger so you won't give in.

There's nothing in any of the dresser drawers. The nightstands are fruitless, too. The wardrobe houses only empty hangers, and not even the cheap wire ones that could be bent into something useful like a weapon to kill yourself with if things get any more tense in this tiny room.

"I regret it," he says.

You close the wardrobe with a heavy breath.

"I regretted it as soon as I said we should end it."

"Cry me a river, Sainz. Build a bridge. Get over it. You don't get to call me ‘nothing but a distraction’ then tell me you regret it and expect me to forgive you just like that—fuck this. I'm going to swim to shore."

You yank the balcony door open and climb up onto one of the chairs so you can get over the railing.

"Y/N!" Carlos curses in Spanish, scrambles after you and gets an arm around you before you can actually step up onto the railing. "What are you doing?!"

"I just said! I'm going to swim to shore. Let me go!"

Carlos picks you up like a purse dog and carries you back into the room. He stands in front of the balcony door after setting you down, blocking your only escape route.

"You cannot swim to shore. We are miles out of sea!"

"If it gets me out of this room, I'd do it!"

"Can you not just talk to me?"

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want to!"

"What are you afraid is to happen?"

"I don't have to explain myself. Especially not to you."

So, you don't explain yourself. You walk over to the couch and take a seat, arms and legs crossed, looking anywhere but at Carlos.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to that first date with Carlos last year. You know what you were signing up for. You knew all the judgement would be on you if/when you decided to go public. You knew Ferrari would have many things to say about your relationship, and they did, when you told them earlier in the season before it could potentially get ugly with a reveal from unsasvory sources.

You knew all of that and you went for it, anyway, because could you even call yourself a Norris if you didn't go after what you wanted? You knew what being with Carlos would bring but apparently, you were the only one.

After eleven amazing months together, Carlos got cold feet. You don't know how else to describe it. You had told your family after three months; he'd told his after just one. Everyone was happy for you. Your family loves Carlos, and the Sainz clan accepted you with open arms. You were so happy.

But as your relationship pushed a year, Carlos said you needed to talk, called you a distraction, subsequently hazardous for his line of work, and ended things.

Did you call him an emotionally stunted manchild before storming out of the cafe he asked to meet at? If you did, he surely deserved it.

A few weeks after that, you're where you are now, locked in a bedroom on a yacht while a party rages on several floors above. Carlos says he regrets breaking up with you, that he wanted to take back everything he said, but he already said it and that's how things are now.

You'll not be the girl he comes crawling back to whenever it's convenient for him. If going steady is a hazard for work, then an off again-on again situationship is definitely not OSHA-compliant. You refuse to lower yourself to being a doormat that Carlos wipes his feet on whenever he feels he has the time.

After a while of standing guard at the balcony door, Carlos makes a move to sit on the couch with you.

"No," you say.

He halts midstep.

"You can sit on the bed."

Slowly, as though giving you a chance to change your mind, Carlos sulks over to the bed and sits.

He's moving to Williams next year. He has only a handful of races left in rosso corsa. He doesn't know you're sitting on a job offer that could have you following him, a promotion to head strategist at the Oxfordshire team that you can't believe you're actually debating because of your standing with a man.

You've told no one of Williams's proposition. So, you really don't know why you open your mouth to tell Carlos of all people.

"Williams wants me as their head strategist."

He looks up, eyes bright, surprised but excited for you. "What? That is amazing."

"Yeah, I know it is," you say, glaring at him again. "I haven't accepted yet, though."

Carlos is quiet, then carefully says, "Because of me?"

"No," you say because it's just ridiculous for that to be the reason you're holding up contract negotiations, "Yes, because of you. Obviously. I don't want you thinking I'm following you. I'm not. I'm pursuing my career. So, I know that changes you being all regretful. I just want to clarify things before you hear about it from someone else.”

“Why would it change how I feel?”

“Because we’ll still be coworkers next season.”

“That changes it? What does it change?”

Carlos' accent (hot as fuck) and the way he doesn't always say things 100% correct (cute as fuck) are misleading for his actual understanding of the English language. So, you're really not sure what he's getting confused over.

He's leaving. You were supposed to be staying. No longer working together meant no distractions for him until you would meet up at a hotel after a shitty quali and he would fuck the shit out of you. Or something like that.

It'd feel good in the moment but you don't want him for just sex. You don't want casual. You don't want to be a convenient, low-maintenance, not-quite-official girlfriend. You won't do it. No matter how pretty he is.

And his plan to get you back was ruined now that you'd be moving to Williams for next season, anyway.

“I’d not be a distraction if I was staying at Ferrari. Now, we’ll both still be on the same team. Not convenient for you to still be in a toxic work environment, huh? So, you can cut the crap.”

“That has nothing to do with my regret."

"I won't be a casual fuck buddy who you can't stand to be around when it doesn't work for you."

"I never said that!"

He seems genuinely hurt by your implication but you won't fall for it, won't let it deter you.

"It's kind of implied. You know with the whole 'I have to focus on my driving' thing. Like, what the fuck were you doing for the rest of the time we were together? Nothing changed and you suddenly decided it was too much, then you want me back but I ruined that for you. You'll be seeing me next year, too, so don't even bother with the whole regret speech or whatever."

"I—," Carlos starts, then says nothing.

He can't seem to find the words.

"What? Nothing to say? You wanted to talk. Talk."

"If I am in a team with you or not," he says, slow, calculated, "It does not change that I regret what I said."

Carlos takes a second to think before continuing. That's where you two differ.

Carlos has always been incredibly intelligent. You knew he was gorgeous before you had ever met in person but his mind made him appeal even more to you when you first started working trackside last season. Long, intellectual conversations preceded him asking you out after his masterclass in Singapore.

You nearly started foaming at the mouth when he said "it's on purpose" to keeping your brother within DRS to hold off Mercedes. You were ready to jump his bones right then and there in the middle of the team celebration when he asked you to dinner before you flew back to England.

But he was a gentleman. (He didn't fuck you until after your second date, but it was a close thing that first night when you leaned over the center console to kiss him. You'd have ridden him right there in the front seat of that rental car if your idiot brother hadn't chosen then to walk by and make a scene. Kind of a mood killer.)

The two of you both found fascination in the other's way of thinking, Carlos' smooth logic and your chaotic brilliance. He is all thought and few words while you talk and talk until you find your solution.

You always found beauty in the contrast. You balance each other. Simultaneously alike and disimilar. He is someone you saw yourself building a life with. After nearly a year together, those are the kinds of thoughts you start to have about a partner.

"So, you regret it," you gather, "But do you still think I'm a distraction?"

"Of course, you are a distraction. I am in love with you. There is nothing more distracting than that."

You laugh, disbelieving. "You're in love with me but I'm distracting and you can't be with me? Why? Because you love racing more?"

"I was scared. I was stupid. I am stupid. I am."

"Self deprecation won't do you any favors. But, yeah, you are stupid. You're not making any sense."

"I was scared. You were everything I could think of. I thought I could not find a balance between you and racing. But without you, it is even worse. I want you as a distraction. I know that because I have lost you.”

“You haven’t,” you say before your brain even knows what you’re doing. “Not entirely, yet. Maybe… You’re not allowed to do this again. Ever.”

And you’re crying. Of course.

Carlos is at your side in record time, kneeling in front of you, taking immediate advantage of the crack in your defenses. “Never.”

“You can’t do shit like this. You can’t push me aside like I don’t matter. You can’t call me a distraction.”

“You are a distraction. In the best way.”

Unimpressed and wiping your tears, you say, “Wow. You’re such a poet.”

Carlos laughs thickly. “I love you.”

“Ugh, fuck off.”

You’re still wiping at your face. You didn’t cry when Carlos called it quits, refused to let him have any sort of hold over you when he pushed you aside but now, you’re crying. It’s in relief but you still feel your face getting hot from the embarrassment of it.

He knocks your hands aside to cup your cheeks. “You are the love of my life. I will do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.”

“S’not broken. Just bent. Or whatever the saying is. I don’t fucking care—just kiss me.”

Carlos’ “yes, ma’am” is muffled against your lips.

It’s only been three weeks (three and a half but who’s counting) since he last kissed you but it feels like an eternity.

It’s salty from your tears and wet, also from the tears but more from the way you let his tongue into your mouth after probably not enough time has passed. You don’t care. You just want him.

“I love you," you break the kiss to say. "Don't leave me."

"I won't."

"Say it back."

"I love you. I love you I love you I love you."

.

His words jumble between English and Spanish as he kisses down your body.

Your breath catches as he pulls your hips further down the cushion you're sat on. Stupid F1 driver muscles. You want to sink your teeth into his bicep, make him walk around with the bruise, a reminder of who he belongs to.

He slips his fingers into the waistband of your pants, looks up for permission. You lift your hips. You've missed what his big brown eyes look like when they're all dark with want.

He pulls your pants and underwear down and tosses them aside, tugging you even closer to the edge of the couch. Your legs part. He puts your knees on his shoulders then finally pushes his face between your thighs.

You let your head fall back as you sigh, probably sounding ridiculous but he's always been good at this.

He had you ride his face one time. He practically had to beg to get you to agree. There was a lot of him gripping onto you, arms wrapped around your thighs and hips to force you to stay in place. He'd kept you there until you couldn't stay upright or fight against his hold, coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with just his mouth.

Then, he'd fucked you until you came for a fifth time. (You tell a guy one time about how your last partner hadn't the patience to get more than one orgasm out of you, and he makes it his life's mission to get three or more every time you go at it. How terrible for you. Ha.)

He eats you out like a man starving, like he has something to prove. To be fair, he does but he's not going to be entirely back in your good graces just because he's helping you get off for the first time in three and a half weeks. This is just extra credit.

One of his hands finds yours. He tangles your fingers and holds your hand as he involves his free fingers in slipping past your entrance. You open up for him with obscene ease, legs falling apart even further.

He fucks you with a single finger slow, slow, slow while his tongue licks languidly at your clit.

"Carlos," you whine his name.

You don't need all the pleasure you already know he's more than capable of giving you. You just need to get off already.

"I will get you there, hermosa," he promises with a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Get there faster; I don't want my idiot brother thinking better of his insane plan and letting us out while you're nose-deep in my cunt."

Carlos huffs a laugh. You can feel the air against where you're wet. It makes you squirm.

Usually, Carlos would tell you to stay still and be patient but seems to think better of it this time. You would probably still do as he says, circumstance regardless, but he doesn't need to know that. He just presses his lips back to your pussy.

He sucks on the hardened little bundle of nerves at the joint of your labia just how he knows will make you go limp and needy. He pushes a second then a third finger into you, the stretch just that much more than you can manage with your own, smaller digits.

You could've gotten it with the neglected dildo that lives somewhere mostly forgotten in your closet. There was something that felt so final about bringing out the toy you haven't needed since that second date. Thankfully, you still don't need it. You should consider just pitching it, at this point.

You push your hand through Carlos' hair, brushing the ridiculously perfect locks off his forehead so you can watch his stupid, beautiful face as he goes down on you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby," you praise.

His dark eyes flicker up to you, exhaling against your exposed cunt and shifting his knees on the floor.

You're sure if he had a hand free, he'd be palming himself over his pants. He gets off on you getting off and praise goes straight to his dick. You've got this fantasy of making him come completely untouched but you might need to do actual research on that before it becomes a reality.

He sticks his tongue down with his fingers, lapping at your hole and spitting your wetness onto your clit just because it's hot. Like the way he's slobbering over you isn't enough to make the glide of his tongue over your clit smooth and delectable.

"Come on, baby. Don't tease. Not now."

Carlos makes this little displeased noise in the back on his throat.

Quickies aren't really in Carlos' sexual vocabulary. He occasionally likes it as rough and fast as the next dick-haver but he's more of a spread you open and make love to you for hours at a time kind of guy.

He took you to a secluded little cabana in Mallorca for a week during summer break specifically so you two could spend days on end doing nothing but loving on each other. Then, he took you to meet his family and you had to pretend like you hadn't spent the majority of the week prior with their golden child's dick or fingers or tongue inside of you.

Currently, you're just wanting to find relief without Lando or some other F1 driver walking in on you first.

"Carlos, baby—please."

Carlos likes when you play nice. When you're so desperate for it that your bossy exterior goes away. You tell yourself that you exploit this because your unending pride doesn't like the alternative that you really just are that desperate for it.

He finally starts to finger bang you properly. Combine that with the obscene slurping sounds he's making against your clit and the lack of action for nearly a month and no one could really blame you for not taking long to hit your high.

Heat curls and explodes in your gut and up your spine, back arching, lungs gasping, Carlos' name falling from your mouth as your thighs try to close around his head. He gets his elbows up to hold your legs open. His fingers keep fucking you through your orgasm. He pulls his other hand free of your grip to massage your clit with his thumb, kissing your thighs, pubes, stomach.

He captures your lips in a kiss while you're still riding it out. It's intense and leg-shaking after so long without, emotion-driven, which is the best kind but not worth it after knowing what the fear of losing him is like. You can hardly kiss him back, face pulled in pleausre, moans spilling past your lips that Carlos swallows unburdened.

You tuck your face into his shoulder as he drags it out just to the precipice of overstimulation. You tug him into you, arms around his shoulders, fingers tugging the hair at the base of his skull. He lets his fingers rest inside of you, rests that thumb against your clit so he can hold you back with one arm, at least.

You just breathe for a moment, composing yourself where he can't see your face. The worst may be over but the level of trust you'd built over months together would not be so easily reinstated. He'd have to work hard for that, much harder than a sinlge mind-blowing orgasm.

"Don't leave me," you say in a whisper. "You can't, okay?"

"I won't."

"Promise."

"I promise I will not leave you again. I am the most dumb man if I lose you another time. I will deserve it, then."

"Be smart, then. Like I know you have the capacity to be."

Carlos pulls his fingers out. He catches your shiver, still wrapped up in his one arm. He kisses your cheek before finding something to clean his hands with. You've pulled your pants back on when he's finished.

"Likelihood someone heard us?" you prompt.

"Heard you, you mean?"

You kick at him as he comes back over to you. "Watch it."

He tucks you against his side once he's sat. "Scale?"

"One to a hundred."

"90, at least."

You smack his chest. "Dick."

"You are very loud, mi amor. You talk so much, and you make such pretty noises."

"Don't insult me immediately after I've forgiven you."

You've not drawn away from him at all. In fact, you've tucked your feet up on the couch to curl into him fully.

Carlos knows this. He presses a kiss to your temple.

"I love you. I am sorry I am so stupid."

"I guess I've just got to have enough brains and beauty for the both of us."

"You have always."

You hide your smile in his chest. He holds your thigh when you put your legs across his lap. Now you've got him back, you want to be as close as physically possible. Whoever first said they want to be inside their partner's skin really gets it.

.

George Russell ends up getting sent to let you two out. Evidently, your brother fled the scene of the crime once the yacht returned to port in the early hours of the morning. He dumped the chore of opening Pandora's box on an innocnet bystander.

"I am so sorry—"

"Oh, clever," you say when you spot the poor Brit, "He sends an uninvolved party to let me out like I couldn't track him anywhere in the world. I've his trainer's phone number and Jon likes me more than him. I am going to beat his skinny little muppet ass. When I find him—"

You trip over the tangle of chairs that had been used to barricade the bedroom door from the outside.

Carlos catches your elbow.

"Amor, it is late," he says. "Sleep, first, hm?"

You relax into his hold a bit, a silent concession. It'll be easier to murder your little brother after a good night's sleep, anyway.

"So, are you two...?" George trails off.

You cut him a glare.

"Nothing. Never mind. Apologies."

He speeds around the two of you and off the boat.

"The 2019 rookies are all terrified of you."

"Good."

Carlos laughs. "I am excited to see what Alex is like with you next year."

You smile.

Next year, you'll still be working with Carlos. It'll be at a different team, a midfielder at best but at least Carlos will still be on the grid. He'll still find increasingly laughable excuses to be in engineering just to see you. He'll still come home to you, the same that you'll come home to him.

A future with Carlos is still in the cards. He'll be damned if he messes it up again, you know that much.

[darkbluekies]

never trust a cupcake

Female!yandere x male!reader

Summary: mean boy yn got too popular for Hedwig's taste, so she took him

A/N: started to write this oneshot back in August/September but never finished, so I'm releasing what I had done as a drabble instead :)

Warnigns: hedwig goes insane, poison/drugs, knife, kidnapping, throwing up

You can't remember what happened. You were eating the cupcakes you got from Hedwig and suddenly … you felt sick. You must have fallen asleep. But where are you now? You look around, head pounding. You're in a … kitchen? A very fancy kitchen. Whatever Hedwig put in the cupcakes, you still feel sick and as if you're about to throw up. You try to stand up from the chair you've been placed on and quickly notice that your hands are tied behind your back and your feet to the legs. Confusion starts to fade into anger and you tug at the ropes harshly. One thing leads to another and you end up on the floor. The loud sound of wood hitting marble echoes through the large room. You manage to lift your head in the last second before it smashes against the floor.

Suddenly, a familiar face runs in. The anger runs off. Confusion is back.

"Hedwig?" you pant.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you were awake!" she apologizes quickly and pulls the chair up with you on it. She cups your cheeks and she lets her hand wander into your hair. "Are you hurt? You didn't hit your head in the fall, did you?"

You turn your head back and forth to get free from her grip.

"What have you done?" you ask harshly.

"W-What do you mean?" Hedwig asks unsurely.

"Did you kidnap me?!"

"Y-Y/N, please don't say it like that! I didn't kidnap you! I brought you home!" She sighs and lets her shoulders slump, voice grow small. "I couldn't watch you be swarmed by all the girls in school … I had to have you by myself. It doesn't matter if you're mean to me … I still love you."

You stare at her in disbelief. Hedwig has always been clingy and suffocating, but you could never have anticipated that she would kidnap you.

"Hedwig, what the actual fuck?" you breathe out. "Untie me. Now."

"Not yet", she answers hesitantly. "You have to calm down first."

"Calm- …?" You snap. "Who are you to tell me to calm down?! You fucking kidnapped me! How sick in the head do you have to be in the head to do such a goddamn thing?! Untie me now!"

Hedwig’s just standing there … listening. You can tell that something shifts behind her eyes. She's trying to hide that she gets sad. As if she's telling herself that she doesn't care if you're mean, when in reality she does. Telling herself that you can be mean makes her feel better about herself.

"You don't need to be scared", Hedwig says carefully. "I'm not going to hurt you. I didn't mean for us to start our relationship like this … but you got too popular for your own good."

You scoff. Fear has started to creep into your heart.

Hedwig walks over to the kitchen isle where a glass dome covers a neatly stacked tower of cupcakes. She picks out one and walks over to you. The sight of it causes your stomach to turn.

"Here, I think you should eat", she says.

"I'm not eating anything from you", you almost growl. "Do you really think I trust you?"

"This isn't dangerou. It's a normal cupcake." She breaks off a bit and puts it in her mouth. "See?"

You watch how she breaks off another bit and moves closer, close enough for you to smell her perfume. It's sweet enough to make your head spin.

"Open your mouth", she says softly.

"Hedwig …", you say distantly. "I feel sick."

Hedwig suddenly becomes alert and runs for a bucket. She returns and holds it up to your face. The bucket smells of strong cleaning chemicals and that is enough to awoken the beast in your stomach. It spurs out of you like a waterfall.

"Good boy", she says softly, running her fingers through your hair. "Get it out of you. You're doing so good. My good boy …"

Finally, you're cleansed. Hedwig puts the bucket in the hallway and gets you a glass of cold water. You hesitate before gulping it down. She tries again to feed you the cupcake.

"I'm never going to eat cupcakes again", you mutter and glare at her.

"Alright … I understand", she sighs and walks over to the fridge. "Cheese?"

You don't answer. You'd rather have cheese than the cupcake, but you'll not tell her. Hedwig returns with a charcuterie board. She picks up a cheddar cheese.

"Open your mouth", she smiles.

This time, you obey. She places the cheese on your tongue and watches how you chew.

"You're such a good boy", she says dreamily and caresses your cheek. "My boy."

She feeds you some more pieces.

"Can I untie you now?" she asks. "I want to change you out of your school uniform."

You nod frantically. Hedwig sits on her knees to untie your feet and sneaks behind your back. As soon as you're free, you jump up and run.

"Y/N!" Hedwig gasps.

You run over to the front door and grab the majestic handles, but it doesn't matter how much you drag, they're as locked as can be.

"Y/N", she says disappointingly, walking towards you.

"Don't!" you shout and run past her, towards the living room.

You grab the TV remote and throw it towards one of the tall windows. The glass doesn't budge.

"It's not cheap glass", Hedwig says behind you. "You won't be able to break it."

"Let me go, you psycho", you hiss and turn around.

She stands with her hands behind her back and watches you carefully.

"Please stop trying to get out, it won't work", she says. "Even if you get out of the house, you won't get out of the garden. Please stop before you hurt yourself." She takes a step forward. "If you just accept your fate you will be happy. I won't hurt you. I will worship you."

"I don't fucking need that. I don't need you."

You can see that it shatters something in her. She stumbles back a step and gulps.

"Don't say that … please", she says weakly, tears entering her eyes as she shakes her head. "You're just scared. I understand. I don't mean to scare you, but-"

"I'm leaving. Open the front door."

"No! No, you can't!"

You push past her and storm towards the front door. You turn around to tell her to hurry up, but you're met with her holding a knife in her trembling hands. The very hands she hid behind her back. You flinch.

“I want you to go upstairs”, she sniffles and nods at the staircase to your right. “I want to change your clothes a-and tuck you in.” She wipes her runny nose with her white sleeve. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You glance at the knife, at the locked door and at the staircase. Slowly, you move up the marble stairs, head spinning. You’re not angry anymore … only terrified. Hedwig isn’t just annoying … she’s insane.

[cowgurrrl]

Sleeping on the Blacktop

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: guys we did it i wrote smut i actually like (ps this was edited but also not reread because I’ve been trying to write it for five hours so if you see any mistakes no you didn’t)

Summary: The Land of No Return [4.7k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, platonic expressions of love, the mortifying ordeal of being known, sexting, we finally get to know about reader's secret tattoos, smut, Joel the Menace makes his long awaited return with that dirty fucking mouth, mutual masturbation, phone sex (??(sure)), protected sex (no Miller babies for them) p in v stuff, June being indulgent with describing Joel Miller, anxiety, I think that's it??

Music floods the kitchen as you and Andie work on making the best "last supper but with women" possible. The lamps glow orange on the walls and create funny shadows when you dance together, pulling each other in and out to old jazzy tunes. You laugh when she throws a string of spaghetti at your fridge to test if it's ready a little too hard, and it splatters water everywhere. You, honestly, might be a little delirious. You're both in your pajamas, and you've been watching movies all day. You exchange what you remember from New Year's Eve and cringe at what the other fills in. You drink cheap wine from plastic cups and snack on chips as the food cooks. 

It feels like high school again, with all the girlish giggling and inside jokes you trade back and forth, except this time, instead of her going back to her house ten minutes up the road, she's going back to her apartment half the world away. No matter how long you get with her, it's never enough. Thousands of miles and different schedules will do that. Keeping long-distance friendships as an adult is just as hard, if not harder, than making new ones. 

When dinner is ready, you fix your plates and sit next to each other at your messy dining room table— the IKEA one she helped you build when Henry walked out with the first one— and eat. Paint stains the wood of the table, and half-finished works are scattered around the dining room, but you barely notice them as you talk. She tells you about the things waiting for her in Vienna: work, her cat, Oslo, and piano lessons. You don't have to pretend to be envious because you are. You have to go back to school and the Real World once you drop her off at the airport in the morning. You wish you could go with her. 

"Alright, c'mon. Spill it. What's going on with you and Joel?" She asks in between bites of garlic bread. You laugh and shake your head.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Bullshit. Tommy told me he saw you guys."

"Speaking of Tommy," you pivot. "What's going on there? You two seemed pretty chummy." You raise your eyebrows at her, and a big smile takes over her face. She takes another bite of food to buy herself some time, but there's no way you're letting her off the hook, especially after all her teasing about Joel.

"Nothing. We were just… talking." She finally says, and you give her a look. 

"Talking?"

"Yes. People talk. You should try it sometime."

"Was it talking like we are now or talking like Joel and I talked?" You hum, and she kicks her feet as she leans forward.

"So you and Joel did talk." 

"Well, we probably would've if somebody didn't come barging in."

"Goddammit, I told him to wait," she groans. "Sorry, girl."

"Yeah, me too," you say, and she laughs. You bump her knee and give her a look. "Alright, your turn. What's going on with Tommy?" 

"Nothing that could actually turn into anything." 

"Aw, c'mon. Don't count yourself out so early."

"It's not counting myself out. It's being realistic. I live in Vienna. He lives here. I'm not ready to come back to the States, and he seems content, so there's nothing that can happen," she shrugs. "It was a fling. A very nice fling, but a fling nevertheless." She seems a little too sad for it to have been just a fling. They exchanged numbers, and you've caught her texting him several times. She said she did kiss him on New Year's Eve (before she threw up), but they didn't go any further besides flirting the next morning. You watched them test each other at breakfast, and he seemed just as interested in her as she was in him. They'd be cute together. She sighs and pushes her pasta around in her bowl like a dejected character from a period piece.

"Tommy is very handsome." You comment, and she grabs your arm, animating all of a sudden. 

"Dude, I've been dying to talk about it. What the fuck are they putting in the water here? It's insane." 

"It's annoying, right?" 

"So annoying." She agrees. You laugh about it together and, finally, give her the details she's been waiting so patiently for. When you finish your story, her hands are over her mouth, and her eyes are wide. "Oh, my God. You have to get him back."

"I know, I know! He's driving me up a fucking wall." You say, taking a bite of food. It will get cold if you don't stop talking, but you also don't care. 

"You could surprise him with some lingerie or something." She suggests, and you groan. 

"God, I don't even remember the last time I bought lingerie."

"All the more reason to buy some." 

"I don't know. I feel like I could just show up naked, and he'd be happy with that."

"He sounds like a keeper then."

"Yeah, I don't know," you shrug. "I like him a lot. I just… don't know if it's sustainable."

"Why?" She asks. You almost want to gesture around your messy apartment and half-put together life as if it will answer her question.

"I mean, he's a good guy, and we're having fun, but for how long? His kid's gonna be in at least one of my classes until she graduates. Not to mention, he has another daughter who is in medical school. We both work full-time. And then there's the whole having to keep it a secret thing. It could get really old really fast." You sigh. 

"What if it doesn't?"

"What?"

"What if it doesn't get old? What if it ends up working out?" She asks. You take a deep breath. "You didn't even think about that possibility. Did you?"

"I just don't wanna get hurt."

"That's a very real possibility. Things could go wrong. He could break your heart. You could lose your job. Society as we know it could come crashing down, and you know what? The sun's still gonna come up the next day. The birds will still sing, and I will still be here," she says, putting her hand over yours. You purse your lips as you process her words. "You deserve nice things, kid. Don't count yourself out so early." She echoes your earlier sentiment, and you smile.

She's right. Of course, she's right. You don't let yourself think good things could happen because you're so focused on all the bad. She's known you for so long she can read your thoughts and know your habits before you can. What a horrifying and beautiful thing it is to be known inside and out like that. 

"Maybe you should've been a writer instead of a musician," you say, and she laughs. You squeeze her hand and sigh as you look at her. "I'm really gonna miss you."

"I'm really gonna miss you, too."

"I wish you could stay."

"I know," she says. "But you need an excuse to come to Vienna, and I need an excuse to come to Austin, and if I stay, we lose that."

"I guess that's true."

"Besides, if I stop making trans-Atlantic calls, I think my phone company would be concerned." She points out, making you laugh. You know she's telling you what she's told herself this whole time. She loves Vienna, but you know she gets homesick. You know she's trying really hard to convince herself to get back on that plane. You don't push her about staying again. You just indulge in her presence. 

"I love you." You say softly, and she smiles.

"I love you, too." She says. 

It means so much more than just "I love you." It means, "I love you, and I want us both to eat well." It means, "I love you, and I can't imagine doing this life without you." It means, "I love you, and I know you have to go." Never any buts. Always ands, because love like this knows no bounds. Not borders, not time zones, not lifestyles. 

You finish the dinner you made and clean the kitchen side by side before climbing into bed and staying up as late as possible to try and get Andie back on Vienna time. In the morning, you drag yourselves out of bed and sing in the car on the way to get coffee, and when the time comes for you to get her suitcase out of your backseat and watch her disappear behind glass doors, you hug her tight and tell her you love her again. She repeats the sentiment with another squeeze and deep breath that tells you how close to tears she is. Then, she turns around and doesn't look back to prove she's strong enough to leave. She doesn't need to prove anything to you. You always knew she was strong enough to do this.

The car ride back is emotional and lonely and tinged with the bass line of Ribs by Lorde, but your phone buzzes as you pull back into your apartment complex with tears staining your cheeks. 

Thanks for letting us meet Andie. She's a really sweet person. I'm sorry she has to leave today.

You don't remember telling him what day she was leaving, but she might've told Tommy, and Tommy told Joel. You smile and text him back. 

Thanks for taking care of us. She only had good things to say about you and Tommy. We'll have to all hang out again the next time she's home. 

And then.

Thanks for checking on me. I really appreciate it. 

Of course. I'm always a wreck when I have to drop Sarah off at the airport. I'm around if you wanna talk. Ellie's hanging out with some friends, and Tommy's on-site today.

You stare at the messages and debate your options. He basically just told you he's home alone and has nothing to do for the rest of the day. And yes, he is probably being sweet and really offering to talk if you're feeling lonely, but you also know how talking usually goes for you two. You smirk as you type out a message.

Just talk?

It seems like he can't type fast enough.

What else would you wanna do?

I think you made some promises you need to follow through on, Miller.

I guess I did. 

Come over and I can do just that.

Actually, I have some work to get done :( maybe next time?

You lock your phone and bound up to your apartment, conscious of the sudden lengthening of time between messages. It's fun to imagine him trying to come up with a response that respects your boundaries but also lets you know how needy he is. He may have started this little game, but you're gonna be the one to perfect it. Thus begins the days upon days of not sexting, but not not sexting. 

At first, it's just messages about how you miss him and wish he was around. He tries to find an excuse to come over, but you effectively cockblock him at every turn. Your response times get a little slower the more worked up he gets, so he has to figure it out on his own. You never would've thought Joel Miller, a man with gray in his beard and wrinkles lining his face, could be such a fast texter, but you figure there's nothing more desperate than a horny man. 

Messages quickly escalate to pictures. They start off innocent enough: a picture of the painting you're working on, but your bare legs give away the fact that you're not wearing pants, a picture of him stepping out of a hot shower, his bare chest slightly red and glistening from the water, a picture of you wearing the burnt orange shirt he sent you home in New Year's Day with no bra on underneath. Then, you get a little bolder. After a quick trip to the mall, you pose in front of the mirror in a short delicate white night down with pretty lace details on the top, the hem barely hitting the tops of your thighs and showing off the large tattoos hiding there. You look hot, and imagining Joel's reaction to you makes you flush and rub your thighs together to get some relief.

It's true that Joel would've been happy if you showed up to his house wearing (or not wearing) anything, but when the photo pings to his phone, he's never been more grateful for Victoria's Secret in his life. His breath hitches in his throat, and he quickly tucks his phone into his chest like someone is gonna come up behind him and see what he's looking at. He's barely glanced at the photo and he's already straining in his jeans. 

Goddamn, he texts back. You're so fucking pretty, baby.

You like it?

It's a dumb question, but you really don't care.

It's perfect.

What do you like about it?

Besides the fact that you're the one wearing it? I like that it makes you look like more of an angel than you already are, and I like that I can finally see those tattoos you've been hiding from me. 

Bingo, you think to yourself. He was able to catch glimpses of the large pieces hiding on your back and shoulders at the art gallery, and when he picked up on New Year's Eve, you caught him staring at them each time. You thought he was following the inky lines up your body, but you couldn't be sure. Now, he's giving himself away, and you're practically buzzing with excitement.

You turn around in the mirror and arch your back, perfectly showing off your ass and the intricate tattoo lining your spine, and snap a picture. It's one of the largest ones you have, and it's also the easiest to hide. Besides, you definitely didn't get it for your own enjoyment. You live for moments like this. You send him the picture and smile as you type.

Like this one?

Your phone rings not even two minutes after he reads the message. You giggle when he groans into the receiver instead of greeting you.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me, baby." He says, his voice so deep you can practically feel it rumble against your ear.

"I told you I'd get you back." You say it like it's obvious, but he just hums. There's shuffling on his end, and all you can do is wait for him to say something else.

"What else have you been hidin' underneath all those little dresses, hm?" He asks. "Tattoos. The most fuckin' perfect tits I've ever seen. Anythin' else I should know bout? 'S your pussy as pretty as the rest of ya?" You didn't mean for him to hear you gasp, but he seemed pleased that he could pull such a sound from you without even being in the same room. Just like that, any doubt or reservation you had left flies out the window. You finally cave and slip your hand down your panties to glide your fingers through your folds. "Am I makin' you wet, sweetheart?"

"Fuck," you mumble. It's absurd how turned on you are by this whole thing. Your fingers slowly circle your clit, and your head gets so fuzzy you almost forget to respond to him. "Yes, Joel." 

"Are you playin' with yourself?" He asks, and you nod even though he can't see you. "Poor thing. I wish I could be there to help ya. I'd have you spread open for me so I can touch you however I want. Figure out what you like and what makes you cry for me." You put him on speaker and throw your phone down so you can focus on gliding through your wetness, your middle finger pushing into you slowly.

"What... what would you do?" You ask, breathless. 

"I'd start by usin' my fingers just to feel you out, and I bet you'd feel so fuckin' good. I'd play with your clit until you're beggin' me to put a finger inside you, and I'd slip two in slowly while kissin' your inner thighs and watchin' you squeeze my fingers," you moan as you listen to his raspy voice and fuck yourself to his words. You try to imagine what his fingers would feel like inside of you. How different compared to yours, how much better they'd feel. Goddammit. "Then, I'd use my mouth on you while my fingers move in and out. I'd lick you all over and feel you soakin' me when I suck on your clit." He says, and you return to rubbing said bundle of nerves, faster this time, as you become acutely aware of his labored breathing over the phone. 

Is he touching himself? The idea of him holding the phone with one hand and fisting his cock with the other sends a wave of heat down your spine, and you keen into your own hand. A shaky breath and muttered curse leave his lips, and then you know for sure what he's doing. Your head spins, and you'd be embarrassed by how close you are just from his voice if you weren't entirely focused on the pleasure clouding your brain. 

"Fuck, Joel-"

"I know, baby, I know," he coos sympathetically. Another lewd moan leaves you as you get closer and closer to the edge, stars threatening the corners of your vision. "Are you gonna come for me like this?" He asks, and you hum in the affirmative, not trusting yourself to form words. "Come on. Let me hear you. I wanna hear what you sound like when you fall apart." His voice is coming faster and breathier, a light growl at the end of his words. How are you to deny him that? 

The speed of your fingers on your clit increases, but it's his own broken whimpers that finally do it. Your back arches as the waves wash over you, and noises you didn't even know you could make escape your lips. You can vaguely hear a broken sigh accentuated by a particularly hot whine from Joel's end. Henry was never as vocal or talkative as Joel is. None of your past partners have been. In the aftershocks of your orgasm, you have a quick passing thought that he might ruin dating for you. You might never want to see anyone else who doesn't treat you like this. You might be fucked.

"Joel," you say when you have control over your thoughts again. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

"Yeah?"

"Get the fuck over here now."

Joel's house is on the other side of Austin. With traffic, getting to your apartment can take anywhere from twenty to forty-five minutes, depending on how fast you're willing to go and how many red lights you can pass under. Joel gets there in fifteen. You're still in the flouncy dress you bought specifically to torture him, but by the time you open the door for him, you're much less interested in making his life any more miserable than you already have over the past week. 

He doesn't hesitate to charge into your apartment, grab your face, and kiss you like his life depends on it. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and you open to him, clinging to him as his hands move from your face to the backs of your thighs to pick you up. You squeal in surprise and lock your legs around his waist to bring him closer and keep yourself from falling. Even though he obviously came over the phone at the same time you did, he's hard again and pressing against your bare pussy. He hisses when you grind against him, and his jaw clenches as he pulls away like he's in pain.

"Where's your bedroom?" He asks, wide eyes searching the hallway behind you.

"First door on the left." You say as you duck your head to kiss his neck. He sighs and indulges in the feeling of your tongue against his skin before he finally finds his feet and stumbles into your bedroom. You're halfway through marking him before he lays you down and immediately rucks his hands up your thighs, spreading them apart and making you whine. 

"You okay?" He asks, stopping all movement to scan over your face for any signs of discomfort. You nod and reach for the buttons of his jeans.

"Yes. Just need you." You say. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Joel, I just came from the sound of your voice. Yes, I'm fucking sure." You say, a little frenzied as you pull at the hem of his shirt. He laughs as he pulls it over his head and quickly unzips his jeans. 

"Feisty." 

"Can you blame me?" You ask, and he shakes his head. He tugs his jeans and his briefs down at the same time and unveils all of him to you in one go. He's beautiful. You knew he would be, but seeing the graying chest hairs and the pretty happy trail leading down to his hard cock in between his strong, tan thighs is an entirely different thing. You reach for him, desperate to feel the weight of him in your hands, but he stops you by slipping the tiny straps of your night gown down your arms. 

He carefully pulls the fabric down your body until it's pooled next to his clothes on the floor. His eyes fall to the black lines wrapping around your shoulders, and he draws his eyes to your collarbones and sternum, his breathing stuttering at the sight of you laid out under him. 

"So much prettier than I imagined." He murmurs as he ducks his head to kiss the valley between your breasts. You smile and run your hands through his curls as he mouths at your chest, leaving red marks in his wake and making you press him closer.

"How many times have you thought about this?" You ask. Has he always wanted you in the way you've wanted him? You're almost positive he has. There's no other way to explain the reverence with which he's looking at you. He's so wrapped up in you it's almost suffocating. Every time you glance at his face, he's staring at you with soft eyes and blown pupils. 

"Lost count." There it is. The confirmation. You grab at his ribs to bring him closer, pulling him over you to kiss him slow and deep. Despite the heat of him against you and the ache between your thighs, you both take the time to savor it. That is until his overthinking takes over. "I didn't bring a condom. Fuck, I was in a rush. I didn't think." He says quickly, like he's waiting for you to back out or push him away. You bring your thumb up to the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows and smooth it away, kissing his jaw.

"You think I would get you all worked up to not be prepared? C'mon, baby," you turn the nickname around on him, and he leans into your hand like a cat. "Top drawer." You say. He scrambles to your bedside table and grabs the first one he can find as you move onto all fours while he's distracted. You listen for the foil ripping and the subtle sound of the latex fitting over him. You can't stop the smirk from forming when he looks up and sees the sight in front of him.

"Fuckin' Hell," he mutters. Your back is arched perfectly, your hair gathered over your shoulder, and the tattoo you got done so many years ago is on display for him. "You are so goddamn perfect." He says as he presses his chest into your back and kisses your shoulder. He plants a few more kisses across your neck and back, making you wait longer than you already have, and just when you think you're going crazy, he slowly pushes into you and punches all the air from your lungs. 

He's big. Bigger than anyone you've been with before, and he seems to know that. He rolls his hips, and you moan, gripping at the sheets under you for stability as you adjust. His breathing is ragged behind you, and he groans when you involuntarily clench around him. "You okay?" He asks, his voice straining. His patience and self-control should be fucking studied. 

"Yeah, I'm okay." You assure him, and he nods. He starts to move slowly at first, but when you start whining and shaking under him, he snaps. You're both impatient. Months of following the rules and caring about what other people could think or say tumble out of your heads as he sets a rough pace. You've been dreaming about this and pushing it away since he walked into your classroom that day, and now that it's happening, you can't hide how desperate you are for him. You cry his name as he fucks into you deeply, no part of your bodies not touching, but it's still not close enough.

"You're so fuckin' good for me, baby. Jesus fuck," he moans into your ear, his uneven breaths echoing into your skull. "You feel so good." 

He sits back and brings you with him, changing the angle and forcing him deeper inside of you as his hand snakes around your waist and dips to play with your clit. You curse loudly and dig your nails into his forearm as bright pleasure courses through your veins. "'M gonna come if you keep doing that," you warn, your voice high and strained as he adds a little more pressure. 

"C'mon, honey, come on my cock for me. Please, I want it." It could be the slight whine in his voice or the fact that he's begging you for it, or the fact that the tight circles he's rubbing into your clit are making you see stars, but you come hard. You rely on him to hold you upright as he fucks you through your high, the slick between your thighs growing as his own orgasm washes over him, and he moans directly in your ear, an unexpected but not unpleasant gift. You think you could get off again just to the sounds he makes when he's coming. 

You stay like that for a second, wrapped up in each other and breathing hard with him still inside you, before he finally finds the courage to slip out of you with only a tiny pained moan. He carefully guides you onto your back, your bones jelly, and kisses your cheek before he pads off to the bathroom to throw away the used condom. 

It's quiet again in the apartment, but it's not lonely anymore. He makes himself at home in your space, asking if he can get water and snacks from your kitchen and walking around naked as the day he was born. "I wanna make sure you've got enough energy for round two." He says, making you laugh.

"Are you finally gonna make good on your promise to take your time with me?" 

"Fuck yeah." He says, coming back to kiss your lips one more time before walking to the kitchen. It's like if he goes a few minutes without tasting you, he can't function, or at least, that's what he makes it seem like. You're more than receptive to the attention and can only watch as he walks around. Your trust in your legs is not strong enough to get up just yet. 

In the domestic silence, it would be easy for your mind to run rampant with rogue thoughts and anxieties, but when Joel returns to the bedroom with snacks, bottles of water, and those stupidly sweet eyes, they get pushed to the back burner. He gets under the covers and pulls you into him, his warm body grounding you to this moment and not letting your thoughts stray. He presses kisses to your hair and your face every so often as you talk about everything and nothing. 

Somehow, it feels natural, like you've been doing this the whole time or like everything was leading up to this. Maybe it was. Still, you'll need to talk about this. You know you will.

Just... not yet.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01

[tan1shere]

Changes

Ellie williams x female reader !

A/n: ahhh new series alert ⚠️! Hope you guys enjoy part 1 I'll be working on part two over the next few days MUAH

Summary: Ellies the bad girl in the school but she takes a liking to the reader, everyone's worried but the reader somehow changes her for the better

Warnings: fluff, bad girl Ellie, not really anything flirting, swearing? This is set at college/uni so they're a bit older then 19? Mighttt have smut in future chapters !

Masterlist || pt 2 ! Pt 3 !

It was frightening being the new girl. You were shy, very shy. You didn't know at all how to make friends, wandering the halls with your books clutched to yourself. It was overwhelming with how many people there were, you just wanted to get to your last class then go to your second home. The library. You had been waiting all day to finish and head straight there. You had heard good things about the schools library. It was massive, full of so many books. Old and full of memories, it was ancient.

You just sat down in a chair for your last class of the day when some girls approached you. "Oi, dork." You look up from your book seeing a tall brunette with a few blue streaks in it. You await her words, wondering what she wanted. "You new here or something? I don't recognize you." You nod. "I am yeah." She looks down at your books. "Stella." You keep your gaze on her. "Oh- im-" She gets down to your level. "I don't care. You're in my seat." You look at where you were and giggle just a bit. "What are we 16?" You fucked up. She slams her hands down on the desk making you jolt back.

"Wrong. Answer." You widen your eyes, swallowing. "S-sorry." You stutter, going to get up when a hand gets placed on your shoulder. You turn your head to a tall copper haired girl. "Leave her be Stella." She stares coldly at her. Stella just smirks. "You haven't called me back Williams." You look at the girl beside you. "Yeah cuz I don't keep in contact with egotistical sluts like you." You almost gasp, shocked by her language. "Harshhh. No need to get bitchy." The girl chuckles. "Youre one to talk. Pestering someone so innocent. Just sitting there minding her own business." Stella looks at the girl like she's crazy. "And you're so different? You bug anyone and everyone." The girl pouts. "Sad it's not you? Is that burning your ego even more?" Stella rolls her eyes. "Whatever." She spits going to leave.

"You alright?" The girl asks. You nod, putting your hair behind your ears. "Thank you." She nods also. "I'm Ellie. You're new huh?" You nod again, not use to all these people conversing with you. "Well I'll see you round new girl." You watch as she walks to the back of the class to her seat, sitting by another man and woman. She intrigued you for some reason. You had no idea what it was but, you wanted to know.

You were happy, smiling and walking briskly to the library, ready to wind down from a day of classes. You open the old wood doors, they were tall, with carvings and designs. You step inside taking in everything, the smell, the quietness. It was your new happy place. You stride in going over to each section. You were just admiring it all for now but you were determined to find this book you've been meaning to read. As you browse you suddenly come across it, your smile widens, getting on your tip toes to reach it. "Curse being so short." You mutter to yourself.

"Need some help there, new girl?" You turn around to be faced with the copper haired girl yet again. "Oh uhm. Yeah actually." You laugh a little embarrassed. "Struggles of being short." She nods, reaching to grab it with ease. "Glad I was here to help then." She smiles giving it to you. "What're you doing in here?" You ask, not even knowing why you did, anyone could go in here. "Ouch, do I not look like the reading type?" You shake your head. "No no no I just-" She giggles. "I'm teasing you love. And I am a big reader actually." She looks at the book she gave you. "You're going to really enjoy that." You look at the book yourself. "I've been meaning to read it for so long." You admit.

"Well it's worth the read." She smiles. "So what's your name new girl?" You hug the book to your chest. "Y/n. But I- i don't mind the nickname you already give me." She smirks. "New girl? Alright then I shall call you that." It went silent. "So-" You then hear stomping, turning your head. "Ellie leave this poor girl alone." A dark haired woman comes by her. "I'm not even doing anything just casually speaking." Ellie replies. "We should get going anyway, come on." The woman begins to walk off. Ellie looks at you. "I'll see you around, again. New girl." You keep your gaze on her as she goes. Thinking about how most people view her, confused by it all.

Knocking on the door of your dorm, you had just found it. Watching as the door opens. "HI can I help you?" A girl is in sight, giving you a toothy smile. "Uhm im your new roommate." You give her a smile also. "Ahh, well come on in." She moves out the way inviting you in. "How come you didn't do this, this morning?" She genuinely asks. "I wanted to get straight into it, I decided to come back and unpack later." You look around at the cute little dorm room. "Well, all your stuff is in your room, make yourself comfy." She smiles at you, going into the kitchen. You return the smile, heading into your room. It was tiny but just the perfect fit for you. You begin to unpack setting everything out nicely and to how you like.

Once you're happy with how everything looks, you go out into the main area, seeing your roommate. "I'm Angela by the way, everyone just calls me Angie." You nod. "I'm Y/n." She nods. "Its nice to meet you. How has your first day been?" She pours herself a coffee. "Want a drink?" You shake your head. "I'm ok, thank you though. And it was good, classes were good. I got to see the library which was probably the highlight of my day." You smile, going to sit on the couch. "Its pretty cool isn't it." She smiles sipping on her coffee. "Hey, do you know someone called Ellie Williams?" She stares at you. "You don't wanna get involved with her, she's bad news." You furrow your brows. "Wait why?" You inquire. "She's a complete asshole. She will hurt you, and you're too sweet to be involved with someone as putrid as her."

You look at the couch in thought. Why was she such an asshole, she seemed really nice. "Can you tell me more?" You ask, looking at her. She strides over to the couch taking a seat next to you. "Ellie doesn't care about anyone but herself. She'd hurt you just to please herself." You ponder. "But she was nice to me-" She shakes her head. "Its all an act, don't fall for any of it ok?" You just nod. She gives you a reassuring smile. "Right well I'm going to start on some dinner, you in the mood for anything in particular?" She begins to go back into the kitchen. "I'm not fussy." "Awesome." She smiles.

Voices. You heard voices as you woke up, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. You put a brown robe on, peaking your head out the door to see. "No Williams. You're fucking creepy." You try to make out more of the conversation. "I'm not being creepy I was just wondering if she was here or if she had left already. Is that a crime?" Angie let's out a dry chuckle. "Yeah with you it is one. Leave her alone Ellie. Shes a sweet girl, she doesn't need your games." You hear the door shut. What did Ellie even want? You shake your head out of your thoughts, deciding to ignore it and get on with the day.

"New girl wait up!" You hear from behind you, fast footsteps coming closer. You turn your head. "Oh, hi." Ellie comes to a halt. "I've been looking for you all morning." You furrow your brows slightly. "Whys that?" You ask, still keeping your text books close. "I wanted to show you another book that you might be interested in." She starts to walk with you to your first class. "We can go to the library later and check it out." You nod, but suddenly think about why everyone is not fond of her when she's so nice to you. "What's it about?" "Just like the one you had yesterday but a different style and author. I think you'll like it." You nod, coming to your class. "Well I'll see you later, Ellie." She smirks. "See you, new girl."

It was on your mind all day, could you really trust this mysterious woman. You had only met her, and from what you had heard it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. You were walking down to the library as it was now the end of the day, you were planning to study a little bit in there also. Going in you spot Ellie immediately, she gives you a smile signaling to come over to her. She was sitting in one of the maroon colored chairs. "Hey." You say setting your stuff down and joining her in one of the chairs. "Have a good day?" She inquires. You nod. "Yeah it wasn't too bad. Yours?" She nods also. You look at her hands, at the book she held. "Right yes, the thing you've been waiting all day for." You sit up a bit, looking at her. "Give the one you got yesterday a read first then read this one, and let me know what you think about it."

She hands it to you, you give her a smile taking in her words. "Thank you for this." She leans back and smiles. "You're welcome angel." She looks at all your other books. "You going to study?" You nod. "Yeah just some history stuff I'm going to work on." You bring out all your supplies, stuffing the book she gave you in your shoulder bag. "Want some company?" You look at her. "Sure, company can't hurt." You smile still at one another. "I'll just be doing my own stuff." You watch as she gets out her own book, you look at it further. "Are you studying too? What subject." She looks at you. "Meh no just personal pleasure." You look more at it, it was a sketch book. "You draw?" She gets the last of her supplies. She nods at your question. "Yeah I do, guess that's another thing you didn't peg me to do huh?" You laugh a little bit. "I didn't, no. How long have you done it for?" She fully looks at you now.

"Since I was young." You look at the book again. "Can i see some of your work?" She nods, opening it up and giving it to you. You examine them, flipping the pages, she was incredible. "These are amazing." You continue to flick through, coming across some colorful ones. You admire them. "You like that one?" She noticed how you looked at it. "Its so beautiful the color, is this done with paints?" You trace your finger over it lightly. "It is yeah, you like paintings?" You look at her fully. "I actually paint myself." She sits back in the chair again. "Well what do you know. Learning new things about you every second new girl." She smirks at you intrigued. "Well, Ellie what about you." She leans forward. "What do you mean by that." You contemplate on whether or not you should ask.

"Why are you so nice to me. You don't even know me." You state. "Well, that's a good question, and I know exactly why you've asked it. Don't listen to them I may not be perfect but I'm not a monster. You interested me. No one here's, ever interested me like you have, so I took liberty into getting to know you." That's it, why do people hate her so much. Which brings you to your next question. "Why do people not like you." She let's out a tiny laugh. "You're very interested too huh. I'm not a sweet angel. I don't follow by anyone's expectations, or rules. I make some not so great choices, but I dont really care most of the time." You listen to everything. "But why me, im so ordinary." She looks at you, deeply this time. "Not to me. I see something in you, I'm drawn to it."

You look at her shoes, something you always did, it always told you about the person. She had worn out converses on. "I want to get to know you more." She grabs your hand, making you look at her. You look into her eyes as she does so. "I want to get to know you too." She smiles, letting go of your hand and sitting back in the chair. "What do you paint?" She asks, but looking at her sketch book. "Nothing special I just normally work with water colors and some paints, I just do whatever is on my mind, it may not make sense to others but I envision it and just, do." She looks up listening. "I admire that. I might have to check some of your work out sometime." You smile and nod. "Yeah I'm sure that could be arranged." You wanted to continue studying but you couldn't help but get distracted by her.

She was without a doubt beautiful she had a messy half way mullet looking haircut. Green eyes like emeralds. Light freckles coating her face, as she concentrates. Her grungy clothing, hanging baggy over her body. You were so mesmerized by this woman, so far she's made you feel so, real. "What're you drawing?" She doesn't respond right away. Still looking at her paper, but she looks up at you. Keeping silent and looking back at the paper. You look at her with confusion. "Ellie?" She continues to sketch whatever it was she was scribbling at. But once she was done she looks at you, flashing a smirk. She moves, keeping the book to her but ripping one of the pages out and handing it to you upside down. "See you tomorrow new girl. You'll have to give me a tour of your paint work, I'll hold you to it." She smiles as she goes to leave. You watch but then you look at your lap, at the drawing. It was of you. You smile to yourself, looking at every detail. You keep looking, spotting a note in the corner. 'Meet me at my dorm ####, tomorrow morning -E' you keep smiling to yourself. This was just the beginning.

[aliensfuckmeup]

Another page from the Loop Being Emo In The Woods WIP! The aftermath of the little episode from the previous page I posted. This one’s finished, and I need to think long and hard abt whether this level of detail is like, sustainable for something 15 pages long 😅

This comic originated from wanting to see more straight up sifloop romance, with pining and sad eyes and angsty internal monologues and tropey romcom bits and a healthy mix of drama/comedy. I plotted out a couple funny little one page comics, then got into thinking about character motivations and emotional beats, and now we’re like, maybe 15 comics/scenes/chaoters plotted and storyboarded in this universe? But because I hate keeping things simple, every one of those fucking comics is between 6-15 pages long and dialogue heavy, and I’m getting mired in the characterization of it all (not even counting getting mired in the visual storytelling and the plot progression of it all! And not even getting started on the “still very new to digital art, how does one use procreate” of it all!) Soooo haha I’m in danger :3

If anyone wants to talk in dms or on discord abt this comic and the greater sifloop shipping trash story it’s part of, hit me up! Especially if you know your way around plotting out a story a lil bit. I don’t know how to start conversations online 🙈 but I like to think I bring a lot to the table talking meta, trading wips and other art that I can’t post here, making lil comics from discord bits, and exchanging help with plotting/storyboarding/dialogue/character interpretations.

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .5

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Possessive behavior; Jealousy; Size difference; Size kink; One sad horny old man; Angst!!!! that will continue just FYI no abusing poor little vic for enjoying the suffering of others :) it’s not my fault :)

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: peep the cameo!!!!!! :) 

Word Count: 6.1K

Read on AO3

.5

Vanish. Pass into nothingness: the Keats line that frightened her. Fade as the blue nights fade, go as the brightness goes. Go back into the blue. I myself placed her ashes in the wall. I myself saw the cathedral doors locked at six. I know what it is I am now experiencing. I know what the frailty is, I know what the fear is. The fear is not for what is lost. What is lost is already in the wall. What is lost is already behind the locked doors. The fear is for what is still to be lost. You may see nothing still to be lost. Yet there is no day in her life on which I do not see her.

Joan Didion, Blue Nights

Weeks pass after that night in his truck. He calls, many times, but you never answer. And it makes you feel like the worst sort of liar, but you can’t. You can’t hear the sound of his voice, it’ll ruin you, destroy your resolve, force you to your knees at his feet, which is, if you’re being honest, the only place you really want to be. It is, perhaps, the greatest struggle of your entire life, to hold on by the skin of your teeth to this idea you have of what it is he and his marriage should remain as, and what you and he should be and should not be. 

It’s Gerri’s birthday, and Tommy and her sister had decided to throw her a party at her house. Big surgeon money makes for a big fancy house, and Gerri was over the moon, filled with happiness and laughter and that wonderful brand of Gerri specific infectious glee that forces even your miserable, morose self to pull your butt out of bed and get ready to go celebrate her. She knows you’re sad, missing him, even if she doesn’t know it’s him specifically. Although, you suspect she might have an idea of it. 

She’d begged you to come during class at the start of the week, planting her stubborn butt on a stool to stare you down while the rest of your students finished up their work and then put away their materials. Please’s and threats of tears and bodily harm and promises of copious amounts of alcohol, and if you’re feeling up to it, I could even hook you up with someone – an accompanying waggle of her eyebrows. What about a surgeon? My sister knows the perfect, sexy doctor for you. You’d profusely, profusely refused that. You could not even consider another man right now, the idea was almost repulsive to you. As she begged and pleaded and whined, another one of your students had come up, eavesdropping on the pathetic display of supplication, “Come on, teach. Don’t be a sour puss, put her outta her misery, and go to the fucking party with her,” she’d laughed. One of your best students – she had the most gorgeous tattoo on the inside of her forearm of two overlapping ferns with an intricately detailed moth at the head. She’d told you once she’d sketched it herself. You’d rolled your eyes at them, sour puss, my ass. But you knew you had to get out of this hole you’d dug yourself into, and so, their teasing had gotten to you in the end – forced you to agree to the party out of sheer preservation for your reputation. Gerri’d taken to calling you the boring barnacle… yeah, and she’d never stop if you didn’t agree – would probably force all your other students into making fun of you for the rest of the semester, as well. Annoying little shit, it was very aggravating that you loved her so much. 

-

The house is stunning – big surgeon money indeed. All shining glass, sleek wood and modern edges. A huge infinity pool in the backyard, flanked by an impressively sized guest house that Gerri said she and Tommy stayed in sometimes when they got too drunk to drive home. 

There was, after all, a doctor from Andrea’s work waiting for you at their undesired and annoyingly meddlesome behest. He was nice, handsome, boring. Not tall enough, not broad enough, hair blonde and straight and kind of straw-like – no dark, silver streaked curls and deep, warm eyes. He kind of reminds you of a shiny scarecrow, if you’re being honest and not very kind. Not Joel enough. But he was nice, and seemingly interested and he’d gotten you a drink and stayed by your side all night, attentive and polite. 

You feel miserable and made out of plastic. Your smile, fake, forced, terrible. Something has to be done about this. Perhaps, electrotherapy, a lobotomy, an exorcism. Anything to get him out of your head. 

The shiny, blonde scarecrow – doctor – is telling you about his shiny, blonde family and their fancy skiing trips now, and oh, do you ski? No? I bet you’d love it – maybe I can take you one day? Never mind that you’d been born without a single athletic bone in your entire body, when, suddenly, you hear your name being barked, rough and angry, from behind you, and then a large, searing hot palm circling your bicep on one side while his other palm slides along the span of the small of your back to grip you at the bend of your waist. Fuck. 

“Joel–”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He does not look at you as he says it, but his grip on your waist tightens for one second. He’s staring down the shiny scarecrow, murder in his eyes. Oh, that look is very scary. 

“What are you doing here?” He turns the scary look on you at that, and nope, nope, it’s even scarier pointed in your direction.

“Tommy told me you were here.”

“Wh– what? Why would he tell you?” He gives you a pointed look, and you glance at the scarecrow, nervous. “You told Tommy?” you whisper back at Joel. 

Poor doctor man looks at a loss, gaze swinging back and forth between the two of you. “I’m so sorry, can you give us a minute?” you say, embarrassed. He takes one look at Joel’s terrifying face and scampers away.

-

Moron, he thinks, sour gaze following the fucker as he tucks tail and runs. He turns back to you, answering your question, “Didn’t have to, baby. He figured it out on his own. Don’t think we’ve been what one could call discreet if you’re really paying attention.”

You shut your eyes tight, bring up a shaky hand up to rub at the delicate wing of your brow. He desperately wants to smooth out the tiny frown marring the space between your eyes. 

“N– no– but,” you stutter. 

He takes the drink you’re holding out of your hand, takes a sip of it – something sweet and way too strong for your light-weight little butt. “Mm, he get that for you?”

You scrunch your nose up at him, and he knows he’s meant to take it as a sign of your annoyance, but all he can think is that you’re too adorable for your own good. “Wh– I– you overbearing, ridiculous – give that back!” you frown up at him as he holds it out of your reach. He sets the glass on a table behind you.

“Hmm–” His big hands span the width of your waist, can’t help himself, you’re so small compared to him. It makes his cock so hard. “Let me talk to you, please. Let’s go somewhere quiet.” He doesn’t care that he’s not supposed to be here, that he shouldn’t be bothering you, he’s reached the end of his rope. 

“No – go away. It’s– it’s Gerri’s birthday.” You try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he pulls you further into his chest. “I’m supposed to be having fun. She said she’d be mad if I didn’t have fun.” There are already overwhelmed tears in your eyes, and if he wasn’t so fucking desperate to see you, to talk to you after all these weeks of you ignoring him, he’d run away. Far, far away, where he can never make you cry again. 

“Just for a little bit, please,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, causing the little wisps of hair there to flutter. 

You shiver. “Where– where’s Sarah?” You bring your small hand up to clutch at his beard, cup his jaw, and scratch your nails gently down the side of his cheek, and fuck, he’s ready to burst, just with that, even as your other hand feebly tries to push at his chest. He slides a hand low on your back to press your pelvis into his. 

“Baby-sitter.” Hearing you ask after his daughter has that soft spot behind his ribs where you live now, burn and pinch painfully. 

“And–” 

He cuts you off, doesn’t want to hear you talking about her. “Gone for the weekend – work conference.” Not that he believed that.

You open your eyes again, the tears lining your lashes make them almost glow in your skull. He can’t help himself, he bends to press a soft kiss over your eye, feels the whispering, wet flutter of your long lashes against his mouth. You let out a broken mewl for him – full of all your matched wanting. “F– fine. We’ll– we’ll just talk.”

Just talk, just talk, just talk. 

He can feel the pulse of his blood beat through the line of his erection against his thigh. He wraps his hand around yours and starts leading you through the house, spots Tommy at the back of the kitchen, leaning against the counter talking to someone. His brother takes in the two of you together, gives him a subtle nod, inclines his head towards the backyard – the guest house where Joel was headed. Tommy had known, since that day so long ago when Joel had tried to discreetly tag along to the college – hoping to get a glimpse of you, he’d known there was something. Nothing discreet about your half assed excuses, reeked’a desperation, he’d said. His brother wanted him to be happy, to have a good, fulfilling relationship. He’d been telling Joel to get a lawyer for months, had been the first to tell him to not get married. He’d help him now, give the two of you time to sort this out. He knows just how insane Joel had been these past few weeks, like a caged animal, pacing and hissing at not being able to get at you. 

He steps out the back door and pulls you towards the guest house. He’d been here once, months ago, helping Gerri’s sister out with a repair she’d needed. The two of you would have privacy there to talk, for you to finally stop avoiding him. He needs to speak to you, touch you, smell you. He was going out of his goddamn mind thinking about you, dreaming about you. His cock, constantly at half mast and leaking, at all hours of the day, just at your memory. Desperate, that’s what he is, he’s desperate for you. 

“Who was that guy?”

“Who?” Your voice is anxious, breath hitching. He knows you’re twisting yourself up in knots, and he turns to pull you into his arms now, in the privacy of the dark room, lit only by the light of the moon spilling through the large bay windows. 

“The one you were talking to.” He draws his palm slowly up and down the line of your spine, feelings the little bumps and jitters of your trembling form. Skittish little rabbit. He rubs his mouth over the line of your hair, baby soft wisps tickling his nose and mouth. You smell so good, he wants to rub himself all over you like some sort of animal – mark his territory.

“Wh– I– You cannot be serious right now.” You push at him, turn to move away, but he catches you around the bend of your elbow, tugging you back forcefully into his chest. He presses his front along the line of your back, grips your hip to bring your ass into the hard line of his cock. 

“Does this feel serious to you?” He’s hard as stone, throbbing beneath his jeans. 

“Oh God, Joel–”

“Don’t want you talkin’ to other men, thinking about any other men. I know it sounds insane – can’t help it, I’m sorry.”

“I– I don’t think about anyone else but you,” you whimper. 

He wraps his arms around your waist, brings one large hand up to cradle the weight of your breast and squeeze. He can feel the stiff little furl of your nipple through your dress. He feels a little unhinged right now, overwhelmed by the feel and scent of you. “I miss you,” he whispers. “Have you missed me?” He presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear that has a violent shiver jerking down your vertebrae, you grind your ass harder into him, give him the sweetest little moan. “All I do is think about you.”

“I did, I did– I miss you so much. I wanted to talk to you, I did,” you whimper, “But– but we shouldn’t, Joel,” you say at the same time as your hand comes up and around to twist into the curls at the back of his head. He turns your head with his hand wrapped around your jaw, his entire palm cups around your neck to your cheek, thumb pressing harshly into the corner of your mouth to angle you exactly how he wants you, and then he’s tasting behind your teeth, the wet lick of his tongue into yours sends a bolt of lust straight through him, almost bringing him to his knees. He moans, deep and rumbling into your panting mouth, and your answering keen has the dribble of his precum sliding down his thigh. He needs to be closer, he needs to be inside. Fuck, he’s in danger of coming just from this, just from the sweet taste of you, your little moans, all for him. 

“Did you like that boy? Think he was nice, hmm?”

“Wha– No– no, Joel. I don’t even know him.” Brow scrunching into the most adorable little frown he’s ever seen. You blink your lashes at him, eyes glassy and slightly dazed. 

He snakes his other hand down the front of your dress and under the lace of your panties, cupping the entirety of your mound in his palm. Fuck, you’re soaked and he’s touching you, finally, finally, he’s touching you here. 

“Is all this wet for him or for me?” he says softly, dipping a single finger into your seam, a ghost of a touch over the bud of your clit. Fuck, you’re soft. Soft and swollen and soaking wet. He never wants to see you near another man again, it’s unreasonable, insane, he knows this. But the dilemma of having seen you, tasted you, felt you, but only by half measures, not really having you, well… it sets the stage for insanity. This he cannot help. 

“For you, for you– please, Joel. Just–”

“She’s drooling for me, baby.”

“Don’t be mean,” you cry.

“Will you let me make you feel good, sweet girl? Please, I just want to make you feel good.” He presses wet kisses over your cheek, down your neck to lick into the hollow of your collarbone. Your hips hitch in little grinds trying to gain more purchase against his palm, and he circles your clit slowly. You’re fucking dripping, and he moves down to press over your entrance, gives you the slightest hint of everything else he’d like to give you. 

“Oh, please–” He slides two of his fingers into the last knuckle then, to the hilt. You’re so wet, there’s no resistance at all. Your cunt swallows his fingers whole, and the both of you let out ragged moans in tandem. You’re fucking tight, and he needs to feel you around his cock, he has to. He’ll die if he doesn’t. He’ll die.

“We– we were supposed t– to talk,” you stutter, little cunt grinding down as hard as you can on his thrusting fingers. The wet squelch is deafening and obscene in the quiet of the guest house, and he can almost feel the steam of your lust and embarrassment at the sound rolling off of your skin like heat waves. 

“Yeah, yeah, baby. We’ll talk in a second.” He licks a long wet swipe along the edge of your jaw, bites down harshly, and he can feel the tight clench of your cunt at the small hurt. He pulls his fingers from you, and you let out a protesting mewl, but then he’s spinning you in his arms and kissing you. Something savage and uncontrolled rising up inside of him. He half carries, half drags you down the hall to the bedroom he knows is at the back of the house, pulls the neckline of your dress down to get at your tits, sucking and nipping as much of the soft flesh he can get at. All the previous moments of restraint, of not touching, of just watching, have turned him into this uncontrolled beast. He can feel your little feel dangling off the ground, over his boots. He almost stumbles as you lose one of your sandals, stepping over your shoe, and gripping the back of your thigh to hoist you up higher, grinding you against his length. 

He sets you down on the bed, pushing you back to lay across it as he tugs the soft cups of your bra down to get at your bare tits, sucking one peaked nipple into his mouth and pulling hard on the tip. So fucking beautiful. He swirls his tongue around your softness, kisses the underside of it, nips at the full, round side, switches to give the other one the same attention. You’re whining and crying out for him, almost sobbing. So sensitive, so sensitive – little fingers twisted in his hair to pull him closer, but he’s moving down, pulling away from your searching mouth and lifting the hem of your dress. He bends to bury his face in the soft apex of your thighs and breathes deep – satisfaction, hunger, rumbling through his chest. You smell so fucking good. He sticks his tongue out to lick at your slit over the lace of your soft, pink panties, sweet, little bow adorning the front of them. 

“Hush, lemme kiss your pussy for a little bit,” he soothes, “Don’t cry,” and you’re spreading your legs immediately at that. Good girl. 

He hooks his fingers under the soaking wet center plaque of your panties to pull it aside and drags the flat of his tongue right through your seam. Fuck, fuck. He shuts your legs to rip the fabric down your legs and then rips them open again to get at your cunt. Your back arches, curved tight like a bow string, and you spread your legs wider for him, tug on his hair to urge him closer. He settles between the space you’ve made for him – thinks that he just might like to live here for the rest of his life. He sucks your clit into his mouth and starts to press a single finger inside, giving you something to bear down on.

“God, Joel–” your gasps are wet, on the verge of overwhelmed tears, or already there, perhaps, “Feels so– so good.”

“Taste so fucking good–” He starts to fuck you with his finger, adding another, giving you more to stretch around. You’re so wet, leaking down to pool in his palm, and he focuses on your sensitive little nub, licking and sucking and kissing it, all while he watches the heave and tremble of your breasts, back arched so that you can rock into his ministrations. 

“Oh, I’m– I’m gonna come.” Yes, already, “I’m gonna–” He can feel the ripple and throb of your inner muscles working around his thrusting fingers, he hooks them against the deep, spongy spot at the front of your walls and sucks on your clit. Everything goes tight and liquid inside of you. The rapid flutter of your muscles trying to suck his fingers deeper, as you gush into his mouth, has all the blood rushing from his head to his dick so quickly he feels slightly faint. He licks you through it, gentling the thrust of his fingers but not stopping. Your restless legs shift around him, too much, and then he’s shifting back up to you, a bite to your nipple, a kiss pressed to the underside of your jaw, and he’s pulling you down the bed so your ass is right at the edge and tugging at his zipper, pulling his boxers down to free his aching cock and heavy balls. Fist clenched tight around himself, he jacks it once, twice and then presses the angry, red head to your clit, slides the underside of it through your cleft to feel the heat and wetness. Shit, your skin is scorching hot, soaked, and he can see the slight clench of your hole, begging to be filled. 

“Joel, please I– I want–”

“Fuck – will you let me– will you let me put it in? Just a little bit?” He’s thrusting against the slick red of you, palm pressed against the shaft to create friction on either side. On every pull back his head catches the smallest bit at your entrance, and fuck, fuck, it would be so easy, so good, “Just– just for a second, baby, please? Just the tip?”

“I – I don’t– I–” The head catches more fully, the wide tip of it giving you just the first slight stretch of it. “Oh, please–” Please, please, please. 

He feeds you the first inch – eyes glued to the way your little hole stretches obscenely around his fat girth, “Shit,” he snarls. He fucks you just like that, with just the tip and you try and arch even more, impossible, you’re already pulled tight as an arc, trying to take him deeper, and then your knee is hitching against his hip and pressing him in closer. He slides all the way inside, to the very end of you, in one smooth, devastating go. He feels his tip bump against the mouth of your womb, and your shared moan is pained and ragged. Your fluttering lids springing all the way open, eyes wide, almost shocked. The look shared between the two of you – incredulous, as if neither of you knew – had ever occurred to you – that something in this world could ever feel this good. 

He buries his face in your neck, shuts his eyes tight. Fuck, he’s gonna come, he’s gonna come. Your gasping moans, the lush press of your breasts to his chest, the fluttering of your cunt around him – nothing in all his life has ever felt like this. There’s a pain, deep in his chest, in a place he didn’t even know existed. This is like nothing else that has ever existed in this world. He’ll never be able to let you go after this, never, never. 

He wraps his hand around your throat, tries to settle you. “Don’t– don’t move, don’t make a sound–”

“I can’t– I can’t– You’re so deep.” Your legs kick restlessly around him.

“Baby, shut up, please,” he begs, he cannot come yet, he cannot. This is the first time in over three years he’s been inside of a woman, the first time he’s been inside of you. He cannot ruin it with a happy trigger finger. You’re clawing at his back, gasping and crying for him to move, to fuck you, please, please, please, fuck me. He slides a hand under your butt and lifts you slightly off the bed to bring you closer to him, grinds his cock deep, deep, right at your cervix so that you’re crying for real now. 

“Too much, too much,” you clutch tightly at his bicep, going back and forth between trying to push him away and pull him closer. He can feel the wet press of your tears sliding along his cheek, over his mouth, and he licks his lips to taste them, has his eyes rolling to the back of his head at their saltiness. He hitches you more firmly in his grasp and starts to fuck you. His thrusts, deep and devastating, punching all air, voice, thought out of you, heavy balls slapping wetly against your ass.

“You can take it, you can take it. You can take anything I give you. You’re my pretty, perfect girl,” he grits, pulls himself up so he can stare at the place where you’re taking him, puffy, red cunt stretched obscenely around his slick base. 

“You feel so good– I can’t, I can’t– What are we going to do? What are we going to do? It feels so good.” You’re crying, incoherent, fucked out look in your eyes as you claw at his shirt, little nails scraping over his belly and chest. He grips you under one knee to pull your leg up, hooking your ankle over his shoulder to deepen the angle. You come again, instantly, just at the change, the deepening of the angle, the head of his cock battering savagely against that deep, soft spot inside you.

“Fuck, yeah. Let me feel that cunt get wet, little girl.” Your mewls are high pitched, supplicant, and you gush around him. He feels it soak his pelvis, drip down his balls.

No one’s ever been this deep, nothing’s ever felt like this, you say, over and over again. 

He plants one knee on the bed and hunches over you, ankle still dangling limply over his shoulder and pounds into you. The feel of your cunt rippling around him, sucking him deeper is too much. He wishes he could last longer, feel you come around him again. What if you never let him do this again? What if you never want him again after this? What if it’s just a one time thing? He’ll never get over this, he’ll never be able to move on from this. He can’t hold back, he starts to fill you, hot thick spurts coating your insides, and you moan again at the searing heat of him, right at the mouth of your womb, grinds deep, deeper, as deep as he can, the contractions of your inner muscles pulling him in. He wishes he could crawl beneath your skin, live inside of you, make a home for himself behind the safe cage of your ribs, and he thinks that you’re right, nothing has ever felt like this, nothing will ever feel like this again. 

He’s ruined now. You’ve ruined him

He collapses on top of you, wants to crush you with his heavy weight, meld your chests together so that you’ll have to be with him forever after this. He presses wet, breathless kisses to the vulnerable underside of your jaw, behind your ear where your scent is the most concentrated, breathes you in deeply. You wrap your arms and legs around him, and he can feel the clench of your inner muscles around his softening cock. He hasn’t done this in a long time, he wonders what his refractory period is now, if he’ll be able to go again soon, if you’ll let him. 

“I wanted that so badly,” you whisper, nuzzle your nose into his hair. 

“Me too, sweetheart.” 

“I’m scared.”

“You have nothing to be scared of. I would never hurt you,” he promises because it’s the truth. He’d never do anything to purposely hurt you. 

“I’m scared of what I feel for you,” you say quietly, “I– I don’t–”

He slides his hand under you to press you closer. “I know, sweet girl. Me too.” He angles your head to give himself access to your mouth, starts his kiss out soft and gentle, slotting your full upper lip between both of his to pepper soft little pecks and sucks to it, then tilts his head to get a deeper angle and lick into you. 

You’re completely relaxed beneath him. Soft and warm and wet, entirely pliant. So sweet. It’s one of the things he loves most about you, how sweet you are. Sweet and kind and earnest – tenderhearted. You’re right, in a way, this is something to be afraid of. The things he feels for you – the depth of it, it’s not something he was expecting, not prepared for, but he’s certain there isn’t a way of stopping it now. This is what it is, will go where it was always going to go, from the first moment he saw you, touched you, tasted you. 

“What are we going to do?”

“I want to tell her.” It’s the only truth, the only road he wants to go down. He wants to be with you, he wants this out in the open. “You aren’t a secret to be kept or hidden. You deserve to be cherished out in the open.”

Your tears spill harder at that, “Joel–”

“Baby,” he lifts up slightly to look at you, “This is it.”

You turn to look away and he feels dread coil in his gut. If you pull away from him now he’ll lose his mind. He isn’t prepared for this, he isn’t the type of man who’s ever had to deal with this type of feeling. “I – I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I– I don’t want–”

“You don’t want what?” he brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face, runs the tip of his finger along the arch of your brow, down the slope of your nose. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you,” he says, because it’s the truth. In this moment, he thinks he’d do anything at all you’d ask of him. Open his very veins for you. You have him speared by the heart, eating out of the palm of your small hand. 

“I don’t want to be the reason your marriage ends,” your brow crumples, “I told you. I– I can’t be. I couldn’t live with that.”

“My marriage never really began to start with. I told you that.” He moves to pull out, both of you groaning softly at the sensitive slide of his cock slipping out of you, the slick gush that follows. He sits back on his heels, grips both of your knees to keep you spread and enjoy the sight of the viscous drip of his spend out of your messy hole. He wants to bend to eat his own come out of you. You’ve turned him into some sort of beast, subjugated to the scent and sound and feel of your body. But instead he turns to sit at the edge of the bed, tucks himself back into his jeans. He leans forward, elbows resting against his spread knees, and drags his palm over his face, rubs the scruff of his beard. He feels you turn to curve around him, your hand snaking up the back of his shirt to press your palm against his hot skin, your knees curling into his lap around his waist. “It was never – it was never– I don’t even know. Never a real marriage, I suppose. Or never something either of us wanted for the right reasons. I – I felt like it was the right thing to do, at the time, for Sarah. I told you this. But– but it was never how it should’ve been. I worry now, sometimes, if we haven’t just done more damage to her, built a foundation that’s so rotten, so broken, that she’ll be able to feel it for the rest of her life.”

“Joel,” you whisper, dragging your fingers softly up and down his back. 

“She was born into a broken home – how can I ever– how can I ever make that up to her?” He turns back to look at you then, “A home where her parents never loved each other – barely even tolerated each other. What is that gonna do to her? What will that teach her about love and relationships?” He grips you around the bend of your knee, anchors himself with the feel of your soft skin beneath his rough palm. 

“I think that, from– from experience, that it will be enough for her to know that she has you, that you love her, that you’ll always be there for her. You’re a good father, Joel. A– a wonderful father. She’s so, so lucky to have you.” And the look in your eyes as you say this to him is so earnest, so sincere and kind that he knows, in that very instant, that he’s falling in love with you, that he is already in love with you. He folds over to press his face into your belly, hug you tight to himself. “Your love for her will teach her what love is supposed to be. Honest, forgiving, patient. She doesn’t need any other example than that. That’s enough for a little girl, trust me.” You drag your nails gently along his scalp. 

He presses a kiss to your belly, another to your still bared breast. He rests his cheek on your chest to look up at you. “Thank you. Thank you for that.” What he really wants to say is, thank you for existing, thank you for finding me, thank you for being magic, thank you for letting me touch you. Please, let me keep even one small piece of you, I’ll take such good care of it for the rest of my life, I promise.

“But you– you can’t tell your wife about this, can’t– can’t leave her for me. That isn’t– that isn’t ever what I wanted, or– or set out to do. I told you why, I explained this to you.” He watches a bright flush flood your cheeks, brow folding into a frown as you stutter out the words. “I don’t want you to do that.”

“What’s left of this marriage is going to end either way. It’s only a matter of time.”

“But not for me. Not because of me, or for you to run straight to me. I can’t– I couldn’t live knowing I’d done that.”

“You haven’t done anything. This was done a long time ago, the foundation was damaged from the start.”

“N– no, still. I can’t.” You shift away from him, sit up to right your clothes. There is a part of you that hums the sounds of uncertainty, he can hear it in your voice, but it is so quiet in the face of everything else. The echo of your screeching guilt and fear so loud, it overwhelms everything else. 

“So, then what? This was just a one time thing? You want nothing more from this? From me?” He spits, hurt. He knows he should be gentle, not get angry, but the thought of you taking yourself away from him now makes panic climb like fire up his chest and throat. 

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, face still turned away from him. “I– I can’t tell you that right now. But I do know that I don’t want you to tell your wife, or to leave her for me.”

“So you think I should stay with her? Even though we’re both miserable. Even though all I want is to be with you. That’s what you want me to do?”

You let out a hoarse, anguished little sound at that, but then: “That’s not for me to say.” Your voice sounds broken, jagged, lacerating. “That isn’t my business,” you say so quietly, almost like you’re afraid to utter the words out loud, know what a lie they are. But he hears it. Loud and clear, like a slap to the face. 

“Not your business?”

“I should get back.” You stand to right your dress, he watches your shaking knees knock together, and he reaches out to catch you if you need him, but you steady yourself on your own. When you finally turn back to look at him, there are tears streaming down your face. In some sick, twisted way, the sight of them is a comfort. They tell him that this isn’t what you really want, that your words hurt you too. In a way, they help him understand you better, as well. You’re trying to do what you think is the right thing, as wrong as it is for all of you involved. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, wringing your hands together. He only nods. You go to clean yourself up in the restroom, shutting the door quietly behind you.

-

When you step back out into the bedroom, he’s already gone, but there’s a glass of water left waiting for you on the bedside table. 

Chapter .6

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[girl-dot-tzt]

Alright results are in, I'm not allowed to finish for 36 days 🙃

Im going to update this as a lil diary to keep me honest💃

Day 1: I'm feeling pretty good, I notice I get really horny when I take my prog the ✨️fun way✨️ so I'm going to use that method to increase the challenge this month. I'm thinking of meeting a friend tomorrow so I'm excited!

Day 2: more of the same, pretty standard, had a great time with said friend. Getting a teeny but pent up but nothing crazy yet.

Day 3: getting more pent up but it's still manageable, made the mistake of reading a ton of horny posts and getting myself really horny. Thankfully I calmed down and now I'm good to go

Day 4: went to work, did some bike wrenching, now im boutta sleep. pretty uneventful but I'm meeting a good friend of mine tomorrow so I plan on making up for the lack of horny twofold. I need to get some Oregonian mutuals bc I'd like to bite someone :3

Day 5: got my tits fondled for like 3 hours while I watched anime and got insanely high, I need like 4 people to hold me down and grope/tease/fuck me... preferably all at once. I've got 31 more daysssssss, does it count if it's hands free? 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

Day 6: got no sleep, very horny, idk what direction Is up, and I need an answer to the question from yesterday 😫

Day 7: got sleep but not railed because if I get railed too well I'll could possibly finish and idk if that's OK yet :3. I'm going to mountain bike today! I'm super excited bc I need something to take the edge off, if I'm really unlucky I'll get too horny from the idea of getting fucked in the woods and make an update here.

Day 8: we're evening out a little, this may not be impossible, tbf I haven't had time to do much lately so when I finally get the time to ride my toys that might change. I'm planning on doing that tomorrow :3

Day 8 update: I accidentally took two progesterone pills because I boof mine, but I accidentally muscle memory-ed taking my prog orally. Got so horny during work that I nearly cried.

Day 9: I broke some spokes while mountain biking and now I'm sad, but horny and frustrated too. I can only think about being bred, but also being sad that my bike broke, damn fucking stupid sticks getting inbetween my fucking spokes. I need railed bad, etcetera etcetera

Day 10:

Girl abs, that is all

Day 11: I'm going to fuck myself on the biggest toy I own until I'm crying or edging with my Pspot🧍‍♀️ I will return

Day 12: I'm pretty sure I ended up getting edged. Pretty sure because I've never actually finished hands free before and my vibrator died right before I was about to finish. One of you witchy mother fuckers knew I was about to cheat or something, no other explanations, couldn't possibly be that I forgot to charge toys like a dumbass. Laugh it up, I got edged hard by my ADHD.

Days 13: I had a threesome and it was awesome! I explained my agreement to them and got teased a bunch as me and my friend dommed the fuck out of a gorgeous girl. We groped and kissed and sucked all over her body as she got more and more worked up, until eventually I was fucking her with my big purple vibrator and she came hands free for the first time! We made sure to shower her with all kinds of praise and congratulations 💃💃

Days 14-16: started a new job, I'm getting so horny these days that rather than feeling butterflies it's like an almost painful NEED. Like I just desperately need to get tied up and ground into dust, getting edged with my vibrator did a number on me because I'm a mess rn😆

Days 17-20: if I may be honest i embarked on this endeavor to try to finish hands free, I've never done it before but I desperately want to. I think I'll be able to do it by the end of these 36 days or sooner. Idk it's just a hunch🧍‍♀️

Day 21-29: 10 hr shifts in a lab will drive you nuts when there's nothing to think about but getting railed and ice cream percentages. On the plus side I am not only paid but required to eat ice cream every hour at my job. On the downside, I got so horny I cried last night🧍‍♀️😵‍💫😵‍💫

[infinityinakiss]

avatrice au fic recommendations:

i don't think there is a single avatrice au fic that i haven't read so here are some my favorites. i tried to find ones that weren't as popular, so hopefully there are couple here you haven't read.

I want to believe by puppybusby @yashastrongarms - x files au - basically 23k of avatrice flirting while being incredibly reckless with alien shit. unfortunately, it is only a one shot that doesn't delve into their relationship, but it is so worth it. and the tension. woof.

Truly a Steadfast Love by StoicLastStand - medieval au - they have a whole series of ficlets, but this is one of my favorites. there's a tournament to win ava's hand in marriage, ava goes undercover to fight for her freedom, but she ends up falling for the very knight who everybody wants to win. i also love their lucifer au, Greater Sacrifices.

a lover, or something of mine by Smokestarrules - reincarnation au - each chapter is a different life with a different story, and i promise you, if you have anything that even resembles a heart, you will cry. i keep going back and rereading chapter 4 because apparently i love to hurt myself. i also love the world is just illusion (trying to change you) by them, it's a road trip au.

i should love you (and i swear i do) by Noteveryonefitsintothebadbitchgenre - harry potter au (fuck jk rowling) - its that trope where they're married and they talk about each other constantly but nobody actually knows they're married. their students all think that professor silva and professor young have a friendly rivalry, but there are a couple of moments that don't add up.

purple by sxftmelody - hitman au - technically, but really it's just sad, i always cry at the end. beatrice helps ava run away after a job, and slowly they open themselves up and start to fall in love. tw: major character death. also love turning page by the same author, mercenary/princess au.

in our corner of the world by definitelynotthere - roommate au - i know, i know, there's a thousand roommate aus, why would i recommend a fic that isn't even finished and will probably never get finished? i don't know, i just really love this one, and if you're like me, you'll go "ooh, two cakes" and read it anyway.

The last hero of Ogygia by jessnope - percy jackson au - specifically calypso au, ava is calypso and beatrice is the flirty hunter that washed up on her shore. it's super cute.

stay there, 'cause i'll be coming over (while our blood's still young) by britishngay - spiderman au - ava's character voice is actually designed to be spiderman, and bea is the perfect doctor lady that patches spidey up when she gets hurt. plus beatrice telling lilith to "shut up and sit down" will never not be iconic.

sunday people (sunday shines for you) by gilligankane @piratekane - another roommates au - jealous ava is back again and out for blood, specifically jenn-with-two-ns blood.

this is my prayer (I'm in love with you) by nyxtyka - my best friend's wedding/spies au - i'll be honest, this fic went to my marked for laters to die. i don't know if it'll ever be finished, but it is one of my favorite aus, i promise it'll be worth the pain.

spellbound by onomofication - witch au - beatrice is the witch in the woods that ava goes to to finally find a way to explore the world like she has always wanted to. but as she gets to know the surprisingly kind, serious, kinda-sorta witch, she discovers that maybe the world was smaller than she had once imagined. i also love another fic by this author, hit me with you best shot, which is basically a cupid au, where ava runs around trying to stop jc, a cupid, from shooting the love of her life, beatrice.

the celestial glow is blinding by understreetlights - firewatch au - did i think ava and beatrice sitting around, looking at trees, and falling love with each other through walkie talkies was going to be interesting? no, but the world loves to prove me wrong.

too cold, it's withdrawal by KatieQgle - captain america au - give this one a chance, even if you don't like marvel. beatrice is hot as fuck as bucky and honestly the winter soldier plot line needed a little sapphic yearning. come on, avatrice in the army in the 1940s, being badass and fighting nazis together? who wouldn't love that?

i have a ton more, reach out if you want them!

[pyxis-stellae]

I finished BO6 and here are my thoughts! (Part 4)

BO6 spoilers below the cut

Okay, so. Sims is back. I LOVED seeing him again. I didn't realize how much I missed him, and he's so done with Adler's shit it's hilarious. Sims is trying to make everything right and Adler is treating the Geneva Convention as a checklist

Interrogating Gusev was... Something. I loved it, I could see how terrified he was and you know what? Good.

Then, Vorkuta. It was nice seeing the map again in better graphics. I felt nostalgic, and might replay BO1 later just for the escape mission. Sev was being a diva again (I persuaded everyone to help me). Very nice. Running into the tunnels with Case was something, I want to replay the mission just to see how Harrow reacts to each option Case can tell her when they met.

Btw I haven't changed my stance Harrow can do anything to me I don't care. She's a little fucked up but I can fix her

I finished the safehouse puzzles, and then... Separation Anxiety. I was terrified of Harrow's part, mainly the second shard with the generators. For a second, I thought her father had killed himself (the hanged mannequin) and I'm scared of her doll. But I was also sad for her - I almost cried. She was vulnerable, and she was manipulated. I wish she hadn't gone down such a destructive path, but I understand.

I know I shouldn't be surprised, but Woods knowing about the "separation" as Adler called was a bit of a shock. My guy why are you so comfortable?? You know what this shit does to people!! Mason is rolling in his grave right now!!

I also loved the fact Separation Anxiety and Checkmate were interleaved. It made a frenetic rhythm that suited the end very well. I also like the reoccurrence of the chess theme.

Now, for Checkmate, I confess I was more paying attention to Felix going absolutely ballistic. Sir aren't you against weapons? Where's Mr. I don't want to touch guns anymore? Don't get me wrong: I'm living for it. I was terrified for a few moments as I thought he'd die on that bridge, but I'm happy it didn't happen.

Harrow's and Woods' conversation was... Something. And even if I knew he wouldn't die because of BO2 I was terrified when he was stabbed.

And then Case losing his shit on Harrow. Completely justified btw. Yes smash her with the weapon they forced you to be. The way she talked about him, it made me feel sick. And I really, really hope he didn't die. It would be a huge waste of a good protagonist, even more if they plan on keeping the Pantheon as the villain, because then it's personal

Overall, I really enjoyed the game and think it did a good job. I do think some things could be better, mainly Case and his link to the Cradle, but again, if he isn't dead this can be fixed easily. It was a fun ride, now I gotta write (I want to make a series of "what ifs" for the game) and replay everything to get it done on veteran :D

[hrts4hanniehae]

clutch || two

there are written parts :)

warning: mentions of parental abuse (emotional), mental breakdown, blood

her move into her new shared apartment was fairly quick, considering all her stuff were still in boxes at minghao's house.

"luckily you found a new place the same week jun is moving in with me." - minghao

"my only friend abandoned me for his boyfriend. i'm so sad." - yn

he dropped a box into her arms. "i'd have let you stay longer, you know? but luckily my friend wonwoo had a room free."

"how do you know him anyways?" - yn

"we were schoolmates from high school all the way to college. he studied computer science in university so we split up." - minghao

"so what do all your friends do now?" - yn

"seungcheol is a rapper under woozi's production label. jeonghan is a model. joshua owns a company that makes jewellery. jun is an actor, hoshi is a dancer/choreographer." - minghao

"i've met hoshi before, right?" - yn

"while he was drunk, yes. wonwoo is a gaming streamer, woozi is a music producer and co-owns an entertainment company with hoshi. mingyu is a celebrity chef. dokyeom is a florist and a theatre actor. seungkwan is a model and a show host, and vernon is a model. dino is a soloist under woozi and hoshi's company." - minghao

"ah. so you all have faces blessed by genetics... great." - yn

amid her rant, she could feel herself begin to cry. where did it all go wrong? she was just a girl who wanted to be an artist. she didn't ask to not be "pretty" according to her mother.

she was a child born to be an experiment. her parents experimented with parenting on her. she was the 1.0 -- the start but never the finish.

in her rage, she threw her phone at the wall and punched a hole in her sculpture. but before she could succumb to her pain and just cry... her phone chimed.

"well, that was weird..." he muttered to himself, but he started his stream anyways.

gam3boiftw: HE'S BACCKKKKK

wonwoono.1fan: life update!!!!!!

"you want a life update? okay. so this streaming site decided to take 30% of my earnings every stream, and my apartment's rent went up so i've been busy dealing with that. it's okay now though. seollie is still very healthy... and i may be doing a vlog when i meet up with my friends next week. that's it."

gamegamebo1: play valorant.

gam3boiftw: no he should play a relaxing game

wonwo0o0o0o: nah he should play a gacha game.

"i'll play a few rounds of valorant... then maybe cookie run kingdom if it's not too late. don't blame me if i lose because i'm rusty."

-

obviously, he won all the games he played.

fbwovbero: no move the tree left some more. align it with the train

rebveornvp: no move it to the right!

"chill i know what i'm do-"

"OH FUCK!!"

a sudden shout from the room opposite his scares the daylights out of him.

gam3boiftw: wtf was that?!?!??!

fkbnenveln: help??!??!?!

"sorry i think that was my neighbour. let me go check it out, give me a few minutes."

while shaving down the side of her wood carving, she was distracted and sliced the knife along her palm, splitting it open. deep.

"OH FUCK-" oh shit. she slapped her hands over her mouth at her outburst, smearing blood all over her face. she didn't mean to shout so loud.

"oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god what the fuck do i do??????"

her door suddenly burst open.

"what h- oh my god are you okay?" - wonwoo

"i'm so sorry for shouting. i'm fine. i'll just go sort my hand out. go back to your stream." - yn

"the blood isn't from your nose?" - wonwoo

"why would the blood be from my nose?" - yn

"there's blood all over your face." - wonwoo

"OH MY GOD- oh shit sorry. i'll just go deal with this. i'm so sorry." - yn

she pushed past him, running to the bathroom to examine her cut. it was deep and bleeding non-stop.

"what the fuck do i do..."

"i ended my stream. let me drive you to the hospital." - wonwoo

wonwoo was standing in the doorway of the toilet.

"do you mind?" - yn

"you're injured. of course, i don't mind. safety first." - wonwoo

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ💓ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ badum.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

synopsis: wonwoo is a popular streamer known for his incredible gaming skills and good looks. He turned heads. but he hates the attention. he just wants to play games and earn money. one day he receives a letter. his apartment’s rent has almost doubled. no warnings at all. his current paycheck from streaming can’t shoulder those bills. he has no choice but to rent out his spare room. to who? a fresh art university graduate who has… 1. a stable job ✅ 2. talent for art and sculpting ✅ 3. many friends ❌ 4. social anxiety ✅ 5. no filter ✅ when his iconic cat logo gets copystriked, she comes to the rescue with a new logo for him. when his apartment’s walls start peeling, she fixes it. whatever he used to struggle with… the empty space... was now filled by her. so what does he *last player standing* do when her ex *enemy spotted* tries to take her back? heh. *clutch* he clutches.

inspired by wonwoo's gam3bo1 streams, falling into your smile & gogo squid (has hints of valorant)

pairing: streamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!artist!reader (ft. jeongcheol, soonhoon, junhao, seoksoo, verkwan)

genre: fluff, comfort, slowburn, comfort, pining, bestfriend!minghao

warnings: stalker ex, toxic ex, mentions of abuse, guns (game), cursing, hate comments, panic attacks

started: 28.12.23

ended: ?

taglist: join from my masterlist

main masterlist

smau socials

previous I next

tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

@belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03 @yandere-stories @coupshour @heesbees

[hotluncheddie]

stop being a goblin and let me kiss you

part 3

˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ⁎⁺˳✧༚

‘ok. ok! you just, you just gotta be cool munson. be casual. chill. just like, vibe, yeah? yeah. no more funny business.’ eddie holds his fists up to himself in the dinky bathroom mirror. a couple of jabs, a quick one two, that’ll clear his head.

clear his head enough to go out and deal with steve fucking harrington again and his stupid stupid face and neck and tongue and like pretty fucking ankle bones. fucker.

see eddies not blind, and he’s not that dumb, he knows he flirts with steve and he knows steve flirts back. he just. cant deal with it just yet. it’s like every time he’s around the guy he blacks out and resurfaces red faced and half hard. but the point at which his vision fades and all hell breaking loose seems to vary so completely that he can’t stop it happening.

their conversations will start normal, a jolly lark, a guffaw here, a story there but then bam! someone said or did something that shifted his functioning brain capacity from 60% on a good day to like -5% and that’s being generous.

he just can’t get his ratty little self to either 1) stop liking steve harrington in a gay, gay, homosexual way. or 2) accept that someone like steve harrington could possibly like aforementioned rat himself eddie munson and actually process his feeling into a reaction that’s more than; red, red, half a boner, sweaty palms, red.

so he took a second to hide in the bathroom. that’s fine, that’s kind even. self care, as robin likes to say when she paints her nails on top of steve’s head when he sits on the computer at work. he likes to make the chair super low because apparently it helps his posture and he need to keep an eye on his posture or else he’ll end up like his great uncle melvin, or something.

self care time is over however because robins knocking on the little bathroom door, hollering about needing to get home to practice for her english presentation tomorrow. so it’s time for eddie to put his big boy pants back on and get in steve’s car.

eddie full body shudders.

‘finish writing you sad boy poems on the stall walls in there? roses are red, violets are blue, i like big dumb jock boys but can’t seem to accept they like me too, even if my very cool very in the know friend robin tells me too. hm?’ robin slings an arm over his shoulder and steers him back to the table.

eddie sniffs, crossing his arms ‘that last bit doesn’t rhyme so, i will be ignoring all of it. F for u buckbey.’

‘not everything has to rhyme perfectly u know. it can still fit together just fine as it is.’ she tugs on one of his curls before slipping back into steve side, finishing off the last of his milkshake and hauling him out of the booth because she ‘has shit to do dingus.’

too smart for her own good that chick. eddie loves her. he’s also going to move away and never talk to her ever again, maybe steal her collection of berets too, become a hat guy, once he reinvents himself. yeah.

steve is putting a few bills on the table, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. ‘just fries tonight ed’s? that makes you kind of a cheap date don’t you think?’ tapping eddie under the chin before following robin to the door, smacking his palm on the frame above on the way out. because of course he does, the neanderthal. all broad shoulders and biceps and ass.

there a second where eddie thinks steve could smack him like that but then he feels his vision spotting. can a guy not catch a break around here? jesus!

the car ride is a blissful reprieve due to cyndi lauper coming on, which had steve and robin performing a duet. which then needed to be tweaked and discussed in detail ready for the next time that specific song came on the radio.

it was honestly nice to watch. eddie had walked to family video that day because his van keeps playing up after it’s stint hidden in the woods. poor girl just needs a day off once in a while so eddie walks and then listens to car duets from two very much none singers. but it nice. makes his heart all yucky and warm.

until robin is leaving. leaving him alone to be a big nerd with a future. leaving him alone to make a fool of himself again. his ego is big and he likes to keep it that way.

‘you coming up here then’ steve shifts slightly, looking as far as he can over his shoulder at eddie huddled behind the drivers seat. ‘no’ he squeaks because last time steve got all up in his face getting his tape box out of the glove compartment. rifling through it while it was on eddies lap. so close eddie could smell the apple from his shampoo and the cigarette they’d shared earlier.

self care.

‘ooh you want the full harington taxi service do you? i see, well then govna, where too is it?’ steve tips his invisible cap and has the most awful cockney accent eddies ever heard, and he did middle school theatre.

‘geeze, just take me home dude.’ eddie shoves through the gap between the seats, landing heavy in the passenger. crossing his arms and trying to hide his smile behind his hair.

‘there he is. out of the shadows.’ steve tucks some of his curls behind his ear. eddie sees the soft smile out of his peripheral. tries to swallow the cotton in his mouth. steve turn back to the road ‘let’s rock ‘n roll’ he revvs the engine, wiggling his eyebrows, before checking his blind spot and pulling away into a cushy 30mph.

eddie looks out the window and hides his grin in his palm.

˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ⁎⁺˳✧༚

part 1 (eddie) part 2 (steve) part 4 (steve) part 5 (eddie) part 6 (steve) part 7 (eddie)

tags! ( ty for asking to be tagged wow so lovely can’t believe it hehe :3c ) (sry if i missed anyone or u didn’t want to be tagged just let me know!)

@bidisastersworld @sadcanadianwinter @mightbeasleep @butterflysandpeppermint @gregre369 @fandomz-brainrot @satan-is-obsessed @resident-gay-bitch @grtwdsmwhr @forsexyscience

[partiallypearl]

ipod shuffle challenge

wanted to write, but couldn't figure out how to start anything, so i figured i'd bring back the ipod shuffle challenge and see what i could write for btr characters! if anyone else wants to try their hand at it, the rules will be below, and my drabbles will be under the keep reading!

IPod Shuffle Challenge Rules: Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle. Write a ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards! No editing! Do ten of these, and then post them.

What do ya miss? - Matt Storm

The box in the back of his closet holds everything Kendall’s too scared to look at. All the things Jo gave to him. The light blue beanie. Tickets from when they went to watch Varsity Vampire 3 together. The friendship bracelet she made for him while Big Time Rush went on their first tour. 

It’s a sad graveyard of sorts of his ex girlfriend. He hates it. It’s like no matter what he can’t escape her. 

And the sadder part? He doesn’t really want to. 

&

Scatterbrain - Emei

Logan’s never been very scatterbrained. He’s always had his head screwed on pretty well. But Camille makes his head go all fuzzy, and his heart feel like it's going to pound out of his damn head. 

She smells like vanilla cake, and her lipgloss sticks to his cheeks and lips no matter how much he wipes it off. She’s everywhere. He sees her in the Palm Woods, and around LA, and when they’re on, it’s great, but when they’re off, it sucks. 

She’s not vindictive of it either. Though she definitely could be. 

&

get a grip! - caroline dare

“I thought it was common sense to not break your promises?” Lucy asks, and Kendall gives her that stupid sheepish smile that makes her always forgive him. 

She had told herself, when she first got to LA, that she wasn't going to pull the same shit she did in Georgia. She wasn’t going to let a boy get her hopes up again. She wasn’t going to allow another boy to make her think she was his whole world, when in reality she wasn’t. 

But here she is. Watching as Kendall flounders for an excuse, knowing damn well that she knows the truth. That Jo is back, and that even if he won’t admit it, he’s already made his choice. Truthfully, Lucy never stood a fucking chance.

“Get a grip on it.” She tells him. He looks at her, green eyes flaring up. “Like you really want it Knight. Because I’m not waiting around to be disappointed again.” 

&

you don’t know me - allison iraheta 

Lucy’s album goes viral as soon as it’s released. Kendall does his best to avoid it. You Dumped Me For Her is scathing, and he’s well aware how badly he fucked up. Besides, he’s happy with Jo. He doesn't need to keep up with what his sort of ex is doing. Right? 

Nonetheless, he’s pretty damn good at avoiding Lucy’s music until she releases her second single, You Don’t Know Me. The song is pretty similar to You Dumped Me, but the lyrics haunt him even more. 

“You don’t wanna know what’s real,” the song says, and Kendall remembers the Asian rockstar telling him that at one point. They’d been hanging out in Lucy’s apartment alone, and he had asked her why she never talked about her past. 

“Boys like you typically run away from girls like me.” She had told him, sipping on the wine coolers she’d snuck in. Kendall had disagreed with her, and he had protested. “No. I wanna know everything about you.” He had said after a long sip of his beer. Lucy had shaken her head. 

“You don’t wanna know what’s real Kendall. It would scare you away. Trust me.” He had wanted to protest, but he decided not to. 

Now, nearly 6 months later, he thinks she may have been right. He didn’t know her. And now, he wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted to.

[prettypinkporkchop]

Hi!! Can you please do a story where reader goes on a camping trip and they all sit around the fire getting wasted and Paul and or embry has to tale care of her?

Boy! I was literally just making GIFs for embry so YES THIS ONE IS PERFECT!!!!

Mention of VOMIT AND PEE lol

You, Emily, Kim, and Rachel are chilling while the pack goes around, picking up wood. You guys sit on lawn chairs that everyone brought. The tents are already set up.

This was Sam's idea. It's more of a pack renewal type thing because Jacob, Seth, and Leah left the pack. While they are still family to you guys, it's a different pack. This is a starting over for the Uly's.

Rachel touches your arm with a freezing cold and dripping beer from the cooler. The cold makes you jump, and you playfully shove her. "Cmon now!" You laugh. "Why did we even bring beer if us girls are the only ones going to get drunk?" Kim giggles. The boys finish their wood gathering and sit down with you girls. Embry, obviously, sits next to you. You see his hand resting on his knee. You put your fingers in between his. He smiles at you and looks away as Jared grabs his attention.

You lean over to the cooler that sits in between you and Rachel. You grab a beer and open it. Embry looks at you and makes a warning and playful look. "You never know your limits, babe. Careful." He chuckles. "Let the girl live!" Paul jokes.

After lots of dancing, drinking, and fooling around, you're pretty drunk. Okay, really drunk. You can't see very straight and you are dancing with Kim. "Y/n, I'm not gonna lie, I'm plastered!" Kim yells over the music. You laugh, spinning her around. "Me too!" You yell back. Jared grabs her waist, pulling her into him. "Hey!" You protest, but Embry steps in front of you. "Hey.." You say sensually. You turn around and press yourself against him, sliding down. "Hey, babe." He pulls you up while chuckling. He looks around at everyone to make sure they didn't see. "You're definitely going to get sick in the morning." He sighs, turning you around and holding your face. You shake your head and then start crying.

"Baby? What's wrong?" He wipes your tears with his thumbs. "I.. I just love you. I want to be a shifter, too." You cry. Embry starts laughing and shaking his head. "I love you too, but you don't want that. Plus, I'm the protector, and that's the way I like it." He pulls your face into his chest and kisses your head.

You suddenly got the urge to move around and the sadness turns into happiness. "Gotta blast!" You push yourself out of his arms and then stumble toward Sam. "Ya know.... your wife is hot." You point at Emily. Rachel steps beside you and grabs your shoulder. "I'd have to agree." Sam looks at you both is an amused expression. His eyes lift up a bit to look at the guys behind you two. "We shouldn't have brought the beer!" Sam laughs.

"Rachel, what are you doing?" Paul asks, dragging her away. Embry takes your hand and pulls you away. "Okay, it's late and you're drunk as fuck. Bed time." He drags you toward the tejt. "NOOO!" You cry out and try to get out of his grip. "Don't tell me no." He laughs, pulling the zipper down and opening the tent. He steps in, pulling you in as well.

You plop on top of him and groan. He holds you tightly and strokes your hair. "Give up?" He asks. "No." You mumble. You try to lift yourself up but struggle. You're starting to feel very sick. "Em..." You warn. He automatically knew. He urgently hands you a plastic bag used for trash.

It doesn't even take a second. It's coming out. You feel Embry get behind you and pull your hair into a ponytail. It's like a fountain. Oh god, you puked.... and... peed in your shorts. Wonderful. And it was on the blankets you were supposed to sleep in.

You finish throwing up, eyes red and watery. Embry grabs the bag from you and steps outside. He tosses it somewhere. He comes back quickly, and you look up at him with shame. "Baby..." You begin. "Yes, my love?'' His face shows how worried he is. "When I puked, I peed." You sniffle. He smiles, kisses your cheek, and then digs through your guy's clothes. "It's fine, babes. Emily obviously brought way too many blankets." He pulls out a new pair of shorts and underwear. You get up and take off your clothes. He grabs the blankets and takes them out. You start to panic. Where did he put the blankets? What did he say? You grab your cottenelle wipes and clean yourself up.

Embry comes back with fresh blankets and lays them out. "Where did you put them?" You ask shyly. "I just folded them up and put them in my truck." He smiles.

You reach down and try to pull up your undies but nearly fall over. Embry catches you and lays you down. "No, I got you." He lifts up your undies and puts on your shorts. He tucks you in the blankets and gets up to grab water and painkillers in your bag.

Next thing you know, you're out.

Morning hits, you wake up feeling absolutely awful. You take the painkillers and drink the water. Embry laying next to you, groans at your movements, and rolls over. You carefully make your way off of the piled up blankets to grab a good hangover snack.

After playing on your phone for a good bit, you hear movements and talking outside. You brush your teeth and then quietly make it out of the tent. Emily is making sandwiches and chatting with Kim and Jared. They turn to look at you. "You as hungover as me?" Kim asks. "I think so." You sit next to Emily.

A few moments later, Embry steps out of the tent. You stand up and make your way to him. "You okay, my baby?" He looks all over your face with worry (THAT GIF THAT GIF). "I'm feeling better. Thank you for everything." You wrap your arms around his neck. He grabs your waist and plants loving kisses on your lips.

[sameatsfunions]

Just finished chapter 11 of my fanfic! It’s almost done so I’ll be wrapping up the first book in my series. Very excited this was my best chapter yet if you haven’t read it yet and liked this post, please feel free to click the link below!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie felt his heart sinking, it almost felt like it wasn’t even beating anymore. Like when Steve left, he took his heart with him. His breathing was shallow, every second that passed the words Steve said replayed in his head.

Faggot. Freak. Don’t call me. Don’t talk to me. Leave me alone….

Eddie felt like something was clawing inside his chest, fighting to get out. A feeling of anger so strong that he didn’t even notice he was walking. No, he was running. He ran and ran, past trailers, past cars, into the woods. He ran until his lungs were on fire, until his feet hurt, and then he ran some more.

He didn’t know where he was or where he was going; he was just running away. Away from the memory, from the moment, as far away as he could possibly get. He stopped for just a second in the middle of the woods, surrounded by trees, the light of the moon cascading down on him. He huffed air out and his breath was so thick it clouded him, just like his love for Steve. The way he blindly followed and loved him. Before Eddie could register what he was doing, a scream erupted from his throat. It was a scream of pain, of heartache, of longing. It echoed around him as he fell to his knees, the cool air no match for the heat of his skin.

Steam rising off his bare arms, he breathed heavily and felt a hole inside of him. Whatever was hiding in the depths of his soul - it had crawled out and was sitting with him in the woods, pressing down on his shoulders. It felt like the weight of the world was resting on them.

Why. Why me. Why me. I don’t understand. Why Steve? Eddie let out a whimper of pain, his inner thoughts leaving his mind, giving them a real voice.

“Fucking Christ.” He said, feeling the darkness around him, the one that haunted him most of his life. Never good enough. Undeserving of love.

He huffed and cried and fell to his hands, fully braced in the fallen leaves and sticks. The dirt sticking to his hands as he lifted one to wipe his face, tears leaving the stains of his heart on his cheeks, the dirt smudging, turning to mud as it collided with his tears. He sniffed the snot back into his nose as he stood up, looking around. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know which way he came from.

“Idiot.” He said out loud to himself, looking for any sign of civilization, finding nothing but the emptiness of his own self and the crunch of nature beneath his bare feet. He walked, still overly warm for the temperature being what it was so late into the year.

Eddie walked back - or what he believed was back - towards the trailer park, but the woods never seemed to end. He felt the exhaustion of running hitting him like a train, the anger that fueled him now dissipating into a deep depressive sadness. His body no longer felt hot, just cold and empty. His legs grew weaker as did his drive to keep walking. The hollow feeling in his chest not making him feel lighter but heavier with each step. Eddie saw a log not too far in front of him and sat down next to it, resting his head on his arm as he gave in to the exhaustion.

He listened to the chirps of crickets and the peaceful whispers of the trees in the slight breeze, the cold setting in finally, leaving him shivering. He felt his toes starting to numb as his eyes became heavy. Before he knew it, he was drifting off to a place where he could only hope Steve was waiting for him.

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Forty-Seven

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues, conspiracy theories.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: BACK FROM HIATUS! SO, I'm not 100% my health is still very touch and go, but I am taking this very slowly. We are on the FINAL stretch for Roses... I actually now know how many chapters are left... I know its both sad and amazing... so hold on!

To read from the beginning, check out the Masterlist Here!

If you would like to be added to this tag list please see THIS FORM

tags: @faceless-mirror @missduffsblog @tamtam-elizabeth @witchyweeb34 @tearfallpixie

@wild-child-7747 @shilohrosechicken @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens @valiantroeagleangel

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @miamore0570 @emmmm127

@sunsshinesunny @spicywhenspeaking @dontdiganothergravetoday @chick-from-nz @latenightmusiclover

@anameunmusical

Chris woke slowly the next morning, he was more than happy to be in his toasty bed this early, he had no desire to change anything. Talia was snuggled against his chest and the feeling of her small warm body pressed against him made him smile softly against the top of her head. Breathing in, he sighed against her hair happily, it had been so long since it had felt so good to wake up like this. After a moment, Chris was reaching for Rick too, Rick, where the hell had he disappeared off to? Tilting his head, groaning softly, damn coffee addict, yeah, he probably knew where he’d gone at this hour, too fucking early Ricky, come on already, come on. Turning his head, he glanced at his bedside table where the alarm clock sat, the one he never set, who didn’t use their phone as their alarm clock these days? Sure enough, just as he suspected, it was way too damn early for this nonsense. He was going to kick his ass when he got back here, he’d have to have the best damn coffee in the world to bribe him, and even then, thin ice!

As Talia shifted against him, at first he just sighed against her shoulder, happy to hold her. A moment later, her ass was rubbing against him just a little bit too distinctly for him to think it was an accident. Chris smiled slightly, oh, she was being cheeky this morning, as he couldn’t help but let out a moan, the sound coupled with the press of a soft kiss of his lips to the side of her neck. His lips brushed against her skin as he enjoyed the blissful feeling of the morning warmth of her skin before he murmured low.

“Careful there, JellyBean, might actually think you’re awake doing that.”

Oh, he knew she was awake already with her movements against him, but he could play her game. Chris sneaked his arm around her waist, smooth wrapping himself around her body, pulling her back against him  properly, rolling his hips against her more. As he did, he knew she could feel his morning wood quite easily if she hadn’t already from the way she’d been shifting against him before. His rough voice whispering low, breath dancing across her skin.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

It was then, he heard what he heard an almost affronted gasp coming from her as she twisted around to look at him. The look on her face was incredulous.

“Christopher Cerulli!”

Chuckling to himself, shit, okay, he knew the moment she said that he was in for it, even if her tone was nothing but amused. There was also the way she was pressing her thigh right against his cock, waking his half aroused morning wood to full hardness, no question there, what she wanted now.

“Does it really seem like this is something that I can’t finish?”

Chris couldn’t help but moan at the way she continued to rock her hips, so her thigh would rub against his cock and show her exactly just how much she meant those words. With their bodies covered up under the blankets of the bed, they were pretty much wrapped up together, it would have been all three of them if Rick hadn’t absconded. Her warmth was kicking up his heat even more, and Chris couldn’t get enough of her.

“Someone is certainly cheeky this morning, Baby.”

Oh, how delicious she looked right now, with the way her cheeks flushed when he called her on it. Of course, pairing it with the way their tattoos flared up, and the way her hips stuttered in their movements against him, he had a feeling nothing about how she felt about him calling her on it, was truly upset. Smiling with a gasp at the feeling of both, he couldn’t help but thrust his hips a bit back against hers, pushing her back against the bed now, shifting over her finally. 

Chris brought his lips to hers with a groan as he felt the way her hands started running up his back, her nails scrapping slowly over his skin, digging in ever so lightly. He just savoured the way she started to draw patterns in his skin, she wasn’t even tracing his tattoos, considering she couldn’t see them from under him, no, she was just feeling his skin. She was enjoying his body, his touch, just as he was hers, her legs wrapped around him, as he shifted his hips, and his cock lined up and so slowly, pressed deep inside of her.

This was a blissful way to wake up in the morning, his body just rocking into hers, slow, and lazy, Talia was in no rush to speed up either as he kept kissing her. Humming against Chris lips as she let the kisses linger against his skin. Yes, he was so deep inside of her, but neither of them were in any hurry, nothing about this moment felt hasty, everything was so soothing, and peaceful. Yes, she’d been cheeky and goading him into it, but how could she resist him, when she had this gorgeous naked man laying with her in his bed. If Ricky had still been here, she’d likely be wrapped up in both of them right now, in one way or another. Resisting either of them last night had been impossible, this morning likely would have been no better.

It was funny, Talia usually thought she was a woman that had rather good restraint, but they were both proving her all kinds of wrong. It wasn’t just the effects of the tattoo either, right from just coming here, her afternoon coffees with Chris, she’d started falling right from the start looking back on them. She’d enjoyed each and every conversation with him, he had a way about him what just had her enthralled and wrapped up in his every whim. 

That much was more than just a little bit obvious now as his hips rocked into her body, drawing a moan out of her as his cocked stroked at her inner walls gently. 

“Fuck, Chris, just like that, Daddy, please.”

He’d curled his hips and now the head of his cock was just grazing her sweet spot inside of her. Sure, he could be hammering at it, and making her see stars, like fireworks going off, until she screamed the whole house down. Probably no doubt all his neighbours would know just what they were doing this early in the morning, noise complaints from the neighbours if they weren’t careful. Maybe her imagination was running away from her, it wasn’t like Talia had ever really been that adventurous before with her past lovers, but there had been moments. 

No, this was everything, the perfect feeling of lazy morning sex. A nuanced mix of gentle and slowly waking up to the world as it was brightening for the day. Oh, was Talia waking up with everything Chris was going to her. With every stoke of his cock inside of her, she was grasping into his body, gasping with little tiny whimper against his skin as she felt herself slowly inch higher and higher, tensing as her body coiled with her release. 

“Daddy, Chris, I’m so close.”

Moaning softly as her nails were digging in a little into the back of his shoulders, she panted against his mouth as he kissed her, teeth scraping against his lip, trying to ground herself. Arching up from the bed against him, her hips rising, with the ways her thighs had enveloped him, she was just rocking with him to get more friction. As much as she didn’t want to rush him, every morsel of her being was begging him, begging to let her fall, and to fall over that edge with her. 

Hearing her moan, and those soft little whimpers like that, it was killing him to hear her beg like that and only going so slow, but it was perfection.. There was something about slow morning sex that was just so addictive. When he was on tour, and having to get off whenever he could, searching for the quick release, and just find a moment whenever he could.. But this, there was power in this for Chris, for both of them, and oh how he loved it. 

“I know, Baby, I know, you are being so good for me.”

As he rolled his hips again, thrusting into her slowly, deeper again, pulling another moan from her with his words and he shuddered, she was like putty right now. Looking down at her, how could anyone have resisted this woman for so long? He wasn’t judging Ricky, no, it was all the idiots that had turned her down for years for no reason other than not being their soul mate. Not ever giving her a change, not getting to know her. Worse than idiots. 

Feeling her clench around him, no, he couldn’t hold back any longer, no matter how much drawing out the moment made it even better, fuck.

“Okay, now, now you can cum for me Baby, go on. That's it, cum for Daddy.”

Hearing her whine as she gave in, the way she clenched around him, seeing the pleasure across her face the way he hadn’t been able to just the night before, it was blissful. Shit, and her clenching around his cock so tight had his thrusts turning so erratic as he chased his orgasm before he was cumming inside of her. Both of them wrapped up tight with each other as he filled her with his release, moaning her name as he did. 

They laid like that, cuddled up together, just lounging in the basking in the feeling of the glow their bodies wrapped up together. Sharing lazy kisses, hands running up and down their skin as they explored. Chris wasn’t sure how much long after they were done that he heard the front door, about time, smirking against Talia’s lips, Rick had just gotten back.

When Ricky woke up, both Chris and Talia had still been completely asleep. Watching them for a moment, he knew he wanted to do something for them this morning, and he didn’t think his usual repertoire of burnt breakfast and coffee was going to cut it. Especially because one, Chris’ coffee machine sucked, something he’d reminded him of multiple time since staying here, and two, he didn’t know what he had to cook with. Fine, that made his choice easy, he’d got out and pick something up, quickly, hopefully before they woke up.

They woke up.

Oh, did they wake up.

He got back with the breakfasts and coffees to find them wrapped up in bed all cosy and warm, and very much finished having some early morning fun and smirked at the sight of them wrapped up in each other. Chuckling at them,

“Well, look at you two, seems like I missed out on all the fun.”

Raising an eyebrow as Chris just turned his head to him and threw back the covers, exposing their naked bodies to him,

“Let me remind you, you’re the idiot that left. Besides, nothing is stopping you from joining us for some more.”

Seeing that lazy smirk on his lips as Chris looked at him so tempting right then, Ricky just couldn’t help but groan at the prospect, but…

“And ruin breakfast?”

Chris just rolled his eyes, 

“Please, when have either of us ever turned down a cold breakfast?”

He wasn’t wrong, considering the multitudes of times they were dragging themselves up while they were on tour and living on the bus. Whether Talia knew what they were both thinking or not, she was giggling a little herself then,

“Not to mention, there is always reheating the food. Now are you going to join us or…”

Easier offers were never suggested with the two of them lying there like that, and Ricky couldn’t strip out of his clothes again fast enough now to join them in the bed. Neither Talia nor Chris seemed to mind waiting a little bit longer for anything to eat compared to being wrapped up in each other for a lazy day in bed. Why would they when now that they had Ricky back?

Dividers by @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune