#the same way i did saturday night just gone

[joyridingmp3]

actions speak louder than words. goodnight everyone ❤️

[suncoved]

STOP IT RAFE, YOU'RE BEING MEAN! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; bestfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary; rafe has a strict rule that if you ever leave anywhere, you tell him. and when you break that rule, he goes ballistic (bsf!rafe cameron x reader)

warnings ; angst! verbal fighting, angry!rafe, kinda mean rafe, theyre both annoyingly oblivious.. warning this did not turn out how i planned it to be but im also not mad at it, idkkkk

to say you were bored was an understatement.

it was a regular rowdy saturday night in the outerbanks, this nights party being at a random kooks house on the figure eight whose name you couldn't quite remember

you were nursing a forgotten red solo cup of punch in your hand, crowd-watching to pass the time.

it wasn't normal that rafe actually succeeded in convincing you to come to these things. because as much as you liked chatting with spoiled self-absorbed kooks over disgustingly sweet punch, you'd rather stay cuddled up in your fluffy pyjamas and watch sappy romcoms on rafe's couch.

but nevertheless, here you were. dreading every decision you had ever made up to that point as you watched rafe from across the room. a blonde kook girl climbing over him and straddling his hips, sitting on his lap as he smirked.

you knew you really had no right being mad at him because you weren’t dating.

but from the start of your more than 10 year friendship, rafe made it clear that you were and always will be his.

so why didn’t that rule go both ways?

with all the thoughts bouncing around in your head, you failed to hear a certain blonde pouges voice echo around you.

you snapped out of your state, consciousness returning to your mind as a hand was waved repeatedly in your face.

“hey! you there princess?” a smile adorned the boys face, a ratty snapback placed backwards on his blonde hair.

“yeah, jj. right here” you joked, smiling brightly back at him as you brought your cup up to your lips.

“thought we lost you there for a bit princess? what’d you doing standing here all alone?” jj asked, surprised to see your constant kook king shadow nowhere to be seen.

“just people watching, the usual. where’s kie?” you quickly changed the subject, wanting anything to get your mind off of rafe.

“around here somewhere i hope. gonna’ try to round everyone up to we can get outta here. early morning for us cut goers tomorrow, fish to catch and things to steal” you giggled at his joke, earning an even wider grin on his face.

you always liked jj. you thought he was funny, and he was the most loyal person to his friends that you knew. and despite his manic tendencies, you trusted him.

“have a nice night j. drive safe!” you said, watching him wink at you before he disappeared into the crowd.

with jj gone, you were left to your own thoughts agian, which was never a good thing.

you glanced over again at rafe sitting comfortably on the couch on the deck. the light from inside illuminating his face as he leaned over to the table, picking up a small bag of white powder and handing it to a random touran.

you bit your lip as you noticed the same blonde from before clinging to his side, rafe seeming unbothered but making no move to push her off.

god, you couldn’t even imagine how rafe would react if he saw you speaking to jj earlier. so why is it that he can literally let a girl dry hump him in the middle of a party and you shouldn’t care?

you didn’t know why you cared though, because rafe is you best friend, nothing more.

right?

you didn’t have time to think about that right now though, you just needed to get the fuck out of this party right now or you were gonna explode.

an idea clicked in your brain and jj dragged a drunk john b towards the entrance of the house, kiara and pope following quickly behind.

you decided that this was now or never, placing your red solo cup onto a random table as you walked towards them.

“hey jj!” you called out, his head immediately snapping towards you. “you think you could give me a ride home?”

it was nearly 30 minutes later that rafe noticed you were no longer in your spot in corner of the house. business was coming to a halt as he sold his last few grams of cocaine, a heavy wad of cash safely resting in his back pocket.

his eyes scanned the crowd for your face, but you were no where to be seen.

and rafe was starting to freak the fuck out.

he knew you wouldn’t go upstairs to any bedrooms, or go out for an impulse swim in the pool. and he knew most of all that you wouldn’t just leave without telling him, and the notification box in his voice remained empty from your contact.

he ran his hand roughly through his hair, pulling aggressively at the roots and cussing to himself frustrated.

his eyes widened as he saw your friend in the crowd, interrupting what ever useless conversation she was having, because until he knew you were safe, nothing was more important.

he asked rudely where you were, watching as her face morphed into shock that rafe was talking to her. because well, if it’s not plotting on the pouges or selling drugs, rafe doesn’t interact with anyone but you or his friends.

“i-i im not sure. i saw her leave like a bit less than half an hour ago. i thought she told you, she always does”

rafe clenched his jaw, hundreds and thousands of thoughts running through his head. “was she alone?”

“n-no. she was with that jj guy and his friends” your friend murmured, nervous she was ratting you out to the scariest guy in the whole of kildare.

it was safe to say that rafe was fucking pissed.

it took him less than a few seconds to put his keys into the ignition of his jeep and drive illegally fast to your house. you liked to piss him off often when you were in a mood, but never with your safety.

rafe never fucked with your safety, ever.

he murmured venomous cusses to himself and he walked towards your house, the pebbles from your mothers perfect drive way crunching under his feet as he speed to your door.

he made a beeline to the entrance of your home, the white arches welcoming and the doorway dimly lit by the porch lights.

he planted his feet straight on the 'welcome home' door mat, lifting his balled fist up to the door and sending booming knocks to the wood panel.

his knuckles were white as he clenched his fists so hard together there was sure to be crimson-red crescent indents from his fingernails. he was fuming.

the click of the lock releasing from the door snapped him out of his thoughts, the door handle turning and the lobby of the inside of your house quickly coming into view.

he locked eyes with your figure immediately, a pink fluffy towel in your hand as you dried your hair. you were only wearing a pair of long socks and rafes shirt which reached more than halfway down your thighs, your face bare of makeup.

you jumped as you saw the look on his face, an anger prevalent in his stare that you had never seen directed at you. fuck. you were in some deep shit.

you parted your lips to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. for the first time in your life, you were scared of rafe. not that he was going to harm you physically, no, never that.

but you knew how much he cared about you and your safety. you just wished he cared that much about your feelings. you wanted him to see that.

"rafe" you said, your voice coming out as a whisper as you watch the lines on his forehead crease together as thousands of thoughts ran through his head.

"what the fuck were you thinking?" he spat as he pushed you as softly as he could into the house so he could close the door, worried the cold of the night was going to make you shiver.

you didn't have time to answer before he started again, running a hand roughly through his hair as he huffed. "you just left? you fucking left a party at night without even texting me, and you let that fucking pouge drive you home!"

you rolled your eyes at the last statement, this was all about jj? "so that's all you care about? me going home with a boy i've known since third grade who just so happens to live on the cut? you don't give a shit about me, you just care about this stupid kook pouge rivalry!"

"don't say what you know isn't true ma. you know i care about you more than i care about myself." he stated, nearly all the anger in him draining out as he saw your eyes begin to fill with tears. he couldn't handle seeing you cry.

"how do i know you care about me rafe? because you don't seem to show it." you sighed pushing yourself as far away from him as you could, your back pushing up against the wall.

"don't fucking say to me y/n. i've loved you from the moment i met you." you finally stopped looking at the floor, lifting your chin so you made eye contact with him.

"stop it rafe, you're being mean" you whispered, mostly to yourself more than rafe. you couldn't listen to him say how much he loved and cared about you for one more second. not when you still had the picture of him being essentially dry-humped in the middle of a party by a girl you didn't even know.

"ma i love you. you know that. you're my world, my favourite girl. why are you fighting this?" rafe said, trying to hold you wrist in his hand before you quickly pulled it away.

"bec-because you can't just say all this then turn around and have make outs with other girls right in front of me. it-its not fair." you spoke, the tears finally making their way down your cheeks in steady streams.

rafe physically flinched at your statement, his palms getting sweaty and his heart rate increasing into rapid beats. was he actually going to admit his love for you right now, like this?

"what are you saying y/n?" he asked, his voice cracking as his face fell. his mind racing with how many outcomes could come out of this conversation.

"that i love you, you idiot!"

[chuuyasheaven]

“ ➸ Nothing matches your touch !! ”

SCENARIO. Chuuya was on a week long mission, and you missed him and his touch very dearly. You tried to wait for him but couldn’t, even hearing his voice through the other end of the line was turning you on. You tried touching yourself but he does it the best, so once he’s back, he gonna make up for those touches you were longing for.

TAGS. C. NAKAHARA / FEM! READER, husband! Chuuya, wife! Reader, pet names, masturbation mentioned, eating out, p in v, praise, overstimulation, slight teasing?, they are fucking but making love at the same time (if it makes sense), short probably, grammar, etc.

NOTES. This was started on the morning of my math final, idk when I’ll finish it (I FINISHED IT ON SATURDAY!!’) .. enjoy! And were are JUMPING into the story :3

Your fingers were running through his ginger locks as he grabbed onto your waist, never letting you go while his lips were on yours. It’s been only a week but it felt like several weeks going by slowly. Chuuya couldn’t admit how much he missed you, how much he missed your touch on his body. But you had no problem to, you were telling him that as soon as he went through that door.

“Missed me that much, sweetheart?”, he asked in a teasing tone as he placed you on the bed. He knew you did, way more than he probably did. You nodded as you leaned back, waiting for his next move. Chuuya got his knee between your thighs when he also got on the bed, hovering over you with a smirk. “Want me to make up for every night I wasn’t here?”, Chuuya didn’t really give you a chance to answer that, he simply just kissed you again, god how much he missed those soft lips of yours. When he pulled away once more, he shoved his knee against your cunt slightly, you let out a strained whimper at that. “Fuck, you’re probably wet right now, aren’t you?”, you nodded desperately, getting more worked up as more time passed. “Please, Chuuya, I missed you.”, the lust in your voice made his dick twitch in his pants. “Don’t worry, I got you, baby.”, he cooed.

The shorts you were wearing gave him easy access to remove them quickly along your panties. “Did you try to touch yourself while I was gone, doll?”, you nodded slowly, waiting for him to finally touch your wet cunt. “It didn’t feel as good as you do.”, Chuuya placed a quick kiss on your lips before slowly going lower to sit between your thighs. “Yeah?”, you nodded again as you felt Chuuya caressing your thighs while spreading them to get closer to your cunt. “Can’t wait to taste you again.”, he admitted with slight excitement, digging into your cunt immediately. Once he started to eat you out, your head threw itself back in pleasure. Chuuya ate you out like a starved man, god, he didn’t know how he survived so long without tasing you for about a week. Your fingers found themselves tangled up in Chuuya’s red locks again, unintentionally pushing him in deeper. His hands found themselves on your thighs and held onto them for more stability. “Ah– Chuuya, I’m close!”, you moaned out, this only made him eat you out sloppier, his tongue knowing which places to hit to make you see stars. Your thighs began to slightly shake, the knot in your gut was close to snapping, and Chuuya kept on giving you more pleasure until you cum undone on his tongue. “Fuck, c’mon, cum on my tongue, doll. Let me taste you more.”, his words rather muffled as he was still between your thighs, still very close to your cunt. The vibrations from his words sent you over the edge, making you cum almost instantly. When Chuuya got back up from between your legs, he was smirking, licking up any of your essence that was trying to escape. “Good girl,”, he praised you, walking towards you slowly while undoing his belt. “Ready for the rest? Or are you already tired?”, Chuuya knew the answer to that one, and his guess was confirmed when you gave him a short response on it. “N–no. Please, I need you so bad.”, all he could do was chuckle low as he was staring down at you, his cock hard and excited. “Yeah? You need me this bad, sweetheart?”, Chuuya bent halfway down to get close to your face, stroking his cock slowly before lining it up. “Want me to fuck you as good as I can, hm? You want me to make you scream my name as loud as you can?”, Chuuya whispered against your lips as his tip was teasing your now sensitive cunt while he was talking dirty to you, slowly letting it drag itself up and down your folds. His teasing got you even wetter than before, you were whimpering from the stimulation he was putting you through. “Chuuya. . please.”, you begged him in a desperate whisper, making him smirk.

“Please what, baby? Can’t wait any longer?”, you shook your head, he chuckled low once again, pressing his tip on your cunt, not pushing it in just yet. “So desperate f’me. . I can feel how wet you are, baby. Who am I to make you wait any longer?”, and with that, he pushed himself in slowly, capturing your lips into a kiss quickly before cursing under his breath. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight for me, you might squeeze me dry, doll.”, Chuuya started to move, starting off slow so you would get used to the feeling. Soon enough, he started to get faster, chasing after your orgasms. You had to grip the sheets from how fast he was getting, his tip continuously hitting your sweet spot. God, you might never get over how big he actually is. “You’re doin’ so good, princess.”, he praises in between grunts and thrusts, his grip on your waist tightening. All you managed to do was to scream out his name in between moans, locking your legs around his waist to get a better angle. It didn’t take long for you to feel your second climax nearing itself, clenching down on his cock at least twice. “Chuuya!”, was all you managed to say that wasn’t slurred. Chuuya, on the other hand, was grunting from all this, he wasn’t able to fuck you this good for a week! His cock started to twitch inside your overstimulated cunt, letting him know that he was growing close too. “Chuuya, g–gonna cum!”, you warned him again, Chuuya was speeding up even more. “Can you hold on f’me, princess? Promise I’ll make this fast.”, you nodded, trying your best to wait for him. After a couple of fast thrusts, which hit your sweet spot way too good, he felt himself starting to cum. “Cum, sweetheart! Fuckin’ cum for me.”, his cock was twitching inside you again as you finally came over it. While Chuuya was emptying his load into you, the last couple of curses fell under his breath. “Fuh–huck. .”, your tight grip on the sheets got loose again, both of your chests falling up and down from breathing heavily after the session you both had.

“ You did so good for me, baby. Let’s just stay like this for a little, yeah? ” ♥

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

September

He doesn’t talk to the Munsons much. (Doesn’t talk to anyone, really, aside from his mom and Robin and that one older woman who keeps renting and returning Gone With The Wind as an excuse to leave her house.) He keeps his head down and his nose clean, doesn’t care to make friends with the neighbors; just wants to get by.

One day Eddie approaches their door, waving a gas bill that got mixed up in their mail, and Steve greets him pleasantly enough.

“Stab anyone today?”

“Eat glass, Harrington.”

So it goes.

Steve watches the world pass and the weather turn, lets the hours bleed into weeks and squeezes his eyes shut against the flashbacks when they threaten to overwhelm.

Things with his mom are weird.

They don’t really speak, preferring to shrug their way past each other with careful, tight-lipped nods, and his mom takes these pills the doctor gave her that keep her perfectly pleasant and calm. Silent. Physically present but not really here.

And he can’t imagine how it feels to be her: Florence Harrington, ripped from the comforts of the upper crust and left to rot in a tin can seven miles across town. She spends most of her time letting out weary little sighs as she swans from room to room, drifting like a shade on the banks of the River Styx. (He can make that reference now because Robin won’t shut up about mythology. “It’s so gay, Steve. The Greeks were literally so gay.”)

Anyway.

Shit’s weird with the kids, too. He still drives them around — lets them loiter at Family Video when it’s slow; hangs around when they need a ride to the arcade or the movies or the skating rink; and he’s still on the hook for ‘ice cream. for. life,’ so…

It’s just not the same.

Like. Not to be dramatic, but who the fuck is Steve Harrington without the house and the pool and the free-for-all fridge? Just some kid with a car and a bat and a punchable face. And he can barely afford to keep the car now, anyway, so pretty soon they won’t need him for that, either. They’ll learn to drive; they’ll get their own jobs. Maybe Lucas builds enough muscle to take over as the party tank.

Maybe it’s better if he shelfs himself now before they realize he’s become obsolete.

“Oh, my god, you’re being pathetic,” he groans to himself. His voice is muffled where he’s lying face down on the couch. Ridiculous behavior, because everything is fine; Steve is fine. In the grand scheme of things where there are monsters and melted corpses and all kinds of crazy, horrible shit?

Yeah.

He’s being obnoxious. It’s a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon with just the right Autumn breeze going — gentle but cool; long sleeve polo weather; his favorite kind — and he’s sitting inside throwing himself a pity party.

Fucking absurd.

…Five more minutes.

Just five more minutes, then he’s getting off this couch.

He gets to a minute and a half when he hears the crunch of tires against the gravel, the clanging of a little bell from the handlebar of a bike, and then:

“STEVE!!!”

And that’ll be Dustin, trying to bang the door off the hinges and piss off the whole park at the same time. Kid’s nothing if not a multitasker. Steve lets another aggrieved groan loose into the couch cushion.

His mom’s out with the car; the lights are all off. Maybe he can just play dead ‘til Dustin leaves? He loves the kid, he really does, but his left ear is full of static, and he just wants to fucking sleep. Or sulk. Or both.

“STEVEN CHRISTOPHER, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”

Jeeeeesus Christ. “Okay, chill,” Steve grumbles as he hauls himself upright and throws open the front door. His limbs feel like lead; there’s drool on his chin. “Wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, why don’t you?”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, and half the people here work nights.”

“Oh-kayy,” Dustin drags out the word, “but you don’t.”

Ugh. Whatever. He’s not gonna be shamed by a toothless teenager for his depressing loser tendencies. “Did you need something?”

Steve scratches at his belly hair through his shirt, feels a muscle twinge in his shoulder and send a spark of nerve pain skittering up to the base of his skull.

Dustin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve’s body is falling apart where he stands, because he just rolls his eyes and says, “Uh, yeah. I need to know why you’re avoiding everyone? Mom’s tried to invite you to dinner six times now.”

“I was working.”

“All six times?” Dustin glares. Steve feels a little pinned by it, feels guilt seeping through the cracks as he fidgets with his bad ear. This kid’s gonna be the scariest lawyer some day. “She’s worried.”

Goddammit.

Guilt squeezes hard behind his ribs; he knows Dustin uses his mom as a mouthpiece for the feelings he can’t express. “I’m fine,” he sighs, letting his eyes and voice go soft. “Honest.”

Dustin holds firm, gaze fierce and fists clenched. “Bullshit,” he insists.

“Man, don’t—”

“Bull. Shit.”

Suddenly, their impromptu interrogation gets interrupted by a crashing drum fill, a shriek of electric guitar as Munson’s van squeals into the lot. He’s blasting some melodramatic metal shit about wizards or whatever; Steve doesn’t know. He only knows that the skitter of nerve pain he felt is ramping up to a fullblown migraine now because this guy has to listen to his racket at full fucking volume, apparently, and isn’t this all just “fucking great.”

—

part 5

[wantondoe]

Drop dead gorgeous

(I deeply apologize if you're reading this in the middle of the night and your eyes burn due to the bright image)

Hazbin Hotel x doe reader / Alastor x doe reader

Warnings: cursing, sexual themes (duh) / A comedic story about Hazbin Hotel staff reacting to your tail dropping off seemingly out of nowhere. You and Alastor are mates.

It was a Saturday night at the hotel and the staff was spending some quality time at the Bar. Alastor was also there, standing on the side while examining everyone's movements, a soft smile playing on his lips. His gorgeous ruby eyes lighting up as he saw his oh so adorable mate running down the stairs. His smile widened as he saw you running towards him.

You were wearing one of those dresses he had bought you, a rich crimson red dress that even had a hole in the back for your lovely doe tail. His eyes lingered on the soft tail, before making their way up at your cute pointy ears and finally settling on your face.

"My my, you look absolutely stunning my dear! That dress really suits you", he said, his voice full of admiration.

"You're flattering me, darling", you chuckle, taking his hand and leading him to the bar. He helped you on a high bar stool. You sat there happily, the plush tail wagging as you engaged in a conversation with the others.

Alastor wasn't exactly the biggest fan of public display of affection. Regardless of that, he wanted everyone to know who you belong to. So, he would sometimes hold you close, place his large hand possessively on your back, or perhaps pet your tail.

Tonight, he chose the latter, gently stroking your tail as you were having a conversation about different alcohol drinks with Husk.

"Chardonnay always makes me feel like a 40-year-old suburban mom", you giggle. "No offense, of course! Moms are the best, but not the abusive ones!"

Alastor smiled at your quirkiness.

"Well, beer makes me feel like an average Joe who works in construction", Angel joked back, playing with the stereotypes. "Cider on the other hand makes me feel like a teenage girl who just discovered tampons-"

Angel stared at the floor under your bar stool, his eyes wide with horror. You suddenly felt odd, as if something was missing. You looked around, noticing that Alastor had an absolutely horrified look on his face as he stared at the same spot with Angel. Soon, the others stopped talking as well.

"A-Alastor, what's going on?" you asked, confused, looking up at your mate. You quietly followed his gaze only for it to land on a furry piece on the floor.

At that same exact moment, Lucifer marched in the area, eager to meet up with his daughter. "My daughter, I am here!" Lucifer sang. "Oh my! What the unholy Hell is that?" He pointed at the furry piece on the floor, using his apple wand.

"Oh, that will be perfect for my collection!" Nifty poked at the furry mess.

"Do not pick that up", Alastor said sternly, stopping Nifty from further touching the tail.

"That's.. That's my tail", you whisper. "My tail... It fell off..."

Alastor stood there, feeling guilty. Had he stroked your tail too harshly? Was this all his fault?

You picked up the tail, holding it on your palms, hot salty tears forming in your precious doe eyes. Alastor felt horrible, absolutely heartbroken for your lovely tail. He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"How could this happen to me?" you sobbed. (I've made my mistakes)

Chaos unwrapped in the room as everyone realized the true nature of the situation.

Angel: What the fuck? THIS DID NOT JUST HAPPEN!

Charlie: Vaggie! CALL THE AMBULANCE!

Vaggie: On it... Shit! Where's the phone? Dammit!

Husk passed out on the bar table with a loud thump.

Vaggie: WHERE IS THE PHONE?

Lucifer: Charlie, I should tell you, I have hemorrhoids!

Charlie: Dad- what? Why are you telling me that-

Lucifer: My ass might just fall off like that tail! The surgeon said they might have to operate on it-

You: My tail is gone and so is my will to live-

Lucifer: Imagine it Charlie, an operation, on my ass!

Alastor: No, don't say that dear-

Charlie: Dad, I'd rather not-

Nifty was running around in panic, accidentally bumping into you and making you lose your balance. Due to that, your fallen tail flew in a beautiful arch, soaring through the air and eventually landing on Angel's hair. Angel stood there for a moment in shock, before he yelled in disgust.

Angel: AAARRGHH SON OF A BITCH!

Angel used his long arms to grab the fallen tail and threw it away. The tail soared through the air once again, this time landing inside Lucifer's open mouth.

Alastor: How dare you treat my mate's tail like that-

Angel: Ugh! It was still warm!

Lucifer's eyes widened as the tail landed in his mouth and throat. He started choking on the soft fur.

Charlie quickly started beating the hell out of Lucifer, slamming her open palm on his back.

Vaggie on the phone: Yes we have a male choking on a fallen doe tail. Yes we need professional help!

You: Charlie, do the maneuver!

Charlie, in panic: WHAT FUCKING MANEUVER?

You: The Hamburger, no... The Heimlich maneuver!

Charlie: I DONT KNOW WHAT THAT IS!

You: MOVE!

You started desperately performing the maneuver. Lucifer was gagging like a fish on dry land. Angel started filming the scene.

Vaggie on the phone: YES HE IS TURNING BLUE! Yes we are trying to help!

Thanks to your capable hands, Lucifer managed to cough the tail out. But this time the tail flew in your mouth. You felt the wet, soft fur. You felt like yelling, that's how disgusting this whole thing was.

Angel: Oh hell nah! That is... Ew. It's like, Lucifer's spit is inside you-

Alastor: Shut up Angel!

Now it was Alastor's turn to perform emergency care. He slapped the dear life out of you, his large palm hitting your upper back. But it didn't work, so he started performing the Heimlich maneuver. Since Alastor was so much bigger than you, it looked like he was humping a teddy bear.

Angel: Kinky!

Vaggie on the phone: Now we've got a female chocking on the tail!

Angel: Haha, is that how they look like when they are fucking?

Charlie: Come on, Angel...

Nifty, smirking: Alastor's a big boy!

Alastor, losing his control: SHUT UP! SHUP UP ALL OF YOU!

Alastor kept performing the maneuver while you desperately gagged, finally spitting the tail out. The slimy tail landed on Lucifer's hat, making him let out a ridiculously high pitched scream.

Alastor held you close, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear. "It's okay darling, you're fine, I'm here..."

"My tail... It's gone..." you cried softly against his chest.

Husk finally sobered up, seeing the scene in front of him. "What the hell did I miss?"

Angel quickly let Husk know what had happened.

Husk: Well, that's sucks. That sucks a lot-

Angel: Like your dad at the gay sex club-

Nifty: Nice one, Angie-

Husk: WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY-

Charlie: OMG! Look!

Vaggie: Your tail is growing back!

Never in your life had you ever witnessed this. First, your tail dropped, and now you were pushing out a new one. Alastor looked at the newly emerged tail that was even softer than the last one. He chuckled, reaching the tail to pet the silky fur.

"My my, looks like things worked out after all", Alastor chuckled. "First you dropped your old tail and now you grew out a new, drop dead gorgeous tail."

"Pun intended, huh?" Angel cackled.

You felt your new softer tail, still slightly confused by the most recent events. "I really have a tail after all..."

"Yes dear", Alastor nodded, ignoring Angel's comment. He grinned with a wicked glint in his eyes as he stole glances at the new tail. "Lovely."

Alastor's face when your tail fell off:

[hier--soir]

be good

no outbreak joel miller x f!reader

pairing: sub!joel miller x dom!f!reader summary: joel was never really the submissive type. until he met you, and realised he'd do whatever you asked of him. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no outbreak au, established relationship, strangers at a bar role play, dom!reader, sub!joel, dirty talk, joel miller is desperate, face sitting cunnilingus, f!masturbation, save a horse ride a cowboy, size kink, praise kink, light choking, mean!reader, pet names used for joel [honey, baby, sugar], orgasm denial, reader talks joel through it, 90% porn 10% plot lmao. word count: 7.6k masterlist a/n: folks i've been gagging for something with joel just being so good for his partner and [begrudgingly] doing whatever she tells him too... and then i listened to 'sex with me' by rihanna and got even more inspired so here we go. [i swear i will post something soon with an actual plot jfc]

He’d been watching you all night.

Pip’s Bar was busy. Though it wasn’t your usual haunt, it was one of the more popular spots in Austin, and on a Saturday night it was absolutely teeming with people. Strangers lined the bar, drinking and talking and trying fruitlessly to chase down two overworked bar tenders. A mass of bodies gyrated and swayed in the middle of the room, moving to the fast rhythm of a bassline that shook the rickety old floorboards. You were lost in the midst of it, dancing alone and yet connected to the foreign bodies that crowded you from every angle, suffocating you until you were slick with sweat and sticky from spilt alcohol. Swallowed whole by the writhing, heaving pack of dancers, your every breath and movement synced with theirs.

And he’d been watching you, all night.

He’d arrived at Pip’s not long after you. And since then, he had hardly moved from the same spot across the room. He leant against the wall, one hand gripping a glass and the other propped on his hip. He looked bored, uninterested in everything happening around him, and yet every time you glanced his way those eyes were already burning a hole into your skin. The truth was that he’d never had much patience for the whole thing, but you trusted he enjoyed it just as much as you did. Knew he’d do whatever you asked him to, even if it included going to a bar and pretending you were strangers. Even when it meant him watching you dance all night, rubbing yourself against strangers, and pretending you didn’t know him until one of you finally broke.  

Your arms stretched high above your head, hips swaying from side to side as you muttered the lyrics of the song underneath your breath. Once again, you glanced back in his direction while you danced. You allowed your torso to sway with the movements of your hips, hands dropping to rest lacklustre by your sides. You offered him a quick smile, but his face hardly moved, body rigid. He lifted the glass to his mouth, playing coy, and you chuckled under your breath, closing your eyes and revelling in the heavy bass that vibrated through your body. When you opened them again he was gone, the wall where he’d once stood now devoid of his presence. You didn’t give it much thought, until suddenly a pair of hands were on your waist, pulling you back against a solid body. A gasp of soft surprise exhaled from your mouth, and you felt the hands squeeze gently. When you turned around, there was already a sly smile was painted across your lips.

The dim lighting in the bar did him no justice; casting too many shadows across his strong jawline, his straight aquiline nose, hiding the perfect shade of his dark pink lips.

He stared down at you with a simmering intensity as you pressed your chest against his. The room was hot, and sweat beaded along your hairline, but it didn’t stop you from dancing slowly against him, gliding your curves against his body, maintaining eye contact all the while.

A faded denim button up covered his chest, the thin material doing nothing to disguise the toned, strong body beneath it. The fabric was slightly coarse, and it was rough against the thin mesh of your shirt. You always loved waiting to see what he would wear, how he would dress up for you. Tonight’s shirt was new, something he’d bought specifically for the occasion, and you loved it. Your nipples hardened a little, and you smirked as he snaked an arm around your waist to press his palm to the spot in between your shoulder blades, holding you against him.

“What’s your name?” you asked over the music, noting the way his eyes drifted to your mouth when you spoke. God, he was so easy.

“Joel.” Those deep, brown eyes bore into your own, drinking in the details of your face as his hips moved slowly against yours. He was always antsy to get this part over and done with, but he played along for you.

“Are you single?” you asked, revelling in the way his mouth went to respond before his brain could catch up. The beginning of the word no formed on his lips, and you almost grinned at how loyal he was, even when you wanted him to lie.

“Yes,” he said.

“You’ve been watching me all night, Joel.”

You reached up to fix his collar where part of it had been turned up. He didn’t respond immediately, mulling his thoughts over in his head, contemplating what he thought you might want to hear.

“It’s okay,” you spoke again when you sensed he was overthinking it, allowing your hand to glide down his shoulder and over the firm muscles of his upper arm. “I liked it.”

“And your name?” he asked, almost shouting to be heard over the music. You smirked at the deep bellow of his voice; at the way it gave the pumping music a run for its money. The thick, Texan drawl of it always managed to spark a fire in your belly.

When you told him, he repeated your name slowly, as if it were foreign to him; rolling it around in his mouth, tasting out the syllables on his tongue. The hand on your back held strong, and you could almost feel the individual tips of his fingertips leaving indents in your skin.

A gyrating body jostled into you from the side suddenly, and you stumbled forward. Joel tightened his grip on you, keeping the both of you standing up right. You flashed him a grateful smile, and your eyes dipped to stare at his mouth. The urge to kiss him was strong, but you held yourself back, knowing the payoff would be worth it if you could just hold off a little longer.

You didn’t waste much time though. “What brings you to Pip’s? Y’here to meet someone?”  

A spark of desire flashed through his eyes, and his grip tightened inconceivably. Your body thrummed with excitement as you gained the upper hand so successfully, and so quickly. Joel cleared his throat, face relaxing back into a neutral expression.

“Didn’t want to come here at all,” he spoke plainly, glancing down to where your chests rubbed together. His eyes trailed over your torso, the mesh fabric of your shirt allowing him a full view of your breasts, clad in a thin lace bra. “Brother dragged me along.”

You hummed, almost grinning at the mention of Tommy, who would blush beet red if he knew what the two of you were doing at Pip’s. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he beat you to it.

“Did you?” he asked quickly. “Come here lookin’ for someone?”

You quirked an eyebrow and shook your head once. “No, I didn’t.” Bold faced lie.

His left hand rested on your hip, and he squeezed your waist once, holding your midriff solidly against his own. You could feel his heart beating, a rapid badoom badoom badoom that knocked rhythmically against your sternum. You draped an arm around the back of his neck, gripping the collar of his shirt.

“But maybe I could be persuaded,” you spoke slowly, testing the waters. “If you’re good.”

His eyes darkened a shade at your wording, and a soft exhale rushed out of his mouth, breezing against your face. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from touching yours, but he hesitated, eyes flickering back up to yours, as if asking for permission. Perfect.

You kissed him gently at first, slotting your lips against his and moving tentatively, exploring him as if it were the first time. His hold on you stiffened as he pressed back, running his tongue eagerly along the seam of your mouth. Your hand drifted from his collar to his hair and you gripped it softly, tugging on the wavy curls. Joel was taller than you, and yet he was crouching somewhat, so that your mouths would be level. Simplifying things for you; always so eager for the game to end. He struggled with it – the standing across the room, watching you, waiting for you to invite him over with a smile. But after an hour of dancing, you were willing to let him have it.

You parted your lips and allowed him to swipe his tongue greedily into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and mint and soda water. It burnt your mouth, and inspired a dull ache in your abdomen. He gained confidence, kissing you harder, deeper, and so you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make him pause. A warning.

You pulled away. “Have you been drinking, Joel?”

His chest rose and fell quickly. Lips swollen and red. You could feel him pressing against your stomach, already half-hard from just a little kiss. Poor baby, so desperate.

“Only had two.” His voice was stilted. “I drove here.”

“Good,” you nodded, gripping his hand and leading him out of the throng of dancing bodies.

“Good?” Joel shouted back, eyebrows raised.

“Good that your car is here,” you clarified. “Means you can drive us back to my place.”

Joel walked through your apartment like he’d never been there a day in his life, and you adored him for it.

He rested on the edge of your bed, nursing a cold beer that you’d swiped from the fridge for him. He stuck out in your bedroom, but you suppose he always had. The queen-sized bed looked like a double with him on it, his broad frame taking up most of the mattress. And the contrast between your floral wallpaper and his dark, masculine figure was so stark that you almost giggled as you watched him from across the room. His eyes felt heavy on you, following you wherever you moved, lest he miss a single thing. They raked over your figure, basking in the bare flesh you had on show, monitoring your hands as you removed your jewellery and discarded it. It caused a prickling heat to rise across your skin, and you liked it – the way he seemed so eager, so uncontained.

“What’re you doin’ all the way over there?” Joel asked. His fingers were long, wrapping around the entirety of the beer bottle, making it look miniscule in his grip.

You bent to take off your shoes. “I’m admiring you.”

His lips pursed, beer bottle pausing in the air halfway to his lips. When he spoke, his voice was deeper somehow. “Well, you should come over here.”

“Would you like that?” you straightened up, smiling sweetly.

“Yes,” he responded. His voice was measured, quiet. But you could tell he was frustrated by your relaxed demeanour. It was always the way it went. Joel was so impatient. He knew what was going to happen, knew what awaited him, and he couldn’t fucking stand the tension build up.

“Maybe if you’re good,” you winked, padding over to where he sat. You stood over him, knees brushing against knees.

“I can be good,” he spoke gruffly, depositing his beer bottle on the ground with a gentle clink.

“Is that so?” you asked softly, pulse quickening. He nodded, wiping his palms on his jeans before splaying them on the bed beside him. A slick heat had formed in your underwear, the near-ruined material sticking uncomfortably to your skin. “You’re gonna do what I want? Whatever I ask of you?”

You could see the way his jeans tightened over his crotch, cock clearly straining against the rough material at your words. He swallowed, nodding again. Slowly, so slow it was painful, you leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. His scent filled your nostrils and you inhaled it deeply, sighing against his mouth as everything that was Joel Miller invaded your senses. Your tongue flicked against his mouth and then you were dragging it past his lips, over his teeth, rolling it against his own tongue. A warm, heavy hand gripped the waistband of your pants and long fingers fumbled with the button, but you pulled back, tutting as you shoved his hands away from you. He looked dejected, wet lips parted as he frowned up at you.

“Take your clothes off,” you ordered softly, and he grunted, but did as you asked. “And then lay on the bed.”

Making quick work of it, he stripped out of his shirt and jeans, tossing them haphazardly into the corner of the room. Finally, he tugged his briefs down, before laying back on the mattress.

Splayed on the bed, not a single inch of Joel Miller was left to the imagination. His body sunk into the soft blankets on the bed, and his cock stood at painful attention. It gave you pause, as he stared at you, and you stared at his cock. He was big—bigger than most guys you’d slept with in the past—and he knew it too. Had always been proud of the fact. His tip was ruddy and swollen, with a small pearl of pre-come resting on his slit, taunting you. A thick, pulsing vein travelled down the side of him. You thought about how he would taste, in that moment. How heavy he would be on your tongue, how your jaw would ache, and you’d struggle to breathe as his tip glided against the back of your throat. You were salivating just thinking about it.

“You like what you see?”

You simply took your clothes off in response. Taking your time, you dragged your shirt over your head before peeling your trousers off, underwear following it and landing in a pile on the floor until you stood naked as the day you were born. Joel watched closely, dark eyes monitoring your hands as you removed layer after layer. His gaze dipped to the spot between your thighs, and you saw his cock twitch.

You straddled his thighs, resting just above his knees and taking care not to make contact with his length. As soon as you settled above him his hands rested naturally on your waist, gripping and kneading the flesh beneath his palms. You decided to allow it, just for a moment, as your gaze travelled down his chest and the dark smattering of hair there, past his happy trail, all the way to where he wanted you the most.

His hips shifted on the mattress, cock bobbing against the soft flesh of his tummy and leaving a shiny smear where the tip brushed his skin.

“So handsome,” you traced your fingers over his stomach. “You’ve got such a pretty cock, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he grunted, eyes trained on your hands as they wandered toward his hips. The power you felt in moments like this were unmatched. With this broad, strong man laying beneath you, completely at your mercy, hanging on the precipice of your every word. Even if he struggled to admit it, even when it seemed like he was using all of his will power to let you have your fun, you both knew that you were in charge. And it was invigorating.

“Yes,” you implored, your heart warming at the way his chest seemed to puff with pride at your words.

Your fingertip traced alone his hipbone and he shivered at the featherlight touch, goosebumps breaking out across his skin. “So pretty and thick. I love it like that, you know? When it’s so big that it hurts at first. No matter how wet I am, there’s still that sting.” You dug your nails into the soft of his upper thigh to emphasise your point. He didn’t respond, eyes darkening as he watched you.

“So big that it fills me up until it’s like I can’t breathe, and I’m so cock drunk that I can’t focus on anything except you and how deep you are.” You placed your spare hand on your lower stomach, splaying your fingers. “When I can feel it here.”

Joel’s breathing had started to labour, chest rattling as heavy exhales drifted through parted lips. His hands dragged from your waist to the crease where your thigh met your hips, and his grip was bruising. You knew he loved it when you talked like that, knew it drove him crazy. And you couldn’t deny it made a fresh wave of heat roll through your stomach to think about him stretching you out just right.

“And I love this,” you continued softly, dragging your fingers from his thigh to graze the moustache that rested above his top lip. He smirked at that, tongue darting out to swipe at your fingers. Your stomach tensed at the feeling of the wet muscle touching you, pussy fluttering around nothing, devastatingly empty. 

Joel whispered your name against the palm of your hand. Smiling, you traced the tip of your index over his lips before pressing down, watching it slide easily into his mouth. He closed his lips around the digit immediately, grazing his teeth over it before sucking gently.

“Oh, you’ve got such a pretty mouth,” you said. “You gonna show me what you can do with it?”

He moaned around the digit, strong hands pulling your hips forward so you were edging your way up his torso.

“Mmh,” you hummed lowly, dragging your soaked finger from his mouth. You tapped it once against his left hand and gave him a sly smile. “But none of this, okay? I don’t want to feel your hands on me, not for a second. Do you understand?”

Joel’s brow furrowed, eyes dimming as he slowly pried his fingers away from your flesh, lowering his hands to rest in the sheets.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” he asked softly, tongue swiping out to wet his lower lip.

You nodded, using your knees to shift further up his chest until you were hovering just above his collarbones. Joel’s eyes darted between your thighs, and a soft sigh left his lips as he gazed at the way your lips had parted ever so slightly, giving him a glimpse of your glistening core. When you paused there for a moment too long, he looked back up to your face, expression almost begging you to movepleasejustmovejustalittlebitcloser.

So you put him out of his misery; rested your knees on either side of his head before lowering your aching cunt to meet his mouth.

Joel groaned in relief as his nose buried itself in your hair, tongue darting out to swipe between your soaked folds. You gasped in delight, rutting yourself against him in encouragement. The coarse hairs of his moustache scraped against your clit and you whined at the sensation, reaching up to rest your hands atop the headboard.

Joel licked a firm stripe up your core with the flat of his tongue, and your shoulders tensed as he set to work. He wasted no time setting a hard and fast pace, letting out messy groans as his tongue rubbed firm circles around your clit. You exhaled heavily, teeth biting down on your lower lip. He dragged his tongue to your entrance and dipped it inside you, so quickly that you flinched, before he was back to rubbing your clit, swiping the tip of his tongue back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He was so overzealous, so hungry for it; exhaling hot air against you while he lathed sloppy kisses against your pussy.

“Hey,” you rasped, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. Joel didn’t let up, simply flicking his tongue across your clit again. You jolted, tightening your grip in his hair and inching your hips away from his face. “Hey.”

His eyes flashed open, lips parting as his mouth tried to follow you when you pulled away.

“Wha—?” he couldn’t finish his sentence as you took his bottom lip between your thumb and index finger, squeezing it once.

“Slow down,” you said firmly. His cheeks flushed. “Moving that fast, a girl might start to think you’re trying to get it over with as quick as possible.”

Joel shook his head in a daze, mumbling a meagre apology against your fingers. Those big browns gazed up at you, wide and sad, reminiscent of a Labrador being told off for eating his dinner too fast. You pressed back down over his face, murmuring a gentle reminder for him to go slow.

He was soft then. Meticulous. Calculated. Every lick, every suck, every graze of teeth, was thought out and purposeful. You could feel more slick oozing out of you as his tongue massaged the flesh between your clit and your entrance.

“That’s it,” you praised breathlessly. “That’s perfect, doing—ohh—doing so well for me.”

Within minutes he had you on the edge, holding the headboard in a white-knuckle grip and grinding down against his mouth as breathy moans fell from your lips. It was reverent, the way he ate you out like it was his favourite thing to do in the world. And as liquid fire began to twist in your stomach, and your thighs burned with the intensity of holding yourself up above him, you could swear you felt him moving. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you bit down on your lip to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape you at the sight of him.

The muscles of his long tanned legs were tense, the soft flesh of his hips flexing as he thrusted upward subconsciously, his leaking cock desperately seeking for contact but being rewarded with nothing but the humid air of your bedroom.  

You thought about how easy it would be to turn around. To lean down and take him in your mouth. To slide your lips over his head; to taste his salt while his tongue glided through your folds. Just the thought had you careening over the edge, body jerking as you gasped and sighed and grinded the swollen mess of yourself down against his face. Joel moaned gratefully, dark eyes flicking open to watch you as you came. You could feel him everywhere; his facial hair scraping against your twitching inner thighs as his nose bumped against your clit and his tongue lapped at your entrance, sucking and swallowing down everything you had to offer until you were gasping and prying yourself away.

On shaking legs, you made your way back down his body. As you moved, you rubbed your pussy against his torso, smearing a shimmering trail of your slick across his skin. Joel let out a brief, wrecked moan, stomach tensing as you passed over it and then lifted yourself up. His pink tongue darted out to swipe at his lips, savouring the glistening remnants of your taste. Resting on your knees, you hovered above him, smiling breathlessly.

“Fuck.” You admired the sight, pouting your lips out teasingly. “Made such a mess on you, I’m sorry, baby.”

“Jesus.” His voice was pained. “S’perfect.”  

“And it’s all for you,” you hummed, trailing a finger absentmindedly over his collarbone. “You looked so pretty like that. All messy haired and fucked out while I rode your face. So good for me, I’m tempted to let you go down on me all night.”

“I want to,” Joel exhaled heavily. A soft blush had risen across his chest, and he glowed under the shower of praise. “Think about it all the time.”

“Is that right?” you asked demurely.

“S’right,” he mumbled. “Think about the way you taste. About spreading you out and spending hours with my head between your thighs.”

The words were so hot they almost made you forget about the game you were playing.

You looked down, brain shifting gears and mouth going dry at the sight of your puffy lips hovering so beautifully close to the tip of his cock. He was so hard it looked painful. Stiff and pulsing, the vein down the side of his length visibly throbbed. Pre-come dripped down his length, pooling at the base of him.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, and Joel looked down, groaning at the sight of you so close to where he was just aching. With a soft gasp, you noticed yourself begin to drip. “Look at that.”

Together, you watched a strand of your slick drip out of you, and land directly on the tip of his cock. Joel’s entire body jolted, and a pitiful moan escaped his mouth at the first stimulation he’d received all night. On instinct, his hands rushed forward and gripped your hips, stomach tensed as he thrusted upward into the air. You could see it in his eyes, the burning desire to grab you and pull you close, roll on top of you and just split you open. But this was your night, and you were the one calling the shots.

You tutted softly. “I said, hands off. Don’t make me tie them to the bed,” you clipped. He cursed, hands dropping immediately. “Mmh, you’ll do whatever I tell you to, won’t you?”

He whispered your name hoarsely, lips shifting below his wet moustache.

You ignored him, smiling at the way his cock twitched whenever you spoke. “So needy, so fucking desperate for me to touch you.”

“Yes,” he admit to it through gritted teeth. “God, fuckin’—please. Anything, I’ll do anything. Need to feel you, please baby, I need it.”

You hummed quietly, pondering as you gazed down at the sweaty mess of a man beneath you. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls, huh handsome?”

His lips parted, harsh exhales rushing past chapped lips. “Only you,” he said firmly.

The corner of your mouth twitched up and you gave an approving nod, admiring the sincere gleam in his eye.

“Good boy,” you murmured. He groaned softly, eyes almost closing at the words. “But I’ve decided I don’t think I’ll use my mouth on you tonight. Or my hands, for that matter.”

Joel frowned, lips curling into a deep grimace as he twisted the sheets in his fists.

“Because,” you continued. “All I want your cock to feel, all night, is my cunt. Nothing else. Do you understand?” 

His jaw slackened and then he was nodding, muttering yeahokayyesyes.

“Yes what, Joel?”

“Please,” his voice cracked.

A wide grin spread easily across your face as you shuffled down the bed, settling your knees on either side of his waist.

“You such a tease,” he groused under his breath.

“Uh-huh,” you chuckled darkly. “And we both know you love it.” He stayed silent, knowing you were right, and watched as you splayed a hand across his stomach, using his body for leverage as you—finally—pressed your folds against his cock. Joel’s stomach tightened as you glided along his length, spreading your slick from his head to his base.

“Can I…?” he trailed off, eyes darting from your face and to where the two of you were touching. You nodded once, unable to look away as he reached down to grip himself, strong fingers wrapping around his length and squeezing once while he notched his tip at your entrance. The lingering sensitivity from your previous orgasm had you shuddering at the contact, walls contracting at the thought of him finally being inside of you.

You pushed his hand away swiftly, placing it back onto the bed. A harsh gasp ripped from your throat as you sunk down on him, gravity taking away any chance for your body to adjust to him slowly. The stretch stung a little, and your mouth hung open, spilling breathy whines.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard Joel exhale, voice ragged.  The muscle in his jaw moved underneath his skin, the muscles in his arms straining as he focused all of his willpower on not fucking touching you. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered. “Y-you’re so deep, stretching me out so good, just how I like it.” You tightened around him and a deep groan tumbled from Joel’s mouth, lids fluttering as his eyes all but rolled back into his head. You wiped the sweat off his forehead and cupped his cheek in your palm.

“Talk to me, honey,” you ran the pad of your thumb across his cheekbone. “Tell me how it feels.”

He grunted, heady brown eyes opening to peer up at you. His hips flexed beneath you and you bit your lip to stop from crying out at the way his cock shifted inside you. Slowly, knees painful from the pressure, you lifted almost entirely off him, before sinking back down. And then you did it again, and again, setting a deliberately unhurried pace and never once taking your eyes off his face.

The room already smelt like sex, a heady mixture of sweat and come, and a warm fog settled over your mind as the moment enveloped you.

You rotated your hips in a circle and delighted in the way he slammed the palm of his hand down onto the bed, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. His eyes were half-shut, vision drifting to the ceiling as his head sunk into the pillow behind him. Within a second your hand tightened on his face, fingertips pressing gently into either side of his jaw, angling his face back towards you. His eyes flashed open, fully alert now.

“Look at me,” you whispered. “Wanna see those pretty eyes on me while I fuck you.”

He groaned at the words, pushing himself up into a seated position so your chests were almost touching. The new angle made you moan, and you loved the way the softest part of your stomachs brushed against each other every time you lowered your hips against his. Maintaining your hold on his face, you knocked your forehead lightly against his, nudging his nose with yours.

“Come on,” you urged, speeding up the rhythm just a little. “Tell me, baby, I—fuck—I wanna hear you. Do you feel good?”

“Yes,” he choked out. His voice was rough and wanton with need, and he wet his lips quickly upon hearing it. He almost looked shy, with his flushed cheeks and pouted swollen lips.

You hummed, hand drifting from his cheek to hover over his neck. Joel stiffened, nose pressing against your cheek as his head dropped forward doggedly. You let your fingertips graze the side of his neck, thumb brushing over his Adam’s apple.

“Is this what you want?” you murmured.

“Yes,” he repeated against your skin and you grinned, applying soft pressure on either side of his neck.

He moaned a low, tortured sound in response, and you leaned back to watch his mouth hang open as the sensation heightened everything he was feeling. With your free hand you stretched down to take one of his off the bed, and placed it firmly on the plush globe of your ass cheek. Joel’s eyes shot open in surprise, hand tightening instinctively.

He squeezed, gripping the flesh so tight it had you gasping, taking full advantage of the new freedom he’d been afforded. He used his hold to push you up and down faster, quickening the pace of your hips. And every time he bottomed out, he held you down on him for a second longer than you’d planned to allow, ensuring you felt every inch of him, every ridge and vein as he throbbed inside you, pressing against the deepest part of your core. You could already feel bruises forming where the tips of his calloused fingers squeezed you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Until you began to notice the signs, that is – the way his jaw slackened and his eyes glazed over. Relaxing your grip on his neck, you instead stroked your fingers along the skin there, feeling his thrumming pulse; listening to his hoarse laboured breaths; watching the way the rise and fall of his chest had rapidly increased. His cock twitched inside you.

“C’mon,” you whispered. “Tell me.”

“M’so fuckin’ close,” he garbled out mindlessly.

“Yeah?”

 “Y’feel so good,” he gasped, words slurring together. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, s’like you were made f’me.”

“Mmm, I know,” you hummed, dropping your hand to press down over his stomach. The muscles contracted under your fingers, tensing over and over again as you moved along his cock. “But you can’t come yet, Joel.”

His eyes snapped to your face, lips silently forming your name.

“I mean it,” you warned in a low voice, hips never ceasing their movement. “I’m not done with you.”

“You can fuck me again,” he shook his head. His face all but crumpled, pupils blown so wide that his eyes were almost entirely black. “Can fuck me as many times as you want, do whatever you want with me.”

You grinned breathlessly. “I know.”

“Please,” his voice cracked, abdomen tensing as you sunk down on him with a particularly heavy thrust. A high-pitched moan left your lips as you grinded your clit against the coarse hair at his base. “M’so close, darlin’.”

“No, Joel,” you admonished quickly, tone clearly too condescending for his liking.

Anger flashed across his face. Sharp and fast, but impossible to miss.

“Fuck you,” he hissed. You clenched around him without meaning to, the fire in your abdomen burning hotter as you watched his patience wane.

Swallowing down a moan, you gave him a measured look, and stopped moving entirely, relaxing your thighs against his.

“That’s not very nice,” you ground out. Joel’s expression loosened, panic glinting in his eyes. “What ever happened to southern hospitality, huh sugar? Do you think you deserve anything if that’s how you’re going to talk to me?” Not waiting for a response, you lifted your hips up, and his cock began to slide out of you painfully slow.

“No, no,” his hands lifted off the bed, hovering warily in the air over your thighs. “Wait, m’sorry, fuck—”

You ignored him, lifting up until you were completely separated. You gasped in unison at the loss, and you fought against the voice in your head that told you to just forget it – to end the entire charade. But you held strong.

“Is that any way to speak to a woman?” you teased, resting your ass on the meat of his thighs. The corners of his mouth were downturned, eyebrows furrowed as he stared despondently at you, face the picture definition of frustration. His length hung heavy in between you, glistening with a thin layer of slick and pre-come.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated softly, and your stomach twisted at the earnestness in his eyes. He meant it, and you knew that. Your sweet, kind, loving man… so quick to temper. And forgiving him too fast would be just setting a bad example.  

“You know I can do this without you,” you lied dolefully, stroking a hand along the damp skin of your own thigh. “You’re nothing special, y’can’t do anything I couldn’t do just as well to myself.”

His frown deepened at your words, hurt flashing across his features. But he knew better than to speak in that moment – knew better than to dig himself into an even deeper hole by trying to argue.

“I want you to watch me,” you ordered sternly, fingers stroking thoughtfully through the coarse hair on your mound. “And if you touch me, or yourself, I won’t make you come tonight. Not even once. If you want to touch yourself so badly, be my guest, but you’ll be finishing yourself off.”

Dark eyes flashed down, jaw flexing as he watched your fingers dip to slide between your folds. You let out an exaggerated sound, gaze trained on the way his eyes devoured your movements. You spotted the muscle in his bicep tightening and loosening intermittently, and noticed that he was gripping the bedsheets so tight that you almost worried they would tear.

Moving carefully, you trailed a finger to the apex of your core and began to run circles over your clit, humming genuinely as the pleasure that had been building inside of you was reignited.

It used to make you shy, the way you touched yourself. The way your brain would run hazy with pleasure, and your hands would take on a mind of their own, grazing over your body as you shivered beneath your own touch. But now? It made you feel fucking formidable. The way you squeezed your breasts, made yourself gasp as you pinched and rolled your nipples. To rub a hand over your lower stomach and press against the soft flesh there, putting pressure on all the nerves underneath the skin to stimulate your g-spot. You were greedy, never stinging away or pulling back from what you knew felt good. It was intoxicating, knowing every intricate part of what made your own body tick. And you knew for a fact that it was like a drug to Joel to see you touch yourself. 

His dark eyes glared at your fingers, awestruck as he watched your movements, tongue swiping greedily over his lips as if in an attempt to taste you again. And when you moaned, he did too, soft groans slipping past his lips and hands fisting in the bedsheets as he watched your fingers disappear inside yourself over and over again.

“That’s it,” Joel said roughly. “Add another finger for me, wanna see you stretch yourse—.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, refusing to do as he asked. He grunted, lips pursing closed. “You like watching me like this? Seeing how I touch myself?” He moaned his assent, raking a hand through his unruly curls.

You were already so high strung, so pent up, that it didn’t take long for you to bring yourself to the precipice. And as you approached to your end, expression contorting in pleasure, Joel’s eyes dragged upward to focus on your face instead of your pussy. Devastated, his eyes flicked once back down to your slick fingers, unsure of what he wanted to see more, before steadfastly holding eye contact with you. And as the high washed over you in sharp, twitching waves, he held your gaze, eyes raking across your features and delighting in the way your jaw hung open in a stupor. 

You rode the waves of your pleasure for a moment, only the stopping the ministrations of your soaked fingers when your clit began to burn with oversensitivity. Your eyes slowly flicked open to find Joel’s gaze still trained on your face, although his expression was lax now. His lips formed a small, somewhat dazed smile, and you felt heat rise in your neck at the way he stared at you. All lust forgotten for a moment, he simply watched.  

“What’re you lookin’ at?” you teased softly, your own mouth lilting into a grin.

“I’m admirin’ you,” he repeated your words from earlier in the night, and you huffed out a short laugh.

“You were so good, Joel,” you responded kindly, leaning forward on trembling legs to cup his face. “So patient, let me fuck myself on top of you and didn’t try to touch me once. Did everything I asked, just like you said you would.”

“Of course,” he murmured, turning to press a chaste kiss to the inside of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

Confusion flitted through you, and then you relaxed, remembering the way he had cursed at you. “It’s okay, honey. Why don’t you c’mere?”

Still smiling, he pushed back into a seated position, this time pressing his chest flush to yours. You looped an arm around his neck, toying with the short curls at the base of his neck as he lined himself back up to your entrance. Once he was in position, he gave you a quick look to check in, and in response you simply sunk your hips over him, letting him fill you to the brim once more. He sighed in relief, forehead pressing against yours.

Tilting your chin forward, you dragged your lips lightly across his, kissing him for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Where do you want to touch me?” you asked.

“Everywhere,” he breathed into your mouth.

Your fingers tightened on the back of his neck, tongue trailing lazily along the seam of his lips. “Then touch me, baby.”

His hands were on you in a second. Calloused palms running over the skin of your back, your shoulders, your hips, fingers gripping flesh for leverage as he began to fuck up into you. He had always been an attentive lover, with a keen eye for attention to detail. And it was never as apparent as when he was touching you. Because as he held you against his chest, dragging you harshly over his cock, he did everything just the way you liked it - the way you did it when you were touching yourself.

His palm pushed on your lower stomach, applying pressure there to intensify the feeling against your g-spot. And when your hands drifted to touch your breasts, his hands came up to cover yours, and you squeezed them together until he brushed your hands away to twist and play with one of your nipples, mouth dropping to flick his tongue against the other.  

It was intoxicating. Both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other, of finally throwing out the pretence and just being together, that you found yourself hurtling towards the edge faster than ever.

As if he read your mind, Joel’s mouth left your breast, face pulling back to watch you, saying “I’m not gonna last.”

“It’s okay,” you panted heavily. “You can—I want you to come.”

“Need to feel you,” he frowned, shaking his head dizzily. “Want to feel you come around me, please.”

“I will,” you swore. “Come on, give it to me.”

“It’s yours,” he whimpered, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you to him. “Fuckin’ take it, it’s yours.”

His hips begun to falter in their movement, and you picked up the slack with ease, rotating your hips against him to maintain the pace he’d set. His cock jumped inside of you in quick, jerking movements, and as soon as you felt his hot release inside you, your own orgasm hit like a freight train, walls pulsing around him, sucking him in as deep as you could take him. Your vision blacked out for a second, the intensity of multiple orgasms finally catching up to you and making you almost lightheaded. Extended moans and laboured breaths mingled in the air, forming a raucous symphony as you rode out your highs. Sweat beaded across his temples and dripped down the hard lines of his face. Your lower half shook with the intensity of it, thighs bracketed firmly against the outside of his hips. Joel sung your name, wet lips pressing the word into the flesh of your neck and repeating it there, embedding it into your sweat-soaked skin like it was all he knew how to say anymore.

“Fuuck,” he dragged out once your hips stopped moving, his teeth nipping gently against your pulse point.  

“Oh honey,” you murmured, head lolling forward to peck his forehead. “Don’t tell me you’re throwing in the towel? I seem to remember you saying something about how I could fuck you again, and do whatever I want with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his shoulders shook as he laughed quietly, keeping his face hidden in the crook of your neck. “Give me a damn minute.”

Although you could feel his length softening inside of you, and a mix of both of your come was steadily seeping out past his girth to make a mess of your thighs, you didn’t move just yet. And Joel seemed more than content to stay put, his strong arms enveloping your body almost entirely as he held you against his chest, breaths slowly beginning to even out. You shifted your head to the side to peer at his face, smiling when you saw that his eyes had indeed fallen shut.

“Lay down,” you encouraged quietly, letting out a quiet huff of surprise when he simply fell backwards into the mattress, dragging you down with him. Adjusting your legs to rest more comfortably on either side of him, you laid your head against his collarbone, pressing soft kisses to the burning skin of his chest.

“Just a minute,” he mumbled in assurance, although his eyes stayed closed and his breaths deepened.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly. “Can I get you some water? Something to eat?”

He hummed; eyes cracking open to peer blearily at you. “Water sounds about right.” You nodded, moving to get up from the bed, but he held you down, palm solid on your lower back. “Not just yet though,” he added quickly. “Just stay with me for a minute.”

“Okay baby,” you kissed his collarbone, allowing him a few more minutes of rest before you forced him to drink a litre of water and allow you to clean him up. His fingers mindlessly traced a pattern onto the skin of your back, stirring goosebumps across your flesh.

Slowly, a smirk slid across your face and you tilted your chin up to gaze at him once more. “Just saying though—you should probably get out of here before my boyfriend gets home. He’s pretty quick to anger, and I have a feeling he’d kill you if he found out what we just did.”

Joel groaned loudly, hand reaching up to press over your mouth and muffle your laughter. “Jesus, do you ever stop talking?”

[tavolgisvist]

'Just call him on the phone'

Q: Aside from the millions you’ve been offered for a reunion concert, how did you feel about producer Lorne Michaels’s generous offer of thirty-two hundred dollars for appearing together on Saturday Night Live a few years ago?* A: Oh, yeah, Paul and I were together watching that show. He was visiting us at our place in the Dakota. We were watching it and almost went down to the studio, just as a gag. We nearly got into a cab, but we were actually too tired. Q: How did you and Paul happen to be watching TV together? A: That was a period when Paul just kept turning up at our door with a guitar. I would let him in, but finally I said to him**, “Please call before you come over. It’s not 1956, and turning up at the door isn’t the same anymore. You know, just give me a ring.” He was upset by that, but I didn’t mean it badly. I just meant that I was taking care of a baby all day, and some guy turns up at the door … But anyway, back on that night he and Linda walked in and he and I were just sitting there watching the show, and we went, Ha-ha, wouldn’t it be funny if we went down, but we didn’t. Q: Is that the last time you’ve seen Paul? A: Yes, but I didn’t mean it like that.

<...> Q: You say you haven’t really listened to Paul’s work and haven’t really talked to him since that night in your apartment— A: Really talked to him, no, that’s the operative word. I haven’t really talked to him in ten years. Because I haven’t spent time with him. I’ve been doing other things and so has he. You know, he’s got twenty five kids and about twenty million records out — how can he spend time talking? He’s always working.

(John Lennon, 1980, All We Are Saying, David Sheff)

*It was in 25 April 1976 **it was in 26 April 1976

Well, when I, when I was Just a little baby boy, Every night, every night I would call, Because your number, you know, Brought me such sweet joy. I've called your name, John, Every night since then But I ain't never, no, no, never Heard you calling me, My sweet, sweet babe, So, you know, you better call me back again, I call your operator but I still can't get through to you, Call me back again

(Call Me Back Again, presumably, 10 June 1976, Seattle)

Tell me, is she everything i see Or is she really not the one for me? We know, and though some may disagree But do they know the way we want to be? <…> Building something One thing made to last And holding something Special from the past And do I still believe in stories we've been told***? Are all the things she brings me worth their weight in gold? Oh yeah, (oh yeah) pure gold

(Pure Gold, Paul for Ringo, 1976)

***I remember when John and I were first hanging out together, I had a dream about digging in the garden with my hands. I’d dreamt that before but I’d never found anything other than an old tin can. But in this dream I found a gold coin. I kept digging and I found another. And another.The next day I told John about this amazing dream I’d had and he said, ‘That’s funny, I had the same dream’. So both of us had this dream of finding this treasure. And I suppose you could say it came true. I remember years later talking about it – ‘Remember that dream we had?’; ‘Yeah, that was far out’. So the message of that dream was: keep digging lads.'

(Paul McCartney to The Big Issue, Feb. 2012)

After you've gone And left me crying After you've gone Ain't no deny You'll feel blue You'll feel sad You'll miss the dearest pal that you ever had

There'll come a time And don't you forget it There'll come a time When you'll regret it****

Someday when you grow lonely Your heart will break like mine You want me only After you've gone After you've gone away

(After You've Gone, 1977, Paul's version - 'just for fun' as he said - of a 1918 popular song written by Turner Layton and Henry Creamer, and it's Frank Sinatra's (and Sophie Tucker!) version.

****the line 'Don't you forget it/When you'll regret it' reminds another old (not as old like After You've Gone but old) song -  I Love You And Don't You Forget It by Perry Como. The song, what our lads were singing in their early years so playfully:

Klas Burling: Tell us something about how you find a song… how you get the idea about a song, to write it down. John: Well, sometimes it's the words first, and then the music after. Klas Burling: Very often you've got a title, you know… Me and you, and everything like that? Paul: Yeah. We try to do that, to make it personal so it's… so we really mean it. When we sing a thing about 'I love you,' it's easier. John: (singing) 'And don't you forget it!' John & Paul: (singing together, jokingly) 'I love you and don't you forget it!' Paul: Well, you see, it's easier than singing something about the cat that lives on the hill, man. (laughter) Paul: It's a lot easier just to sing about what you feel yourself.

(August 23 1963, interview with Klas Burling)

Was I just dreaming or was it only yesterday I used to hold you in my arms And now a baby, and a another on the way [Indescernable] in a farm Now must we be alone? If it don’t feel right, don’t do it If it don’t look right, look right through it If it don’t feel right, don’t do it Just call him on the phone

(John Lennon, Real Life, Feb 1977)

We'd had a bread strike over here***** and I rang him and I was saying, What are you doing? He says. I'm baking some bread.' 'Oh! Me too.' Imagine, with the stereotypes, John and Paul talking about baking bread.

(Paul McCartney, May 2001, interview for Mojo magazine)

*****a bread strike in England was in Nov 1978

Q: Do you regret that your life has become so public? A: I realized that a good fifteen years ago. I remember actually thinking when I went on holiday somewhere, ‘God I’d really better start thinking now about keeping a few countries aside where we don’t sell records. I won’t be able to go anywhere without being recognized.’ But now I think, ‘Really, I’ve reached the point of no return. There’s no going back.’ Even if I didn’t want to sing anymore, I’d just be like Greta Garbo or Brigitte Bardot. They both retired but you’d never know it. John said this to me a year before he died. He said, ‘Be careful what you wish for, it might just come true.’ That’s the way I look at it. I wished for all this and I got it. To regret it would mean I’d have to sit here and live with negative thoughts about it. I know that would only sink me. Even if I had feelings of regret my personality would not really let them out. ‘Look mate, you don’t regret it. Look on the other side,’ that’s me. Not to sink. I always used to do that instinctively, and not allow too many negative thoughts to surface.

(Paul McCartney, April/May 1982, interview for Music Express)

The couple of years after the Beatles broke up it was very touchy because I think we suspected each other of business manoeuvres. So anyone would ring up, it would be like, “Why is he ringing?” And when you put up the defensive like that it’s very difficult to say, “I’m not! Honest!” You just don’t know where to put yourself. So we had a lot of those ups and downs for quite a few years. But the favourite thing was that if ever we talked not business – and what we ended doing, actually, was make a rule not to talk business on the phone – and on those occasions, we had really good vibes, man. And it was great; we just talked kids, we talked family, we talked cats, we talked life, rather than, “oh, what songs are doing with x business affair?” And one of the great things for me, one of the consolation prizes after John was killed, the only thing– you know, you find yourself holding on to little bits of wreckage to keep yourself afloat. And with me it was the fact that our last phonecall was really one of the best we ever had together; it was really warm, we were really friends again.

(Paul McCartney, 1984, interview for CBS Morning News)

Q: Do you remember your last conversation with John? A: Yes. That is a nice thing, a consoling factor for me, because I do feel it was sad that we never actually sat down and straightened our differences out. But fortunately for me, the last phone conversation I ever had with him was really great, and we didn’t have any kind of blowup. It could have easily been one of the other phone calls, when we blew up at each other and slammed the phone down. Q: Do you remember what you talked about? A: It was just a very happy conversation about his family, my family. Enjoying his life very much; Sean was a very big part of it. And thining about getting on with his career. I remember he said, “Oh, God, I’m like Aunt Mimi, padding round here in me dressing gown”– robe, as he called it, ’cause he was picking up the American vernacular –“feeding the cats in me robe and cooking and putting a cup of tea on. This housewife wants a career!” It was that time for him. He was about to launch Double Fantasy.******

(Paul McCartney, Dec 1984, interview for Playboy)

******Double Fantasy released 17 November 1980

I was lucky. The last few wee... months that he was alive, we’d managed to get our relationship back on track. And we were talking and having real good conversations. Real nice and friendly.

(Paul McCartney about This One, interview with Bernard Goldberg for the TV series 48 Hours, 1989)

[natalievoncatte]

“We should play truth or dare.”

Kara nearly choked on her wine when she realized what Lena had said. That sounded like an amazingly terrible and yet incredibly intriguing idea. She turned to say something when she caught Alex giving her a look that could shatter diamonds. Kara downed the last of her wine and said,

“It’s getting pretty late, Lena.”

“You’re no fun,” Lena said, poking Kara in the center of her chest for emphasis.

Kara was glad she was sober. It wasn’t entirely true that she was immune to alcohol- it just took about a gallon of grain alcohol for her to feel a mild buzz for a few minutes, then have to run to the bathroom as her superhuman metabolism almost instantly forced it out of her system. Alex had “helped” her discover that once back in high school, and they both ended up grounded for a month.

“Come on, Kara. This way I can find out where you’re always running off to. In vino, veritas.”

Kara looked around and saw her own mirrored panic rising in the others. Kelly looked on from the kitchen, the only other member of their little group who was oblivious to the sheer weight of what Lena just said. Nia looked even more green than she had a moment earlier, and Alex was giving Kara a warning look, shaking her head behind Lena.

Brainy, for his part, remained mellow, sipping his grape soda. He was the designated driver for the night.

“Yeah, we need to go,” Nia threw in. “It’s been fun but I have an early day tomorrow.”

“It’s Saturday,” Lena protested, but it came out shaturday.

“I have to get up for yoga,” said Nia.

“We’re all in the same class on Thursday,” said Lena.

“Um, I’m getting ready for the yoga championships. Extra classes.”

Lena raised an arched brow.

Alex cut in, suddenly. “Kelly babe, you ready?”

“If you are. I was going to see if Kara needs help with the dishes.”

“I’m fine,” Kara called out, hearing the alarm in her own voice.

“Lena, are you riding with us?”

“Nah,” said Lena. “I’ll stay.”

Alex cleared her throat.

“How will you get home? You’re sauced, Miss Luthor.”

Lena grinned and looked over at Kara. “I’ll just stay over. I do it all the time.”

Alex’s brows climbed up and she turned to Kara with an incredulous expression.

“When did that start?”

“It’s no big deal. I live on the other side of town and Kara has a nice couch.”

Alex seemed to relax a little. Kara’s heart was trying to slam through her ribs.

“Okay.”

They all bundled out of the apartment, with Alex promising to text and Brainy swearing to let Kara know they were all home safe.

Kara closed the door behind them and turned around. Lena was still curled up on the couch, swirling the last of her wine in the bottom of the glass. She was in leggings and a big, baggy sweater that had been pulled to one side so hard that it almost bared her shoulder. Her hair was down and had gone wavy, falling over one half of her face, making her mysterious and distant. She downed the last swig of wine and put the glass down.

“We could still play truth or dare.”

“Lena,” said Kara. “You’re really drunk.”

“So are you.”

Kara swallowed, hard, feeling the bitter bile of her lies at the back of her throat. She wasn’t drunk at all. She was barely even tired; the city had been miraculously calm all summer.

“Which is it, Kara? Truth or dare.”

“Neither,” said Kara. “I think what you need is some sleep.”

Lena rested her glass on the coffee table, in the middle of a game of Monopoly that they’d all been too drunk to finish.

(Except Kara. Lena would have won, because Kara always agreed to whatever trade Lena offered, because saying no to Lena was harder than lifting a submarine over her head)

Kara leaned back against the kitchen counter coolly, trying not to betray her emotions. That turned into a job for Supergirl as Lena rose from the sofa with seductive grace, stalking across the loft with feline intensity. She was at once cuddly and soft in her sweater and a seductive vamp with her long inky locks pulled over one shoulder and the other bare.

Kara’s eyes locked on the bared skin, soft and creamy and crying out for a warm touch, then pulled away sharply as she willed herself not to ogle her best friend. It was a losing battle. Every step brought Kara back to the sway of her hips or the way her leggings gripped her thighs or the soft promise of her curves beneath that sweater.

Kara was starting to think she might be gay.

Lena stepped into her space. With both of them barefoot, Kara had a notable height advantage. Lena reduced it by rising on her tiptoes and threw her arms around Kara’s neck.

Kara had few weaknesses. Kryptonite. Magic. If kept up long enough, oxygen deprivation.

Lena Luthor.

She was so close that Kara could taste her breath, the fruity tang of the wine and the soft, inviting scent of Lena beneath her perfume. She was wearing a soft pink lip gloss that drew Kara to stare at her lips. She could almost feel them without touching. Her blue-green eyes were dark and sultry, and she leaned in on Kara, pressing the soft weight of her breasts against her chest.

Kara’s pulse went like a hummingbird and her knees went wobbly, but she simply ignored gravity.

Kara had other advantages. She could see the heat bloom on her skin and feel the change in he skin conductivity, and hear her heart racing. Lena’s pulse nearly matched her own.

Before she knew what she was doing, Kara had her hands resting on Lena’s sides just above her hips, moving on pure instinct. All she’d have to do was dip her head a fraction and she’d be kissing her. She was so close.

“Please pick dare,” Lena whispered.

It too every fiber of her being not to say “dare,” but she held her tongue. She also held Lena.

“I can’t. You’re drunk and I’m not.”

“Hi drunk, I’m dad.”

“Lena! This is serious!”

“Oh, you’re serious. I thought you were daddy.”

“Lena!”

“I dare you to…”

Kara pressed her finger to Lena’s lips.

“Lena, please listen. You’re drunk. I’m not. If you still want to do… whatever this is… in the morning, I… I want that. But not like this.”

Lena frowned and Kara thought she might die of sheer sorrow right there.

“Okay. Should I go home?”

“No, absolutely not. Just… do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll explain in the morning. I promise I’ll,” she swallowed hard, choking down the fear. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“Okay.”

Kara sighed and scooped Lena up, easily taking her weight in her arms. Lena yelped and hugged tight around her, clinging close and pressing cheek to cheek. Kara wanted to kiss her so bad that it ached in her chest, throbbed in her veins, but she didn’t. She carried her to the couch.

“Wait,” Lena said. “Can’t I sleep in the bed with you? I promise I won’t try anything.”

Kara nodded, mentally wincing. She carried Lena around to the bed and laid her down, drawing the blankets over her and settling her head on the pillow.

She had a choice to make her. The right thing to do, the honorable and chivalrous thing, would be to go sleep on the couch. She knew that, but the very idea of it was anathema to her.

To her credit, she stepped out of the bedroom to change and she put on pajama bottoms.

Kara took the far side of the bed, staring straight up. She didn’t expect to sleep a wink, but somehow she drifted off.

When she woke up, there was a weight on her. She looked down and found Lena pillowed on her chest. With a sigh, Kara rolled onto her side and drew Lena close, sheltering the other woman in her arms. In sleep she looked peaceful, so free of the worries and fears and anxieties that dogged her when she was awake.

Kara knew she should stop stroking Lena’s hair, knew she should let go of her, but the soft, hypnotic beat of Lena’s heart was nothing she could escape. She held Lena a little tighter, her own heart fluttering when Lena murmured her name on her sleep and hugged her back.

They woke up like that, Lena tucked in close under Kara’s chin. Lena was already awake when Kara woke up.

“Hi,” said Lena.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“Head hurts.”

“I’ll get you something,” Kara said, starting to rise.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Lena, tugging her back down. “You said you were going to tell me everything.”

Kara froze.

“How much of last night do you remember?”

“I remember the part where I tried to climb you like a tree and you bridal-carried me to bed and tucked me in,” said Lena. “And the part where you started hugging me like a teddy bear.”

“You started that.”

Lena snorted. “Why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Like I said, you were drunk, and I can’t… not until I… you don’t know everything.”

Lena sighed, looking away, and then looked up.

“So, truth then. Are you Supergirl?”

Kara flinched back, momentarily struck numb. If she was asking that, it meant she knew the answer.

Lena stared at her hopefully, almost pleadingly, her big pretty eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She bit her lip and Kara melted, feeling herself turn to goo.

“Yes.”

Lena let out a long sigh of blessed relief, closing her eyes.

“Lena?”

“It’s my turn. I pick truth.”

“Okay, um,” said Kara, “why did you ask me why I didn’t kiss you?”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Because you’ve been staring at me like I’m a bowl of potstickers for years, and I was wondering if you were ever going to make a move.”

“Why would I look at you like you’re food?”

“I meant you were looking at me like I’m something you want to eat, Kara.”

“I’m not that kind of alien.”

Lena tensed, breathing sharply as she looked stunned and a little hurt.

“Wait,” Kara blurted, “oh Rao that was a joke, I didn’t mean I don’t want to… I really do want… I just , I’m… I don’t know what to say now.”

“I’m in love with you,” Lena sighed.

Kara froze. “You… you’re… with me… IIloveyoutoo.”

The mashed-together declaration had barely escaped her lips when Lena lunged closer and kissed her. From there it was pure chaos. Lena pulled and Kara followed, rapidly ending up on top of her as she shimmied out of last night’s outfit.

Kara pulled back from a soul-burning kiss as she felt the heat of Lena’s bare skin under her hands.

“Wait,” she said. “If I picked truth last night, what would you have asked?”

Lena smirked.

“Why do you stare at my chest all the time?”

Kara laughed, snorting a little.

“I’ll show you.”

[honeyawa]

cherry kisses and bites +

( featuring ) gojo satoru.

"shoko, oh my god- shoko!"

you're panicking. your fingers are tapping on the table repetitively. your heart is going on a marathon. you're pacing around your room, waiting for shoko to pick up the phone after 5 continuous calls. the time reads 10:13 pm on a saturday night, which makes you wonder: what could she be doing that is so important over her best friend's possible death?

left to your own devices and the incessant notifications from your phone, notifying that both gojo satoru and geto suguru have messaged you, with the occasional calls that you stared at until they were gone.

it was safe to say your life took the "god gave the toughest fights to his strongest soldiers" a bit too hard after all this fiasco.

i mean, what led you to not check on who you were texting before sending an impressive amount of messages all about your-man-who-doesn't-know-he's-your-man (gojo)? the information being handled was of high value! all for it to be wasted in less than 3 minutes because you actually texted your-man-who-doesn't-know-he's-your-man (gojo) instead of your best friend, and now he knows that you like him!

with your phone across the room because you couldn't trust yourself not to peek at the hundreds of messages waiting to be read, all you could do was wait impatiently until shoko picks up. which turns out to be one of the hardest things you've done to the point where you wouldn't be surprised if you turned into a madman at the end of the night—

"confessing on text is crazy, but hey at least you got the job done, right?"

ah, she picked up.

"if you don't see me tomorrow," you pause, considering using all your money and buying plane tickets to travel across the country because you aren't a confrontational person, at all. "just know that i'm dead and i'm gone or i left the country."

"no you won't. plus, you don't even know if he likes you back or not because i know you haven't checked the messages."

"i don't need to know. i'm not—" you cut yourself off after processing what she first said when she picked up. "wait… how do you even know what happened?!"

"we will cross the bridge when we come to it," she responds, though not really responding to the question because she's avoiding it. "nuh uh! tell me how you know!" she's hiding something from you, and you know it. luckily, it doesn't take that long for you to connect the dots together. "were you on a call with them?"

she stays quiet.

aha! talk about accuracy. shoko never stays quiet unless she was found out. you couldn't believe it. your best friend, the one supposed to be with you through the highs and lows, through the thick and thin, was being friendly to the now turned enemy while you were on a crisis?!

"shoko…" cue a sniffle from you, "how could you do this to me?" (okay, maybe you were being a little dramatic, but they don't call you the drama queen for nothing!) you could tell she was starting to get annoyed by that sigh she just let out. it was just a matter of time until she snaps on the low key and gives you an order.

and that moment starts in 3…

2..

1..

"just shut the fuck up and check the messages from him." a beep comes shortly after.

.

..

…

oh, okay.

you're being fed straight to the sharks (or shark in your case). okay. wow. you just can't believe this. was she hoping for your downfall that much? ouch. with no one else left to be your emotional support, you have to give yourself courage to finally check what he sent you.

you take a huge gulp, and with shaky fingers, you slowly press on your texts.

unexpectedly, it felt like a giant rock was lifted off your back. the first messages you read didn't contain any "i'm sorry but i don't feel the same way" "you're like a sister to me" "i want to focus on myself" "i only see you as a friend" etc. it did, however, contain many variations of "OPICK UP THE PHONE" "i know you see this." "Text Me Back." texts.

one that did manage to catch your eye was the "watch out. i'm coming to your house right now." wait, he's not actually coming to your house right? (he most definitely is.)

you think your eyes are about to fall out of their sockets.

the feeling of relief that just came by? vanished. crushed. obliterated. annihilated. it feels like everything is back to step one, fuck. what could be better than calling your dear friend shoko once more and start ranting again? nothing. so you went ahead and just did that.

"the person you tried to reach is not available, your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system."

you think you might just cry.

to make matters worse, at that very moment, someone rang your doorbell. finger crossed and chanting "it's not satoru" over and over again, you clench your eyes and hope that it is indeed not gojo satoru.

but life seemed to have something against you, as you hear a very familiar voice talking to your mom, the voice of the one person you didn't want to see right now.

who is it? well, ladies, gentlemen, and non-binary folks, it appears to be gojo satoru! (is the world revolving around him now?)

oblivious to the quiet footsteps marching up the stairs, you mull about where to hide. maybe under your bed? no, that's too freaking obvious, plus you don't know if you would still fit after all those years. the closet seemed to be a fine choice until you realize that's the second most obvious place to hide too.

deep into thinking, you seem to have forgotten that the enemy is quite literally in your house, and in front of your bedroom door no less.

baam! your door swings open with enough force to send you flying and landing on your ass.

"why didn't you say anything!?" alright! straight to the point! and by shouting too!

"what the fuck do you mean?!" you shout back, matching his tone and everything in between, which is laced with confusion because you weren't really the one to catch things from the get-go.

"i mean," he starts and pauses, you notice that his chest is rising and falling at a quick pace. he must've ran here. (deep breaths gojo.) "why didn't you tell me that you liked me back for 4 whole years?"

"maybe because i didn't want to get rejected and throw away what we had?"

"well, why did you think you were going to get rejected?" he questioned. it seemed like he was implying that he does like you and this is not just a one-sided romance, seemed like..

but, did he say it outright? no. thus why you're still assuming he doesn't like you. you're no delusional bitch.

"um, maybe, just maybe, because you don't like me?" (you really got the dragging effect on the second maybe, it was perfect, from duration to pronunciation too.)

okay. why is he blankly looking at you now? as if you said the most out-of-pocket thing ever. why does it seem like everyone is judging you all of a sudden?!

"wait so, you mean, you still haven't gotten the hint yet?"

"does i look like a pirate on a treasure hunt for you to be talking about hints? might as well give me that uma costume and a map too." your arms are crossed, you're leaning to the left, and your right foot is repetitively tapping against the floor.

(gojo had a laughing fit when you did that.)

"sorry queen, i take that back." after every word, he giggles like a newborn when they see you embarrassing yourself in front of them. "what i meant to say was, i do like you back!"

"nuh uh."

"the fuck you mean 'nuh uh'?"

"wheres the camera at? i need to make sure i was photogenic during the whole video!"

"there is no camera. im hurt you think i would do something like this to you" his hands are covering the area where his heart was unless it decided to travel and go to his eyelids just for him to randomly feel the pulse at a place it shouldn't be.

"oh!" okay wait, so he did like you... you feel like everything is a fever dream right now, or that you're about to faint. you can't tell the difference.

"can i kiss you? you look so cute right now." hes currently squishing and pulling your cheeks so you can't say things properly. what you can do though, is bite (or try to) his hand the next time he goes in for an attack. ow!

"eat a cherry before."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝒩 𝑜 𝓉 𝑒 𝓈 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

gojo, did infact, eat a cherry

“its too early!!” yall known eachother since the womb and acted like a couple for 4 years. it speaks enough.

if you havent noticed by now, you are oblivious. so very much so it make sashisu want to throw you on a train track and watch you get ran over (affectionately)

you were actually studying for an upcoming exam until you decided to take a little 1 hour break! (it was originally a 15 minute break but tiktok flirted with you saur..)

your mother was actually leaving when gojo came so she wasnt there with experience all the shouting

you think she wouldve thought you guys broke up (you were never together) and wouldve bought you anything you wanted + ice cream

getos messages are still left unread. (next time you see him your gonna catch it on SITE)

[rebelwrites]

Only Over When We Are Sober

Jax Teller x Reader

Jax Teller Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Hello I know it has been a while 🥺 not sure if people still remember me but this song has been playing over and over in my mind along with this story. This isn’t me coming back to writing but this story was just hard to keep contained. Hope you enjoy ❤️

Jax stared at the ceiling, his head was spinning, the headache was starting to take over. It wasn’t the first time he woke up with a hangover, and just like all the times before the smell of your perfume was invading his senses.

He slowly started to open his eyes, letting himself adjust to the brightness of the dorm room, he always cursed himself for never fixing the blind. Reaching out he felt nothing but emptiness, it was the same feeling every time, it had become expected. Yet with each time it caused his chest to tighten, feeling his heart weigh heavy. Finally he propped himself up so he was leaning against the headboard before pulling a smoke to his lips. It was as if he was on autopilot, in a way he was, this was a routine he had gotten used to over the last six months.

Dropping his gaze he took a long drag of the cigarette, everywhere he looked there were reminders of you, the marks on the pillow case from you finally falling asleep with a full face of makeup on to the lonely hair tie that was currently sitting on the bedside table. He knew the two of you were a toxic mix but every weekend you both partook in the dance that had become so familiar. It had been over a year since you broke up but there was a pull, like moths to the flame you couldn’t stay away from each other.

The only time you stayed broken up was when you were both sober.

He knew you would have been long gone by now, it was always the same come morning. You would bolt from his dorm, ignoring everyone as you scurried out of the club house, retreating to the safety of your car. It was something he hated, you were the love of his life but for whatever reason the fire between the two of you burnt bright and strong and in turn caused you both to get burned.

“Thought you two had called it quits?” Gemma asked, appearing in the doorway holding a fresh mug of coffee for her son.

“Same old story,” the blonde shrugged, taking another drag of the cigarette, “we never believe it’s truly goodbye, always wanting closure. I guess that’s what you get when we have the same friends and run with the same crowds.”

Gemma could see the pain that her son felt, it was something that no matter how hard he tried to hide, his eyes told the whole story. Every Sunday morning the sparkle in his baby blue eyes had been extinguished when the harsh reality that the love of his life wasn’t his anymore came crashing down around him.

For the last month he had found himself looking forward to a Friday and Saturday night when the party would be in full swing. And tonight was no different.

He slipped onto the usual stool at the bar, lit a cigarette between his fingers and a bottle of whiskey sat in front of him, all whilst his eyes never moved from the clock behind the bar. With each second that passed he felt his heart rate double waiting for seven pm to strike.

Taking a deep breath you placed your hand on the cold metal door that led you down one path, the one that ended up with you tangled in Jax’s sheets even though you swear every week was the last. You just needed to move on but how could you when that boy was the only one to hold your heart.

Pushing the heavy door open, it felt like there was no one else in the room apart from you and Jax. Part of you hated that he still had such a hold over you.

Everything happened like it normally did, you’d ignore him at first, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t feel his gaze burning into your soul. You know that within the next hour you would be sharing shots and the dance would begin.

Soon enough you found yourself sliding onto the empty stool next to him, taking the lit cigarette from his fingers taking a long drag, before flipping over the shot glasses.

“I hate you, Teller,” you huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you knocked the shot back.

“Ditto,” he hummed, holding his shot glass up in the air before following your actions, emptying the small glass before slamming it down on the bar top.

Three shots. That’s all it took for the “I hate you” turned into the “I miss you”.

Everyone thought it was over between the two of you, and for the most part it was but only when there wasn’t alcohol coursing through your veins.

“If this is love Jax then we are fucking bad at it,” you huffed, pouring two more shots of the amber liquid.

He half smiled, reaching out letting his hand settle on your bare thigh, his fingers slowly stroking your skin causing the hem of your dress to rise a little. Even now his touch still caused sparks to erupt across your skin, he left a fire in his wake and no one could compare to Jackson Teller.

Neither of you shared many words, both afraid that if you did speak then this unspoken agreement would end. You knew it probably should but you just couldn’t bring yourself to call quits on the man that held your heart in his hand and you knew you held his in yours.

The scowls quickly turned into soft smiles, touches started to linger, the sound of laughter cocooned the both of you and the level in the bottle was getting lower.

Everyone, including the crow eaters, knew to leave the two of you alone, as the clock ticked on the closer you and Jax got. You had moved from the bar to one of the booths and were now straddling him, both hands on the side of his face, fingers gently running through his beard.

No words were spoken, you were both getting lost in each other's eyes. The smirk on his face was growing, the feeling of his arms wrapped around the one person he would lay his life on the line for without a second thought. He took a deep breath, letting his gaze flick between your eyes and your lips, everything was in slow motion as you edged close to him, not stopping until your lips touched causing fireworks to ignite deep in both of your souls.

In one swift motion Jax adjusted his grip, pushing himself to his feet all whilst not pulling away from the kiss. Maneuvering his way through the clubhouse, he savored this moment because for the next two nights the world would feel right again with you in his arms.

Even though come Sunday morning, he knew the cycle would start all over again, because when it came to you and Jax it was only over when you were both sober.

@chibsytelford @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @withmyteeth @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @princess76179 @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @princess76179 @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @lmao-liz @babypink224221 @daddysgirl2857 @bravo-four-seal-team @garbinge @pedrohoe04 @littlekittymeow @nichia88-blog @zozebo

[springgirlshowers]

Cool About It

Summary: You’re face to face with your ex outside of a bar after three years of no contact, is there any point of talking to him?

Pairing: Joost x Reader

CW: smoking, cursing, arguing, poorly proofread, angst with a happy ending tho! ;P

WC: 1,935

A/N: i can’t write a summary for the life of me + wooooo feeling angsty tonight guys

When Joost left he told you he would be gone for a long time. You knew that of course.

He told you he would have to leave and travel constantly if he wanted his career to grow, which you were fine with. You wanted nothing more than to see it happen.

With school and working for yourself, you weren’t able to come along with Joost on his tour and to the festivals he was performing at. That was okay with you!

As long as you could still text and call and video chat with him you were fine. Of course, you absolutely missed him during it, but you could put up with the temporary long distance.

However Joost, felt the opposite apparently.

To be fair, you knew it was gonna be difficult being together yet so far apart.

Joost ended things with you, telling you he didn’t think your relationship with him would work constantly being gone. He'd also told you not to take it personally, and you had. Like an idiot.

You were heartbroken at first. Crying and pitying yourself, questioning why he did it. Even though he already gave you an answer.

Soon your sadness turned to anger, it never changed after that. You’ve been angry at him since he sent that text.

Joost <3: I don’t think this is working

It was a piss poor way of breaking up, the delivery of it was shitty enough, it being over text just made it worse.

The way he worded some of the things he said for his reasoning made it feel like you were a rock in his shoe, or an obstacle in his path to fame.

Yet, you were civil with him when he broke up with you, you never really shared your feelings and emotions on it with him afterwards. Why would you? You weren’t his girlfriend anymore. It wasn’t your place to.

Joost never knew how angry you were with him, you weren’t sure if unfollowing him really showed that. Maybe blocking him did, if he even ever noticed. You were just sick of seeing his face and posts pop up on your feed.

You haven’t seen him, haven’t talked to him since he broke up with you. It’s been three years and not a word has been said to each other.

You expected it to stay that way within the next years and so on. Until you saw him walking around with his friends in the same bar as you during a night in June.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" You said angrily.

"It's a Saturday night, this is a public bar, i'm not sure you can blame him for being here." Your friend shrugged disappointingly.

"Yeah I know." You sighed, "Just…why'd he have to come to this one tonight though? There's like ten other places he could've gone." You thought out loud, muttering. Your friend gave you a sympathetic frown as you rubbed your face.

“You know what, whatever, I’m gonna go for a smoke, you wanna come?” You nodded to the back door of the bar.

“No, I’ll watch over our drinks. You have fun.” She joked, you smiled and told her you’d be back in a few.

You were more than relieved to see that the back wall of the outside of the bar was empty. No other smokers or couples making out. You really needed a moment alone, seeing Joost made it feel like the air got knocked out of you.

You grabbed your pack of cigs, pulling one out and leaving it hanging from your mouth while you rummaged around your bag for a lighter.

You groaned out loud in frustration, desperately looking around the rest of your items for the one you usually had on hand.

While you were too busy searching, you didn’t pay any attention to the door that opened and closed behind you.

“Need a light?” A familiar deep voice asked, you turned to see him. Joost standing in front of you, lighter in hand and an awkward look on his face.

Now it felt like you couldn’t breathe at all.

Although it felt like a lifetime since you’d seen him, it hadn't been that long. It’s really just been a few years.

You just stared at him as he lit your cigarette without hesitation. You snapped back into this moment, inhaling and nodding as your way of saying “Thanks.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Joost said, pulling out a cigarette from his own pack.

“Yeah? A person can change a lot in three years.” The delivery of your sentence was venomous. It felt like every word was laced with poison to Joost. It made him pause for just a split second, giving him a small hint of how angry you still were at him.

He stayed silent, so did you. The only noise being the flick of his lighter and traffic in the distance.

The brick wall felt cold and jagged on your back, you debated if you should just stomp out your cig and just go back inside already.

“So how's everything been for you?” Joost broke the silence.

“Fine. Great.” You said stoically, Joost hummed in response.

You weren’t going to ask him the same question. You’d already knew how great he’d been doing. You’d saw all about it, read all about it, heard all about it, and honestly, you were sick of it.

He was getting where he wanted to be, good for him. You just wished you didn’t have to hear all about it.

"Number one in Germany, huh?" You said as exhaled smoke, a hint of anger still in your voice.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” He let out a nervous laugh, “Insane isn’t it?” He itched at his arm.

“Yeah. Good for you though.” You spat, suddenly remembering how he made you feel like you were in his way to success.

“You don’t sound very excited about it.”

“Really?” You said sarcastically, flicking ash. Joost just nodded and cleared his throat, taking another inhale.

“I still have your shit in my closet. In a box.” You spoke out, keeping your eyes away from his.

He never came back for any of his shared clothing. You were kind enough to fold all his shirts that were hanging in your closet and put them in a cardboard box. Which you planned on giving him once he got back, but he never came back for it, never texted asking. So now they just sat in the back corner of your closet, collecting dust.

“Oh.” He said softly. Heart hurting a bit at the fact you never got rid of his stuff.

“Yeah. You’re free to take it back any day now. I’m tired of being reminded of it every time I need to pick out something to wear.” You sighed, you were halfway done with your smoke.

“I can understand if you’re upset.” He looked down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I know we ended things at a weird time.” His words made your blood boil.

We? We ended things? No. You. You were the one to end things. I didn’t want anything to end, you did, Joost. That’s what you wanted to spit at him. Instead you gave him a watered down version of it.

“You gave up on us, not me.” You said, exhaling, desperately trying to keep your cool.

“I don’t think I’d call it giving up…” He mumbled.

“No, you gave up. We hit a difficult patch and you were too much of an ass to push through it so you gave up.” Your mouth was moving faster than your brain, you didn’t mean to be so harsh or to argue. But you’ve been holding in all this anger for the past three years, now it was all spilling out.

Your chest was rising and falling in frustrated breaths, you blinked away the glaze that formed over your eyes. You waited for a response.

Joost opened his mouth, beginning to say something, but then closing it.

“Don’t even know why I bothered.” You muttered, letting out a sigh and shaking your head as you stomped out your cigarette.

Before you could start moving, Joost finally spoke.

“I thought I’d just continue to hurt you if I kept it going.” His voice was soft. It wasn’t the response you were hoping for, but you were sure what you were expecting anyways.

“Hurt me?” You asked, complete disbelief in your voice.

“I was gone for months. You’re telling me that you were fine with it? That it didn’t bother you?” He threw his cigarette down, grinding his shoe into the bud.

“It did bother me a little sometimes. I missed you the entire time. But I knew you were doing what you wanted to do for so long.” You took a step towards him, “I knew performing made you happy. I wasn’t gonna stop you from that. You were happy, I was happy.” You shrugged, trying desperately to keep back the tears that were going to form in your eyes.

It was the truth. You loved hearing the excitement in his voice when he’d call you just before shows, hearing the smile in his voice made one appear on your face as well.

“I cared for you so much. So much. I tried so hard to keep everything together and you just threw it all away. You made me feel like some kind of burden.” You could hear your voice begin to crack while your eyes watered, you didn’t want him to see you so emotional. You shoved past him, heading for the door.

“I never stopped caring about you. I need you to know that.” Joost spoke out, causing you to stop. He wanted to say a different word than “caring”, a stronger word, but he didn’t think he was brave enough for it. You turned around, eyes looking at the cement instead of at him.

“You were never a burden to me, liefje. Never.” Even though his voice was soft, his words were hitting you, your eyes finally met his. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have ended things like that. I shouldn’t have ended things at all.” He stepped closer to you, hand grazing your cheekbone. Eventually both hands coming up to gently cup your face.

“I was such an asshole. You didn’t deserve that, any of that.” Joost felt your jaw clench, your attempt to keep your lip from wobbling as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. His own eyes were beginning to water.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” You heard the crack in his voice, and that was enough to cause you to break, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks.

And of course, the next thing he said was the final blow to cause your upcoming breakdown.

“I never stopped loving you.” His voice was barely a whisper, yet still loud enough for the both of you to hear it. You let out an embarrassingly loud sob and wrapped your arms around him, face shoved and sobbing into his chest.

Joost sweetly shushed you as he rubbed a hand up and down your back, lightly swaying the both of you as he let a few tears fall from his own eyes.

You really wanted to kiss him, you really did. You would’ve at this moment if you weren’t bawling and wheezing out tears. However, Joost was fine with it, as long as he knew he had you back, in his arms, he was fine.

Joost having you here with him, he was fine with that.

[cupidzgf]

FACETIME | SATORU GOJO

☁︎‎‎‧₊˚ summary: have you seen those tiktoks with girls talking about how they've been "traumatized" on facetime because their boyfriends said, "keep talking" while secretly getting off to their girlfriend's voice over an innocent call? let me set the scene for you…

contents: mdni, nsfw, afab reader, male masturbation, a little bit of sub satoru, voice kink, basically one-sided phone sex, lmk if i missed anything, w/c: 1.5k

SATORU lies on facetime with you in the late hours of the night. he's been across the country for the past two weeks due to a cursed womb (or so he says; you never understand what he is talking about). so you two settled for calling one another any night he was available, even though he loved to rub, "aww, did you miss me, sweetheart? i bet you're bedridden with sadness over my departure," in your face.

week two comes to a close on saturday night, and still, he's stuck with another sorcerer he claims "gets in the way of his technique" and is "virtually useless." you try to remind him to be kind, but it goes in one ear and right out the other.

he had already recounted his day to you, albeit tiredly, but he filled you in with the same happy-go-lucky attitude you're used to from his luxurious hotel bed as he turned his attention to you for you to do the same. throughout your recollection of the past three days, he grows increasingly antsy, fidgeting too much for it to be nothing. his phone constantly scrapes against the bed sheets as he adjusts the angle, but you don't comment on it, more focused on how nice it is to talk to him after three days since your last call.

no matter how much gojo is gone, it never ceases to leave a hollow hole in your chest, crawling with pits of negative emotions. knowing bits and pieces of the danger he faces does nothing to ease your worried consciousness over his well-being when he's away. he knows this and does well to accommodate the loneliness and anxiety that follows his absence, ensuing these calls when he can. not that he isn't as obsessed with you as you are with him, but he's more considerate than most people give him credit for.

you continue recounting the details of work and its latest drama, something satoru is usually very attentive to. in his line of work, drama comes in a much different form, which is why you assume that yours is a distraction from his. yet his lack of response begins to raise warning flags. his typically energetic and reassuring demeanor is replaced by eerie silence. questions about his behavior start to filter and infiltrate your scrambling thoughts.

it was easy to assume that it was your fault. maybe he was tired and didn't want to hear you ramble? perhaps he doesn't want to be rude and tell you to shut up? what if you're annoying or boring him? even as he's assured you hundreds of times before how he loves to hear you talk and share your life with him, the insecure part of your mind starts to turn on you with bared teeth and fangs.

as you finish your sentence, a beat of silence passes, and you wait with bated breath for a huff of laughter that never comes. he doesn't respond, heavy breathing filtering through your phone's speakers so quietly you have to strain your ears to hear it. you furrow your eyebrows, biting your nails as the silence stretches on.

"toru?" you softly ask, tilting your phone screen to get a better angle of the dark room staring back at you through the screen. the hotel room provided little in the way of light.

"yeah?" he replies, his voice strained with a tinge of breathlessness.

"are you okay? you're not injured, right?"

a shaky hum vibrates your phone ever so slightly, and you catch a glimpse of his spikes of white hair in the darkness. "yeah…yeah, sweet cheeks, just keep talkin' f'me, alright?" i'm close, goes unspoken, but he's too focused on the sound of your voice that could have only been gifted by the heavens and his hard, leaking cock to dwell further.

it's been two weeks, and he feels like he will go insane before the semi-grade 1 he's supposed to supervise exercises the curse.

suguru had recommended that the kid be moved to a grade 1 sorcerer, which was fine with him. he didn't interact with his juniors often but figured his calmer other half had a plan. why should he care? that was until he'd been put on assignment with him to exorcise a special grade halfway across the country, and suddenly, he cared a whole fucking lot.

it had only been because of suguru and leiri that he didn't whine and complain until they assigned someone else about why he, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, was given something so….so….(suguru hadn't let him finish the sentence before he was given a cold glare). but the old bastards had a way of making his life hell, and now he was left to sleep in a rundown hotel (the kid insisted it was the fanciest thing he'd ever seen), pent-up and irritated out of his mind.

you, however, had been his saving grace when after a particularly long day, you called him. sporting the cute pajama set he likes to smack your ass in, how was he not supposed to find your voice attractive? i mean, come on, he hadn't even had time to jerk off in those two weeks; what was he supposed to do? not as quietly as possible, take his cock out of his pants?

at your end of the call, his out-of-character attitude makes you suspicious. however, for the sake of conversation, you attempt to brush it off until it hits you, and you pause for your next word. "what are you doing?"

silence. you are met with piercing silence and then an unsteady chuckle. you can imagine him shaking his head as he clears his throat uncomfortably. "listening to you, whad'ya ask?"

"you're really quiet…and i can't see you. if you don't want to listen to me, just say so," you murmur softly, delicately even. the next second, there's a poorly concealed grunt, teetering on the edge of a whine. both of you pause at the same time, the humming of the air conditioning outrageously loud in the stillness that follows.

"fuck, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. i just can't take it anymore." moaning, the vulgar sounds of wet slick fill the air, and it's then the realization comes crashing down.

your jaw slackens, utter shock overtaking your now stiff body. "what the fuck?" you breathe, astonished. "h-how long–"

"since you started talking," he strains, and the familiar build of an orgasm from his hand frantically pumping his length drenched in pre is a lewd sight. spreading his legs further from where he lies on the bed, he whines back, arching as the tightness in his balls makes him feverish, his cock impossibly hard. he's become desperate to hear you speak, pleading for you to give him that push off the edge and into the insanity of release. "oh, fuck, keep going, please--"

"oh my god, you're such a perverted freak! i wasn't doing anything sexual, and you're beating your cock to my voice—"

he knows he's depraved, but cumming to the sound of you degrading him over the phone has to be a new low. especially the way his pent-up release feels like heaven crashing over his body in a tidal wave and sweeping him off his feet. he moans, shuddering with a sweet cry when you gasp in that cute voice of yours as you realize he came.

panting, satoru slumps on the bed, his hand and the bedsheets drenched in his seed. his eyes follow the mess he made to his phone, where spurts of sticky white land where your face is on the screen.

"you're sick." he knows you don't actually mean that. you're just in shock, right? turned on? maybe you'll even take off your pants, and he can get a glimpse of that sweet pussy… "i'm breaking up with you."

satoru is violently ripped out of his lust-filled fantasy as he grabs his phone in a flurry, cringing at how his fingers stick and smear over the metal. "no, no, no, no. i'm sorry, pretty baby; i didn't mean to make you mad."

pouting, a face that he knows garners your sympathy, he attempts to coo his words in a sickly sweet, desperate voice he knows you love. "i've just been so pent up without you and your pussy that i couldn't help myself. you were being so good for me, i couldn't hold it in anymore. :("

he holds the camera to his face, praying it captures not only the sad tone but also his frown and sad eyes of apology. "i'll be better next time, sweet girl, i promise."

your eyes move across your face before you stand and pace around your shared room, rubbing a hand over your eyes. "i hate you," you murmur, and his face lightens up with an ear-splitting grin as you grumble about how he could have at least done it with you. all was forgiven as far as he was concerned.

"ugh, you're disgusting. just… go clean up." sighing, you sit back on the bed, side-eyeing him when he doesn't move.

he perks up, grinning as his following retort comes to mind. "only if you talk me through it."

automated beeps from the now-ended call are the only things that reply.

©2023 cupidzgf. do not copy, translate, modify, or repost my content onto other sites without my permission

[probably-writing-x]

All The Firsts (Part 2)

Summary: So, could you write something about the reader being in her first relationship with spider (hbh) and her being worried about how she’s new at this?

Warnings: Mentions of sex / sexual acts, cursing, hints at anxiety / overthinking, Missy being a villain (I’m so sorry it just fits the story okay?)

Word Count: 5.8k

Author’s Note: Thank you for the love on part one!! Part three is already in the works if y’all want it??

You’d spent the whole weekend with Spencer after that. You cooked dinner together on Saturday night and bickered over when the pasta was done cooking. You watched his favourite movie and then made him watch yours. And on Sunday, you went to watch the sunrise over the water and then spent the rest of the day cuddled in bed. Spencer kissed you at every opportunity, like he was reminding you more and more that this was real. You still got nervous at the contact, still weren’t exactly sure if you were doing it right or if it felt as good for him as it did for you. But he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

“I should really go back to mine,” You mumble, laying between his legs with your back pressed against his chest as he played video games.

He was propped up against the headboard, pausing the game when you speak.

“A few more hours won’t hurt,” He leans down to kiss your cheek.

“Yes, it will,” You laugh, “I’ve still not done my homework for tomorrow, and I need to be home at least some point this weekend.”

He grumbles and tightens his grip around you, “Homework can wait.”

You hum, tilting your head to peck his lips quickly, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He groans, kissing you once more before releasing his grip on you.

Spencer gets up and walks you down the stairs, even standing at the door to watch you walk the few steps over to your house. He only closes the door when he sees you go inside.

If you thought about it briefly, this entire weekend felt like a fever dream. How had you gone from Friday to now? On Friday, you’d been preparing for your first date, with a guy you’d known for a week, your first experience of anything like this. And in the past two days, Spencer had shown you so much of what you felt like you’d been missing. Kissing you, holding you, making you feel like you were worthy of every piece of affection. Your heart seemed to backflip at the thought, the idea that this was reality.

“There she is!” It’s your Mum who speaks up as soon as you enter the house, “I’d have started to get worried if you were any further away than next door.”

You laugh, “Yeah, sorry, I thought I should come home at least once before the weekend’s over.”

“Oh don’t be silly, you’re young, you’re supposed to be out all the time,” She chuckles, “This is what we’re meant to be putting up with as parents.”

You’d always been close with your parents, mainly because they never had much to worry about. You got good grades, you were always home on time, you helped out around the house, you were never one to be out late partying or off somewhere they didn’t know. You were too much of a golden girl to be a worry for them. If anything, your Mum was a little relieved to see you doing something at least slightly out of character.

“So, Spencer?” She raises her brows at you, “Little Spec that you used to have sleepovers with, Spec that drives you to school every day. When did this happen?”

“Um,” You clear your throat, scratching at the back of your neck, “I don’t know, it’s new. I actually don’t know wh- I don’t know.”

“Oh I don’t understand you young kids these days,” She shakes her head, “Are you dating are you not dating? I’ll never understand it.”

“I should go and do my work before tomorrow,” You excuse yourself, making your way upstairs to your own room.

The curtains are open and so are Spencer’s across the way. He’s sat back on his bed still playing the same game he’d been playing before you left, fully engrossed in the screen.

Do your work!!

You send the text and set your phone down onto your desk, glancing through the window once more to see him smile down at the words on his screen. He looks up to you through the window then and his lips curl into an even brighter smile. You feel your heart flip once more.

———

The following morning, Spencer is waiting in the car like he always is for you. You hurry down and get into the passenger seat, dropping your bag onto the back seats,

“Good morning, doll,” He smiles when he sees you, leaning over to kiss you quickly, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, ready,” You nod, plugging your phone into the aux.

You’d done this same journey a million times with Spencer. And yet something felt so different about being sat next to him now. He wasn’t just the boy you’d grown up with now, he was your first kiss, your first date, the first time you’d stayed over at a guys house, the first boy you were talking to your Mum about. He was filling in so many firsts.

In that moment, however, you have the realisation that none of those were yet to be firsts for him. He’d had plenty of kisses in his time, had more than enough dates, had a number of girls stay over at his house, his Mum had even met Missy. He’d done all of those things before he’d done them with you. And that was okay. You couldn’t exactly be annoyed at him for experiencing those things before you. What mattered that it was you now. Right? But what if those other girls had been better than you? What if they’d kissed better or been prettier or been more confident or…

“Where’s that head gone?” Spencer speaks over your overthinking, “Because if you’re about to start talking to me about your math homework I’m pulling the car over.”

“No, no, I’m just-“ You half-laugh, looking over to him, “Nothing.”

He smiles, keeping his eyes focused on the road as he moves his hand from the gearstick to instead rest on your thigh, his thumb smoothing over the bare skin below the cut-off of your shorts.

Your skin tingles beneath his touch, seemingly another first for you. But how many girls had sat in this seat? How many girls had he made that same move with? You swallow the lump in your throat and try to ignore it.

———

Spencer parks up in his usual spot and you both get out of the car, him handing you your bag as you do.

“Okay, I’ll see you at the end of the day,” You nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” He laughs, reaching for your hand and interlocking your fingers, “Come on, come say hi to the guys, at least stay with us until first period.”

“I-“ You frown, “I never see you much in school.”

He laughs again, turning around to face you, “Got somewhere better to be, (Y/l/n)?”

“I- no,” You smile, following alongside him as he walks you over to the wall where a group of the boys were sat.

You didn’t recognise any of them, apart from Ant. The only other two you’d known were Dusty and Malakai but both of them had left now. Ant is sat with another girl, Harper, and she smiles when she sees you.

“Morning boys,” Spider says, “You all know (Y/n), right?”

“Yeah how’s it going (Y/n)? You’re never with us in the morning,” Ant points out, smiling so you knew he didn’t mean it rudely.

“Yeah Ant’s brain will probably combust if he’s with more than one girl at once, right buddy?” Spencer hits his leg and takes a seat on the wall opposite them.

This spot used to be an old bike park but too many kids got their wheels slashed so Woodsy gave up on the idea of having one. Now, it was just three walls all perpendicular to each other, with the remains of metal railings in the centre. You hop up onto the spot beside Spencer and he leans one of his arms around the back of you - not necessarily around you, just resting there as if he wanted to reassure you.

“How come you weren’t out on Friday Spider?” One of the guys asks him.

“I…” Spider glances at you and then back to the group, “Something came up.”

Harper looks at you across the way and smiles. She must be able to tell you’re nervous. You’re not sure if you should speak or let the others do the talking. Should you be making it more obvious that something was going on with Spencer? Were they all going to question him on it as soon as you left?

“Well, you should’ve been there.”

“Yeah, man, you missed a good party.”

They all go into explaining something that had happened at the party and you try to pick up on names you might recognise. Someone mentions Missy and you feel your chest tighten, a strange reaction, you think.

“Hey (Y/n), I think we have first period together,” Harper mentions, “Maths right? Do you want to walk over?”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” You nod, reaching for your bag.

You hop down from the wall and watch as Harper turns to kiss Ant before she leaves. Oh god. Should you do the same to Spencer. You turn around and look at him and he smiles.

“I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Um, yeah, okay,” You nod, “See you.”

He didn’t make a move to kiss you. But, then again, neither did you. Maybe you should have done. Will his friends think you were weird if you didn’t?

“Sorry, thought you might just want to get away from that boy talk for a while,” Harper leans in to say to you quietly as you’re both walking away, “You and Spencer are a thing then?”

“Oh, um,” You shrug, “Yeah, I guess so, it’s new so I don’t know.”

“You guys have been friends for like ever though right?” She points out, “He mentions you all the time.”

“He does?”

“Oh yeah,” Harper laughs, “Ant was telling me the other week the boys ask for lifts off Spider all the time and he always refuses. They call you his ‘golden girl’. I’m honestly surprised it took him this long to make a move.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, suppressing a smile that you’d save for when you mentioned this to Spider later, “Yeah, I didn’t think anything would ever happen with us. But I’m glad it has.”

You walk through to class with her and go to sit with your friends on the table near the front. They ask you about your weekend and oddly enough you can’t bring yourself to mention anything about Spencer. What would you say? You knew a few of them silently judged him and that entire group for everything. They were so different to you guys. They were loud and outgoing and disruptive. And you guys got your work in on time and spoke about plans for after school or what the latest book you were reading was. They were… just different. And so you liked the idea of keeping the two things separate for a while. At least whilst you were still figuring out what exactly was going on with you and Spencer. You didn’t want to ask for fear of the answer not being what you desired.

———

By the middle of the day, you’re leaving your class for lunch. Your few friends walk out with you and go to turn down the corridor towards your lockers but, as you step out of the room, you’re stopped by someone else.

“Last out of class, I shouldn’t be surprised,” Spencer comments as his hand stops your wrist in motion, “Ready to go to lunch?”

The girls turn around and look at you with a frown, looking between you and him and then down to where his hand still held you.

“Um, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” You smile to them, turning around to Spencer before you can catch sight of their disapproving faces.

“I don’t think you’ve ever introduced me to your friends,” Spencer points out, “Do they know about me?”

“Everyone knows about you,” You laugh, “You’re not exactly known for being incognito around school. In fact, I’m pretty sure you hit one of them with a cake once when you started that food fight after the elections.”

He grimaces, “Yeah, might have to apologise for that one if I want to get in their good books.”

You like the idea of him wanting to impress your friends, the idea that he’d want them to like him. It makes you feel like there is some sort of permanence to this. Some sort of longevity that stretched beyond one perfect weekend.

“Here, you can put your stuff in my locker,” He mentions, taking your books from your arms, “I won’t let you forget it.”

Spencer closes the locker and then continues his walk beside you, his hand brushing yours every so often until his fingers lace with your own. Every little contact from him seemed like a gentle reminder that you really weren’t dreaming this. This was really happening.

You both wait in line to get your food and he places a hand on your back to let you go ahead of him. You still tingle under the touch. He asks you how your days been and tells you he’s thought of another film you need to watch. You ask him if he listened to the song you’d sent him last night and he said he’d already added it to his playlist.

He points out a table over in the corner and the two of you go over, sitting opposite each other.

“So this is technically our first meal out together,” You point out, pushing the rice around your plate, “You’re practically taking me out for dinner.”

“I always thought it would be more romantic than this,” Spider laughs, his leg brushing yours under the table.

“So you’ve thought about it.”

“Well I mean I-“

“There you are!”

Within moments, you’re interrupted by Spider’s friends clambering around the table. Ant sits down next to you and smiles, throwing down a wrapped sandwich and a bag of chips and a can of soda.

“Don’t mind if we join you, do you?” One of the boys sits beside Spider and nudges his arm.

“Um,” Spencer clears his throat, “Course not.”

He looks over to you but you’re already distracted by the chorus of conversation that starts up beside you.

Was this normal? The new normal? If you wanted to see Spencer did you have to spend all this time with his friends too? They seemed okay. But they were talking about a game you didn’t know, and another one of them brought up a school trip that was happening tomorrow. They all seem to speak over each other and yet all manage to understand. You eat your food, not really adding much to the conversation but smiling and nodding so that you at least looked like you were engaged. You wanted to be back with your friends in that moment - they’d be talking to you about a new film that they wanted to see, or a new album that was coming out and you’d agree and have something to actually input into the conversation. You could actually be part of the chorus. But right now you felt like a bystander.

———

Spencer drives you home, of course, and this time he comes round to your house instead of you parting ways at the car.

“I’m back Mum!” You call out as you step inside, tossing your keys into the bowl near the front door.

“Oh hello darling!” She beams when she sees you, “And Spencer! To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you were making burgers, I’m just here for the burgers,” He grins, “It’s good to see you.”

“Im sure you get taller every time I see you, and you’re only over the way,” She smiles up at him, “Well you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner, as long as you help me open the pickles. I was going to wait for Dad to get home but now you’re here you can try.”

“Of course,” Spencer smiles, disappearing into the kitchen.

“I knew it would happen eventually,” Your Mum turns to you with a smile on her face, one that reminded you of your own, “I knew it!”

You roll your eyes, “Oh stop it Mum. It’s still new, we’re just… seeing how it goes.”

“Got them!” Spencer steps back out into the hallway, “I left the jar on the counter.”

“Oh thank you darling,” Your Mum smiles, “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”

“Should we…?” Spencer looks at you.

“Yeah let’s go,” You go up the stairs and he follows behind you up into your bedroom.

It was a bedroom of magnolia walls, one of which was covered in displayed vinyl covers, a vinyl player on a table in the corner beside your desk. Your bed was against the same wall as the window and Spencer sits down onto the edge of it as you set your bag down and check your appearance in the mirror above your vanity.

“It feels weird to do the whole ‘meeting the parents thing’ when I already know her,” Spencer mentions, flicking through the pages of the book you’d left on your bed, “Less nerve wracking.”

“Is it normally worse than that?” You ask, “Because that still seemed pretty uncomfortable."

"What do you mean? She loves me!"

"I dont know I just-" You shake your head, "I don't know what to say when people ask me about us. Harper asked about it earlier and I just don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"Well, there’s nothing you’re supposed to say,” He shrugs, “It’s up to you.”

“I think it’s up to you too,” You point out, stepping towards him.

When you’re close enough, he reaches his hands out to draw you in between his legs, looking up at you as you stand there, “Just tell them we’re seeing each other. That’s enough to shut them up.”

“Are we? I mean… are we seeing each other?” Your cheeks are heating up again.

Spencer squints at you, “Yeah I think I can see you.”

You hit at his chest, “You know what I mean.”

He hums and moves his hands around to the back of your thighs, guiding you onto his lap, your thighs straddling either side of his, “Yeah, I think we are,” He mumbles close to your lips, planting a kiss there.

You smile against his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck. He holds his hands on your waist, deepening the kiss. You still weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, but you let him take the lead. You just let instinct take over. Spencer moves one hand to your back as if he wants to draw you impossibly closer to him. He smiles against your lips and shifts just enough to lift you up, guiding you down onto the mattress. Your head drops down to the pillow, hair splaying behind you. He’s hovering over you, hand gripping your hip as yours grip his shoulders, him dipping down to kiss you again. There’s contact and friction and the unfamiliar feeling of his weight on top of you. And something in your brain seems to ignite in that moment.

“Spencer,” You whisper, feeling your heartbeat pound against your chest, averting your eyes away from his gaze, “I don’t want to- I don’t-“

He stops in his movements, his hand still on your waist, looking down at you until your eyes meet his, “(Y/n), I didn’t- you know that’s okay, right?”

He shifts his weight until he drops down to the mattress beside you, leaning up onto his elbow so that he doesn’t lose your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything,” He assures you, “I’m not in any rush.”

You look at him for a second and take a deep breath, “But I know you’ve… you know, you’ve done all of that before. Isn’t it weird for you if I don’t want to do any of that yet?”

He shakes his head instantly, “Absolutely not.”

There’s a tightness in your chest and for some reason, the longer he looks at you the more you feel like you’re going to cry under his focus. You can feel your bottom lip threatening to tremble.

“(Y/n) you’ve not done this before. You’re not supposed to know what to do or how to act or what to say - it’s okay to figure all of that out. I just want you to feel like you can tell me when things aren’t what you want, okay?” He holds your hand in his, “And if you ever feel like you can’t tell me, that’s when we’ve got a problem we need to fix.”

You smile and nod at him, not sure of any words that fit the moment, not sure of any words that you could get out without your voice breaking.

“Okay, can I kiss you now?” He smiles at you, leaning in and pausing just inches from your lips.

When you nod, he kisses you softly with a smile on his face. You feel your heart skip the same way it had done after your first kiss.

———

Your Mum was surprisingly relaxed about you and Spencer being together. She didn’t even think twice about saying he should stay the night. Maybe she was just happy to see you happy. Or maybe her old dreams for you were finally becoming a reality and she just wanted to hold onto it. You eat dinner with your parents and then watch a film with them downstairs before Spencer’s eyes start to slowly lose their energy and you tell your parents you should probably go to bed. He used a spare toothbrush and waited for you in the bathroom whilst you got unready, he sat on the toilet and read the ingredients of your skincare - stumbling over the complex spellings. He followed you out and back into your bedroom, closing the door behind him gently.

“Okay, full transparency, I normally sleep naked,” He raises his hands as if he’s surrendering the information.

You laugh, “Well, thanks for telling me.”

“But I can sacrifice that freedom for tonight and at least wear boxers,” He nods, pulling off his t-shirt and hanging it over your desk chair.

He’s toned and his muscles seem even more so defined in the dim light. His shoulders are broad and seem to contort so intensely that it makes the soft features of his face look almost misplaced on him.

“Are you staring at me, (Y/n)?” He grins, stepping towards you.

“Just-“ You swallow the lump in your throat, “Looking.”

“Looking?” He cocks a brow, wrapping his arms around your waist as soon as you’re within reach.

He buries his face into your neck, planting a soft kiss into the crook before tightening his arms and lifting you from the ground. You let out an involuntary squeal and wrap your arms around him as he carries you over to the bed, planting you down on the side closest to the wall before dropping down onto the mattress beside you. His arm is already outstretched, waiting for you to tuck in against his chest. You lay there and feel his heart under your head, swirling patterns with the tip of your finger around the bare skin of his torso.

“So I wanted to ask you something,” You take a breath, “How does this all work now? Like… if we’re… whatever we are… how does it work at school?”

“Do you mean with lunch? I’m sorry they all came over and sat with us, it’s just a force of habit and they probably didn’t think anything of it but-“

“No, it’s okay,” You say softly, looking down at a crease in the sheets on your bed, “I just mean in general - lunch, classes, before school - if we’re… i mean, should i be with you the whole time?”

“Do you not want to be?” He chuckles, “Because if I’m keeping you from-“

You lean up onto your elbow and roll your eyes, “That’s not what I meant!”

He laughs again, brushing your hair back over your shoulder, “There’s no rule book, (Y/n). I want to see you as much as I can but that doesn’t mean you should be worried about having to spend all this time with my friends too.”

“I know but like… Harper’s with you guys,” You shrug, your index finger drawing circles on his chest, “Would they think it’s weird if I’m not with you?”

He leans up just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, dropping back down onto the pillow before he says, “They can think whatever they want.”

He tightens his arm around you and pulls you back into him, wrapping both of his arms around your body in a tight embrace.

“We should get some sleep,” You mumble into him, arm draped over his torso.

It was strange to you how quickly you settled into contact with Spencer. You’d never done anything like this. And yet when he held you, when he touched you, it felt like it was just natural. It wasn’t as scary as you thought it would all be. Sure, some parts of it still were. But you weren’t as scared as before.

———

The following morning, Spencer leaves early to go and pack a bag. There was a school trip this week - in these cabins in the woods, surrounding a vast lake. All of your year group were going and more often than not it was an opportunity to hide drink and add to the complex web of gossip that already existed. You were almost packed anyway, putting the last couple of bits in, a book for when you got bored, a notebook and a few pens, an extra outfit just in case.

He texts you to make sure he’s not forgetting anything and then you go downstairs to meet him. He drives with his hand on your leg, singing along to the throwback playlist you’d queued. He pulls into his parking space and the bus is already waiting as students file on. His friends are still hanging around outside, yelling at him to come over when they see him get out of the car.

“I think I’m going to meet my friends on the bus,” You mention as you’re walking over, feeling a little nervousness in your voice, “Is that okay?”

Spencer looks at you and smiles, “Of course it is.”

He glances at his friends momentarily and then leans in to kiss you softly - it was quick but he didn’t rush, squeezing your hand before he heads over towards the boys. One of them swings his arm over Spencer’s shoulders, saying something incoherent before glancing over at you and grinning. You make your way onto the bus and go to sit in the few seats your friends were already occupying. They ask you if the Spencer White had seriously just kissed you outside and then complain at you for not telling them sooner. They weren’t as judgy as you’d expected. More surprised. They want to know how it happened, when it happened, was he a good kisser?

Spencer and his friends all pile into the bus and stumble over each other to get to their seats. They’re loud and take up space and your friends seem to exchange a glance between each other that they’re almost hiding from you. Like they want to complain but figure you’re not the one to complain to.

Spencer sits in the seat behind you and your friend, Ant sitting in one of the seats opposite as the other boys fill in the space. Missy and Sasha walk on, taking the row behind Spencer. You realise this is the first time you’d properly seen her since you and Spencer had got together. You hadn’t thought about it enough, clearly. But when you see her sit down you feel your stomach turn a little. She’d done all of this before. With Spider. Had he done all of the same things with her? Had he taken her to the same spot to swim? Had he fallen asleep watching a film with her? Had he kissed her the same way? She might’ve been better than you were, too. She was more experienced. She knew more of what to do, probably more confident in doing it too.

“So, our boy Spider’s in for a fun trip,” Ant wiggles his brows at his friend, “Should we be expecting a pregnancy by the end of the week?”

“Fuck off Ant,” Spencer returns quickly, and it’s as if you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.

“Come on, I’d be a good uncle!” Ant defends.

You glance over your shoulder and see Spencer laughing at him, a bright smile on his face. He turns over to you and rolls his eyes, his smile not faltering. You feel the heat in your cheeks again.

“Spider with a kid?” Missy laughs outwardly, “He’d give up after a few months, might not even make it to the birth.”

“Yeah I think Spider could be used as an example of why contraception is a good thing,” Sasha adds.

You turn around a little, like you want to tune into the conversation. They thought so little of him.

“I wouldn’t speak so soon, our boy’s married off now,” Ant raises his hands and he looks at you with a smile like he is reminding you he means well.

Harper hits at his arm as she sits down as if hoping it would take back what he just said. She looks at you and shakes her head.

“Married off? To who?” Missy persists.

“(Y/n).”

One of the boys says it but you don’t know which one. You feel your stomach churn again and that strange sort of numbness in your body where you wish you could just disappear into the seat beneath you. You didn’t like being the centre of attention like this. And it seemed to be a new common occurrence now that you were with Spencer.

“(Y/n)?” Missy doesn’t laugh but she might as well do, like it’s the most surprising news she’s heard, “You must be joking.”

Nobody says anything at first. And you feel the urge to get up and pretend this had nothing to do with you. You could just go back to being invisible, to existing away from the conversations of these people. To no longer be a topic of their discussion.

“Why would that be a joke?”

Even when you say the words you’re convinced they haven’t come from you. Surely not. You wouldn’t say anything. You would just sit there and not say anything. But you had done. And now even more eyes seemed to be on you.

You turn around and Missy is looking at you directly. Her arms are folded, her head cocked to the side, her eyebrows raised just slightly as if she’s analysing you.

“You’re smart, right?” She shrugs, “Shouldn’t take you long to figure it out.”

You don’t say anything more, turning back to the front of the bus. Your friends look at you but dont say anything and you feel Spencer move behind you as if he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t. He sinks back into this seat and the boys carry on a conversation like nothing has happened.

———

You’re in assigned rooms for the trip. And it’s just your luck, isn’t it? You, Harper, Amerie and Missy.

“Well, this looks cosy,” Amerie says as the four of you step into the room.

It’s a typical cabin bedroom, walls of wooden slats and a roof just the same. A wooden floor decorated with an aged carpet rug that was fraying at either end. There’s a window on the far side, a single pane that looks like it could be made of plastic. It looks out over to the water, seemingly a redeemable feature of the setting. There are two bunk beds, one either side of the room, either side of the window. The mattresses are thin, the pillows even thinner, blankets folded in a square on the ends of the bed beside a rolled up towel.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Missy grumbles, dropping her bag down onto one of the bed, “This can’t get any worse.”

“Yeah, it can’t,” You mumble, sitting down on the opposite mattress.

Missy looks over at you as she sits down, taking a deep breath.

“Missy, don’t start something,” Harper says quickly, glancing at you with a sympathetic furrow between her brows.

“I just-“ Missy raises her hands as if gesturing that she came in peace, “I want to know what Spider’s told you. I mean, I dated that guy. I know what he’s like. What’s changed that he’s suddenly got to you?”

“Got to me?” You frown, “What do you mean?”

“He spoke about you a lot and when i asked him about it he said you two were just friends or whatever,” She shrugs, “Like, he told you he could never imagine seeing you like that.”

“Missy,” Harper’s voice is more of a warning tone now, like she can see exactly where this is going and what’s to end up ahead of it.

“Im just saying, he used to tell me he felt sorry for you - so is that what this is? This is just him feeling really, really sorry for you?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you can’t figure out the right way to respond. What could you say? What did she want you to say?

Before you can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door. Amerie goes over to open it, mumbling something about it being a relief that something would break the tension.

“Fucking terrible timing Spider,” She winces, stepping aside at the doorway as if opening up the room.

You look over and he’s stood there. His hair is flopping on either side of his forehead, the smile on his face faltering at the sight. You and Missy sat opposite each other, your mouth empty of any words and your eyes brimming just enough with tears that hadn’t fallen. That lump still in your throat making it feel like it was impossible to breathe.

“(Y/n)?” He frowns, glancing between the girls as if he’s hoping at least one of them will give him an answer, “What’s happened?”

[sturniqlo]

First Date- M.S

summary: the one where matt grows the courage to ask his coworker out on a date and he plans the perfect first date

cw: FLUFF, mild cursing

masterlist

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"Just do it!" Chris pushed his brother Matt towards the aisle that Y/n was stocking. "Chris! No, stop pushing me!" He tried to stop with his feet but failed. "If you don't do it now, you'll never end up doing it." Chris stopped in the aisle entrance and there she was, airpods in her ear stocking boxed pasta. "She's busy, I'll do it another time." He swats his arm. Trying to walk away. "Oh, hey guys!" Matt freezes as he hears Y/n's voice. "Hey, Y/n." Chris grabs Matt's arm and drags him towards her.

She takes her airpods out and places them back in their case. "You guys on break?" She asks, opening up another box. "No, unfortunately. But, anyway, Matt here," Chris pats Matt's chest. "Has something to tell you-" Everyone's walkie goes off and Chris' name is said. "Well, duty calls. I'll leave you two to it." He walks away with a smile on his face.

Ever since Y/n walked through the doors of the supermarket on her training day one year ago, he's always had his eyes on her. He always turned nervous whenever she talked to him or whenever either of his brothers called her over to just talk. Y/n on the other hand tried her best to make it known that she liked him. Unfortunately, she was in a relationship the first three months she started working she never really noticed Matt in a 'I like you' type of way.

So, when she started to grow feeling for him she started to talk to him more and she flirted with him. However, he never showed anything back to her and she believed he didn't feel the same way so she stopped flirting and just thought of him as a friend but that crush never went away and always stood at the back of her mind anytime she interacted with him. "You need something?" She softly asked, grabbing a few pasta boxes in her hand.

"Yeah- I- uh. Are you busy Saturday?" She stops stocking and goes back to where Matt is standing. "Saturday? No, I don't have any plans." She hides her smile. "Do you- would you like to go on a date with me?" He finally meets her eyes, he can feel his face turn red immediately. "Sure! I'll text you my address?" She smiles, blushing. "Sound great, I'll see you around?" He says. "Yeah, see you." Her smiles hasn't gone away.

As she sees that he's fully gone, she squeals. Matt returns back to his position, and Chris walks up to him. "Did you do it? He drags the mopping bucket with him. "Yes, we're going out Saturday."

"It's about fucking time!"

Since they were doing the closing shift, they locked up and headed to their respective cars. Chris and their other coworker, Randy, were walking in front of Y/n and Matt who were in a comfortable silence. "This is me." Y/n stopped at her car. "I'll see you Saturday?" Matt worked tomorrow but Y/n was off fortunately, they worked together on Sunday. "Saturday," She nodded. "Text me when you get home?" Matt said. "Yeah, I'll also text you my address for Saturday." She unlocked her car and waved at him.

The whole drive home, Y/n kept thinking about Matt and her upcoming date with him. Where were they going to go? What were they going to do? Will they go on more dates? She was excited to tell her mom about the news because she's always talked about Matt to her. Since her mom was a night owl, Y/n knew she was going to be up. "I'm home!" She said as she walked through the door and was hit with the aroma of her mom's chocolate chip cookies.

"In the kitchen!" She heard her mom. "Why're you making cookies so late? It's almost twelve." Y/n saw that she was making another batch. "Well, your lovely brother, who is enjoying his sleep upstairs, decided to tell me a day before that he told his baseball team that I would be bringing cookies to tomorrow cook out. So here I am making them." Y/n laughed. Typical him.

"You'll never guess what happened today!" She smiled just thinking about it. "What?" Her mom said, adding chocolate chips to her batter. "Remember Matt?" She questioned. "Your coworker you won't stop talking about? Yeah, I remember him." She teased. "Mom! Anyways, he asked me out on a date!" She squealed. "Really? Well that's great honey! Do you know what you'll be doing?" Y/n shook her head.

After her conversation with her mom, she headed upstairs to get ready for bed and remembered she had to text Matt.

y/n

hi! sorry for the late text, but i'm home safe and sound!

my address is 3729 Oak St

matt

sound good! i'll pick you up at 6:30, see you on saturday, dress casual!!

Saturday came quicker than usual, and Matt will be picking her up in an hour. Y/n spent about ten minutes picking a casual outfit. Her room looked like a tornado had passed by. There was shirts everywhere, pants, and shoes. Eventually she came up with something and threw it on. Since it was a bit chilly she threw on a small cardigan. She did some light makeup consisting of concealer, mascara, blush and a lip gloss. The hour soon became ten minutes.

On the way to pick up Y/n, Matt debated whether or not to buy her flowers. Would it be cheesy? He decided on getting her flowers. Matt stopped by the store and got her a small bouquet of tulips. He remembered that she had a small tattoo of a tulip on the side of her wrist. When he was outside her house. He got out of his car and walked up to her front porch to ring the doorbell. He looked around as he waited for the door to be opened and saw that there was a lot of planted flowers in their front garden.

He heard the front door unlock and slowly open. He expected to be met with Y/n, instead, he was met with a boy around ten year old. "My mom didn't order flowers, she ordered pizza." The boy said looking confused, scratching his head. Was he at the wrong house? "Oh- I- I'm not the pizza dude. I'm here for Y/n." He quickly said. "You're here for her? Like to kidnap her?" Matt giggled. "No, I came to pick her up for a date." The boy raised his eyebrows. "Oh- Y/n! There's a boy at the door!" He yelled. Seconds later, he heard Y/n coming down the stairs. "Yo, what did Mom and Dad tell you about opening the door?" Y/n's brother had a habit of opening the door for strangers, once he almost got kidnapped for it and the other, their parents for brainwashed into buying expensive cooking supplies.

"I thought it was the pizza." He said before walking away to the kitchen. "Hi, Matt. I'm sorry about him." She giggled. "It's no problem, here, these are for you." He handed her the flowers. "Thank you!" She gasped. "Here, come on in, I'll put these in water." She opened the door all the way so he could enter. He stepped foot into the house and looked around. To the left, he saw the living room with the tv on playing toy story. Passing the stairs, down the hallway the walls were filled with family pictures and pictures of Y/n and her brother.

Entering the kitchen, Y/n's brother was sitting on top of the counter eating cookies. "Would you a like a cookie?" Her brother said to Matt. "Sure." He said. He handed the container to Matt and he grabbed a cookie. Y/n smiled at the interaction. "These are good!" Matt said, mouth full of cookie. "My mom made them the day before!" They had a bit of cookies leftover from the cookout. Y/n wandered around the kitchen looking for a vase to put the flowers in.

"Okay, we can go now!" She dried her hands on the rag. "Cool, maybe we can finish our talk another day, hopefully?" Matt put his fist out so her brother can fist bump him. "Yeah! I'll show you my pokémon go collection next time. I can't use my ipad past six." He hopped off the counter and put the cookies back in the pantry. "Tell mom I left, okay? I think she's still showering."

In Matt's car, the music was lowly playing in the background while the two chatted. "So, where are we going?" Y/n asked, looking over at Matt. "Do you like Italian food?" He looks over at her. "Love." She nods. As Matt drives, they spark up a conversation.

Fifteen minutes later, Matt is pulling into a parking spot farthest away from the restaurant as the parking lot is packed. "Didn't think it was going to be so packed." He turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt. "I've never been here before." She says, doing the same before reaching for the door handle. "Wait!" He says. Matt opens his door, Y/n confused looks at his through the windows. She sees him get to her door and he opens it for her. "Oh, thank you, Matt." She giggles. He closes the car door and he walks next to her.

The restaurant is a few hundred feet away, Y/n grows the confidence to reach for his hand. Matt, caught off guard, looks down at their intertwined hands and smiles. "Have you been here before?" She looks up at him. "Once or twice. I came with Nick and Chris." He nods. As they get to the front door, he lets go of her hand so he can open the door and let her go in first. "Thank you!"

Getting inside, there's a couple of people in front of them. Matt stands next to Y/n and throws his arm over her shoulders and she leans into him. After a couple of minutes of waiting, they get seated at a booth. They settle in before a waiter comes to take their drink order and goes to get them. Placing their order in they start talking learning more about each other. "Is it just you and your brother or do you have more siblings?" He asks. "I have an older sister but, her and my parents aren't on good terms like at all." She says. "Her doing." She adds. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." "You have an older brother, right? I think Nick has mentioned him a couple of times." Matt nods.

During the dinner, they shared food, and talked more. By the end of the dinner they learned probably everything about each other. Walking out hand in hand, they make their way back to the car. "How good are you at bowling?" He turns the car on. "I'm the best, actually." They laugh. "I'll be the judge of that." As they get back on the road, Matt reaches over and grabs Y/n's hand and he rests their hands on the center console.

"When did you realize you liked me?" She asks him as they're stopped at a red light. "When I saw Nick training you on your first day. You?" He asked back. "Well, I always thought you were really nice when I first started. But, after I was available and started talking to you more I started to feel something for you." She plays with the rings on his fingers.

Once they get to the bowling alley, Matt pays for them after Y/n tried to pay. "I could've payed for it, Matt. You covered dinner." She said as they walked towards a bench to put the shoes on. Matt had payed for dinner and it was pretty expensive, and she felt pretty bad. "Absolutely not, I asked you out on this date." He reassures her. "Can I at least pay for the arcade passes?" She asks, and he shakes his head. "Nope!" He says popping the p and he gets up to wait for her. They choose their alley and set their names before going to choose a ball.

"I like this green one." Y/n chooses her ball. "I'll get this one." He picks up a blue with white detailing. Going back to their alley, they start the game. "You're up. Let's see if you're as good as you claim to be." Matt giggles. She grabs her ball, and swings her arm back before letting go of the ball. Matt comes up behind her and they both watch as the ball knocks down all of the pins. Matt is stunned and Y/n turns back to him with a smile. "Your turn."

Matt grabs his ball and swings his arm back and forth letting go of the ball. Y/n does the same as him and stand next to him. The ball ends up knocking down only four of the ten pins. "That was a warm up."

By the end of the game, Y/n ended up winning by fifty points more than Matt. "You were saying?" She says as they look at the scores. "Okay, you're good a this. But, we're never bowling again. You're too good." Y/n gets excited at the fact that Matt possibly sees something with her. She only laughs. "Let's take our shoes back and go to the arcade." Matt grabs both his and hers shoes and walks to the counter.

They enter the arcade, the many bright colors lighting up the room. Hand in hand, they walk towards the kiosk to get the cards. "Matt, let me pay." She says as he pick two cards worth fifty dollars. "No, let me get this for you." He says, tapping his phone to pay. "You bought me dinner and paid for the bowling now this. I haven't paid for nothing." She whines. Matt grabs the two game cards and hands her one before cupping her face. "Look, there's a photo booth over in the corner you can pay for that, okay?" He places a kiss to her forehead and she feels her face heat up. "Okay." She smiles.

"What game would you like to do first?" Matt asks. "Let's do," She looks around. "That one." She points to the two Big Bass Wheel. They both tap their cards. "Let's see who can get the most points." Matt says. At the same time, they lift the levels and push it down. Matt watches his wheel and gasps when he sees the arrow is about to stop at one thousand points. "Holy shit- fuck! That's rigged." The arrow moves and stops at four points.

"Matt! There's children around!" She laughs. "Oops!" They looks at Y/n's and sees that she got fifteen points. "You can choose the next one." She tells Matt. He grabs her hand and leads them to Ice Ball. "Oh, I love this one." She says. They tap their cards and wait for the balls to be released. Similar to the blowing movements, they throw the ball under hand and see as the balls enter a hole. At the end of the game they saw their points and Matt got more than Y/n.

After many games, they end up at the photo booth. As promised, Matt lets her pay. "Okay, ready?" She says as she fixes her hair. Matt throws his hand over Y/n. "Yeah." For the first one, they just smile. "Come here." Matt brings Y/n closer and she rests her head against him. The camera shutters and it's time for the third one. Y/n brings her hand up and holds Matt's chin and she closes her eyes. For the last one, Y/n kisses Matt's cheek and he blushes.

Matt turns his head and they look into each other eyes as they start to lean closer. Suddenly the curtain is yanked open and they lean away from each other. "Oh- sorry!" A little girl says. "You're fine." Y/n clears her throat as she gets out, Matt follows. She grabs the two strips and hands one to Matt. "Look, we both get one." She says, Matt grabs the strip from her and smiles at the pictures. He grabs his wallet from his pocket and carefully places it in there. "Anything else you want to do?" He asks. They've both decided to keep their tickets and save them for another time so they can get more. "Let's do the claw machine. I want to get you something I saw earlier." She grabs his hand and drags him to the claw machine full of stuffed animals.

"What are you aiming to get?" He asks. "That pug right there." She points. On the first try she gets it. "No way you got it first try." Matt is stunned. "I'm pretty good at these too." She crouches down to get the stuffed dog. "Here you go." She hands it to him. "Thank you. What should we name him?" He asks. "Umm, Mr.... Wrinkleton?" She giggles. "Mr. Wrinkleton it is."

Matt drives them back to her house and they talk the whole way there. "Let me walk you to your door." He turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, rushing to open her door. "Thank you for everything, I had so much fun tonight." She says, looking up at him as they stand on her porch. "I had a lot of fun too. Can I take you out again next friday?" She nods. "Of course." They stare at each other a bit before Matt grabs her jaw and starts to lean in. Y/n leans in more and places her lips on his.

His lips feel soft on hers, fitting perfectly. She moves her arms to wrap around his neck and his hands move down to hold her waist. Many seconds later, Y/n pulls away breathlessly, leaning her forehead against his before leaning back to look at him. "I'll see you tomorrow at work?" She smiles. "Definitely." He replies before placing his lips back on hers for one more kiss.

"Goodnight, Y/n."

[starkeygirlposts]

Goosebumps in my Sleeve I

Summary: You've been dating Rafe Cameron for 3 years, and one day Ward and your mom tell you they're getting married. *In this story, Rafe kills Peterkin after accidentally shooting Sarah, and your mom is Rose. Pairings: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader, toxic!rafe x reader Trigger warnings: forced pregnancy, stepcest, underage, drugs, pregnancy, noncon, swearing, mentions of abortion, p in v sex, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, domestic violence, angst 18+ mdni water dividers by @plum98 heart dividers by @bunnysrph

SERIES MASTERLIST

You'd had a mundane life until your dads affair came to light when you were sixteen years old. He'd met a women on a business trip flight, explaining it as a "connection he didn't have with Rose”. He'd explained his infidelities away by saying your mom paid him little attention, embarrassed him in front of their friends, belittled him, and said the love between them ceased to exist solely because of your mom.

It wasn't like you knew the ins and outs of your parents' love life as a teenager, but what you saw - or what they chose to show you, didn't seem like what your dad made it out to be. But there are always 3 sides to every story, so who were you to judge?

Especially when you'd ignored all the warnings you'd been given to stay clear from Rafe Cameron, much less date him. He was a senior and you were a freshman and people already had enough to say about that.

You'd began attending parties at his house during your freshman year of high school, and the playful flirtation between the two of you continued for a year before he finally made a move that the two of you couldn't come back from.

He was on the lookout for you every Friday or Saturday night, always a prepared favorite drink of yours ready in a red solo cup. He'd follow you around his house if not with his feet, with his eyes until one day his fingertips grazed your arm and draped down to your fingers and tangled them together, showing to not only you, but everyone else around you that it was game over.

He'd taken you up to his room that same night and he ground his hips so deeply into yours that you were sure you lost your virginity that night. After telling your friends, who'd only laughed at your naivety, you realized you very much did not, and then you truly realized when the next Saturday night, he'd taken you to his room and peeled the clothing from both of your bodies and you'd connected as one. The way his fingers caressed your face, your hair, your body, it was the biggest question in your mind why anyone would think Rafe Cameron was any bit the bad boy they had all made him out to be.

Talking about how quick to temper he was, how hot headed, how impulsive, how vulgar.

You had never witnessed any of that in your three years together. Whether he'd kept you at arms length or whether all it took was you coming into his life to change him, you weren't sure.

But today, The Rafe Cameron who became your boyfriend when you were at the end of being sixteen years old was not the Rafe Cameron who people referred to your step-brother at nearly nineteen.

The complete opposite, really.

Rafe had always gone out of his way to be the sweetest, most thoughtful boyfriend you could have hoped for. Stealing kisses in the hallways before the bell would ring, then waiting for you in the parking lot with flowers or coffee or chocolate or a picked dandelion once he’d graduated and you hadn’t yet.

Bringing you dinner every Sunday night with your favorite pint of ice cream, and always keeping your bedside table stocked with your favorite genre books and your favorite sour candies.

Keeping his arm draped protectively over you at parties, tender kisses to your forehead when things got too rowdy, whisking you away for alone time once the crowd started to clear.

Caressing your body affectionately during sex, squeezing your hips just enough to leave gentle love marks, keeping you in his arms after making you climax more than once always, asking you if you were okay after every initial thrust, and after being too rough when he was extra needy.

Kissing you like he'd never see you again, holding your jaw in his palm and telling you how much he loved his beautiful girl.

There was no end in sight for the two of you, and after spending so much time together, your mom had asked to meet his dad. You didn't think any more of it than her wanting to know the man whose home you were spending most of your time in. Your mom had become extra clingy after the divorce, and you tried to do what you could. Asking her if she wanted to watch her favorite show together on Tuesday nights, bringing home her favorite Chinese food on your way back from Rafe's on earlier nights. Offering to have a girls day when you had off from your job. You knew the affair nearly killed your mom, but you did not expect her to begin to lean on none other than your boyfriends dad.

Ward was the perfect fill-in for your mom for a while. She was just having a good time, she'd told you. "He occupies my mind, does that make me such a bad mom?” And it was like she was accusing you being upset with your her being however which way involved with your boyfriends dad was so out-of-this-world believable. Truth was, yes it made her a bad mom. Not just because it put you and Rafe in an uncomfortable position, but because you were still struggling yourself after having your family as you knew it blown apart.

But she wasn't just "having a good time." Or rather, maybe she was having too good a time. Because on a Thursday evening at the Cameron's dinner table with Ward, Rose, Rafe, Sarah and Weezie, Ward held your her hand and announced that they were getting married.

You think your heart stopped at his words, and you threw your gaze to your side to find Rafe before doing or saying anything to anyone else. His eyes flicked to yours, and above your head, connecting with his father's in an expression you could only imagine was pure hatred. Because Rafe could never live up to his father in any sense, and now he was taking away the one thing that kept his feet planted to the ground. The girl who’d healed him. Of course he was.

That day, your world fell apart, and Rafe started to become someone you couldn't recognize. Rafe's hand had slipped from your thigh, gone the tender loving warm fingertips, drawing lazy hearts on your skin.

Your whole body jolted when Rafe's chair scraped like nails against the tile floor of the dining room as he darted outside to his truck, not giving you a second thought and leaving you to pick up the pieces. How badly you had wanted to chase after him. But when your eyes connected with Ward's, the decision was already made for you.

You didn't even need to ask.

"Unless you want to live with your father in California, you and Rafe will stop whatever it is you two have going on." Ward had told you.

The words cut through you like a knife, anger bubbling up in your gut with the most intense nausea, "Whatever we have going on? We've been dating for three years!" You practically shout.

"Y/N!" Rose shrieks, "Have some respect!" And you can see the tears shining in her eyes, a mirror of your own. Wards hand squeezes your hers tighter, patting and he whispers to her that "it's okay, Rose, it's going to take a moment to process."

You looked to Rose as if she'd help you - feel some semblance of remorse for you, an ounce of regret. Tears were streaming down your face now, your fingers gripped to your napkin on your lap like you were strangling it.

You'd met Rafe first.

Three years ago.

You were the only reason your mother even met Ward. But why should you be so surprised that what she wanted was more important than your happiness?

From that day on, Rafe started slowly slipping from you. You'd told him what Ward had told you, expecting him to scoff and tell you how he only thought he would stay away from you. But that was exactly what Rafe began to do. Once you received the news, you were moving into Tannyhill, your bedroom just across the hall from Rafe's. A bitter tease dangling in front of you. The love of your life, your best friend, your saving grace, so close but so far, sworn away from you. It had to be intentional.

Rafe started to become a hollow shell of the boy you loved so deeply and so painfully. Loving him so hard physically caused your heart to ache, watching him from a distance slip so far away from you, and out of love with you that it felt like your body was slowly shutting down. Like your brain was turning off and the rest of your organs were being deprived of the oxygen it needed to keep functioning. Like you were only just drifting through life, each morning you woke up was like living a nightmare. Your hands ached to touch his body, for him to touch your body. Your core clenched at night when you laid in bed by yourself, hovering over his contact in your phone, so tempted to press the call button. But your fear of rejection kept you from pressing it every time, instead settling on the feel of your own fingers slipping into your underwear.

You watched as he'd drink himself to sleep every weekend, seated on the living room sofa most of the night with Topper and Kelce, using his amex black card to line the cocaine before rolling up a hundred dollar bill and snorting into his left nostril, jolting his head back and pinching his nostrils as his eyes screwed closed, before opening back up and meeting yours. You were always there, always watching, always waiting, always hoping.

You'd hold his stare until your feet walked you up to him with your hand on your hip, brushing your fingers over the tops of several of his empty beer bottles before bending down to level yourself with him. And you’d ask him to stop.

“Please stop this, Rafe.” You’d quietly plead, ignoring the loud music around you and the stares from his friends at your side. But he’d chuckle darkly and scoff you off. You had grown to hate the mocking sound of his dismissals.

“You want me to stop? What, to make you feel better? What do you do that makes me feel better?" You'd touch his cheek and guide his head down to make his eyes meet yours, and you'd stare into them - hoping for a glimmer of your boyfriend to snap back and remember.

He'd shrug away from you, his shoulder harshly snapping back and his hand brushing yours off to leave you watch his bangs fall over his eyes as he'd resume the antics that were slowly killing not only himself, but you too. But this brutal coldness didn't stop him from sneaking into your room past midnight to have sex with you. Not that you wish he'd stop, because you so badly craved his touch, eager for it any way he'd offer it. Mean, rough, kind, tender; you'd take any of him just to feel connected. It started only a few weeks after the fateful night at the dinner table. Those weeks felt like years.

He'd almost always wait by your closed door for you to sit up in your bed, clicking your bedside light on, his invitation that it was okay to come to you. But some nights, he'd be so impatient to touch you, the alcohol and drugs adding to his hunger to be close to you that you’d be woken by his weight ontop of you, using his sweaty palms to peel the comforter from your body and pull your legs apart.

Being intimate with Rafe, having him inside you brought you to tears more times than you could count. Sometimes, he would acknowledge it and coo in your ear that it was okay and he had you, but every time you told him you loved him in desperation, you were met with silence in return.

You had almost gotten caught a handful of times, whether it be Sarah or Rose, knocking because they were sure they’d heard something, asking if you were okay, Rafe fumbling over himself and nearly knocking over everything in his way to shuffle himself off of you.

You had put off the conversation with Rafe about why the two of you needed to continue on like this, but you knew Rafe would never willingly disobey his father, and when you told him that Ward had threatened to ship you off to California, Rafe told you there was no way that was happening. But this was before the drugs consumed all of his extra time, before he’d started picking fights with anyone who would dare to fight back, before he’d become a ticking time bomb. Now, you weren’t sure he’d care if you fell off the planet. Gone were the times he’d tell you how much he loved you, how beautiful you were, how he didn’t care about what his dad said, that you were his girl, and he’d fight for you.

That did happen after that night at the dinner table. When Rafe finally arrived back at Tannyhill that night, he found you in the library with Ward, discussing things and when he heard the same words that Ward had told you, he didn’t dare to speak up. But when you were alone, he told you not to worry about it, that you’d be okay and it wouldn’t change anything. That you just had to be careful and wait until he could get you place together and not need his dad financially. But that didn’t exactly happen the way you two had planned. With the hunt for the cross at the forefront of absolutely everything, everyone was on edge, constantly battling with one another, making decisions that you couldn’t come back from.

It came to a head when Rafe had accidentally shot Sarah, and he slithered through the front door of the estate covered in blood and mud and you peeked downstairs, rushing to his side to search for where the blood was coming from, worry seeping out of your pores as you continuously called his name until he grabbed your arms too tight for comfort and told you to stop. You rubbed your arms with wide eyes as he shoved you off to the side, before climbing the steps to his bathroom to clean up. Your eyes followed him all the way up, tears springing forward, before the noise behind you bringing you back and meeting eyes with your step father who would fill you in on it all. He’d told you how Rafe was not himself, how he was explosive and you needed to stay away from him. How he’d shot his sister, and that he didn’t care that he did. Your feet fumbled backwards and your head absentmindedly shook “no”, as the tears spilled over, splashing onto your chest as you broke down in Ward’s arms.

It was then that you realized the boy you loved was gone, and not even his father could bring him back.

You’d seen the relationship between Rafe and Ward deteriorate, boiling over after Peterkin was killed. It was something you knew but couldn’t bring yourself to think about. There was only one reason Ward didn’t trust Rafe to do things on his own after she was killed. Only one real reason things were never the same after that day. You knew Rafe had access to guns and you knew Peterkin stood to arrest his father. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. But would you ever ask about it? Never. Because that wasn’t the Rafe you loved. He couldn’t have done that. So he simply didn’t, and that’s what you told yourself.

You remember back to that night in particular, 2 months ago, after he’d cleaned himself up and Ward asked you to bring his dinner up to his room. In hindsight, was Ward taunting you? But any reason was better than none to be able to see him and talk to him. Bracing yourself at the top of the stairs before cautiously hammering your fist onto his bedroom door, not even getting the second rap in before it swung open, the wind blowing back your hair and his face only inches from yours, his pupils were blown black and his hands were on your arms dragging you into the room with him. “Put it down”, he’d told you tensely and you placed the tray with his dinner onto the ottoman in the corner of the room, before his hand turned your body back around to him, crashing his lips to yours aggressively while traveling his hands down to grab your hips, squeezing feverishly.

You groaned in discomfort, his fingers bruising your skin. “Rafe, you’re hurting me.” You’d tried to say, pulling your body backward, his hands coming up to hold your lower back to drag you back.

“Shut up.” He spun you both around before moving his hands to your shoulders to shove you down onto his bed with a bounce, running his hands up your calves and thighs, dragging your dress with them, all the way up until your breasts were exposed and his hands roughly squeezed them, earning a mumbled cry of pain.

You forced yourself up onto your elbows, legs scrambling to find footing on the mattress to kick away from him, screeching “Rafe, stop!” Your hands moving to grip his wrists as you tried to pry them off of you before his hand came up and slapped you across your face.

Your head snapped to the side, shock and mortified, your mouth hung open and tears sprung to your eyes as you brought your hand up to soothe the ache on your cheek. Without thinking or being fully aware of what you’re about to do, your head snaps back to him, betrayed and your hand flies up to hit him back. His hands catch both of your wrists and force them up by the sides of your head, before bringing his face menacingly down to yours.

His breath is hot against your face, your nostrils flared in anger and hurt, watching him with disgust at hitting you. Your chest juts out to deny him and he presses harder down onto you, a sickening sneer on his face as he says,

“I fucking want you, can’t you see that? I need you right now, y/n."

You can’t believe what you’re hearing after months of trying to get him to see you, to talk to him, to bring him back. Your voice drips with distain as you teeth through your teeth,

“Fuck you, Rafe! Fuck you! I’ve been here this entire time! Where the fuck were you?!” You’re yelling louder than you mean to, his chest rising hard against your own that’s exposed to him, wild eyes boring into yours, rageful tears brimming his eyes, flicking to your lips and back to your eyes, sucking in a breath before crushing his lips to yours and letting go of your wrists and using one hand to drag down to your panties and pull the gusset to the side and shove two fingers inside you.

“Fuck! Jesus Christ, Rafe!” Your head rises off the mattress to meet him now that he’s hanging above you, before wrapping your hands around his neck and dragging him back down to you and panting into his mouth. Breath hot, you tell him you need him too.

His fingers move in and out of you, curling to touch the spongey spot inside of you over and over, your voice mewling “please’s” and “oh my god, yes” until you feel his fingers leave you, hands shuffling with his pants, and your eyes snap open to look up at him, feet coming up to hook into the sides of his pants, helping him drag them down his legs. You’re watching him as he looks down to focus on getting his bottoms off, both of your hands coming to rest on his cheeks to drag his head up to look back at you.

His mouth opens to suck in a breath, finally free of his boxers and pants, meeting your eyes. “Please get inside me” You beg, your voice a strained sigh of relief mixed with desperation and you relent as he palms his cock, sweeping it through your folds before he slips inside in one deep thrust. Stilling inside you, your entire body rises off the bed, chest meeting with his, nipples hard against his torso as he hovers above you on his elbows as he bottoms out the deepest, most beautiful guttural moan slips from his lips. Surely the entire house can hear you, but after what’s gone on tonight that you have no idea about, you’re not sure anyone actually cares.

His breath is hot against your face, lips hovering over yours as he watches you with possessiveness, the way your brows furrow as his cock stretches you, his hips pulling back only to push back twice as slowly, the glide of his cock in your slick heat pulling the deepest moan from your throat, and you moan the prettiest “oh” the thinks he’s ever heard. Your hands find purchase on his biceps that are hooked under your knees, his palms by your head, thighs spread back nearly to your chest. You break your eyes away from his to drag them down to look down where he’s inside you to watch him drag himself out achingly slow before he tells you to “look at me” and you do, your eyes meeting his and he tells you that “You look at me when I’m fucking you.” Your pussy is throbbing and your hands are clutching, your mouth is moaning and your heart is dying.

You’ve continued this sick relationship with Rafe for a year, growing into adults together in the most backward way. Sneaking around, falling out of love, but staying so desperately in love with who he used to be, begging him to get clean, trying to understand him, keep him from killing himself, trying to mend the relationship between him and his father; or rather, trying to salvage what was left of it.

You couldn’t imagine stopping, though. You couldn’t give him up - not really, not the way you were supposed to. You would have been an embarrassment to the Cameron name if you had continued dating your now step-brother. Even though people were aware of your relationship prior to Rose and Ward getting together. Marriage precedes dating, and so they won the battle. You think that this was Rafe’s way of fighting for you. Or rather, fighting his dad for you. Because he’d taken you away from him, so instead of being an embarrassment to his father by dating his step-sister, he’d become the drug addict family fuck up instead. You knew the truth though. Rafe had never experienced love until you. And then his father took that away, just like he took everything else away from him.

“You know I love you, Rafe. I will always love you.” You tell him, dragging the words out longer than you intend to, your breath short and sad.

You’re not surprised when he doesn’t say anything back to you, but his hand catches your jaw and he tilts your face up to his, lips in a sneer. His eyes grow dark and he looks at you with distain. Hi lip curls as he tells you, “You will always be mine. You can try to act like you aren’t, but you are. I fucking own you. I will always own you.” He watches for you to rebel, sighing in content before leaning down to press his lips gingerly to yours. His eyes stay open and on yours as he pointedly thrusts his cock inside you slowly, as if drilling the words into you. You keep your eyes trained on his as you say,

“I know you love me, too. Say it, tell me you love me. Be a man and fucking say it."

He’s silent above you, hand wrapping around your throat as he curls his body into you, hips jutting forward in search of release, gaining control as you feel him cum inside you before he manages to say anything, the beginning of regret filling your blood stream and you close your eyes tightly at the bitter defeat. You allowed him into your body and your heart without him having earned any of what you’d just confessed. You know he knows you still love him, and you know he still loves you. But he’s tried his hardest to prove to you that he doesn’t.

You're trembling, over sensitive when his fingers lazily find your cunt and push back inside, watching you with intent as he collects and pushes his cum back inside you. He’s watching you almost like he’s studying you, his head tilting when your head tilts in a mix of desire and discomfort, his fingers buried knuckle deep. You gush around him and he kisses you, lips hovering tauntingly over yours. He pulls back to kiss your cheeks and tells you,

“Of course I love you, my beautiful girl. How could I not love you? Miss you so bad it fucking hurts. Never stopped loving you.”

That night tipped the see-saw of back and forth between the two of you, caution to the wind, Rafe would come to you more nights than not, and he’d fuck you on your bed before telling you how much he loved you and slipping out before the sun rose.

What you didn’t know, though was that before the tip of the bow, Rafe had slipped into your bedroom and taken photos of the birth control pills in your beside drawer, showing them to Barry the next day and telling him to get him placebos. It was 3 days later that he’d popped out the number of pills you’d taken on your current pack, as well as that current pack before placing the new one perfectly in place in your drawer before closing it as if nothing had happened.

“Gonna get clean for you.” He told you one night, and you nodded under his palm as he held you close, begging him. “Please, Rafe. I can’t be in this by myself."

So when you'd texted Rafe to meet you in your room after dinner 2 months after that night, he locked the door behind him and the black in his eyes told you he couldn’t keep his promise. You kept hold of his gaze until his knees hit the bed, your small hand coming up to his chest before he could press his own to your sturnum before pushing you down, your other hand clutching the stick in your palm. You look up at him and when you lock eyes, he understands, because he takes your hand from his chest and squeezes it in his own before leaning down to touch his lips to yours.

"I miss you, baby. My beautiful girl.” He says, using his free hand to twist your head to the side, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down from your cheek to your jaw, down your neck and just above your chest.

You want to yell at him, swat his hands away as they come up to cradle your face, but you’re too overwhelmed, too hormonal, too busy in your mind to do anything but melt into his warm touch, safe and protected.

His lips trail back up and his breath fans hot against your mouth, his scent so familiar and home to you. You can't stop the tears from falling, your hand loosening from his hand to hold onto his forearm that connected to the fingers clutching your cheek tenderly but firmly in place, kissing you like he really does love you again.

How badly you missed him, too.

"Rafe, please…” You try, your hand falling and one of his breaks from your cheek, taking this moment to capture his hand with your fingers and place the stick into his palm. His eyes flick away from yours to look down at what you've given him, and you watch with fear as his brows furrow, his feet shuffling to back up and you brace yourself.

He doesn't react how you expect him to. He stares so deeply down into his palm that when his eyes do reconnect with yours, confusion in his own eyes, his head tilting just the slightest and you're trembling, waiting for the shoe to drop. He sniffs, rubbing his nose, clearing any remains of his relapse out of your sight. His mouth opens before closing, brow furrowing as he snorts, a half chuckle, his hand coming up into his hair to rake his bangs back, scratching the back of his neck.

“This what I think it is?" His eyes screw up shut and he shakes his head like he's imagining things and he's crazy. “You’re pregnant?" He finally asks, looking up at you again and you can only nod.

“Mine?" He asks again, catching you off guard, brows shooting up and you scoff, because really? Was he kidding? Who else was sneaking into your room after midnight, invading your body and your heart?

"Yes, Rafe, I'm pregnant and it’s yours.” You tell him bitterly before standing and he's still shaking his head, wincing as if he's being told the craziest thing in the world - because really, he is. But you've sat with this for the entire day and while your reaction wasn't as confused, you too felt the familiar disbelief.

You watch him take breaths through his nose, deep breaths in and out before you're in a whirlwind and he closes the distance between you and pulls you to him, tucking your head underneath his chin, the back of your skull rested protectively in his large palm. His lips are at your forehead when he tells you

"I'm going to take care of it."

You raise your head from his hand and your eyes lock on his to question him. “What does that mean? Take care of it?” You’re suddenly timid, your hand instinctively coming to rest on your lower abdomen.

“They’re not keeping me from my kid. Fuck that.” He tells you, watching your eyes soften and thank god. Not that you would have been surprised if Rafe suggested you take care of it. Now that you have a moment to collect yourself, you realize it’s actually what you expected from him. Maybe not from the sweet boy who held your hand on the beach when you were sixteen, but from the man who stood before you now.

“You want this?” he suddenly asks you, and you look up at him after realizing your eyes are locked on his chest, and you tell him honestly. “Does it matter? S’already happened.” You whisper, eyes pleading wide and scared, suddenly full of fear and you try pulling away from him, but his arms lock around you and keep you steady to him as you huff with exhaustion. “Rafe, please let me go, I…"

“Shhhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you, it’s okay, baby I promise it’s going to be okay.” He tells you and you believe him, high or not, you cling to him, fingers tugging at his shirt, your tears soaking the fabric, not caring how you look or how you sound, because what the fuck are you going to do now?

“Baby please don’t cry. I’m going to make this okay. I swear, I’m going to make this okay.” You look up and into the eyes of your whole world. The boy turned man that you so deeply love. Your boyfriend turned step brother. The one whose hands are bloodied from trying to protect his father who ripped everything away from him every chance he could. How are you supposed to believe him? Were you going to run away with a murderer who you’ll knowingly harbor for the rest of your life? What you don’t truly know will kill you - you know that. You know you’d pick up and leave this place if it meant being with Rafe. You’d told him that the night he came back after the wedding bomb. But he couldn’t tell you the same, and so he’s ridden the train down this path of self destruction, danger, evil, and crime just to protect the one person who has caused him so much pain. And not only him, but you too.

You realize now that you could handle being hurt by Rafe, and even by Ward. But now you painfully realize that what you couldn’t handle the idea of your own innocent child that was half you and half the wounded and hurting boy who just wanted to be loved by the only parent he had left being hurt. So only one question swirled in your mind.

Would he let his father cause your child pain, too?

NEXT PART

Please let me know what you think, and if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

[mclennonlgbt]

Paris in John and Paul’s life

30th September 1961:

“John and I went on a trip for his twenty-first birthday. John was from a very middle-class family, which really impressed me because everyone else was from working-class families. To us John was upper class. His relatives were teachers, dentists, even someone up in Edinburgh in the BBC. It’s ironic, he was always very ‘fuck you!’ and he wrote the song ‘Working Class Hero’ – in fact, he wasn’t at all working class. Anyway, one of John’s relatives gave him £100 for his birthday. A hundred smackers in your hand! That was a real windfall. None of us could believe it. To this day if you gave me £100 I would be impressed. And I was his mate, enough said? ‘Let’s go on holiday.’ – ‘You mean me too? With the hundred quid? Great! I’m part of this windfall.’” - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“We planned to hitchhike to Spain. I had done a spot of hitchhiking with George and we knew you had to have a gimmick; we had been turned down so often and we’d seen that guys that had a gimmick (like a Union Jack round them) had always got the lifts. So I said to John, ‘Let’s get a couple of bowler hats.’ It was showbiz creeping in. We still had our leather jackets and drainpipes – we were too proud of them not to wear them, in case we met a girl; and if we did meet a girl, off would come the bowlers. But for lifts we would put the bowlers on. Two guys in bowler hats – a lorry would stop! Sense of Humour. This, and the train, is how we got to Paris." - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“And Paul and I also did the same thing, once. We just cancelled. We’d made it, in Liverpool. We were making good money, for those days. I can’t remember what it was – maybe a couple of hundred dollars a week – but enough that you’d have a little extra. You’d have it in your back pocket. And Paul and I just— A relative of mine gave me a hundred pounds, for my birthday, which I’d never seen that much money in me life. Paul and I just canceled all the engagements, and left for Paris… And George was furious, because he needed the money – to work, you know. But that was another time when the group was in debate as whether it would exist or not.”  - John Lennon, 1976, an interview with Elliot Mintz

“Last night I heard that John and Paul have gone to Paris to play together – in other words, the band has broken up! It sounds mad to me, I don’t believe it…” - Stuart Sutcliffe, Anthology

"They were brothers. They were the Nerk Twins, and now they were taking a break from the Beatles and going off to Spain. En route, they’d stop a day or two in Paris, to size up the Brigittes, check out the kind of clothes Jurgen Vollmer wore, and perhaps see Jurgen himself, if he was around. [Johnny] Gustafson happened to bump into them the day they left, Saturday 30 September. “They both had bowler hats on, with the usual leather jackets and jeans. They said they were off to Paris, so I walked down to Lime Street station with them and watched them go. They were an incredible pair: always great fun, irreverent, and so close.” - Mark Lewisohn, All These Years: Volume One

“We’d never been there before. We were a bit tired so we checked into a little hotel for the night, intending to go off hitchhiking the next morning. Of course, it was too nice a bed after having hitched so we said, ‘We’ll stay a little longer,’ then we thought, ‘God, Spain is a long way, and we’d have to work to get down there.’ We ended up staying the week in Paris – John was funding it all with his hundred quid.

We would walk miles from our hotel; you do in Paris. We’d go to a place near the Avenue des Anglais and we’d sit in the bars, looking good. I still have some classic photos from there. Linda loves one where I am sitting in a gendarme’s mac as a cape and John has got his glasses on askew and his trousers down revealing a bit of Y-front. The photographs are so beautiful, we’re really hamming it up. We’re looking at the camera like, ‘Hey, we are artsy guys, in a café: this is us in Paris,’ and we felt like that.

We went up to Montmartre because of all the artists, and the Folies Bergères, and we saw guys walking around in short leather jackets and very wide pantaloons. Talk about fashion! This was going to kill them when we got back. This was totally happening. They were tight to the knee and then they flared out; they must have been about fifty inches around the bottom and our drainpipe trousers were something like fifteen or sixteen inches. We saw these trousers and said, ‘Excusez-moi, Monsieur, où did you get them?’ It was a cheap little rack down the street so we bought a pair each, went back to the hotel, put them on, went out on the street – and we couldn’t handle it: ‘Do your feet feel like they are flapping? Feel more comfortable in me drainies, don’t you?’ So it was back to the hotel at a run, needle and cotton out and we took them in to a nice sixteen with which we were quite happy. And then we met Jürgen Vollmer on the street. He was still taking pictures." - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“Jürgen had a flattened-down hairstyle with a fringe in the front, which we rather took to. We went over to his place and there and then he cut – hacked would be a better word – our hair into the same style.” - John Lennon, 1963

Interviewer: I heard you took a trip to Spain before once, didn’t you? On Holiday? Paul: I didn’t go to Spain, no. I tried once to make Spain but… and John and I were gonna hitchhike. We hitchhiked down from Liverpool… We didn’t hitchhike. No, we got the train down from Liverpool ‘cause we thought we won’t hitchhike down the first bit. And we got the boat over to Paris. Then we got the train into Paris ‘cause we thought: “Well, it’ll be too hard to get a hitch here”. And we just stayed in Paris all week. And eventually… I mean, all the time trying to get out of Paris and make Spain! We never made it, we just flew home at the end. What a lazy hitchhiking Holiday!

“The thing was all the kissing and holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic just to be there and see them even though I was 21 and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing. And they weren’t not mauling at each other, they were just kissing.” - John Lennon

"John’s 21st birthday was a month away, and he knew he was getting money — 100 pounds cash, more than he or Paul had ever seen in their lives. (…) Bob Wooler was party to their planning, and fought with them:

They were bored, and decided they would go away for a month. I thought this was disastrous because they would be away from the scene too long and lose their fans, Fans were very capricious: they moved from one group to another. And anyway, what about the other two members, George Harrison and Pete Best?. What about them, what do they do? We argued a lot about this — we argued in the back room of the grapes pub to a large extent —- and they said ‘Well, we’ll go away for a fortnight only’

(…) Equally, the promoters who paid the Beatles over-the-odds to present them every week had to “lump it” (….). To a man, and woman, they were incensed by it - but John and Paul hadn’t a care. They didn’t mean to be rude about it but basically it was tough shit.

it was tough too on Dot and Cyn, Dot simply had to accept the situation, but Cyn had a greater case of grievance. John was heading off without her when he could so easily gave waited for the art school holidays. (…).

That John was taking Paul, no one else, accentuates the renewed closeness since Stu quit The Beatles. They were the Beatles force, an unstoppable and authentically powerful pair. “Lennon had the attitude”, Wooler said, “and taking his lead from Lennon, McCartney could be similar. At times they reminded me of those well-to-do Chicago lads Leopold and Loeb, who killed someone because they felt superior to him. Lennon and McCartney were superior human beings”

"You’d always see them together, in the pub or walking along the street", says Johnny Gustafson of the Big Tree. "They were a duo, and seemed each other’s equal". Bernie Boyle, the young lad hanging around with them at every opportunity, says, "They were like brothers, with John as the elder and Paul’s mentor. They were so tight it was like there was a telepathy between them: on stage, they’d look at each other and know instinctively what the other was thinking"

They were brothers. They were the Nerk Twins, and now they were taking a break from The Beatles and gofin off to Spain. 

Gustafson happened to bump into them the day they left, Saturday, September 30. “They both had bowler hats on, with the usual leather jackets and jeans. They said they were off to Paris, so I walked down to Lime Street station and watched them go. They were an incredible pair: always great fun, irreverent and so close. - Mark Lewisohn, Tune In: The Beatles: All These Years (2013)

As was written in this post: That last picture is one Paul took of John sleeping in Paris. From what I remember of a performance he did of ‘Here Today’, and earlier comments, this picture hangs framed on a wall in Paul’s house.

Unconfirmed quote (may or may not be true): 

"He must have been fond of me to spend that money. He let me have all the banana milkshakes I wanted.”  - Paul McCartney

In January 1964, only a few scant weeks before the Beatles took America by storm, the band mates settled in for an extended stay in Paris. For the group, the Parisian visit proved to be a magical experience, with the Beatles playing 18 shows at the Olympia Theatre between Jan. 16 and Feb. 4 (source).

The Beatles were staying at the George V Hotel at the time. John and Paul composed "Can't Buy Me Love", "I Should Have Known Better" and "If I Fell" on the piano.

The photo Paul took of John (in the "Eyes Of The Storm" book):

1966: Paul, his girlfriend Maggie McGivern, John and Brian Epstein spend 5 days in Paris. "All of them flew into France separately — Lennon had been filming abroad and Epstein had been away on business. Maggie and Paul, she says, traveled apart ‘as part of keeping the relationship secret’. During the five-day trip the foursome stayed at the same Paris hotel where she and Paul shared a luxury suite. ‘It was a marvelous holiday,’ she says. ‘. . . just walking around the streets of Paris.‘My abiding memory is of me, John and Paul lying under the Eiffel Tower, gazing up at it. We couldn’t go up because we would have been recognised, and we were masters at the art of avoiding people." [x]

1969:

Hoping to get married in France, John Lennon and Yoko Ono flew to Paris on this day [16th March].

The couple had decided to marry on 14 March 1969, two days after the wedding of Paul McCartney to Linda Eastman; whether it was in response to this event on some level is open to conjecture.

On McCartney’s wedding day Lennon and Ono were travelling to Poole in Dorset, where he introduced her to his Aunt Mimi. During the journey he asked his chauffeur Les Anthony to go to Southampton to enquire about the possibility of the wedding being held at sea, on the cross-channel ferry to France.

(source)

“On March 12, Paul married Linda Eastman at Marylebone Register Office in London, amid scenes of hysterical grief from his female fans. None of the other Beatles was present. The news reached John as he and Yoko were driving down to visit Aunt Mimi in Poole. Yoko’s divorce decree had become final a few weeks earlier, and, in a resurgence of Beatle copycat, John told her they, too, must get married as soon as possible” - Philip Norman, John Lennon: The Life (2008)

"We chose Gibraltar because it is quiet, British and friendly. We tried everywhere else first. I set out to get married on the car ferry and we would have arrived in France married, but they wouldn’t do it. We were no more successful with cruise ships. We tried embassies, but three weeks’ residence in Germany or two weeks’ in France were required." - John Lennon

1974:

“After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”

“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.””

— May Pang, Loving John (1983)

1978:

Wings album "London Town" is released. It includes the song "Cafe on the Left Bank", the lyrics of which clearly refer to John and Paul's trip to Paris.

Late 1970s (maybe 1978?): John is singing to Paul about Paris in a home recording. Longer version

1970s: John writes "Skywriting by Word of Mouth", a book that would be released in 1986. One story is about sex he had with a woman in Paris. Here it is. As anon noticed here: "...the woman is called Amie L'Nitrate and Amyl Nitrate is a reference to poppers. He talks about grabbing her 'pomme de frites.' Her potatoes? He uses the term 'tread lightly on some loafers' which is an old euphenism for being gay. Amie says they should have sex to God Only Knows. Then John says their relationship ended in a seething rage but he still thinks of 'her.'" @sgtsaltsband concluded in the same post: "so he writes a story about PARIS ( where he and paul went on a trip for his 21st bday and never stopped talking about it ) , in the HOTEL where the Beatles stayed later on [Hotel V in 1964] , names the girl after POPPERS ( a drug commonly used by gay men during sex ) , the girl wants to have sex to PAULS fave song and he uses this PHRASE." Also: this is an excerpt of the story:

"Boogie" is a slang word for sex or dance (also, "Born to Boogie" is a 1972 movie starring Marc Bolan, Elton John and Ringo Starr). "Band on the Run" is a Paul McCartney and Wings' album which John loved. "Sue you sue me" can be a reference to to the Beatles' legal and business disputes and the fact that Paul sued John, George and Ringo in December 1970, and to "Sue Me, Sue You Blues", a song by George.

(thank you @menlove for uploading the story and pointing out interesting words!)

1994 - Paul inducting John to Rock and Roll Hall of Fame:

“And then on your 21st birthday you got £100 off one of your rich relatives up in Edinburgh, so we decided we’d go to Spain. So we hitch-hiked out of Liverpool. And we got as far as Paris, and decided to stop there for a week. And eventually got our haircut, by a fellow named Jürgen, and that ended up being the ‘Beatle haircut’.”

I also remember watching an interview with Paul about his album "Memory Almost Full" (2007). Thank you for adding, @ringompreg!

(it's like 7 minutes in) Interviewer: There is a very beautiful song called "The End Of The End", the way you talk about your whole ending, and the lyric goes: "It's a start of a journey to a much better place." You mean, better than England? Paul: It's basically a start of a journey to France. Or Spain through France. Yeah, that's what it is. It's a much better place, Paris.

Also worth mentoning:

"All You Need Is Love" begins with La Marseillaise.

"Picasso's Last Words (Drink To Me)" contains French-language speech by BBC broadcaster Pierre Le Sève.

Bonus