#shrink x online

[drewsbraziliangf]

nothing to say when heaven falls | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: what can you do when the person that’s supposed to understand and be on your side chooses to doubt your fears?

Word count: 1388

a/n: not edited, we die like soldiers!!!!! pls let me know if you wish to be added to my taglist

"How can't you see how disrespectful this is to me, Drew?" You ask with a strained voice and teary eyes. "Everywhere you go she's looming like a shadow."

"She's my friend, what do you want me to do?" Exasperated, he asks.

"I don't know. Maybe tell her that your fiancé doesn't feel comfortable with her following you around, traveling abroad to see you or fuck, being all fucking touchy and handsy with you in public."

My throat was burning as the words slipped my mouth but I simply couldn't avoid it any longer. I am so tired of this whole situation and it has been going on for far too long. I just can't hold it back anymore.

"Can't exactly tell her what to do," he rolled his eyes this time.

"Really? Am I really asking for that much?" I look at the man in front of me with disbelief, "I just want to feel like I'm not invisible in my own goddamn relationship. She sees you more than I do and I am the one with a ring on my finger. How is this fair?" 

"Babe, listen, there's nothing going on between me and her. You have to believe me," he pleads as he runs his hands through his hair.

"You don't think I'm trying to believe you? I'm in the trenches everyday telling myself this over and over again, but how can I turn a blind eye to it when the first thing I see whenever I'm online is that you're both coincidently in the same city. For the millionth time."

I know that pulling this out in the open this way isn't the best option. But how could I keep bottling all of this up when it's causing such a heavy pain in my chest every time I see their names together?

It was always clear the perks of dating a public figure and I never backed out on it. Now seeing the man who asked me to spend the rest of my life with him and have his babies walking around with the woman everyone swears he was romantically involved with is messed up.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he admits as he walks away from me.

That felt like a punch. Because how could I make it anymore obvious? Do I have to draw it to a thirty year old why he should respect the woman he chose to propose to? 

“Are you for real right now?” I asked as I follow him into the kitchen of our shared apartment. “Did you really just said that to me, Joseph?”

At this point it felt like there was no going back anymore, either this was going to be totally fixed here or it wouldn’t at all. The bandaid was ripped and the wound was open and burning.

“How can you be so dull? You really can’t see what the problem here is?” 

I watch as he fills a glass with water and turns his back to me. He did it twice already. The off white walls of the kitchen lacked the warm they always brought when we were in it together. It felt claustrophobic and like the roof was going to fall over our heads at any given minute.

“You’re acting like I’m cheating on you. Like this is some major fuck up. It isn’t, you’re turning it into something it isn’t.” His tone was cold but looking at his posture it was clear that he was trying to maintain his calm.

The condescending tone in his voice made me want to shrink into myself and hide away from the world.

“Oh, right. Yeah, blame it on me for thinking that my fiancé going out of his way to be with his ex fuck buddy isn’t normal.”

“Careful,” he warns once finally looks at me.

“Or what, Drew? What else could you possibly do that will make me feel worse than I already do?” I challenge, my gaze locked on him as I wait.

After a few minutes of us staring down at each other, he shakes his head and sighs. 

“I’m not doing whatever this is. I’m done entertaining this,” he declares and he leans against the countertop.

Drew and I met around two years ago through a mutual friend. We instantly hit off and after a few dates, he officially asked me to be his girlfriend - which I obviously accepted. We had this instant connection that isn’t common. At first I was terrified of it, I knew who he was and the fact that his life was always being scrutinized by thousands of people. I knew what people said online about him and as we got closer and closer I couldn’t help but lose myself in the speculations about him even more.

Our relationship was great and we always made sure that each others boundaries were respected, so color me stoked to be in this situation right now. I am not dumb and every single day there is a needle pinching me making me think of stuff and situations like the one we find ourselves right now just indulge those thoughts.

In the early days of our relationship we made sure there were no secrets between us and past relationships. I knew I was his first black girlfriend, I knew he was born and raised in the South too. So joining that and the fact that I am an immigrant did make me scared of a lot of things, the main of them being the fact that it isn’t uncommon at all for men to always find their way back to that they are used to. 

So seeing her upon him all the time while people online barely know about our relationship feels like hell. Because even though I’m in family pictures that his sisters post online, and the very visible ring on my finger I am never considered the option of being his significant other. She is. Every single time. And he never did anything about it - hell, he never even set boundaries with her and she knows that we’re together. Am I really reading too much into things? 

Being three months away from our wedding day, this isn’t the kind of thought or conversations I would like to be having. I should be fucking excited and dress hunting, but lately the only thing that I feel like doing is swallowing lumps and holding back tears, faking smiles and pretending I’m fine. I’m not, I’m fucking falling apart and I’m so tired of begging to be seen. 

“I don’t know how else to tell you that I am not comfortable with this and that you shouldn’t be either,” I point out as the first tear cross the edges of my cheeks. “I don’t know how else to ask you to respect our relationship.”

“I respect our relationship, I always did. I just don’t think that what you’re saying right now makes any sense. Whatever I had with her in the past is over.” He says as he runs one of his hands through his face.

“Drew, honey, you’re not seeing things from my point of view. Imagine if it was me catching planes every other day to be with someone that I was involved in with in the past. And all of our friends know that you and I are together. How would that make you feel?”

At that he says nothing but silence can mean many things, and in this case it means consent. 

Tired of this back in forth conversation, I reach for my phone that was besides his on the counter and as if the timing couldn’t be more right, the screen of his phone lights up with an incoming call. No surprise flashes through my features as I see the picture on the caller id, both of them in a mirror picture as they brush their teeth.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I confess watching as he reaches for his phone quickly declining the call. “Not when you’re up to your eyeballs into whatever this is. I’ll make the calls tomorrow and cancel the dates with the venue.”

I grab my phone and my purse and I walk towards the front door before he can say anything else, I’m closing it behind me. 

[formulawolff]

“you taste sweeter” — m.v.

pairing -> social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count -> 3.3k (oopsies!)

warnings -> cussing, slight angst, mentions of hate comments online, desperate + needy max, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, sweet moments, slight praise kink, tender max, yadayadayada

a/n -> the win in brazil today inspired me to write. it’s probably not my best work buttttt someone asked for a part ii to this fic here. i hope you guys enjoy! <3

"i'm sorry that this weekend has been a shit show."

lips press against your knuckles, carefully caressing them one by one.

"stop it," your hand darts out, cupping his cheek, "you're always so hard on yourself."

a chuckle rumbles in his chest, and you catch the hint of stars in his gaze as your eyes meet.

"i think i deserve to be a little harsh on myself. p17 is ridiculous."

you exhale, shaking your head slightly, "but you have to remember that was not your fault. you cannot control the weather, and you sure as hell cannot control what happens when the track is slick."

"i just feel terrible," he shrugs, folding his arms against his chest, "you flew all the way out here to just get drenched. you had to wake up with me at god knows what time to make it to the track. i'm supposed to be up in the fucking front and now i don't even feel like i have a chan-"

"stop it," your jaw clenches, "i wouldn't have flown out if i didn't want to be here. i wanted to be here and support you, max. there is nowhere else i would rather be than by your side."

the corners of his lips twitch into a meek smile, the dutch driver leaning in, "you're so fucking cute when you're all riled up."

"only because i hate to see you be so hard on yourself!" you protest, throwing your hands up in the air, "you are a generational talent. i wish you could see that."

"thank you baby," you can't help but notice that he's beaming now, "thank you, for being here."

"like i said," you murmur, your heart skipping a beat as you find the space between the two of you dissipating by the second, "there is nowhere else i would-"

"maxxxx! it's time for -- oh my god i am so sorry."

gianpiero's voice cuts through the space, the two of you shrinking back as he stands in the doorway the driver's room, a hand over his mouth.

"don't worry about it," max clears his throat, shooting you one more look before turning to gianpiero, "is it time?"

"it's time," max's race engineer confirms, checking his watch, "we need to get moving."

"all right," max sucks in a breath, rising to his feet, "i guess it's time."

you mirror his action, ensuring that you have your race day bag before shifting toward him. his arms wrap around your frame, bringing you in for a tight embrace.

for a moment, he's still, not moving a muscle as you bury your head into his chest. his fingers knead into your shoulder blades, strands of hushed dutch filling your ear. the words are tender, almost as if he was promising you something.

you weren't quite sure what, though.

"good luck out there tiger," you whisper, "i believe in you."

his arms pull away, the driver's lower lip trembling ever so slightly as he begins to follow gianpiero. before leaving the room, he ensures that gianpiero's back is turned, nearly bounding back toward you.

lips crash into yours, a hurried but passionate kiss. forceful enough to leave your knees buckling, yet laced with a sweetness that you couldn't quite place your finger on.

"i love you."

heat flourishes into your cheeks as he departs, looking back over his shoulder one more time before jogging down the hall, in efforts to catch up with gianpiero.

your heart flutters, a coziness seeping into your chest as you catch your breath.

max was never one to let his emotions get in the way of race day. he was always so poised, so focused on what was ahead. he was never privy to publicly showcasing his affection to you either. especially on sundays.

it never bothered you, really. you knew the stakes involved. you knew how important this was to him. you were well aware of the way people spoke about him online and in the media. lately, it had been nothing but negative energy. not only from the press and commentary, but from the fans as well.

you never overstepped. you never teetered over the boundaries he set in place for race weekends. you always ensured to keep your affection away from the public eye.

so, to witness that desperation to kiss you one last time. to hear those three words before he left. to feel him against pressed against you, reluctant to let go.

to you, that was everything.

and as voices buzzed in the air, the tension nearly electric as members of the crew paced around the garage as the rain pounded against the tarmac, max verstappen could only think about one thing.

and that one thing, was you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

droplets of water scatter about, the team rushing toward the car as a shiver runs down your spine.

max slips out of the car, nearly tumbling as he makes his way to the ground. your limbs itch, from your fingers to your toes, nearly screaming to take a step forward.

to make your way toward him.

he's drenched, the color of his suit a few shades darker as he claws his helmet and balaclava off, running a hand through his hair. his eyes scan through the garage briefly, picking through the throng.

his brow is furrowed, lips wound tight together with concentration.

you know he's looking for you.

yet, you don't move.

there was too much to risk if you approached him. in the aftermath of colapinto's crash, a red flag was issued on the track. with max's current position behind ocon and the ability to change tyres, there was a new opportunity presented before him.

the opportunity to overtake ocon from p2 to p1, therefore maintaining the lead and potentially winning the grand prix.

however, there were other factors present.

with a fresh start, the other drivers were presented with the same opportunity. lando norris in the rocketship of the mclaren would also be able to overtake as well, potentially threatening max's chance of a win. and with the current conditions of the track, who knew what would happen in the final thirty laps.

there was so much to consider. so much to speculate. so much to lose.

and because of that, you knew you couldn't interfere.

you couldn't do that to him.

to max, winning meant everything.

and to risk throwing him off over a simple hello or you're doing great? you couldn't bear the weight of knowing you had something to do that. you couldn't be the reason he lost momentum.

so, you stayed put, now blending in with the crew as they returned back into the garage, max sailing off down the pit lane, back in the direction of the track.

yet, as the dutch driver clutches the wheel, his heart thumping against his chest, he could only focus on one thing.

that bright, beautiful smile plastered across your face the moment you saw his car rolling up toward the pit.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

"come here!"

he practically barrels into you, sweeping you into his arms. tears stream down your cheeks, cries of joy bubbling up in your throat as he squeezes you.

"i-i love you," he sputters, "fuck i love you."

your head tilts back, lower lip quivering as you take him in.

his eyes are tinged pink, glossy as your fingertips trace along his jaw. there's a swarm coming any minute now, ready to hoist him up on their shoulders, jeering his name. in the grandstands, there's the dull roar of the crowd, chanting along with the crew. his suit is soaked through, leaving a wet imprint all over your clothes.

yet, there is nothing else that matters but him.

"i love you m-more, maxie," you sniffle, wiping away a tear, "y-you have no idea how fucking proud of you i am."

his mouth collides with yours, a heated, heavy kiss as the rain patters. your hand wraps around the base of his neck, tangling into his hair as his mouth opens, deepening the kiss. his tongue slides along your lip, seeking entry.

you're about to let him in before he breaks away, nearly panting. a crimson hue paints his cheeks, his chest heaving.

"fuck."

"what?" you press, your brow arching.

"nothing," he shakes his head, nearly bewildered as he studies you, "you just look beautiful. so fucking beautiful right now in the rain."

your own clothes are beginning to cling to your body, damp from the stormy morning. your makeup is still intact, but smudged slightly from the kiss and the humid atmosphere. he can sense your exhaustion, but your eyes are wide, nothing but adoration swimming in their depths. drops cling to your hair, glittering as you cock your head.

"you just won a race and you're worried about how beautiful i look?"

to max, there was no other word to describe you in this moment but ethereal. a stunning ray of golden, pure light as the clouds hung low in the sky.

not just any light.

his light.

at your sentiment, his gaze hardens, the dutch driver's jaw clenching as the pad of his thumb grazes your cheek.

"y-you have no fucking idea what you do to-"

"max!" a voice cuts in, nearly grating through all the noise, "what a hell of a race that was!"

you bite down on your tongue as christian horner comes into view, along with numerous members of the crew. max's eyes dart to you, but he's swiftly whisked away, the sensation of his warm hands merely a phantom.

however, your mind can't help but replay the kiss. the way his hands roamed, desperate to bring you in closer than you imagined possible. the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the two of you floating from the euphoria. the way you swore you could see stars gleaming in his stare as you cried, overwhelmed with pride.

pride for your man.

the man who managed to go from p17 to p1 in a single race. the man who made a statement.

the man who managed to pull off the impossible.

and he was yours.

all yours.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

"you have no idea how much i've been looking forward to this."

sweats cling to his hips as he is snuggled against you, arms wrapped around your waist. his head rests on your chest, lashes fluttering as you run a hand through his hair. you're almost underneath him, his body nearly squishing you. but you don't mind, as you were savoring the minutes.

the final hours together before you would inevitably have to part ways, saying those goodbyes at the airport.

oh, how you dreaded that moment. more than anything.

you would have to return to work, and he would be halfway across the world, enjoying a brief break before the final few races.

at least you would have vegas together.

but that felt so fucking far away, especially with the race scheduled at the end of the month.

"what are you thinking about up there?"

max's voice is merely a whisper, catching you off guard. you flinch, his head lifting, swiveling so that you're forced to meet his concerned stare.

"nothing," you shrug, "nothing important."

"hmm," he hums, leaning in for a peck, "that's a lie. you're always thinking about something. important or not, i want to know what it is."

"i'm just thinking about tomorrow," you lower your head, careful to avoid eye contact, "i just had such a perfect weekend and-"

"it's not over yet," fingers grasp your chin, "we still have the night together."

"but we have to get up early and make sure i'm at the airport on time and-"

lips connect with yours, his body shifting so that he's on top, practically pinning you to the plush mattress. a whine rises in your throat at the fierceness of the kisses, the way they send a fiery sensation burning throughout as his tongue explores your mouth.

his mouth pulls away, drifting to your jaw. instinctively, your hips buck forward, brushing against his as places sloppy, wet kisses along your neck.

"don't worry about the morning," his mouth hovers by your ear, "just focus on me, okay?"

you nod, "o-okay."

"is this okay?" his brow furrows momentarily, "i don't want to make you feel-"

you lower a hand, fingertips brushing along the waistband of his sweats, "this is okay. i promise."

at your action, max's breath quickens, the driver finding it difficult to string the words together, "i-i just can't help myself around you. seeing you after my win today, looking so fucking beautiful in the rain. i couldn't fucking control myself."

"that kiss was very unlike you," a giggle rings through the space, "i almost thought i was dreaming."

"you weren't," the corners of his lips curl into a wide smile, dimples and all, "i was right there, kissing you, wishing i could just get down on one knee right then and there."

"m-max," you stammer, the temperature of the room almost skyrocketing, "y-you don't-"

"i do," his voice is firm, "i want to marry you. i knew i needed you, but seeing you there, just waiting for me, with that gorgeous grin across your face.. it made me realize that i wanted to see that smile for the rest of my life. we don't have to rush, but i want you to know what my intentions are.

i want you to be my wife, but i don't want you to feel like you have to abandon everything to be with me. i want you to still do what you love, and i want you to still make a difference in people's lives. just how you've made a difference in mine."

"i love you," your vision is blurred, your throat tight, "i-i love you so much m-max."

"my sensitive girl," he lets out a chuckle, carefully wiping away your tears, "i love my sensitive girl. more than she'll ever know."

"i'll be your wife one day."

"one day?" he cocks his head, "is that a yes?"

"yes," you affirm, "that is a yes."

"now this has truly been a day to remember."

"is that so?"

"yes," max responds. taking your hands, he raises them slightly, so that they're on either side of your head. intertwining your fingers together he continues, leaning in once more.

"i'm going to hold on to this memory for the rest of my life. i'm going to hold on to you for the rest of my life."

"there's nowhere else i would rather be," you whisper, "i mean that."

"oh i know," his mouth ghosts over yours, "you were so fucking ecstatic earlier. it was adorable."

"i was just happy for you," your lips form a pout, "you have to remember it's been a long time since i-"

he kisses you, this time a little more hungry than the last. as his tongue slips in, between your thighs, you feel your clit throb, desperate for his touch as he deepens the kiss, squeezing your hands. his hips grind against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

"m-max," you nearly moan, "please."

"what?" he coos, "what is it baby?"

"i need you," the words are breathy, "i really need you."

"don't worry baby," a hand begins to drift lower and lower, savoring your heated skin along your stomach and abdomen, "i'll make sure you're taken care of."

"p-please," your head rolls back as his thumb meets your clit, dragging in slow, circular motions.

for a second, he's thrown off his game, completely and utterly bewildered at the stickiness coating his index finger as he plunges a finger deep inside.

"y-you're this wet for me? i've barely fucking touched you."

"like you said earlier," you grit your teeth, fighting a whimper as another finger slides in, your walls adjusting, "you have no idea what you do to me."

at that statement, max's jaw tightens, the lust that was merely a few flames now burning throughout, threatening to consume him whole.

fuck, was he going to ruin you.

his fingers pull out, hooking the hem of your own sweats, "i need this off of you. now."

sitting up, you kick off your pants, fumbling with your tank top in the process. your nipples are almost swollen, hardened from the brisk air. between your thighs, he can catch the glisten of your slick cunt, aching for him and only him.

in that moment, max nearly comes undone.

"let me taste you," the words are nearly a beg, "please baby, let me get a taste."

you nod, almost a little too enthusiastically, "please do."

he situates himself so that he's between your legs, his hands roaming your soft skin, spreading you open. he lowers his head, hands cupping your breasts as his tongue flattens against your weeping cunt. the tip of his nose brushes against your clit, earning a groan from you.

at that, a guttural noise rumbles in his throat, his fingers now gripping your hips, pulling you closer and closer.

there was no word that could describe the way you tasted.

the only thing that came close was heaven.

sweet, sweet, heaven that coated his tongue.

your back arches as obscene, filthy noises flood the room, hands in max's hair, tugging at the locks as his mouth envelops your clit, sucking lightly.

"that's it pretty girl," the words are ragged as you squirm, his lips shining in the dim light, "that's it."

"m-max," there's a feeling pooling in your abdomen, a feeling you knew all too well, "p-please."

"what?" his mouth curls into a smug smirk, "what is it pretty girl? you wanna cum?"

"yes. please."

"well since you asked so nicely," you're wound up tight now, merely seconds away from release, "i'll make you cum."

his mouth reconnects with your clit, applying the right amount of pressure as it dances. you writhe beneath him, stars bursting in your vision as you cum, bliss crashing over you like a tidal wave.

he pulls back, his cock twitching in his sweats, begging to be set free as he admires the way your chest heaves, your thighs almost trembling, overstimulated from the orgasm.

he wants to go back for seconds, lapping away until you're crying, pleading, begging for him to stop. if only you didn't have your early flight in the morning, then he would eat your pussy for hours, going all throughout the night.

"good girl," sliding off his sweats, his jaw nearly goes slack as your hand wraps around the base, pumping slowly, "good fucking girl."

as you jerk him off, two dingers dip inside, ensuring that their soaked before pulling out.

"here," he murmurs, pushing the digits against your lips, prompting you to open your mouth, "taste yourself."

as you take them in, tongue swirling along their length, the sweetness lacing your tongue, a groan tumble from his mouth.

"oh fuck."

"you like?" batting your lashes, you can't help but feel a grin form as he nods fervently, one hand gripping the heard board while the other rests on his shaft.

"victory tastes sweet, but fuck you taste sweeter. there's nothing like the way you taste and i'm addicted."

"is that such a bad thing?"

you nearly choke on a gasp as he pushes into you, stretching you out as his hips roll. he bites on his lower lip, fighting a smirk as your head hits the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure fills you to the brim.

"not at all," he's plowing into you now, "it's not a bad thing at all."

addicted was not even the word that described the way max craved you.

it was a hunger.

a hunger that would only be satisfied by your perfect, tight cunt.

and god, was max was going to savor the way you felt. the way you wrapped around him, practically begging him to go even further and further.

if only he could stay here, entwined with you. if only he could feel like this, forever.

however, vegas was quickly approaching.

and after that, who knew what the future would bring.

but for now, he was going to relish this moment.

tonight, and perhaps for the rest of his life.

[pure-smut]

iron wall.

featuring: Takanobu Aone x f!reader

contains: some angst to fluff to smut, happy ending!!, tattoo artist!Aone, social anxiety!reader, thigh riding, fingering(ish), missionary, NOT an accurate representation of getting a tattoo (call it creative liberties)

word count: 3.7k

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

Masterlist

a/n: I'm sorry, I love Aone so much, he's so babygirl!! I'm a sucker for a gentle giant so I needed to get this story down I love him

You’re so excited for your first tattoo. So excited you could throw up, in fact. Oh wait, no, you’re terrified.

The tattoo studio does nothing to soothe your nerves. It’s a small space, seeming all the more cramped for artwork covering every inch of wall and shelf space. You try your hardest not to shrink into yourself.

And then your tattoo artist steps out and a year of social aversion therapy dwindles into nothing.

Takanobu Aone is one of the best artists in the country and you’ve been so, so lucky to get a spot with him. You researched hard, not trusting your first tattoo in the hands of anyone less than perfect. When you saw Aone’s portfolio online, you knew he was the one. Beautiful linework and sweeping designs that seemed to mould to the person’s body. You fell in love with his art.

But his portfolio didn’t have any pictures of him. So when he steps out and greets you with a silent nod, you nearly shrivel up on the spot.

Aone is scary. He’s tall, broad, and – unsurprisingly – coated in tattoos. A seemingly permanent frown is etched on his face, his ice blonde hair cut short. But it’s his eyes – it’s like he’s glaring at you.

“Sorry,” you squeak out before internally scolding yourself.

Sorry?? What are you apologising for? No one’s said anything yet!

If Aone’s confused, he doesn’t show it. He only gestures to an intimidating-looking chair, fitted with an overhead lamp.

Your hands shake so you clench them into fists. You can do this, you tell yourself. This was the whole point of your tattoo. On wobbly legs, you make your way over to the chair and sit down.

Aone looks down at you. You look back up at him. When neither of you says anything, he twirls his finger in the air.

“Oh!”

Idiot, you think to yourself. It’s a back tattoo – he needs to see my back.

You turn around, your chest pressed against the back of the chair, as Aone sits behind you. Even without seeing him, his presence is so large that you feel it. You take a shuddering breath as you hear the buzz of the needle and squeeze your eyes shut.

The tattoo hurts, like a relentless, stinging scratch against your skin. But honestly? You thought it would be worse. Still, the nerves haven’t dissipated yet, and nausea swirls in your stomach. Especially when you feel Aone’s hands on your skin, resting against your back as he works.

“You’re doing well.”

Aone’s voice is so sudden and unexpected that you nearly jump. It takes a second for you to register what he’s said but when you do, warmth rushes to your cheeks.

“Th-thanks,” you stammer out.

“Will music help you to relax?”

His voice is deep and smooth. You’re glad you’re facing away from him because you don’t want him to see the blush in your cheeks just from listening to him speak.

You tell him your favourite songs and he sets up a playlist. By the time he starts up the tattoo again, you are feeling more relaxed. It helps that you don’t need to look him in the face, that you don’t need to mould your reactions to what you think is right. Every so often, Aone will let you know how well you’re sitting for him and each time, it makes your body feel like it’s on fire.

By the time he’s finished, you’re nearly dizzy.

Aone must notice because he offers his hand to help you stand. You take it, gratefully, but keep your eyes averted, too embarrassed to look him in the face.

“First tattoos are hard,” he says solemnly and you’re glad he thinks it’s the tattoo that’s had an effect on you and not him.

Aone hands you his card as you pay up. It has a list of tattoo care instructions as well as his phone number and socials.

“Any problems, contact me,” he says.

You finally look up at him. What you had thought had been a glare before now looks completely different. Aone’s eyes are sharp but they’re kind, his face serious but concerned. Under the intensity of his gaze, you find it suddenly hard to breathe.

You want to thank him, to tell him you’ll be happy to contact him if anything comes up. To say anything normal at all.

But an iron wall wraps around your chest. You don’t want to say anything stupid or embarrassing. So you give a short nod and leave without saying anything at all.

*

It’s only a few days before your tattoo starts to itch. You diligently cream it as Aone’s card instructed you but the position of the tattoo means you can’t reach all of it. There’s a patch in the middle that’s neglected and so, so goddamn itchy.

After all the research, effort and money spent, you desperately don’t want your new tattoo to heal badly. But you have no one to ask for help. It’s your own fault, you know. You’ve spent the years since you left home for college isolating yourself from everyone. Too worried about saying the wrong thing or doing something embarrassing. Too concerned over whether people are laughing at you instead of with you.

And now you’re stuck with an itchy tattoo that you can’t fully reach.

Aone’s card sits innocently on your desk, almost taunting you. It takes another two days before you gather up the courage to tap out a message to Aone.

He responds within minutes with instructions to come to the studio.

That’s how you end up back in the chair, your favourite songs playing again, too embarrassed to look behind you at Aone.

“The itch is worse than the pain,” he says, rubbing cool, soothing cream gently over your tattoo.

Despite yourself, you smile. Maybe it’s your favourite music in the background, maybe it’s the fact you don’t need to look at him. Maybe it’s the feel of his gloved fingers being so gentle on your skin. For once, you don’t overthink before you speak.

“The pain wasn’t so bad after a while,” you say quietly. “But the itching goes on forever.”

Aone chuckles. It catches you off guard – you wonder what he looks like when he’s smiling.

You sit in comfortable silence for a while.

“This is so embarrassing…” you mumble to yourself.

“What is?”

You startle, not realising he heard you. Your cheeks burn.

“O-oh… just… y’know, all of this,” you say clumsily.

“All of what?”

“I-” A lump appears in your throat. You realise how stupid you sound. “I can’t reach my tattoo.”

A puff of air escapes Aone’s nose.

“Not embarrassing,” he says. “I fainted during my first tattoo. That is embarrassing.”

The image of Aone – broad, muscled, serious-faced Aone – fainting during a tattoo is so unexpected you snort with laughter.

“You didn’t!”

“I did,” he says gravely. “I was too nervous to eat breakfast so my blood sugar was low.”

Aone withdraws his hands to lean in close. You can feel the warmth radiating off him on the back of your neck and shoulder. When he speaks, his breath tickles your cheek.

“They had to give me a lollipop.”

You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth. Aone chuckles and stands, snapping his gloves off. You rise with him, still giggling, and get a glimpse of his smile for the first time.

It’s small, just an uptick at the corner of his mouth, but you can’t stop looking.

“Next time you feel embarrassed, remember the lollipop,” Aone says with a firm nod.

You grin, meeting his eyes. Inside you, a small chip skitters down the iron wall.

A crack.

*

Aone tells you to come back every day at the same time for a week, until your tattoo heals. You find yourself looking forward to it and you end up chatting long after he’s finishing creaming your back. You wonder if this is it – you’ve beaten the insecure demon inside your head.

Until one day you don’t.

It’s the last day you’re scheduled to visit Aone’s studio. Maybe that’s the reason why a stab of icy fear lodges itself in your heart every time you try and open the door to leave.

You stand at your front door, key in the lock, but your hand is frozen. Your breathing turns ragged and your vision swims. You can’t turn the key. You can’t leave your home. Your sanctuary. The only safe space you know.

Except Aone’s studio.

Except Aone.

You know you’re going to be late but still, you can’t bring yourself to leave. With shaking hands, you message Aone, apologising and saying you won’t make it. He messages back instantly.

Are you okay?

You don’t know what prompts you to respond honestly. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from fighting the anxiety in your head. Maybe it’s because Aone has always been sincere with you. Maybe it’s because you don’t have to look at him when you respond.

Maybe the iron wall is breaking.

No, you type back.

He asks for your address, saying he’ll come to you. After chewing your thumbnail down to the quick, you give it and throw your phone onto the other side of the bed.

You barely have the energy to drag yourself from your bed when the doorbell rings. You know you should feel embarrassed opening the door in your pyjamas, hair unbrushed and eyes puffy with no sleep. But when Aone steps in, face serious, and pulls out a lollipop, the only thing you feel is relief.

You burst into tears as Aone pulls you into his arms, pressing you against his chest. He’s firm and warm and holds you tight. He doesn’t say anything. He lets you soak the front of his shirt with your tears.

When you’ve cried yourself dry, your sobs dwindling into sniffles, Aone pulls back to peer down at you.

“Food?”

You spend the day with takeout, watching movies together on your laptop in bed. You sneak glances at him every so often, admiring his profile, and have to quickly look away every time he notices. It should be embarrassing… but you know he’s looking at you too. You can feel his intense gaze when you’re watching the movie, can feel him watching you when you get up to go to the bathroom.

When you return, instead of lying side-by-side, you turn your back to him, pulling the laptop in front of you. Aone turns to spoon you, wrapping one large arm around your stomach. You melt into him, immediately relaxed.

It reminds you of being in his chair, faced away from him but knowing he’s there.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, your voice nearly drowned out by the movie. “I know I get too nervous and say weird stuff.”

“What weird stuff?” You can’t see him but you can hear the frown in his voice.

“Like…” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Like when I first met you, I didn’t even say hi. I said sorry, for some weird reason.”

Your mouth goes dry as you recall your first embarrassing memory with Aone. The one that still keeps you up at night as you replay it, thinking about how awkward you looked and how weird he must think you are.

“That wasn’t weird,” Aone says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “People think I’m scary. They don’t sit next to me on the train and they apologise when they meet me.”

You blink at the laptop, twisting slightly so you can look at Aone. He looks back at you.

“They do?”

He nods.

“You’re not weird. You’re normal.”

Aone says it with absolute sincerity. You think on this for a moment before fully turning, facing him. Aone settles his hand on your waist, his sharp eyes locked on yours.

You’re normal.

A rush of relief floods through you and your eyes water, nearly bursting into tears again. Aone notices because he tightens his grip on you, his hand on standby to brush away any tears.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him. “I’m okay.”

And it’s true. It’s the most okay you’ve felt in a long time. A flood of affection clouds your mind and you look up at him to smile.

“Thank you for rescuing me today,” you tell him.

“Always,” Aone says seriously.

It’s only one word but it steals your breath. You feel like you’re falling. You grip onto the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself.

One word and your iron wall crumbles.

You tilt your head up until Aone’s face is only inches from yours. You’re offering yourself up, offering your heart on a platter, open and vulnerable. You close your eyes and wait, blood rushing in your ears.

Aone moves his hand up from your waist to cup your face. His skin is hot against yours and you can feel his heart beating through his chest.

“Always,” he whispers once more before he closes the gap between you.

Aone presses his lips softly against yours. Your hands snake around his torso, feeling the hard muscle of his back. His lips part yours gently, cautiously, wary not to pressure you too much. You let him, meeting his tongue with your own and melting into him.

Aone uses one arm to wrap around your back, pulling your body flush to him as his other hand grips your thigh. He tugs your leg over his, nestling his thick thigh between your legs, and pressing against your mound. You gasp lightly into his mouth.

Aone pulls back, eyes opening.

“Is this okay?” he asks, searching your face for any sign you’re uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “It’s… it feels good.”

You try hard not to grind against his thigh but when he leans down to kiss you again, you find your hips moving on their own. His firm muscle pressed against your clothed pussy makes your clit throb with need. You haven’t felt this turned on by anyone in a long time, your sex drive long since evaporated. But Aone is awakening something inside you, a heat in your stomach unfurling.

You hold onto his shoulder, solid as a rock, and grind against his thigh.

Aone trails his hand down to your hip, his grip gentle but firm.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs against your lips, reluctant to break the kiss.

“Mhmm.” You catch his bottom lip lightly between your teeth. “I’m sure.”

Aone hardens his grip on your hip, guiding you as you rub your clothed pussy against his thigh. The friction is delicious, sending little sparks up through your body and soaking the crotch of your panties and pyjama shorts. You’re forced to break the kiss to bury your face in his chest, whimpering.

He’s bringing you close to the edge, so, so close. But it’s not enough.

“More,” you practically beg him. “I need more. Please.”

Aone grunts and rolls you onto your back, slotting himself between your legs. He’s large enough that you’re spread lewdly beneath him, thighs open. It would normally make you flustered – embarrassed – but it doesn’t.

Because it’s okay. It’s Aone.

He looks at your with stars in his eyes as his hand reaches down, sliding under the waistband of your shorts and panties. Your hips buck as his fingers find your swollen clit, slippery with your arousal. He traces small, featherlight touches around your sensitive bud. Aone knows his own strength and he’s always cautious of being too rough. He watches your face carefully to see your reaction, applying slightly more pressure until your nails sink into his biceps.

“There!” you gasp. “Fuck, right there. I’m so close.”

Aone listens, his cock straining against his jeans. You would normally feel your cheeks burn under the intensity of anyone’s gaze, let alone Aone’s, but you’re too caught up in the pleasure he’s giving you to care. His fingers are relentless, keeping up a steady pace, no faster or slower than exactly what you need.

When your back arches and your mouth falls open, Aone dips his head to swallow your moan, kissing you deeply through your orgasm, his fingers never stopping. It’s only when you pull away, too sensitive to continue, that he withdraws his hand.

But he can’t stop kissing you. Your soft lips and the taste of the lollipop he brought you still on your tongue. Aone knows you’ve opened yourself to him, he knows you’ve summoned every ounce of courage you have. He feels like he has a baby bird in his hands and he’s scared to hold you too tight. To crush the precious thing you’ve given him.

So when you come down from your high, he makes to roll off you, not thinking of himself or his throbbing cock.

You stop him, hands on his biceps and wrapping your legs around his hips.

“I want you,” you whisper, voice hoarse from moaning. “All of you.”

Aone searches your face for any uncertainty. He only sees your eyes alight, holding his gaze firmly. He thinks back to your first arrival in his studio, when he couldn’t even tell what your face really looked like, you kept your eyes so averted. The corner of his mouth upticks with pride.

You reach up to wrap one hand around the nape of his neck, carding your fingers through his short, white-blonde hair as your other hand reaches down to his jeans. He helps you unbutton them, tugging them down along with his boxers and throwing them both off the side of the bed. Aone straightens to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. Tattoos decorate his thick torso, artwork following the curves and dips of his body. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, not even hiding how absolutely, completely attracted to him you are.

Aone’s expression doesn’t change much but his eyes glint and you know he’s pleased by your reaction. He reaches down, hooking his thumbs under the hem of your pyjama top and tugging it off. He gazes down at you, face soft, his eyes tracing over your body.

You’d normally be fighting the urge to cover yourself but you don’t feel the need to do that with Aone. You want him to look at you.

Aone leans down to pepper soft kisses down your neck, to your breasts. One large hand massages your tit, tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It’s like your nipple is directly connected to your clit, making it throb with every touch. Aone sucks your other nipple, mouth hot against your skin as his teeth lightly graze you. It’s electrifying. You can feel yourself getting wetter, a scorching heat between your legs.

You need him inside you.

You tug on the roots of his hair gently, pulling his face back up to yours. Aone kisses you deep and slow, one hand reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance. You can feel the fat mushroom tip nudging between your folds. You pull your knees up, wrapping your legs around his hips to give him better access.

Aone pulls back from the kiss. You chase his lips with your own but he cups your cheek, holding you away.

“I want to see your face,” he says.

 He locks eyes with you and pushes himself inside.

Your mouth falls open and your brows scrunch in the middle as Aone slides his cock into your tight hole. You’re more than wet enough for him but his cock is as thick as the rest of him, stretching you with a burn that’s half pleasure, half pain. You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as Aone shallowly pumps himself inside you, going a little deeper each time. Each stroke of his cock sets your nerves on fire, sparks running through your whole body to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“Holy shit,” you grit out. “You’re – ah! – You’re so b-big.”

“Are you okay?” Aone stops still. “Are you in pain?”

You shake your head, wrapping your legs tighter around him.

“Don’t stop,” you beg him.

He gives a short nod and keeps going, slowly working himself deeper until he’s bottomed out. Aone waits there for a while, letting you adjust to the size of him. You’re desperate for more friction, your pussy clenching him tight.

“You…” He collapses onto his forearms, burying his face in your neck.

His hand tangles in your hair at the back of your head, holding you to him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes. “You’re doing so well.”

Aone’s praise sends a thrill up your spine, so reminiscent of the first time you met. He presses his mouth against the shell of your ear.

“I’m going to move, okay?” His voice is hoarse.

You nod and he starts to pull back, keeping his body pressed against yours. It should feel smothering, his large body covering yours, but instead it feels safe. Secure.

Aone keeps a steady pace, not pulling out all the way before thrusting back into you. Your greedy pussy pulling him back in every time, your plush walls squeezing him, not wanting to let him go. His cock rubs against the sensitive spot inside you, the trimmed hair at the base stroking delicious friction against your clit. The combination is indescribable. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to roll back again, your orgasm building faster than you can register.

Aone can feel it. The way your tight pussy gets even tighter, the whimpers you make from the back of your throat, the way your thighs squeeze his hips. He can’t get enough of it. He wants to last as long as possible so he can stay here forever. Stay with you, like this, forever. But the way you’re gripping him, milking his cock, makes it impossible.

“I’m gonna cum, angel,” he groans. “Cum with me.”

His words are enough to tip you over the edge. Stars burst behind your eyes. You cry out his name as your thighs tremble and your toes curl, creaming on his cock. Aone grunts, half-moaning, as buries his cock inside you, thick ropes of cum coating your walls.

You hold him close, not wanting him to leave even as his cock softens inside you. Aone stays where he is, wanting to prolong this moment as long as he can. He presses gentle kisses against your neck, hugging you close to him.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Thank you.”

You smile and catch his lips with your own.

“Always,” you whisper back.

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[dancingbirdie]

Your writing is so good! How about a hurt/comfort where a little bit of time after Cazador's defeat, Tav/reader wakes up screaming Astarion's name bc they had a nightmare that Cazador had managed to take Astarion back. They wake up in terror and practically clings to Astarion

Thanks so much for this writing prompt, anon! I hope you enjoy.

PLEASE take note of the warning tags for this one. The nightmare is pretty violent stuff.

Love in the Time of Nightmares

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Tav

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Descriptions of physical abuse and mental abuse, torture, blood/bruises/lacerations, fluff and angst.

Consciousness clawed its way through Tav’s body, scraping against their fractured ribs, digging into the bruises that bloomed across their arms and legs like some twisted watercolor masterpiece. Tav groaned as they came to, eyes straining to make sense of their surroundings. 

Wherever they were, it was in near-total darkness. And it reeked of putrefaction. The air was saturated with fetid moisture. It felt like a rotting cloth had been placed over their mouth and nose. Where in the sweet hells were they?

As other senses slowly came online, Tav realized they were lying on their side, curled into a fetal position. A manacle ensnared one ankle, the cold metal biting into their skin. The floor on which they were lying was made of coarse stone. The grit of it snagged against their skin and clothes.

A whimper from somewhere nearby refocused their attention.

In front of them, Tav could barely make out the ghostly pale form of Astarion, half-naked, hunched over his knees on the damp floor. His hands were shackled to a bolt fastened into the stone. His wrists were cut and bleeding from an obvious attempt to slip through the cuffs. He was bruised and battered across his abdomen. And his back. 

Oh, his back. 

Tav released an anguished cry as their eyes beheld Astarion’s back. The infernal script had been cut into anew. The lacerations wept openly, forming rivulets down his spine. 

“Astarion–” Tav croaked, attempting to draw his attention. 

A voice from further ahead interrupted them. 

“Did you honestly believe you could ever escape me, boy?” Cazador’s snakelike hiss reverberated throughout the cavernous dungeon. 

At that voice, that hideous voice, Tav watched, helpless, as shivers wracked Astarion’s body. He began openly weeping, his head bowing over his shackled hands. 

The bobbing light of a torch appeared through the gloom moments later, revealing the vile form of his former master. Cazador sauntered forward, closing in on Astarion. His gait was as casual as any nobleman enjoying a springtime promenade. Bile wrenched itself up through Tav’s throat, searing their esophagus along the way.

They watched as Cazador knelt before Astarion. He began petting his silver curls, tutting softly. It was a profane mimicry of comfort. Sobs only wracked Astarion’s body more violently. 

The sight enraged Tav. Righteous anger surged through them. They smacked the floor, hard,  with the edge of their fist, drawing Cazador’s attention. 

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HIM,” Tav screamed, vocal cords straining. They lurched forward to grab at the horrible creature but were halted abruptly by the chain pulled taut against their ankle. 

Cazador gave a mirthless laugh, rising to full height and acknowledging Tav for the first time. 

“You foolish child,” he spat. “You dare presume to command me? Astarion is mine. Mine to punish. To destroy. To do with as I wish.”

“NO. We destroyed you. You don’t own him anymore!” Tav cried, wrenching at the manacle once more. 

Cazador threw his head back with a barking laugh. In the corner of their eye, Tav noted how the sound caused Astarion to shrink further into himself. The sight eviscerated their heart. To see their lover beaten down so low. 

“I will always own him,” Cazador insisted. “My newest spellwork will see to that.”

With a snap of his fingers, the chains shackling Astarion’s wrists released from the bolt on the floor and flew into Cazador’s waiting hand. He jerked them violently, causing Astarion to lurch forward with a cry, barely catching himself from landing face first on the stones. Another tug, and Astarion was half-crawling, half-dragging behind Cazador as the slavemaster made his way back through the darkness of the dungeon. 

“NO! DON’T TAKE HIM! PLEASE!” Tav screamed, eyes tracking Astarion’s form as he disappeared into the gloom. They kicked against the shackle, ripping their skin to shreds. 

“ASTARION! ASTARION–”

The next thing they knew, strong arms were banding around their waist. Firm. Solid. 

Tav’s eyes fluttered open, taking in their surroundings with a feral sort of awareness. Their heart hammered in their chest. Their lungs heaved with the effort to take in more air. 

“Shhh, darling. It’s all right. It’s all right,” Astarion’s low, melodic voice soothed in their ear. His chest was pressed against their back, spooning them. Tav felt his legs intertwine with theirs, drawing them even closer. 

Tav clutched at his hands as their attention darted around the room. They were in their bedroom, in the bed they shared with Astarion. In their home in the Underdark. 

There was the glow worm terrarium on their night stand. They had fashioned it as a sort of night light, even if it was always “night” here. It limned the room with a gentle bluish hue. And farther away, there was the dresser they both shared, hewn from driftwood Tav had collected above ground. Their collection of paintings - sunrises, mostly - hung scattered about the four walls. The woody smell of incense drifted to their nose, bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity. 

They were home. Astarion was safe. He was here. They were safe. Astarion was safe.

But the mantra couldn’t stop the tears from spilling. The nightmare had felt so very real. It had attacked every one of their senses. They still felt like they could smell the rotten mugginess of the dungeon if they concentrated hard enough. 

“I’m sorry,” Tav sobbed, turning their face into their pillow to muffle their crying. “I didn’t mean to– to–”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my love,” Astarion whispered, clutching them tighter around the waist. “You were dreaming. It was just a dream,” he murmured, over and over again, kissing their shoulders and neck in between the words.  

“I thought you’d been taken again – that… that he had taken you,” they keened, eyes clenched shut. 

“Never, darling. He’s dead. Long gone. And I’m right here. Right here with you,” Astarion affirmed. But Tav continued to cry. Heartbreaking sounds emanated from their muffled form. 

“Here, turn over and face me,” he urged softly, unable to bear their anguish a moment longer. 

Slowly, he moved Tav so that they were lying face to face in the bed, their noses nearly touching. Astarion lifted a hand to cradle their cheek. The other hand slipped over the dip of their waist. He began rubbing soothing circles against their back. 

“See, darling? I’m right here,” he smiled gently, meeting their teary gaze. 

Tav nodded mutely, eyes never leaving his. Slowly, they raised a hand to trace their fingers across his brow. Down the line of his nose. Over his cheekbones. Around his lips. Across his jaw. They watched as Astarion closed his eyes, soaking in their touch. He allowed them to continue their ministrations, doing what they needed to in order to feel assured. 

“It was a dream,” Tav finally whispered after a few moments of tracing Astarion’s features. Their words sounded more like a question than a declaration. 

“It was only a dream,” he swore seriously, moving his hand to cradle the back of their head. He planted a chaste kiss against their forehead. 

Tav bowed their head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent of bergamot and clove. 

“I love you,” they whispered faintly against his neck, feeling utterly spent from the emotional response the nightmare had created. 

“I love you,” Astarion returned. He continued to rub their back, tracing idle circles against their nightshirt. 

“Can you tell me a story?” Tav asked, breaking the comforting silence of the room.

“About what, darling?” Astarion replied.

“Anything. Tell me about the last book you read. Or the plans we’re developing for that commune, to rehome all the spawn.”

“Very well,” he agreed, kissing their forehead again. He began describing, in elaborate detail, every room of the commune they were working to build for all of Cazador’s formerly imprisoned spawn. He provided Tav a verbal tour of all of his plans, his ideas for each of the common spaces, his intended partnership with the Myconid colony to cultivate a community garden. On and on he went, pouring out every iota of his ideas – even the ones that were still half-formed imaginations. 

His eloquent cadence slowly led Tav back into drowsiness. He listened as their breathing became slower, more even. Finally, sure that they were well and truly asleep once more, he quieted. He took in the peacefulness of their bedroom. Observed his partner sleeping in his arms once more. 

It had been three years since Baldur’s Gate. The nightmares still came frequently for both of them. Most of the time, it was he who woke in the middle of the night, needing comfort and assurances from Tav. Other times, like tonight, it was Tav. Astarion wasn’t sure either of their mental scars would ever truly disappear, no matter how long time marched on. 

But the life they had carved out for themselves was a beautiful one. Full of life. Full of love. And full of belonging. Try as they might, that was something the nightmares would never, ever, take from them.

[thrillered]

"You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnew X Reader | Pt. 11

Part 11: Apologies

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The entire day had gone by and still no word from Spencer. You knew he had to have seen it, and knowing him as well as you do, you knew he listened to the song. You just hoped it was enough. 

While the Spencer situation wasn’t necessarily going well, online was sparking with excitement about Birds of a feather. The hashtag had been trending all day and you once again were in a bright spotlight on the public stage. You had received texts and calls from friends congratulating you on your second successful song in such a short amount of time. Everytime your phone buzzed or rang your heart skipped a beat, hoping you would see your favorite contact pop up, but it never did. 

Feeling defeated, you decided to go for a drive to clear your head. You didn’t have a destination in mind, allowing yourself to think about nothing but the road in front of you. Before you knew it you had somehow ended up at your ramen place. You’d never gone alone, this was an experience you only shared with Spencer. You decided that since you were already there you would stop in and get food. 

You walked in, immediately becoming emotional at the comforting scent of broth and spices. Mrs. Ito greeted you, walking with you to one of the small booths. 

“The usual?” She asked, smiling at you. 

“Actually, I’m getting something different today,” You said. You went on to recite Spencer’s go-to order, hoping it would make you feel a little closer to him. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Mr. Ito asked, joining his wife's side as he placed a glass of water down on your table. 

“He’s, uh, he’s not my boyfriend,” You finally explained, sadly. “And he’s not coming today, it’s just me.” The words hurt to say. It felt wrong doing this without Spencer but you were already here and thought this might be good for you. 

You scrolled on twitter as you waited for your food, liking different tweets about you and smosh. It didn’t take long for your food to come out, you politely thanked Mr. Ito as he set the steaming bowl in front of you. 

Soon after the door opened again, the small bell chiming as the door swung inside. You glanced up towards the door, shocked to see Spencer of all people, shrugging off his light jacket. 

“Ah Spencer! Welcome!” Mrs. Ito greeted warmly. It didn’t take long for Spencer to notice you. You looked away as soon as he looked at you, feeling an intense pressure under his gaze. 

“Oh, hey.” He said, walking the small distance to your table. 

“Hi.” 

“Is… Is that my ramen order?” He asked, recognizing the toppings and smell of the broth. 

“What? No.” You replied quickly, “Okay, yeah it is.” you admitted. 

“Can I sit?” Spencer asked, a flattered smile gracing his face. 

“Of course.” 

You sat quietly for a moment, moving the noodles around in your bowl as you avoided eye contact. 

“So…” Spencer began, “I thought it was our unspoken rule to not go here without the other.” 

“Well, technically i'm not anymore” You said, gesturing to him.

“Touche.” 

“So…” You mirrored. Another silence permeating the space. “I’m sorry.” You said quietly, shrinking into yourself. 

“Okay.” Spencer returned. 

“I was so scared, Spence. I am so scared.” You continued, the words falling out of your mouth without much thought. 

“Why? Do I scare you?” He asked.

“No! What? No. I-” You sighed, shaking your head, trying to figure out what you wanted to say. “I’ve spent the last years becoming okay with just being your friend. I’ve been totally in love with you for… well for forever. And when you told me you lov-” You stopped yourself, afraid to say it. “When you told me what you told me I realized everything was gonna change and that was so scary. I shouldn’t have left. I know that. But I woke up to your warmth, your smell, your soul, all next to me and my fight or flight kicked in I guess.” 

You weren’t sure you were making any sense. You hadn’t looked up from your soup, scared to face whatever emotion Spencer was feeling. “And when I got home I called Amanda and she helped me calm down and then I talked to Shayne at work and when I tried to talk to you, you ignored me, probably rightfully so.” you explained, wanting to be honest with Spencer as much as you could. “And if you never want to see me again I get it because I have been so unfair to you.” 

For the third time since Spencer sat down there were no words. Just the sounds of the traffic outside and the muffled conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Ito from the kitchen. 

“I would never, not wanna see you again Y/N.” Spencer expressed. “I gotta keep you around. Birds of a feather, right?” 

Your eyes shot to his, a small smile playing at his lips. “You heard?” 

“I couldn’t stop listening to it.” He admitted, blushing a little. “I forgive you Y/N.” He stated, knowing you wouldn’t believe him if he didn't say it explicitly. “I wasn’t the most fair to you either.”

“Truce?” You asked.

“Truce.” He agreed. 

—

Spencer came back to your apartment with you, taking both of your food to go. You sat on the couch together, playing your third grand prix of mario kart, making each other laugh as you joked through each race. You paused as the last game ended, Spencer coming in 2nd and you in 3rd (a computer Waluigi beating both of you).

You turned to him, leaning your head on the couch to face him. “Will you spend the night?” You asked. “I can’t really run away this time.” 

“You thought I was going to leave?” He asked, pulling you closer to him and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

“I was just making sure.” You smiled, leaning into his side.

You stayed that way for a while, just enjoying each other's company after the few days without it. You looked up at Spencer, admiring him. 

“What? There something on my face?” Spencer asked, noticing your gaze. 

“Yeah actually, let me get it for you,” You said, sitting up, brushing your thumb across the corner of his mouth before kissing him. 

“That was the corniest shit ever, you literally just babygirlified me.” He joked.

“I mean I can stop.” You shrugged, scooting away from him jokingly. 

“No you don’t” He replied quickly, grabbing your waist and pulling you back to him, catching your lips with his. You sighed into the kiss, feeling incredibly grateful you made up. You let out a squeal as he pinched your sides, hoisting you onto his lap and deepening the kiss. 

Unlike the first time, this kiss wasn’t so slow. It was full of passion, the pent up frustration from being apart manifesting itself through wandering hands and clashing teeth. 

Spencer broke the kiss for air, “Never leave me again.” He pleaded through heaving breaths. 

“Birds of a feather, right?” You mirrored his words from hours ago, making eye contact before connecting your lips again.

[sturniozo]

Savage Love Part Ten

Matt Sturniolo x reader Mafia AU

masterlist

“What happened at work, dollface?” He asked me.

“I… I kinda… got fired.” I mumble.

“Why?” He asks as his hand caresses my cheek.

“There was something my editor wanted me to do and I told him I couldn’t and-“

“Did he try to sleep with you?” Matt asks sternly. “I swear to god I’ll-“

“What? No it was an article I didn’t want to do.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want to do the article and he said without that article I contribute nothing of substance to the paper so he fired me…”

Matt kisses my forehead and wraps his arms around me. “What was the piece about?” He asks as he nuzzles his face against my hair.

I bite my lip. I can’t tell him the article was about him, he’d think our whole relationship is a lie. “He wanted me to do an exposure piece. I just don’t feel comfortable ruining people for no good reason. I think there’s a difference between exposing actual bad people and just plain outing people’s personal lives.”

Matt kisses my head once again. “I bet you were the best writer they had. That papers gonna go to shit now. No one will read it anymore.”

I laugh softly and cuddle closer to him. “My pieces barely made it into that paper anyways.”

“I’ll find you a better paper to work at, okay babydoll?”

“You don’t need to find me a job Matt, I can do that myself.”

“I’d rather you have a job you can work from home from though, that way I can keep an eye on you.”

“Matt, no offense, but that was creepy.” I turn to him and laugh softly. My smile fades when I see the serious look on Matt’s face.

“I’d just prefer it if I knew where you were and that you were safe.” Matt shrugs and kisses my temple again. “I have some things to take care of here in a bit baby, so I’m gonna order you some lunch.”

“What do you have to take care of?” I ask. I bite my lip as I realize I don’t need to ask these questions for my job anymore. I just want to know him.

Matt sighs. “There’s a shipment coming in from Italy and I need to make sure they brought everything I paid for so that I can distribute it to my consumers.”

I blink. “What’s the shipment of?”

Matt shakes his head. “I’m sorry dollface but that’s need to know.” He kisses my head. “Let’s order you food now.” He pulls out his phone to order food online.

“It’ll be here soon. I have to go babydoll, I have to be at the airport in an hour.” Matt gets up from the couch. “Make sure you eat. And feel free to explore and look around. You’re gonna be here for a little while you might as well get used to the place.” Matt gives me a quick kiss on the lips before leaving.

I sit on the couch for a minute pondering what to do. I hear Matt’s car leave and I shrink back against the couch. It feels so uncomfortable to be alone is his big home. I look around the living room. Behind the couch is one of multiple pool tables in the house, and near the corner of the room is a poker table.

The tv is huge, like one from a theater. It sits above a beautiful mantel that looks like hand chiseled stone. The beautiful creation had carved roses and thorn filled vines that line the edges.

I must have been admiring the mantel for a long time since I hear the doorbell ring. It catches me off guard and I flinch and my leg slips off the couch.

I get up and head towards the front door. I open it to see a delivery man holding a bag.

“Delivery for Sturniolo?” He says and I nod. He hands me the bag and the receipt before turning around and leaving without a word.

I close the door and go to the dining room to set the bag of food down in the table. The interaction itself was weird, not like any one I’ve had with a delivery man. I look at the receipt to see what Matt had ordered and see the special instruction.

‘Don’t mess with the girl.’

I roll my eyes and set the receipt down on the table.

After eating a bit of the lunch I decided to walk around. I’m mostly curious what I could find. Even though I’m not on the piece about him anymore I’m still interested to know if he really is the Mafia boss or if this is all just misconstrued information.

I walk up the stairs and through the hallway. Most of the doors have been locked, the only one I’m able to get into is Matt’s bedroom. So I start there.

I have already seen most there is to see in Matt’s bedroom. But the door that leads to his office is still unseen by my eyes. I turn the knob, a little surprised it isn’t locked. I open the door just a bit and bite my lip.

Should I be doing this? Would Matt know? I swallow the saliva building up in my mouth from nerves and I enter the office. I turn in the light to see everything, but there’s almost nothing to see. Just a desk and a seat. There’s no papers or a computer, do extra storage drawers, no decorations of any kind. Just a desk and a chair.

The desk and chair looks like the ones you’d think your rich uncle would have. Beautiful maroon wood desk and a matching color leather desk chair.

I go to close the door when something catches my eye. Something under the desk. I walk closer and look under the desk and pick up the small metal key. I look around for a lock of some sort, something that the key must open.

Why would this be in the floor? I look through the drawers of the desk, all of them empty, except when I get to the bottom one. I open it and a gun slides around the drawer from the force of me opening it. I gasp slightly and immediately close the drawer.

I stand up and look around. Where did the key go? And where did it come from? There’s no way he just left it on the floor, is there? And why would he have an empty office with nothing but a gun?

Maybe Emma was right, I was being naive, and I shouldn’t have trusted Matt. Things do add up to him being in the Mafia.

But that’s not how you gather information, you can’t start with your conclusion and work backwards to prove it. No, I need proof of it.

But I don’t need proof anymore. I keep forgetting I stopped with that piece. I turn around and look over the walls. I trace my fingers over the wallpaper until I feel a dent in the wall covered by the wallpaper.

I take a breath. I can’t cut through the paper, Matt will notice and know I snooped. I bite my lip and trace along the dent, just to get an idea of how big the dent it.

I trace it up above my head and then back down to the floor. It seemed to be the outline of a door. Maybe that’s what the key unlocked?

But why would the key be on the floor? And why would the door be covered with the wallpaper? I shake my head. I shouldn’t do this. I set the key back down under the desk where I found it and leave the office, shutting the light off behind me.

I sit on the bed still unsure what to do. After a moment of thinking I walk out of his bedroom and walk along the hallway to where his office wall would be. I go to open a door that should lead to the room next to his office, but it’s locked.

I immediately go back through his bedroom and to his office, grabbing the key and going back out to the door. I take a deep breath before I slip the key into the lock.

I turn the key and the lock click. I turn the knob and open the door. The room is dark so I reach around the wall feeling for a light switch. When I finally find it I flick it on, and gasp at what I see.

I quickly close the door behind me and run down the hall and down the stairs. I rush to the front door and open it, just in time to see a car pull up. My breath hitches and I shut the door, hoping whoever it was didn’t see me.

I go back to the living room but remember how I left the room. I quickly go back up the stairs and go back to the room, shut off the light, then close and lock the door. I run to put the key back under his desk where I found it. By the time I’m leaving Matt’s bedroom I hear the front door open.

From upstairs I can hear the sound of two guys talking to each other, sounding like they’re bickering. My feet stay planted in place in Matt’s bedroom, unable to move.

Neither voice sounds like Matt’s which makes my heart race in my chest. I swallow the saliva building up in my mouth and slowly creep tears the door of the bedroom. I hear the guys make their way up the stairs and I see their faces.

They look just like Matt. Then I remember Matt telling me he was a triplet and lived with his brothers when we were on a date once.

I step backwards and the floor creaks. The guys stop talking and I stand paralyzed in fear. Do they know I’m here? Did Matt tell them anything?

My questions are answered when I hear one of them say “I bet it’s that girl Matt’s been with.” And then the footsteps get closer to the door. I sit down on the bed, now unable to stand as the anxiety builds up inside me. The door opens and I see the two guys fully.

They really do look almost just like Matt. I stare up at them and my heart races. “Matt said you’d be here.” One of them says. “I’m Chris, this is Nick,” he nods his head towards the other guy “we’re Matt’s brothers. You must be y/n then?”

I nod slowly.

“Matt’s told us about you. He said you’re staying here while he has your place checked for- ow!”

Nick interrupts Chris by kicking his leg. “Dude,” Nick motions to me. He mouths something to Chris and Chris seems to have a moment of realization.

“Just make yourself at home and… Nick and I will be in the living room if you need anything.” Chris says before leaving.

I let out a breath and stare at the ground. How am I supposed to leave with those two here? And how am I supposed to stay after what was in that room?

Tags: @stargirlsturniololover @sturniolobessed @eyelessdemon00 @sturnioloenthusiast @sturniolopookie @urmommysbathroom @qwertytit @whatever1021 @chrisfavoritepepsi @stramboli4life @sturniolosreads @timmyscomputer @iloveneilperry @chrisloyalgf @xxsadlovexx @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @nickmillersn1gf

[reeeooohhheehee]

Thumbelina

tags : obey me x gn ! mc , scenario , satan x gn!mc , beelzebub x gn!mc , belphagor x gn!mc , barbatos x gn!mc , solomon x gn!mc , obey me mc harem , sfw

(BEEL AND BELPHIE’S PART IS CONNECTED)

wherein they accidentally turned you into a thumbelina. (oopsies)

SATAN:

He was shook when he saw you on the table. You were staring back up at him. You and he were working on a small project for a class in RAD and the potion you were making spilled onto you. Satan furiously flipped through the pages, having to turn you back to normal before Lucifer gets his hands on him.

“I’m sorry.” he said, smiling anxiously.

“I’m gonna shove my foot down your throat when I turn back.”

BEEL:

Beel wanted you to try eating a new dish that he found online! He didn’t really read the ingredients wherein one of them could shrink a human into a tiny little atom. The moment you laid your head on your bed and from the moment you woke up, you saw the world how a cockroach or a fae would.

Once Beel came inside your room, he tried looking for you up and down. He thought you were with Belphie so he ran up to the attic.

BELPHIE:

Belphie had your tiny body in his palm, blinking. “I could fold my hands and watch you die like this.” he said, smiling as he looked at you. You tried to scurry away only to be stopped by his thumb. “Oh chillax, I’m not gonna do that. Lucifer’s gonna have my head hung outside of the house if I do that.” Beel rushed into the attic, looking at you. “Oh Diavolo, I’m so sorry Mc! Please forgive me, I didn’t know what the food contained.”

Let’s just say before Beel bought anything new for you and him to try, he’d first read all the ingredients.

BARBATOS:

You had a few things to buy in the Human Realm and you asked him to accompany you. Barbatos agreed, no hesitations asked, and held your hand as he went through the portal. But when you guys came out, he was nervous as he held you in his palm.

Apparently, the portal had… a teeny flaw and made you small. “Oh my.. I am so sorry, Mc. Please forgive me.”

“You’re paying for my things.”

SOLOMON:

Solomon decided to laugh at you. He asked you to be the test subject for an experiment he conducted. You were the size of half a pencil because of it. “Stop laughing you shady wizard! Is there a solution?” you ask as he flipped through the pages of his potions book.

“Oopsies.”

“What? WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY oOpsIes?” you exclaimed. “Guess who’s gonna stay like that for a week.” he replies. You ignored him for more than a week, even when you turned back to normal.

[soongyeopsal]

Honey Where Your Mouth Is

Summary: You and Joshua make a lot of promises to each other. The question is: who will actually keep them?

▸ Pairing: Joshua x F!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ / pwp, comedy / f2? If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age in the bio, you will be blocked upon interacting (liking/reblogging) with this post.

▸ Warnings: mutual masturbation, fingering, use of pet names, smidge of blasphemy if you’re catholic (sorry)

▸ Word Count: 2.4k

▸ A/N: 🎃 Happy Halloween! 🎃 This has been brewing all month and is finally here! Hugs, kisses, and a big fat bouquet for @gyuhanniescarat who beta’d the absolute fuck out of this piece!!! Enjoy!

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Joshua is way too good at sexting. Whether it’s because he’s naturally talented or he has a lot of prior experience is irrelevant — all that matters is the ding! of another notification hitting your phone. The way he innocently pulls you in and then has you falling apart at the seams with just a few texts alone is a display of dominance you've never experienced before. It’s so fulfilling that you’re fine with this downlow arrangement, but one chilly October evening, Joshua opens the door of further opportunity: show him that you’re not all talk at Soonyoung’s Halloween party. 

The theme of the party is heaven and hell. You’re one of several skimpy angels, but there are just as many Jesus’ lounging about the expanse of Soonyoung’s living and dining rooms. None of them are Joshua though. He hadn’t told you what he was coming as, so you’re stuck craning your neck every which way, trying to pick out his face from a lineup of devils and clergymen.

You find yourself wandering into the kitchen next, where you spy some familiar faces, coming into contact with Mingyu and Seungkwan – two members in yours and Joshua's friend group. Seungkwan is a monk tonight, brown hood pulled over his head as he sips an unknown liquid from a solo cup. Mingyu is…something else.

When you approach the two men both extend you a fond greeting, although Mingyu isn't meeting your eye contact. The tips of his ears grow conspicuously red when you ask about his costume. There’s a badly applied – and not at all blended – bald cap on his head and he’s wearing a sleeveless black shirt with jeans. Sans cap, it’s a decent outfit, but it clearly doesn’t match the evening’s theme. He mumbles a response as he takes a drink as well. Beside him, Seungkwan is barely containing a chuckle.

“Sorry, what’d you say?”

“I said Min…” 

“Mingyu, speak up before I beat you up.” You could never beat him in an actual fight, but Mingyu fears your wrath regardless.

He clears his throat and mumbles a little louder this time, just barely loud enough for you to hear. “I’m Min Diesel.”

“...What?”

“Jeonghan told him the theme was movie stars!” Seungkwan mirthfully illustrates, dancing about, hell-bent on the opportunity to parody and rag on his friend openly tonight.

The outfit. The bald cap. Oh. You point at the man excitedly when it clicks. “The Fast and the Furious! Min Diesel’s funny!” The realization is of no comfort to Mingyu, as he’s currently trying to shrink inside of himself. Just then, Soonyoung the Priest wedges himself into your kitchen formation and offers a bowl of communion wafers to everyone. “Eucharcrisp?” 

You all balk at him before Mingyu asks warily, “Can you do that?”

“What’s wrong? Why does everybody keep saying that?” Soonyoung studies the wafers thoughtfully. “I got them online really cheap. There were a lot of options - lots of people must buy them.”

“Churches buy them,” you add.

“And so do normal people!” Soonyoung defends, hugging the bowl against himself when it’s evident that no one will take him up on his offer. “Whatever. There’s pizza on the way anyways, but I was trying to be a good host by providing snacks.”

Soonyoung exits the circle just as quickly as he arrived, indignation in his gait. “We still appreciate you! Don’t let Joshua see though!” Seungkwan calls after him. 

“Oh yeah!” Soonyoung whips around, placing a wafer under his tongue and holding it there. “Yoschewa ish ooking for oo! Upschtaws.” 

Right. Your “date”. Joshua. Of course he’d be upstairs — he’s supposed to blow your back out tonight. Or are you blowing him? You suppose you could blow his back out if that’s what he wanted. What does he want? Obviously to fuck, but how? You have a lot to prove. Fuck. Right. 

You’re not sure if you even say goodbye to your friends as you walk away, but Mingyu raises his eyebrows and Seungkwan whistles proudly as you retreat to the stairs. Given the two man-babies' reactions to your departure… Maybe this situation isn’t as downlow as you thought?

Soonyoung’s house has three bedrooms, and you know which are meant for guests, so you find the one Joshua is in on the first try. He’s sitting on the bed, leaning back on one hand while the other lazily scrolls down a feed on his phone. When you enter, he sits up straight and places the device down, sides of his mouth quirking up into an inviting smile. He’s gorgeous even when he’s swallowed up by a black robe in dim lighting. The air doesn’t feel mischievous at all — so why are your hands so clammy? 

You’re frozen in the doorway and he has to call your name a few times to bring you back from the mess of thoughts racing through your head. “H-Hey,” you finally say, voice meek. 

“You made it! I’m glad to see you.” “You too…”

“I’m not gonna bite you, y’know. You can come in,” Joshua chuckles, gesturing and then patting the empty space next to him.

You close the door behind you and sit next to him the same way you have a million times before. Joshua is calm in a way that only makes you more nervous. He’s so….unburdened by the knowledge of what you two had discussed before tonight. In an attempt to break the ice, you make the dumbest attempt at conversation that you have in a while. “So did you see Soonyoung’s–”

Joshua sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I have, regrettably, seen Soonyoung’s Eucharist.”

“I thought it was Euchacrisps?” 

“The body of Christ is the Eucharist.” 

“Right. Sorry.”

Finally, Joshua laughs in earnest, clapping you on the back. Wow, his hand feels so big. “I’m kidding!” He elbows you in the ribs gently when you hesitate. “I don’t actually care — it’s not that serious. Are you ok? You seem stressed out.”

Is he for real? “I– Are you not? Aren’t we gonna…? You know…” You don’t know you’re wringing your hands in your lap until Joshua dwarfs them with his own enormous hands. He’s so warm, but his touch ignites a wave of goosebumps all over that wash over you like ice. Or are you still just clammy? Thankfully you don’t have time to dwell on that, not when your eyeballs are tracing the veins in his hands up to the cuff of his sleeve. 

Joshua’s gentle tone doesn’t match the devious glint in his eyes. “I’m down to do whatever you want, sweetheart. Fuck you, eat you out, anything. You know that. Where’s all that bravado?”

You’re not sure why you’re shocked at his forwardness. This man literally guided you in delicious detail through foreplay and fucking yourself just a few days ago. As if he’d commanded it, his body switches from cold to hot instantly. Goosebumps turn into fevered flesh and you involuntarily clench around nothing, making you adjust your legs. Painfully observant Joshua tsks and taps your knee, knowingly. “Don’t be shy now. You can always back out, but don’t hide from me. Ok?” You nod and he taps you again, more insistent. “Ok?” Joshua told you from the beginning of your textcapades that when it comes to real life, when it comes to taking what he gives you, you have to speak; have to use your words. “Ok,” you confirm, exhaling in an attempt to expel the tension that nips at the heels of your excitement.

It must not work, because Joshua offers something else. Not his tongue or cock, but: “Why don’t we start off easy, hm? You want my fingers? What’d you say the other day? You wanted to feel how thick they are, yeah? I’m happy to demonstrate.” 

Minutes later you’re naked and on your back, bed pillows stacked and supporting your neck because Joshua insists that you watch. You watch him take off his robe, stare intensifying as he tweaks his own nipples, eyes widening at the sight of  him reaching those beautifully wide hands slide down into his boxers and pulling out his already half-hard cock. 

And he meets your gaze, a devilish grin forming in response to the anticipation, followed by confusion that spreads across your features when he commands you to touch yourself. 

“Gotta warm that pretty little pussy up, baby. Come on, do it like I taught you, princess.” Joshua spreads his precum over the head before pumping himself lazily. “Run your fingers on your thighs and over those cute lips down there. Slow, remember. And don’t touch your clit.”

You’ve barely started and you’re whining already as you follow his instructions exactly. Joshua always called you his good girl when you said you were doing as he advised and you needed that now more than ever. Now, while he’s real and here and not bubbles typing something salacious on a screen.  

You ghost two, then eventually three fingers across your skin for what feels like forever, ignoring the way your arousal begins to drip from your opening like honey. Joshua’s eyes are locked on your core as he continues to work himself up, leading you along a hypnotizing chorus of sultry “yes”s and “just like that”s. 

“You’re doing such a good job for me,” he coos when your wrist just barely bumps your clit and you jolt. “So, so good. Let me reward you for being so patient, sweetheart.”

Your own hands are batted away and one of Joshua’s cups your pussy and squeezes. With how on edge you are the pressure is enough for the room to white out for a second. Joshua leans over you to swallow the moan that it rips out of you in a kiss. It doesn’t last long enough — he pulls back too soon. Your vision returns and you see why; there’s a trail of precum on your stomach, messy and smudged from the way his cock has dragged across your stomach. 

Joshua won’t let you comment on it. One of his fingers scoops up your own pre and then enters easily. Your eyes snap back up to see him studying you smugly as he familiarizes himself with the feeling of you.

“Ok so far?” he asks. Once again, his words are so much softer than his actions and it’s maddening in a way that has you tightening around his digit pathetically. 

“Y-Yeah,” you breathe out, back arching slightly in a silent plea for more.

“Excellent.” Joshua wastes no time adding another finger, looking down at you gleefully when your eyelids flutter at the intrusion. 

Joshua is just like you’d imagined: confident, firm, so much thicker than your own fingers. The way his fingers spread and prod and search has pleasure radiating through your body – it’s unbelievable that you can feel this good without cock even entering the equation yet. 

Then he finds that patch that snatches a gasp from your lungs and has you bucking against him. “There she is,” he lauds. “This is what you’ve been dreaming of, isn’t it, princess?”

If you were speeding toward the edge before, Joshua just put a brick on the gas pedal to make sure you can’t stop. All you can do is groan in response as he continues to pry open the floodgates. He’s kind enough to show you a little mercy and not force you to say anything coherent anymore. “Yeah, I know it is.”

The weight on the bed shifts and you peek down past your body to see Joshua on his knees, one hand still working you open while the other clasps his dick at the base, 

“Baby,” he moans almost pornographically, “I want you to cum for me. Show me you can really listen. Mmkay?” 

It’s hard to keep listening when his fingers are so relentless, but it’s so so so much better than anything through the phone. You’ll hang on to every word even if he’s got you screaming too loud to hear him clearly — and you wish he were, but you do have an entire party downstairs and in relative earshot. 

Hearing Joshua grunt and feeling the pace of his fingers falter is just as satisfying though. His words are breathy as he coaxes you toward your orgasm. It must not just be you - Joshua is headed to his own end as well, smooth words and all.

“Now, sweetheart, now.” He twists his wrist around so he can press his thumb on your clit. It’s more of a slide, though, with how your wetness is coating everything. Nonetheless he applies the perfect amount of pressure, circles your nub just so and you instantly snap. Your mouth widens in a perfect ‘O’ and your vision goes out completely as the current thrusts you into a violent wave of ecstasy. There’s a distant tickle of something warm splattering on your abdomen and then silence. 

By the time your breathing slows down, Joshua’s voice is gingerly pulling you from the flotsam. “You’re ok,” he whispers. “You’re ok, sweetheart. You were such a good girl for me.” 

It’s not until a warm washcloth is washing you off that you return to the present, your gaze drifting down to Joshua as he kneels between your legs to clean you up. You shift a little and he peers up at you, satisfaction evident even from down there. 

“Welcome back~”

As comfortable as Joshua made you feel, the more sensible part of you eventually returns and makes you a little embarrassed to face your friends right now. 

Joshua is as casual as he was when you arrived, throwing his robe back on to grab pizza for the both of you to share in the guest room.

He takes it off again as soon as he returns. A show of solidarity as you remain exposed to him. The two of you eat cross-legged on the bed, leaning against each other shoulder-to-shoulder while you eat. “So!” Joshua starts after you’ve comfortably demolished two slices each. “How was it? Good, right?” 

You lick some excess pizza sauce from your finger and grin at him playfully. “What, your costume?”

If he hadn’t just fucked you on his fingers, you’d think that the look of irritation Joshua gives you is genuine. “My hands - my fingers playing with that pretty pussy.”

Despite all of this, you’re still thrown when he’s so…blunt. “You were right, it was great. You’re great at that. Oh my god.”

Without missing a beat, Joshua fires back, “Yeah, I’ll have you saying that next time on my cock, darling.”

There’s only so much flattery that you can handle in one night. Next time you’ll be ready to take him on for real, to walk the walk you once talked. But for now, you want to just bask in the afterglow with your fuckbuddy? friend. 

“What is your costume, by the way?”

Joshua scoffs, offended. “A choir boy! It was obvious!”

“Mmm, I think Min Diesel’s got you beat.”

[wethotcrazy]

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (iv)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 1865

part 4 this has some very minor mentions of body image stuff if you dont like it you could just skip over it ://

part i part ii part iii

Yn’s arrival in Monza carried a sense of self that had been slowly rebuilding all season. She moved with renewed confidence through the paddock, her head held high, embodying the fierce passion and easy-going charm that had once captivated fans in her junior days. Here, under the electric atmosphere of Italy’s temple of speed, she felt herself settling in, embracing the spotlight rather than shrinking from it.

Press day buzzed around her, a mix of genuine questions and the probing kind that often skirted on invasive. She answered with a cool, unwavering smile, handling questions about her race performance and strategy with ease. But some journalists were still hung up on the idea of her supposed transformation, finding subtle ways to question her ambition and intensity.

A reporter cut through the murmur with a pointed question: “Yn, some fans feel you’ve changed since moving into Formula 1. They say your intensity now is… well, a bit harsh compared to your easy-going reputation before. What do you think about that?”

Yn took a measured breath, holding the reporter’s gaze. “I think everyone grows and adapts,” she replied, her tone steady. “I’ve had to become tougher—this is Formula 1. You don’t get to this level by staying exactly the same.” She smiled, tilting her head slightly, knowing her response might surprise them. “But I’m still me. Maybe they just don’t know the whole me yet.”

Inside, however, Yn felt the familiar weight of their criticisms. Headlines seemed to dissect her appearance as much as her performance. She’s always known what it felt like to be looked at but not seen, to feel reduced to surface-level perceptions. Later in the garage, she scrolled through social media, seeing how her every move was scrutinized, with articles speculating on her appearance and attitude. A headline caught her eye, dissecting how she looked and speculating on her dedication. It stung, yet Yn brushed it off as best as she could, knowing what mattered most were the hours she put in, the passion and drive that defined her journey.

During a break, she slipped outside for a moment, breathing in the cool air and finding a rare sense of calm. Standing by the paddock entrance, she felt a nudge on her shoulder. Yuki, with a comforting grin, extended a cup of coffee toward her.

“All good?” he asked, his eyes bright with the same familiar warmth she’d come to count on.

She chuckled, taking the coffee. “Am I that transparent?”

He shook his head, nudging her gently. “No, you’re strong as hell. Just don’t forget that,” he replied.

Yn smiled down at the coffee, grateful for Yuki’s support. In Monza, she felt a freedom that hadn’t been there for a long time—permission to be herself without apology, knowing she had someone in her corner.

The weekend drew out a renewed side of her, and fans were quick to notice her lighthearted interactions with Yuki. TikTok and Instagram filled with reels and montages of the two sharing inside jokes, quiet encouragements, and lingering glances. Their connection sparked countless posts:

@GridGoddess: If Yn has a #1 fan, it’s Yuki for sure 🥹 #YukiYn

@RaceRomantics: The way they just… get each other? God when will it be my turn?!

@PitStopParadise: Can’t believe people judge her she’s literally my GOAT.

Amid the noise of judgment, Yn also felt a quiet source of strength growing, both from Yuki’s presence and her newfound resilience. She realized that her journey wasn’t for validation from fans or critics, but for herself.

That night, she and Yuki found a quiet corner at a small Monza restaurant, sharing stories over dinner as if it were just them against the world. When a few photos of them laughing surfaced online, fans noticed the quiet bond between them—an understanding that went beyond words. She deserves someone like Yuki, a fan tweeted, someone who’s her equal on and off the track.

With race day approaching, Yn’s focus intensified. Every lap around the circuit, every second shaved off her time, felt like her own triumph, undiluted by headlines or opinions. As she put on her helmet before practice the next day, she caught Yuki’s eye, and he gave her a confident nod.

Race day in Monza held a restless energy in the air, heightened by the sharp roar of engines and the flash of flags. Yn felt a pulse of determination beating through her, gripping the wheel with an intensity she hoped would carry her through the demanding laps ahead. As the lights went out, she carved her way through each corner, holding off fierce competition and securing a spot within the points. By the time she crossed the finish line, she could feel the relief of a race well-executed, even as she knew the spotlight would focus just as much on her demeanor as her results.

She made her way to the pit lane, pulling off her helmet and savoring the sounds of her team’s cheers, the satisfaction of another solid performance in the books. But as she looked around, her eyes fell on Yuki, who had also finished within the points but seemed to be reeling with adrenaline. His helmet was off, and his expression held a smirk of satisfaction that was more defiant than usual. Yn couldn’t help but laugh; she’d heard his radios during the race, the frustration and raw emotion that bled through his exchanges with his engineers. He’d been more aggressive on track than ever, pushing boundaries and holding his ground in a way she admired.

Yn walked over to him, smiling as he caught her eye. “Pushed it a bit today, huh?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Yuki shrugged, smirking in return. “Didn’t hear them complaining when it got us into the points,” he replied, unbothered. “Sometimes you have to ignore the noise and go for it.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Guess so,” she said, both of them knowing how different the reaction would be if she’d been the one shutting down her engineers with the same bite or cutting through the grid with that kind of aggression.

But as they made their way back into the paddock, social media was quick to start dissecting the race. Fans and analysts alike noted the sharpness in Yuki’s demeanor over the radio, his unabashed intensity on the track. Comments trickled in about his fierceness:

@F1Hearted: “Yuki’s intensity out there—exactly what we need. He was just defending his position like a champ.”

@GridGoddess: “Seeing Yuki hold his ground? No one could say he wasn’t going all-in today.”

@RaceForGlory: “Yuki letting out some heat on the radio… we love a driver who knows what he wants.”

But alongside these supportive voices, Yn saw a few familiar phrases creeping into her feed—posts from those who’d noticed the contrast. No one was labeling Yuki’s behavior as “too much” or “emotional.” No one was implying he lacked the control to handle the pressure. The familiar double standard sat in the back of her mind like a shadow, a reminder of how different things could look when she was the one showing that level of intensity.

@F1RaceQueen: “Funny how when Yuki goes full throttle, it’s ‘passion,’ but when Yn does it, they can’t wait to call her ‘too emotional’ or ‘out of control.’”

@EqualSpeed: “Imagine if Yn spoke to her engineers like that? Guarantee they’d be all over it in the media by now.”

@PitStopPrincess: “Yuki’s aggression: ‘Driven.’ Yn’s aggression: ‘Emotional.’ When are we gonna let her race with the same freedom?”

Yn didn’t need these comments to tell her what she already knew. She’d felt the double standard for years—how her every move, every calculated risk, came under scrutiny, analyzed and picked apart with an intensity that often felt like it wasn’t even about her driving at all. Sympathy’s a knife when they only want to use it to cut you down, she thought. Yet somehow, her every success only sharpened the blade.

Later, she found Yuki relaxing in the hospitality tent, still carrying that sense of accomplishment despite the edgy drive. She joined him, pulling out a chair and watching as he glanced over, eyes glinting with amusement.

“So… intense race today?” she asked, unable to hide a grin.

“Had to be,” he replied, shrugging. “They’ll get over it. We’re here to drive, not win any popularity contests, right?”

She smiled, but her gaze softened. “If only it were that easy. Sometimes it feels like we’re driving two different races, you know? You can go out there, push the limits, and they see it for what it is. For me… they don’t just want to watch me drive…”

Yuki’s face fell for a moment, and he gave her a sympathetic nod. “Trust me, I see it too. It’s messed up… the things they say about you, about how you handle yourself.” He sighed, crossing his arms. 

She took a breath, “I’m learning to tune it out. Most of the time, anyway.” She glanced up at him, managing a small smile. “But thanks for seeing it.”

Yn would be lying if she said that she wasn’t even just a little bit jealous of the other drivers on the grid. Sure, they too got their fair share of criticisms, but they were also afforded a lot more freedom than she was. They could push boundaries, show frustration, and even make mistakes without it being dissected into a commentary on their character or capability. They weren’t labeled as “emotional” or “out of control” for a bit of aggression or a curt radio message. Instead, their passion was seen as intensity, their mistakes as just a part of the game.

She knew it was because they were men, that their presence on the grid was never questioned, never viewed as something “out of place.” No one saw their outbursts as a threat or their ambition as too much to handle. They were allowed to be fierce, even volatile, because it was accepted as part of what made them great competitors. Meanwhile, she had to fight not only for her results but for the right to be seen as a competitor at all—without every emotion or misstep being judged under a microscope.

Sometimes she wished she had that same freedom to just drive, to let herself be ruthless without second-guessing every reaction, wondering how it would be spun or if it would become a talking point. She wanted the same unspoken allowance to be aggressive, to be a risk-taker, without it being a commentary on her “femininity” or a challenge to her professionalism. But instead, she had to keep a tight hold on every word, every expression, every surge of frustration, because the world was waiting, eager to box her in or define her by anything other than her skill.

The jealousy wasn’t rooted in resentment toward her fellow drivers but in a longing to be given the same space to race freely, to know that her drive, her ambition, her mistakes, and her success could simply be hers. And as she watched the other drivers on the grid, it became clear: she wanted nothing more than to be seen as one of them, an equal, no qualifiers attached.

[zeroseuniverse]

Ghosted

WC: 1.8K Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader Warnings: Talks of anxiety attacks, ghosting, arguing.

“You need to get back into the dating world, you can’t just be the third wheel with Hyunjin and I all of the time.” Felix tries to justify his actions.

“Wow just say you don’t wanna be friends then Felix.” She smirked as she wiped down her counters. Her traitorous best friend was trying to talk her into getting an online dating profile so she can finally stop overworking herself, not that she saw it that way.

“You know that’s not what I mean, but come on you never go on dates and you could meet the one! Just give it a chance.”

“No Felix.” She said sternly moving further into her kitchen, Felix following like a lost puppy still trying to plead his case.

“I already made the account.”

“Why on Earth would you do that?” She asked, spinning to pin him with a glare, feeling very frustrated with the man right at this moment.

“Oh come on! I know tons of people on the app, Hyunjin and I even met on it so you should give it a try.”

“If you want me to stop hanging around you and Hyunjin you can go ahead and tell me, don’t try to force a relationship on me.” She said angrily, causing the blonde to shrink back slightly as he took in the implications of his approach. While she had taken the third wheel thing as a joke at first she was seemingly offended now.

“That’s not what I mean!” 

“Sure seems like it.” She mumbled, snatching her phone from Felix, only now noticing he had it this whole time, the app already open. “Go home.”

“Oh come on, I’ll stop pushing but this is our day. Don’t break the routine.”

“No Felix, go have a date with Hyunjin or something, I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“I get I upset you but can’t we just move on?”

“No Felix please leave.” She said not even looking at him as she moved across the room to open the front door to show she is being serious about his departure.

“Just think about it.” He whispered sadly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before leaving. 

–

Talking to Hyunjin wasn’t the same as talking to Felix, having known the younger for much longer she was much more comfortable, and Hyunjin rarely hung out with her without Felix, but the second Felix came home in tears about how the situation went down, Hyunjin understood that this wasn’t gonna be something easy to get over, so he divided his time so he could care for both parties, ignoring the woman’s protests about how he should be with his boyfriend.

“What about him?” Hyunjin wondered, swiping through the app, having convinced her to just swipe through to see who all was around.

“Too manly.” She said barely sparing a glance.

“Well he is a man, so.”

“Not what I mean.”

“I know, but if I’m sassy enough you might actually pay attention to what I’m showing you.”

“I don’t care about stupid dating. Especially if you guys are just trying to get me away from you guys, I’ll just stop crashing your dates. It’s fine I don’t need a stupid date to occupy myself.” She sighed, jotting down more notes for her work.

“That’s not our intention, we genuinely just want you to be happy.” Hyunjin tried to express only to frown when she showed no sign of acknowledging his words, he looked back down at the phone only to gasp loudly.

“Oh My God! Look!” Hyunjin screeched, shoving the device into her face excitedly, it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the light, which felt like forever for the dramatic man. “Look! Look!”

“I would be able to if it wasn’t basically on my eye.” She snarked, snatching the phone, only to see the most gorgeous smile she’s ever seen filling up her screen. 

She audibly gasped, unconsciously moving her thumb to see more, each picture grabbing her attention more and more. Hyunjin watched with an excited grin as she took in the man with awe written on her features. She swiped down to view the bio and her eyes almost popped out of her sockets. He was seemingly perfect.

She sighed internally knowing it was a long shot, swiping right before throwing the phone back to Hyunjin so she didn’t have to see if there was a match or not. “Holy Shit!” The exclamation caused her to jolt in her seat, scared by the abrupt noise. “You matched!” He screeched, shoving the phone in her face yet again, the light causing a headache to begin to form. 

And that is how she got into a routine, everyday her and Song Mingi, her match,  would messge beginning with cordial quick chats following into much deeper conversations, sometimes leading into nightly phone calls. It was adorable, especially to Hyunjin who was gossiping to Felix every chance he got about how their friend Mingi matched with their bestfriend all thanks to him. 

And everything seemed to be going well, until the day of the date came. After prettying herself up and mentally preparing herself to meet possibly the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, she was thoroughly disappointed when he didn’t show. With no other choice the woman trudged back to her apartment feeling defeated, missing a frantic man rushing into the restaurant looking panicked, he really shouldn’t have expected her to still be there but his panic attack took way longer than usual to calm down and he then needed to look semi composed, by time he got there he was two hours late. Embarrassed he went home to try and figure out how to fix the issue, maybe he can ask a friend for help.

And so he did, the next day he met with Felix at his boyfriend’s cafe to discuss his mistake, unknowingly Felix already heard of what happened last night when his bestfriend had called him in tears, cursing him for getting her onto the dating app. She genuinely felt a strong connection to the intellectual tall boy, only to be dumped like that.

“Okay operation cupid is a go. You know the plan?” Hyunjin asked his boyfriend before Mingi showed up, earning an eye roll from the blonde.

“Of course I know the plan, I’m the one that came up with it.” 

“That's right…Okay he’s here go!” Hyunjin rushed out moving to look busy even though it was quite obvious his nosey self was listening.

Step 1: Get Mingi’s side of the story.

“I’m so sorry to call and dump all of this on you, you’re just the only one I know with good relationship experience.” Mingi explained looking pathetic if Felix was being honest. He almost resembled a kicked puppy.

“It’s all good, what’s going on?” Felix prompted allowing Mingi to go into his story about how he got panicked about the date and accidentally psyched himself right into a panic attack, but nobody was there to calm him down so it took longer than usual to even be able to comprehend anything, and by time he could it was too late, and he was too embarrassed to reach out, what if she was mad at him.

“I’m sure if you explain it’ll all be fine.” Felix reassured,  but Mingi looked panicked at the thought of telling a new person in his life about his disorder, it was personal. 

Step 2: Get her there.

That part was a little more difficult for Hyunjin. It took a lot of coaxing to get her out of her house where she was trying to drown herself in work to not feel embarrassed. But thankfully after explaining Felix was busy and couldn’t bring him lunch she was on her way with some food. Tentatively walking in with her hood pulled over her head and sunglasses over her eyes to help with her pounding headache.

“Oh look at you being the bestfriend possible!” Hyunjin cheered rushing over to embrace the tired woman, the ruckus gaining some attention but it didn't last long, nobody sparing more than a glance except Felix.

“Hyunjin.” She said monotonously, causing the tall man to gulp.

“Yes beautiful?” He covered with a sweet grin.

“Tell me why I can see Felix in my line of sight when you told me he was busy.”

“He is! He’s talking to an old friend.” 

“Mhmm, well I’m leaving now.”

Step 3: get them to meet

“Wait! Felix wanted to talk to you about something.” Hyunjin panicked trying to usher her into his boyfriend’s direction.

“He’s talking to someone right now, he can just tell me later.” She rolled her eyes trying to leave again, but Hyunjin all but threw her over his shoulder and carried her over to the table, settling her next to Mingi before sliding in next to Felix.

“What the hell man!” She grunted holding her stomach where his boney shoulder dug into, only earning an unapologetic shrug from the dramatic man.

“Oh my god!” She heard a deep voice gasp out next to her causing her eyes to widen and her head to spin.

“Mingi?” She grasped out before throwing herself out of the seat and rushing to leave the cafe very much annoyed at the set up.

“Wait wait wait just hear me out!” Mingi panted, catching up with her with a quick sprint. 

“Hear what out? You stood me up and now you’re talking to my friends?” 

“Well that’s not exactly what happened, I didn’t know they were your friends. Felix is my friend from dance, I called him because I messed up last night.” He rushed to explain, reaching to gently grasp her wrist. “I got too in my head and had a full blown panic attack, I blacked out for a bit after and by time I came to and washed back up I was already an hour and a half late, I showed up anyways hoping for some reason maybe I could still fix my mistake. But you weren’t there. So I called Felix for advice. I was too embarrassed to reach out until I knew for sure how to fix it the right way.” His eyes were watery and filled with guilt as he looked at her pleadingly.

“So you didn’t purposefully stand me up?” She asked with a slight tilt of the head.

“God no! Never! You’re the first person I’ve felt such a genuine connection to in a long time, please give me a chance to fix this.” He pleaded, moving to sit on his knees before her as if he was begging, making her giggle a bit at his determination.

“Do you like Ice Cream?” She wondered, making him look at her incredulously, “I know a really cute ice cream place, we can go now if you’re up for it.” She offered, causing him to spring to his feet, grabbing her hand and pulling her to his car, opening the door for her before hopping in just as quick, the eagerness in his movements causing her to stifle her laugh. And then they were off.

[wheredafandomat]

Shrink | P2 - Arms for days

Avenger! Loki x Therapist! reader

18+ | probably bad language, mentions of sex etc - pretty much the same warnings in each part

Previous Next

“So, Loki, how has your week been?” You asked politely after welcoming him inside. As usual, he sat down, poured himself a glass of water and slouched a little in his chair as his gaze wandered around the room before settling onto you.

“Decent” he shrugged “same old routine.”

“Have you—” you questioned, hoping he knew that you were alluding to having sex.

“No.” He exhaled.

“Okay” you nodded “any particular reason?”

“Well for starters” he began looking at the floor, eyes clearly following something before he tossed his water out into the small plant pot next to him and knelt on the floor, placing the glass over a spider “I just haven’t found anyone that—sorry do you have a piece of paper?” He asked, glancing up at you. Taken aback a little, you handed him the paper, watching as he slipped it underneath the glass and lifted the spider before walking towards the window where he released it. “I wonder how that got in here?” He smiled to himself as you recalled your previous conversation with Natasha. Clearing your throat, you rid yourself of the thought as Loki sat back down. “I haven’t found anyone to be intimate with yet.”

“S—so what about online dating?” You queried.

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” He chuckled.

“Or maybe your brother could set you up with someone.” You suggested.

“I just—shh, did you hear that?”

“No, wha—” you started before Loki dived towards you, knocking your chair backwards as he settled above you on the floor, shielding you as something shot through the window. “Loki, what's going on?” You shrieked, glass hitting the floor from the broken window as Loki remained silent, eyes wide.

“I think you’ve just been shot at.” He eventually spoke as silence settled between you. Breathing heavy, you looked up at him with a mortified expression as he began to stand up. “Stay down here, I’m going to check to see if the coast is clear.”

“Loki be careful!” You warned.

Lifting himself up, he looked outside, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Stepping away from the window, he picked up the bullet that was on the floor, inspecting it.

“I’ll have this traced back to the shooter, in the meantime I think it’s safer for you to stay at the compound in case someone is targeting you.” He proposed, kneeling to your level.

“Why would someone want to target me?” You spoke just above a whisper, mostly shocked and a little frightened.

“You’ve counseled many important people over the years including half of SHIELD, if I wanted to take the organisation down, you’re someone I’d definitely torture answers out of.” He explained, an unfamiliar glint in his eye that strangely stirred something in you. “There’s nowhere safer for you than at the compound and I’ll make it my mission to ensure your protection Doctor y/l/n” he smiled “and who knows, maybe I’m mistaken.”

After completing the necessary paperwork granting you leave from work pending further investigation, you and Loki made your ways to the compound. Luckily for you, it wasn’t your first time there so you weren’t nervous however Loki practically shielding you with every step you took did make you nervous and not in a fearful way. Unfortunately for you, Natasha was on a mission so you weren’t able to just bunk with her.

“There’s a guest bedroom at the end of my hall, I’ll walk you to it.” Loki spoke, leading you to the elevator.

He pointed out his room as you passed it before you reached the guest bedroom. He showed you inside before leaving you alone to process what had actually just transpired the past few hours.

After a while, you decided to make your way to Natasha’s room which was still where you remembered it and grabbed a couple of things to wear. On your way back to your own room, you knocked on Loki's door. He quickly answered, leaning against it as he looked at you.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” You simpered.

“For what?”

“Saving my life.”

“Y/n” Loki began, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he looked into your eyes “I couldn’t bear the thought of anything bad happening you to, I’m glad I was there, there’s no need to thank me.” He insisted, dropping his hand as your gazes remained fixed on one another’s.

“Well I-I better go.” You broke the silence, stuttering as you tried to look away.

“Of course, goodnight.” Loki bid kindly leaving you wondering where the hostile Loki everyone kept speaking about was.

“Night.”

“What the fuck was that?” You huffed to yourself, closing the door behind you once you reached the bedroom again.

The following day, Loki excitedly approached Thor in the common room after returning from his walk.

“Thor, I believe I have found the one.” Loki grinned.

“The one for what?” Thor questioned.

“To do the sex with.” He almost exploded with excitement.

“Right, sex, relations, the deed.” Thor listed uncomfortably.

“Would you like to meet her?” Loki offered. Before Thor could answer, Loki called her inside. “Ethel” to which he received no reply. “Oh Ethelll” he sang this time to no avail “ETHEL!” He hollered before an elderly lady trudged in. Thor’s smile fell as he looked between the two.

“Um-Loki, can I have a word?” Thor asked.

“Sure.”

“In private?”

“She can’t really hear anyways, you can speak freely here.” Loki dismissed.

“Loki—she”

“Is a stunner right.” Loki interrupted.

“Where did you meet her?”

“She had fallen down outside and as I helped her up, she said I had big strong arms and you know I don’t really get told that often, usually it’s you who—”

“Get on with it.”

“Well one thing led to another and now she is my mate.” Loki chirped as Bucky entered the room, looking for something.

“You haven’t.” Thor almost gasped.

“Not yet.”

“Look Loki, why don’t I set you up with one of Jane’s friends?” Thor offered. Turning to look at Ethel, Loki’s smile fell when he watched her touching Bucky’s arms.

“You have such big strong arms.” She complimented causing Bucky to smile as Loki narrowed his gaze, turning back to Thor.

“Alright.”

Ethel was a player 🥺🤣

Next

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @evelyn-kingsley @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen @november-rayne @12-pm-510

[armpirate]

Soundleasure | Choi San || CH. 35

Pairings: Soft!San x fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, fake dating

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, online sex, ghosting

Warnings: inexperienced!San, fem!reader, masturbation, online sex, camboy, first times.

Summary: You can do whatever you please and be whoever you want on the Internet. And San knew that a little bit too well.

After finally following all the signs the universe was throwing at him, he started living a double life that no one was aware of. Everyone in his daily life knew him as Choi San, the reserved and quiet boy who wouldn't raise his voice, and would barely communicate with anyone outside of his comfort group. But only a few knew him as Soundleasure, the man with a sexy voice and a filthy mind that had their toes curling just with his narrations.

He never thought of the possibility of those two lives ever meeting, he had always tried for them to follow a parallel route and had always played safe to keep his friends from ever suspecting that side even existed. But his plans will start to crumble when he gets a little too close with one of his subscribers and she invades his real-self and altergo's universes without being able to stop it.

Y/n will not only help him to keep his secret from his circle, but will also show him there's more of Soundleasure in him than he'd like to admit. 

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 20 minutes

Chapter warnings: Smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), dirty talk, explicit language, protected sex, recording of audio porn

Y/n's eyes opened slowly, realizing she was trapped among San's embrace, with his cheek squishing against the back of her head. Breathing in his scent first thing in the morning, that musky smell that remained even hours after he put the perfume on, was like the biggest energetic boost she could think of. And that thought itself had her smiling against his chest, feeling a warmth in her belly when his fingers momentarily spasmed on her nape, before they went back to their natural steady pose.

She couldn't describe with words how happy he made her with such simple things. He didn't even need to try.

And that realization had her smile slowly dropping.

Whoever the person was behind those notes, they were persistent on how she was going to make her way to them by herself. That person had mentioned San in such despective tones that it had her stomach shrinking down her body, slowly feeling her blood stop running through her veins just at the thought of something happening to him.

Her face hid in the curve of his neck, hugging closer to him, closing her eyes to absorb as much as she could of the moment, unaware that it'd make San to wake up.

He first groaned, stretching his legs while his arms were still lazily around her. And when he realized what woke him up, he could only think of sinking his face deeper in her head, closing his arms around her.

—Good morning to you, too —he lowly giggled, kissing her head—. What time is it?

—Don't move —she whispered, fists clenching on his t-shirt when he attempted to roll on his body to reach his phone.

And San aimed to please her, quickly letting go of the idea to care about the time, or being late to work.

—I don't want to go to work today —she confessed.

—You? —San managed to move his head back a little, enough to earn a difficult vision of the side of her face— My Y/n? The same person who works on her free days? You worked even in the hospital when you were recovering.

—I just don't want to go —she whined, hiding her face in his chest.

—Babe, I know you might get away with missing one day, but I won't —he clicked his tongue—. Mia is already annoyed enough after I rejected her and called her out. Missing would be a chance to fuck me up.

Any other day, his girlfriend would have answered to his sensible response, moving back and accepting the fact that he was right, but instead Y/n moved closer to him, shaking her head.

—What's wrong? —he directly asked, accepting the fact that he wouldn't move away anytime soon.

—Nothing —her voice sounded muffled against the fabric of his clothes.

—Y/n... —San warned her.

That warning was a reminder of what they went through and how they had just made things up after they went through communication problems. They assured each other they'd be honest just one day back.

—I don't think it's a good idea to be away from each other —she confessed, slowly moving back—. What happened last night... I just don't want anything to happen to you.

—They broke into your place —San commented—, and you're worried about me.

—The crazy person always goes against their competition —she explained—. Haven't you watched those thrillers?

—And here I was thinking of taking you to the cinema —San scoffed.

—San, I'm serious —she sat up on the bed—. I'll never forgive myself if something happens to you because of me.

—Well, you don't have to think about it, because nothing will happen to me —he also sat up, cupping her face—. Will you be more calm if we're together today?

She first side eyed him with unsure eyes, only to finally nod while pressing her lips.

—Aren't we working on that project? —San asked, caressing her cheek with his thumb— Come up with an idea for the whole team to be together. Say you saw on a research that results are better when group work is done that way. I don't know —he shrugged—. You're the boss, it's not like you need to give explanations.

And she didn't hesitate in putting his idea into practice.

At first, the team was surprised by her decision, but neither complained or tried to change her mind as they all moved to one of the large conference rooms.

The familiar hum of office chatter filled the large, glass-walled conference room as Y/n settled into her seat. San was seated a few chairs away, his focus glued to his laptop screen, although his eyes kept flying -not so subtly- in her direction to check on her.

The morning passed in a blur of meetings and brainstorming sessions. Y/n was just beginning to think she would be able to focus when Tom showed up, leaning casually against the doorframe of the conference room, his usual easy grin in place. Her heart sank.

—Y/n, got a minute?

The way he said her name made her stomach twist. She glanced at San, whose shoulders had tensed at Tom's arrival, not even trying to hide it. Y/n forced a smile, gesturing for Tom to follow her into the hallway, while her boyfriend's eyes followed them until they stepped outside. The door closed behind them with a soft click.

—It better be something work related —she warned him.

—I just wanted to make sure you were okay —Y/n slightly furrowed her eyebrow—. These days you seemed quite upset and running out of energy.

There was something off about the way he phrased it, as if he knew more than he should. Y/n's heart raced. She forced herself to keep her expression neutral, refusing to give away any of the panic swirling inside her.

—I'm fine —she answered, coolly.

—You sure? —he leaned closer—. I know it might be difficult to work with your boyfriend when you're in the middle of a crisis. Or did you make things up?

Y/n's breath caught. She took a step back, trying to put some distance between them. Tom's eyes flicked briefly to the conference room, and when he looked back at her, his expression was one of feigned concern.

—Did you seriously ask me for a talk for this? —her eyebrow was lifted, while her arms remained closed on her chest— It's not like this is the best place to talk about this —she looked around—, and it isn't any of your business either.

—I was just checking up —he shrugged nonchalantly—. People talk. And I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay, that's all. I know things didn't end well between us, but that doesn't mean I don't care.

His hand laid on her shoulder, fingerprints slightly pressing on the fabric of her white shirt to reassure her.

—And if he isn't treating you well...

—Ironic coming from you —she scoffed, quickly snapping back.

His words were laced with something that made her skin crawl. Tom had always worked on his own, barely giving her any explanations on what he did or why; he was the best example of emotional immaturity. Yet there he was, attempting to work as psychologist out of nowhere.

—I appreciate your concern, but I'm handling it —she moved her shoulder away—. I really need to get back to work.

—Of course. I just thought... Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, someone who understands, I'm here.

She nodded, turning quickly and heading back into the room, her heart pounding. She could feel Tom's eyes on her as she closed the door, the unsettling sensation of being watched making her skin prickle. She forced herself to focus, pushing the conversation with her ex boyfriend to the back of her mind.

But the unease lingered, gnawing at her concentration like a relentless itch she couldn't scratch.

As the afternoon wore on, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of being monitored. Tom seemed to find reasons to pass by the conference room, glancing in with what she could only describe as a calculated gaze. Once, he came in under the pretense of needing a document, lingering just a bit too long by her side, his shoulder brushing hers as he handed her the folder. She flinched, almost imperceptibly, and he smirked, that same unsettling smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Across the room, she saw San's jaw tighten as he watched the exchange, his fingers drumming impatiently on the table. When Tom finally left, his eyes followed him out, a dark, unreadable expression on his face.

By the end of the day, the conference room felt stifling. Y/n was exhausted, her mind buzzing with a thousand thoughts she couldn't control. As the team started to pack up, she found herself still sitting in her chair, breathing deeply to calm her racing heart as she allowed herself to burst all of her worries out.

San came back a few minutes later, his expression softening when he saw her.

—Are you okay? —he asked, quietly.

—Yeah, just a long day —she nodded, not convincingly.

San sat next to her, a hand reaching the side of her neck to give her a soft touch that had her whole body responding to it.

—Did he bother you?

Her eyes slowly opened back, reminded of how they had no time to be alone to talk, not even for a few minutes, throughout the long day that was left behind. San had seen her nervously bite the reverse of her thumb, shake her legs nervously, look around for any indicator. It even was obvious on the way she aimed at the small group of people in that room, with the confident side of her slowly fading with each passing second. It was as if she was alert to everyone and everything.

—He just wanted to check on me —she shrugged—. Apparently it's well known in the company we had problems, so he just wanted to know if I was doing okay.

His eyes were full of concern, and that made her feel a pang of guilt. Why did it always feel like she kept adding bad things in his life instead of good ones?

—Don't worry though. You're the first victim, remember? —she joked, trying to get him to calm down.

—I don't like him around you.

—Honestly, I don't like anyone around me right now —she sighed, moving away from him—. It's like everyone is guilty, everyone has something to do with those notes... And the most frustrating thing is that... —her tongue clicked, unable to say any more words when a knot tightened in her throat.

San held her close, hiding her face just when the first tear started rolling down her chin, snuggling their bodies together while he let her let everything out her chest.

—What if we do something nice? —he suggested, trying to give her mind something else to think of— We can get an ice cream, go for a walk... and maybe meet up with the boys. It might do you good to see them all.

But before she could say how much she liked his plan, two knocks on the door made them move away from each other slowly.

—I'm sorry —Jennifer apologized, looking down—. I thought you were alone —she mentioned, referring to Y/n.

—It's okay, Jen —despite everything going on, her smile still remained shining for others—. Did you need me?

—Well, I wanted to discuss some doubts that came up while reviewing some documents...

Y/n sighed, pondering whether they could be as important for her to think of staying there for longer than the five minutes it'd take her to grab her coat and leave. But one look at San and she knew nothing, in that moment, mattered enough for her to pause all of her plans.

—Can we leave it for tomorrow? —Y/n asked— Don't worry about it, we'll sort it out.

One weak wink and a sided smile, and she thought it was done. Jennifer simply accepted Y/n's refusal to help her, pressing her lips while looking down.

—Shall we leave?

San's dimples were the most visible she had seen them in the past few days, smiling widely before nodding.

His fingers moved in between hers, intertwining them together as they made their way to the front door. It was his way of showing her he didn't care how dangerous it could be or not for him, he'd always support her. He'd be there to protect her in case things didn't go right, and neither of them should care of what others could think of their actions from that moment and onwards.

As they walked out of the building together, side by side but not quite together, Y/n's thoughts were consumed by the cryptic messages, the lingering glances, and the suffocating feeling that something -or someone- was closing in on her. Although one quick pressure brought her back to reality, leaning on his body with a lovely gesture

Getting some fresh air, even if it was something as simple as going for a walk around the park near his house, was something she didn't think would make such a big impact. She allowed her mind to relax, to get away from the stress by just being around San. That was probably what helped the most: his company.

San clicked his tongue on her back, looking up at his phone while he closed the door behind him with his other hand.

—What?

—Wooyoung isn't coming today. Seems like his date with the cute guy is going in a good direction —he followed her to his room, seeing through the corner of his eye how she took her coat off—. And Mingi is going to stay with Yunho, since Iseul went back to visit her family.

—That means we're alone tonight...

—Yup, the house is all ours —he gracefully confirmed, slipping his jacket through his arms—. Although it seems like you've thought of something already.

His comment laced with the way her fingers traced the curve of the mic on his desk, glancing a malicious look at him. Her eyes were tempting when they narrowed that way, with her lips curving up in that usual shape that had his knees going weak.

—Did you record the video for this week? —she asked.

—Not yet.

She typed in his computer with his answer, unlocking the screen and clicking straight on the icon she had seen him click on before whenever they were together in his place and he used that time to film. Despite all being fake, those few times she found herself pressing her thighs together, looking for relief and earning a mischievous look from him before he continued with his thing. All those times, he ended closing the app and joining her in bed to do to her everything he narrated.

That time, and with everything going on in her head moving aside to give space to that idea, she wanted to lead one of those recordings with him. Carrying out the promise they both made when they started speaking.

San walked to her, intrigued by her idea, and too enchanted to move his attention anywhere else that wasn't her.

Rubbing her fingers with his, he pushed her hand away to click on the recording. His tongue traced her upper lip, before making its way in her mouth in a hungry kiss that almost made her lose her balance.

His fingers gripped on her hips over her blouse, asking her to take it off without emitting any sound other than a groan when she bit his lips. In front of his desk, they both took off each other's clothes slowly, until they were just covered by their underwear.

Her hands moved up the waistband of his boxers, touching his subtly-marked abs, moving past his sensitive nipples -earning a squirm from him- before moving her hands away from his wide shoulders, reaching the headphones that were placed over the mic support.

She had watched him for long enough to know what he used those headphones for, and she was so ready to use them on him. And there wasn't a better moment than that one, sure they'd help to erase any thought in his mind that wasn't her.

Her tongue licked his jawline, reaching her earlobe, and biting on it. His breath fell heavily on her hair, moving her locks with it. For a second, she could feel his pulse against her muscle, a bit faster than usual. And she couldn't imagine the speed it had reached when she sat in front of him at the edge of his bed, and pulled down his boxers.

The microphone was moved down, left at the same level as her mouth, before she started licking the tip. He felt so hard, yet at the same time so soft when she first took him in her mouth, knowing it'd take him seconds to be hard and thick in a matter of seconds.

That day, everything felt multiplied per ten. The way her lips around him felt even more powerful with the clear sounds he heard through his headphones. Every groan and moan while her head bowed all over his length, the few reflex gags that made her throat close around his tip when she took in too much... hell, he could even hear the way some lines of saliva piled up on the corners of her mouth, while his moans were overheard.

His hand, whose only role was to stroke her head as support, tensed when her fingers cupped his balls, making his cock twitch in a reflex.

—My turn —he groaned, pulling from some of her locks to move her head back, mesmerized by the way her lips were still connected to him by the thin string of saliva.

When he tried to clean it, Y/n skillfully moved her tongue up, licking his thumb while her eyes penetrated through his.

—Fuck, babe. If you keep looking at me that way, I'll end up fucking you so hard against the bed you'll start seeing stars —he bent over—. I'd eat you out until you only see white, anyway.

—Good —she smirked—, because that's the only good way I expect you to fuck me tonight.

She unclasped her bra, but before she could take it off, San's lip fell adamant on hers, possessive and authoritative. He helped her get naked through the kiss, dragging her to the edge as much as possible and pushing her body to the mattress so she'd be lying up.

—Why don't you take a pic of me? —her head tilted to the side, with the amount of time he took admiring every corner of her naked body.

—I want to, I will —he nodded—, but when you're so fucked up you can't even recognize yourself.

He passed the headphones to her, carefully putting it around her head, before he moved down to lick from her belly button to the space between her breasts. One knee was between her legs, the other one on the side of her hip, and his hand moved the microphone so it'd be pointing to her core.

Her nipples were already hard when he got to them, but he could feel them sticking against his tongue whenever he twirled it around either of them. The wet sucking sounds were loud against her ears, making her body instantly react, arching her back as she was looking for more, but only found herself disappointed when her boyfriend started moving back down on her.

San pulled from her panties, and a groan escaped from the back of his throat. Her juices coated her folds and leaked from her entrance like a fountain, that he was desperately dying to drink from.

He wasn't subtle like other times, he didn't taste the waters, his head sunk in her core like he had been thirsty for days.

His lips enclosed around her button, pulling from it and letting it go a few times, the sound of each suck rumbling through her ears.

—Fuck, I love it when you press your thighs around my head —he commented, loud and clear through her headphones, before he bit on the sensitive skin of the inner skin of her left thigh.

Y/n could clearly hear each breath he took before he closed his lips and sucked her clit, after his tongue licked all the way up from her entrance to her clit. He was everywhere at the same time, and that barely gave her a chance to settle, which she loved. A throb of pride beated in her chest, and her pussy, when she reminded herself she was the only one he learned all those techniques from, and the only person he had used them on. And she could only wish it was the same the other way around.

Two of his fingers brushed any thought in her head away, combining the soft groans with the push sound his digits made against her wetness every time he dug in her channel.

Her fingers ran through his head, wanting him to stick against her pussy, but also dying for him to look up. And, as if he had read her mind, his fierce gaze trapped her, instantly clicking her body to an orgasm she thought she was ready for. But it ran over head, from her scalp to the tip of her toenails, allowing her to hear her moan -which San had only been able to hear until then- through her headphones.

She didn't know exactly when he took the device away from her, when he moved the microphone up so it'd encompass his whole bed, or when he wrapped himself in a condom, but she felt his body on hers while she kissed her to calm her down. A brief sweet moment to make sure she was alright before they continued. His Soundleasure role took complete control of him that night.

—On all fours, babe —he whispered, caressing her hair.

Although her legs still felt weak, Y/n managed to move over the mattress when he gave her space to move.

His hand traced her arched spine when she was in position, moving up to her nape to squeeze it and rub his thumb on her jawline, before he sank down in her pussy, lining up himself with his other hand.

Soon the room left its momentary quietness to be replaced by lewd claps from their bodies, filthy words, and guttural moans and groans that had the other yearning for more.

She was so fucking right when she said her moans would sound so well mixed with his. He knew it the first day they slept together, but it was confirmed that night.

—Please.

The urgency in her tone just told him what her pussy was hinting, by the way she kept closing around him. His movements kept the same speed and power, adding his fingers rubbing her clit until she was shaken by another intense orgasm that almost had her collapsing over the mattress.

His hand cupped her ass cheek, squeezing her skin, before she was back to her senses and looked up over his shoulder.

—On your back —she commanded.

And San obeyed. Fuck yes he did.

He laid next to where she was, exactly in the middle of his bed, before she straddled his hips and sank himself back in her after moving her hips down. To all the lewd sounds from before, the sound of his bed squeaking under them with each jump she made was added.

—Fuck, you look so beautiful like this —he moaned—. A fucking goddess.

That compliment made her smile, although it disappeared quickly when the first wave from the third orgasm was hitting her.

—Rub your clit against me —he commanded.

She did. She sank his dick inside of her, completely connecting them, until their pubes met. Each of his hands were on her hips, helping her move while she frantically humped against him, the friction causing those starts he promised to show up in front of her eyes, while he twitched inside her tight channel.

Her hand fell around his throat, not closing her fingers around it nor choking him, only looking for some support when she was sure she was close to passing out.

—Hmm, are you going to cum with me? —she asked, almost out of breath, managing to let some words in between her cracked moans.

—Uhum, babe —he groaned—. Cum for me. Cum all over my cock.

It all happened so fast, and they both got momentarily clouded by each of their highs, that they lost consciousness of time when she collapsed all over his body. Even forgetting the app was still recording their soft pecks and giggles while they touched each other.

—I don't have to upload it.

—Why? —she looked genuinely disappointed when she looked up to him.

—Well, I understand it'll make you uncomfortable.

—Not really —she sighed—. Nobody knows it's me, or you. And it'll work pretty fine to let some of those women know you're pretty much taken.

—Babe, I was taken even before we dated. None of them stood a chance against you.

He always knew the right words, and he was always vocal about his feelings. And what drove her even crazier was knowing how real and genuine they all were.

—I'm so lucky to be with you —she whispered.

—I'm the one who's lucky, actually —he didn't let her snap back, his lips were on hers before she could—. Shall we make some dinner?

—Please.

The night went on with that intimate atmosphere that clouded them whenever they were together, that lovey dovey vibe that always made them feel dizzy, and that accompanied them from their kitchen, to the couch, until they were back in bed.

Both of them were on their phones, scrolling through emails, social media and texts, before one made her stomach twist.

If you're not mine, you'll be no one else's.

It was sent from a different number, but she knew what it was. She still hid it, sliding her finger to the side to make the notification at the top of her screen disappear.

Y/n left her phone on the night stand on her side, covering her body with the sheets, and immediately after feeling San's arms wrapping around her with a sigh, his face buried in the curve of her neck.

She wished they could go back to a few hours back, when her mind was able to rest from that stalker and everything they caused her. But she'd never feel genuinely calm, not until the police caught them.  

Taglist: @brown88

[rivkat]

Evil (TV)

Ok, you all were right about IWTV. Might you consider Evil? The show follows a hot Catholic priest-in-training, the hot atheist shrink to whom he is desperately attracted, and their hot lapsed Muslim tech guy as they investigate and try to prove/disprove demonic possessions. It is incredibly, delightfully unhinged. Part of it is that the show started on network TV, then moved to streaming in its second season, leading to the absolute best evolution where characters who were reasonably well-behaved start spouting "fuck" at the drop of a hat in S2, including a delightful nearly silent episode that was actually filmed while they still thought they'd be on network, so after filming they replaced the "thought dialogue" onscreen that the actor thought he was filming with a stream of "fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck," to hilarious effect. There's body horror, Catholic guilt, an amazingly toxic mother (Christine Lahti, having the time of her life), four kids who have clearly been instructed to just yammer every time they are on screen together--making them more realistic than 80% of TV kids from the get-go--examination of misogyny and anti-Blackness, critiques of modern internet culture, and the occasional Wallace Shawn. Also, the tech guy is Aasif Mandvi and the hot priest is Mike Colter (Jessica Jones/Luke Cage). And the bad guy is Michael Emerson (Harold Finch), chewing scenery like he only gets paid if he goes over the top.

Shorter rec: What if Hannibal and The X-Files had a deeply online baby? My one caveat is that this is a deeply cynical show, which feels a little like watching Cabaret: It's a sick culture and the show is not interested in fixing it, only in displaying it pinned open on a table so we can poke at the nastiest parts.

[nonbinary-octopus]

in my dream last night, I was a sizeshifting super, and my best friend could duplicate himself. His code name was Duploux (I may be a bit off on the spelling but it definitely ended with a silent x)

someone decided to do a thing that was supposed to turn off the superpowers of everyone in the city, but instead it kinda just. locked us into whatever we were currently doing. So I was like. "I'm stuck at thirty feet tall, there’s a couple dozen of Duploux running around who can't re-merge, and I know at least three Invisible Men who, chances are good, are probably currently stuck invisible. Amazing."

Powers came back online in fits and starts, and during that process I discovered a new power, which was the ability to sizeshift other people

you see, I had managed to shrink back down, except that I overshot and ended up around chest high to Du, and we were having a sort of fight with this other guy who had pretended to be Duploux, and then I was trying to hold him still and also trying to grow back to normal, and as I did so I shrank him.

oh also the guy who was pretending to be Duploux wasn't actually great at it, but I'm a bit faceblind so it worked on me up until actual Duploux showed up and I realized that the guy impersonating him was like a foot taller. Du whisked me away, and that's when we realized I was currently very short and only came up to his chest, and I was like "do you see why I didn't realize he was too tall?"

Duploux was also quite frustrated with powers being offline, because it also disrupted the usual telepathic connection he had between his many selves. When he got that back he was quite glad. I was also glad, both for him and because it had been a very odd experience having the various instances of my best friend have different knowledge, and having to find a specific one if I wanted him to remember something I'd told him. Which, of course, is very hard when they're all completely identical.

another bit in the dream, we were trying to get into a Very Secure Building and had to check in at reception, and the receptionist wanted to check in each of Duploux individually. Basically ask, who are you and what are you doing here. And he was like. "Can't you see we're all identical? We're all me." and tried to convince her that one check-in was sufficient.