#there's a small bit of it there so might as well

[luveline]

can you pls do Sirius and his loser!gf <3 where she’s getting insecure about how cool he is and how much of a loser she is so she stops doing her fun little hobbies and tries to change and he can’t wrap his head around it? luv u 

fem, 2.4k

Shaving the backs of your legs is hard, but you only cut yourself once. More of a rash. It’s fine. And buying new clothes is worse, trying everything on, attempting to make outfits you aren’t brave enough to wear, it’s difficult, but Sirius got you a gift card for your birthday with too much money on it anyways. It’s okay. Doing your makeup like this, following the tutorials and learning how to keep a steady hand, it was frustrating, but it’s done now. 

You turn in the mirror in silence. Small black dress with a reasonable and yet somehow brave skirt. Loafers, leather, shiny and brown. White socks. Baby sleeves, little silver necklace. You look cute, you do, but Sirius sees you everyday. This was all pointless —he knows you’re a loser already. 

He won’t laugh at you, but he’ll raise his brows and whistle or ask what’s gotten into you, because this isn’t normal. You’re not normal. 

“Darling,” he says from somewhere downstairs, and you aren’t ever sure if he’s teasing or if he actually thinks you’re his darling, “are you ready to go? Not that you need to rush, but we might have more chance of getting a table if we leave soon.” 

“Yeah, two seconds!”

“Okay!” There’s a sound of scuffed boots against the wall. “I’m gonna go find Tilly!”

Tilly’s your little white cat. His suggestion, an uncharacteristic expression of worry. I don’t want you to be lonely, he’d said, though you both know you’re always lonely, less so since you met him. You’re a lonely person, and it’s not anyone’s fault, but Sirius acts as though it’s his and he tries his hardest to fix things. Tilly —his name choice, too, the posh bastard— was a year old by the time you got him and has remained very small. A rescue, he refuses to stay inside and yowls like mad if you restrain him, so you let him out in the garden in the daytime. Your house is far from the beaten path, you don’t worry about him often, and besides, he always comes when Sirius calls. 

He barely has to raise his voice for the cat when you hear the tinkle of a jumping bell. “There you are, sweet boy. Yes, hello. You aren’t having anymore ham, it’s your mum’s.” 

That’s nice. 

You gather some bits into a handbag and wrap a jacket around your strange outfit, ready to head downstairs. You’re hoping Sirius won’t have anything to say about what you’re wearing. You might die. 

When you get to the kitchen, Sirius is stroking Tilly’s back as the cat eats a slice of ham from a little saucer on the table. He looks up at your footsteps. Even now, he takes your breath away. It’s a rabid cliche and it couldn’t be more accurate —you choke on your exhale, witness to his good looks in the warm yellow light from the kitchen shade above. Sirius has always been handsome, outspokenly so, and somehow simultaneously there’s an understated quality to him. Perhaps it’s how he’s smiling at you, all warmth and no bravado. Not a lick of performance. You’ll never know why you were the exception, why, that night at the show, surrounded by people far prettier than you are, he’d stopped by your table and said, “Alright?” 

Yes, you’d said back. Thank you. 

You’re welcome. I’m Sirius.

You know now it was unlike him to act so calmly. He must’ve sensed that grand flirting would’ve scared you off. Not that he doesn’t flirt, does he ever stop? But your Sirius often feels like a secret. He only makes sense with you when you’re alone. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, smug in his way. 

“Nothing.” 

“Well,” he says, letting the pause between his words breathe deeply, “you look beautiful. But you have a cut?” 

You turn your knee to show him more clearly, peering down at it unhappily, “Oh, I know, I cut it in the bath, is it noticeable?” 

“It’s fine. Does it hurt?” 

You rub your cheek. “No, not really. I’m ready now, sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, why are you sorry?” He rubs Tilly’s little snout and stands. “I feel quite stir crazy today. Do you know what I mean? If we weren’t going out for food I’d probably scream.” 

Sirius cups your cheek. He’s not particularly gentle, but that doesn’t mean he’s throwing you about either, quick and greedy with his touching in a way that’s never made much sense to you. 

He takes your shoulder and ferries you from the house, locks the door, insists on driving. “Tilly’s got the vets on Saturday next, I’ll make sure I’m not doing anything, it’s at five so we’ll go at half four, yeah?” 

“Thank you. For sorting everything out.”

“Well, he’s not really a present if I make you do all that stuff, is it?”

“You don’t have to keep paying for his food, though.” 

“Shut up, not having this conversation again.” He reaches over the gearstick for your thigh. “You look pretty. Don’t let me embarrass you, but this is quite new, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, yeah. I got it with the card you bought me. I hope that’s okay.” 

“Of course it is.” He frowns. You watch his face as he watches the road, melted by the rough of his hand slipping up and down your thigh. His bracelet tickles as he goes, a ten thread embroidery bracelet you’d woven for him when you were still too scared to call him your boyfriend. He takes good care of it. Never showers with it on, so the colours have stayed bright and clean. 

“The makeup is nice, too. You always look nice.” 

“Thank you,” you say, covering his hand with your own. This lessens his frown some, but he’s onto you. Suspicious as he parks the car by the pub. 

Then a blank slate falls over his pretty features. “Hey, you know what? James said there’s been a huge family of ducks in the pond behind the two for one, should we go have a look? Baby ones, too.” 

You grin. “Really?” 

“Green ones and everything.” 

You scramble out of the car. It’s a little brisk for the outfit you’ve made up, just, all the cool girls on the website you’d browsed for information had nice legs that they used to their advantage, nobody was wearing jeans or tights, just skirts. Skirts skirts skirts. And you like skirts, but you would’ve worn a pair of jeans and a hoodie any other day. It’s only dinner at the two for one. 

You and Sirius make your way down from the asphalt to the beaten path, through grass and to the edge of the pond, walking along lain wood chips as the pond opens up and the blue expands nearly further than the eye can see. 

“You’re terribly in your head today,” Sirius says. 

“Sorry, am I?” you ask. 

Not cool. You’re lying about not knowing, but Sirius is kind enough to let it slide. For now. “You are. I was wondering if maybe you aren’t happy in the dress. It really does look lovely, you look lovely. It’s nice that you’re trying something new.” 

“But?” 

He offers his hand to hold. You let him slip his fingers between yours and squeeze. “No buts. It really is nice. You know I like you in your joggers, but it’s nice to dress up.” 

You bite back another useless oh, pulling him toward you as you fall into step. Your arms and your shoulders touch. “Yeah. I don’t look stupid?” 

“You don’t look stupid,” he confirms. 

“I think I feel stupid.” 

“It’s always jarring to try new things. You think everyone can tell, but they can’t.” 

“I want this to be me. Like– like, it’s not that I don’t want to dress like this, I do. I don’t think it’s stupid to want to look dressed up or anything…” 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” 

You falter where the wood chips are turned to long, green grass at the edge of the water. “What?” 

“Why don’t you make your bracelets anymore?” 

“My bracelets?” 

“Yeah, and your keychains. You don’t make them. You haven’t been watching your shows, either. I… was worried you were going a bit topsy-turvy. You’ve always been my…” You stare at him, not sure you recognise this Sirius who can’t seem to put words together. “You’re a quiet girl, yeah? You don’t go out much, but I thought you liked things that way. I was wondering if maybe you’re a bit depressed, sweetheart. What do you think? Tell me how you’re feeling.” 

You shake your head gently. “Maybe a little, just…” 

You cast your eyes to the water. At the other end of the lake, the family of ducks have emerged from by the cattails and the pondweeds, swimming far, far away in a broken V. 

You don’t usually keep things from Sirius. It’s a big part of why you love him —he loves to hear you talk. You can chat for hours about nothing at all and he eats it up, interrupting with jokes and kisses and soft touches behind your ear. But what are you supposed to say to him now? I feel like I’m not enough for you, not cool enough, not charming. “Do you ever think it’s sad that I can’t seem to make any good friends?” you ask through a smile. “I try my best. I’ve joined all those clubs and I talk to people on the internet, but somehow I’ve never really made any.” 

“You do try your best,” he agrees quietly. 

“But you’re, like, the only person I’ve met who properly likes me.” 

“That’s not true. I’m just the only person who’s managed to get to know you, it’s not– it’s not as simple as liking you. James really likes you, but I’m your boyfriend and he’s not. It’s circumstance.” 

You’re tempted to laugh. “I’m uncool. It’s not funny, it’s quite bad, really, that all my hobbies are stupid, that I never learned how to dress, that– I’m so behind everyone. I think it’s quite miraculous that I have a boyfriend in the first place, but you being my boyfriend? It only happens in books.” 

Sirius acts more like himself when you’re done, loosing your hand go to grab you by the face. “That’s all rubbish,” he says, pressing a sympathetic kiss to the space between your eyebrows. He lingers there, forcing you to shut your eyes tightly. “Yeah? That’s rubbish, you know that’s rubbish. You do. You’ve thought about it too much and you’re not feeling the best and you’ve, like, twisted it up. Because you aren’t uncool, and you aren’t stupid, and this doesn’t just happen in books. It happens in real life, that’s why people write about it.” He’s drawn away, frowning in the frame of your parting lashes. “The things you like aren’t stupid, sweetheart, they’re just not all the same as everyone else. It’s okay to be a bit different, it’s not like you’re an alien. There are tons of girls who like to do your crafts and watch those long tv shows and stuff, you don’t think they’re weird, do you?” 

You shake your head. 

“No.” He relaxes his hold on your face, his hands slipping to the curves of your neck. “I quite like you, which you know. I like that you’re a bit different. I like that you’re quiet with people we don’t know, ‘cos you’re not shy with me. You’re just you, my girl.” 

“I know you like me,” you murmur. 

It doesn’t help you like yourself as much as you both might hope, but it’s not anything to shake your head at, either. 

Sirius manoeuvres you in front of him, his face pressed to the side of your head and his arms coming to hold you at your chest, encouraging you to look out at the water. It ripples with the flock of coming ducks. “Shiny heads,” you mumble. 

“They are much prettier,” he says. “Bet all the other ducks think they’re weird.” 

“Shush,” you mumble, wishing he’d say more as he draws a heart into your chest with his thumb. You can feel it despite your layers. 

“Bet they love doing weird duck stuff.” 

“Subtle.” 

“I’m not subtle, and I never will be, and you don’t mind.” 

It’s heavy-handed but effective. You relax into Sirius’ chest and find yourself suddenly eager to come clean completely, to tell him every detail of the worries you’ve worried these last few weeks, but you wonder if there’s a point. It’ll upset him if he knows how deeply your self-disdain runs, and it’s not as though it makes you feel better to confess to it. 

He noses at the soft skin beside your eye. “You know there’s nothing wrong with you, don’t you?” 

“I don’t know that.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” 

You lean back fully. “Thanks,” you say. Your mouth feels heavy with honey.  

Sirius points at a duck splitting off from the group. “That’s one of the babies. Cute. And friendless for now, but I bet soon–”

You turn in his arms and wrap your own around his neck. “It’s not about friends, Sirius.” 

“I know.” 

He gives you a quick, loving cuddle by the water and pulls apart from you with a twinkle in his eye you recognise and revere. When he spends the evening doting, kissing, and being altogether too touchy, you want to be embarrassed, rejecting his affection because you begged for it with your awkward confession, but you let him be kind to you because you love him, and he loves you, no matter how many ways you might try to change.

He sees you smiling dopily at him over dessert and asks if you’d like to be spoon fed. Won’t get anything on your dress, swear. 

[y-avann-a]

I have two of these stories, both kinds of funny because while the injuries hurt they were also arguably weird!

Once I stumped my little toe in a door arch and because I was wearing fuzzy socks I didn't see too much and just thought a little ice and a good night's rest and I'll be fine - wrong! While icing it I thought hmm feels wrong somehow - I remove the fuzzy sock and see my little toe facing in a very very wrong direction (think Iii√). Of course I was not an emergency when I arrived at the hospital.. other than my ugly crying after I recovered from a small passing out due to the ungodly sight of my foot and some wobbly walking I just "stumped my toe and it hurts more than normal and looks weird" - well turns out I not only broke the bone of my little toe (actually not that bad, they mostly don't even do anything about it) but apparently the tiny bit of bone also sprang out of its socket! After all four doctors present in that Saturday night medium city hospital discussed about half an hour about how much and what exactly to do I get the most painful pain-killer injection I have ever received and the nice lady who presented the arguments about a dislocated toe being way worse than a broken one and might result in eternal pain and therefore wrong posture etc etc takes four of fives tries but finally gets my tiny bone shard back in the socket and then the other bone shard to connect again and I get the tiniest little cast around it and am told to come back Monday because they need to take another X-ray to make sure it stays in place after a few days of walking around (it did, and I still feel it in cold weather like some old-timer sailor)

The other story is shorter and more to the point of op: I broke my tailbone and the one directly above because I fell down a wet staircase. First I had to wait for two hours in an emergency room but of course I can't sit and there is no space for lying down except the floor so it's horrible the whole time... And then of course I am overweight, so "it can't be really bad, the body has so much cushion around the tailbone" but they were kind enough to do an X-ray anyways even though it's "not likely" anything actually broke.... Well it did. And apparently no one there has ever seen anything like that other than in their textbook and there is also no way to treat it, so I just get sent home with pain killers and a donut pillow that I will probably have to use "for a few weeks" (it was 3 months before I could handle a normal un-cushioned chair) and of course the good old "please come back Monday when the senior Ortho specialist is in house" who was in similar disbelief as their younger peers but at least had seen it before and told me to come back in four weeks for another X-ray and progress report, because the only other thing next to resting and donut pillow is a surgery he would like to avoid (it healed slowly but was ok and is only ever any problem when my general (mental) health is so low that my body targets old spots everywhere to send "need rest asap"-signals)

Doctor: What do you see in this X-ray?

Students: *collective gasp*

Doctor: Please don’t do that in front of patients.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° you outshine the morning sun

( sae itoshi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — just a short drabble bc domestic sae has invaded my brain

♡ word count — 705

♡ content — sae itoshi x reader, sae x fem! reader, made sae abt 25 in this, marriage mentioned, pregnancy mentioned. AN: i'd give this man as many babies as he wants.

♡ synopsis — sae itoshi didn't need to be a soccer god, not as long as he had you

The roar of the crowd still buzzed in Sae Itoshi’s ears as he exited the stadium, the post-game adrenaline barely settled in his veins. The night air was thick with the voices of fans calling his name, their desperation and admiration mixing into a cacophony he had long since learned to ignore.

"Sae! Just one autograph!"

"Marry me, Sae! Please! Just one chance!"

"I’d give you as many babies as you want!"

The shrill voices of young girls, the deep admiration from older men, the wistful sighs of women both young and old—none of it meant anything to him. He kept his gaze forward, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he pushed through the chaos. The only thing on his mind was getting home.

A sleek black car idled by the curb, the driver standing by the door, already well aware of the arrangement. No talking. No questions. Just drive and get him home as quickly as possible, and the tip would be hefty. An even bigger one if the trip was fast.

Sae slid into the back seat without a word, the door shutting out the noise of the world outside. He exhaled sharply, leaning back against the seat as the car pulled away from the stadium and into the quiet of the night. The streetlights blurred past, but he barely noticed them. Instead, his hands moved instinctively to his duffel bag, fingers searching through the smallest inside pocket until they curled around something cool and familiar.

A simple silver ring, discreet and unassuming, warmed quickly in his palm. His thumb brushed over the carved initials—his and yours—etched into the metal. He slipped it onto his ring finger, feeling a sense of calm wash over him.

Yeah. He just needed to get home.

The drive was mercifully quick, and before long, he was stepping out of the car and up the pathway to the house—the one place in the world where he wasn’t Sae Itoshi, soccer legend. He barely had time to set his duffel bag down when something small and fast crashed into his leg.

"Daddy!"

A grin tugged at Sae’s lips as he looked down, teal eyes meeting an identical pair staring up at him with pure joy. His daughter, barely three years old, clung to his leg with all her might. Her soft pink hair was pulled up into two messy pigtails, bouncing as she giggled.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, crouching down to scoop her into his arms. She fit so perfectly against him, her tiny hands grabbing onto his jersey as if she never wanted to let go. And he? He didn’t mind one bit.

"Oh! I didn’t know you’d be home so soon," your voice rang out from the kitchen, warm and full of love. Sae glanced up just as you turned the corner, a wooden spoon in your hand, eyes crinkling at the sight of him. "The game just ended."

"Took a shortcut," he said simply, stepping closer to you.

His gaze flickered down to the soft curve of your stomach, where a second life—one he helped create—was steadily growing. Without hesitation, he reached out, resting a gentle hand there, feeling the warmth of your body beneath his fingertips.

A soft smile played on your lips as he leaned in, pressing a quick but meaningful kiss against them. Before you could deepen it, a tiny voice piped up between you.

"Yuck!" your daughter squealed, squirming in his arms.

You laughed, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of pink hair behind her ear. "You say that now, but one day, you’ll think it’s sweet."

"Nuh-uh!" she insisted, her little nose scrunching up in defiance.

Sae chuckled, finally feeling the weight of the world ease off his shoulders. Here, there were no screaming fans, no demanding coaches, no suffocating expectations. Just you, your daughter, and the quiet hum of home.

Sae Itoshi didn’t need fangirls, fanboys, or old women begging for his attention. He didn’t need adoration from the world, validation from the media, or the empty promises of strangers who only saw him as a soccer god.

Sae Itoshi just needed this.

Sae Itoshi just needed to be home.

Sae Itoshi just needed you.

posting this as an apology for going MIA for a bit :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

[amorchai]

𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓.

this is a repost from my old blog. original post was 300 notes.

pairing(s): eddie munson x female!barista!reader

words: 1468

warnings/tags: barista!au, eddie being shy.

eddie liked to think he was a romantic. he enjoyed rom-coms more-so than crime or drama, and as much as he loved horror. he liked the thought of being in love and caring for a person, everything being irretrievably about them. buying someone flowers, kissing their cheeks, and playing the guitar for them.

however, he had never been in a relationship. so, why was it the second the opportunity to be provided with the things he’s yearned for that he’s being such a coward? eddie’s foot taps against the gravel outside the small café nervously while he waited to enter.

he leant against the wall, head low while his eyes scan the little notebook in one hand, the other hand’s thumb picking the nail polish off his pointer finger as he reads frantically and nervously. eddie came here every. single. day. yet he was too nervous to step inside.

step 1 – start light. ask her how she is. step 2 – react to what she has to say, show you’re listening!!!   step 3 – tell her she looks pretty. step 4 – ask her if she’s busy later tonight. step 5 – ask her if she likes italian food. step 6 – if 4&5 are yes’ then make it clear IT’S A DATE.

there is an array of scribbles and differed handwriting across the small page, robin and steve previously fighting over the pen as they gave eddie pointers during the quiet day at family video. robin assuring she’s a girl and knows, steve disagreeing and saying he’s a pro at this kind of thing.

eddie had talked about the barista he was quickly falling for, one day rushing in for a coffee before hellfire club only to meet the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. since then you had seen him in every day, ready for a coffee and sometimes to sit and spend his days tucked by his notepad.

with a smidgen of hope you’d feel the same way, eddie inhales deeply in preparation before stepping into the quiet café. too early to have a lot of people, which was great, because it meant there was no queue holding him back from talking to you.

a smile creeped upon your face from the moment you saw him, glancing at his pad once more before stuffing it back in his back pocket. his eyes lock with yours and a goofy grin reaches the metal-heads lips, and you feel yourself swooning from behind the counter.

���hi eddie,” you’re so sweet, talking so delicately and calmly that eddie wants to reach over and kiss your precious cheeks right then and there. but he sticks to the list, wanting to be a gentleman and take his time.

step 1 – start light. ask her how she is.

eddie’s usually quite confident, flirty with you. leaving you with a wink and unfortunately nothing farther. so, you immediately notice the turn in attitude. his lip twitches while he smiles and eyebrows are furrowing, eyes blinking rapidly.

“morning, it’s- yeah,” he begins, cursing to himself as he purses his lips and watches as your eyebrows raise in interest, you’re confused by how uncertain he seems. eddie continues before you can question him, “uh- how are you doing, how are you?”

you giggle at eddie’s rambled tone, light and airy and eddie feels himself relax that little bit more hearing it, if only it wasn’t over how much of a fool he sounded. “i’m better now that you’re here, quiet morning.”

eddie nods, the flirty message flying right over his head as he tries to think back to the notes.

step 2 – react to what she has to say, show you’re listening.

“looks quiet too, i can imagine the boredom.”

you nod this time. fingers fidgeting with the till register while looking up at eddie from across the counter, “well my favourite customer has come in so i think that’s the cue for my boredom to leave.” eddie blushes, physically blushes at this, cheeks quickly turning a light shade of pink from your words and tries to play it off.

“wonder who that might be.” you both laugh, eddie’s nerves slowly leaving him part by part as he thinks he can do this. maybe he can ask you out after all, it seems to be going so well.

step 3 – tell her she looks pretty.

god, you did look pretty. so so pretty. cute apron over your autumn-coloured clothes while your eyes sparkled in the morning glow, skin radiating and lips kissable. if you were together, eddie would make sure to tell you every day just how gorgeous you really were, he knows he would.

before eddie can muster up something else to say, you’re talking, “what can i get for you today, eddie?” you would be able to make eddie a drink every day without question if it weren’t for his change in personalities.

one day it’s plain black coffee, no milks or sugars added, pure black coffee. or it was the most sickeningly sweet hot chocolate, syrups galore with sugar and almond milk to top it off, a ‘heart attack in a mug’ you always said to him. no in between order to suffice, eddie was one or the other.

“hot chocolate, please.” it was one of those days. when he ordered that he was happy or energized, not needing a wakeup call and wanting to indulge his sweet tooth. you know how he liked his hot chocolate order; he didn’t need to add that part.

“to-go or to-stay?” you ask, eyes hopeful as your hands hover the takeaway cups and mugs to the side and eddie drags his eyes away from your pretty mouth and towards your eyes, feeling he’s been caught, “to-stay, sitting in today.”

“working on more of your music?” you ask him, and eddie lets out a little nod with his lips pursed yet again. you can tell he’s thinking of something else and you’re proved right when he suddenly splutters, “you look really pretty.”

you freeze your movements with a shocked smile, “thank you.” eddie continues before you can say much more, “seriously, really, really pretty.” eddie’s eyes scan over your frame once again and you try to not show how much his words affect your beating heart.

“are you flirting with me, munson?” you tease him, laughing as he scrunches his face, shaking his head as if to escape all his thoughts while leaning forward, hands on the counter. you tightly hold the mug for his drink between both your hands, smile dropping as you look up at him expectantly, “i’m just going to rush through this because i’m so fucking nervous, okay?”

“okay?”

step 4 – ask her if she’s busy later tonight.

“when do you get off?” eddie asks, tone abrupt compared to the nervous tone moments ago, almost slightly desperate and you’re lucky the café’s quiet and therefore no onlooking eyes to your flustered expression.

you stutter this time, briefly while you reply, “i-uh i close tonight, finish at seven.” eddie grins, wide and happy before he asks, “are you busy after?”

your eyes widen knowingly, “no, no i’m not doing anything tonight, no.”

step 5 – ask her if she likes italian food.

“do you like italian food?” eddie asks and it’s as if everything falls into place. eddie munson is asking you out. finally. after the months of you hinting that you like him without the courage to ask him out yourself. he was looking at you with so much hope, scared that you may say you don’t want to go out with him to eat italian food.

he must be an idiot if he thinks you don’t like him back.

“i love pasta.” you’re so quiet with your response, almost a whisper. but more than enough for eddie to hear and he’s positively beaming from ear to ear as he builds up to his final question.

step 6 – if 4 is no and 5 is yes then make it clear IT’S A DATE.

“perfect. i’ll be here at seven to take you to dinner, it’s a date,” eddie drums his hands against the counter when he leans back and you can only nod dumbfoundedly from the switch of him being precious and nervous to asking you out on a date.

“i’ll uh- i’ll bring your drink out to you once it’s done.”

eddie chuckles at the fact that’s all you respond with, squeaked tone endearing as he winks at you. “i’ll be over there, writing you a song,” eddie nods over to the side, pulling the pad and pen out his back pocket and chuckles once more when you react to his flirtatious manner with a small, “oh my god.”

he finally got that date with the cute barista; he just hoped the hours would go by quickly until it reached seven.

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amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[goaskangel]

drunk sex with your sexy co-worker nanami!

cw : drunk sex, dubcon, mentions of breeding, toxxxiicc, suicide mention

mmm, you want nanami so fucking badly. 

you thought this new, high-end job was going to be good for you, get you on the right track for the stability you’ve been craving. sugar daddies or plain suicide crossed your mind an awful lot but fortunately,(?) that wasn’t the case. 

so easily distracted, you should’ve seen it coming. when overworked yet diligent personified passed you during work hours. oh, fuck me running through your crowded head as you squeezed your skirted thighs. 

maybe it was a good thing because you certainly cleaned up your act. got to work on time so he wouldn’t think you were slacking, ironed your new work clothes so he wouldn’t frown at the wrinkles of your button-up, or god forbid scoff. you already got the job so now you just needed some recognition from an older man. that you work with. that’s never looked in your direction. 

but god, he’s such delectable eye candy. 

you’re hesitant to attend your company’s 10 year anniversary. at a bar of all places, guess the work really gets to everybody. but you’re a lightweight and would probably sit all alone, trying to make crappy small talk to the bartender. probably hot too, but you think about nanami.

you know he drinks—past all his clean habits of combed hair and tailored suits, his breath fails to conceal his habits the night before. 

coworkers constantly joke about it and you finally got the treat of looking through his pristine behavior with the thick whiskey lingering on his tongue. 

if you were worse, you would’ve leaned in, arms around his neck and sucked all the alcohol right off his mouth. 

but the best you can get right now is sitting across all your colleagues, sipping on a cocktail whilst they laugh and enjoy themselves.

until nanami’s sitting right before you, getting away from his work “buddies” to finally relax in what seems to be his happy place. you can’t help but stop drinking, your eyes glued right on how he fixes to untighten his tie a bit. thick and nice arms revealed when he scrunches his blue sleeves up. the golden hair of his forearm makes your mouth dry enough for you to start sipping again.

your dummy brain resorts to more, harder alcohol to ease the anxiety, or lust, in your body. the way he just unfolds on the velvet furniture is enough to make you throb dully. asking the server for another drink while sitting back, his meaty thighs perfectly molded by his khakis. 

poor you, all drunk for nothing. nothing but to stare at just how sexy he is. you could’ve made a move on his tipsy self now that you had the confidence. woozy confidence that could be ignored the monday after if it didn’t go right—but it’s too late. you might as well just call a friend to come and pick your-drunk-for-nothing-self. 

you wobble to the exit, holding onto any spiraling furniture or fixture you can get a hold of. at least you got a good look at him, was it worth the expensive drinks? is it worth the hangover tomorrow morning? whatever, you’re going. leaving and flopping onto bed with your slippery cunt and dull heart. 

“hey, hon. leaving so soon?” thick whiskey from a pristine mouth. sharp and tall, somehow you’re standing right beside nanami without seeing him even get up.

calling you hon, leaning against the burgundy painted walls and obviously tipsy. 

“mmh, don’t know, i guess i…jus’ got bored.” you clutch your purse and lean on the wall out of clumsiness. 

“bored, hmm? new and nobody’s bothered you, yet?” he chuckles and you swear it feels like you’ve taken another shot. “lucky girl.” 

he gets closer to you, “you weren’t going to drive all by yourself, yeah? here, how about you stay for a little longer and i promise you won’t be bored.” hefty fingers coming by your face to twirl your hair. he’s drunk, god knows how many cups it took but even then, he’s much more tolerant than you. you can’t object, and why would you? he’s the perfect man at not such a perfect time but when else would this happen? nodding with a dazed expression, he just leads you.

big arm guiding you with his palm on the small of your back. his heat and touch getting to you. you lean into it so hard that when he’s got you pushed up to the powder table of a single women’s bathroom, you don’t notice until he’s going back to lock the door. 

you sit in a small, little, glazed wooden space with a mirror behind you, crammed in slightly. a sudden throb to the side of your skull as he walks back up to you, the alcohol hitting back at you with waves of headaches causing you to moan and whine. 

“hey, hey–shh, nanami’s gonna make it all better, okay?” slurring his words slightly, possibly getting drunk off of you. pretty, new girl all to himself, finally. even if you are half gone, with your squinting, tired eyes and whines. 

he runs his hands all over you, drunk and lustful eyes watching every wince and twitch that your heightened body makes, throwing your head back when he thumbs at your clothed pussy, your skirt pushed up. slowly undressing you; your tits exposed with hastily unbuttoned buttons and a rip of the middle of your bra. your skirt pushed past your pelvis to tear your little panties off. contorting your smaller body to rest your limp legs up so he can have his way with you. 

“mmmpgh—augh, please. fuck, ohh!—” your back arching when he wiggles his hips to meet yours. nanami’s cock, much bigger than you ever imagined, burying inside of your little cunt. 

“just take it, baby. mhmm, let it happen.” he coos at you, a much bigger difference considering how he’s fucking himself into you throughly. your head spins at the impact, unable to even understand what’s going on around you but holy shit does it feel good. the way his cock is completely hugged by your pussy, throbbing around him while spilling arousal down your ass to the marbled floor. 

you feel an instant yet hidden orgasm come on when he tells you just how much he’s been waiting for this. for a time where he can take you out of nowhere, where you’re so pliable and perfect just for him. he knows you're a good girl, just for him. all for him. and maybe you’d be an even better girl for him by letting him come right inside you. deep enough where you couldn’t possibly finger his seed out even if you tried. maybe he could finally get you out of this boring job and take care of you for good! ^o^

[binisainz]

lucky taps ⸻ 𐙚 ⸻ carlos sainz x reader

word  count.   2.8k feat.   established  relationship,  fluff,  semi-long  distance,  labubu  hate author's  note.   binisainz  finally  having  a  cs55  fic  up  ??  i  never  thought  i'd  live  to  see  the  day  !!  anyways,  this  is  based  on  this  photo  of  carlos  carrying  a  popmart  bag  in  shanghai  and  i  was  like.  ok  bet.  i  am  exposing  my  love  for  popmart  blind  box  figurines…  i  have  spent  too  much  on  these  mfs  so  i  might  as  well  make  a  fic  out  of  it  !!  dedicated  to  the  lovely  kae  ( @tsunodaradio  ) because  they  suggested  the  ending  and  i  was  like…  no  ure  right  …  ure  so  right  . anyway qotd what do u think carlos sainz is collecting check out the rest of my work !!

carlos comes home the same way he always does— keys clattering into the dish by the front door, a deep sigh like he’s clocking out of being carlos sainz and back into being just yours.

“mi amor?” his voice drifts in, laced with just the slightest bit of confusion.

“yes?” you don’t look up from your phone, lazily stretched out on the couch, one leg bent at the knee, fingers absently tapping at the screen.

you hear him step closer, the shift of his weight across the hardwood, the quiet pause that comes before— “why is there a little… scarecrow on the coffee table?”

that makes you glance up, just in time to see the small furrow in his brow, the way his mouth presses slightly at the corners. you shift, propping yourself up on your elbow to follow his gaze.

“that’s my hirono,” you say simply, as if that explains everything.

carlos blinks at you, then at the figurine, then back at you again. “your what?” he asks as he bends down, takes the figurine in his hands, turning it over carefully, examining the details. he treats it like something delicate, like maybe it’ll break if he looks at it too hard.

“hirono,” you repeat, dragging out the syllables, already predicting the conversation to come. “it’s a blind box figurine. you buy it without knowing which one you’re gonna get.”

his brows draw together, deeper this time, the gears in his head visibly turning. you can see the exact moment it clicks— there’s a small flash of realization, the barest twitch of his lips. “so you just… pay for it and hope you get the one you want?” he asks, skeptical.

you grin, shrugging. “pretty much.”

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he sets the figurine back down with the same measured care. “you could just buy the one you want,” he points out, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“where’s the fun in that?” you shoot back, sitting up fully now, tucking your legs beneath you. “it’s about the thrill. the suspense.”

he looks at you, the soft tilt of his head betraying the fact that he’s still trying to wrap his head around it. “so you like not knowing?”

you hum, considering. “more like… i like the moment before, you know? when it could be anything.”

carlos watches you for a beat longer, then shakes his head again, a small, affectionate smile tugging at his lips. “you are impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no real exasperation in his tone, only fondness. then, without hesitation, he leans down, cupping your jaw gently as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, as he’s done a thousand times before.

a few days later, you come home with two more boxes, setting them down on the kitchen counter with a flourish. carlos, sitting at the island with a half-eaten banana in one hand, eyes them with mild suspicion.

“again?”

you huff. “yes, again. but this time, you’re doing it with me.”

he chews slowly, watching you like you’ve just presented him with some grand experiment. then he swallows, licking a bit of banana off his thumb. “what am i supposed to do?”

“first,” you say, grabbing a box, turning it to its side where twelve colorful iterations of the same character are drawn, “we have to pick which ones we want.” you tap one illustration, and then the next. “i want the mantel clock or the circus one.”

he barely glances at the options before pointing decisively at the secret figurine.

you snort. “that one has, like, a one in a hundred forty-four chance.”

he shrugs. “so?”

so, nothing. he’s already made up his mind. and you know him— you know he’s stubborn enough to manifest his own luck, to tilt the universe in his favor through sheer force of will.

“okay, but now we have to do lucky taps,” you say, passing him his box.

his brows furrow. “what?”

you demonstrate, tapping your fingers rhythmically along the sides of your own box. “it’s for good luck. you have to do it.”

carlos stares at you for a moment, unimpressed, then down at his box. he exhales, then mimics your movement, albeit a little clumsily, his fingertips drumming against the cardboard. “this is silly.”

“yeah, but now you’re invested. committed, even.”

you grab your phone, setting it up to record. “okay, let’s do this.”

the sound of crinkling plastic fills the space as you both peel open your boxes. you pull yours out first. a tiny alien stares back at you. your face immediately drops.

“ugh,” you groan, sagging against the counter. “literally the only one i didn’t want.”

carlos makes a sound, half-laugh, half-smug amusement, as he inspects his own. you glance at him, then do a double-take.

he’s holding the secret figurine.

you jaw drops, eyes quickly darting from looking at him, at it, at him again. “are you kidding me?”

his expression shifts slowly into that familiar smugness, the kind that makes you want to shove him. he inspects the figurine like it’s some grand prize, turning it between his fingers, lips curving into a grin. “i thought this was supposed to be rare,” he says, all false innocence.

“it is,” you grumble, crossing your arms. “but of course you would get it.”

carlos sets his box down on the counter, hand reaching out to pull you closer. “mi amor,” he murmurs, his voice dipping just enough to make something curl in your stomach. his hands find your waist, fingers pressing lightly, teasing. “don’t be upset.”

“i’m not upset,” you huff, but you are pouting, and you know it, and he knows it, and he’s enjoying this far too much.

“you can have it,” he offers. “would that make you feel better?”

you exhale, slow, exaggerated. “it’s not as good as pulling it myself,” you admit, just a little petulant, but then you soften, leaning into him despite yourself. “…but okay.”

he laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple, and just like that, the loss doesn’t sting quite as much.

at first, it’s funny. cute, even. carlos, for all his teasing, starts showing a little too much interest in your blind boxes. it begins small—offhand questions here and there, the way he lingers just a second longer when you’re opening a new one, watching your reaction like he’s pretending not to care. but then it escalates.

he gets way too into it. concerningly into it.

it’s not long before you catch him scrolling through an online store at breakfast, staring at the thumbnail images of different collections with a furrowed brow like he’s analyzing race data. another time, you hear him mutter something about “box weight ratios” under his breath while holding one up at a shop.

the moment you call him out, he waves it off, says he’s just doing it for you. “you like them, no?” he says, kissing the side of your head like that’s the end of the conversation. “i just want you to get the ones you like.”

except, somehow, the ones you like aren’t the only ones he’s getting.

the 2025 season starts, and it doesn’t take long for fans to catch on. one race weekend, he’s photographed carrying a popmart bag in the hotel lobby. the next, someone spots him in the paddock, a tiny figurine peeking out from his backpack. the internet is quick— memes start to circulate, threads pop up analyzing every single one of his figurine choices. he keeps claiming it’s for you. he really does. but you know better.

“mi amor,” he complains one night, sprawled out on the hotel couch beside you, scrolling through a list of upcoming releases. it’s one of the rare times you join him for a grand prix. “all your hironos look the same.”

you gasp, smacking his arm. “excuse me?”

“they do,” he insists, grinning when you glare at him. “little hats, little sad faces… no difference.”

you roll your eyes. “okay, mister ‘i only buy these for you.’”

he huffs out a laugh, still very much pretending he’s doing this entirely out of love for you. but you bide your time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

and it comes, two weeks later, when he’s japan, and you’re on a late-night video call together. he’s lounging in his hotel room, hair still damp from a shower, dressed in one of his old team shirts. you’re curled up in bed, listening to him ramble about his day when something on his bedside table catches your attention.

a fucking labubu box.

your eyes narrow. “oh, so you say my hironos all look the same, but you like labubus now?”

carlos freezes, eyes darting to the box behind him like he forgot it was even there. then, without missing a beat, he leans forward, grabbing it and holding it up to the camera. “but, mi amor, look! they have different colors!”

“oh, and my hironos don’t?”

he shakes his head, clearly enjoying himself. “not like these, no.”

you let out an exaggerated, scandalized gasp, dramatically flopping back against your pillows. “i can’t believe this betrayal. all this time, i thought you were supporting me, but now you’ve chosen a side— and it’s the opposing side, mind you!”

carlos chuckles, setting the box back down, his voice dropping just slightly—playful, teasing. “you love me anyway.”

and, well. he’s right.

it turns into a thing. somehow.

your comments section floods with people asking for your favorite figurines, demanding to know which sets you’re into. you give them a list, thinking nothing of it, just casually mentioning your favorites. but by the next race weekend, fans are already showing up with those exact figurines, handing them to carlos at every turn. multiple people. at different times.

there’s a video you find later of him grinning, holding up one of the boxes, murmuring a— “thank you! mi corazón would love these…”

the last part, the way his voice drops into something softer, something warm, plays on loop in your head as you scroll through tiktok later that night. you hover over the like button for half a second before giving in, adding a comment:

yourusername   i do like it! please make sure he doesn’t hog it all to himself 😀

the internet, as per usual, goes crazy.

carlos is in miami, and you’re in monaco, which means the time zone gods are, once again, are against you. it’s late— too late— but your phone rings anyway, and you already know what this is about before you even pick up.

you rub at your eyes, propping your phone up on the pillow as carlos holds up his latest haul to the camera, grinning. “look, mi amor,” he says, adjusting the lighting so you can properly see. “i found peach riot!”

you squint. “you don’t even like peach riot.”

he waves you off. “sí, sí, but they had them at the store, and i had to try.”

you groan, shifting deeper under the covers. you know exactly what this is. it’s not about the figurines, not really—it’s about the thrill, the rush of unboxing something, the chase for the rarest one.

carlos digs through the bag, holding up a single box. “okay, i’ll open just one.”

you sigh, heavy with sleep. “baby, it’s almost 2 a.m. for me. can you please just open it?”

he gasps, offended. “well, no! i have to do lucky taps first!”

of course he does. he’s fully committed now.

you watch, exasperated but endeared, as he taps the sides of the box in that almost ritualistic way you taught him— except he’s exaggerating it, dragging his fingertips along the sides with a level of precision that is, quite frankly, unnecessary. he’s doing too much. and yet, you can’t bring yourself to stop him, a soft, tired smile on your lips.

“okay, okay,” he murmurs, hyping himself up before finally peeling off the plastic wrap and tearing the foil packet open. you blink, barely able to keep your eyes open, as he peers inside. his expression shifts—eyebrows jumping, mouth parting slightly before curling into an all-too-smug grin.

he flips the figurine around to show you. the secret. your smile immediately drops.

you let out a long, suffering groan before immediately hanging up the call.

curse you, boyfriend luck!

he calls back not even a minute later.

you answer, squinting at him through the screen, still burrowed under your blanket. carlos, barely holding back laughter, holds up the figurine again. “corazón,” he coos, all sweet and coaxing. “do you want it?”

you glare. “it’s not the same if i don’t pull it myself.”

he pouts, tilting his head. “but i’ll give it to you.”

you bury your face into your pillow, groaning again.

monaco feels different when carlos is home. the apartment, normally so quiet when he's away, hums with the warmth of him— his shoes by the door, his jacket slung carelessly over the couch, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air. it’s a race weekend, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re both in the same city again.

it also means carlos is finally seeing, with his own eyes, just how out of hand things have gotten.

a small corner of the living room— what used to be an empty space, clean and minimalist— is now home to a shelf. a full - on shelf. dedicated entirely to the growing collection of figurines you and carlos have amassed over the past few months. rows and rows and rows of figurines now meticulously arranged by series.

you stare at it, arms crossed, lips pursed. carlos, standing beside you, mirrors your stance, rubbing his chin like he’s assessing a piece of fine art.

a long silence stretches between you before you finally say it: “…are we addicted?”

carlos tilts his head, considering. then, without missing a beat— “no.”

you shoot him a look.

he grins. “just committed.”

the blind box obsession wanes, thankfully, though it's not out of disinterest but out of practicality. the season is in full throttle now, the races stacking up one after another, and you’ve been following carlos around the last few stops, which means any new purchases would just be another thing to stuff into an already overpacked suitcase. there’s no time to carefully stack boxes into the shelf back home.

which is why, when you open your eyes on your birthday in your las vegas hotel suite and find a blind box set sitting in front of you, you burst out laughing.

carlos, kneeling in front of you on the couch, looks incredibly pleased with himself. “feliz cumpleaños, mi amor,” he says, watching you with that warm, expectant gaze of his.

“oh my god,” you breathe out, picking up the box, flipping it over in your hands. “carlos.”

it’s not just any blind box set. it’s custom. you look at the packaging, the familiar yet unfamiliar design, and then you see it—your name, carlos’ name, and little illustrated versions of you both printed on the side, mimicking the style of an official collection.

upon closer inspection, the potential figurines include versions of you in your favorite outfits, carlos in his williams race suit, casual wear, even one of him holding a miniature trophy from when he finished p1 in barcelona. there’s even a secret edition, blurred out in a question mark like a real chase figurine.

you blink at it, overwhelmed, before looking up at him. “you got us made into blind boxes?”

carlos grins.

“how?”

“i have my ways.” he shrugs.

“you have a full racing calendar.”

he shrugs, like organizing a fully custom blind box production in the middle of a title fight is just a casual side project. “i planned ahead.”

you shake your head, flipping the box around in disbelief. “you’re actually insane.”

“open one.”

you tear into the packaging, ripping the foil open with probably more force than necessary. the little figurine falls into your palm, and when you turn it over, you nearly lose it. it’s you, down to the details of the outfit you wore the first time carlos ever took you to the paddock, your hair styled just right, the tiny features painstakingly accurate, even if it's just a stylized version of you.

you stare at it, and carlos leans in, nudging your shoulder. “cute, no?”

“carlos.”

“hmm?”

you exhale, shaking your head, but you can’t stop smiling. “this is insane.”

he leans back against the couch, smug. “you love it.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “don’t act like you didn’t make yourself the secret edition.”

his expression doesn’t change. “i am a rare find.”

you shove him, and he laughs, catching your wrist, tugging you into him. “okay, okay,” he concedes, pressing a kiss to your temple, his voice softer now. “but i wanted to give you something special. something just for you.”

you glance down at the box, the tiny, perfect versions of you both, and something warm settles in your chest. you shake your head, exhaling through a smile. “you really are addicted.”

carlos grins, tilting his head. you’re already leaning in, just slightly, like he’s some gravitational pull you’ve long since stopped resisting.

 he meets you halfway, his breath fanning against your lips as he murmurs— soft, smug, as he goes: “eh, just committed.”

[everlastingserenitys]

SWEET MESS

summ. you accidentally downed some aphrodisiacs that Luke and Kieran bought, now sylus had to deal with you for the night.

pairing sylus x f!reader cw. masturbation, handjob, gentle sylus, aphrodisiacs, mutual masturbation, fingering a/n. officially reposted all my works from the ongoing series.. more coming soon. <33

cross-posted from ao3 ;3

“Sylus? Oh.”

You stop in your tracks, as you meant to walk into the kitchen to ask Sylus for some food, instead of Sylus being there, Luke and Kieran were sitting at the counter talking with each other as they drank some drinks.

“Hey, where's Sylus?” you ask, as you make your way to the fridge.

“Uh, boss? Not sure.” Luke mutters, his fingers resting on his chin as he tries to figure out when he last saw Sylus. But you just shook your head and flung open the fridge door.

“Hm…” your eyes scan the fridge, trying to find something appetizing. You were craving for something sweet, maybe just maybe––Oh!

Perfect.

You grab the box of chocolates sitting on the bottom shelf of the fridge and open up the box without reading anything. The chocolates were tiny balls and it didn't seem bad to grab more than one…

So you grab a handful and throw them in your mouth.

But, shit. These chocolates were too good.

Handful after handful, you end up almost devouring the whole box. But before you could get one more round of chocolates the sound of Luke’s voice snapped you out of daze. The box falls from your hand and falls to the ground.

“Are you crazy?!” Luke warned, flipping you over, his eyes stare down at your chocolate stuffed mouth. You raise an eyebrow and swallow the last pieces of chocolate remaining in your mouth.

“What's wrong?” you ask, slightly concerned.

Luke glanced at Kieran and stepped away, “those chocolates…They were not something you’re supposed to eat large amounts of.”

“Huh?”

“Listen, boss asked us to buy these for you… for later i guess, but you weren't supposed to eat them now! So I think you should go to your room and we will send boss to you soon, okay?”

You look at him with a confused look and either way, still listen and head to your room.

It's not like you were hungry anymore.

-

Well, fuck.

You might as well be a little more hungry than before.

Twenty minutes had already passed and you were rocking back and forth on your bed, your body was heating up and you felt a weird tingling sensation all over you. But your fingers couldn’t control themselves anymore.

A shaky sigh left your lips and you leaned against the bed.

Where the fuck was Sylus at?

A desperate whine left your lips and you slipped a finger under your shorts. Your cold fingertips brush against your twitchy clit and you rub small circles against it.

Since when did it feel this good?

Going slowly wasn’t doing it for you anymore. You slide two fingers in your soaking cunt and you rapidly stroke yourself. You bit on the hem of your shirt as your movements on your fingers quickened, desperately seeking for release.

With the curl of your fingers, a wave of pleasure sparked through your body and a groveling moan escaped your lips when you reached climax. You pull your fingers away and stare at the mess coated on your fingers.

You needed more.

Where. Was. Syl–

Two knocks were heard from your bedroom door and you hopped off your bed, rushing towards the door to open it.

You opened the door in a swift movement and almost fainted at the sight of Sylus in front of you. Sylus looked down at you, his gaze filled with a little concern and curiosity.

He eyes down your messy outfit and walks himself in your bedroom, shutting the door behind him. When the door closed shut you look up at Sylus with teary eyes and step closer towards him.

Sylus wraps his arms around you and pulls you towards him.

“Luke told me what happened, why didn't you just read the box before eating the chocolate?” Sylus lectured. But you were too much in a horny daze to even answer that question, all you needed was him.

“I dont…please…do something?” you whine, rocking yourself against him. Sylus sighed and pulled you away from him. His large arms wrap around you and he effortlessly carries you to your bed, carefully placing you on it.

“If you were hungry you could have just called me?” Sylus coos, his fingers trailing down your thighs as he continued to look down at you with his glowy ruby eyes.

“I did! You w-werent in the kitchen..ngh”

“You have a phone for a reason sweetie, I would've picked it up if you called.” Sylus said, calmly, way too calmly. His fingers reach your twitchy soaking pussy and he slid one of his fingers in. You let out a whine and thrust yourself in his fingers.

“M-more..”

A chuckle left Sylus’ lips and he slipped another finger in you. You rock yourself against him and lift yourself so that you are sitting up, facing him. Your fingers grab onto his arms as you pull yourself closer to him.

Your fingers slide down his muscular arms and you press against his boner, slowly rubbing on it in an indescribable pattern. Sylus’ breath hitched and he pressed himself closer to you, quickening his movements in your cunt.

“Please, Sy.” you moan, sliding your finger under his shorts.

“Whatever makes you feel better.” he groaned, bucking his hips up and letting you slip his pants off. His leaking boxers were on display for you and you pulled his boxers down, letting his searing cock spring out.

Your warm fingers wrap around his cock, and you stroke slow, deliberate movements on it.

Both yours and Sylus’ moans grew louder in the room, and the sounds of both you touching each other was turning you on even more. You wrap another hand around his cock and quicken the pace on him.

“Sweetie, calm down. We have…ngh...all night.” he moaned. But when you weren't listening to him and went even faster on his cock, Sylus curled his fingers inside you and warned you again.

“Please.. 'm gonna cum!” you wailed, thrusting yourself in him one more time, and the last final thrust both you and Sylus came in sync.

“Feel better?”

No, you weren’t feeling better, in fact, that made you even more horny and…

“More, please.”

part 6 of untamed desires | sylus -> next work

[kortac-sweetheart]

cuddle hcs w/ my fave cod men (୨୧ᵕ̤ᴗᵕ̤)

(also ranked from best to “worst” cuddler)

best cuddler around:

ok now hear me out, i think nikto and velikan would be tied for best cuddler.

they don’t move at all, whatever position you want to cuddle in will be the way they stay all night. (unless you want to change cuddle positions, then they might grumble the tiniest bit before moving.

their bodies are also very warm and sturdy, perfect to be held and perfect to hold you as well.

nikto’s favorite cuddle position is when you’re facing each other, your head resting on his bicep and chest to chest, legs intertwined. they like holding you close, like a teddy bear, it makes them feel grounded; assured that you’re real and you’re there with them.

he’s so warm that you could forgo a blanket entirely, warmed only by his body heat but nikto won’t allow it. constantly pulling the covers up to your chin, fussing quietly over you. just let them take care of you, ok?

velikan’s favorite cuddle position is whatever your favorite is. although he’s slightly partial to you laying entirely on top of him like he’s the bed. don’t worry, he can handle it. in fact, it’s like a weighted blanket, it grounds his mind and his body and it lets him relax, knowing you’re so close to him, basically face to face.

he’s also built like a heater too, so it’s like lying on a warm electric bed or something, except it’s holding you tightly too. he’s also another one that makes sure you’re under the blankets, your chest may be warm but your back is getting cold, honey.

(if it wasn’t a huge hassle he’d let you spin around on top of him like a rotisserie chicken to make sure all of you is warmed up, but alas.)

second best cuddler is… roach!

his new call sign should be cuddlebug instead of roach with how much you two cuddle. he’s down to cuddle, wherever, whenever. he’s perfectly warm and soft to hold, like your personal teddy bear, and you’re his.

loves any positions that’s face to face, laying down is fine and you sitting in his lap or his in yours is great too. he just wants to be able to see your cute face grow sleepier and sleepier until eventually you two fall asleep in each others arms.

cuddles are always filled with little giggles, small and lighthearted jokes between you two, gentle nose boops and squeezing each other in tight hugs. they’re tooth achingly sweet and you’re always told to “get a room!” if anyone catches you two cuddling on base.

next best cuddler is keegan!

another one that’s always down to cuddle but in a more, casual, manner than roach. will see you standing or sitting somewhere and he’ll rock up behind you to gently pull you into his chest and arms. he’s very observant and in tune with you (thanks to his sniping skills) so he knows when you’re feeling down, don’t even try to hide it, sugar.

so he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms, gently swaying with you if you’re standing, and squeezing you if you’re laying. he doesn’t say much, just allows the both of you to relax in each other’s company in silence. (he doesn’t move at all either, sniper skills coming in clutch again.)

that’s why his favorite position is being the big spoon. it’s simple, it’s easy and it lets him hold you tightly, what’s not to love? his body and yours fits together like two puzzle pieces, meant to be together, like this.

ghost is almost tied with keegan, but keegan is slightly better

simon is like keegan in which he’s very observant and in tune with you but it’s harder for him to jump over the hurdle of intimacy. he wants to comfort and hold you, but he gets inside of his head sometimes, and it physically locks up his body.

most days he triumphs over the hurdle, and other days he falls flat on his face over it. but those days he’s able to hold you are some of the best, he pulls you close into his chest, rubbing a large palm up and down your back. he knows you like the low gravelly tone of his voice and the way his chest rumbles and so he yaps, just for you, about anything and everything (except for work).

but other days, he’s unable to comfort you unless you come to him first or johnny gives him a shove towards you (quite literally actually), and he’s suddenly able to move again. quickly wrapping his arms around you, squeezing tightly as if you’d slip away, ephemeral.

as stated before, his fave position is you tucked closely to his chest, his arms wrapped around you, and legs intertwined too for good measure.

and right behind simon is johnny!

it’s not like he’s a bad cuddler necessarily it’s just that he moves a lot. (and he gets a little handsy with you too) if he’s not tired out already then you will be switching cuddling positions every 15 minutes, i’m sorry it’s just how it is with him. (his favorite position is holding you entirely on one arm while he walks around doing things lol)

he’s itching to move even just a little bit and so he’s always rolling over (with you in his arms too mind you). that’s why it’s best to cuddle him right after he comes back from deployment. he’s too tired to move at all, so he just lays there on the bed, basically boneless and you can cuddle up to him all you want without him moving.

if he falls asleep in post-deployment cuddles then you’re not moving until he wakes up again, that’s also just how it is with him. you’re gonna be trapped in his solid arms for a good few hours, and this time he’ll grumble when you try and move. hope you went to the bathroom before this because sorry bonnie, you’re not going anywhere.

krueger is tied with johnny tbh

he’s a man of two extremes when it comes to cuddling, either he’s unable to stop moving around or he’s cuddling you like a python. and you never know what mode he’s in that day until you’re in bed and cuddling with him.

on days he can’t stop moving, muscles restless, he’s dragging you around with him wherever he goes. it’s a common sight to see you perched on an arm or his back as he goes about his business. (no one ever dares mention it to him either, they’d like their sternum intact thank you very much)

he likes the feeling of your weight on him, a constant reminder that you’re safe, with him, and not to mention you’re so nice to hold. so soft and warm, perfect to hug..

and that’s when he shifts into python mode. running (yes running) back to your or his room, whichever is closer, and delicately laying you down on the bed. he then wraps himself around you, arms AND legs holding you against him, and no you can’t move. at all.

he will complain if you move around, just tell him that you need to get comfy and he’ll loosen just the tiniest bit, allowing you to turn around and face him instead before his limbs clamp down on you again.

he’s surprisingly… cold to the touch, and it always gives you a little shock to touch his skin (much to his amusement), it only makes him hold you closer. you’re his personal heater now, so quit moving schatzi and let him warm up (for a few hours.)

konig and oni are tied for… mediocre cuddlers..

they’re both very stiff cuddlers, it’s like cuddling a wooden plank.

konig is very, very not used to cuddling anybody. this is extremely unknown territory for him and so he just. doesn’t know what to do with his limbs. you practically have to maneuver his arms and legs to wrap around you, yourself. only then when you’ve settled into his arms it’s when he then relaxes. eases his arms around you, but he doesn’t hold you tightly, more akin to cupping a delicate flower in his hands, afraid to accidentally hurt you. if you want him to hold you tighter you’re gonna have to speak up or move him yourself.

that’s why konig likes being the little spoon better. he doesn’t have to be stiff in holding you, and it makes him feel good to be “small” sometimes. to be pampered and cared for, it’s something entirely unknown but it makes him happy, safe in your arms.

oni is also like konig in which he has never ever cuddled or been cuddled in his entire life. he hasn’t done anything romantic in his life actually, so this is all very new to him. the first few times you try and cuddle with him he’s really stiff. unsure where to put his arms and he’s just super tense underneath you. it’s better if you curl up into his side like a cat and wait for him to move to hold you.

he gets the hang of it quickly, liking it more than he thought he would. it’s nice, not to think about anything but you in his arms. focusing on the way your dreamy face twitches in sleep, your steady breaths, your consistent heartbeats, and it lulls him to sleep too.

he likes it, you curl up into him first and he follows suit, sleeping and cuddling face to face.

horangi… horangi is the worst cuddler, sorry

horangi cannot stay still to save his life. his muscles and mind are always itching to do something, anything.

you manage to get him on the bed and he’s already moving to do something, asking you if you needed anything while he’s up. if you really want to cuddle this man you can’t let up you’re gonna have to throw him on the bed and lay your entire body weight on him to make him stay, and even then that’s a struggle.

it’s better to come to a compromise between the two of you instead. he physically cannot lay down to cuddle but you want to be held and so he (just like johnny) holds you in one arm while he does things around base/home. holding you above his hip in one arm like a baby (you’re his baby) while he’s walking around. or hell, he doesn’t mind giving you a piggyback ride either, you get to hold him and he gets to do things, win-win!

[althedasworld]

I installed Critter Cove three days ago and since then I have put in a little under 30 hours.

I could not have found this game at a better time as my 16-year-old kitty Morgan died recently and I needed something immersive to distract me from my grief.

She kept me alive when suicidal, her company kept me sane throughout loneliness and despair and she made me smile and feel grateful for life.

I've been able to recreate Morgan (no tortie color pattern, but a calico is passable) and taken her on adventures, built and repaired the town, made friends and scavenged for treasures. It might be an odd way of grieving, but it somehow helps now she isn't lying next to me or on my lap anymore.

What's the game like?

Gameplay: Think Stardew Valley/Animal Crossing/My Time in Portia/Subnautica, MtiP being the closest match with its bright and cheerful take on a post-apocalyptic world, littered with old trash which you gather and use for crafting and relics from the ancient times you display in a museum. There is displayable Easter egg-type objects hidden around the map, something I'm always a sucker for 😅

It´s a kid friendly single player game and you own it fully when bought, no micro transactions and so far no DLC.

The story is the classic moving to an empty, worn-down town and then repairing and building it back up, while exploring, crafting, making new friends and gathering/foraging.

You can´t die, you simply pass out and wake up with low health in a safe place nearby.

The quests encourage exploration and teach the game mechanics fairly well. I hope to learn more about Captain Anchor and the other characters, but at this point it's mostly crafting and fetch quests as well as a few treasure hunts. This doesn't faze me or diminish my love for this adorable and beautiful game. Again, it's Early Access, there'll be more to come back to in a year or two. I'll replay it for certain.

Combat: It has no combat, not even hunting as meat is grown on plants.

Fishing: The fishing mechanics are simple, you just click once when the fish bites (which is very clear) and the character does the rest. You don't have to spend ages waiting for fish to bite, something always bites. Lures and locations determine what you may catch.

Gathering: Intuitive, fast and easy. Blueprints are gradually learned as you dismantle the devices you find and your progress is shown as you do it and recorded in your journal.

About 70% of your gathering will take place underwater. This made me nervous, but I learned that you cannot die and simply wake up floating on the surface and that fixed it for me.

Something about gathering makes the monkey part of my brain go completely ballistic. Spotting a tuft of grass when low on fiber or that last popcorn stand needed to unlock the blueprint is an instant dopamine rush and a very large part of why I play these games.

Crafting is relatively intuitive if you're familiar with this genre, starting with simple stuff crafted by hand, then moving up to different crafting stations etc. Even the handcrafted items keep being relevant and I haven't noticed any stations or resources becoming obsolete as I progressed. It was actually the opposite as the higher tiers of planks builds off the lower, just with added resin. Which.. yeah, not a fan. Friggin resin.

There are two major resource bottlenecks I noticed: fiber and resin, resin being the worst. Fiber is found as small tufts of slim pale green grass or obtained as a byproduct from harvesting crops. Start up farming asap as you´ll need the fiber!

Resin is dropped when you chop up the dead trees lying about, though not every log will drop resin. Alternatively you'll have to craft it from oil and wood and until you meet Riggs, oil is rare. Buying it from the shop every day helps a bit.

Cooking: The cooking mechanics are a mix of SV and MtiP. You learn recipes by experimenting and when it results in something other than Slop, the recipe is recorded and can be scaled up according to the amount of ingredients you have. You do have to have the ingredients in you inventory afaik, which is annoying, but maybe I´m just spoiled by the crafting stations, who´ll just yank whatever they need from my trunks (trunks are btw interconnected and all are accessible from any one of them, because of Trunk-Space, presumably).

Hidden around the map are written clues to a few of the recipes, but it would be cool if you could get clues from conversations too.

You thankfully don't have to manually stir, add ingredients, chop etc like in Palia and MtiP. I enjoy cooking in Palia but it´s enjoyable because it´s co-op.

Visually: This game is gorgeous with vibrant colors, a cartoony art style, beautiful environments with alien plants and animals and the characters actually have some facial expressions and body language, something I've only seen in very few games of this genre to this day.

A few things I absolutely LOVED:

The regeneration of resources and salvage is from the tropical lightning storms sweeping the islands every so often, throwing up salvage, sinking ships (if you catch the ship before it sinks you might find a treasure chest) and stranding new characters for you to invite to your .

You do not get assigned a house. Bar shops and lighthouse, you can pick any home on the island and That. Is. Brilliant!

The town changes around you as the houses and shops are repaired and used by the NPCs and you can place most decorations anywhere on your island and the NPCs will interact with them! Both are features that I've wanted in other games and is deeply satisfying to experience.

My greatest gripes: 

I somehow ended up with 95% villagers of the jock persona before learning to tell the types apart. Since the persona decides what they like and where they will work, and you can't evict them once there, this is a real hassle.

The "tsundere-mean-girl personality" is not cute. It's not funny or endearing. I actively dislike those villagers and will avoid them.

The few treasure hunts I've had were ruined for me by the great big fluorescently green arrow pointing to where I was to dig.. Like, really? Seriously, guys? Sea of Thieves shows how to do treasure hunts beautifully, I hope the devs will look at them and adjust.

Afaik, no one lives in the lighthouse that I worked so hard to repair. That annoys me no end, but that might just be me being weird.

Repetitive music. It´s really good, don't get me wrong, but after 10 hours of the same two or three melodies I turned it off.

Last but not least: Let me pet the damned turtles!

I don't know if my gripes will be changed or tweaked later, the way all the other stuff I'm iffy about surely will: The bad clipping (islanders floating in the habour when they actually are on an island far away according to the game??) as well as the general lack of content after approx 25 hours play, you know, all regular normal Early Access stuff, but I haven’t seen any game breaking bugs at any point, and that is worth noting.

I love this game. I lived and breathed this game three days straight, to the point of a shoulder in so much pain from continual use of the mouse, I had to eat painkillers to be able to sleep. Then I woke up and did it again, because: worth it. I want to live in Critter Cove.

I found this game through a collaboration between Dinkum (Animal Crossing set in TotallyNotAustralia, with Minecraft graphics, I highly recommend it) and  Go-Go Town, because Go-Go Town and Critter Cove were sold as a package deal, and I had a bit of money to burn on games and needed something to distract me from my grief.

I hope you´ll at the very least take a look at the free demo with around two hours worth of play in it. It deserves it. Please support it´s devs <3

https://www.visitcrittercove.com/

This is unrelated to the blog's subject, but I'm SUPER hyped about this upcoming indie game called Critter Cove and I've got some super cool news; I got to give the devs some critter designs to show up as Townies you can invite to live in your town!

This isn't even all of them-- in total I've made well over 40 designs that they're gonna pick and choose from. These ones are just some of my favorites.

This character creator is CRAZY good. It's hard to find animals you can't make. Cow, squid, human, raptor, duck, I was even able to make a half-decent Anomalocaris up there. The ones that are difficult to make, like giraffes, horses, and insects, are actually planned to be added in soon.

Critter Cove plays like a mix between Animal Crossing and Subnautica. You sail around to collect scrap from the remains of sunken ruins, rebuild a rundown town on a polluted island, and make it appealing for both residents and visitors. There's also a plan to add a museum feature, dozens of islands, fishing mechanics, and even co-op in the future.

(but co-op will only come if the game's enough of a hit, which is why I'm shamelessly plugging it lmaoo)

It's launching into Early Access on September 10th, but it's got a VERY generous free demo which is only supposed to be "the first two hours" of the game...

...and I'm clocking 61.

(yes everyone this is part of the reason why ive been quiet lately. its a good game, man. i cant help it. im going coconuts.)

Progression stops when you re-build the cafe, but you can keep playing, sailing around, running quests, and doing some simple gardening. Your progress rolls over into Early Access too, so you don't have to worry about losing your townies, clothes, structures, etc.

For all my designs I've got a free key, but it's gonna be launching somewhere in the 20 - 30 USD price range. I can't recommend the demo enough, but even just wishlisting it on Steam boosts their metrics and gets them in front of more people!

[ghostgirl-22]

you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to but..

patrick spiking arts drink with like viagra or an aphrodisiac and then “helping him out” because he’s such a good friend <3

Oh but I want to!! <3

This is post Artrick and Patashi break up and Patrick and Art end up in Vegas at the same bachelor party for a high school friend. Maybe Art has it coming? Maybe Patrick is like the best friend he’s ever had <3

Heed all warnings cause Patrick is totally remorseless and unlike everyone who does something bad in those old black and white movies I’ve been watching lately, he absolutely gets away with it. Sorry not sorry!

CW: intoxication, secret drugging, cnc, dub con (in the sense that Art doesn’t have all the information, but he wants it, he told me). This is pretty much what it says in the ask. Obviously don’t read if this makes you uncomfortable. Not proofread.

—-

It’s bad and wrong, and wrong, and so fucking wrong.

Patrick might tell the truth later. Might let Art get back at him because even for him this is kinda fucked up. But to be fair, he only did it because he was horny. And maybe he wanted a little revenge.

It all started at the bachelor party. It’s the first time they’d seen each other since Tashi’s injury and everything. 

Both of them trying to put it all aside for their high school buddy Addison’s Vegas bachelor party. He’s hosting it with his husband to be…this older, rich tech company guy. Patrick thinks it’s a bit annoying. Even if he was gonna marry some dude he wouldn’t want the guy crashing his bachelor party— he should have his own and hang out with his own friends. but that’s beside the point. 

Patrick thought Art wouldn’t dare show up because Patrick was always closer with Addison. Art probably thought the same thing about him. And yet…surprise. 

Thankfully they barely have a minute alone together sober. Sober, Art is so cool. 

Cool. 

Cold. 

Icy, even. 

Totally Remorseless. They make small talk. He’s dating her now, the little shit. She’s coaching him. He’s playing Indian Wells in a few months. Patrick ponders hating Art. He doesn’t know if he’s quite there yet but it feels like he’s close. 

He still looks so pretty though. 

It’s a reunion of sorts. A lot of their old teammates came. Addison rented the penthouse suite in the Bellagio, private elevator, crazy views… fifteen guys… seven rooms, not that anyone plans to sleep.

Art and Patrick had been known to read each others minds in the past and it feels like that hasn’t changed. Apparently they’ve silently agreed that the last thing they want is people asking things like… “what the fuck happened? you two used to be so close.” Which is how they end up in this unspoken truce pretending like it’s all normal between them. All the way down to the expectation of them sharing a room. Which is fine because, again, no one is really planning on sleeping.

Everyone meets up in the afternoon and they start in the casino. Getting tipsy on watered down liquor while they all spend way too much money. All of them rich kids, or recovering rich kids. Patrick’s not using his parents money but he’s still reckless like he is, so certain he’s gonna make it all back on the craps table.  Art doesn’t gamble so Patrick decides to make him blow on his dice, as a joke the way girls do in movies. of course he wins it all back and quite a bit more on a real risky bet. It’s annoying in the way. He’s glad he won but it feels like it’s Art that can’t lose. Suddenly everyone at the table is asking him to bless their dice. Like he’s just so fucking lucky all the time. 

Patrick doesn’t push his own luck. Whatever the fuck is left of it.

The whole group cleans up and goes out to dinner in the evening. They catch up on their lives since school and tell silly, fun, embarrassing stories to Addison’s husband to be. Afterwords they go to a show. A magic show. Tipsy and cheering at the tricks like they’re back in 6th grade. It’s easy. It’s fun, actually. He barely has to be alone with Art.

By 11pm they’ve started bouncing around the strip from club to club. Bar to bar. Party to party. Mostly gay bars and drag shows which no one minds because honestly they all just love Addison so much. They’re getting properly drunk now. 

It’s then when Art begins getting attention on a level that even he’s not used to from all these really hot guys… that’s when everything gets messy. Drunk and flushed, Art has no idea how to receive any of it except to turn all his repressed homosexual energy back onto the safest target. Patrick.

“We’ll just pretend to be together, you know? So they stop…touching me.” He explains loudly in Patrick’s ear.

Patrick smiles, just about drunk enough to put up with this bullshit. “Okay…fine… whatever… fuck it.”

It doesn’t feel pretend though, especially when they end up soaking wet at this all night foam party just downstairs in their hotel. It’s way too late at night, so many guys jumping up and down all sweaty and hot. Boys kissing. Touching. Shirts unbuttoned, the music too loud, skin too soft. Art hanging all over him, so drunk they actually start grinding to the music. The bass competing with Patrick’s heartbeat for which can go faster.  Feelings so complicated Patrick might need 24 hours in the psych ward to sort it all out. 

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas right? 

Patrick needs a minute. He leaves Art alone, barely able to take anymore. He uses the excuse of needing the restroom. It’s not even a second before at least two guys are swooping in, competing to take his place, one of them their other teammate Lachlan who’s got a wife at home and a child on the way. 

God. 

Patrick needs another fucking drink. Addisons already at the bar and Patrick leans in next to him. 

“What’s that?” He asks Addison as he’s adding powder to his glass.

“It’s a magic pill,” Addison laughs.

”Magic?” Patrick hiccups. 

“Yeah like… like horny candy.” 

Patrick pouts, brows raised in confusion. maybe he’s a little too drunk for this game.

“Viagra. Sometimes i spike my boyfriend— my fiancés drink with it. See.” He holds up a little pill and crushes it under his glass on the bar

Patrick laughs. “Isn’t that kinda fucked up?”  

“Well…I mean… probably yes… but you know he’s older. So I feel like I’m doing this for his ego.” Addison explains.

“Hm,” Patrick ponders. “Have you ever tried it?”

“I’ve had a sip of his drink before when i didn’t want him to know i spiked it. We ended up going at it all fucking night.” Addison grins. “It’s not necessarily for guys our age…but there’s no harm in it as long as it doesn’t last more than four hours i guess. which is easy if you just fuck. Here. You can take one with your… boyfriend? girlfriend?”

the way Patrick feels right now, his dick is so hard he can’t even fathom the point of viagra but he lets Addison drop the pill in his hand anyway. who knows? He’ll be 24 in six months. A proper grown up. maybe his dick will be the next part of his body that will lose the will to live.

“Are you still bisexual Pat?” Addison leans in stroking Patrick’s bare chest. “Cause we’re kinda open and wouldn’t mind trying it with you tonight, and you know… the more the merrier if you want blondie to join us.”

They both glance at Art, dancing all drunk and unabashed between both guys. their hands all over his lithe figure while the speaker blares Bad Romance by Lady Gaga.  

Patrick rolls his eyes and looks back at Addison. “He may be a fucking tease but we both know he would never. But I think I need more to drink before I get back to you.”

“Well…You know where to find us… preferably before this kicks in!” Addison raises his glass. 

Patrick waves to the bartender, fingering the pill in his other hand. Then it sort of hits him like a ton of bricks. This nasty idea. More than a little fucked up. He almost wants to touch himself just thinking about it. 

He orders two drinks. Rum and coke. Nothing crazy different than what they’ve been drinking all night. Crushes the pill into dust under the cold glass and swirls his finger with the powder into the glass he wants to give to Art..

Oh he feels a little gross. Most people around him too drunk… the bartender too busy to notice what he’s doing. 

Art doesn’t think twice; he trusts Patrick so much. What a wonder to betray someone and still think you can trust them so completely. like none of it matters. Art let’s Patrick “save” him from the other boys touching him.

“I swear i feel like Lach was turned on,” he hiccups, swallowing the drink down. “Like I could feel his… you know what.” He continues in Patrick’s ear. 

”Really? Could you?” Patrick asks, dryly. Stupid. He still acts so… innocent oblivious. Patrick just wants to fuck shake him. He’s beyond hating Art. He doesn’t hate him. Could never hate him. He does hate that after all this fucking time he’s still not over him. 

It doesn’t take long for Art to feel it. He’s back to clinging to Patrick. All over him as a way to keep the other boys away. Patrick starts to notice him adjusting himself, getting breathy, getting anxious. Gripping a little too tightly.   

“Uh I need um…um…  is it too hot in here?” He says in Patrick’s ear. “I need water.” 

“What?” Patrick asks like he didn’t hear him. Keeps his body pressed close, hot breath in Patrick’s ear.

“The room… I think I need to go back to the room.” 

Patrick shrugs. They tell a couple of the guys they’re leaving. And of course get teased for being lightweights at 4 in the morning. Only in Vegas. 

Art has his eyes closed, knees knocked together, too drunk, so aroused. He’s resting the side of his head against the wall of the private elevator as they make their way up to penthouse.

”Sleepy?” Patrick asks, standing in his space. 

Art’s all glassy eyed, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide when he gazes at Patrick. “Um… yeah… yeah.” He stammers.  

Patrick smirks, tangles his fingers into Arts damp hair. He hums, eyes closed immediately, lips parted. And then the elevator dings and Patrick lets go. Arts eyes open and he stumbles out behind Patrick. 

In the room Art’s trying to hide it from Patrick. Trying to keep himself together. He drinks a lot of water from the mini fridge. Tries to go in the bathroom but Patirck gets there first. Not to pee or anything, he’s too fucking hard for that. Probably just to keep Art from jerking himself silly over the toilet. 

Patrick strips down to his boxers for sleep. Brushes his teeth in the mirror. The whole time he’s tenting, so ridiculously aroused, thinking of Art squirming, Viagra unknowingly coursing through his system. 

Patrick decides he’s probably not a good person but right now he doesn’t fucking care. 

He reaches inside his boxers to adjust himself before returning to the bedroom, but he has to touch himself just a little first. A few gentle jerks over the length of his dick and he’s catching his breath. He tucks himself up, snug against the waistband of his boxers and takes a few deep breaths. 

When he walks back in the bedroom, Art is sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand down his pants, tugging himself, little soft moans escaping his lips. He panics when he sees Patrick and tries to save face but it’s kinda too late. 

“Uh sorry… uh… it’s not—” 

“You like boys Art?” Patrick teases.

“No… I just… I think I’m overstimulated.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah I… I… it was a lot of touching. I was…” he takes a deep breath. “I mean I know I was a little bit um… turned on when they were…when the three of us were…when I could feel…” 

“When they had you sandwiched between them?”

”Fuck.” He whispers. “yeah a little…i guess more than I thought.” He admits. 

Patrick sits next to him on the bed. “Yeah me too.” He pads his palm over the outline of his own cock. 

Art staring, fingers gripping the sheets as he whispers a barely audible, “Jesus.”  

“We could… maybe… help each other out,” Patrick suggests.

Art looks up at his face, eyes narrowed.

”I mean nothing would change. It’d just be a one time favor between… old friends.”

Art looks down again, knee bouncing. Desperate enough to say: “Okay um…you mean like jerk off together? Like in high school?”

“Or…” Patrick gets on his knees on the floor in front him. 

“Patrick I—I’m not gonna do—“ he stammers. 

“I’m not asking you to… do you want me to do it to you or not?”

He takes a deep, shaky breath and then he nods.

Patrick moves between his thighs and tugs his zipper down further, eases his boxers down and hears Art let out a gentle gasp as his cock is released. Oh it’s painfully full. Poor thing he’s practically humping into Patrick’s mouth the moment he gets contact. 

“Mm, fuck,” Art sighs relieved to get the sensation. Patrick almost wants to touch himself. Can feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears while licking all along the base. Taking his time, swirling his tongue around the tip. He looks up at Art as he does it. He’s got his eyes closed, one hand holding himself upright on the bed and two fingers of his other hand shoved deep into his mouth as he moans around them. 

Oh. Right. Fucking oral fixation. Patrick’s drunk brain vaguely supplies. 

He’s distracted for a minute while kissing along the tip, licking, teasing, sucking and watching Art slide his fingers into and out of his mouth. Gorgeous little thing. 

Patrick severely underestimates how close he is.  And suddenly his face is getting painted with heated pearly liquid. “Oh.. ohfuckfuck’msorry… fuck.” Art groans around his fingers, hitching his hips involuntarily as more and more spurts out. 

Patrick opens his mouth and catches some on his tongue, he can’t help laughing a bit at how fucking crazy all of this is. On the floor of the penthouse suite at the Bellagio and he’s on his knees for his ex best friend who’s all drugged out on harddick medicine, and probably just gave him his first ever facial.

Patrick wipes a lot of it off on his arm and thumbs some of the excess off his cheek and nose, licking it into his mouth. “Well fuck.” He breathes. “You got a lot of that in you.” 

“Oh god…I didn’t mean to…Jesus, Pat look….” Art whines. Somehow he’s still almost as hard as he was before. 

Patrick runs his fingertips gently over the length, still spasming lightly. “You really had fun tonight huh?” 

“Oh fuck… this never… this never h-happens.” He stammers.  

“Really? You don’t get this turned on for women?”

Art presses his lips together, like he doesn’t want to admit to anything. He sits on his hands. “I um…” 

“Why don’t we try this,” Patrick says. “Don’t freak out…”  He goes to his travel bag for lube. 

“What—“ Art begins when he sees it. 

“I said relax,” Patrick says. 

Art leans back on his elbows as Patrick straddles him. “What are we doing?” 

“You already fucking jizzed in my face, just relax. You owe me this.” 

Art takes another shaky breath. Patrick covers his palm in lube and covers Art’s heavy, swollen cock. Art groans and shivers at the feel of it. So fucking sensitive. Patrick eases his own out and then takes them both in hand, lined up he starts jerking. Both of them moaning immediately, like a chorus, the sound filling up the room.

It’s sinful actually. The way it sounds. It’s probably something that would’ve made Art cry when he was 14 and so very afraid of drinking alcohol and swear words and sex before marriage. 

Now he’s moaning like a whore  around his fingertips, hips jerking up into Patrick’s fist, both of their cocks heated and swollen. Patrick is barely hanging on. He wonders if anyone else came home. If they can hear them fucking, neither of them holding back as Patrick moves faster and faster. 

Art falls apart seconds later, come coating Patrick’s palm, dripping between his fingers. and then Patrick’s following shortly after. Shooting spurts of come, aiming some at Art’s bare chest maybe as a little bit of payback. “Take them out of your mouth,” Patrick hisses. Art gazes up at him and slowly pulls his fingers out.   

Patrick pushes him all the way down on the bed and kisses him roughly. Art drawing his knees up, socked feet flat on the bed and arching into it. Tongues and spit everywhere. Patrick taking a minute to replace his lips on Art’s mouth with his come stained fingers. just to feel the eager way Art sucks them in, pulling hard with his tongue. If Art realizes he’s tasting himself, tasting Patrick, he isn’t complaining. 

Patrick pulls out, wet and sloppy and turns Art’s pretty face back into the kiss, deepening it till he’s moaning into Patrick’s mouth. Doing everything he can for more of the sensation. Grinding his hips up, his still heavy cock sliding along Patrick’s bottom. 

“Oh fuck,” Patrick groans because it’s still so hard. “You wanna fuck me?” 

“mm, my god,” is all Art can manage. 

“I won’t tell your girlfriend.” 

That draws him out of whatever messy trance he’s in and Art pulls away from Patrick, panting. “Oh god… why won’t it go away? ‘m is there something wrong with me?” He whines, suddenly teary eyed. 

“Like what?” Patrick asks, carefully. He doesn’t want to over do it.  

“I dunno… I dunno. I’m so… did i drink too much? I just… i just wanna… i feel so fucking horny…and I can’t calm down. I just… i wanna just… fuck. I’m… I’m so sorry, Patrick.”

Tired and drunk and overstimulated from all the sex he starts getting emotional. “I’m so sorry for everything. I think I love you. I think I’m fucking in love with you, Patrick. I think about you all the time when I’m fuck—”

”Okay shut the fuck up,” Patrick snaps gently, because the last thing he wants is to feel bad for him on a sentence like that. The last thing he wants is to spiral thinking about the two of them together getting everything they want without him. “You want my help?”

”Yes,” Art sniffles.   

“Here…” he hands Art the rest of the lube. “put this on and just… you can fuck me till you’re all fucked out. just imagine I’m a fucking fleshlight or something.” 

“Really?” He hiccups, and he looks so grateful like he’s gonna cry again. 

“Hey… come on, stop man. Just… I’m doing you a favor. Don’t fucking cry about it.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and wipes his nose on the back of his palm. “I’m sorry. you’re right. Thank you so much. I’m sorry.” 

Patrick rolls his eyes and settles onto the pillow. he’s going to hell probably. Art is so fucking drunk, thinks he’s just trying to come down from some normal night where he got too overwhelmed. He thinks Patrick is just being such a good friend. 

It’s so fucking messed up but honestly it also feels really fucking good. Covered in lube. His unbearably repressed ex best friends dick, the same dick he’s been dreaming about since the first time he saw it. That pretty dick pumping in and out of him over and over again. 

“And don’t worry,” he whispers to Art. “it’s not even gay” because Patrick is just helping him relax. “It’s not even real sex I promise.” Even though Patrick can’t count how many times Art comes. Maybe 4, maybe 7. How many times Patrick’s nutted all over the pristine hotel sheets. He knows he’s managed to spill at least 3 times before Art is finally done, done. And Patrick is covered in his come and sweat and spit and tears he couldn’t be happier.

Art nearly wets himself in his rush to get to the bathroom after it all. Probably just relieved to finally be able to go. 

Patrick is so pleasantly sore and drunk and warm. He’s still covered in the sticky mess of it, knowing it’ll be much grosser on waking but he can’t bring himself to move. Art stumbles, back into the king sized bed, moving away from the wet spot but still burying his head near the crook of Patrick’s head and shoulder. So yummy.

He’ll probably tell Art at some point, maybe. Possibly. But right now the city is hungover, the sun is peeking in through the black out curtains and Patrick hasn’t felt this satisfied in a very long time. So easy… he drifts off into a peaceful sleep. 

(Flop era going strong. Sorry so long y’all. I couldn’t stop yapping.)

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a shopping mall. l Joel Miller

Summary: after the loss you tried to rebuild your life together

Warnings: fluff; Joel and Reader are anxious but keep trying; Ellie is embarrassed; childbirth; emotional concerns; remembering loss; some hope

A/N: you know what? I like this story. writing these chapters gives me a lot of comfort and pleasure. I know I've been mean to them lately, but I'm trying to fix that. I'm happy when I have the opportunity to read your opinions, it gives me strength and support. thank you for being here and reading.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

It was like walking on thin ice together. Slowly, carefully taking steps to avoid cracks and get to the other side as quickly and safely as possible. The icy water could kill you, and if one of you fell in, it was certain that the other would do everything to save him, and then he would go down.

That's how it was with you and Joel for the next few days. Or at least that's how you both saw it and felt it.

Everything happened slowly - small gestures, conversation, allowing yourself to feel. You, in moments when darkness consumes your mind, prefer to withdraw, isolate yourself from others. Now you were overcoming your fears.

And Joel saw how you fought it every time you approached him and told him that this day was not one of your best. You also allowed him to do what he did best, take care of you, without irritation or saying "I'll manage on my own." Because you were no longer alone.

Joel tried too. He had never been familiar with emotions, and now they were overwhelming him from every side. And there was you, he wanted to be able to support you and help you, so he came out of his safe cocoon every time you sat next to him and talked. He also held back not to wrap you in the protective blanket of his concern. And that was really hard.

This time was really fruitful for you. Soon he heard your laughter, quiet and really sincere. He felt your embrace, even when in his sleep you were the one who was snuggling up to his back, kissing him lightly.

You both knew that what you were building this time was really strong, and you both wanted it.

"Damn, that's embarrassing."

Dina looked in the direction Ellie was pointing and giggled. "I think it's really cute."

Ellie frowned and looked at her friend. "Do you think Joel is cute?"

Dina rolled her eyes and shoved a few fries in her mouth. It wasn't until she swallowed that she decided to speak. "They're cute together." She explained, watching you and Joel dance across the room. "Think about it. We all have our own backgrounds, and they're just enjoying each other's company. Maybe they're a little embarrassing..." At that moment, Joel spun you around a few times, when he wanted to he could be a really good dancer. "But that's cute."

Ellie snorted and shook her head. She had a feeling Dina might have been right, and she was actually glad to see you at the Tipsy Bison dance. Things were going really well between you both, and Ellie breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, a really short one, she was afraid that what happened would be the end of you, and she didn't want that. Joel could be grumpy, and you could be a bit bossy sometimes, but she knew that you both cared and truly loved her.

She often thought back to one night, when your eyes were so sad and glassy, you looked at her and said quietly "I really love you, Ellie... You're perfect just the way you are.", and Ellie really felt it.

"Naaah!" she sighed, taking a couple of fries from Dina and stuffing them into her mouth "I still think they're embarrassing."

Dina burst out laughing.

You plopped down on a chair at the bar, wishing you could just grab a cold drink. Joel had disappeared with Tommy for a moment, and you were trying to catch your breath. It was a warm and pleasant evening, and you were really glad that Joel had suggested you come here.

"We're bumping into each other again!" a nice male voice rang out to your left, and someone sat down in the empty chair.

"Oh! Hi, Elliot." You greeted the man, smiling, "I didn't know you'd be here."

"It's a nice evening, why would I be home alone." he replied, "Can I get you a drink? Don't make me beg."

You glanced toward the entrance, but Joel was still talking to Tommy, so you figured you could use Elliot's company. You'd met a few days earlier when he'd shown up in Jackson, and you'd bumped into each other at the store.

"Shane said you two went on patrol together."

"Mhm." you nodded, taking a sip of your cold drink "And you? Would you like to take part in this too?"

"And could I be your partner?" he asked, winking at you and chuckling "Just kidding!" he added, seeing that he had caught you off guard "But I'd gladly take some advice from you, to be honest. You've been in Jackson much longer than I have and people know you, respect you..."

"Thank you." you felt warmth creep up your neck "You'd have to talk to Tommy about it, I'm not the one making decisions."

"Sure! I'll talk to him. Or maybe you'd like to..."

You felt someone wrap their arms around your waist tightly, and then familiar lips brushed your temple. "Sorry it took so long."

"Don't worry. I ordered you a beer." you replied, smiling at Joel "And this is Elliot."

The man greeted Joel, who responded pleasantly, but you clearly felt his hand find yours and your fingers intertwined tightly. You all talked for a while longer, about patrols, about life in Jackson, until Elliot finally said goodbye and disappeared among the people.

"What?" you asked, feeling Joel's gaze on you.

He shrugged. "I don't know. You tell me."

You finished your drink and rested your chin on your hand. Brown eyes stared at you, slightly shining from the beer Joel had drunk. "I won't believe you if you say you're jealous." you said finally.

He shook his head, smiling broadly. "I'm not, darling. I know perfectly well that you're only mine, but..." he sighed deeply "I feel a little sorry for guys who think they have a chance."

You patted him on the shoulder, bursting into laughter. "Really? Where are you so sure of that, Miller?"

He leaned in as if to whisper something in your ear. His voice was low and made your body shiver pleasantly. "I just know it, darling." Warm lips brushed your ear, and then he pecked you on the lips. "Come on! Let's go home. Ellie told me we're embarrassing her. Our mission accomplished.”

As soon as she opened her eyes she could feel that something was wrong. But it wasn't until she got out of bed and took the first few steps that she felt it. Something strange unexpectedly ran down her legs and onto the floor.

"Shane!" Ann moaned loudly, looking at the wet spot beneath her. "Shane! Fuck, come here!"

The bathroom door opened and the man stepped out nonchalantly, still brushing his teeth. "Whaaa?" he asked.

"I think I'm in labor." Ann grabbed her stomach as if that would stop everything and looked at her husband with a mixture of fear and excitement.

"Yeah, right... Fuck!"

He wondered the whole way from the stables to the house how he should tell you about that. Should he even tell you? Sooner or later you'd find out anyway. The door creaked quietly as he entered the house. The sun was streaming into the kitchen where you were preparing breakfast.

Joel looked at you for a moment. He liked moments like this and wanted to record them in his memory for as long as possible. You read on the couch, you sleep in your bed, you laugh with Ellie, you cuddle up to him... Many moments with you were already recorded in his head, good and bad, happy and sad. He wanted to remember everything.

"You're staring again." You glanced at him over your shoulder, smiling.

Joel entered the kitchen and cleared his throat. "Shane took Ann to the clinic today. She went into labor this morning."

You turned around abruptly and looked at him with wide eyes. "And?" you whispered.

"She gave birth two hours ago. Tommy told me." Joel replied. "Shane won't be going on patrol for a while and..."

"Boy or girl?" you interrupted him quickly.

Joel frowned, surprised by the question. "A boy."

"I knew it!" you were excited, you pressed your hands to your lips, and your eyes sparkled like stars. Joel smiled at the sight, and then he hugged you when you suddenly threw your arms around his neck "Oh, I had a feeling it would happen soon! I'm so happy."

Joel stroked your back and smiled to himself. Only when you pulled away did he notice that you suddenly frowned.

"Is everything okay, honey?" he asked with concern. He noticed how you bit your lip, clearly worried about something.

Finally, you folded your arms over your chest. "I didn't have time to prepare anything for the baby..." you sighed "I wanted to give them something, but so much has been going on lately and.."

"No problem. I can go with you to that old mall. They should have a kids store there, maybe you can find something."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to have to change your plans especially for me."

He walked over to you, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to him. “And who would I change my plans for if not for you, huh? Besides, you lost your partner on patrol for a while. Let me join you.”

You chuckled. "Oh, I don't know what my boyfriend will think about this. He can be a little jealous."

"So we won't tell him anything." Before you knew it, he kissed your neck. "It'll be our secret and..."

"Ugh! Disgusting! Do you really have to do this here? Before breakfast?" Ellie groaned as she entered the kitchen and sat down at the table.

Joel rolled his eyes and looked at the girl. "We were alone before you came."

"And you're not anymore, so please keep your hands to yourself."

The mall had been abandoned for many years. Many things had been taken and used, both by the residents of Jackson and by other people trying to survive. Your footsteps echoed quietly as you and Joel headed towards the baby store. You passed under the half-lowered blinds and entered.

"Don't spend all your money, honey." Joel mumbled, looking around the interior, which still had a lot of assortment. He walked between the dusty shelves, still keeping an eye on you as you looked through the drawers.

You soon found some necessary things - a few pacifiers, a baby blanket, a few clothes. You put all of that in your bag. It was only then that you noticed something that caught your eye. The smallest onesies you had ever seen in your life. You hesitantly touched the material decorated with colorful dots.

"You okay?"

Joel stood right behind you, looking at you with a mixture of worry and confusion, he didn't know what to expect.

"Did you know that babies could be so small?" you asked, taking the onesies in your hands and looking at them closer.

He was silent for a moment, but finally spoke. "When Sarah was born, she practically fit in the palm of my hand. I'm sure Ellie was the same."

"I'm sorry... I didn't think that you... I'm sorry, Joel."

"You don't have to. I almost forgot about it." he replied, kissing your head. "Did you find everything?"

You looked around the inside and stuffed the onesies into your already full bag. "Yeah, I guess so. I think Ann prepared well enough anyway. I wouldn't want to come to her empty-handed though."

"She'll definitely be happy when you come anyway. Let's go back, honey."

He was a little scared about all of this, but he hoped you were in a different place now. You had only met up with Ann a few weeks after what had happened, and she had been really stressed out then. You were her friend, and she was afraid of hurting you or bringing up painful memories. Joel was sure she and Shane had talked about the both of you, but he didn't hold it against them. They were both your friends, and they cared about you.

It was surprising though that your loss had reached so many people around you.

Joel felt your hand in his and glanced at you as you fell into step with him.

"Thank you for bringing me here." You said, the corners of your lips turning up. "I've missed doing this with you."

"Me too, baby. Me too."

He leaned down and pecked your soft lips. You were on the right track.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name

[theotherrookie]

Willow could perceive a certain anticipation coming from everybody present. She didn't think what she was doing was that worthy of notice, or points. She had only agreed because she wasn't allowed to use her daggers on Ratchet and to keep the Twins entertained.

The two were thoroughly enjoying watching their former colleague in pain and so did she.

"Nice shot, Willow!" Erica cheered.

Willow fired her last shots before getting back on her feet. She fixed her hair, then went to pick up Smokey and helped him jump at Ratchet. At this point, he was unlikely to tell the difference between imaginary nails and claws. The kitten could have some fun too.

"Thank you, but I think I will leave this sort of acrobatics to Erica." Willow replied, "It might be time to check Ratchet's conditions. Humans are not supposed to stay upsidedown for long."

"I haven't restocked yet. So it would be quite nice, if you could get me some." Lucien said, before smirking, "I only have a small sample left that I'm keeping for a special occasion."

"It sounds like you guys get up to a lot of fun when I'm not around." Erica said. Lucien only offered a mischievous grin in return.

"Ah, I don't mind them and so does Lucien." Rook replied, "Sometimes you just don't expect it, you know?"

Sort of like her last remark. Rook worked quickly, glad that the weather was cooperating. A bit of wind or too much moisture could potentially ruin the mixture. They would soon be able to move on to assembling phase.

"Well, I'm partially doing this because I want Five to have a taste of what it feels like to get hunted." Rook admitted, "It probably won't teach him anything, but it'll make me feel better."

They were going to see who was the real rookie between the two of them.

The Twins really thought they were onto something there. Seeing Willow without her coat also gave them a good idea of how they had their asses handed to them. She was ripped for such a tiny cyborg.

"Is there anything else you would like to request?" she asked.

"Nope!"

"That's it!"

This was worthy it just to watch Ratchet swing around like that. His protests were promptly dismissed as Smokey started jumping at him. He was simply too cute to be ignored to the point the scene seemed to pacify Lucien for a moment, as he got his phone out to record the scene.

"Willow doesn't do many flips and tricks like this. It's a good start." Erica said, watching her double closely. She knew that Willow could pull it off if she set her mind to it. It simply happened to not be her style, thus Erica was ready to help out in case of need.

But after a brief moment of pondering, Willow got to it and soon enough, she was standing on her hands on top of the chair. There was another pause, before she shifted to stand on one hand while using her legs to balance herself. The Twins ensured the nerf gun was fully loaded before giving it to her.

"Go faster!"

"We'll clean up if he pukes his insides out."

"It's fine, Travis. I know I should be more patient." Lucien replied, "But I shall take inspiration from this and plant some catnip in the garden."

"Hey, at least Ratchet is useful for something." Erica said, "He can be Smokey's scratching post when we're done!"

The Twins cheered as Willow once again nailed every shot.

"Fine, you get a pass this time." Rook said. She wasn't mad about the joke itself, just that it had caught her off guard.

"I wouldn't want to get fancy anyway unless the rocket was meant to be applied directly to his rectum." Rook scoffed, "These are more defensive anyway. I'm making extras so you guys can have them ready against Crosshair and Frosty. It's just like the real deal so you can just toss them at the ground to make them go off."

Once the music started playing, she sat down and got to work.

[bi-bi-buckleys]

A Post 8 x 11 Fix-It of Sorts

I wrote this last night and throughout the day in my notes app. I might add it to AO3 later, but for now it’s a tumblr fic. It’s a bit of fluff and a lot of “Buck and Tommy talk things out.” Rated T.

~~~~~

The last thing Buck is expecting when he answers the door that morning is Tommy.

“Uh, h-hey Tommy.” He tries and fails not to think of the first time he ever opened his door to see Tommy standing there.

“Hey Evan.” Tommy replies with a small guarded smile, like he’s going for casual. Like this is the norm.

“What brings you by?” Buck asks trying not to sound like he’s hoping for a repeat of the other night, but honestly who could blame him? He’s only human and Tommy is wearing a dark green plaid flannel with a tight white tee shirt underneath, his jeans snug as usual. His curls are slightly mussed and he has a days worth of stubble. He looks gorgeous and Buck feels his face heat.

“I bought you a housewarming present.” Tommy responds, sounding proud of himself.

“Oh? You uh, you didn’t have to do that.” Buck blinks a bit in surprise, unable to hold back his smile.

“I know,” Tommy shrugs, casual as anything. “But I wanted to.”

Tommy turns to the side and starts pulling a handcart with a large box on it.

“What-“ Buck starts to ask before he sees the picture on the box.

“It’s a kitchen island.” Tommy says. “Never noticed before that Diaz didn’t have one until I cooked breakfast the other morning.”

Tommy wheels the handcart into the kitchen and carefully slides the box off of it.

“Your counter space is abysmal,“ Tommy continues, turning to face him with his eyebrows raised. “I know how much you like to cook, so you need something. The island at your loft was massive, and this really doesn’t compare, but it’s a good one. I asked my buddy at the hardware store for recommendations.”

Buck is at a loss for words. He had been thinking the same thing just last night. It never fails to amaze him how Tommy just seems to know what he wants.

“Thanks, Tommy.” Buck knows he’s smiling like an idiot and he doesn’t care.

“You’re welcome.” Tommy smiles back, soft and adoring.

Before Buck can say anything else, Tommy grabs the handcart and starts to leave the kitchen.

“Well, I’ll let you get to it. It might take you a while to put together.” Tommy says, walking towards the door.

“W-wait…” Buck feels like he’s experiencing whiplash right now. He trails Tommy through the living room.

Tommy laughs at the look on his face.

“I’m kidding.” Tommy props the handcart just outside the front door then walks back inside. “I’m not making you put that thing together by yourself. Not that I don’t think you could, but still. It’s always nice to have an extra pair of hands.”

Buck huffs out a relieved laugh as they make their way back to the kitchen, giving his ex a playful swat to the shoulder. Tommy laughs again and flicks his bicep. Buck thinks about how they left things the last time, and it should feel awkward but it doesn’t. Being with Tommy feels like the most natural thing in the world.

They open the box and Tommy sorts everything out on the floor in front of them while Buck reads over the instructions. They work together companionably, falling into a rhythm they established during their six months together. When they are about halfway through assembling the island, Buck looks at Tommy and makes a decision.

“You know I didn’t mean what I said the other morning, right?”

“Hmm?” Tommy responds, focusing on the hinge he’s screwing on the cabinet door on his lap. Tommy had stripped off his flannel and was just wearing the white tee now. Buck watches his arms flex and has to force himself to remember why it’s so important to talk right now.

“When I said ‘I don’t have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with,’” Buck says on a nervous swallow.

“It’s fine, we don’t have to talk about that.” Tommy says, still not looking at Buck.

“No, w-we do, Tommy. I didn’t mean it. Well, I mean… technically, yeah, I-I don’t have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with.”

Tommy sighs and he works on tightening the next screw.

Buck slides forward towards where Tommy is sitting on the floor and leans into his line of sight, gently lifting Tommy’s chin with his thumb and finger. Their eyes meet.

“But you’re not everyone.” Buck hopes Tommy can read the sincerity and vulnerability in his eyes.

Tommy takes in a shaky breath, but he stays quiet letting Buck continue.

“We were together for six months Tommy. Of course I had feelings for you, and I still do. I never stopped. I only said that because I was mad at you.” Buck sits back on his heels, but doesn’t take his eyes away from Tommy.

“You really spent our whole relationship thinking I was into someone else?” Buck asks, difficult as it is. When Tommy doesn’t respond Buck continues. “That hurts, to know that you were keeping something like that from me and that you could think I would ever feel something for someone who isn’t you especially while being with you.”

“I’m sorry, Evan.” Tommy responds, sounding truly remorseful. “I really am. It’s my own insecurities and I should have said something to you about it. There’s a lot of things I wish I had said to you but I just never did because of my own hang ups.”

Tommy sighs as he sets aside the cabinet door he’s working on. Buck can tell he’s steeling himself to say something, so he waits patiently until Tommy speaks.

“You told me I seem so confident, but I’m not. And I was worried that you’d see that and decide you don’t actually want me the way you thought. Which, again, that’s my own issue and one I never dealt with. I probably should, and I definitely should have told you how I was feeling. But instead I let my fears control me and I ran. You have no idea how much I regret that.”

“Probably as much as I regret not stopping you from running. Both that night and the other morning. But I let my insecurities get to me too. I’ve been left before, and I always just let it happen. But I don’t want to lose you again. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since…well technically since we met but especially since you dumped me. I’ve been baking as a coping mechanism. You have no idea how much flour I’ve gone through.”

Buck says it with a smile, which Tommy returns.

“I didn’t realize you missed me that much.” Tommy says, softly. He almost sounds amazed.

“Of course I missed you,” Buck shakes his head in slight exasperation. “I asked you to move in with me because I wanted you around all the time and then suddenly I didn’t have you! It sucked!”

“I’m so sorry, Evan. It sucked for me too.”

“I know. So, let’s fix it. Let’s work on our crap,” Buck reaches for Tommy’s hand and laces their fingers. “Together.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, squeezing Buck’s hand with a smile. “Where should we start?”

“Well,” Buck ventures, “I think you were so concerned about going at my pace, that you didn’t consider that maybe I operate at a quicker speed than you. But Tommy, what you want in a relationship matters just as much as what I want. I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for, and I want you to tell me what you’re feeling. Even if I might not like it. A-and I need to work on not letting it get to me and lash out like I did. I really hate that I hurt you, and that I made you think I don’t have feelings for you when nothing could be further from the truth.”

“I know,” Tommy nods, covering their linked hands with his free one. “And I appreciate you apologizing. But I shouldn’t have assumed you had feelings for Eddie beyond those of friendship. And I don’t want you to think it was constantly on my mind. More like a really annoying voice in the back of my head that would pop up every now and then. It’s not even just Eddie; it’s waiting for you to see through the confident facade and realize you deserve someone better.”

“Tommy, you being confident isn’t the only thing I like about you. You’re funny in a really snarky, deadpan, kinda dark sort of way. You’re sweet and considerate. You’re smart. You’re brave. You’re dorky. You’re so many things! And it’s ok that you’re not Mr. Confident, who is? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hate hearing that you think so low of yourself that you believe I could ever find someone else to have those feelings for. But I get it. From a deeply personal perspective. But I also choose to trust you and your feelings for me. I’d like it if you could do the same for me.”

“I will. Or at least, I’ll work on it. And I’ll work on not running when I get scared and trusting that I can talk to you about these things. It might take me some time to get there, but I’ll try my damndest to do it.”

“You’re good at trying your damndest.” Buck smiles, thinking of the last time Tommy said that and actually managed to come through for Buck, covered in soot and exhausted.

“You’re worth it.” Tommy says with a shrug, like it’s obvious.

Buck’s breath catches and he leans forward to kiss Tommy. Just for a second, a simple press of lips, but it’s perfect.

“So,” Buck asks, feeling nervous despite knowing the answer. “You wanna give us another try?”

“Yes,” Tommy answers immediately. “There’s nothing I want more.”

“Good,” Buck beams at him. “Me too.”

“Good,” Tommy responds, his whole face crinkling with that smile of his.

They finish assembling the island, discussing a few more issues they never really addressed the first time around. Buck tells Tommy about his past experiences with love and Tommy tells him his. They talk about their families, their childhoods, leaving home. It’s as if a floodgate has been opened, and it feels amazing. Being able to just talk about the things they went through and knowing the other will listen and not judge. It slows the process of their project down, as they occasionally stop to focus on each other, but it doesn’t matter. They have time.

When they’re done they look at their finished project and Buck is beaming. They’re standing side by side and Buck raises his hand to high five Tommy.

“Oh, but I’m the dorky one?” Tommy asks with an unimpressed eyebrow raised.

Buck keeps his hand up, his face hurting from his smile. Tommy’s fighting a smile of his own, a fight he loses as he raises his hand to meet Buck’s.

Buck turns his attention back to the island. Tommy picked one out that goes with the rest of the kitchen cabinets and Buck squints playfully at the other man.

“Did you take a picture of my kitchen so you could find the perfect one?” he points an accusing finger at Tommy.

“Evan, your kitchen is white. That’s not that hard to remember.” Tommy rolls his eyes, and it amazes Buck how he can sound both bitchy and fond at the same time. Buck has to kiss him. It’s slow and sweet, but there is a bit of heat behind it.

Buck breaks the kiss to hop up on the island and smirks at Tommy with his tongue between his teeth.

“What do you say we test the sturdiness of it?” Buck waggles his eyebrows seductively at Tommy who snorts a laugh as he stands in between Bucks legs, his hands resting on his thighs. He looks like he’s considering something.

“I want you to know I’m truly sorry for assuming that I knew better than you how you feel and what you want. I did it to you when I left on our first date, telling you that you weren’t ready. I did it when I broke up with you, telling you that you would just end up breaking my heart. And I did it when I assumed you had feelings for Eddie even though you never actually did anything to insinuate that. You don’t deserve to have anyone telling you how you feel. I do trust you, Evan. I trust that you know your feelings and that you mean what you say. And if I ever try to put words in your mouth again, you have to remind me of this moment and what I’m saying and how much I mean it. Deal?”

Buck can feel his eyes stinging and he can see the exact moment Tommy clocks his tears. Concern creeps over the other man’s face.

“Hey,” Tommy reaches up and cradles Buck’s face in his hands, stroking Bucks cheeks with his thumbs.

“Sorry it’s just you have no idea…” Buck takes a steadying breath. “People have been constantly telling me how I should feel, or react, or what I should do. And to have you acknowledge that you did that, and apologize for it, and promise to do better… Tommy that really means a lot to me. Thank you.”

Tommy leans forward and kisses him, gently.

“Of course, baby. You deserve the best, you know that?” Tommy tilts his head down, making sure Buck can see the truth of it in his eyes.

“I have the best,” Buck responds reaching out to hold Tommy by the hips. “You may not think that about yourself right now, but I fully intend on changing that, okay?”

“Okay,” Tommy says.

“Okay. And you deserve the best too.” Buck is determined to make this man care about himself as much as Buck does.

“I have the best.” Tommy parrots, eyes full of warmth.

“I know,” Buck says cheekily.

Tommy snorts out a laugh and they both dissolve into giggles before Tommy captures Bucks lips in a searing kiss.

Later, curled up in bed together Buck goes to the website for the hardware store Tommy got the island from. He finds the exact one and types out his review:

“Very sturdy. Holds up well. 10/10.”

Tommy sighs and shakes his head as he reads what his boyfriend typed. He’s laying on his side facing Buck who is laying on his back next to him. When Buck turns to look at Tommy, he sees nothing but fondness on his face.

“Are you going to leave a review for your new bed frame too?” Tommy asks as he stretches and turns more onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow.

“How do you know I got a new bed frame?” Buck asks turning more towards him.

“Doesn’t squeak the same.” Tommy states matter of factly, his words muffled slightly by the pillow.

After a beat, they burst into laughter. Buck scoots closer to Tommy, nudging his way into his space. Tommy turns back onto his side, more than happy to accommodate him. He wraps his arms around Buck and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“We need to thoroughly clean that island before we prep food on it, you know that right?” Tommy says after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Sure, but uh, later,” Buck replies, gently pushing Tommy on his back so he can straddle him. “First, we need to test out my new bed frame again before I can leave that review.”

[cort4se]

ch 3

part 1, part 2 warning: smut (18+) sesbian lex, overstim if you squint

You don’t know how she managed to tangle herself between your limbs but the two of you sat on the couch, watching a movie you picked out after having finished the pasta you brought over, leftovers tucked neatly away in the fridge.

The movie wasn’t one of your favourites but it was an easy watch, nothing too crazy, just something nice and silly to pass the time.

You groaned as you rolled your eyes “I can’t belive she just did that to her, it’s not her fault shes poor— and that joke was lame as fuck,” you grumbled.

One of the main antagonists had just humiliated the main character at a party she held. In a game within a small group the bully jokes about what it must feel like to only be able to buy a few pieces of clothing once per year. Asking if it’s some sort of hippie trend going on for reduced waste. 

The main character, (frustratingly) laughs it off saying she's not all that interested in clothing. 

You didn’t notice it, but Vi was not paying attention to the movie at all. Your lips were moving but she couldn't hear anything. She pursed her lips together as she wondered, has she always been this pretty?

Vi tried to focus on the movie that had you all worked up, but her eyes kept trailing back to your face. Back to the way you scrunched your nose in annoyance, the way your eyes were the most expressive feature on your face, how your lashes tickled below your eyebrow each time you rolled your eyes. 

You turned to look at her when you noticed she's been giving you half responses, you frowned “Do you not like the movie? We can put something else on..”

She tucked a stray piece of hair neatly behind your ear, “No, it’s okay we can do whatever you like,” giving you a small smile.

You halted at the unexpected touch, and the calm expression on her face steeled into one of sheer embarrassment.She yanked her hand away trying to hide the heat she knew was painfully rushing up to the tips of her ears. 

You awkwardly shifted as well trying to brush off the gesture.

As the movie went on you leaned into her a bit more, your warmth printing into her body. Her body was soft against yours, her arm rested comfortably around your shoulder. 

After getting bored with the same plot being overused with the same trope you've suddenly become more interested in each detail of her face. 

You knew she might have eventually caught you but you couldn't help yourself. So, when you thought she wasn’t paying attention, your eyes would wander a bit.  Around her big blue doe-like eyes, and to her stupidly long lashes.

Over the freckles that decorated the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. The bold of her eyebrows, and the scar that bridged through it. The ring that glinted in her nose. Her li—

You forced your eyes away, huffing in an attempt to ground yourself. She's my friend. You remind yourself. 

But she laughs and your eyes are on her face again. Drawn unconsciously to the vibrant colour of her lips. The bright whites of her teeth and the overwhelming warmth you feel just by being near her. 

You couldn’t wait around any longer. 

“Vi,” you called out to her. 

She turned her head to fully face you, responding with a soft, “Hm?”

And with the fear that clawed at every reasonable part of your brain, telling you, you were going to make a mistake; one you could never undo, your desire for something more drowned it out. In abandoning all reason you kissed vi. 

Her lips were soft against yours, you could feel the plushness of them, the scar on her lip that felt a bit rough but also her hesitation. The hesitation that confirmed you had just ruined everything. The hesitation that made you want to pull away, apologize and go home. 

But from the way she grabbed the nape of your neck and moved her face closer to yours, you had reason to believe she silenced her fear as well. 

Vi knelt between your legs, completely devouring you. Her tongue lapped along your folds, not letting a single drop go to waste. The fatigue from your orgasm was catching up to you but she didn’t care. 

You made such pretty noises and she wanted to do everything she could to keep hearing them. Your hole spasmed against her tongue, your lungs stuttered against your ribcage, trying to keep up with her pace. She was touching you everywhere, cupping at your breasts, kissing up your inner thigh, biting at your ankles, her warm touch felt like fire against your feverish skin.

Every noise she pulled out of you grew her confidence and would only encourage her to stimulate you differently like lightly biting at your inner thigh or gently flicking at your clit with her tongue. Each time she did, your muscles would tense up as your voice hitched in your throat as you tried to grapple between the overwhelming pleasure and the slight discomfort from the oversensitivity.

Her eyes shimmered with amusement whenever she looked up at you from between your legs.

Yes you were close friends but that’s all she ever thought you guys would be. It made no sense to continuously yearn after something you couldn’t have, but she was beyond ecstatic to be doing this with you. Her eagerness fueled by her desire to make up for all the times she declined your offer to grab something to eat, not knowing you wanted her the same way she wanted you.

A curse slipped past your lips as her tongue teasingly dipped into your hole forcing your attention onto her. 

“You taste so good,” she murmured.

Her firm hands sunk into your upper thighs keeping you in place, glossy eyes locked onto yours as she flattened her tongue, slowly licking up your folds dragging her tongue against your wetness. Her nose briefly meeting your clit. 

Your brows drew together as you watched her slow and deliberate movements. She was looking at you so intensely you almost came from her gaze alone. Your body was heating up more than you thought was humanly possible. 

She blew lightly on your cunt causing a small whimper to escape from your lips as your eyes fluttered shut. Impatience making you squirm from underneath her touch.

Vi loved how your chest heaved as it rose up and down, the way your nipples twitched against the cool air, how your hazy eyes hid behind your thick lashes as you looked down at her, how the marks she adorned stood out on your skin illuminated by the low lights in her room.

“You're so pretty,” she whispered.

Warmth bloomed in your face as you suddenly felt so exposed in front of her, and her saying that didn’t help at all. It felt like she was trying to make you feel embarrassed, your thighs pulled themselves together almost instinctively.

Vi dug the pads of her fingers into your thighs keeping them open. She pressed a soft kiss at your inner thigh, black hair tickling your thigh as she rested her head against your thigh. clouded eyes looking up to meet yours, “Is it too much for you?” 

Her thumb absentmindedly drew small circles on your other thigh, so innocently as if what she was asking was like asking what your favourite colour was. “We can stop if you want me to.” 

“Fuck..” you muttered. 

She sounded so sincere asking you that it made your mind rotate. especially given her lewd appearance. A mixture of your cum and her spit was all over the sides of her cheek, her chin and her mouth. 

You swallowed hard at the sight, before you quickly shook your head. “I don’t want you to stop Vi,” you whispered.

She moved her head from your thigh to kiss at your inner thigh before swirling her tongue against a spot she knew you were particularly sensitive. Her teeth latched onto the soft skin as she softly bit you. You let out a low hiss, as she looked up at you before giving you a small smile.

She placed a small kiss on your clit before effortlessly sliding her middle and ring finger into your soaking cunt with an audible squelch. 

“Mmngh, f-fuck” you moaned out, pressing your eyes shut.

She bit her lower lip as she watched how your cunt swallowed them whole. She pumped her fingers in and out, watching in awe as you squirmed from the oversensitivity.

“Mmghhh— ah!"

The wet sounds coming from your cunt and swollen lips only encouraged her to curl her fingers and work at your hole even more. Her thumb rubbed small circles on your swollen clit.

Countless moans tumbled past your lips as the sensations made it so hard for you to form a coherent sentence. 

Her lips parted slightly as she watched you, her own face growing redder and redder by the second. Vi wanted to put her hands all over you, she wanted you entirely, but she also didn't want to scare you away. 

You unconsciously rolled your hips against her palm, chasing after more you knew you could handle.

She lowered her face down in between your legs removing her thumb as she softly wrapped her lips around your swollen pearl. Still fucking you with her fingers, she began peppering soft kisses on your clit, before she teasingly flicked at it with her tongue.

You screamed out her name as tears began to prick at your eyes, your hands rushing to grip at her strands. Bridging oversensitivity and bliss, your eyes threatened to roll into the back of your skull as your thighs trembled with each motion of her tongue. 

An overwhelming warmth began to build in your stomach as your walls spasmed against Vi’s fingers. “Hnnn fuck I’m so close Im gonna— ah!” 

Back arching against the tangled sheets. Your fingers threaded through her hair as you pulled her impossibly closer into you.

You were growing dizzy with the overstimulation. She smiled into you from the way your cunt squeezed around her fingers. 

“Cum then.” She removed her mouth from your clit as she effortlessly slipped a third finger in and the heat in your stomach spilled over and onto her palm, your heart battered furiously in your ears ecstasy blocking out the volume of your own pleasure, the entirety of your body light on fire.

She brushed a loose lock of hair out of your face, bringing your gaze back onto herself as she pulled away and brought her fingers to her mouth. She swirled her tongue around them, licking them clean. 

Upon noticing the tears that streamed down your face, concern etched into each corner of her face, “Shit. I'm sorry, was it too much? Are you okay?” She brought up her hand to cup your cheek, softly swiping away the partly dried tear with the pad of her thumb. 

You weakly shook your head no, a feeble smile finding its way onto your lips, “You were amazing.”

Her face tilted downwards with a slight bashfulness, “Oh..” she said, letting out a nervous laugh, “I'm glad you liked it.”

You took in her visuals, trying to catch your breath, but it was so difficult when someone as gorgeous as Vi was watching you come down from your high. You were fully naked but her eyes darted across your bare skin like she was itching to undress you. 

You hooked a finger beneath her chin and brought her gaze up to your eyes, bringing your lips to hers. 

Your lips moved against each other, seamlessly falling into a comfortable rhythm. You took Vi’s lower lip between your teeth, pulling a soft moan from her in the process. Taking advantage of her parted lips, you slipped your tongue into her mouth, meeting hers. You let out a soft whine at the taste of yourself on her lips. 

Vi kisses from down your lips, to your jawline, nibbling and biting at the skin, kissing lower to the base of your neck. suckling and peppering kisses that will definitely leave marks.

Your hands moved from her hair, to her neck, sliding down her shoulders, tracing down her arms where they trailed down to rest on her hips. Playing with the waistband of her pants, she pulled away from your neck.

Her lips were swollen, eyes shiny with pupils blown out to the rim. You note her eyes widened when you slipped your hands past them, tracing soft circles with the tips of your fingers against the bare skin on her hips. 

You taunted her with a soft, “May I?”

The next morning Vi woke up feeling oddly good about herself. Feeling as though whatever she dreamt of last night must’ve been fairly important. She propped herself up on her elbows desperately trying to piece together what it was she dreamt of. 

To the sound of sheets ruffling you groggily stirred awake. Rubbing your eyes as you rested on your shoulder, covers dipping low enough to reveal your bare skin along with the harsh kisses she left at your skin. 

And the heat in her face painfully reminded her that last night was very much real.

cross posted on ao3 with the same userr <3

[chilling-seavey]

Lessons in Lust and Other Illicit Desires (gr63) —TWELVE

↳ A/N One of my favourite chapters!! Can't wait for you guys to read this one 👀 let me know what you think! <3

↳ Series Summary: Sensible, wise, and a hopeless dreamer, Rosaline was used to men not giving her a second glance. She soon discovered it was merely those mundane college boys who were nothing more than simply intimidated by her intellect. What she needed was a man — someone who could impart knowledge beyond the Classics and guide her in discovering her own confidence as a woman. The thrill of sneaking around with the ever-so-charmingly handsome Professor Russell was certainly a bonus.

↳ Pairings: OxfordProfessor!George Russell x Innocent!Student!OC, Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc (background)

↳ Chapter Word Count: 9.2k

↳ Chapter Warnings: 18+, nsfw, lots of touching, nipple stimulation, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), verbal consent and check-ins, little bit of begging, mention of body hair, cum, aftercare (obviously).

The wood paneled stairwell was quiet, too quiet, the kind of quiet that made Rosaline’s pulse hammer in her ears. It was well past sundown on an average Thursday evening, most of the students shut away in their dorms with their textbooks or already have found a place off campus to waste their time and money. Rosaline knew Pembroke College’s quiet hours by then, three years since her first year at Oxford and living in the accommodations, pinpointing the rare time where there was a lull in foot traffic through the dormitory halls. 

It didn’t mean she wasn’t chillingly anxious, however, knowing that it would only take one person’s decision to step out of their room to render her caught. It had seemed like a good idea two hours ago, back when words held more reassurance than the uncertainty of reality that quickly overpowered them. After days of texting almost non-stop and acting completely nonchalant in the lecture hall, Rosaline and George were both itching to see each other outside of campus where they could have proper privacy. 

George’s house was off the table since his sister was staying with him for the week and it wasn’t like they could meet up anywhere in the city since the University basically was the city meaning eyes were everywhere. Their only option was Rosaline’s residence: the Pembroke College Dormitories. 

But now, sneaking a professor into the dormitories undetected was surely one of the most challenging Rosaline would have to face throughout her entire Oxford career. George had snagged a plain black baseball cap from the backseat of his car to try and conceal his face in the off-chance someone did stumble upon them and he had the collar of his spring trench coat popped just a bit. It was truly a ridiculous excuse of a disguise but what other choice did they have? Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

Rosaline clutched George’s hand, glancing over her shoulder at him every few steps as they ascended the worn wooden staircase of the dormitory building. She had never been so aware of just how creaky the floorboards were. 

“Are you sure about this?” George murmured, his voice low enough to send shivers down her spine but, at the same time, felt so loud in the silence of the staircase.

“Little late now.” she replied just as quietly, barely heard with her back to him.

At the top of the stairs, they took a left and headed down the quiet hallway lined with numbered doors. Small white boards were affixed to the doors under its bronze number, each housing the residing student’s name (and some also had graffiti from passing peers…there were at least a few immature drawings of penises on some boards). 

Rosaline stopped them outside her door and her keys jingled as she pulled them from her coat pocket and hurried to unlock her room. George stood close behind her as if trying to use the shadow of her body to shield himself from any students who might have slipped out of their rooms at that moment. His wandering eyes drifted around the hallway and then upwards to the pendant lights that looked like they were from a hundred years ago and still hung equally in place down the coffered ceiling. 

Rosaline grabbed his wrist to pull him into her darkened dorm room with her. Having been a bit too entranced by the interior architecture of the dormitory building, he let out a surprised gasp at her sudden tug as he stumbled after her into her room. The door was shut behind them, locked, and then Rosaline turned on the lights. 

“Jesus,” Rosaline exhaled, slumping back against the door, “did we seriously just get away with that?”

Seemingly heaps less stressed than she was, George only smiled at her exasperation and focused on taking a few more steps into her cramped dorm room, glancing around as he toed off his loafers. He replied casually, “We did.”

Rosaline stayed against the door for a moment, watching him in that setting, the room in which she had never once brought back a guy—and certainly not a man—and where she wrote her dreamy stories that she thought would never come true. But here he was, all six-foot-one of him in all his effortlessly handsome glory, eyeing up her desk and her neat stacks of novels and notebooks. George reached out a cautious hand to gently tap at the Mark Twain bobblehead sitting on the corner.

As if suddenly remembering how to be a proper host, Rosaline pushed herself away from the door and held her hand out, “I can take your coat if you want.”

George glanced back at her and then took his laptop bag from his shoulder so he could shrug off his coat to pass over to her with a genuine, “Thanks.” 

Rosaline hung it up on the hooks on the back of her door that were already slightly struggling to hold up all the jackets and bags she had stored there. Storage in a dorm room wasn’t much to write home about. She managed to keep everything balanced on the hooks before turning back to her guest. 

George was skimming her crooked bookshelf, his finger gliding over the spines. Rosaline wondered if she looked like this when she first visited his house; admiring every detail and corner of the space in which he lived. There was something exciting about it, watching him familiarize himself with her environment. 

“It’s not much but…” she shrugged casually, following after him farther into the cramped space.

He finished her statement without tearing his eyes away from her collection, “But you made it your own.”

“I tried.” Rosaline admitted with a soft smile.

George rested a finger atop one of the novels and pulled it out from its place to flip over to the back and read the synopsis. He stated, “I don’t think I’ve heard of this one.”

“It’s a more recent publication.” she drifted over to him. “It’s really good. Rumoured that it’s going to be made into a film but they always ruin the plot that way.”

“Oh, shame.” George chuckled faintly, turning the book over in his hand to see the cover. 

Rosaline watched him for a moment, the intrigue in his eyes. She then said, “You can borrow it if you want.” 

George looked at her, “Really? I’d love to give it a read.”

Rosaline shrugged modestly, “Of course.”

George set his bag on the end of her bed to open the top and slip the novel inside. His slender fingers toyed faintly at the stack of stapled papers also tucked in his bag, caressing the edges with feather-soft nudges.

“You said you have an assignment to work on?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” Rosaline sighed reluctantly, “A Language paper. I just want to get my outline done tonight.”

George lifted out the stack of papers from his bag to show to her, “I brought some marking to keep myself occupied.”

Rosaline smiled in return, “So…like a study date?”

“Of sorts.” George chuckled and reached back into his bag for the thin box that held his pen.

With a click of the lighter, Rosaline lit her usual candles on her windowsill before placing herself at her desk. She opened her laptop and gathered her resources in a neat row beside her down to her printed rubric and highlighter. She then swirled around in her chair to face George as he rested back on her narrow dorm room bed, propped up in the corner between the wall and the headboard against some pillows. He had his notebook open on his lap and a stack of essays to be marked on the bed beside him, he uncapped his favourite blue fountain pen and glanced up at her at her shift.

“Are you okay over there?” asked Rosaline worriedly, “Sorry it’s not the most comfortable of spots.”

George shook his head with a reassuring smile, “I’m fine. It’s good. I can really work anywhere.”

“Okay, well if you need anything, just let me know.”

They each fell into their work—two passionate literaries. Rosaline, at first, tuned out the world as usual, turning her attention to her research outline and setting herself up for the beginning of the essay that she would have to write over the next week or two. She highlighted lines of the rubric and assignment outline on her desk and prepared her document on her laptop, the click of her keyboard faint in the quiet room. 

As she reached a lull in her pace, her eyes raised to look out her window towards the dark courtyard and the roofs of Oxford beyond. In the background of the dorm room’s silence, the sharp scratch of George’s expensive fountain pen on the stacks of essays, crisp and precise, filled the space. She could hear every smooth and formal curve of his handwriting as he wrote corrections and notes in the margins of her classmates’ essays. He was always a firm but fair grader. 

She heard the flutter of a page turning, a pause, and then more scratches of the pen.

Finally, Rosaline turned around in her desk chair to face him, tucking a leg up as she folded her arms on the back of it. George was so focused on his work that he didn’t notice her shift at first. His expression was narrowed down at the paper in front of him, deeply focused with his eyebrows slightly furrowed and his thumb resting under his chin with the side of his index finger against his lips. The dorm room was so small that even from across the room, she could see his eyes moving back and forth across the page as he read. Then, with an almost inaudible sigh, he dropped his hand down to draw a sharp line across something in the paper and then wrote out another note in the margins. 

Itching to get his attention, Rosaline nudged her glasses up her nose and declared, “I think I need a break.” 

At the sound of her voice, George’s intense concentration was broken and he looked over at her. His expression was surprised at first as if he had entirely forgotten she was there. When her words were processed, his lips turned up at the corners and his eyes softened. 

“I could go for a break,” he agreed. 

Rosaline rose from her chair and took the four short steps across the small room to her bed. George shifted over a little on the narrow twin bed so she could have room to sit beside him, his notebook and a single essay still balanced on his lap, pen between his fingers. He lifted his arm up to welcome her under it so she could squish in beside him on the narrow mattress and he could hold her from falling off. 

“Just let me finish this one paper and then I’m yours.” he promised. 

Rosaline, tucked up close at his side, watched as he returned his attention to the open essay on his lap. Discreetly, she read along with him, wanting to see what her peers wrote about and how they formatted their essay structure. 

“Are you peeking?” George asked with a lighthearted tone. 

Rosaline snuggled a little closer, “Not at all.”

He dropped his hand down to write a note in the margin of the page in front of him, struggling slightly to work one-handed with his other arm still around her shoulders. Rosaline set her fingers on the page to help him keep it steady for his pen. He thanked her with a soft smile.

As she watched him work, she tried to keep her comments to herself, wondering why this classmate’s paragraphs were so short and yet still filled with 75% quotations. Not wanting to appear rude and conceited, she kept the thoughts to herself but, deep down, she was sure George was wondering the same. If nothing else, the amount he was writing in the margins was proof of that.

He circled a word and then spoke, “I’m surprised that by third year at Oxford for English Lit there are still some students who don’t know the difference between the three ‘there’s.”

Rosaline leaned closer, “You’re joking.”

“Unfortunately not,” George pointed to the word he just circled and then read it aloud, “‘...expressed by ‘there’—t-h-e-r-e—connection to the setting…’”

“My God.” Rosaline breathed in disbelief. 

George sighed and closed the stapled papers before he was even finished marking it, “I think I need a break too.”

As he set the paper back on the stack, Rosaline reached over him to thumb through them, “Have you come across mine yet?”

“Not yet.” George replied, tucking his fountain pen back in its box. “Are you eager for me to get to yours?”

“Depends, are you going to give me 100%?”

“Mm, careful, I don’t want to be caught playing favourites.” he chuckled, “Might just have to give you a 99%.”

Rosaline smiled at their light banter, letting him shift to drop his notebook and papers off the side of the bed and the stack landed flat on the floor with a thud. The box containing his pen was rested gently on top of them. Then, George settled back beside her and the dorm room bed creaked underneath the shift of his weight. Rosaline tried not to cringe.

But he seemed entirely unbothered and, instead, wrapped his arm around her shoulders again to pull their bodies closer together. It wasn’t difficult to snuggle on the cramped single bed—they really had no choice without one of them risking falling off—and neither would dream of complaining about it. They settled a little farther down so they were more so resting on the few pillows Rosaline had meticulously placed on the top of her bed. 

Face to face, chest to chest, they were laying eye to eye. Rosaline suddenly felt a little shy. She offered a timid smile and a breathy, “Hi.”

George’s lips pricked up at the corner and he replied just as gently, “Hi.”

“Comfortable?” she asked. 

“Mhm,” his hand around her back gently caressed her shoulder with his thumb, “You?”

“Very.” Rosaline agreed.

George’s other hand came up to tuck her hair behind her ear, his eyes roaming across her face and downwards towards her lips. Her heart started hammering in her chest, her fingers ghosting over the fabric of his corduroy button-up directly in front of her, unable to tear her gaze away from his pretty eyes. Had his lashes always been that long?

The warmth of his touch against her cheek had her shivering, the butterflies in her stomach rising into the unmistakable feeling of desire. Since the beginning of their agreement, she had never gone a day of seeing him without those damn butterflies invading her stomach at every given opportunity. She shifted a little, neck and head still supported by his arm around her, and was suddenly very aware of the warmth of his body at every point where they touched. 

George stroked her jawline with the pad of his thumb, cradling her cheek in his large hand, and then, ever so slowly, he leaned in. Rosaline’s fingers curled around the edge of his button-up as if needed something to ground herself on and her breath froze in her chest as his lips pressed against hers. 

They stayed there, motionless, for a few seconds before he broke away, the soft sound of their lips parting being the only noise in the quiet dorm room. Both of them took just a moment to breathe, George’s thumb still stroking her cheek tenderly, and then they both moved back in. 

Rosaline let out a small, barely audible hum against his lips as they shared slow, simple, lingering kisses. Her hands tightened on the front of his shirt as if wanting to draw him closer or not let him pull away. His palm was warm against the side of her face, guiding their soft, close-mouthed kisses with a reassuring touch, and, when his thumb pressed a little harder against her cheek to encourage her lips to part for him, she complied effortlessly. 

They were all too used to kissing by then, starting to understand each other’s intricacies and movements and what the other person liked. Kissing horizontally sure was new, however, and Rosaline felt as though it held a whole new layer of intimacy she had yet to experience. She wasn’t oblivious to the between-the-lines of their current positioning, what could easily develop from here; instead, she tried to stay focused in the moment, matching the pace of his lips with her own as their kisses deepened.

George’s hand moved from her face to slide down the silhouette of her body, along the side of her figure. As they kissed lazily like that, his fingers slipped under the fabric of her shirt and lured her closer, pressing indentations into the flesh of her hip. Her body naturally arched against his and he groaned softly into her mouth as their legs tangled together to get impossibly closer. 

The narrow dorm room bed creaked beneath them as he shifted to prop himself up at her side a little to start to pull her sweater up and over her head. His kind eyes searched her face for any hesitation as he dropped it to the floor. Rosaline stared up at him with unmistakable longing in her gaze, her hands following his lead as her fingers started to undo the buttons on his shirt one by one. George just stared at her like that for a moment, watching her rouged cheeks and wandering eyes and the gorgeous spread of nervousness and determination in her gaze and every action.

Soon, his shirt was pulled from his shoulders and it, too, was discarded to the floor off the side of the bed. Rosaline’s hands magnetized to his chest as he leaned back down to kiss her, feeling the firm muscle of his pecs under her fingertips that she had missed over the prior few days and weeks since she had last been at his house. Their perfect privacy once more swirled around them and she found herself smiling into the kiss. 

She traced the lines of his figure down to the expanse of his faint abs and her fingers grasped onto the waistband of his slacks. Her body arched up towards him again like it had a mind outside of her own. George’s arm easily slid under the small of her back, lifting her hips up towards his with a small groan into her mouth at their closeness and the building friction between them little by little. 

He wasn’t quite hard yet but she could still feel the shape of him through his pants and hers, the unmistakable bulge that had her salivating from just a fleeting touch with the emotional weight it held. Rosaline gasped softly into his kiss, falling a little ungraceful in their shared rising desire and the movement of their bodies on the creaky bed; his tongue against her teeth and her lips kissing his cupid’s bow.

“Mm,” George’s nose bumped against hers before trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck. 

Rosaline’s head fell back against the pillow with the rise and fall of her chest getting heavier, lust-blown eyes staring up at the ceiling as he kissed her neck. She raised a hand up to nudge her glasses up her nose again before slinging her arms around his shoulders, trying to breathe and somehow tame her racing heart. Her eyelashes fluttered and her teeth sunk into her kiss-swollen bottom lip, body still trying to push up to find his, instinctively craving any and all friction between them. 

“So needy.” George purred against her neck, his hand sliding over the curve of her figure and pulling her hips up against his. His tongue swiped along the column of her neck and she shivered.

“Please,” she breathed to the ceiling, the words falling from her lips without a second thought, “Touch me, please.”

“Touch you?” George echoed, his breath fanning across her neck. 

“Please, sir.” 

George let out the prettiest moan just beneath her ear at the sweetness of her plea and he nipped at her earlobe. For a moment, she could have sworn she felt his dick twitch in his slacks against her thigh. Then, he was moving farther down her body with a trail of kisses leading over her collarbones and towards the line of her bra, the gentlest of sensations sparking across her skin that had her fingers tangling in the back of his hair.

“Gorgeous girl with such good manners.” George praised lowly. He kissed over the swell of each of her breasts that were snug in her bra before his hands followed to trace the cups. His eyes raised to hers. 

The sudden glance of his big blue eyes had her heart leaping in her chest, staring down as he kissed over her breasts and his slender fingers toyed with the straps of her bra as if asking for permission. Her fingers flexed through the roots of his hair. 

“Can I take this off you, darling?” George asked softly.

Rosaline could only nod.

“I need words, pretty girl.” he whispered against her skin. 

“Yes.” she forced out in a breath, “You can take it off.”

He smiled up at her in that handsome way that had butterflies swirling around in her stomach, right down to the mischievous twinkle in his eye. His fingers looped under the straps of her bra and pulled them down her shoulders, making sure to kiss across her skin as he went as if leaving no fraction of her unappreciated. 

The bed creaked again as she took his unspoken lead to shift her body so he could slip his hands behind her to blindly unclip her bra. Rosaline tried not to think of how much practice he must have had to be able to do that so effortlessly. Instead, she focused on the way he dragged the garment away from her chest and down her arms, letting it, too, fall to the floor, all without taking his eyes off of her. 

Rosaline couldn’t stop watching him, staring at him stare at her laid out half bare beneath him. His warm hands rubbed up her sides before settling his palms over her breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze. His fingers dusted over her nipples, synchronously framing both between middle and index fingers on either side just to get them to harden up under his touch. His thumbs traced along the underside of her breasts as if mapping her body into his memory while he soaked up the sight of her with hungry eyes.

“Beautiful, beautiful girl.” George breathed.

Her hand tightened in the back of his hair without thought, drawing him closer. 

Without a word, his eyes flicked up to hers as he followed her guidance to move closer towards her chest and he dropped out his tongue to lap at one of her nipples. Rosaline pulled in a tight breath at the unfamiliar sensation. Pleased with her reaction, George swirled his tongue around it and then licked at it flatly, smearing her breast in his saliva before he was pulling away and then finally swiping the pad of his thumb over her nipple to see it harden up more. 

His eyes then raised to hers, “How’s this?”

“Good.” Rosaline bit her smiling lip. She could feel how flushed her cheeks were.

George’s lips pricked up at the corners, “Yeah?”

She nodded, her hand guiding him back down so he could give the same attention to her opposite breast. Rosaline, of course, knew that nipple stimulation was a common thing and she had written enough about it herself in those endless romantic stories of hers but, as she laid beneath him, the way his tongue and lips felt on her breasts had her toes curling. 

George’s eyes fluttered shut and he wrapped his lips around her nipple to take it into his mouth, sucking on it gently. He looked completely unbothered whether he looked ridiculous or not as he lapped at her nipples and played with her breasts. He was draped half on top of her on her dorm room bed, body against body, tangled up together, his large hands all over her and his mouth tasting every inch of her skin. She felt equally warm and covered in shivers.

One thing Rosaline knew she had to work on was not caring so much. He was clearly enjoying himself—with her fingers scratching gently through the roots of his hair and his mouth covering her bare breasts in kisses and licks and eager caresses—and yet something in the back of her mind had her worried if she wasn’t doing enough to please him in return.

“Is this…” she cleared her throat to get some semblance of her voice back, “okay for you?”

George’s eyes opened languidly as if he were in a haze and he pulled away from her breast with a soft, “Yeah. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” she shifted a little on the bed, “I just…don’t want you to be bored.”

“Bored?” George chuckled dreamily, reassuring her kindly yet firmly, “I am not bored.”

“You promise?”

George’s smile was warm and comforting and he caressed the skin just below her breasts with his cautious thumbs, “I promise. Let me take care of you. That’s our agreement, is it not? Show you how to feel pleasure?”

Rosaline nodded.

“Okay,” George leaned down to kiss her sternum and then left another kiss below that one, his voice nothing but a breath against her skin, “Just relax.”

His open-mouthed kisses were slow and gentle along the length of her torso, trailing down towards her navel calmly yet surely. His lips were warm against her body and the dampness of his mouth left her skin glistening in the location of every kiss as he moved downwards. She wondered if he could feel the way she shivered under his lips. 

George ended up at the waistband of her pants, his slender fingers tracing along the edge in a taunting, playful manner. His eyes raised up to hers, asking, “Can I take these off?”

Rosaline nodded, remembering her words with a small, “Yes.”

She could feel her heart doing somersaults in her chest as she watched him pop the button on her pants and then pull the zipper, his motions so calm and cautious and caring. She obediently lifted her hips to help him shimmy them down and then tucked her legs towards her chest so he could tug the material off her ankles. To the floor they went. 

She flushed under his gaze, staring up at him as his eyes drifted all over her and he situated himself on his knees between her legs. His hands ran up her shins to her knees to her thighs, not even flinching at the faint prickly hair left over from her last shave a handful of days ago. Instead, George leaned right down and kissed at her calf in those same stomach-whirling open-mouthed kisses.

He moved lower, trailing kisses up her leg and along her inner thigh as his body shifted down towards hers. His kisses slowed as his lips drew higher, drifting almost to the edge of her panties where his fingers were already toying with the waistband.

Rosaline knew what he was insinuating. Something deep within her stirred with a need unlike any other, wanting him to do it and pull her underwear off and give her what she had been curious about for her whole life. But, at that point, although she had already seen all of him, he had yet to see all of her; no one on earth had seen all of her except herself in bathroom mirrors. 

“Wait.”

His itching fingers froze and his eyes raised to hers in concern, “We can stop.”

“No.” she rushed out, reaching a hand down as if to cover herself with his face right there, “No, I just…”

George waited quietly for her to find her words, never wanting to rush her. He laid between her legs with his forearms holding himself up on either side of her hips, watching the uncertainty on her face with admirable patience. 

Completely entrusting of him, she confessed softly, “I’m nervous for you to see me.”

George gave her hips a reassuring squeeze as he asked, “Would it help if I got naked too?”

Rosaline debated for a moment and then nodded.

George sat back on his haunches and started to unbuckle his belt. She eyed him silently, still laid out on her narrow dorm room bed in only her underwear with her English Professor of all people situated between her legs. Despite the slight absurdity of the situation, she couldn’t deny the intense ache she felt radiating down between her legs and the way her pussy seemed to throb in time with the racing of her heart. George unzipped his pants and got out of them, the bed creaking and groaning under every slight shift of his weight until he was finally bare.

He was fully hard now, his cock standing proudly up and out from his body, but even still, he barely paid it any mind. Instead, he leaned down over her again and pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss. Rosaline’s hand grasped the back of his neck and she kissed him back, easily parting her lips to welcome in his tongue. 

His kisses were reassuring and comforting and his hand rubbed her hip as he kissed her, his thumb caressing over the curve of her skin. When he pulled away for a moment, he promised in a whisper against her lips, “We do nothing you don’t want to do.” 

She nodded and blindly grasped his hand to push it down between their bodies as they kissed, guiding him to touch her over the front of her underwear. Yes, she was nervous, but she was still just as horny as ever…finding it to be a balancing act of do or don’t. Her mind was going a mile a minute. 

George’s fingers grazed over the front of her panties and down between her legs without any more instruction, gliding his fingertips over the damp material and sharing a small groan into her mouth. Rosaline’s hands framed his face as they kissed sloppily, fingers curling into the roots of his hair a little as warmth poured through her veins at even the faintest of touches from him. She whimpered and her hips pushed up against his touch. 

“You’re soaked, darling.” George breathed into her mouth, his words taken by her insistent lips and tongue. He broke away from her lips to rest his forehead against hers for a moment, letting his fingers glide back and forth over the fabric of her panties. He spoke to her lowly, “I’ve barely even touched you and you’ve ruined these.”

“Please,” Rosaline exhaled, fingers twisting through the roots of his hair, her eyes heavy-lidded with lust.

“I’m going to take these off you now, alright?” he asked her gently.

With her nod and her soft ‘yes’, George sat back from her a little, positioned at her side and hovering over top of her, and he moved his hand from between her legs to the waistband of her panties. Rosaline could only stare at him, watching his profile and every flutter of his expression as he pushed down her underwear and finally got her completely naked for his eyes only. She could see the momentary clench of his angular jaw as his eyes raked over her body laid out beside him before his tongue was darting out to wet his lips. Instinctively, she lowered a hand to go to cover herself but right away he was nudging her away. 

Without missing a beat, he spoke with a voice filled with gravity, “My God, darling, you’re so gorgeous. Look at you.”

She squirmed a little under his unwavering gaze, luring his eyes back up to her face. There was a fierce emotion in his face now, a fire in his blue eyes that was fueled with lust and desire, something so raw and real that she swore she had never been able to replicate in her writing before. Something so powerful that she could only crave him closer and she pulled his lips back down onto hers. 

George’s fingers pushed through the thin, coarse hair along her pubis bone and slipped back down between her legs as he kissed her soft lips, drawing another sweet moan from her throat as he licked his way into her mouth. She shuddered at the feeling of his fingertips gliding across her slick folds, her mind whirling as he blindly explored her body draped out in the privacy of her dorm room. For a moment, she caught herself falling back into that insecure uncertainty, overthinking her entire existence.

But then he was kissing down her neck and breathing praise over her skin in a low rumble, “You feel so good under my hand…so fucking warm, baby.”

His hand was nestled between her legs, caressing her slick pussy and up to her clit and back down again in large messy circles. Rosaline’s breath was falling shallow, clinging onto him as he sped up the pace a little, forcing her to writhe beneath him with a soft cry of pleasure and need for more. 

“Shhh,” George hushed her against her cheek, “You’re doing so well, darling.”

Rosaline bit her lip hard, trying to keep herself somewhat quiet as they were faced with the thin walls of her dorm room all around them. When his hand slowed to finally start to press his middle finger inside her, she clutched harder at his shoulders and slung an arm around him, tugging him closer so she could bury her face in his neck, her body arching up against his. 

George held her closely, hushing her sweetly against her ear as she whimpered against his neck, and he breathed out a reassuring, “Okay?”

“Yeah.” she stumbled out in a trembling exhale. 

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.” he praised against the shell of her ear, slowly starting to pump his finger into her in tentative motions, letting her familiarize herself with the feeling. 

Rosaline’s hips jumped against his hand at the way his single digit grazed the untouched walls of her cunt, exploring her in gentle strokes. It was a strange and unfamiliar sensation—the subtle warmth of his finger inside her, not quite enough to stretch but enough to create a gentle pressure that sent her pulse racing. George moved with deliberate slowness, keeping a steady rhythm, not rushing, allowing her time to adjust to every delicate motion. Little by little, she found herself loosening, unraveling from the tight grip she’d kept on him, surrendering to the unfamiliar pleasure that was slowly consuming her.

Soon, her eyes were finding his again as she leaned back into her pillow with a possessive arm still around his shoulders, keeping them almost nose to nose. Her breaths were falling laboured as he moved his finger a little faster inside her, nudging right up into her in precise motions that had her toes curling. 

“Fuck-” she squeaked softly, struggling to keep her eyes open and on his. 

“That’s a good girl.” George praised lowly without taking his eyes off of her, watching her every expression. 

She was lost in the rhythm of his finger inside her, surprised how much she could feel from only a single digit when her fingers herself never offered her much sustenance of anything. There was something about George that was entrancing and spellbinding, like he knew just how to touch her to get her exactly what she craved. 

Rosaline was so out of her mind that she could barely hear her own voice as she breathed out a pleading and pathetic, “Please…more…”

“More?” George echoed, staring into her eyes as his finger slowed inside her, a smile pricked at the corner of his mouth, “Gladly.”

They shared a few more kisses before he was trailing more down her neck, her chest, her stomach, and her legs naturally parted to accept him lower. Rosaline’s heart was racing a mile a minute as she laid there, her wide-eyed gaze focused straight up at her ceiling as he kissed over her hips and thighs. 

Her fingers wrung into the rumpled sheets on either side of her body at the thought of someone else so close to her naked body and parts of it that no one had seen before. She could feel his eyes on her down there, his intense stare boring into her pussy, before his gentle fingers followed. The ache that was ever-present in her body craved more of his touch but the shy inexperience that lingered in the back of her mind was making it hard to relax. The last thing she wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. 

Anxiously, Rosaline spoke in a whisper, “Sorry if it’s—”

“Beautiful?” George cut her off knowingly, his fingers sliding between her lips to gather up more of that slick wetness that pooled out of her, “Absolutely perfect?”

“I haven’t had a need to shave before so I haven’t—”

“And you won’t need to now.” George shut her swirling mind down with ease, his voice gentle but with a firm stance as if determined to have her understand. His fingers spread out in a v-shape to frame her leaky cunt with his eyes all over her, assuring her seriously, “You’re a grown woman, Rose; there’s nothing wrong with natural. You’re perfect.”

She didn’t know how to reply so she didn’t. Instead, she braved a glance down at him. The sight was startling in the best ways, his lean and built body completely naked in the dull light of her dorm room and splayed out awkwardly on her narrow bed as he rested between her legs. He had his left arm looped under her thigh and his right was still gently playing with her pussy, exploring in gentle touches. 

George tutted softly without taking his eyes away from his fingers as they prodded gently at her entrance, speaking almost more to himself than anyone, “And, God, no man in his right mind would complain about a little hair when they have the privilege to go down on a woman.”

Then, his hand—fingers still slick and glistening—pressed against the inside of her left thigh and gently pushed it outward so he could better position himself, his head gently nuzzling against her supple skin. Rosaline shivered and pulled in an anticipatory breath, watching, waiting. She had no opposition, despite the nervousness of the unknown laid out before her very eyes. 

George’s eyelashes rested on his cheeks as he moved in a little closer and he nudged his nose against her cunt before breathing in deeply as if to take her in every sense. Finally, his tongue slipped past his lips and gave her a short, shallow stroke right along her entrance. Rosaline’s body flinched at the unfamiliar sensation, gasping faintly, her wide eyes focused down her body to where he was positioned between her legs. His thumb caressed over her thigh comfortingly as he gave her another few soft strokes of his tongue. 

When he pulled away, he licked his lips, breathing out a thick, “Christ…so sweet…”

Rosaline took in a shaky breath, fingers twisting in her sheets until he leaned back in for a few more tender laps of his tongue and she couldn’t help but drop her fingers into his hair. George groaned up against her, his hand tightening on her thigh, and he leaned in to press a few, slow, open mouthed kisses to her cunt. 

“Oh my God—” Rosaline withered, her mouth slightly agape as she stared down at him between her legs. 

Her soft voice had his eyes fluttering open and he stared up at her as he kissed and licked lazily at her cunt, only his nose and up visible to her. It was an unbelievably erotic position, she thought, staring at him like that and feeling every ounce of sizzling pleasure that his mouth gave her. Her fingers tightened in his hair and, almost naturally, her legs spread out wider. 

“It’s okay?” he asked her, his voice a lustful drawl like he was intoxicated, words muffled by her body. 

She shivered at the feeling of his breath on her skin and she nodded, “Uh huh…yes…”

George lapped at her pussy a little more in full solid strokes before gently suckling on her lips as if wanting to drink her up completely. With a breathless sigh, he turned to kiss over her inner thigh and his fingers caressed her flesh, keeping her spread open for him. Rosaline felt as though her entire body was on fire, like she was aware of every single nerve ending in her body all at once. 

Her hand tightened in George’s hair, silently urging him back. The faint tug at his hair had his eyes fluttering shut again and he nestled his face back between her legs, moving his tongue over her cunt again in sloppy strokes before dipping it deeper. Rosaline huffed out a breath and dropped her head back against the pillow while her hips tried to roll against his face. Her clit was aching and the faint nudges of his nose against it were not enough.

“Mm, fuck, darling,” George nearly purred, “you’re so delicious.”

She didn’t even have to open her mouth to ask for more because almost as if reading her mind, he dragged his tongue up to her clit and lapped at it lazily. A tight groan fell from Rosaline’s mouth as her head arched back on the pillow beneath her, legs flinching at the unfamiliar sensation. He gave her clit gentle tongue led kisses that landed wetly over and over until she was squirming and writhing on her dorm room bed, the frame creaking beneath her. 

“Please…” she whimpered, tangling her fingers in his hair some more, tugging at the roots a little, “Please, sir…”

George moaned softly against her clit at her words, the vibrations from his mouth making her shudder again. When he wrapped his lips around her clit and suckled gently, an involuntary cry was forced from her and she smacked her hand over her mouth in surprise at the sound. Rosaline felt dizzy with pleasure like she was almost existing outside herself in disbelief that this was really happening, some unheard of force taking over her body and making her react in ways she had never anticipated. 

She had heard many stories from friends over the years that oral sex only felt good when done right and, holy shit, Rosaline swore she never felt anything better. She didn’t dare think about the experience that George must have had with the twelve years he had on her in order to make him so good at eating pussy, but she silently thanked the heavens that he somehow ended up between her legs. 

With his lips and tongue lapping and suckling at her swollen clit, his fingers made their way back to her leaking pussy, slicking themselves up in her arousal and his spit. Rosaline spread her legs a little wider in silent invitation, fingers tugging more at his hair as her hips nudged up against his face.

Even with her positive body language in response to the tease of his fingers, George still asked her lowly, “This okay?”

Rosaline nodded almost eagerly, “Uh huh…yeah…please…”

He eased his middle finger inside her again slowly, moving effortlessly from how wet she was. He exhaled shakily and went back to tending to her clit with lazy flicks of his tongue as his finger started to curl inside her in steady motions.

“O-Oh my fucking God—” Rosaline withered, her voice sounding completely unlike herself with how pitchy it came out. “Holy shit—”

George found a sufficient pace of tongue and finger, his long lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks as he tended to her generously. She knew he wanted to do well by her, to be the first to introduce her to this pleasure, but he somehow managed to go about it entirely casually, appearing so relaxed and at ease between her legs. In a way, she felt as though his effortless and modest confidence made it feel better. 

The whimpers and moans that tumbled from her lips were nearly involuntary, spurred on by the immense pleasure that was tearing through her body. It was almost embarrassing but she really, truly, couldn’t help it. When he added a second finger inside her, she nearly mewled. 

There was a bit more stretch from two fingers than just one, just enough for Rosaline’s inexperienced body to feel a bit more full. It was a strange sensation, tight and stiff, unfamiliar, but eased with the comfort of his tongue lapping at her swollen clit over and over. She didn’t realize how noisy it could be; the harmony of his fingers nudging consistently into her sopping cunt paired with his heavy breaths and eager tongue that was slurping lewdly. It was so incredibly erotic. 

Rosaline’s fingers tightened in his hair, tugging his mouth harder against her and he responded generously, giving her just a little bit more as he moaned against her cunt. In doing so, her leg instinctively started to wrap around his head as if trying to close him out from the rising overwhelm but his free hand easily rested against her thigh and gently pushed her open to keep her spread. 

“Oh fuck…fuck, don’t stop—” she squealed, feeling her body start to tense, her muscles squeezing tighter around his two fingers that nudged steadily into her. Her head arched back with a tight groan as her eyes screwed shut, knuckles turning white from how she clutched at his hair, “Ahhh— yes, yes, yes, fuck—”

George could feel how close she was—feeling the throbbing of her clit under his tongue and the vice-like grip of her cunt around his fingers—and he moaned hungrily against her. He kept up his ministrations at that same consistent pace with his two fingers thrusting shallowly against the soft walls of her untouched pussy and his tongue and lips tending to her clit until he was nearly drooling down his chin. It was almost like he was drunk on her, eyes heavy-lidded and brain hazy, his hips absentmindedly grinding against her bed from the pleasure that bringing her pleasure pushed through his body. 

“G-George…” she sobbed out shakily, “Sir…fuck…I’m gonna come—”

His grip tightened on her thigh, holding her open even as her legs started to tremble. Rosaline swore she was getting dizzy, gasping and whimpering and clutching at his hair and the sheets like she didn’t know what to do with herself, chasing that overwhelming sweet release. Her steadily rising sounds suddenly cut off into silence as she reached orgasm. She completely tensed, freezing right up as she creamed around his fingers and just made every push of his two digits sound that much more lewd. 

“Ohhh, shit—” she squeaked as tremors tore through her body in waves of unbridled pleasure. 

George groaned against her pussy as he worked her through it, slowing only as her hands pressed flatly to the top of his head to try and get him to let up. Gasping, she laid boneless on her narrow dorm room bed as he pulled away from her with a final wet kiss to her throbbing clit, a string of saliva and her release connecting it to his lips. He wiped his glistening mouth and chin with his just as wet fingers as he shuffled onto his knees and took his hand to his achingly hard cock.

“Do you have a tissue?” George’s voice was ragged and rough, strained with the onset of immense pleasure that she could see spread across his face as his hand started to stroke his dick. 

“No,” Rosaline answered hurriedly before tapping her quivering fingertips against her abdomen, right below her navel, “here. Right here.” 

“Christ, are you sure?” he panted, although his hand only sped up. 

“Uh huh.” she nodded, dilated eyes flicking between his hand and his face. 

Her heart rate stayed quick in her chest, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she watched his hand work on himself in quick, practiced pumps. She had never seen a man masturbate before and certain not for any reason that had anything to do with her. Now, Rosaline was laid out entirely naked beneath him, watching as he got himself off after being painfully hard from just going down on her. 

“Yeah…that’s a good girl,” he panted lowly, “keep looking at me like that, darling, fuck.”

She swore she would never, ever get enough of the sounds he made when he was close; those tight groans and whimper-like breaths. Not to mention the expression on his face of his stormy blue eyes under furrowed brows, complimented by the flush of his cheeks that reached down towards his chest. The clench of his jaw, the flex of his bicep. If he lasted any longer she might have thought she was going to come all over again from just looking at him like that.

But then his hand slowed for just a beat, his left grasping onto her thigh in a snug grip as he reached his climax. Thick white spurts streaked over her abdomen and fell into the hairline just below, painting her skin in filthy creamy ribbons as he let out the handsomest moans she had ever heard. George’s hand worked himself through it a little more, pulling every last drop out of him until the last little bit oozed out of the tip and onto his fingers. 

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered, his voice thick through the way he panted for breath. 

Rosaline’s chest was heaving and she swore there might have been stars in her eyes as she stared up at him, her mouth slightly agape, in awe. 

George reached his clean hand up to swipe his thumb across her cheek tenderly, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, trying to get her brain out of its pleasure-filled reverie to form some semblance of an answer, “Yeah, I’m…that was…incredible.”

George’s face moulded into a smile and he stroked her cheek again, “Yeah?”

She nodded up at him and reached a hand up to grasp his wrist comfortingly, the heat of her palm against his skin feeling like fire. He thumb dragged over her bottom lip and, instinctively, her lips parted to take the tip of his thumb in her mouth. 

“Let me clean you up,” he breathed, his words a little shaky from their activities, “Tissues?”

Rosaline turned her head to look towards her nightstand, allowing his thumb to pull away from her mouth with a thin string of saliva connecting them briefly, and she gestured to the second shelf. George carefully shifted out from between her legs and climbed off the creaky twin bed so he could grab a few tissues from the box. She laid there patiently—feeling a little silly, naked and covered in cum and waiting—as he wiped off his hands first and then grabbed some more to politely wipe the mess from her abdomen. 

At first, she watched him clean her up, the gentle swipes of the tissue over her soiled skin and every precise fold of the thin cloth to make sure every drop was moped up. She was so used to being independent that it felt strange at first; having someone do something so intimate to simply clean her up. In thinking so, her attention shifted from his hand to his face as he had one knee on her bed and was leaning over her. His eyebrows were furrowed ever so slightly in the middle in concentration, his hair an absolute mess atop his head from her fingers pulling at it and his cheeks were still flushed and lips swollen and set in a natural line. 

George was careful with his touches as if he knew how sensitive she would be, especially as he took a few clean tissues between her legs to mop up the worst of the overpowering slickness that covered her cunt and thighs. She flinched in surprise at that, earning a small breathy “sorry” from him. 

He joined her right after, unbothered by the ridiculous creak of the bed frame as he settled beside her and wrapped her up close on the narrow bed. They shared a few kisses in which she could taste herself on his tongue. The realization made her smile softly, gentle fingers ghosting over his jawline to feel it flex as they kissed lazily. Dreamy, surreal. She wanted to pinch herself but didn’t want to wake up either. 

After a while of kissing and snuggling naked, they were dressed and George was pulling his bag over his shoulder. He opened an arm out to her to draw her into his chest, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek as her arms snaked around his middle. He sighed deeply; a heavy sound that caught her attention. She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, noting his downcast gaze. Her hands splayed across his back over the fabric of his jacket as if to keep him from pulling away in any sense of the term. 

“What is it?” she asked softly.

George pulled her closer again and his breath fell into her hair with another exhale before he spoke in a timid whisper, “I don’t like how this feels like some weird friends with benefits situation we have going on here.”

Rosaline felt her heart clench. Her fingers faintly grasped onto the back of his jacket. This was it, she was sure, she just let him in and now he was going to push her away and she would never be able to show her face in public and—

Before she could overthink too much, he continued, “I want to take you out properly.”

Oh. 

She shifted in his arms to look at his face again, “Are you serious?”

“Doesn’t have to be a date.” he added lightly, his voice barely a whisper as if he was suddenly nervous, reaching a hand up to trace the lines of her face with his fingertips from her nose down to her lips with his other arm still gently around her waist, holding her close, “Just…something more than just sneaking around like horny teenagers.”

A small smile flickered over Rosaline’s face and she stared into his ocean eyes adoringly, “I’d like that.”

“Perhaps lunch?” he offered, “Off campus? I might have a place in mind.”

She nodded, biting back the grin that threatened to overpower her. She didn’t want to look like an absolute lunatic when he was asking her out. With another nod, she managed out a casual, “Yeah, that’d be really nice.”

“Okay,” he leaned in to kiss her cheek again and his hand rubbed over the small of her back in parting as he stepped away and towards the door of her dorm room, “I’ll text you.”

“‘Kay.” Rosaline purred dreamily, following him to the door to see him out. 

With one more quick kiss goodbye, he was slipping out into the hallway and tugging down the brim of his inconspicuous baseball cap to shield his eyes from any passing students, disappearing in a rush of forbidden reverie towards the dormitory staircase. 

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[lesboficfanatic]

can I use this? Can I expand on this million dollar idea? What if I just…

just real quick, thanks,

Kratzis sighed the sigh only a dead man and the brave worker of the customer service frontline could sigh, the tired sort felt in the space between each rib.

In his hand he held the mangled remains of his communicator. Previously it had been clipped to his shoulder but a well placed shot from a chaos defector meant to take off his head had glanced it instead, ruining the once brand new equipment.

Lestasmen, the pompous commissar of his regiment, had bragged when they had first been issued, so proud to have the shiny new equipment to show his troops where supposedly the ‘best’,

“Honestly if he spent half as much of that vain energy on planning as he did prancing around like a peacock perhaps none of this would have happened. Eh Gear?” Kratzis turned to the body of Gear as if expecting a response.

To Kratzis’ knowledge it had been just the two of them left, well now just him, who had managed to break from the trap, get to the fortifications, fight they’re way through the fuckers and slam into a heavy looking possibly locking door. It had been a miracle they’d made it in, when they’d had there was a few more with them but in breaking in and racing down twisting halls and through dark rooms they had each slowly been picked off.

now it was just him, him and the body of Gear, a modified gun, based of a bolt blaster it almost sounded like had shot through Gear just as they had kicked the door to the, funnily enough, munitions room closed behind them. Whatever fresh hell the weapon had been it got Gear at an odd angle, both his lungs and he’d died quick.

Kratzis heavies himself up from the grenade box he’d been leaning on to get closer, he grabbed Gear’s own communicator from his shoulder and gave it an inspection.

it was whole and that was certainly an improvement from his own, but it also looked damaged, the side pieces where smashed in and concave a bit. Great. Just ficking great.

Kratzis fiddled with it anyway, turning it on and to broadcasting, maybe he can call high command? Get an evake the hell out of here, if he’s lucky some Salamanders are near by

the communicator spits out a crackle of static before falling steady, Kratzis radios in;

“High command,” he pauses waiting for a response on the other side first as protocal

silence

“high command this is a 4th regiment 3rd platoon soldier on xelsis ll do you copy?”

Nothing from the other side but the faint crackle of radio.

“High. Command. This is 4th regiment 3rd platoon. Do. You. Copy?”

Just his fucking luck this one was busted as shit too

He waits and fiddles with it for a bit, setting the output to max.

“high command come in”

Yet again silence.

“Damn this shit.” He clips it to his shoulder in case he feels particularly masochistic later and wants to fiddle with it more. He doesn’t bother with turning it off however, damn things about as useful here as his commissar was.

“Well Gear, what to do now? Stuck in this room, doubtful anyone else from the point site made it with us who isn’t already strewn out out there and your also dead in here,”

Again Gear doesn’t have anything helpful to say.

“Right, some help you are. Well, this is a weapons storage, might as well fuck some shit up eh?”

And with that Kratzis starts rifling through all the assorted weapons.

He grabs and straps every small gun, knife, grenade, bomb, chem explosive and sharp object he can to his body, if he’s fucked he’s fucking someone else up in here too.

feeling like a dead man with no alcohol after he’s plundered the weapons storage to its fullest he heads to Gear one last time,

“Sorry mate, I’ll be taking those Spirits I know you have on you,” and spirits he has, dear Gear, quickly becoming his favorite person on this wretched planet had two different flasks on him, one that Kratzis downed half off immediately and strung the rest of to his belt.

“Now I bet those asshats are waiting for me to either die of a wound or open the door, no way they’re forcing anything in here with the amount of explosive powder there is. Mmmm.” Looking around the room again Kratzis’ eyes caught the vent shaft in the corner, it would be cozy fit but it beats waiting around.

And so here Kratzis is now, warmed by alcohol and crawling in some dusty ass vent system of a rogue turned full on chaos base of some miserable backwater planet.

“For fucks sake, if they don’t shoot me first I’m going to die choking on some dusty ass shit in here.” Kratzis coughed yet again, the thin cloth he’d tied up around his head doing little.

Then he stopped, below him he heard faint shatter, some one was talking…

He couldn’t hear anything clearly currently so he moved as quietly as possible forward towards the next vent screen and quietly peeled it back a touch to listen.

Below him in a wide room where several chaos traitors speaking around a map, listening in Kratzis heard them talking about the site they had herded the regiment into and fucking jumped with everything, pinning the forces and smothering them. If they where to be believed there where no survivors.

“Oh fuck these guys” grabbing one of the chem explosives from where it was strapped to his thigh Kratzis gave it a quick glance, it was a highly explosive type that would spray a 15 foot area and any one who inhaled it would have their lungs melted in, ‘perfect for these dicks, all standing close together with their guards down’.

Kratzis quickly pulled the pin and dropped it down to them and then pulling the vent screen back.

“Musty bitch, big talk on how we died like rats let’s see you eat this.”

to the traitors standing together it looked as though damnation simply fell from the roofed ceiling,

“FUCK ITS-“ was all one could get out before it detonated and the drowning screams prevailed.

Kratzis smiled for the first time all day, this was going to be fun.

Lone guardsman is the sole survivor of their regiment, left stranded in enemy territory. Their communicator is busted so they can't contact high command or call for help. But do they give up? Do they sit down and wait to die? No! They are a soldier of the Imperium and they will fight to their last breath! Thus begins a one-person assault against the enemy forces.

Little do the guardsman know that, while their communicator is busted, it's not entirely out of order and while they can't hear anything, high command hears everything. High command gets front row seats to listen in as, the lone soldier they all thought would die in maybe an hour, successfully infiltrates the enemy stronghold, kills various enemies and even enemy commanders.

Guardsman, not knowing anyone can hear them, is swearing and complaining the entire time.

"God-Emperor help me, I fucking HATE this planet!"

"Join the army they said, it's an honor they said. Shove a lasgun up your ass and pull the trigger, that's what I say!"

"At least I don't have to deal with the fucking commissar anymore. Fucker cared more about his facial hair than he did about his men."

"Come at me you ugly sons of bitches!"

"Throne, it smells like absolute ass here. Reminds me of bootcamp."