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benedictscanvas · 10 months ago

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pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes.

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,�� he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso x reader

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stanpinesdykewife · 15 days ago

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i haven't posted any writing recently so have a really informal imagine-type scenario of something that's been on my mind for a few days!! imagine drunk sex with stan after a date... umm i accidentally dove headfirst into stan's praise kink so he gets a little subby here but i'm sure no one's complaining. under the cut:

so good stan/reader (gender-neutral) pre/during/post-canon/unspecified smut, 1237 words warnings: drunk sex! but an established relationship (bonus: drunk nsfw stan headcanons)

the both of you are barely inside, but you're all over each other. you almost forget to lock the front door through giggly kisses that taste like cheap beer, and stan is so grabby and touchy you leave half your outfit on the floor by the time you make it to your room. stan wiggles his brows and asks, "you wanna mess around?" and you laugh because he's already got you topless on the edge of the bed. obviously, you're getting some tonight.

but then you're not laughing, you're gasping, because stan is kissing down your neck, your chest, tugging your clothes off as he sinks down to the floor and moves your legs over his big broad shoulders. you think it's really unfair that you're almost fully naked and he's got all his clothes on but you can't say anything because then stan is mouthing over your underwear and "wow, oh, fuck, shit that feels good," and stan moans over your crotch when you lay on your back and rake your hands through his hair.

he's so good at this, even when he's drunk and doesn't exactly have the precision to find those spots that feel extra good. he makes up for it by tugging your underwear down (he doesn't even move when you have to lift your hips and grind into his face to get them off) and immediately getting lost in it. he moans at the taste of you, loud, like he's getting just as much out of it as you are. his tongue is so warm and he's gripping the tops of your thighs to keep them spread wide, even as they start to shake.

"that's good, fuck stan, so good for me." your breathing is heavy and your moans are just tumbling out of your mouth, you're still drunk, you can't control them, but stan literally whines into you and it's so fucking hot you don't care. one of his big hands squeezes your thigh before letting go of you, falling out of sight. you just tug his soft hair and keep babbling, "shit, shit, fuck, you're making me feel so good—ah, fuck, i'm��there, just like that, that's—fuck, yeah, you're gonna make me come, baby," and your moans get pitchy and your body goes tense and you fall apart on stan's tongue so much easier than you expected to.

but stan doesn't stop. he laps at you, cleans you up, even when you collapse onto your back, gasping and bucking your hips, your hand twisted in his hair. he's still moaning, the sound low and needy, and when you lean up enough to prop one elbow behind you, his eyes are screwed shut. his brows are furrowed in focus.

you realize the arm that isn't over your thigh is down, where you can't see, between his legs. stan is palming his dick through his pants, drawing grunts and little muffled sounds from his mouth. you're dizzy at the revelation, at the thought of stan being just as desperate and just as drunk as you are, so eager to get his mouth on you that he can't even bother to get his pants off.

"that feel good for you, honey?" you breathe, your legs twitching at stan licks sloppy stripes into you. a moan falls from your lips unbidden, but you keep talking, "you like making me come? you made me feel so good."

"fmmmph," stan says into you, making you jump slightly at the vibration. but you giggle softly when you loosen your grip on his hair to gently scratch his scalp instead, playing with his hair, messing it up. his head lolls wherever your hand moves it, but his mouth stays on you. his arm moves rhythmically, and though you can't see it, you can tell from the way his body rocks slightly that he's humping into his hand.

"so good," you say, more of a drunken note-to-self than anything, but stan makes another noise at that. you grind your hips into his mouth and stan's jaw goes slack, his tongue flat and still, so you can rock yourself against it. "ah, fuck, i'm sensitive—feels so good, stan. this makes you feel good too, huh? you wanna come like this?"

stan nods, miniscule. you still your hips and tug his hair once, just gently, so he knows he can move his mouth again. stan does, moaning softly against your skin, his tongue getting lazy and clumsy so he can focus more on the feeling of humping against his own hand. you do your part, playing up your moans, your gasps, your praising words, "fuck, that's good, your mouth is so hot, you're so good for me."

stan's hips twitch into his hands, grinding against it. his moans get louder, his mouth slips away from you so he can press his face against your inner thigh, and then his breath hitches, and he's—something jumps in your chest, warm and excited and affectionate as stan groans through his orgasm. he's pressing his hips hard into his hand. he's drooling onto your thigh. then he sighs, his shoulders untensing as those last few waves of pleasure slowly subside.

"there we go," you soothe, looking down at him though lidded eyes as he catches his breath. stan blinks, slowly, and peeks up at you. you smile when your eyes meet, and stan chuckles, presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your inner thigh. "was that good for you?"

"you kiddin'?" stan slurs, drunk off of beer and off of you, and you laugh as he groans and pushes himself up. he only stands tall enough to climb onto the bed, grunting at the pops from his joints. his voice is low and gravelly, even more than usual as he remarks, "ugh, jesus, my knees—it was worth it. holy smokes."

"holy smokes?" you laugh, shifting to the side to make room before stan collapses beside you with a gruff sigh. you're grinning as he takes you in his arms without question, tugging your naked body onto him. there's a warm, wet spot on his slacks, so you don't feel bad about straddling his thigh and tucking your head into the collar of his shirt. "ugh, you smell sweaty."

"really? you're gonna get on my case after all the work i just put in?" stan has one arm wrapped around you, and he massages his jaw with his other hand. but he's smiling, too.

"the work we put in," you correct him. then you sigh into his neck, finally relaxing. you press a kiss to his skin, and then you smile to yourself when he relaxes, too. "it's okay. i like how smelly you are."

"you're a real doll, you know that?" stan says, sarcastic. his hand rubs soothing lines up and down your spine.

"and you're so good for me," you drawl, low and coy. stan's hand freezes. you can practically hear his blush. you give it a few seconds.

then you burst out laughing, even when he shoves you off him and rolls on top to press you into the mattress as revenge, threatening you to "keep that pretty mouth shut before i shut it for you!" but stan is grinning above you, a little shy, but giddy. there's a warmth in his eyes that makes you tug him down for a kiss. it's drunken and clumsy and messy, with way too much tongue. it's perfect.

(mostly) nsfw drunk stan headcanons:

okay starting off strong with something that's literally not a hc but i want to get beer drunk and smush my face into stan's beer gut. can you imagine. whaaat the fuck

stan gets sooo touchy when he's drunk. he's touchy all the time, he can barely even stand too far away from you, but when he's drunk he gets real clingy. he loves to pull you in by your hip, your waist, pressing kisses to the top of your head and grinning like an idiot when it makes you giggle

he's also so much more loose. he's able to be normal and casual around you sober, but drunk he's so openly giggly and playful and obsessed with you!!! he likes you so much!!!

he has two wolves...... the horny one jumps out so quick around you when he's had a few drinks what do you expect from someone with a dry spell as long as his

stan's so obsessed with making you feel good and get loud and he usually fulfills his praise kink that way. but when he's drunk and less hyperaware of how you feel, he's desperate for some outright verbal praise. he wants to be told he's good and he makes you feel good because it makes him feel sooo good

tried my best to make this reader gender-neutral but he's such a munch it's not even funny. again when he can focus less on you and more on his own oral fixation he can't NOT go down on you even when you're totally done. he loves how you taste. he could probably finish just from that, without touching himself at all.....

thanks so much for reading!!!

#WHY WAS I SHY TYPING THIS OUT #hope you enjoyed #i am writing a fic that will hopefully be out by november #but i feel bad i haven't posted anything in a bit so i whipped this up #chat did i cook #smut #my writing #my headcanons #gravity falls #stanley pines x reader #reader insert

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lowkeyremi · 1 year ago

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That's my man atsumu x fem!reader

notes: I needed to write smthing for my baby's birthday. fwb tsumu does smthing to a me (it'll end up with getting together bc im silly like that), the samu ver is here

Content: slight language, slightly suggestive, fluff

He smiled at her with those sex eyes of his. Yes, he's giving them to her and not you. Atsumu makes everything so hot and cold, it's hard to tell with him.

She giggles and he laughs too, entertaining her for some pussy. The 'why' is something you will never understand, not when you've had that man down on his knees, eating you out like he was on death row and you were his last meal.

Your hope is that both of their stupid asses feel your heated glare towards them. They don't notice it though, mainly because you're best friend pulls you out of your thoughts.

"The sooner you get over him the sooner my life becomes easier." Your best friend jokes. Their attempts at lightening your mood are ineffective. How could you be in a better mood when the man of your dreams only wants sex from you? You want him, badly, but he doesn't want you.

This was something you were aware of before sleeping with him. Yet, you took it lightly, and now here you are, pouting over him being with another girl.

"I know, it's just-"

They cut you off, "'it's different between us, he treats me better than his other fucks.' I've already heard the whole shebang." Your friend rolls their eyes with a quick smirk.

"He's a college frat boy, there's no way he was serious if he said something in bed. It was probably to set the mood." You know they're right, you're just being delusional. You want your relationship to be something it's not.

The rest of your day was pretty foul. Just as you thought it couldn't get worse it did. You had to present your presentation, because your partner who was supposed to do it has covid, and your other partner is so bad with public speaking that she freezes up.

Your favorite coffee is the only thing that brings you some joy to your day. You're seated in your favorite booth at your favorite cafe. You take small sips and check your social media feed. It's then when you hear your name being called out.

You don't bother to turn to look because you know who it is. He sits at your booth, unaware of the anger you feel currently.

"Don't you have someone's pussy to be buried into?" You ask with venom.

Atsumu gives you that cute little chuckle, you hate it so much right now. It feels like a tear to your pride.

"Only if it's yers." He suggests with a smirk.

"I'm really not in the mood right now Atsumu, why don't you go entertain that girl from bio." Shit, know he'll know and tease you. He'll probably cut things off with you and-

"Oh her? I was just tryin' to get her to do my presentation, but she turned me down." He says casually. This is probably the only time you'll be thankful for Atsumu's obliviousness.

"I could have helped you with it." He knows you're smart, and he would have asked you...

"There was no way I woulda asked ya. You always make me do the work, and only give me commentary on my work." He says sighing. You watch as he places those big rough hands of his under his chin.

He's so pretty, volleyball has not failed him once. Even though some of your friends hate his hair; you think it's cute.

Those eyes, so pretty and brown draw you in to him. Also his muscles are just right, he's not too buff but he's also not thin to the point you can't see anything.

"Yeah, it's called improving. I really hope you didn't think you'd get through college with a pretty face and money. College isn't just one big party. At least not for me." You lecture and Atsumu listens, he always listens.

"For starters I do my work now, I ain't slept with a teacher since freshman year which was almost two years ago. Thank you very much." He replies to the shade you send his way.

"Anyway, what is it that you wanted?" You ask with a sigh.

"I wanted to check up on ya s'all. My cupcake seemed a lil' outta it today." Fuck his perceptiveness.

"Just tired is all." Atsumu's eyes narrow at your response. Why'd you think you could lie to one of the biggest liars you know?

"The way ya were acting today wasn't as much 'oh gee im tired' but more like 'my sweetie pie tsumu-bear hasn't been paying me any attention.'"

"If you knew, then why where you trying to force it out of me?" You roll your eyes and look back to your phone as to avoid his gaze and your embarrassment.

"I just wanted to hear ya say it because yer so cute." Atsumu is going to be the death of you. He annoys you to no end.

"Just so ya know, I ain't been sleepin' with anyone besides you, sweetheart."

"How do I know you aren't a big fat liar?" The way he smiles when you hiss at him has your heart melting. Why? Why you?

"I'd be an idiot to sleep with someone else when I got the most beautiful girl in my bed all the time." It's so sweet and sincere, his voice is honest you can tell. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest, and that Atsumu shaped hole in your heart is slowly being filled.

"Yeah? What're you trying to say, Tsumu?" You peek up from your phone screen to look at his dark eyes. It catches you off guard slightly, the way he looks at you, like you put the stars in the damn sky.

"I knew ya were kinda clueless but this is something else. I want ya to be my girl."He clarifies and you stop breathing for a second. When you'd fantasize about this you'd never thought his confession would be calm. Atsumu is loud and obnoxious, so this quiet, calmness has caught you off guard.

"Is that a question or a demand?" You ask.

"Not a question, m'already confident in ya wanting me." He's prideful and sometimes it sucks but right now.. it's so hot.

"Okay then, I'm yours." You whisper quietly trying to grasp what you've just said.

"Good, best decision you'll ever make, cupcake." Cockiness is laced in his tone and you roll your eyes.

"I said to stop calling me that," You finally drop your gaze back to your phone, but you aren't even paying attention to the dimly-lit screen. Your brain is exploding right now.

"You're my man now." It finally registers.

"Sure am."

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu x you #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #hq atsumu #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff

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yuukirita · 7 days ago

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Just saw sparkling Bee. He's adorable BTW. But wouldn't this mean that that Bee's death will be a lot more painful and traumatizing for both the Autobots and Deceptions. They now have to watch someone who looks like their old friend grow up to adulthood while the original was never given a chance.

First off- thank you I know right he's so CUTE.

yeah- that version of the story... Yes. it is very angsty. HOWEVER...

I have my own angst that I wrote- its something like that happening in the SecondBee au.

New Bee starts as a sparkling. The gang haven't met sparkling Bee so... They find and take care of a sparkling that GROWS UP to look pretty much exactly like the friend they lost long ago...

I've written that part already and believe me it's SO SAD... you'll love it.

This au is creating so many other aus... I should make a... like a board for them. So people know what we're talking about cuz now there are layers.

the og DeceptiBee au, BabyDeceptibee au, BabyBee au, GhostBee au, SecondBee au, TwoBees au

So many of em... Thankfully I'm only writing two of those (for now... I'm very tempted to write a baby bee au) Drawing the others once in a while is much easier than to have to think about PLOT.

#awsering messages #tfone fanfiction #secondbee au

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choccy-milky · 2 months ago

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A few months back, I asked if it was okay to write using Clora and Seb. Finished the work - thought I'd lost it on my hard drive and a virus scan located it.

Not sure if it's sad or happy, but the basic premise of it is Clora getting frustrated/upset at Sebastian and Sebastian comforting her, Sebastian getting upset at a predicament Clora's in and Clora comforting him, and them both getting frustrated/upset and having to comfort each other.

If you'd rather I didn't post it, that's fine too, but just wanted to test the waters and double check that you'd be okay with it if I gifted it to you via AO3, or see if you wanted a sneak peak of it before posting it.

OMG im so happy you were able to find it and recover the work you did!!😭🙏 AND YES OF COURSE YOU CAN POST IT AAA I CANT WAIT TO READ IT!! you can DM it to me first if you want, but i also dont mind if you post it straight away on ao3!! IM LOOKING FORWARD TO IT SM AAARGHHHA💖💖💖IT SOUNDS ANGSTY WE LOVE THE HURT/COMFORT I HOPE MY HEART CAN HANDLE IT🥺💖💖TY AGAIN FOR USING CLORA AND SEB AND TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THEM😭

@sunshine-goblin AAA THANK YOU!!! im honoured its your fav fanfic AND ALSO THE LONGEST YOUVE READ BAHAHAA fr, when you say its as long as four books in lotr it rly makes me realize how insane i am😃👍 aw IM GLAD I COULD INSPIRE YOU TO DRAW MORE AND WRITE AS WELL😭 I was curious so i creeped you and everyone go look at their HL blog @sunshines-legacy your MC is so cute and so is your art🥹💖 as for tips on writing a longfic and brainstorming and motivation and stuff, my motivation was my brainrot and unhappiness with the canon story/ending LMAOO, and looking at the story of the game and playing around with what i was unhappy with/what i WISHED could have happened instead, was a lot easier than just coming up with plotlines from scratch. but something i highly recommend is just OUTLINING and making a timeline, one of my fav parts of writing was just putting on some cafe ambience in the background and doing stream of conscious type word documents where id just barf ideas and then worry about making it pretty later....like look at how many versions of the same chapter i have BAHAHA or like different renditions bc i couldnt decide if id wanna keep a scene/what order, so id make a timeline and keep smoothing things out until i was happy with it and whatnot

brainstorming is defs my fav part of the process and the most helpful part to me. just getting a blank document and writing stuff you want to happen without worrying about how it connects to the story, and then a lot of the times as i was doing that id just keep going and it would kinda tie itself together/id come up with a solution as i was writing / once the ideas kept flowing. so basically : TIMELINES AND OUTLINES I VERY MUCH RECOMMEND, but very low pressure and barebones ones. for example, this is what my outlines/brainstorming look like

its honestly just me talking to myself LMAO, and a lot of the time ill interject and be like "OH YEAH AND THEN THIS CAN HAPPEN" as the ideas come while im writing BAHAHA. its a super fun process and honestly nothing feels better than just getting hit with that flash of inspo, and since its all very low effort theres no pressure to actually write well and its just a chill fun time AND GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR OWN PROCESS / WRITING💖💖💖it can be difficult but HOPE U HAVE FUN TOO💖💖

@a-little-lysdexic WAIT REALLY?? LMFAOO OMG THATS CRAZY....SAME BRAIN...🤝🤝...that would trip me up so much if i were you omg BAHHAHA but aside from having similar tastes in names, IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY ART AS WELL, TYY💖💖💖

THANK YOUUU im glad you're liking it!!! and that its taking over your life BAHAHA💖💖 the video you're thinking of was by @silverxstardust for chapter 13 of my fic, and you can watch the video here! (AND TY AGAIN TO SILVERXSTARDUST FOR DOING THIS!)

youtube

#ask #yapped so much #IM SO EXCITED TO READ YOUR FIC ANON U DONT UNDERSTANDDD #also for anyone interested in updates on my living situation i am currently in a dingy and sketchy af motel #but we went to a viewing for a place yesterday and we loved it so we just paid the deposit immediatley and started filling out the forms #we paid the deposit to put us on top but its still not confirmed whether we have it but I HOPE SO GAHH ITS THE PERFECT PLACE #and the perfect location we dont drive and theres literally a grocery store right outside #we wouldnt be able to move in till october 1st tho so all my stuff will just stay with uhaul and im going back to my moms on tuesday #I NEED MY MOMMYYYYYY ive been eating like such trash LMFAO #and between hopping between hotels and airbnbs and taking ubers to our viewings #me and my roommate have spent like the equivalent of 1 months rent just in the span of like a week #feelsbadman #we dont think about that tho tralalalaala #now that we have a place i can relax and stop apartment hunting and start drawing and writing again woo

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

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AH I've been waiting for requests to be open! i love love loveeee your writing!! I've been in dire need (if you feel like writing it lol) of reader comforting jamie after the locker room scene w his dad at wembley.. like maybe instead of roy hugging him the reader swoops in? you do you! thanks!! <3

Listened to 17 Pushing 24 by Sabrina Sterling while writing this. Highly recommend ✌️🥲

i know what i’m doing

Sometimes Jamie wonders if you two are attracted to each other due to your compelling need to take care of everything.

It certainly was difficult at first, both of you with residual issues due to your upbringing. His as the only son of a single mother, yours as the oldest daughter of a large family.

Those types of child-caretakers aren’t always compatible. Jamie’s much more lighthearted about the way he tries to control everything, and you’re more serious.

You’d think it would be easier, both of you taking care of each other, except for the small fact that neither of you were capable of accepting help from the other.

It came to a head one evening when Jamie came home to you crying in the laundry room, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the tasks you had yet to complete before going to bed.

“Love, I can help you,” Jamie had said.

“No! It’s my laundry and my responsibility and you already have enough to do without me burdening you even more,” you replied before dissolving into more tears.

So yeah, it was a whole thing. It involved therapy and everything.

But you’re moving past it. You’re both getting to a point where each of you can receive the same love that you’re giving, however strange it may feel. Jamie even let you stay home from work to take care of him when he was sick a couple weeks ago, something that was pretty much unheard of up to this point.

You’re channeling the need to control things in healthy ways, like having all of AFC Richmond over to Jamie’s giant house for potluck-style family dinners. Or hosting non-video game nights, where FIFA is strictly banned as a form of entertainment. Or themed outings where everyone had to dress as something that shared the first letter of their name and then go see a movie at the local theater.

Stuff like that.

You’re the brains, Jamie is the execution. You can see Isaac side-eyeing him a couple times, making mental notes about temporary captains in the event that he can’t play a match.

Jamie’s gone from Richmond’s resident prick to Richmond’s resident morale-booster.

He comes home one evening with brighter eyes than normal.

“Babe,” he calls before he’s even in the door, “Coach said I can go back to being a prick again.”

“Ted said that?” you ask from your spot on the couch. You’re laying down length-wise with your legs dangling off the end.

“Fuck no,” Jamie replies, “Roy.”

“Oh,” you say as Jamie plops his bags down. You sit up a little so he can have a spot on the couch. He pats his lap so you lay back down, head on his thigh.

“Roy said that Ted fucked me up, so ‘when it’s appropriate’” (he uses air quotes) “I can be a prick to the other team.”

“That’s nice, babe,” you say, “but how do you know when to do that?”

Jamie shrugs. “Coach said he’d give me a signal. Don’t know what it is, though.”

You say, “hm,” then lapse into comfortable silence, Jamie’s hand running through your hair.

—

The prick signal worked so much better than you could have thought. It’s the best. You see Jamie go from playing defensively to being completely offensive, screwing with the other team’s heads. You scream and clap as he scores, while Keeley practically throttles you with joy.

Now it’s late after the game, and the lads are all over at Jamie’s. They’re absolutely exhausted, but buzzing with energy. It isn’t until about 1am that they disperse to the various guest bedrooms and pass out on top of each other. You catch a glimpse of Dani cuddling Jan Maas who’s asleep in a starfish position as Colin sneaks in to draw on their faces with sharpie.

“Don’t tell anyone it was me,” he whispers. You zip your lips and head to the master bedroom and pretty much fall onto the right side of the bed.

Jamie comes in shortly after, saying something about Isaac telling a bedtime story. He burrows under the covers and you quietly shriek because he’s placed his ice-cold hands on your ribcage.

“How are you so cold?” you whisper.

Jamie shrugs sleepily. “Dunno,” he whispers back. “Got ice in my veins, I guess.”

You smile. “You’re tired, aren’t you babe?”

Jamie shakes his head and stifles a yawn. “Nah, ain’t tired. Thinkin’ about our match against Man City.”

He says it casually. Too casually.

You see, both you and Jamie have this thing where the more nonchalantly you say something, the more important it is.

You prop yourself up a bit so you can face him and scratch his head. He sighs and leans in.

“You nervous?” you ask.

Jamie shakes his head. “Not to see the team. Lookin’ forward to seeing Pep. It’s just…” he trails off.

You whisper, “Yeah. I know. Whatever happens, I’m here. Don’t forget that. I’m here no matter what.”

Jamie says, “hm,” and then he’s asleep.

—

You’re running.

You’re running faster than any of the boys on the pitch had run the entire match, and you’re pushing past people in a way that Keeley would later describe as “absolutely fucking feral.”

It happened like this:

The game was over. Richmond lost to Man City.

You were on your way to see Jamie and the rest of the team.

You were, maybe, three floors away? when Rebecca got a text from Ted, showed it to you, and before you knew it you were flying down to the guest locker room to find Jamie.

Of course his dick father would show up to make this day worse. Of course he would.

You’re ducking under security and pushing your way to the locker room in a flurry of motion, then immediately stop.

It’s silent, absolutely silent.

And so still.

No one moves a muscle as your eyes land on Jamie, clinging to Roy like he’s a lifeline. Roy. Roy Kent, self-proclaimed Jamie-hater and staunch advocate against physical touch.

Jamie’s eyes are squeezed shut, but they flutter open at the sound of your tentative footsteps. He lets go of Roy for a moment, but only so that you can grab him in the next.

“Right,” says Roy, “Everybody get the fuck out!”

There are no complaints as the lads hurriedly grab their bags and exit the locker room.

Roy nods in your direction before leaving, and Beard mouths, “take your time.” You’re not sure where Ted’s gone off to.

Jamie feels like he’s going to collapse if he stands any longer, crushing you in the strongest grip you’ve ever felt.

“Oi,” you say gently, “let’s sit down, yeah? You don’t have to let go.”

So now you’re on the bench in Jamie’s lap, scratching his head in the way he likes, waiting for him to break the silence.

“Fucking stupid,” he says, voice muffled.

You ask, “What?” because surely that can’t be what he just said.

“I said it’s fucking stupid,” Jamie says, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m a fucking adult. Don’t need to be crying about stupid shit, especially not in front of the lads.”

“Oh, right,” you say before you can stop yourself, “because crying after your dick father tried to swing at you when you set boundaries for the first time ever is a completely unreasonable response.”

Jamie is still in your arms and you cringe. Curse your stupid, logical tongue.

Jamie finally says, “Didn’t think about it like that.” He sighs. “It’s just fuckin’ embarrassing, innit? Him showing up here like that. Didn’t need the lads seeing that.”

You kiss his forehead.

“The only person it’s embarrassing for is him. Not you. You’re absolutely fine, Jaim. If anything, the boys are going to look at you better for finally understanding the shit you had to grow up with.”

Jamie nods, but you’re not sure if he believes you.

“Jamie,” you say firmly, “It’s not your fault. You handled it the best way it could have been handled. You did a great job.”

Those words seem to do something to Jamie, and his face takes on an expression you’ve never seen before

He asks, “You think so?” in such a forlorn manner than you have the sudden urge to find James Tartt and kick him in the balls with steel-toed shoes. You briefly wonder if Roy and Beard would like to join you.

“Yes,” you reply forcefully, “Yes Jamie. You did a wonderful job in a shitty situation and I’m very, very proud of you.”

Jamie doesn’t reply, just holds you tighter if that’s even possible. He takes a deep shuddering breath, but it’s the first real one he’s taken this entire time.

“I told you I’m here no matter what,” you say. “Just like all the times you’ve been here for me. Now I’m here for you.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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knickynoo · 3 months ago

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Well, I was sufficiently enabled for the idea, so here it is: ✨Alex P. Keaton's Top Neurodivergent Moments✨

The funny thing is that the amount of time I put into scrolling through my encyclopedic mental inventory of Family Ties scenes, compiling these moments in a list, making gifs, and finding past gifsets/analysis to link back to makes creating this post one of my most neurodivergent moments. Good for me.

These will be organized by season (easier for me than trying to rank on a scale) and are in no way ALL of the moments. I'd need like...15 posts for that. Also, tumblr only allows 30 images/gifs per post, so I'm going to include links to past posts when possible.

ENJOY!

• Alex gets his first-ever failing grade and immediately decides to quit school

Exactly what it says. Alex strolls into college all bright-eyed and confident and ends up a broken shell of a guy just a week or so later. The prototypical Gifted Kid from the moment he learned to speak, Alex cannot handle anything less than perfection. Getting the first F of his life shatters his entire self-image, and he wants to drop out of college entirely.

• Alex's friend Doug announces he's getting married, and Alex spirals into despair. As one does.

The entirety of the "Best Man" episode is one big Alex displaying neurodivergent behaviors moment, honestly. There are a whole lot of Alex-centered plots that are set into motion because A Change happens, and he just cannot deal with it, and this is one of the best examples. Alex is so distraught at the suddenly altered dynamic that he wanders the house like a lost soul—sad and confused and needy. He walks in on Steven's shower just to give him a hug, offers to go shopping with Mal and play dolls with Jen, and also draws up a seven-year contract for his other friends to sign to ensure they stick to their regularly scheduled card games, lest they also run off to get married and destroy his life.

• Alex P. Keaton: child development expert

When faced with the news of another sibling on the way, Alex has some very nurturing advice at the ready for when the baby is crying.

• The Keatons all laugh at a funny story. Alex is not amused.

This is one of my favorite Alex scenes of the series. Uncle Rob shares a memory of the time Steven was young and got in trouble because he started rebelling against the system and refused to write his name in the designated spot on his school test papers. The family shares a hearty laugh. Alex, king of black-and-white thinking and lover of rules, is deeply upset.

I love him so much. He genuinely cannot see how they're enjoying such a story. The Name Spot is for names. And his father dared to write in the Not For Names Spot?? Jail for Steven.

He's so ridiculously autistic.

• Alex's favorite childhood toy

It was a cardboard box. I can't quite put into words why this sets off my ND radar, but it does. Maybe it's the being attached to unusual items thing that's common with autism? The intense fixations that make other people go ????

The Alex and Ba-ba plotline provides some wonderful Alex Lore.

• Mr. Mustache

Yeah, those intense fixations? In the "Fool for Love" episode, Alex grows a mustache and legitimately cannot speak about anything else for the several days that follow. He's asked to present a speech at Mallory's homecoming dance and centers his entire speech around his mustache. He's unable to have a conversation that doesn't involve mustaches. It's incredible.

• Everything in "Matchmaker"

Alex is so sweet in this one. After Mallory comes home crying after a bad date, Alex promises to help her find a great guy. Unfortunately, putting someone who struggles socially and with processing emotions in charge of your love life isn't exactly a great fit. Alex uses the power of science to craft a formula to find Mallory's perfect match (he isn't), then tags along on their date and helps foster a very natural environment (it isn't) for the relationship to flourish (it doesn't).

The episode ends with a great scene between Alex and Mallory that shows just how well Mal understands the inner-workings of her big brother's head.

• Divorce is tough. Alex has some advice.

The Keaton kids are shocked to learn that their Uncle Rob is divorcing their Aunt Maureen. As Jen and Mallory reel from the information, Alex helps to reframe things.

He then pulls out the Special Interest Card and compares the divorce of their aunt and uncle to a "failed merger, not unlike the breakup of the phone company—although obviously less emotional. Nothing more than a natural fluctuation in the marketplace of love and marriage."

And the thing is, he IS impacted by the news. He just hasn't the slightest clue how to actually process it. So, a simple failed merger it is!

• You had one job

Mallory needs some croissants for a fancy get-together she's having with her poetry class. Alex helpfully offers to go pick them up.

Now, I debated about this one because there's part of me that's like, "Hmm, did Alex purposely do this to annoy Mallory?" Is this just a jerk move? But you know what? It stays on the list because the whole "I personally don't like this thing and struggle to see how anyone else could. Therefore, I will get the thing I like" is (for me) a relatable aspect of being ND.

• Every single second of "A, My Name is Alex"

For real, though. This episode is a deep dive into how Alex became the person he is, and it is FILLED with "flashbacks" of an intensely neurodivergent child whose issues were made worse by the people around him. (Mostly teachers and peers. Steven and Elyse did their best with him, but I do also have some critiques of the way they parented him). Anyway, he represses his emotions to the point of a meltdown

And then there's this

Full coin gifset here. Also, I made posts on the full episode, which can be found here and here.

• "Alex has a weird body"

That's Mallory's explanation to Andy as to why Alex can't help her when she needs someone to model one of her latest clothing creations. She says Alex's head is too big for his body, and those words, unfortunately, find their way back to him. In a mini plot reminiscent of the mustache one, Alex proceeds to obsess over the comment.

And I mean, I think being told your head is too big for your body would make anyone insecure, but it's the way Alex handles it. He's unable to have regular conversations for a while because he can't stop fixating on the size of his noggin'.

Both of the "Read it and Weep" episodes fit in this list, to be honest

• An accurate statement by Lauren

I've got to include this because it really does neatly condense a lot of who Alex is

So true, bestie.

And then, to wrap this whole thing up, there's all of this

And this is just what I can fit in this here post without going over the limit lol. Obsessed with the way MJF played Alex.

Thanks for reading ✌️

This is me with Alex, btw

#family ties #alex p keaton #apk #sometimes you have to reach to cobble together an autism headcanon for a character. do a lot of projecting ya know?#not the case with this guy #it's all just there

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mewtwoandme · 5 months ago

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For some reason it’s a ton easier for me to write gore/murder/all that fun dark stuff than actually draw it, so I just wanna say congrats to you for that, I can’t draw much more than scars without getting queasy lmao

Yeah, I assume it's a lot easier to stomach when you read it, describing what's happening with words compared to seeing graphic visuals

...unless you're someone with an extremely vivid imagination like me, then sometimes even reading doesn't save you from the detailed imagery your mind conjures up XD

#answered ask #laina-danger

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 11 months ago

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Day 3 — Christmas Tree Farm

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 500

Contents & Warnings || Fluff — no warnings.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

During the festive season, having a Christmas tree was a must for you and Bucky. It symbolized the essence of Christmas and brought joy to your shared home. Without the majestic presence of a beautifully decorated tree standing tall and proud in the living room, your house would feel empty and cold.

Hence, it had become an eager tradition for you and Bucky to visit a Christmas tree farm and cut a perfect tree for your home.

As you arrived at the tree farm, a picturesque scene unfolded before your eyes. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen the night before, gracefully covering the ground and adorning the array of trees that stretched far and wide. The air was brisk, and the sky a crystal-clear clarity.

Amidst other families and couples, all on their quest for their ideal Christmas tree, you and Bucky equipped a hand saw and other necessities from the farm employees.

Hand in hand, you strolled along the rows of fir, spruce, and pine trees, considering their size, shape, and variety. The aroma of them a pleasant smell.

“So, what kind of tree are we aiming for this year, doll?” Bucky questioned as you traversed the paths.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” you responded, examining the diverse options before you. “How about we go all out this year? The biggest one we can fit in our living room? With our new house, we do have space for it.”

“I like that idea,” Bucky murmured against your temple, sealing his agreement with a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Upon reaching the outer edges of the farm, you found yourself torn between several larger trees. After careful consideration, you pointed to one with enthusiasm.

“I think this one,” you declared, running your gloved hand over the pine needles. “It’s a bit smaller than the others but much fuller and plumper.”

Bucky, deep in contemplation, tilted his head as he pictured the tree in your living room. Choosing the perfect Christmas tree was serious business for both of you.

“Yeah, this is the one,” Bucky nodded in agreement.

With Bucky taking charge of cutting the tree, you offered encouragement from the sidelines, occasionally lending a hand when needed.

“I think it’s about to come down, doll. Watch out!”

The tree fell with a soft thud; the snow beneath cushioned the impact. Together, you maneuvered it onto a blue tarp for easier transport back to the car.

After getting the tree wrapped in netting and completing the purchase, the staff assisted you in securing it on top of your car.

“I’m so happy, Bucky!” you exclaimed, embracing him tightly, bouncing lightly on your feet. “I can’t wait to decorate our tree, our house, our life.

“Hey, slow down,” he chuckled, hugging your waist and drawing you closer. “We’ve got the entire month of December for all those things and more, doll. But let’s start by taking this tree home and decorate our house.”

“Hmm, yes,” you murmured before sharing a kiss. “And then lots of Christmas goodies,” kiss, “Christmas movies,” kiss, “all the Christmas joy,” kiss, “and so much more.”

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

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lynchs-finch · 9 days ago

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Mixing Business With Pleasure*✧:*₊ °

An N$FW Ross Lynch x gn!Reader Fic

Summary: Living together has done wonders for you and Ross's relationship, in large part thanks to having access to each other's bodies any time you want. Recently, though, Ross has been brushing you aside in favor of interviews and business meetings. Like any good partner, though, you choose not to get mad at him. Instead, you're getting even. Word Count: 4,086 Rating: Mature (Oral Sex, Fingering) A/N: If I had a nickel for every time a picture of Ross in his underwear inspired me to write an x Reader smut, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot and it's weird that it's only happened twice.

✎✎✎

You were going to suck Ross’s dick in the middle of a business meeting and you were going to enjoy every second of it. He’d be embarrassed, sure, and you’d most likely cost him a brand deal, but Ross had it more than coming to him after the way he had been treating you the past few months.

For the majority of your time living together, you and Ross have been content to get down and dirty anywhere in your house that could fit the both of you. There just never seemed to be a reason to turn down Ross offering to let you explore his chiseled body, nor did he seem to find a reason to turn down pleasuring yours.

This more than okay arrangement between the two of you was recently disrupted when the wider world decided to bring Ross back into the public eye. Even though he was yours first, the unyielding capitalist machine required that his time be eaten up by interviews, promos, and talks about brand sponsorships before you knew it. So now the sexy, usually half naked man who only wants you even though everybody and their mother wants him doesn’t have fuck you ‘cause some stupid unpaid intern named Marcus or Karen or Reese was interviewing him for a newspaper nobody reads because it’s not the 1960s anymore.

Needless to say, Ross’s new schedule bugged you a bit.

You’d brought it up to him over and over again, but his response was the same each time. There was always “too much to do right then,” and he promised that he’d “make it up to you later.” You would then point out the fact he never did, and he wouldn’t say anything- just make those sad puppy eyes like not touching you was the hardest thing he’d ever been forced to do. So, with sadness in your heart and heat in your pants, you’d make a joke about giving him head in the middle of a zoom call to lighten the mood, the both of you under the impression that you’d never do something like that.

After that day’s iteration of the conversation, though, you had an epiphany- why shouldn’t you suck him off in front of a bunch of rich, stuck-up Disney executives? Maybe it’d finally draw his attention away from the people stuffing his pockets each day and back to the person who should be sucking what was underneath them every night. Plus, if time was the issue, there was really nothing for him to do but multi-task, right?

So, at 3:58 PM, you sat yourself down on a beanbag in Ross’s studio and waited for him to walk in. Sure enough, there he was a minute later in his delightfully odd business attire.

“Hey,” His stressed and vaguely dissociated pre-meeting face gave way to a smile and wave once he noticed you, “You hanging around for the meeting?”

Before responding, you made a show of shamelessly checking him out. His button-down shirt and blazer looked nice, and his tie was alright, but what you were really looking at were his pants–or lack thereof. Ross’s philosophy of never wearing pants unless strictly necessary applied even to high-stakes meetings with Disney, which made your plan much easier.

“Yeah,” You laughed as he looked down at himself, faking shock at the fact he wasn’t wearing pantss, “I’ll stay quiet, don’t worry.”

Ross gave you a thumbs up as he walked over to his desk. There was no treat quite like watching him walk away, especially since he’d started buying his underwear two sizes too small. The pair he was wearing today, some red-and-black striped Hollister briefs, would’ve hugged his figure even if they were his size, but the added tightness meant you could see the outline of everything.

Ross hopped into his desk chair, logging into his laptop and joining the zoom meeting. He slipped on his rosegold over-ear headphones, humming the opening notes of Rumors as he plugged them in. Biding your time, you watched him open the meeting and plotted your route in.

He was sitting how he always did—leaned back in his chair with his legs spread wide—more than enough room for you to kneel between. His tall desk left you at little risk of bumping your head and the carpeted flooring combined with his noise-canceling headphones meant he wouldn’t be able to hear you coming. Really, all there was to it was pulling his underwear down and sucking him off fast enough that he got hard before he came to his senses and sent you away. In your time with him, you’d learned that it’d take a forklift to pull him out of you once he was into it, even if it meant Little Mister Disney and his subordinates seeing his orgasm face and bare lower half live in living color

After about ten minutes had passed, and Ross’s conversation had gone from boring introductory small talk to boring business discussion, you quietly slid off the beanbag and began crawling on all fours. Though you knew first hand that Ross’s headphones were powerful enough to block out any noise you may have made, there was still a certain kind of thrill in trying to sneak across the floor. Like you were an expert spy or thief, except the “package” you were after was far too thick and heavy to ever dream of stealing. Simply running your fingers (and younge) over it was all you could hope to achieve and all you could ever want.

In no time, you had gotten yourself into position without being noticed and now rested on your knees, eye-to-eye with Ross’s cock. It was covered by his underwear, but it’s prominent head, thick trunk, and balls were all clearly outlined. You looked away from it and up at him for a moment, almost laughing aloud to yourself at how completely unaware he was. Fully in business mode, equipped with a tight brow, slight frown, and absolutely zero awareness of what was about to happen next.

Keeping your eyes on his face, you gripped the waistband of his underwear with both of your hands at his hips and yanked them down as far as you could. You watched his eyes all but pop out of his head and heard the fabric of his underwear rip as his legs jumped up out of surprise.

“What the f-” Ross shouted, almost cursing at the top of his lungs. Undeterred by your boyfriends surprise, you dove your head in between his legs, pulling his (now torn) underwear the rest of the way off. You lapped his soft dick up into your mouth, feeling it begin to harden as your ran your tongue over the tip a few times.

“Mr. Lynch, is everything alright?” You heard somebody ask.

“Yeah, just…” Ross’s voice shook as you firmly ran your tongue up the underside of his shaft. You could tell he was suppressing a moan as he continued, “Just my cat.”

Your lips curled into a smile—or, as much of one as they could with a dick in your mouth. You didn’t have a cat, but you did have him right where you wanted him. There was no way he was gonna push you off of him now that he was hard, and he wouldn’t just ditch the negotiations, either.

Ross proved you right instantly, going right back into business talk as slowly bobbed your head back and forth on his cock. You went easy on him for the moment, moving slowly, keeping your tongue only slightly involved, and not having more than half of his 8-inches in your mouth at once. Him thinking this was a treat for him would only add to the pleasure of humiliating him.

A few minutes passed, and Ross was laughing and chatting as if you weren’t there. You took this opportunity to pick up the pace, occasionally stopping to run your tongue over the head of his dick, slurping up a little bit of precum and letting the saliva drooling out of your mouth take its place. Above you, his voice again began to take on a shaky quality, and he even let a moan slip out which he tried (and failed) to cover with a cough.

Just as Ross fixed his lips to apologize for his sudden “cough,” you took a deep breath, opened your throat, and dove mouth-first into Ross’s crotch, taking all of Ross’s cock into your mouth as quickly as you could. The experience was familiar to you—the coarse underside of his cock running against your tongue until the tip slammed into your with your soft palate. Then, you went down even harder, feeling its girth press against the walls of your throat until his balls were against your chin, your nose was deep in his bush, and all 8-inches of Ross were squeezed into your mouth.

The chair shook as Ross pounded an armrest with his fist, letting out a strangled groan—as if whatever curse he was about to shout had lodged itself in his throat the same way his cock was lodged in yours. He looked up to the sky, shakily exhaling as his thighs tensed against your cheeks.

With a unstable voice and exasperated affect, Ross apologized for his outburst and continued speaking. You contracted your throat around his dick periodically as he did, shivering each time his voice wavered thanks to you.

Finally, you had to succumb to your human limitations and come up for air, though strands of saliva kept your mouth connected to him. The lush, earthy scent of Ross’s soap filled your nose for a moment as you inhaled, but there was no time to enjoy it. You were back on his cock in no time, with even more air in your lungs and vigor in your heart.

Feeling himself inside your throat again, Ross’s thighs brushed against your cheeks and ears as they began jittering feverishly, shaking his chair left and right as his legs shook seemingly against his will. You pushed your head further into his crotch and wrapped your arms around his thighs so he wouldn’t shake you off, but as your hands touched his lower inner thighs, an unexpected, shuddering moan leapt out of Ross.

“Mr. Lynch, are you certain you’re alright?” A different man on the Zoom asked, “Your face looks rather… flushed.”

You paused for a moment, curious about his reaction to being touched there. As you pulled back from his dick, you couldn’t help but wonder…

“Fi-fi-fine! I’m good, I’m good.” Ross stammered out, recomposing himself in your moment of stillness, “Let’s just keep talking business, yeah? What were you saying before about, uh, Search Engine—Oh my god!”

Ross shouted as you licked down his shaft, simultaneously rubbing and squeezing his thick thighs. His legs jolted up involuntarily, but your grip held him down as you circled both of his balls in a figure eight with your tongue before running your tongue wildly over the area between his balls and hole.

Fitting for his large size, you had to wrangle Ross like a bull as you went in on his underside. He gulped and grunted as you licked and lapped the area’s sweat and saliva. Even though Ross had just showered, down there had already begun to smell and taste like man in the delicious way only Ross’s body seemed to be. Becoming just the slightest bit greedy, you pressed your tongue into him hard, licking up to the skin between his balls.

This time, your grip wasn’t enough to hold Ross down. Almost instantly, his legs shot straight out, kicking the desk legs and propelling his rolling chair back. Several pens and pencils clattered against the floor, followed by the bang with which the keyboard fell and the clinking of various keys buncing away away.

Now, Ross was in the center of the room, rock hard with his entire lower half exposed. His knees had hiked up and he’d rolled back a bit, giving you (and every executive) a full view of his glistening cock, big balls, and tight hole. You expected him to immediately reach to cover himself, but after he remained dazed from your tongue’s magic for more than a moment, you advanced on him with your proverbial trump card in hand.

Your hands and knees thumping against the ground amid the cacophony of confused and objectioning shouts from the executives, you gathered up as much saliva as you could in your mouth. Once in range, you stuck your pointer and index fingers into your mouth, twisting them around until they were dripping wet, and yanked them out only to shove them into Ross’s hole before he could even register you were there.

Ross’s whole body shook, and he let out a long, drawn out moan as you slightly curved the tips of your fingers. With no mercy, you again stuffed his cock into your throat, causing him to cry out.

“God—Fuck!” All decorum had left Ross’s body once you entered it, leaving his pleasure-seeking lizard brain as the sole pilot of his actions. He reached one of his arms down between his shaking legs to grip your hair, forcing your head back and forth on his cock at leisure. Each time you adjusted your fingers, his grip briefly tightened and a low grunt radiated from his body.

Finally, though you were elated to be fucking Ross again, you had to remind him who was boss. You pulled your two fingers out of him, redistributing the little saliva on them onto your ring and pinky fingers. Indelicately and haphazardly, you shoved all four fingers back into Ross’s now-loosened hole.

With an piercing, high-pitched whine, Ross’s back instantly curled into an arch, his feet slamming into the ground shortly after. For a moment, you thought you had given him too much to handle—that he was about to come to his senses and chew you out for what you were doing.

Thankfully, Ross was too much of a slut for that

Once his planted feet gave him the leverage, Ross thrusted off of your finger and into your throat with vigor. The head of Ross’s cock slamming into the back of your throat still caused to gag and recoil a bit, but you were no amateur. You continued to let him face-fuck you as you finger-fucked him with intensity.

At first you tried to get back into the grove you had under the desk, but Ross’s movements while being fingered were far too erratic. He kept thrusting back and forth mindlessly, so his dick was never where you expected it to be in your mouth. Eventually, you tried pulling back to lick the underside of his cock, but it just ended up slapping you on the cheek in a way that was surprisingly arousing, even if it stung a little.

Seeing as conventional dick-sucking tactics weren’t working, you loosely grabbed his dick in your freehand, looking up at him as he continued frantically jerking his cock up into your hand and ass back down onto your fingers. His eyes were shut with his mouth slightly agape, allowing grunts and whines to slip out along with the occasional expletive. It took all your mental strength not to stand up and start pulling at his hair and shirt, both ruffled in a way that was sexually agitating beyond belief.

You dug your fingers deeper into Ross’s hole until your knuckles were against his ass cheeks. Ross shook and whimpered, forgoing thrusting into your hand entirely and pressing his ass down on your fingers with all his might. Gently, you curled your fingers and adjusted the position of your hands, listening to his grunts and waiting for-

“Holy—uff—shit!” Ross’s back arched and his forearms bulged as your fingers grazed his prostate.

Spurred on by this reaction, you continued pleasuring Ross with the fingers one hand and jerking him off with the other. His big reaction to the initial contact simmered down into rubbing his ass back and forth on your fingers, groaning and letting out quivering pleads for you to keep going.

His dick was stiff and throbbing, threatening to blow as precum drizzled down the sides and onto your hand. You slowed down the pace in an attempt to delay the inevitable, taking a full second to pull your grip from the base of his cock to the tip, and another one pulling it back down.

Try as you might’ve, though, Ross was too close to the edge to put off his orgasm much longer. After only a few strokes, Ross’s shouts reverberated off of the walls of his studio.

“I’m– Fuck! I’m g-gonna– Fu-u-ck!”

Taking this as the cue to show your final tr, you simultaneously let go of Ross’s cock, lifted yourself up to position your mouth over it, and abruptly shoved your fingers into him so hard your knuckles wound up in his hole.

Just as you’d hoped, Ross’s hips sprung forward from the sudden pain and pleasure, driving his dick most of the way down your open and ready throat. Once his hips had extended as far forward as they could, you reached forward and gripped the seat of the chair. Then, with all your might, you pulled it toward you and pushed your head down, again deepthroating him and forcing him back into his seat.

After a moment, a cacophony of dull slapping sounds and frantic moans erupted above you. You looked up to find Ross flailing his body around, as if he were going to explode if he didn’t externalize the ecstasy of being deep in your throat that very second. His torso twisted and jerked, his legs bounced up and down independently of one another, and his fists clenched and unclenched as they alternate between punching and slapping the arms of the chair. Not to mention his hips, trying desperately to thrust even a millimeter deeper in your mouth.

Of course, his reaction only served encourage you, and you wondered what else you could do to make him squirm before he came. Just as you were getting ready to stick your thumb in him too, Ross’s chair creaked loudly. Before you could realize the sound came from a sudden shifting of weight, your head was suddenly squeezed tight from all sides, pulled in further onto Ross’s cock (if that was even possible.) You threw your hands up to your head, trying and figure out what was happening as you tried to suppress your panic and growing urge breathe, and the meaty smack that accompanied the thick, trunk-like objects your palms collided with clued you in immediately.

In his pleasure-driven frenzy, Ross had tilted his entire lower body upwards and wrapped both his legs around your head in a desperate attempt to bury his cock even deeper in your throat. He squeezed his legs in several times, grunting in exasperation as he failed to will himself more dick to put inside you. The sound of fist-meeting-chair filled your ears again, followed by him using his arms to push himself off the chair and up into you.

The poor, poor chair squeaked and buckled as all 170-pounds of Ross landed back onto it. Still, in spite of its cries, a carnally unsatisfied Ross pushed himself again. And again. And again. Until Ross’s greed finally caught up with him. He’d pushed himself too far this time, and instead of his plump, saliva-drenched ass cheeks landing safely on the chair, they brushed against its edge and sent it careening backwards as all 170-pounds of Ross plus your head went plummeting toward the ground.

You weren’t quite certain if the chair slamming into the wall came before or after Ross’s tailbone thudded against the ground, but you were certain that the sound following both of them, that of the sustained wail Ross let out, eclipsed them both in volume and length. It rebounded off of the walls in his office, seeming only to amplify in volume over time. He was putting so much into his shout, you swore you could feel his vocal chords vibrating in his legs.

For a moment it seemed like Ross was seriously hurt, but as his cry tapered off into a gasp and his thighs tensed against your jaw and cheeks, you realized his noise wasn’t that of pain, but of an imminent orgasm. This further proved to be the case when Ross’s cock, still lodged in your throat began to twitch, threating a milky explosion any second.

Ross’s voice filled the room again. A high, breathy whisper of your name that rapidly deepened into a guttural grunt. The firm, immobilizing grip of his thighs devolved into a trembling, pleading suggestion of where to keep your head. His stiff, trembling cock expanding into a force threatening to open your throat from the inside out. All as he toppled over the edge into his orgasm.

The first rope of cum hit the back of your throat like a bullet. What felt like a whole pint of semen dripped down your esophagus as Ross gasped and trembled above you. He tried squeezing his legs around your head again, but found himself unable to settle his trembling legs. Instead, he reached down and gripped your hair with both of his hands, ensuring you wouldn’t get off his cock until he was ready as his dick prepared to shoot off more rounds of cum.

Two… Three… Four… The subsequent shots came at a similar speed, together coating part of your throat with Ross’s thick semen. His cock was too far down your throat to taste the sweet, tanginess of his semen. Silently, you prayed that you might get a taste when Ross pulled out, though that seemed a long ways away.

Five… Six… Seven… The next few ropes of cum fell short of reaching the back of your throat, and instead fell straight down your esophagus. The sensation was not unlike swallowing water down the wrong pipe, except you had to suppress your urge to cough as to not waste any of your dwindling supply of air.

Eight… Nine… Ten… By now, Ross’s cum wasn’t “shooting” so much as dribbling off his cock and down your throat. Still, even as his balls were emptied and his moans gave way to slight whimpers and heavy breathing, Ross’s cock kept twitching like it was trying to shoot out more cum and his hand kept you firmly in place.

It wasn’t until a fully his cock was finally still that Ross let you go. Not a millisecond later, you pulled back and settled on all fours, gasping for breath and swallowing Ross’s cum down fully. Like you hoped for, hints of Ross’s cum grazed your tongue on the way up. You couldn’t help smiling a content, saliva-coated smile.

After taking a moment to recuperate, you shifted onto your knees and looked over Ross, taken fully out of commision. He was laid out on his back, his body unmoving and pinkened from exertion. His stare was blank and mouth ajar, drooling just a little. Were it not for the rise and fall of his chest as he took breath after labored breath, you’d fear you sucked the soul straight out of his body through his cock.

His cock. The not-so-little monster was still fully hardened and pointing skyward, as if it were begging for just a little more action from you even as the man it was attached to was worn out and developing gnarly bruise on his lower back. Your spit still coated it thoroughly, dripping both down his shaft and straight off his tip onto the floor. You almost got lost in watching it, but reminded yourself that you were here to teach Ross a lesson, not just give a killer blowjob.

You crawled over his body, leaning in close to his ear. He seemed not to notice you at first, but jolted into awarness when you started to whisper.

“From now on, I hope you’ll think twice before ditching me for some stupid interview,” You told him, preparing to stand up, “‘Cause when I get blown off, I always make sure to return the favor.” If Ross responded in any way, you didn’t stick around to hear it. He need time to think about his actions and how to do better in the future. And, frankly, you needed to get off somehow, and he certainly wasn’t in any condition to do it.

✎✎✎

If the desire for A Lot More Ross resonates with you, please feel free to stick around.

#lynchs finch #ross lynch #ross lynch x reader #fanfic #smut #the driver era

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drdemonprince · 9 months ago

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I'm curious to know your take on the whole fujoshi pisscourse because I'm semi new to it and no matter how much the internet says I should be appalled that some cis women flick their beans to gay stuff... as a queer guy I simply cannot bring myself to care. I have experienced cis straight women in queer spaces being rude or even sexually inappropriate, especially to performers, but I just don't see the relationship between that and the girls watching gay porn. And I've also seen people argue that it's bad because cis straight women who are artists will write/draw stuff about gay men that's inaccurate... but again I don't see this as nefarious as the twinks on tiktok want me to believe it is, like who cares.

Yeah, I'm with you 100%. What a person gets off to is their business and no type of porn belongs to one identity group.

My gay male bestie in high school got off exclusively to straight porn -- he found the women in straight porn easier to relate to than the types of big, masc guys that get depicted in most gay porn videos.

I watch porn of any fucking gender combination because what I care about is the hypnosis and power exchange, not the people involved.

I know this couple of two trans women that broke up when one walked in on the other watching gay male "sissy" porn -- she considered it an insult to her own identity and worried that it meant her trans femme partner wasn't "really" a woman or didn't see her as one. It led to the disastrous, messy termination of a relationship of many years, and the entire basis for the rift was nonsense.

I like a lot of detrans kink / forced detransition porn because of my own insecurities and worst fears. It strikes a chord in a hot way. Before I transitioned, I looked at a lot of gay male porn especially of the silly fanfictiony variety because it gave me something to project my longings onto.

Lots of trans mascs are "cis female fujoshis" like that. And yeah, some cis women are too! They may like the escape from conventional gender role baggage, or they may have some latent gender-fuckery of their own that the fiction is allowing them to explore, or maybe they just like guys a lot and so seeing two guys together is twice as hot to them. No amount of discourse is gonna keep straight men from watching lesbian porn. So let's leave the girls to whatever gets them off!

(incidentally, I know a lot of lesbian fujoshis too).

We shouldn't be policing what others' eroticize. A person's identity has no bearing on what they might find interesting to look at or fantasize about. What matters in terms of 'protecting' the queer community is having guidelines on behavior.

The problem with cishet women being predatory at the club isn't that they're cishet, it's that they're groping people, getting in people's faces, and being rude. Anyone of any identity can do that. The only way we can prevent bad behavior is by having rules and procedures in place for dealing with it in anyone. Not by restricting which identities are allowed in the door -- that will only ever play out in a transphobic way and a way that's hostile to the questioning and closeted, and I'll have no part in it.

And certainly none of us have any business butting into what sexual thoughts play between a person's ears. There are no thought crimes. There are no emotion crimes. There are no arousal crimes. There are only behaviors that can hurt others, and if someone's actions are respectful and harm no one, their identity and what they get off to is completely their business.

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muldermuse · 11 months ago

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this is kind of a ramble so bear with me:

thinking about sending two sinners!gator into an absolute tailspin when he shows up to your house to see everything in boxes and your clothes packed up in a few suitcases by the door

he’s like ????? WHAT IS GOING ON WHERE ARE YOU GOING???? and just casually saying “skipping town” and going to kiss him and he’s like ??????

i can only imagine the catharsis of telling him that “there’s nothing in fargo for me, most of the town hates me and the ones who don’t just wanna fuck me, you’re probably gonna marry glenda which will only make everyone hate me even more if they find out i’m the other woman. So I want to live somewhere else. I’m not happy here.” and he obv freaks out

and maybe you’re just going to stay at a friends house while your place gets painted, but maybe leaving was on your mind (it’s easier to sell a house with fresh paint👀), and maybe you wanted to see how serious he was about coming with you…but none of that is any of his business…

i’m usually not an angst girlie but i’m on my period and it’s probably a safer bet to be melodramatic and pick a fight with a fictional man than one i actually know 😭😭

ok this ask made me feral, i felt so ANGSTY writing it

thank u so much for sending it through angel <3

18+ only!! Angst below the cut!! Gator is mean and reader is maybe meaner. They're both terrible people. He calls her a whore, she calls him a lot of mean names. Mentions of smut but no actual smut.

Maybe, this is super far in the future for the two sinners fic or maybe it is not canon. who knows!!! not me!!!

You’re not sure how he found out. You’ve quietly handed your notice in at work and said goodbye to the few in this shitty town you care about. Jenson, Jax and Steve have been ghosted (but you know that they’d all come back with a simple ‘you up?’ text). You weren’t going to tell Gator you were leaving- he didn’t deserve a goodbye. You’d planned to go for 3 months as your place was going to get renovated in that time (you’d been saving up for years to make it more of a home). So, you thought that the months away would be an opportunity to become a new person. A better person. Someone who didn’t fuck pathetic Sheriffs. If anyone looked in; they’d think you were going forever. You’d decided that as soon as you left, you’d block Gator and when (or if) you returned, you’d avoid him like the plague.

The U-HAUL parked in your drive probably gave it away. Or when Glenda saw you filling up your truck and made a snide comment about what you were doing. Or maybe it was when you fucked him 2 days ago he made a passing comment about how empty your home looked. Since then, the entire hall area is covered in boxes filled with your possessions. You try not to let it depress you that your whole life has been packed up in a matter of days. You need a fresh start, you’re moving in with a friend a few towns over and you can be whoever you want to be for a few months. No one there has to know that you’ve been fucking a loser in a relationship for the best part of 2 years. You know it’s him as soon as he knocks on the door, no one knocks as loud as him and other people wait to be invited in. Gator lets himself in as you’re checking your backpack one final time.

“The fuck is all this shit?” He kicks a box that’s in his way and you’re thankful you don’t hear a shatter. “Saw the U-Haul and uh- Glenda saw you fillin’ up. Plannin’ a trip or somethin’?”. He tries to sound unbothered but you know him better than that.

You don’t look at him when you tell him, “Yeah, I’m leaving”. You tell yourself that it’s because you’re checking your backpack but really it’s because you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins and you’re trying to compose yourself before you lose your shit.

“The fuck did you jus’ fuckin’ say?”

“Sorry, I’ll say it slower because you’re a fuckin’ idiot. I am leaving”. You draw out the last three words and stare at him. You can hear your heart thumping in your ears as you try to read the expression on his face. It’s a mix of anger, confusion, and sadness. A soft kiss his pressed to his cheek as you walk into the dining room to check your toiletries box. That’s the only pleasantry you’ll exchange with him today- or maybe ever again.

His boots stomp behind you as he follows you in. “Well, where are you goin’?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m there, Gator. Now you can fuck off back to Glenda and play fuckin’ happy families for the rest of your life”.

“Well- why are you leavin’? You’ve never mentioned this before”. His voice breaks as he speaks, either a sign he’s getting choked up or he’s getting really angry.

You can feel the anger rattling in your chest and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears becomes overwhelming. “Why am I going? Gator, everyone in this town fuckin’ hates me or thinks that I’m a total whore because of your fuckin’ bitch of a girlfriend. Who- by the way, you’re goin’ to marry because you’re too fuckin’ chickenshit to upset your crazy daddy…” You slam your hands on the table and take a quick breath, “Gator- I fuckin’ hate it here, I’m miserable and I can’t do it any longer- it’s killin’ me”.

He’s stood opposite you and fuck, does he look mad. He doesn’t move for a minute but then shoves your boxes off the table and kicks them when they hit the floor. After a few seconds, he kicks them again with more force and slams his hands on the table.

“Yeah, real fuckin’ mature Gator, breaking my shit beca-“

“What about this? What about us?” His voice is more muted than you’ve ever heard it. His breath is shuddering gasps. You’re unsure why it enrages you.

You laugh cruelly, “What us? What the fuck are you talking about? Gator, you have a fuckin’ girlfriend who you’re going to marry.”

“Yeah but when has that stopped you- huh? You can’t put this all on me. You’re jus’ as bad as me.”

He moves to stand in front of you. The energy in the room is charged, usually, when it feels like this between the pair of you, it would end in some angry sex where you’re both trying to dominate the other person but you both know that isn’t going to happen today.

“You’re movin’ away to be a fuckin’ whore somewhere else... or because you’re jealous of Glenda. She gets all of me and you jus’ get the fuckin’ scraps”. His smile is wicked and his eyes look darker than you’ve ever seen them.

You take a step closer to him, “I couldn’t think of anything fucking worse than havin’ all of you. You’re a pathetic fuckin’ daddy’s boy who’s never won anythin’ in his life”. You get close enough to whisper in his ear, “you’re a fuckin’ loser, Gator.”

You hate how much you want to fuck him in this moment and by the red bloom that’s creeping up his neck; you know he feels the same.

He leaves your home silently. He kicks another box on his way out and you finally hear a shatter. His tyres spin as his car races off your front lawn.

You should block his number and know that that is the end of this awful affair.

But you both know that it isn’t.

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