#this lit started with just the notes page and then of course i had to 'test' my notes

[xxplastic-cubexx]

charles doddles

below the cut is notes for myself on how i draw him cause im SICK of being inconsistent !!!!!!!

[g1rld1ary]

the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper

wc: 4346

cw: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!

me: the remus brainrot is strong rn

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You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.

Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.

“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.

“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.

“Wait, really?”

“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.

“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.

��And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.

“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.

“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.

“Prongs, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.

“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.

It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!

Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.

“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.

“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.

“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”

“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”

Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.

It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.

Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?

After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.

While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.

“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.

“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.

You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.

“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.

“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.

You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.

“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.

“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.

Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.

You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.

Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.

You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.

“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.

“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”

“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.

“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.

“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.

“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”

The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.

“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.

“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”

“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.

“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.

“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.

Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.

You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.

Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.

“I love you,” He said and you laughed.

“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.

“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.

“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.

“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.

Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.

You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.

A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.

“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.

It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.

You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.

“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.

“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.

“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.

Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.

“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”

“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.

“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.

“Really?”

“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.

“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.

You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.

“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”

“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.

There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.

“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.

“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.

“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.

You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.

“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.

“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.

“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.

You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.

The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 6

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: a lot of jerking off WC: 8.4k AN: thank you all for your patience!! i started grad school so i got a bit busy, but now i will update about once a week! thank you all for the love :) also i am so sorry about all the angst

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, [Ch. 6], Ch. 7, Ch. 8

Chapter 6: Tearing

The afternoon sun filtered through his window shade and cast his room in its warm glow, but Anakin was too busy with his notes on his desk to notice. He needed something to do with his hands, just to keep himself focused, to keep his thoughts from wandering to you. To answer a practice problem, he was trying to find a specific case of heat diffusion the class had discussed--somewhere in October, he thought, but he wasn't quite sure. His desk was already messy before he began studying, but he was making it even worse with a paper thrown here, a staple there.

His eyes scanned the paper this way and that, trying to absorb any iota of information, but the words were slippery, wily things that wriggled out of his grasp. In the end, it turned out he had flipped past the page several times without seeing what he needed, and he finally found it on his fifth pass. Subconsciously, he dug his nails into his palms in frustration. Why couldn't he work? Why were you doing this to him?

His phone chimed, a text from his mom. Hey, how are finals? Doing okay?

For a few days, he'd been ducking questions about whether he was sleeping or eating enough, because he knew she'd be disappointed with his answers. He was running out of ways to change the subject in phone calls, and he knew she was catching on. Anakin decided he should probably respond.

yeah, really stressed about one of them, rest are fine. thesis going ok.

A second later, his phone lit up again.

Good luck. I'm so proud of you, Anakin, no matter what. As soon as he read it, he dropped his head into his hands. His forehead was clammy under his fingers. Of course she was proud of him unconditionally. He knew that. But he knew that he would be even prouder if he won. If he got a 4.0 this semester. Once, after he said something like that to Ahsoka, she looked at him with that knowing expression only she could produce, and asked him if his mom had ever said anything like that. Technically, no, he conceded, but he couldn't let her down.

He just felt so stupid right now, looking at the pages blanketing his desk. He'd been sitting over them for too long, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and stretch or take a break. He couldn't bring himself to do anything, really, let alone focus. So he was trapped. All he could do was just sit there, drink his Red Bull, and kind of review until he could destroy this exam next week.

Anakin decided to try another practice problem. Maybe that would make it click.

The surface tension of liquid argon is given by--

His phone buzzed against the desk. Putting it on loud was a bad idea, and he knew it. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse. It was probably his mom, saying something else. Or, he hoped as his heart jumped, maybe you were coming from the lab early and wanted to meet and study. Or hook up. Or just talk. Whatever, as long as it didn't involve his textbook. His phone buzzed again. And again.

He gave in and opened it. It was you, he found, and he grinned like a lunatic, but caught himself. Then again, he was alone, so it didn't matter, really.

But then he read your texts.

Where are you We need to talk Now

He typed back immediately, his fingers flying faster than he thought they could.

in my room is everything ok?

He looked at the screen, saw the bubbles pop up that meant you were typing, then watched as they disappeared. Anakin was frozen, his phone in his hand. We need to talk could just have been a poor phrasing on your part, right? It didn't mean what he thought it did, right? He could deny it only for about five more seconds, when the little bubbles didn't return.

Fuck. Anakin let loose a string of curses and dropped his phone on his desk. He couldn't think of a single thing that would warrant ending… whatever the two of you had. But maybe you'd realized that he was doing a lot more than what fuckbuddies (fuckenemies?) should do, that he was an absolute wreck for you, and had been for a long time.

The caffeine was getting to him, and his leg was bouncing so quickly that he swore his downstairs neighbor would submit a noise complaint. His mind started racing with all the things he never would have told you, the things that would go unsaid if you ended what the two of you were doing. He'd never tell you that he had two dogs growing up, strays, or that his least favorite flavor of Skittles was orange. He'd never tell you that he was pretty sure that he hadn't felt this way about anyone, ever, and that he had laid awake for the past two nights thinking about how, if at all, he would tell you.

Ahsoka's voice echoed in his ears, wisps of sound urging him to just say something. His mind was racing, a million trains of thought all colliding at once. He should just tell you. He'd never learn your favorite kind of cereal. He hadn't responded to his mom, fuck. He regretted having that Red Bull. He'd never tell you that he called you baby during sex because he wanted to say it other times, too. The answer to that thermo question was probably 36 Joules. He'd never tell you that if you called him a pet name he'd melt and let you win any competition because nothing would matter anymore.

But that was precisely why he hadn't told you how he felt. Because if you felt the same way about him, that would be so much better than any amount of money or award. And that wasn't the kind of person he could be.

He'd spent so long training to control that wild hurricane of emotions that pulled him through everyday life. Anakin channeled it into perfectly neat parallelized circuits and technically exquisite poomsae, but around you it all let loose, angry and passionate and just so much.

It was terrifying. You were terrifying. And there was a selfish part of him that said that he deserved to let all those feelings loose for once. To feel as much as he wanted to feel because, goddammit, he was so tired of control.

But Anakin was a lot. A handful, his teachers always said. It was what ended his previous relationship, what drove Padme away. Would it drive you away, too?

If you walked up to him in two minutes and asked him what the two of you were, if it was just casual or something more, would he have the self-control not to blurt out exactly what he was thinking? His stomach flipped at the idea of you leaving the room, leaving his life, without knowing how he felt.

You walking away from him and disappearing into another part of the country after graduation would kill him. He was pretty sure that seeing you at a reunion in five years with someone on your arm, some beautiful person who you had never hated, would smite him on the spot.

He imagined himself six months from now, when the thesis was over. What would that Anakin want for himself? Would he let himself say something? Fuck it all, he would say. And he was right.

If you were going to end things, he was going to get this off his chest. He had to. He wasn't sure he could live with himself if he didn't.

The sound of knuckles on wood cut through the silent room like a dagger through his heart. One, two, three seconds passed as he sat in his desk chair, mind totally blank. He tried to produce a coherent feeling or, if he was lucky, an entire thought, but he came up empty.

Before, it was all something nebulous, something he could just worry about. Something he could stress about. Now, it was real. You were behind that door, and you needed to talk. And there was no escaping that. With heavy legs, he dragged himself to the door.

Anakin pretended not to notice that his hand was shaking when he wrapped it around the doorknob.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The bus ride back to your dorm had been uneventful, other than the way you were staring daggers into the skull of some poor guy in front of you. He had the good sense to not turn around.

Anakin Skywalker is a thief. You clenched your fists, and you could barely feel the sting of your nails in your palms. Barriss wasn't one to lie, based on the past three years you'd spent with her. She told you the facts right after: she overheard one of the graduate students--probably Obi-Wan, but she didn't know who, just some vaguely hot older guy, she said--telling Anakin his idea for a thesis. And then Anakin ran with it.

If she was right, that changed everything. If Anakin really didn't come up with his own idea, that meant he had rigged the competition. He had a leg up this whole time. He really was exactly what you had thought for years. The golden boy of the department who had everything handed to him. And while you'd labored over choosing the perfect, most viable but impressive idea, he had just skipped right over that step. You'd cried over how hard it was to find a good idea, struggled for weeks on end last year, just trying to make something good, let alone great. And he was already weeks ahead of you in the competition.

All of his sweet gestures--staying with you in bed, holding hands in the library, getting you drinks--were suddenly less sweet. Last year, he was in the thesis lab with you, when he was working on his proposal, watching you go through ideas and get upset when they didn't work, and he knew that. And he never told you about where his idea came from, even when you were getting closer. He probably knew it would piss you off, and he still didn't tell you. He'd hidden it from you.

You didn't know if that hurt more or less than the unfairness of his advantage.

The bus slowed to a stop in front of your dorm, and you hopped off, then dashed to the elevator.

You just wanted him to tell you that Barriss was crazy, or misheard. Or anything. Anything to make it not true.

The elevator ride was agony as it whizzed up to his floor.

At his door, you hesitated. If you entered and fought, that made this real. So, so real. The second you walked through that door, everything between the two of you might change.

But you were too furious not to knock. Silence hung for a few seconds before you could hear the door unlock.

Anakin opened it to you, looking unfairly hot. Rage ripped through you as he looked at you with open affection, gesturing to enter his room, like nothing had changed. Like he wasn't lying to you all this time. You stormed in quickly.

"Anakin, I need you to be honest with me." Your voice came out tighter than you wanted as you searched his face for a reaction. He closed the door, then came to stand in front of you.

"I'm always honest with you," Anakin replied earnestly, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he forced a small smile.

You didn't smile back. "How did you come up with the idea for your project?"

"What?" Anakin blinked, caught off guard. He let out a breathy chuckle. "That--that's what you wanted to talk about?"

"Well?" You pressed, crossing your arms. The edge in your voice was obvious, cutting. You could see Anakin go through the stages of realizing what you might mean, and your stomach started to sink even deeper.

Anakin sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I--Really? Okay, fine. There aren't currently any microsurgery tools that mimic human hands. They're all pincers. So I wanted to make one." Your gaze narrowed.

"And you're saying Obi-Wan had nothing to do with it?"

"What are you talking about?" It was probably supposed to sound confused, but it came out more scared. You knew him well enough to tell. God, he was infuriating.

"Did you or did you not get your idea from Obi-Wan?" The words came out like tiny daggers, sharpened steel that you spat at him. His face fell, and you could see the moment that he knew you knew.

"Look, it's not like that," Anakin said, his arms falling to his sides. His eyes were suddenly avoiding yours, like his desk suddenly contained some information he desperately needed, or, preferably an escape hatch.

"Then what is it like?" You shot back, your heart racing. You stepped closer, trying to find an answer in his furrowed eyebrows. "Why can't you just say no?"

Anakin's jaw clenched, and he was obviously searching for the right words. Words that wouldn't piss you off, probably. "Because Obi-Wan helped, I guess."

"You guess?!" Your voice cracked, incredulous.

"I mean--look." Anakin raised his hands defensively. "Sure, Obi-Wan put me on the path to it. But every second in the lab since then has been me. My design, my coding."

"What do you mean put you on the path? You mean he gave you the idea, don't you?" Your frustration with him was boiling over. Even now, he was defending himself, trying to evade this. Justifying. It drove you crazy.

Anakin hesitated, his words faltering. "I--It's not--"

"Are you seriously about to say that it's not that simple or something?" You interrupted, your voice shaking. You threw your hands up, your fury finally reaching its peak. "Because, from here, it looks simple. Like you stole your whole fucking thesis idea!"

"That's not true!" Anakin snapped, his voice louder now. It wasn't the same kind of anger you were used to seeing from him, it was defensive, almost panicked. "Obi-Wan, he just, he suggested I look at applying an old project of mine to microsurgery. And he was right. So, I guess, technically, if you're looking at it like that--sure. He gave me the idea."

You stared at him, his words sinking in. His admission hung between you like a guillotine, its rope finally snapped. The air felt tight, like you were ten thousand miles above sea level and there wasn't enough oxygen to keep you afloat.

Anakin shifted again, his anger gone, his voice softer, pleading. "It's like… I don't know. I guess I feel guilty about it. But I really needed to submit something that day, or I couldn't enter into the competition at all. It was the rules. If I don't do a thesis… I--I don't know. I just had to. And I figured I'd just use that temporarily, and pivot as soon as it was approved, It was in the end of junior spring, and I just couldn't find a topic that worked. That idea I had about hand prosthetics didn't pan out, and I was telling Obi-Wan about it in the lab, and he told me I should look at microsurgery, 'cause they have a lot of the same issues--calibrating movement to user input, holding up to wear and tear, dealing with friction and joint movement--and that I should do my thesis on it."

His eyes finally met yours again, so deep and blue that it almost made you reconsider. Almost. He was pleading, begging you to understand. "So, yeah, I submitted an early version of the idea Obi-Wan gave me. But every second of design, build, everything was me. It's my work."

You stood frozen, silent. After a few long beats, Anakin started to fidget, his hands wringing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"If I could go back, I'd do something else. Anything else." Anakin's voice wavered, and his shoulders slumped under the weight of his guilt. "I just--I didn't know what else to do. I needed to submit something, anything. I need to win this," he finished, his voice trailing off.

The anguish over being proven right was something you didn't expect. You should have felt vindicated, that you were actually right all along about him. You should have hated him. But instead, you could feel your heart breaking, like a marionette with its strings cut, slumped over and lifeless. If he had just admitted it to you himself, maybe you could get over this. Maybe. But the fact that he hid it from you cut like a knife. Tears welled in your eyes, and your throat was drier than you'd ever felt it. The words fell from your lips softly, like you could barely get them out.

"How could you?" You felt like you'd never known him, like the person in front of you was a stranger. How could he be both this person, and the one who would keep you warm at night?

Anakin noticed the coldness of your gaze, and it gutted him. Anakin's breath caught, and you could see him shatter in real time. His cheek twitched, right under his scar, and you could swear you saw his eyes start to fill with tears. His hands were shaking where they were clasped together, and you were sure he was leaving indents with his nails. His shoulders shook under his panicked breaths.

He didn't speak for several long seconds, his mouth tugging this way and that as he tried to think of something, anything, to say.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" He asked as he stepped toward you, trying to seek reassurance to keep him from falling apart. But you couldn't give it. You didn't even know him anymore.

"I--" you opened your mouth, hesitating, before you restarted, "I don't know." Your voice cracked, but you hardened it. "I didn't before, but now I'm not so sure."

Anakin took another step closer, reaching out with his shaking hands as if to touch you, but you backed away. His face flushed even more, hurt and frustration jumping across his features. It made you even more angry. "This is so fucking unfair, and you just--you just let it happen."

He said your name, trying to jump in, but your anger surged, and it drowned him out.

"I spent weeks getting my idea just right." Each words was more brutal than the last. "Weeks. And you got everything spoon-fed to you. Everything I worked for--and you just took it from someone."

Anakin flinched like you had struck him, but you were far from done.

"I thought I knew you, I thought I was wrong about you this whole time," you spat, your fists clenching at your sides, "But I was right all along. You're just a fucking cheater."

A tear slipped down the side of his cheek as you continued. Your voice shook as you admitted to him, and to yourself, what the worst part really was. "And you didn't even have the decency to tell me. And that makes you a fucking asshole."

He shook his head, his eyes stinging as he started to speak. "No, please, it's not--"

"Stop it!" You shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. Anakin stood frozen, his outstretched hand falling limply to his side. Your breath rushed through your nose and your pulse beat in your ears. You couldn't even see him anymore through the tears, but you refused to let them fall. To let him see you cry.

He said your name one more time, begging, pleading. For a moment, you were tempted, but the hurt was too big to ignore.

Your voice was cold, distant. "Get away from me," you ordered. Your back was rigid with anger and hurt. "And leave me the fuck alone."

Without waiting for him to respond, you stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

You stalked down the hall as quickly as you could, ignoring the buzzing in your pocket as the tears you were holding back finally poured down your cheeks. You didn't even have the energy to wipe them away, you just let them fall while you punched the button for the elevator.

Only when the door closed, and you pulled out your phone to call Ahsoka, did you see his messages.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

They were all sent minutes apart. You could hear his voice reading them, desperate and thick with tears. Even though you were angry, angrier than you had ever been at him, the idea of him crying still made your chest ache. And then it made you feel vindicated. But then it made you feel horrible again.

You arrived back to the lobby, then crossed the building to the other elevator bank, trying to avoid the awkward gazes the students passing by gave you. You sniffled wetly, wiping away your tears, as you ran up the two flights of steps that brought you to your room. You unlocked the door as quickly as you could, then hid inside.

Your phone buzzed again.

i understand that you don't want to talk, but the second you're ready, i'll be here. i'll always be here.

The words made you sob loudly, and you were thankful for a moment that Ahsoka wasn't home. Until you saw the text, it hadn't hit you that this was the last time you'd talk for a while. You couldn't even remember the last kiss you two had shared. The library? Was that the kiss you wanted this to end on? You'd never see his half-lidded eyes as he worshipped you, never hear him call you baby again.

Why did he have to go and fuck it all up? You asked yourself, sobs wracking your body as you slid down the door. You couldn't tell if you were more sad or angry, but you were definitely heartbroken. Lately, his casual touches, his affection, the way you slept together every night, it was starting to feel like more. But it was all gone now.

You had been numbed with caffeine and stress, but the past week, you felt like you were soaring every time he touched you. Every time he gave you that intense look he always did.

But the two of you were just hooking up. It wasn't supposed to be anything more, and you never thought you'd feel the pull to be with him when you weren't fucking, but it was like gravity. Even now, you wanted him to comfort you. Not someone, but him.

The realization that you had feelings for him hit you like a truck. All the breath was gone from your lungs, gone to some other dimension.

You liked Anakin Skywalker. Even though he was an asshole. Even though he'd hurt you. But those feelings didn't end just because whatever you were had ended, they didn't leave you alone.

You could have been his girlfriend if he hadn't hidden this from you. And that was the last nail in the coffin that made you break down fully.

You sat there, crying, sobbing, wailing, for at least another half hour before you dragged yourself to the shower. It made you feel the tiniest bit better to have your hair clean, your tears scrubbed off your face until the skin went sensitive and ruddy. When the water turned off, it was cold, and you relished the shock to your system.

And then, you started the process of getting over him. You knew you had to do it eventually, and you only had to get through finals before you could go home and forget all about him. Come January, when you next saw him in the lab, it'd be like seeing any other classmate.

That thought was enough to make you start crying again while you stood in the towel you stole from your house. Your tears mingled with the water from the shower, and it was enough to let you pretend that you weren't crying, that becoming strangers with Anakin didn't kill you inside.

You promised yourself that this would be the last time you cried this semester. That night, if you felt the threat of tears, you just threw yourself harder into whatever you were studying. There was nothing else you could do.

At the thermo exam two days later, you walked in later than you usually would for a final that was this important. When you slipped into the class, two minutes before they started passing out test papers, you spotted Anakin in the corner. Because of course you did. Your eyes hadn't stopped finding him in every photo, in every room. He had always been magnetic, and, just because you weren't together anymore didn't mean that stopped. And he was looking right at you.

His gaze ripped through you with some mix of desperation, affection, and sorrow. Anakin looked, in one word, horrible. His eyes were sunken in, red and swollen from crying. Most people would not have noticed, but you knew him too well. His dark circles had come back with a vengeance, like fresh bruises on his otherwise smooth and clear skin. His mouth twitched when he looked at you, like he was going to say something, but he stayed silent as his eyes followed your path.

Throughout the exam, you could feel his eyes on you a couple of times, but you didn't allow yourself to turn around and look. You let the calm of equations and math wash over you, and soon there was nothing but the test. The questions and the precise way you wrote Greek letters in the blue book lulled you into a state of calm you desperately needed.

When you handed in your exam, you allowed yourself another look at Anakin, and then you left the building. You didn't see him before you went on break two days later.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Two days before break, he saw you again. He hadn't changed his habits, still studied in the dining hall and had meals there, sometimes went to the library, and he secretly hoped, thrummed with anticipation, that maybe, just maybe, you'd be there too. That maybe you'd see him and realize you wanted to talk it out. That, obviously, did not happen. He spent an embarrassing amount of time awake, because you haunted his dreams whenever they came. The disgusted look on your face and the words I was right all along, you're a fucking asshole echoed in the back of his eyelids and his mind's eye whenever he laid down. So, he stayed up. More time to study, right?

He spent most of those 48 hours trying not to cry and failing miserably. Even when he broke up with Padme, it wasn't like this. He was angry, indignant, and, of course, sad, but it was the kind of sadness that settled deep on his shoulders and dulled the world around him. It wasn't the kind of sadness that wrenched sobs from his chest whenever he wasn't careful. It wasn't the kind of sadness that made him regret ever going to this college, ever meeting you.

Ahsoka cast him a funny look at him one night, when he fell asleep in a common room. She gently shook him awake, and noticed the redness rimming his eyes, and the way his hands shook from too much caffeine. She gave him a hug and made him promise to sleep tonight.

He did, and that was the night before the test. Every muscle and joint screamed in protest as he dragged himself from his bed. He arrived fifteen minutes early, just to make sure he got a good seat, and then his head kept swiveling like an owl. Every time the click of the doors opening echoed through the nearly empty lecture hall, he locked onto the person entering. He was pretty sure he'd accidentally given glares to at least four poor souls before you finally entered.

He resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably failed the exam right then.

You were even prettier than he remembered, and the depth of your eyes when you stared at him was enough to make him shudder. Even now, he'd give anything to be with you again. When you sat down and didn't look at him again for the next three hours, he felt bits of his heart break off and get trampled under equations about heat diffusion and air pressure. You turned in your test, and then left, and he looked after you longingly. His eyes snapped back to his paper when he got a weird look from the TA.

He turned in his exam paper, rushed home, and promptly passed out on his bed. You came to him in his dreams, of course. Naked in his arms, lips pliant and wanting under him. The way your tongue peeked out when you were too hard at work, or the shimmer of your eyes when he made you laugh. The betrayal on your face. Get away from me.

He spent the rest of finals in a fugue state, doing tasks and exams because he was supposed to. Then, finally, the last one passed, and he was finally released to go home. He hadn't seen you since the exam, and that was probably better for him, he reasoned.

On day 1 of break, Anakin drove the whole day and listened to absolutely depressing music the whole time. He pulled over once and, in a fit of rage, smacked the steering wheel a few times. How could he be so stupid? How was he this much of an idiot? He sat at the rest stop for another fifteen minutes, his sweaty forehead on the steering wheel. Five hours later, when he arrived home late in the evening, he hugged his mom. Everything felt a little bit better after that. He had dinner with Shmi and Cliegg, even though all he wanted to do was lay in bed and sulk. He fell asleep quickly--he was too exhausted to stay up torturing himself with what could have been.

On day 2 of break, he lay in bed and just generally moped around. He could never be still for long, so that meant getting up to eat snacks, flicking through TV shows listlessly, and trying not to look at the texts you two had exchanged. He only cried twice, once at the thought that you'd never meet his mom, and the other at the memory of your body in his arms as he fell asleep. Both reduced him to hot, silent tears.

On day 3 of break, he did yard work and drove by his old dojang to say hi to his high school coach. He ended up agreeing to teach some lessons over break to avoid having to sit at home alone with his thoughts for three entire weeks. Plus, the money was good. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting that thesis prize at all, at this rate. He only cried once, at night, when he thought about having to watch you work in the thesis lab without speaking to you. He wouldn't cross that boundary. You already knew he wanted to talk, and you hadn't texted him back.

On days 4-9, he taught three hours of lessons a day. It was calming, familiar. He only had to splash cold water in his face to avoid getting too upset two or three times per day, but the undercurrent of wondering what you were doing never stopped torturing him. He hadn't touched himself in at least two weeks, and he regularly had to stop his thoughts from drifting away to the last time he was inside you. Every time it happened at home, in bed, he got up and took a cold shower. It served him right. At the end of the week, he went to the mall and bought his mom a Christmas present with the money he earned. Just because he knew his mom wanted to blend their family better, he picked out something small he could afford for Cliegg, Owen, and Beru, too.

On day 10, it was Christmas Eve, so everything was closed. There was nothing to do, so he answered a few emails from Professor Jinn, cleaned the oven, and helped his mom prepare for Christmas dinner. There were files on his device he had prepared specifically to work on his thesis over break, but his project made him nauseous. He'd give it all back for a chance to start over. He'd get a B on his thesis if it would make this pain stop. He didn't touch the files, and, that night, when he finally gave in to the temptation to see if you'd posted anything on social media, he didn't touch his cock, either, even though just an image of you was enough to drive him wild at that point.

On day 11, it was Christmas, and he woke up at 4am in his bed, as hard as a rock. Anakin spent an hour tossing and turning and begging his body to just let him sleep, but, eventually he gave in. It was Christmas, right? He deserved a present. When he closed his eyes, he didn't even try to think of someone else. It was you. It had been for a while. Your little noises as he kissed up your neck, the scrunch of your eyebrows right as you came, and the tight grip of your pussy around him when he buried himself to the hilt inside you were enough to make him cum all over his hand within a minute. He found it embarrassing, honestly, that you had this effect on him. Anakin fell asleep quickly and tried not to feel too gross about what he'd done.

On day 11, attempt 2, he woke up around 11, right before lunch, and came down to wish his mother and Cliegg a merry Christmas. Beru and Owen were supposed to come for dinner, but, this morning, it was just the three of them. Anakin had no particular yearning for Cliegg to be a father figure, he just wanted his mom to be happy. If Cliegg did that, then he'd watch endless movies with the two of them, or get Cliegg a present. But if she didn't want to be with him anymore, Anakin wasn't sure he'd miss him. Their second anniversary was in three weeks, and it was a shock that it had been that much time already. When dinner rolled around, and he greeted Owen and Beru awkwardly, not sure what a person is supposed to say to a newly-acquired sibling. He'd seen them a sum total of maybe ten times, almost all of which had to do with the wedding, so they were in how-was-school and how's-the-new-job and gosh-the-winter-has-been-brutal territory. When Anakin gave them their presents, they seemed overjoyed. He'd gotten them matching scarves, each with their first initial embroidered onto it. It was a miracle they had them in stock at the mall, he thought, but the present seemed to hit the right spot. Cliegg got the aforementioned fishing pole, something his mom had told him he was prattling on about, and he got his mom a beautiful new winter coat. She had been mending hers for years, and water and snow would soak right through it, but when he saw the beautiful down puffer coat in the store window, he knew she'd love it. He was right.

Cliegg got him a Laser Distance Measure, which must have cost a pretty penny, and Owen and Beru got him various engineering gadgets (a nice mechanical pencil for technical drawings and a cable carrying case, respectively). His mother's gift, though, was something he'd never be able to forgive. She had bought him a beautiful, fresh Raspberry Pi set, with 8 GB of RAM. It wasn't the most expensive thing in the world, but the $150 or $200 that it did cost her was enough to make him tear up. He'd mentioned months ago that he was thinking of getting one for some personal projects, something for his portfolio, and she bought it. He had the good sense not to say anything like You aren't supposed to get me presents for Christmas and crushed her in a hug, the kind that whispered I know how much this is worth, and I'm so lucky you're my mom. For a second, he was worried he would cry when he saw the crow's feet appear by her eyes, and he felt how thin the skin on her hands had gotten. When had she gotten so much older? For a terrifying moment, he realized he'd have to live without her one day, but then Cliegg made some comment about how he'd made hot cocoa, and they all gathered around the living room to chat. As the last tendrils of sunlight fell beneath the swath of trees in their backyard, he laughed at something Owen had said, and he felt the tiniest bit less alone. Like maybe it didn't matter if he got an A in thermo or had the best thesis in his year. The notion left him quickly.

On days 12-17, the warm feeling had subsided, and all he could think about was what you were doing. Whether you were moving on, or if you still felt the same way he did. If you wanted him again. The fantasy of you seeing him again and realizing that, oh, actually, you wanted to work it out, and also kiss him, inevitably ended with his hand on his cock and cum on his stomach, then regret and shame for about an hour afterward. Once the studio had reopened, he kept teaching there, but with more hours this time. Also, Anakin could finally open the folder on his computer named Thesis without cringing at it, but barely. His heart still skipped about four beats when he thought about how he'd have to see you practically every day. He pushed thoughts like that from his mind as much as he could. No point in torturing himself more than the actual semester would.

Day 18 was New Year's Eve. He went to a party hosted by some of his high school friends, some rager at a frat house. He just wanted to get drunk, honestly, and this seemed like a great excuse. It was sticky and hot even right outside the door, but the sweaty blast of steam that hit him when someone opened it turned his stomach. But the beer was free, so he wouldn't complain too much. A couple of times, he noticed a girl checking him out over the bone-shaking bass. He might have made a move, if he were a different person. If any one of them was you, or had your smile, or your eyes. As soon as he noticed something that was too different from you, he averted his gaze. They were all cute, he supposed, but that didn't matter. They weren't you. When the countdown started, Anakin retreated, not interested in being pulled into some kiss that stunk of beer. Instead, despite knowing he'd regret it, he sent you a text. happy new year, it read. He blamed the tequila, and went back into the fray of cheering people.

From days 19-24, Anakin kept on keeping. Dishes, teaching, occasional progress on his thesis. He submitted over 20 job applications. Sometime in the week, in his daily rehashing of all your messages, he noticed the read receipt had popped up on his text from New Year's Eve, and he cursed himself. He was cursing himself a lot lately. Especially when he promised he wouldn't jerk off over you, but it always ended up happening. The subtle rock of his hips against the mattress when he thought of you, grinding the hard flesh against the soft material, then the sticky warmth of release and the rush of regret that always came with it. The heat of the shower made him hard when he thought about how he'd always wanted to try fucking in the shower, more specifically, fucking you in the shower. He really shouldn't, he reasoned while his hand pumped his dick.

Day 25 was spent driving again, after he gave his mom a big hug and threw his suitcase in the car. Despite himself, he realized that he was no more over you than he had been on his drive to his house. The fact that he would see you tomorrow still made him perk up and wilt at the same time. In a short twenty-four hours, you'd be real, three-dimensional in front of him again. He wasn't sure what would happen--would you kiss him? Slap him? Combust? He could never tell with you. He wondered if you'd cut your hair over break, or if you'd talked to Ahsoka about him. Whatever fantasies he'd been nursing, they were all going to be proven or disproven tomorrow. So he had to use the hour before he arrived on campus to imagine, as hard as he could, that you were in the passenger seat. That you were his girlfriend. That you had just come from meeting his mom, who had shown you a bunch of truly humiliating baby pictures and had whispered to him that she liked you when you had gone to the bathroom. For the rest of the night, that was the reality he lived in.

You had compared schedules last semester, before things got weird, and you shared only two classes, both of which were on Mondays and Wednesdays. At 10:30, you'd both be in Unsupervised Learning, then at 2:30, you'd both take Dynamic Systems and Controls. When he woke up at 8:30, he showered, then tried to wipe the tiredness from his eyes. He put on a shirt he knew you loved (you'd remarked on how well it fit him, and he didn't see it, but you did, and that was all that mattered) and his most comfortable jeans and hoodie. He secretly hoped you were doing the same kind of preening at home, trying to look good for him, but he didn't let the thought take up too much room in his mind.

At 10:25, when he walked into the lecture hall, he saw you instantly. Time stopped as he felt like someone had just gotten a particularly good hit to his solar plexus, and his whole body was responding, out of breath and weak and dizzy all at the same time. You were in the third row, to the left-hand side of the seats, and you looked more gorgeous than he remembered. How didn't he spend the whole break fantasizing about the way your hair shone or the curve of your neck? Seconds started ticking by again when he realized he was blocking the path to the seats, much to the anger of the group of people behind him. He walked down the steps to the second row like everything was normal, then positioned himself on the other side of the lecture hall. He kept his eyes firmly not trained on you for as long as he could, and, when the professor started droning, he turned to look at you, really look at you.

You had put on just a touch of makeup, something he'd noticed years ago that you always did on the first day of class. It suited you, and you looked well-rested and happy. Like you didn't miss him at all. It gutted him like a fish on the chopping block. What was wrong with him? How could he let you get away?

He turned back to the professor, pretending to be interested in the syllabus. When class ended, by the time he packed up his things, you had gone.

The second class was a repeat of the first, only in a smaller lecture hall. He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but he snuck glances. He was only human.

He didn't go into the lab for the week, mainly because he was almost done with build and was spending most of his time on securing materials for testing. They had their first practice that Monday, so he got dressed and headed over to the Athletic Center, where he grounded himself in the ritual, the calming power of it all. It was amazing to see Rex and Ahsoka again. They always made him smile, something he'd been missing over the break.

Later that week, Ahsoka invited him to your room to talk about that semester's competitions. He hesitated the appropriate amount of time before he accepted. The hallway to your room was achingly familiar, just like he'd seen it in his dreams. Only Ahsoka was home, so she wasted no time before interrogating him about what happened with the two of you.

When he told her the general gist, she had the good decency to be honest and tell him that he was kind of being an asshole by not mentioning it, but that it was normal to get advice from professors and other students. It wasn't ideal for it to be as explicitly grabbed, sure, but the point still stood.

By the time the door opened and you came in (his mind raced--from a date? from class? from some other part of your life that he would never come to know?), Anakin and Ahsoka were discussing taekwondo logistics. You looked gorgeous in the cozy cable-knit sweater you had on, and he hoped against all hope that he wasn't staring the way he thought he was.

You looked shocked for a good second before smiling awkwardly with a little "hey." You retreated to your room almost instantly, and Anakin felt a pit open up, wondering if he'd made you uncomfortable. It wasn't his fault, honestly, but he still felt guilty. He left an hour afterward.

Was this his fate? To watch you from a middle distance as you lived your life? He was trapped, pinned down like a bug, reading into everything he saw. If you were in a four-block radius, his eyes would find you. They always would. In class, he had to stop himself from turning toward you, from studying your features and trying to read anything from them. He never could.

Anakin was still fucking haunted by you, especially now that he was on campus. Everything reminded him of you. The boba place, every inch of your dorm, the emptiness in his mattress. He knew he was hallucinating when he thought he spied you at practice one day, just a wisp of hair in the corner of the room, but, by the time he did a double take, there was only empty floor there.

On Thursday, he got a text from Ahsoka.

Party tomorrow at Cody's. You should come, she had written. He didn't really, actually feel like partying. But he went anyway. Maybe he could spend enough time with his friends to forget about you.

He threw on a nice shirt, some kind of button-up his mom had gotten him, cuffed the sleeves, and set off.

It was a standard-issue party. He'd been to plenty of them, so he figured was ready and prepared for what he'd see and feel. Bass in his eardrums so loud it shook the blood in his veins. Having to scream basic conversation over music. Cheap beer and a sticky floor. Enough heat that his hair would start curling more.

It felt like home. He entered, found Cody and Ahsoka quickly, promising to return after he grabbed a drink. Anakin made his way to the folding table crammed full of bottles, as well as some kind of vile jungle juice, and took two shots. Just enough to stop thinking about you, he hoped.

By the time he fought his way back to Cody and Ahsoka, he was feeling it. Rex had joined them in the meantime, and Anakin joined the little huddle. They were talking (read: yelling "what did you say?" over the music) about one of Cody's dates that week, and Anakin let himself slip into the familiar rhythm of his friends. It was nice, honestly. He only thought of you five or six times, which was a record low.

Then Ahsoka suggested they go get another drink, and, as the four of them pushed back toward the drinks station, he saw you.

You were fucking radiant, and the breath stalled in his chest. You had always been the only thing he ever wanted to look at in a room, even from sophomore year, when you began to piss him off more than anything, but right now, you were a supernova. And he was a moth. He felt his wings get burned off as he traced the curve of your jaw and acknowledged to himself that, yeah, he probably wasn't going to get over you until you were across state lines.

You were wearing some sinfully short, tight dress, which crept higher and higher up your thighs. He could tell you weren't wearing a bra, and something stirred inside of him.

But then he saw the guy standing next to you, leaning in to tell something to your ear. Anakin hated himself for the thought, but he instantly started comparing himself to the guy. What was Mr. Boat Shoes saying to you that made you tip your head back and laugh like that? He remembered when he used to do that, when he would make you throw your head back to do more than just laugh.

Anakin felt his jaw clench and his body start to shake with the same energy that he always had before competitions, coiled like a snake about to strike.

He knew it was a bad idea, he really did. But he was never one to resist bad ideas. He blamed the alcohol. It wasn't that you were his, or some misguided attempt at owning you, but he just couldn't watch this. He couldn't let this feeling tear him apart anymore. When you swatted the guy's chest playfully, Anakin felt his eye twitch, right under his scar. Oh hell no. But he shouldn't. It was your business.

Fuck it.

Anakin started pushing through the crowd, and then he saw the guy lean in, and he saw red.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!):

@skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @johnbassplayercutie @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck @sythethecarrot @lovrsm @ann4zw @gimmefood

[lisenberry]

The mountain is you

Ch. 2 - I don't know what it is that I'm climbing to

~2.4k

E/MDNI/18+

CW: BDSM negotiations, dom!Price, dom!Ghost, pain play

(Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4)

It’d been a while since John had spoken to his former lieutenant, and even longer since he’d seen him.  The last few years had passed in a fog, so it was a shock when he saw the familiar number come across his phone.  He only briefly hesitated before answering. 

Soap and Gaz texted him all the time.  Links of foolish videos on the clock app, and pictures of mysterious rashes on their body parts that they needed help identifying.

But Ghost wasn’t one to waste anyone’s time.  Whatever it was, it was important.  And as it turned out, he had a proposition for him.

“You need a project, Cap.  Something to keep you sharp.”

“Are you worried about me, Simon?”

“We all are.”

John had been the one to start Life Connect 141.  An opportunity that gave the lads a place to channel their post-combat restless energy in a way that wouldn’t get them a murder conviction or a stint in a maximum-security psych ward.  It kept them together as a team and gave them a purpose.  And the opportunity to launder some of the not-quite-above-board money they’d liberated over the course of their travels.

Some veterans of special ops worked with rescued pit bulls.  Others started fitness programs, backpacking guide schools, and preparedness training facilities.

His boys filled their own rewarding niche.  Even after John’s departure, the company had flourished and from what he could tell, they were all staying out of trouble.

Judging by Ghost’s concern, he was the one who was floundering.  A marriage to the wrong woman, and the subsequent messy divorce, had left him dangerously adrift.  He’d thought about returning to the work, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore.

“Just meet her.  Trust me.  You can decide then if you’re doing me a favor, or the other way around.”

And he did trust Ghost.  With his life.  And if anyone had been keeping track, he imagined the scales were just about even between who owed whom more.

In the end, he agreed to the meeting.  For no other reason than to see for himself what had one of the toughest, most resourceful bastards he’d ever known seeking his expertise. 

They’d been at the table for a half hour, going over your file and discussing the particulars when John glanced up to catch his first impression of you.  A breezy blouse and a long, colorful skirt.  You looked around the outside seating area but didn’t see them.

Or more likely, you didn’t recognize Ghost without his mask on, judging by the surprised laughter that met his ears a few seconds later.

“Ah, dove.  There you are.”  Simon grinned as he stood, pulling you into a friendly hug. 

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve never seen you without the mask before.  I’m trying to reconcile the picture in my head.  I’ll try not to stare.”  An endearingly warm smile lit up your face.

You weren’t at all what John had pictured, either.  He’d clearly have to adjust the conclusions he’d reached based on your file.  He’d read about your stressful, demanding job, your high intelligence and predilection for punishment, and he’d imagined someone harder.  Colder.

There was a notation in the margin on one of the pages that had stood out as well. 

Daddy issues??? Undisclosed but probable.

He made his own note to inquire further, suddenly anxious to know everything there was to know about you.

“The mask is an improvement, don’t you think?” Ghost shrugged.  Was he actually blushing? 

Surely it was just the heat of the sun or a trick of the light.

“It has its charms, but you have a very honest face.”  The way you laid your hand reassuringly on his lieutenant’s arm made John clear his throat and offer his own hand in greeting.

As cute as your connection was, you were there for him, and he noticed the way you’d nervously avoided meeting his gaze.  The way you’d chosen to cling instead to Simon, the devil you knew. 

He had no desire to forcibly extricate you from your bond with your previous Dom.  That wasn’t how it worked.  At best, John could match it.  Slowly.  If he did his job right, in time, you’d come to look at him with a similar trust.

“Nice to meet you,” your eyes finally flitted to his as he took your cool, smooth palm into his own. 

It was then that he felt it.  The twitchy, fevered thrill of a worthy mission.

“So, what does that file say about me?”  You sipped your pint, finding your throat suddenly dry and your forehead warm, and in need of something to do with your hands. 

Ghost had excused himself a short while before, after making the introductions and sharing a few stories of his and John’s time working together.   

You’d found being alone with him to be...intense.  He seemed impenetrable.

He didn’t look down at the folder, and kept it closed on the table.  His pen held between his two hands, contemplative and resolute.

“That you’re a pain slut.  With a high tolerance.”  His voice didn’t rise above his gruff, conversational tone, and you didn’t bother to look around at your fellow patrons seated near you.  With the din of the restaurant, they wouldn’t be able to hear.  “Does that bother you?”

“No.  It’s the truth.”  You didn’t have anything to hide.  Not from him at least.  Not if this was going to work.

“What is it about pain that you seek out?”  He crossed his arms over the table and leaned in closer.  Biceps bunching under his t-shirt.  Ghost had always worn a suit.  John looked like he came from a construction site.  Unshaven and slightly dangerous.

You didn't hate it.

“When it’s done right, there’s a moment right before it gets to be too much that my body starts to fight back.  As if to say, ‘Go on, I dare you.  Is that all you’ve got to give?’  And just then, right before I give in and quit, it’s the most powerful I’ve ever been.  The most alive.”

“It’s the rush then, is it?”  He studied you like a therapist.  And you felt like a patient.  Only this therapist’s job was to tie you up and make you cry.  And come.  And cry again.  The thought made you shudder inwardly with anticipation.   

“It doesn’t work for all pain.  It’s not the blood or the risk of injury.  I don’t get off at the thought of the dentist...” you trailed off with a light laugh, finding it easier to talk to him about this than you'd thought. “But sometimes, the more helpless I am, the stronger it feels.  There aren’t too many things you can do without thinking about it.  Against your will.  Beating, breathing, feeling.  There’s a freedom in it.  Again, if it’s done right.”

“You don’t like to think, then.  You’d rather be surprised?”

“I don’t mind surprises.  I like them, actually.  We don’t have to negotiate everything ahead of time, so long as it feels right in the scene.”

You finished off the last of your pint and smoothed the napkin that had caught to the condensation on the bottom.  A first date, a therapy session, and an interview all in one.  And yet it didn’t fill you with the same anxiety as it should.  It could’ve gone wrong in a hundred different ways, and yet the more you confided, the more you relaxed. 

“Talk to me about these hard lines.”  He opened your file, skimmed it, and moved his pen back and forth as if he was underlining something boldly.

“Always be honest with me about what you’re going to do.  Don’t play games or make me have to choose something in order to please you.  Keep me engaged, but if I have to make a decision it will take me out of it.”

“That’s important to know, thank you.”  He made another note on the page.  “It also says no choking, but with an asterisk next to it.  Care you elaborate?”

“When I was little, I had terrible asthma.  Life threatening at times.  It’s under control now, but not being able to breathe, or even the threat of it, doesn’t...” you paused, searching for the right word to convey your biggest fear, “arouse me.  Let’s just say.”

“I understand why it wouldn’t.”  No sympathetic indulgence, thankfully, just a solid nod of support. 

Could he relate?  You wondered what hard lines he had.  You couldn’t imagine anything scaring him. Ghost had reacted the same when you’d had this discussion.  No questions, no bargaining.  Just respect for your vulnerability.  Surprising, from two men who seemingly had none themselves.

It prompted you to delve in further, and leave no room for misunderstanding, just in case.

“No collars, no ribbons, bows, belts, neckties, your hands, anything please.”

“Neck is off limits.  Noted.” 

“You can still kiss me there, if that’s something you like.  Or you can slap me, to get my attention.  And if you need to move me around or hold me down, you can grab my hair.”

You punctuated the last with a helpful smile and a shrug of your shoulders.  His gaze seemed to find your neck then, perhaps contemplating what it’d be like to kiss it.  Did the thought bring him as much excitement as it did you?

“Fair enough.”  A contented grunt was all you received in response.

“You said that this would be a reciprocating agreement.  What do you want from me?”  The question that had been on your mind since Ghost had called you.

With him, you just paid him money.  That was your end of the deal.  Without payment, that left too much to your imagination and you’d let it run a bit wild. 

“I’ll tell you what I want, and when I want it.  Is that clear?  I won’t ask for your permission, and you’ll never have to wonder what I’m thinking.  I don’t hear yes and no, or green and yellow.  Red means take a break and try something else, and the safe word is a hard stop to call it a day.”

“Understood.  Thank you.”  It was a plan you could definitely work with.  “But what about you?  What do you hope to get out of this?”

“I like to be in charge.  Take care of things.  And do the hard things that need to be done.”

“And who takes care of you?”  A simple question, but he seemed to bristle at it.  Perhaps you’d pushed him too far, too soon. 

“Good little girls who listen and behave.”  He adjusted himself in his seat, straightening as if to get back some control.  “Let’s talk punishments.  No spanking, obviously.  You’ll enjoy it too much.”  His eyes seemed to darken in both amusement and desire.

No doubt proud of himself for changing the subject and redirecting the friendly interrogation.

“Hopefully I won’t displease you, but you could ignore me.  That will make me rethink my attitude real quick,” you replied, with an answering grin.

“Ignore you?  I think that would hurt me more than you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.  You liked that.  Probably said as much with the flood of heat to your cheeks and the breathless giggle that sounded so foreign to your ears. 

“I think we’ll get along just fine...John?”  You questioned what name he wanted to be called.

“Sir.  Just sir.”

On the day of your appointment, he texted you the location and the key code for the door lock.  You found the building easily, and stepped into the elevator, double checking the apartment number to be sure you were in the right place.

When the code worked on the door to the fifth floor, you entered to find that it was someone’s home. 

The office of Life Connect 141 was in a nondescript office space on the outskirts of Canary Wharf, not far from your office.  If anyone spotted you, you could use the excuse of taking a meeting or doing your due diligence on a property you were looking to liquidate.

This, on the other hand, was well off the beaten path.  A restored factory building in a neighborhood you weren’t familiar with, but appeared to be up and coming judging by the activity along the street.  You’d already noted a few restaurants to try on the short walk from the Tube station and filed them away to pick up something to eat on your way home. 

A flat of this size and builder quality must have cost a premium, or else the owner bought in cheap before the neighborhood began to blossom.  It was well-appointed and comfortable.  Floor to ceiling windows that opened to look just above the shorter buildings next door.  Privacy from looking directly at your neighbors, but still connected to the bustling down below.

Once inside, you followed his directions to the letter.  You’d arrived early, dimmed the lights and set your bag on the hook by the door.  Cell phone ringer turned off and your shoes in the basket in the hall.

"I’ll leave what I want you to wear on a chair, you’ll know which one.  Wear nothing else.  There will be a pillow on the floor, you’ll know which one.  You’ll greet me on it."

As you moved in past the entryway, the remaining room was an open concept.  A kitchen with an attached dining area, and a living space on the opposite side.  Two plush sofas and an assortment of chairs and tables.  You didn’t know what to expect.  A pleasure room, maybe, or a dungeon of racks and toys.

It was just a living room.

Any nerves you’d been holding onto dissolved when you spotted the fabric draped across the lapis lazuli velvet wing-backed armchair.  Was that going to be his seat?  It was large enough to hold both of you comfortably...if you were on his lap.  It was certainly a statement piece.

The outfit he’d chosen was a simple, pink silk backless slip dress.  Not cheap satin, but the softest, sheerest gossamer.  You shivered as you stripped from your street clothes and gently settled the confection over your skin.  It barely covered your ass as you folded your things and hid them out of sight.

You briefly warred with whether to leave your hair up or down, deciding on the former, before you finally took a deep breath to center yourself.  Whatever happened next was out of your control.

When your knees met with the pillow at the foot of The Chair, your mind emptied and you felt the tension that you’d been carrying for weeks start to fade.  

Just in time to hear the click of the front door.

[ch3rriewine]

Photo Booth Kissin' {P.P.}

summary: Peter's an awkward loverboy, but he's your awkard loverboy.

warnings: none i think just fluff :3, TASM!Peter Parker x reader hehe, no use of y/n, reader is kinda like super girly w the bows and sparkles idk

a/n: I HAVENT WRITTEN IN MONTHS SORRY here tho!

Peter’s life was boring—peaceful, but boring. Don’t get him wrong; being Spiderman is cool and all, but Peter Parker’s life could use some work. The most exciting thing that has happened to him recently was the time he got two yolks in one egg. Riveting stuff, right?

During another one of his literature classes that he doesn’t know why he took, he spots you. With a bow in your hair and a knit sweater falling over your figure, your head propped on your manicured hand while scribbling notes with the other. You sit in front of him and if Peter squints, he can see the small doodles littering the pages. Before he knows it, the professor announces that the lecture is done for the day. Peter panics; he wants to talk to you before you disappear and turn out to be a dream, but what would he even say? Doesn’t matter anymore since he chases after you to the door.

“Hey,” he says, looking a tad flushed after tripping over someone's water bottle.

“Oh, hi” you respond, your eyes a little widened at the sudden interaction.

“I, uh, I’m Peter” he say, sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take it and tell him your name. He repeats it in his head about a hundred times.

“I just, uhm, wanted to ask about…” he trails off, trying to remember if there were any assignments given. “The essay he said we had to do, yeah. When is it due again?” he hopes to any higher being that there was an essay due soon.

“Ah, yeah, it’s due next Monday” you reply, giving him a tight-lipped smile, ready to go back to your dorm.

“Cool, uhm, thanks! See you around, hopefully” with that, he bolts, leaving you confused and flushed. Hopefully

The cute boy in your class wants to see you around.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Two days later, Peter sees you again. It’s in the same class, and you’re as pretty as ever. He psyches himself up to sit next to you.

You look up from your laptop when he asks you if he can sit next to you. You nod, of course, and smile. He looks nervous, with fingers tapping on the table and cheeks a little red. It’s cute.

“Have you started on that essay?” you ask, trying to start conversation since it looks like he won’t.

“Huh? What essay? We have an essay?” he turns to face you, eyes wide.

“Yeah, the one you asked me about?” you laugh a little.

“Oh, no, I didn’t” his shoulders slump back down, and you smile at him.

“I didn’t either; I had other work to finish” he stares at you a little; it’s flattering, really. How shy he is around you. He barely knows you, but he’s convinced himself that you’re the greatest thing ever. He also may have looked up your instagram and fallen even harder as he looked at all your posts. Peter now knows what you ate at Thanksgiving 3 years ago.

“Same, I’m in STEM so you could imagine” he says, resting his head onto the table. Sleep deprivation a thing he is well acquainted with, unfortunately.

“STEM, wow, you must be smart then. Why’re you taking a classic lit class then?” Sure, you might’ve slipped in a compliment; it's not a crime to flirt a little. It takes Peter a few seconds to respond as he processes what you said, you think he’s smart.

“Uh, I was going through a phase with classic lit at the time, and I’ve been lazy to drop it. And, uh, I’m not that smart—pretty average actually. Like the most moderate person ever” He’s rambling and kind of lying. He’s doing really well in his other classes.

“Yeah? I think you’re pretty smart if you’re in STEM. Not everyday a guy is both pretty and smart.” His cheeks turn even redder, if possible, and he makes a sort of out of breath sound. “If you need any help with this class, I’d be happy to give you my notes on the book”

Jesus, you’re gonna kill the poor boy.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

From then on, you sit beside him and throw in some flirty comments while he struggles to reciprocate. It feels too good to be true, how you seem interested in him and how you eagerly talk to him after lectures, even giving hm your number to talk about “class”. He’s waiting for the day you ghost him.

“Hey, would you maybe want to, like, hang out? Like on a date or something? Or just as friends! Actually, yeah, just hang out as friends; forget I said date sorry,“ he flounders, waiting for the rejection. Oh God, he’s just messed up the whole friendship and you’re gonna think that he’s weird and a creep and-

“I’d love to go on a date, Peter,” you smile “I was waiting for you to ask.”

“Oh, great, is Saturday at 3 okay? I’ll meet you outside your building and we could walk to that arcade?” He asks, eyes hopeful.

“Saturday at 3 is great. I love arcades, but you have to help me with the claw machines” For someone so smart and handsome, he doesn’t let himself think people like him.

“See you Saturday, Peter” you tiptoe to kiss his cheek, leaving sticky residue from your sparkly gloss and walk to your next class. He stands in place, a little starstruck and a lot flustered. He leaves the lipgloss there.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Saturday finally comes, and now it’s your turn to be nervous. You’ve switched outfits countless times, your hair is out of place, and your makeup doesn’t seem to flatter you. You’ve settled on a pretty blue dress with tights to protect you from the small chill. Two little bows clipped into your hair and knit cardigan falling over your shoulders—makeup finally looking presentable enough with maybe a little too much glitter on your eyes, but whatever. Your phone chimes as you’re applying pink sparkly gloss, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

You throw your phone and lip gloss in your purse and bolt out the door. You spot him outside your building, as promised. He looks wonderful. Brown sweater and worn-in denim jeans—you can’t believe he’s so shy around you when he looks like that. He finally spots you, and wow, he thinks.

“Hey," he scolds himself for being so casual when he should be whisking you away to Italy, or something. He could’ve at least gotten you flowers.

“Hi, you look great,” you say in front of him, and seeing you up close is making him fall even harder, if possible.

“You look, wow, you’re just, wow” he can’t even believe you’re into him.

“Cmon, I wanna win some plushies,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He grips your hand harder and laces your fingers.

The walk is calm and the air is starting to get cool. You talk about class and a show you started. Peter listens intently, making mental notes about what you like and don’t like. Your hands stay intwined, and his thumb traces patterns on the back of your hand. He’s gotten more comfortable and less panicky in your presence, so you get to see his personality shine through. He’s incredibly funny. You can’t stop laughing on your way there, and he can’t stop thinking of more things to make you laugh.

The arcade is dark, with flashing lights from every game. Peter goes to buy some tokens, refusing your offer to pay half. Grabbing Peter’s hand and making a beeline for the claw machines, everyone knows they’re rigged, but you don’t care. You eagerly take the tokens and attempt to win the Kuromi plushie. After the 5th? 6th attempt? When the claw has dropped the plushie, you give up.

“Why do they do this to people! It’s false hope!” you whine to Peter as he laughs at your pout.

“Lemme try,” he nudges you over and puts in a token.

You watch with eyebrows furrowed as he wins it on his first attempt.

“What the hell, Peter?” you crouch to pull the plushie from the machine.

“What? Do you not like it?” He faces you, examining the stuffed, is she a rabbit? What animal even is Kuromi?

“I love her; just, how did you win it?” You look up at him incredulously. He must have some weird power that makes him win every claw machine.

“Oh, I don’t know; just position it right?” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in the process. You want to smooth them out with your fingers.

“Thank you!” you’re genuinely really excited over a cheap stuffed toy, not because you really wanted it, but because Peter won it for you. You wrap your arms around his neck in thanks. Peter freezes. He fees like a teenager at how he’s reacting to a hug of all things. He snaps back and hugs you back. You pull away to kiss his cheek. This is the second time you’ve kissed his cheek, and he doesn’t know how he’ll ever get used to it.

“Lets go play games, pretty boy,” pulling away and leaving Peter to gather his brain and follow along.

You watch as he plays Pac-Man; its silly, but you love his face when he’s focused. Brows furrowed and lips in a thin line. He really is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. And he’s infatuated with you! Of all people! You swear half the girls in the class have a crush on him, but he gets nervous around you. You play some air-hockey, which you won (he let you win), and he won you some more plushies and some candy at the infamous claw machines.

When the games get old, the two of you leave the building. The sun is setting at this point, and you’re dreading leaving him.

“Oh, look! There’s a photo booth!” you point, excitedly tugging on his arm. “We should take some pictures.” you drag him into the booth, both of your thighs squished together and his legs at an awkward angle. He feeds the machine a few bucks, and the screen starts to count down.

You put on a sickly sweet smile, scrunching your eyes while Peter smiles big with pearly white teeth on display. The second photo you lean into Peter and he wraps his arm around you, pulling your body close to his. The third photo, you go for it. You grab his face and kiss him. His hands stay in the air as the glitter on your lips transfers to his. You taste like vanilla. You pull away, a little anxious that he didn’t want it. Those thoughts get pushed away when he grabs the sides of your face and kisses you until you can’t think. His hands are warm and big covering your cheeks as his lips move against yours. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck once more and deepen the kiss. Your lips move together in tandem as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs, the movement comforting.

The fourth photo is blurry, and you walk out with all your lipgloss on Peter’s lips.

[animasola86]

Kinktober: The horny ghost

Notes: Another @kinktober2023 submission that I thought about while trying to fall asleep, where most of my ideas apparently come from, huh. And once again I spat this thing out in a few hours, while I normally sit and stare at empty pages when I try to write something with more plot. Oh well, if smut is what comes out of my mind, then so be it. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Richard Jackdaw x f!Ravenclaw x Sebastian Sallow

Genre: Smut

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Horny teenagers. Voyeurism. Masturbation. Spectrophilia.

Word count: 5.3k

Synopsis: Richard Jackdaw watches teenagers have sex and then stalks one of them for more. It is what it is.

Warning: Horny ghosts ahead. And even hornier girls. It's smut, beware!

-- can be read on AO3 too --

The horny ghost

They were at it again. Their grunts and moans filled the dimly lit room and caused him to break free from his daily daze of thinking about death. Richard Jackdaw watched the two students with interest, tilting his head slightly, not too much, no reason to lose it now when things got interesting.

The slapping of skin against skin got louder and faster as the boy kept thrusting vigorously into the girl who was sprawled on the table, her hands clutching the edges as her body shook and convulsed under what must be her third orgasm of that particular encounter.

Impressive. The ghost had seen these two many times before, mostly in this very classroom and each time he had watched them, he had felt both aroused and mildly jealous, wishing he could be the one to drive that girl into oblivion and back. But alas, his dick was as see-through as the rest of him and as much as he wanted to, he never would.

And he'd accepted that fate. Yet that didn't mean he couldn't still watch and work on himself, because thank Merlin he was still able to touch himself even in the afterlife – what a dreary existence it would have been otherwise. Surely the first decades he hadn't really felt the need to do so as he had been busy lamenting his own death, but once he had grown used to the fact that he was in fact dead and condemned to haunt the halls of Hogwarts for all eternity, he had made the best of it – and had started watching the students over the years.

Mostly the girls. Of course the girls. What else would you do given the opportunity to sneak into places you were not supposed to go? And as Hogwarts students were mostly accustomed to the ghosts floating by on a whim, most of them didn't really mind him. He was just watching after all, never engaging, just looking – and the things he saw would have made the blood rush through his cheeks – if his body still provided that function.

Over the years, girls would become much more bold than when he had been alive. More independent. And the things they did to their lovely little bodies...

Jackdaw sighed deeply, almost forgetting where he was for a moment as he remembered. Yet the couple was still going strong, moaning and grunting and indulging in nothing but pure lust, so caught up with it that they didn't notice his noises.

Especially that Slytherin boy was rather impressive. His stamina was immaculate. He'd give his little girl two to three mind-blowing orgasms before he focused on himself and when he did, the table beneath them would creak and threaten to break under the impact of his forceful thrusts.

And the girl... It had taken Jackdaw a bit to recognize her the first time he had caught them like this, but she was the Ravenclaw girl he had met on top of the Owlery, who had followed his riddle. And he had become quite fond of her, finding himself stalking the Ravenclaw tower more and more frequently. When he had first seen her entering this particular classroom with that green-clad boy, he had to admit: he had been quite jealous.

Yet the things that boy would do to her and the way she would be willing to do any of what he asked, had made the ghost appreciate this constellation. They were certainly a sight to behold. Doing it like rabbits, really, no better way to describe it. He'd seen them elsewhere as well, in dark hallways, in a corner of the library or further down in the basements of the Restricted section.

Sometimes they would disappear through hidden doors and only come out hours later, hair messy and cheeks flushed, and he could only imagine what they had been up to. He didn't need to imagine, he saw it right in front of him.

The girl was crouched on the edge of the table now, her arms wrapped around the boy's neck and her legs around his waist, as he slammed his hips against her so rapidly she could only moan in shallow puffs, her eyes closed and her head resting on his shoulder, clearly already driven to heights she would need some time to recover from.

This might be his chance, Jackdaw thought and gently floated from the dark corner he had been watching from towards the two students. He remained behind the boy, not wanting him to notice him, but he did want the girl to see him, know that he had been watching. And so he hovered slightly above them, waiting for her to open her eyes again. As she didn't, he dared to move a little closer and blew some air into her direction – and indeed she blinked and her eyes flew open, widening as she saw him.

He smiled at her and she gasped, masking the noise with another moan as the boy kept plunging into her without having noticed anything. She held his gaze then, her lips parted and trembling, her whole body shaking, and he saw first-hand how her fourth orgasm rolled over her as she held onto the Slytherin tighter, her fingernails digging into his skin and leaving red marks behind.

For a moment he envied the other's ability to bleed, but then he watched in awe how the girl came undone completely, her face turning into a mask of pure bliss as her eyelids fluttered and her mouth opened for a particularly loud moan.

He licked his translucent lips and his hand moved to his own crotch, frantically rubbing himself through his trousers as he took it all in. The grunts of the boy as he came as well only mirrored the noises he had wanted to make and in that moment, as the boy grabbed the girl's waist to push into her with one final forceful thrust, he imagined himself filling her up with his seed, emptying himself inside her pretty pussy, leaving behind a mess that would spill out of her eventually, tainting her uniform, coating her skin, until it was dried and caked to her sacred centre and her soft thighs.

And he'd imagine her walking around like that until she would take a bath and that was when his mind went spiralling. He'd seen her take a bath before, many times, and as she would do so again after this for sure, he was already looking forward to seeing it again.

Jackdaw retreated then, throwing her one last smile before he disappeared into his dark corner again, still observing, but giving the couple a little time to come down from their shared experience – and giving himself a well-deserved handling, his ghostly grunts nothing more than the wind howling through the old castle's walls.

The boy gave the girl a soft kiss as he slowly stepped away from the table, his seed, as predicted, dripping from her core. She held onto his face and kissed him back with passion, whispering sweet nothings as she leaned against him once more. His chuckle filled the room and he coaxed a shrill shriek out of her when he would plunge his fingers into her soiled hole, pushing his mess further in again.

She slapped his hand away and laughed, then quickly jumped off the table and put her underwear back on, indeed concealing what he had left inside her. Jackdaw watched them get dressed again, his hand tightly wrapped around his length, eager to feel like this again, to be in love, to be alive...

He stroked himself almost angrily now and when the illusion of his cum pumped out of him, he groaned deeply and the noise would make the girl look into his corner as the couple was about to exit the classroom. He saw her blushing and biting her lip – and what else could that notion mean other than that she'd wait for him in the bath like usual?

Smirking to himself, he nodded to himself and watched the two students leave.

Time passed and as he had no concept of it, he found himself floating through the Ravenclaw common room, looking for the girl. Most students seemed to be away still, at dinner or in classes or elsewhere, he didn't know and he didn't care. He knew she was here somewhere. He quickly scanned the bathrooms, yet she was nowhere to be found.

When he finally decided to take a peek into her dorm room (which he rarely did because he still had some sense of decency left, a little bit at least, he'd usually wait for the girls to sleep to haunt their halls), he was met with a sight he had not expected.

There she was, alone in her room, completely naked, on her top bunk, lying on her back, legs spread wide, moaning softly. He floated closer, watching her with growing curiosity. Her eyes were closed and she had one hand between her slightly quivering thighs, her fingers rubbing gentle circles around her clit. He decided to surprise her and shoved his translucent form through the underside of her bed until his head poked out the other side, deliciously close to her pretty pussy.

“Hello beautiful,” he whispered and upon hearing his voice, her eyes flew open and she blushed deeply when she saw him right between her legs.

“Hello Richard,” she replied coyly but with an undertone that certainly suggested she had indeed been waiting for him.

“Not taking a bath today, lovely?” he cooed and kept watching her move her fingers over her wet folds. He could see dried traces of her boyfriend's cum all over her skin.

“Not yet,” she whispered back, licking her lips. “No point in cleaning up just yet...”

“I see,” he said and moved his head closer to her centre. She shivered slightly and a small gasp escaped her. “Say, can you feel this?” he asked and blew a little air against her heated skin. She bucked her hips in response.

“Yes,” she breathed. “So cold... and refreshing...”

He smirked at her and continued to gently assault her with his ghostly breath. Seeing her shiver and hearing her moan softly made his erection strain against his trousers once more. “Such a naughty little girl...” he teased, moving over her body now, blowing against her stomach and then focused on her breasts. It didn't take long for her rosy nipples to harden and peak up with interest.

She bit her lip and halted the movement of her fingers as she watched him. He was now basically hovering over her, inches away from sinking his see-through form through her body, gently floating up and down, his face so close to hers he could almost feel her rapid breaths against his ghostly skin.

“Is this all you wanted to do right now?” he whispered, his voice deep and definitely having an impact on her as he saw her shuddering and inhaling sharply. “How about you use some of your little... toys?”

He saw her swallowing and without breaking eye contact, she moved one arm over her head and fidgeted with the small box she had stored on the shelf behind her pillow. Her shaking fingers returned with one of those fancy wand handles she had collected and he had always wondered why she would keep them so close to her bed until he had caught her one night pushing one of them deep into her shivering pussy.

And she did just that now as she lowered her hand and pushed the item through her folds, coating it in her juices before she slipped it past her entrance and in it went, easily swallowed by her eager little cunt. A soft moan escaped her and he kept watching her, floating a little to the side to lie down next to her, propped on one ghostly arm as his eyes moved from her flushed face to her centre.

“Can you even feel that?” he asked quietly. “After being stretched so much by your boyfriend?”

She chuckled softly. “Oh Richard, you have no idea how the female body works, do you?” she teased and watched him intently.

“Well, of course I don't, thank you for reminding me,” he said with a pout and a raised eyebrow. Yet he knew she only meant it as a joke, no matter how true her words were and how much it had hurt to realize that he had died before having the pleasure of fully experiencing any real contact with a woman's body.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered and she leaned closer to him, her lips literally ghosting his as she looked at him intensely. “Forgive me.”

He sighed theatrically, then smirked at her. “Of course, love, how could I ever stay mad at you,” he replied quietly, moving his see-through head slightly against her, trying to imagine what a real kiss would feel like. “When you are so generous in showing me all these wonders...”

“Let me show you another little trick,” she whispered and leaned away, propping up on one elbow as she moved her hands to the wand handle wedged inside her pretty pussy. Yet she didn't touch it, she merely rubbed her nub slowly, then more eagerly, and with a deep moan he saw how the wand handle moved on its own and with a wet plop slipped out of her tight hole, landing on the bed sheets, coated in her juices.

He chuckled softly and raised his eyebrows in approval. Before he could react further, she had grabbed the box full of wand handles and put it between her legs, her thighs twitching slightly as she sat up. He floated back a little and settled near her shin, watching her curiously. She proceeded to rummage through the contents of the box and got out three more of the same type of handle, all seemingly cut from the finest marble, probably cool to the touch and heavy, all in a variety of different colours.

“What do you plan to do with those, beautiful?” he asked and tilted his head carefully. She looked up at him, cheeks flushed, yet the smirk was more than devious. Seductive even.

He took a closer look at the objects as she pushed the box aside. He had thought they were smaller, thinner, but upon closer inspection they had about thrice the girth of a normal wand, probably filling the palm of the small girl completely, perhaps even a little more if she would have used them properly.

Yet she proceeded to place them between her splayed legs, the one that had already been inside her in her hand now, as she rubbed her wetness over it once more. He knew she would normally use her fingers to pleasure herself, he had seen it so many times, but seeing her small digits in comparison to the much thicker item made him frown deeply.

“Can I see yours?” he then heard her ask and he looked at her with an even bigger frown, before he understood. She looked at him intently as she held the wand handle to her entrance.

“Of course, dear,” he whispered and unbuttoned his trousers. He used to be much more hesitant about this, but she had asked him many times before and even though she couldn't touch him, the thought of her eyes on him, no matter how see-through he might be, aroused him more than he would have admitted. Then again, she probably saw the effect she had on him quite clearly.

As he freed his erection from its confines, he saw her licking her lips, before she pressed the phallic item into her channel, her eyes on his crotch. He started to curl his fingers around his length, lazily stroking it as he watched her move the object in and out slowly, her breaths quickly turning heavy. Yet before she rode it out completely, she grabbed another one of the wand handles and brought it to her lips, languidly moving her tongue over the rigid surface.

He let out a groan. Her constant eye contact was riveting, so naughty and sultry and downright lewd, so unlike any girl he had met in his long afterlife. She knew what she was doing and he was here for it. When she started sucking on the item, he could only imagine what those lips would feel around his dick. Imitating it with his thumb and forefinger, he moved his hand tighter up and down his shaft, his breaths growing shallow, despite the non-existing need to breathe.

Once she had properly lathered the handle with her saliva, she quickly moved it down towards her centre and without any further hesitation pushed it in with the other one, a deep shudder rushing through her as she did so. He watched her with his lips parted as she moaned and bit her lip, shifting on her bed to adjust to the intrusion of two things now stretching her tight entrance.

“How does it feel?” he whispered breathlessly.

“Tight,” she replied equally out of breath. “And comfortably cold.”

He laughed at that. “I'd describe myself the same way,” he said and moved his free hand over her body, noticing the goosebumps spreading under his ghostly touch.

She moaned. “Oh keep doing that,” she whimpered and leaned back, shifting her hips as she pressed her hands onto her centre, keeping the wand handles stuck in place. “Feels nice...”

Jackdaw smiled and continued caressing her shivering body as good as he could. He couldn't feel her, but she certainly seemed to feel him. She had told him before that it felt like a cold, wet cloth hitting warm skin when a ghost would pass through a human. And apparently she was really into it. Her moans grew louder and she squirmed slightly, grinding her hips slowly at the sensations, be it by his ghostly hand or the objects wedged inside her tight pussy.

He couldn't help but grab his dick tighter at the sight. When he retrieved his hand, she looked at him out of half-lidded eyes and chewed on her lips. “Please don't stop...” she whispered needily, but he threw her a smirk and floated between her legs again, settling there with his legs crossed, his knees technically passing through her thighs and his cock held firmly in his hand.

“I want to see your pussy first,” he said quietly, holding her gaze.

She frowned. “You've seen it, it's right there,” she replied in confusion, moving her fingers away to show him what she meant.

“No, I want to see... more of it...” he said, licking his lips.

He saw her blushing as she understood and when she complied, his eyes wandered down to her quivering cunt where the two items twitched slightly in their tight embrace. Her entrance strained around them and when she grabbed them gingerly, he could see the skin stretching even more as she pulled them apart slowly, gasping softly as she did so.

“Yes... stretch that little pussy...” he moaned deeply and leaned down closer, taking it all in. “I want to see inside of you...”

She whimpered softly, her shaking fingers holding the objects in place as he dove his head down between her legs, his ghostly breath causing her to shiver deeply. The gaping hole she presented to him looked so delicious, her wetness seeped out of her invitingly and he could even see her walls clenching against the wand handles, her soft flesh moving with every shuddering breath she took.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered and she moaned softly as the cold air of his breath hit her heated skin. “I wonder...” He looked up then, a devilish smirk on his face. She frowned at him, her lips trembling. “How many more of these can you fit in that vast cavern of yours?”

She frowned at his words. He could have worded that differently, but now was not the time to be poetic. Staring at her like this, he could almost feel his dick hardening by the second. Eventually she sat up slowly, wincing slightly at the change in angle and let go of the items, her entrance closing up and straining back around them immediately. He watched her with growing fascination.

Grabbing a third of the same handle, this time a blue one, her hands shaking badly as he noticed, she didn't even prepare it beforehand, but just shoved it in between the other two, groaning deeply as she did so, her stomach tensing up. She looked at him, wondering if he was satisfied with what she had done, but he only motioned towards the fourth item still lying on the bed.

“I believe you can fit at least one more...” he whispered.

She swallowed at that and as she grabbed the last of the marble handles, a deep shudder rushed through her body, goosebumps shifting over her skin like a tidal wave. Shifting on her bed, she tilted her hips up and pushed the fourth object between the other three, really struggling now to fit it in. Her moan sounded almost pained and he decided then to help her a little.

His hand ghosted over her heated skin and if he really focused he could almost feel the warmth radiating from her centre. He pushed his fingers through her throbbing nub, coaxing another moan out of her and definitely helping her in relaxing against the intrusion of yet another strange object in her tight little pussy.

As soon as the fourth one was wedged inside her, she pushed all of them deeper and fell back with a loud grunt as she pressed her hands onto her folds, shivering deeply, her entire body convulsing under the pressure.

“Does it hurt?” he whispered and watched her from between her legs.

“A real cock feels nicer,” she said through gritted teeth. “But it's... tolerable...”

“Can you move your hips for me?” he asked quietly, and when she obeyed he could hear the stone objects grinding against each other inside of her. “You did pick the hardest material, didn't you?” he teased.

“All the others... are wooden...” she groaned softly, still fighting against the sensation as she bucked her hips slowly up and down. “Didn't want to... risk a splinter... you know?”

Jackdaw laughed at that. “Makes sense,” he replied and kept watching her hands cramping against her centre. “Will they come out if you remove your hands?”

“They might,” she whimpered. “It is a very tight fit...”

“Keep your hands there then,” he whispered and shifted his body until he was hovering above her once more, his ghostly dick, as hard as he could possibly be, floating above her hands. As he focused his mind, he propped his arms on either side of her body, trying to hold the shape despite his wavering form. “Look at me,” he whispered and when she opened her eyes, she gasped softly as she noticed him so close to her.

She licked her trembling lips, her eyes wandering over his see-through face. He held her gaze as he floated a little lower, his body almost moulding into hers, if not even disappearing inside hers. He could see the goosebumps rushing over her skin and her breaths were frantic. She could definitely feel him. “Richard...” she whimpered his name and it was all he needed to move his hips against her centre.

If he would have been alive, he would have wedged his cock right between those toys of hers, stretching her even more, making her scream and moan in pain and pleasure as he filled her up completely. He would slam into her with fervour, moaning her name and losing himself inside her. Perhaps he would have ripped those things out of her and shoved his hand into her, feeling that soft flesh pulse against his fingers as he caressed her from the inside.

He would have kissed her breathless, savoured those moans inside his mouth as he would have moved his body against her, fucking her absolutely senseless. He wouldn't have worded it like this, but in the end, he wouldn't have done any of this anyway, because he couldn't.

Inhaling sharply he focused on her beautiful face, contorted in nothing but lust and bliss as he kept pushing his transparent hips against hers, trying to imagine what it would feel like.

Over the years it had become harder and harder to remember the days of his short, short life. He couldn't even really feel himself when he stroked his dick, and the absolute audacity of his body to still give him the illusion of arousal was the worst thing about it. Despite all the dread flooding his mind almost every second of the day, for all eternity, he did enjoy living vicariously through the horny teenagers of this school.

Watching them losing themselves in each other's touch, eager boys impaling even more eager girls with their unfaltering erections, seeing and hearing them moaning and drifting off into spheres he never experienced, seemed enough for him, most of the time. And having this girl graciously sharing her pleasure with him, allowing him to be a part of it, certainly felt better than brooding away in a dark corner of an unoccupied classroom.

And even if he couldn't feel her squirming beneath him, her hands pressed firmly against her centre as she bucked her hips rapidly against the objects wedged inside her, it was enough to see her come undone, knowing that he had certainly helped her get to this dishevelled state. He kept pushing his ghostly pelvis against her, sinking his spectral dick into her core over and over again, moaning softly into her ear as he leaned over her, his breath actually making strands of her hair move slightly (he refused to believe it was merely the shuddering of her body that caused this).

Her moans grew louder and as she squeezed her eyes shut, she suddenly rolled onto her side, her hands between her legs as she pressed her thighs against them, her hips stuttering as she pushed her face into her pillow, actually biting down into it as she came right beneath him, her body convulsing as tremors rolled over her like waves. She gasped breathlessly, whimpering quietly as she rocked her hips slowly during her orgasm until she halted her movements entirely, panting badly.

He floated away then, settling at the foot of her bed, watching her curiously. Giving her a moment to calm her probably rapid heartbeat, he moved his hands over the curve of her body, seeing her shivering all over again. “Show me your pussy,” he whispered then and she rolled onto her back lazily, watching him tiredly. “Don't push those things out yet.”

She kept her shaking hands on her wet centre as she spread her legs again, her thighs twitching uncontrollably. He noticed her chest rising and falling fast, her pert nipples brushing against her arms as she squeezed her breasts between them. She moved her fingers and gingerly pushed the intricate wand handles around in her quivering cunt, their grinding sounds mixing with the wet squelches, before she grabbed two with each hand and pulled them aside, opening her pussy up for his viewing pleasure.

He gasped softly as he saw her wetness pooling between them, almost bubbling softly from the tremors of her clenching and unclenching walls. Grabbing his dick once more, trying to imagine how hard and hot it must feel in his tight grip, he stroked himself quickly, his eyes glued to her gaping hole and then he actually felt a rumble going through his translucent body and he saw his seed spurting out of his tip. He quickly pushed it right into that deep opening in front of him, having to imagine how his cum would fill her up completely, how it would feel to be embraced in that tight space, milked to the very last drop.

Groaning loudly, he watched her moaning softly, her core shivering under his pretend-intrusion. When he was done, he leaned back, breathing just a little bit faster. She then started to pull her toys out of her cunt, one after the other, each releasing with a moan and squelching sound that almost made him feel goosebumps as he watched her. Once all four of them were lying on her bedsheets, gathering her wetness beneath them and staining the fabric, he looked at her stretched pussy.

She kept it open with her fingers now, gently caressing her lower lips as she met his gaze. He could see her juices seeping out lazily and perhaps it was the seed of her boyfriend from earlier, or – and he liked the idea much better – it was his ghostly release mixed with hers, transcending the bounds of possibilities. It had felt special and he had never felt more connected to her. So why couldn't it be his?

He smiled softly at her and moved a hand over her heated centre, pretending to smear it over her skin – and as if reading his mind, she did the exact same thing and dug her fingers into herself and spread the white substance all over her skin, moaning slightly as she did so. And she didn't stop there. He watched her with wide eyes as she raised her wet hand to her lips and started licking it with slow, sensual movements of her tongue.

Groaning deeply, he leaned back and watched her in nothing but admiration. “Such a naughty girl...” he whispered with a smirk.

She smirked right back, putting her fingers into her mouth and sucking on them with a lewd noise that would have made him blush if he would have been able to. Her other hand moved over her wet folds and when she started fingering herself, he shook his head with a chuckle. Floating up to somewhat lie down next to her, his eyes kept wandering from her flushed face to her equally agitated pussy as she kept pushing her fingers in and out, the wet noises almost giving him chills.

“Will you ever stop being horny?” he asked quietly, his face hovering next to hers.

She laughed softly, lowering her hand to grab her breast, smearing her saliva over her hard nipple. “Never...” she replied and winked at him.

“And here I thought I was the horny ghost...”

“You are, you just found an equally horny girl who really enjoys your presence,” she whispered with a soft smile that wouldn't quite match the lewd things she was still doing to her body.

“That's one of the sweetest things someone ever said to me,” he purred, smiling back happily. She locked gazes with him then and he almost could feel the hunger lingering behind her beautiful eyes.

“How about we take that bath now, Richard?” she then offered and her innocent smile turned into a smirk once more.

“I like the way you think, darling,” he said and floated away slightly, watching her sit up slowly as she wiped her wet fingers on her thigh, caking it with even more substances that certainly needed to be scrubbed off soon. “Lead the way, I'll follow you inconspicuously...”

She scoffed playfully as she jumped off the top bunk and landed on the floor with a soft thud. “You just want to see me walk away, don't you?” she teased and grabbed a bathrobe, yet didn't put it on.

“Guilty as charged,” he confessed and laughed darkly, his eyes travelling up and down her naked form. “I dare you to go to the bathroom like this...” he then teased and bit his lip.

She tilted her head, smirking wider. “Challenge accepted.”

End notes:

It's not cheating when you're just pleasuring yourself, can't control the ghost watching, right? (Should have added that into the story, but meh, didn't seem to fit, so I left it out and here you go. Plot hole in a smut piece? What's new? XD)

So my first Kinktober submission focussing on someone other than Sebastian did feel a little strange at first, but he is still present at the beginning and always in my heart even when I write about smexing up ghosts.

I got inspired to do this as I remembered that little phase we all had where all I could see on my dash was Richard Jackdaw and I somehow miss those days, but here he is/was, in all his ghostly glory.

I mean, look at this image by @cuffmeinblack - I should definitely write some more about this fine boy. (Hmm, bathtub scene incoming? Who knows.)

[ masterlist ]

Previous Kinktober submissions:

Pleasant dreams... and tentacles (somnophilia, tentacles)

It is that time again (breeding kink)

A scholar and a pervert (overstimulation, sex toys)

It belongs to me (deepthroating, semi-public)

A Filthy Fantasy (1/2) (cnc, bondage, sensory deprivation, orgasm denial)

A Filthy Fantasy (2/2) (threesome, oral/vaginal/anal)

[ninaworkingatsams]

🐍 A Lock of Hair 🐍

[Fluff] What starts as a daring joke soon reveals hidden sentiments, leaving both surprised by the warmth behind the laughter.

Jamil X Slightly Mischievous! Reader

It was a late evening in the dimly lit library, and most students had long since retreated to their dorms. The air was thick with the scent of yellowed papers and old books, the quiet only disturbed by the occasional rustle of a turning page. Jamil sat at one of the large wooden tables, his posture impeccably straight, his dark hair pulled back into its usual, immaculately tied ponytail. His eyes, sharp and focused, skimmed over the text in front of him, absorbing every detail on his literary course requirement reading.

To any observer, Jamil seemed untouchable—completely absorbed, lost in the depths of his studies.

From across the library, the Prefect watched him with a sly grin, her eyes glinting with playful intent. In her hand, she held a small pair of scissors, her plan already set in motion.

With silent steps, the Prefect approached Jamil from behind. His dark hair shimmered faintly in the warm glow of the lamp, perfectly maintained as always—a testament to the pride he took in his appearance. She suppressed a giggle, keeping her composure as she slowly lifted the scissors—

Snip.

The sound was crisp and unmistakable.

Jamil’s shoulders tensed instantly, his eyes snapping up from the book, narrowing in suspicion. His hand moved almost reflexively to the back of his head, where his fingers checked for his sleek ponytail. Had the Prefect really cut his hair?

He turned slowly, his gaze sharp as he locked eyes with her. She stood there, holding up what appeared to be a long, dark strand of his hair, her eyes wide with faux innocence and a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

For a moment, there was silence. Jamil’s mind raced, processing what had just happened. His hand instinctively checked his ponytail again—still intact. But the possibility that she had actually cut a lock of his hair stirred something fierce in him.

Before he could react, the Prefect spun on her heel, stifling a laugh as she dashed between the towering bookshelves.

“Prefect!” Jamil’s voice was sharp but controlled, his irritation tempered with disbelief as he rose from his seat. His long strides carried him swiftly, his jacket flowing behind him as he gave chase. Had she really done it?

The Prefect’s laughter echoed faintly through the library as she darted between shelves, her footsteps light. But Jamil was fast, and he had no intention of letting her escape so easily. He weaved through the aisles with precision, closing the distance between them.

Just as she was about to round another corner, her foot caught on the edge of a loose book. She stumbled forward, landing in a heap of robes and scattered belongings.

Jamil slowed to a stop, satisfaction glinting in his eyes as he approached. He stood over her, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. The tables had turned.

“I suppose you didn’t think that one through,” Jamil remarked, kneeling beside her and bending slightly to meet her gaze. His tone was soft, almost teasing, but laced with a hint of victory. “Are you alright?” he added, though the question carried a clear air of smugness.

The Prefect burst into laughter despite the fall, her eyes bright with amusement. “I’m fine,” she managed, cheeks flushed.

As she pushed herself up, her bag tipped over, spilling its contents across the floor. Jamil’s eyes flicked downward, catching sight of a black-haired wig—identical to his locks. Realization dawned; it was a prank. Relief and bemusement washed over him.

His smirk faltered briefly as he noticed a small collection of brightly colored sticky notes among the scattered items. He picked one up—a reminder, written in his own neat handwriting, of an impending rain shower. He remembered slipping it into her calculus notebook. The note, slightly warped with dried spots, hinted at her carelessness that sometimes worried him.

“You kept these?” Jamil asked, his tone softening as he studied the notes. Each bore small reminders or tips he’d given her over time, now preserved with care.

The Prefect’s laughter quieted, and she blushed slightly as she reached for the wig. “Maybe,” she replied, trying to sound casual but clearly embarrassed. “I like to keep track of what you say.”

Jamil raised an eyebrow. “So, you collect my reminders and pull pranks on me in the same breath?” His voice remained calm, though a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes.

“Can you blame me? A chance like that, with a leftover prop from the production club, doesn’t come around often.” The Prefect grinned, brushing herself off as she gathered her belongings.

Jamil huffed softly, shaking his head as he handed her the rain-soaked sticky note, pausing briefly to reflect before passing it back. “You’re truly unbelievable,” he muttered, though the warmth in his voice betrayed the lack of any real bite. Kneeling further, he helped her gather the scattered items.

The Prefect slipped the wig back into her bag as she stood. “Admit it,” she teased, “for a moment, you really thought I’d cut your hair.”

“For a moment, yes,” Jamil admitted with a calm smile, his eyes glinting with playful menace. “But don’t think I’ll let this slide.”

The Prefect giggled, her grin widening. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Quiet in the library!” The sharp voice of the librarian cut through the air, her glare piercing from behind the shelves.

Both Jamil and the Prefect straightened, offering sheepish glances. The Prefect stifled a laugh, and despite his best efforts to maintain composure, Jamil felt a rare smile tug at his lips.

For all her mischief, there was a certain fondness to her actions—a care for even the smallest of things he shared. As frustrating as her antics could be, part of him found them… oddly endearing.

[bri-cheeses]

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 875 | @thingthatoncewastruee this is dedicated to you because of this old post of mine | Oh also this is a ✨part one✨ |

-

The light from the crackling fireplace spilled out into the common room, casting a warm glow to the dark wood and green furniture that made up the Slytherin common room. Save for two figures sprawled out on the couch and one curled up in an armchair with a book, the room was empty of life, the pop and hiss of logs the only sound present.

Except, of course, the turning of pages coming from Regulus Black, and the soft breaths of Evan Rosier as he lay upon Barty Crouch Jr.

Barty should be doing something. Regulus was reading some book that was undoubtedly full of hopelessly confusing metaphors, and Evan was sleeping. But Barty was simply watching Evan as he rested, observing Evan’s chest rise and fall with each deep breath.

Barty noted the way the fire lit up strands of Evan’s blond hair and danced across one side of his face, playing tricks as it highlighted his friend’s cheekbones. Evan’s mouth was parted slightly, and warm puffs of breath ghosted across Barty’s sternum each time he breathed out. There was something enchanting about it, about the way Evan’s arms wrapped around his torso, his body fitting perfectly against Barty’s own as they lay there, entwined with one another.

Barty should be doing something other than creepily staring at his best friend, but Regulus wasn’t paying attention, and Barty was having a hard time pulling his gaze away from the boy sprawled across him.

He had a hard time looking away even as the door to the common room opened, causing a flood of light to come spilling in.

“Crap,” he heard a girl mutter under her breath as the sound of falling books resonated throughout the room. There was a sigh, then the sound of books being stacked upon each other once more.

Footsteps echoed on the wood floor as the girl moved about the room, coming closer towards the fireplace. Finally, Barty was able to see who the intruder was: Adriata Fawley, a sixth-year Slytherin who Barty was on friendly enough terms with.

A sudden thought struck him as she made her way to the right of the fireplace, where the staircase to the girls’ dorms was. Really, this was a conversation he should probably be sitting up for, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb Evan.

“Adriata,” he called out quietly, trying hard not to wake Evan.

He stirred but did not wake as Adriata turned around, books still in hand, and said, “What is it?”

Almost immediately after finishing her question, she yawned widely, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. A sense of guilt washed over Barty—after all, it was late, and she probably just wanted to go to bed. But she was the perfect solution to his current dilemma, and Barty had already stopped her on her way up, so all he could do was finish his request.

“You know the Yule Ball, right?”

She nodded slowly, and Barty continued even as Regulus finally looked up from his book. He tried not to let his friend’s curious gaze get to him as he explained, “Well, I still need someone to go with, and I thought it’d be fun to go with you, if you wanted.”

The corners of Adriata’s mouth turned down, and Barty rushed to continue.

“Just as friends,” he added, desperately hoping she wouldn’t get the wrong impression and get scared off.

“Well,” Adriata said slowly, “I’d love to, but—” her eyes flicked over Evan’s sleeping form— “is Evan not available for some reason?”

Barty furrowed his brow. What was that supposed to mean? Did Adriata think that Evan was somehow going to interfere with the ball? Unless…

A low sinking feeling started to form in Barty’s gut. Had Evan asked Adriata to go to the Yule Ball with him? Was Evan going to go to the ball with Adriata?

Barty couldn’t stop himself from imaging Evan in a perfectly-cut suit with Adriata on his arm. Them laughing together. Getting food together. Dancing together. All while Barty watched from the sidelines.

He didn’t know why he cared this much. He was friendly with Adriata, sure, but that didn’t mean he had a crush on her or anything. But the thought of her going to the ball with Evan caused a sour taste to fill his mouth nonetheless.

Barty glanced back down at Evan’s sleeping face, and his voice tightened into a bitter tone as he responded, “No, why? Did he ask you to—to go with him, or something?”

“Huh? No,” Adriata shook her head, looking beyond confused. “No, nothing like that. I had just assumed that, well… you two would be going together, that’s all. Considering the fact that you’re, uh, you know. Dating.”

“What?” Barty squawked. Evan shifted slightly at the loud noise, and Barty immediately berated himself. He was only vaguely aware of a snort of laughter from Regulus’s direction as his mind scrambled to untangle Adriata’s words.

Dating? Him and Evan?

His gaze roved over Evan’s form once more, the way Evan’s head was tucked against Barty’s chest and their legs were twined together.

Dating, Barty thought incredulously as Evan nestled further into Barty’s torso, where had she even gotten that idea?

-

(Part two)

[mandomaterial]

Could you maybe write something about miguel and a deaf girlfriend or wife?

Ofc bby, personally its one of my favorite things to read because the fics are truly something else! I hope i did your request justice. :3 to be honest i don’t quite love how it turned out but i hope that’s just the little perfectionist in me. I really do hope you like it!

Btw i didn’t proof read any of this- feel free to tell me if they’re any typos! Masterlist

Miguel with a deaf reader

It all started when Miguel bumped into you at the library, you were struggling to reach a book from the top shelf and Miguel being the kind man he was, walked over, reached over your head and brought it down for you. All this had given you a terrible scare, you hadn’t seen him coming and well, you couldn’t hear him. So Miguel got quite concerned when he saw your panic stricken face “Are you all right?” He asked, his eyebrows clenching together. Fortunately you learned how to read lips, so you could quite easily decipher what he said and maybe you stared a little too long at his plush, full lips, you snapped out of it and nodded a little, cheeks all heated up and red.

To be honest Miguel thought you were pretty cute from the start, that’s why he actually came over, he thought that getting a book down for you would be a good conversation started and he didn’t mean to scare you. You hadn’t said anything to him yet, so he tried again “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to spook you.” With a soft smile on his lips, still holding onto your book. You didn’t react at first and you didn’t seem to be making eye contact, instead your gaze was set a bit lower, maybe that should have been his first clue that something was out of the normal here, but no. After a moment you stufend a little and started rummaging through your bag, looking for something, it didn’t take you long and Miguel was surprised to see that you pulled out a pen and a little notebook. You didn’t waste a second and started scribbling something and then turning the pages for them to face him.

«Hi, I’m deaf so i can’t really talk to you, I’m sorry » Miguel eyes quickly scanned the words and as soon as he was done, his big brown eyes snapped up to you, seeing the sorry look on your face. It was like you were sad that you couldn’t talk to him. You were sure that he’d just walk away after this, maybe if you could talk properly you could’ve had a chance with him. But against all odds, Miguel continued “Don’t apologize, that’s oka-“ he didn’t finish his sentence, caught in thought with his eyebrows scrunched. Could you understand what he was saying? And as if you’d read his mind, you started scribbling again. Miguel patiently waited until you turned it over again.

«I learned how to lip read pretty well, just don’t talk too quickly and everything’s okay» you smiled, happy that he was willing to continue. In all honesty you were so exited that this stranger wanted to talk! And he was so handsome too! You bit your lip a little and waited for him to finish reading. Miguels eyebrows raised a little, surprised that it would be this easy to communicate with you, maybe he still had a chance to score your number.

“Oh is that so? That’s pretty cool, do you also speak sign?” He questioned, making sure to not mumble, so that you’d understand easily. It looked like your eyes lit up, with little sparkles shining in them as you wrote on your little notebook. Miguel thought that you were really adorable and he couldn’t help but smile as you started writing excitedly. You handed the note book to him and his eyes shifted to the wording, gladly reading it.

«Yes, I speak sign! You you know any signs? It’s okay if you don’t. :) »

Miguel brought his hand up to his chin, thinking about his time at university, didn’t he take a sign course once? He was deep in thought until his eyes fell on you, you were standing there patiently waiting for him, big sparkly eyes and a big smile on your lips, you looked like a baby deer, just like a fawn. It was too adorable for him and he had to look away a little so that you wouldn’t notice the little bit of blush staining his cheeks. Your head flopped to the side and you didn’t understand, Miguel noticed and played it off as him fixing his already perfectly styled hair, by running his fingers through it. He forced himself to face you again and said

“Um, I took a course at Uni, but i don’t remember much.” He scanned his brain for any signs he still knew and a few popped up “umm, i think this was ‘thank you’?” He signed it, slowly, but correct “And this one’s ‘Hello’ “he signed again, this one was mostly correct as well! You’re ere so exited! You started applauding him just a tiny bit, your palms touching and just your fingers clapping, a gigantic smile on your face that reached past your eyes. Miguel almost couldn’t believe his eyes, how were you so fucking cute? His heart was pounding in his chest, unable to calm down and he was sure his pupils were heart shaped already. He just had to keep talking to you. So he did.

“Um, so what’s your name? My- My name’s Miguel. Miguel O’hara.” You nodded to show that you understood and started writing your name on the paper. You showed it to him and he paused for a second, he looked down to you again and realized that your name really suited you. You cracked a toothy smile that you covered a bit with your hand and just then Miguel realized that he’d said that aloud. His face flopped down embarrassed and he chuckled a bit but started looking at you again soon after “I said that aloud, didn’t I?” he smiled jokingly, you nodded vigorously and giggled a little. It was quiet but Miguel had heard and he could stop his smile from growing. He thought that it was no or never so he put on his brave face, shuffled around a little but made sure to keep his mouth where you could see it and asked confidently:

“I think you’re pretty cute. Could I maybe take you out sometime? Maybe dinner or something?” Oh, he hoped that you would say yes and that he could take you out, he already started thinking about places to go, his mind starting to spiral a little, thinking of you. Your face seemed confused, had you understood that wrong? Did he really want to take you out on a date? This hunk of a man, that could easily pick you up with a single hand? As if. It all feels like a cruel joke, maybe you do need to practice lip reading more. You didn’t quite know what else he could have said, so with a shaky hand you started writing down what you thought he said, preparing yourself for rejection or a misunderstanding.

It’s not like you haven’t been on dates before, actually you’ve been on quite a few, but it never lasted, all the guys thought it would be too hard to communicate and gave up before even trying. It broke your heart every time and you started hating your disability more and more every time it happened. So you decided to get off the dating apps and give meeting someone a rest. Once you finished moving your pen, you hesitantly flipped the notebook to show Miguel.

«You want to take me out? Like on a date?» Vulnerability was spread over your eyes as you feared his answer, expecting him to correct you or something similar, but to your surprise he just nodded, albeit a little concerned about the worried look on your face. He opened his mouth to say something “Do you not want to go out with me? That’s totally fine too, you probably have a boyfriend…” his mood sunk and he felt kinda silly for assuming.

But he couldn’t be more wrong, your mood had seemingly done a 180 and was completely flipped, you wanted to tell Miguel that you’d love to go out with him and that you didn’t have a boyfriend, but he wasn’t looking at you. So you did something a bit out of your comfort zone, you took hold of one of his hands to get his attention, before he even fully started looking towards you again, you began nodding like crazy, hoping to get the message across and bring it across you did, with a smile on his face he confirmed your answer and you just continued nodding with a huge grin.

The two of you exchanged phone numbers and that’s the story of how you met your now husband.

He was still ever so charming as the two of you sat on the couch in your living room, just enjoying each other’s company. You were leaning against his chest, curled up like a cat, just daydreaming about your lovely, handsome husband, until said person tapped your shoulder to shift your attention to him.

« What are you dreaming about, mi sol?» he signed, his finger moving quickly with precision, it had taken him a couple years to fully grasp the language but now he spoke it just as well as you! It was actually pretty cute how he started learning, each time the two of you met up for a date, he always showed off the new signs he learned in simple conversations and every time, you applauded him and gave him a little kiss as a reward. To him that was like the deal of a century, a kiss from his beautiful girlfriend for just a few new signs?m oh yea. He’d take that any day. It even gave him more motivation to study!

You just smiled and snuggled closer, before moving your fingers to say: « Oh nothing, just how we met and how cute you were » you snickered a little, knowing that being called cute would rile him up a bit. And right you were.

« Hey, hey, it wasn’t me that was cute, you were and you still are!» suddenly he grabbed you and almost crushed you in a bear hug, you loved his hugs, they were so warm and cosy, no need for any type of communication, his body telling you everything that you needed to know. This was truly a moment of bliss, Miguel wrapped his fingers around your own and brought them up to his plush lips, kissing your slender ring finger, so happy that the two of you were married. He’d stay with his Mrs. O’hara forever and ever!

Bonus headcanons

- he’s so protective of you, especially if you’re out in the city, he can only imagine how much more dangerous it could be walking around without being able to hear. What if you were crossing the street and didn’t notice a speeding car because you couldn’t hear the honking, what if you got splashed with water from the puddles when another car drives past, or that those stupid cyclists will nock you over, safe to say he worries a lot, so he absolutely always walks on the side wich faces the road, he never lets you get too close to the adage and he’ll always, always hold your hand.

- if someone ever gives you trouble or starts yelling at you because you don’t understand, (mostly Karens) hell put on his scary face and ask if they have a problem with his wife, while staring them down, not once has this ever backfired and he’s proud that he can scare anyone off that’s making you uncomfortable.

- If the two of you are out and about in the city he’ll always interpret anything that happening, oh there’s a crowd over there? They’re watching a performer. Oh, you wanna watch them too? Hell sign whatever they’re doing at the speed of light. Oh, someone’s yelling and there’s drama? If you’re interested he’ll tell you what they’re yelling about. Oh, there’s a cute puppy you wanna pet? Of course he’ll ask for you. And you’re ever so thankful, each and every night, you shower him in kisses and hugs as a thank you. And Miguel? He’s loving every second.

- sure there were a bunch of bumps and hitches in your relationship, lots of miscommunications and sure, it was difficult but he never gave up, he believed that you were the one for him and he’d do anything for you and of course you’d do anything for him as well, the two of you were basically made for each other and he didn’t mind your disability one bit, in fact, it just made you even more special.

[anasanthology]

Link In Bio

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ MDNI (I don’t care who reads just if your account age is set to under 18 don’t interact please) oral fixation, solo male masturbation, soft dom!Ethan Winters, porn with little plot, pretty tame, fem-specific gendered terms and anatomy. Not proofread.

Notes: I haven’t been here in forever… 🫣 sorry guys! Didn’t mean to abandon this account I just had a lot that’s been going on since I started it! I hope you guys like this fic 😁 enjoy lovelies!!! 💕

2.1k words | Ethan Winters x AFAB!reader

‘Yes!’

He grinned when he saw the notification on his phone and went to sit at his desk. He turned his computer on and looked up the account.

Ethan was never the kind of guy that was too into porn. That was until one day he came across a girl online, CameraShy070408. There was just something about her that left him wanting like he had never wanted before. (He also enjoyed how ironic her name was). She didn’t really have many followers, but he kinda liked that in a weird parasocial way. It was like she was his. He often tried to block out the fact that other men could see her like he did… Maybe he was weirdly parasocial with this girl.

After a while he started checking her account every night, which left him feeling a little desperate and pervy, especially when she hadn’t posted. He ended up just biting the bullet and turning notifications on. I mean, it wasn’t like he followed a million porn accounts. Really, hers was the only one he followed and the rest was engineering and game stuff. So he decided to take the plunge and prayed that no one would be looking at his phone when he got a notification. Ethan felt a lot better about himself now that he wasn’t actively checking this account every night. (Even though he’d still scroll through his notification board once or twice just to be sure he didn’t miss it, but that he was able to rationalize).

Luckily, tonight she had posted. The video preview was her holding a pink dildo in front of her palm. The caption read, “Feeling really sick ;( but I heard orgasms improve the immune system :).” Ethan moved his hand to sit on his upper thigh in anticipation. It wasn’t until he clicked on it that he realized there was a problem.

His mouth fell open and he just blinked at the screen, hitting the spacebar to pause the video.

No way.

No fucking way.

He sat completely rigid just staring at his computer, his hand sitting tensed up on his thigh. No way it was you. His face was lit up from his computer. A slight pounding in the back of his head from sitting in front of a computer screen all day at work, something he was used to now. It couldn’t be. The image of a woman’s hips displayed on his screen, paused mid-turn to show her right side. A long fine line tattoo stretching from her lower waist down to her mid thigh. The same tattoo he saw peeking out of the top of your skirt when you stretched earlier. He just couldn’t believe it was you. His sweet, quiet, friendly coworker…

You were the girl he had been watching?

Ethan bit his lip and just blinked up at the screen. His dick was already hardening from just seeing your handle pop up on his phone like some kind of deviant Pavlovian response. His hand started slowly moving up to his crotch. ‘This is wrong.’ His hand got closer… ‘I should click off.’ And closer… ‘She wouldn’t want me to see this.’ His mind was screaming at him to close out of the page but every cell in his body just wanted him to keep going. He wouldn’t admit it—not even to himself—but knowing that this girl he watched was you… it made it even better. Of course he was attracted to you, but that wasn’t completely it. Ethan got to see a part of you that no one else knew about. Whether it was the people at work or the people on twitter, he knew something they didn’t and it was exhilarating. Now it was really like you were his. He started to undo his buckle causing his face to heat up at the predicament he was leaving himself in. He knew how guilty he would feel after, how guilty he would feel going into work, how guilty he would feel every time you smiled at him, but he couldn’t stop. No. He could, he just didn’t want to. The aroused part of his brain just wanted to get off, and get off to you. At this point, even if it mattered to him how wrong it was it didn't matter as much as fisting his cock to a video of you. ‘It was your choice. You made the video for people to see. It’s not like he’s watching something you didn’t want anyone to look at.’ He tried to rationalize it but it didn’t make it feel any less wrong… and a part of him liked that. There was something so taboo about this situation that he couldn’t help but love.

‘I won’t treat her any different. As long as it stays in my head, who cares?.’ 

Now that made sense to him. It’s okay as long as he doesn’t let it affect his or your work relationship. That thought gave him the go ahead he needed to let himself fall completely into pleasure seeking. He slipped his underwear down just enough to pull himself out. A soft hiss could be heard as he grabbed his cock and looked back up to the computer screen. Your pretty curves still illuminated his face and reflected on his eyes. He unpaused the video and slumped back in his chair. He let it all but consume him.

Now he was committed.

You finished turning and leaned forward to display your wet pussy to the camera. He started pumping himself and swiping his thumb over his rosy leaking tip as he watched you. The image of your finger gliding over your hole would be something he could never forget. He closed his eyes and groaned as he forced himself to just rub at his tip like your fingers swiped up and down your cunt. If there was any doubt in his mind that this was you, it was completely gone now. He recognized your red and black nails—which he complimented—that you came into work with the other day. The nail polish was patchy from how you’d bite it off as you worked at your desk. He could still remember seeing you try to shake off a wet plastic rhinestone that had gotten stuck on your finger after you had accidentally bit it off. God… you had this horrible habit of putting everything in your mouth. You would be listening to him speak about something and be sucking and licking on your favorite pen cap. Looking right at him as your cute pink tongue slipped between your lips, it always drove him insane. He opened his eyes back up only to see your fingers rubbing your clit and covered in slick.

“Oh fuck.” A soft whine fell from his lips. He felt overstimulated from the way he was touching himself, but he always preferred doing it like he was touching the girls he would watch. His eyes scanned over your body and he couldn’t help but want more from you. He wished you’d show your face on camera so that he could see you put your wet fingers in your mouth. The thought made his eyes roll back for a second because he knew that that was something you would most certainly do. All the times you’d bite and chew on your fingers mindlessly as you worked, reading reports and documentation on your screen… Why would he think you’d do anything different? Shit. Now he was imagining you at work. All he could think of was you touching yourself at your desk. He knew he should stop now but the floodgates have opened and he just can’t go back. His cock ached at the thought of seeing you bent over your desk with your skirt hiked up to your waist. Fingers fucking your pussy as you sucked and licked on that click pen you have while you just stare at him. On his computer screen you grabbed your pink dildo and started running it along your slick to cover it in wetness. He brought his hand up to spit on it before rubbing it along the underside of his cock. After a second you started slipping it in slowly, pulling it back and re-angling it to try and get it inside you easier. It was hot seeing you struggle to stuff your tight little cunt. The video didn’t have sound but he imagined your sweet desperate whines. He thought about your pretty voice just begging to have something inside you, begging him. 

‘Ethan, please. Please just need your cock inside me. Wan’ it so bad.’

 You finally slipped it inside and started pumping it in and out while you used your other hand to rub your clit. 

‘Thank you, Ethan. Thank you, thank you thankyou…’

He started fisting his cock in rhythm with the dildo you were using. He pretended the ‘shlick schlick’ noises coming from his hand were coming from you touching yourself. His mind went back to you bent over your desk as he watched your video. Thinking about you fingering yourself and begging for his cock while he refused to give it to you. In his mind, you could be a whiny needy girl who loved it when he told you no and teased you. His spit bubbled and mixed with the pre-cum streaming from his tip as he sped up his pace when he saw that’s what you did. He just threw his head back and closed his eyes. 

“Good girl… yeah, take it.” He whispered into the near silent room. His thoughts were everywhere, putting you in different positions, different situations. The only common denominator was you, he wanted you. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl. Mhm, do it. Fuck yourself on it.” He gritted his teeth and winced as he felt the cum inside his cock. He wanted to finish inside you. He thought about holding you down on your desk as he pushed roughly into you while you just laid there crying and begging for him.

‘Mmph, Ethan, ‘s too much. Please-‘

That pushed him over the edge. The thought of your needy body trying to fuck back on him while you begged him to stop. The thought of you not knowing what you really wanted cause you were so far gone. He kept pumping himself and soon white stripes painted his fingers. “Oh, oh f-fuck. Mmph!” His other hand instinctively went to cover his face and he just kept stroking till his cock was spent. He just sat in his chair for a bit breathing heavily. He opened his eyes and paused your video. The room was completely silent. ‘What did I just do?’ He bit his lip and sighed. ‘What is wrong with me?’

Bzzt bzzt

He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and pulled it out (with his non-cum covered hand). He read the name and took a deep breath. This had to be some kind of cruel joke. He accepted the call.

“Hey, it’s late… is something wrong?” You could hear how tired his voice sounded on the call.

“Oh, did I wake you up? I’m sorry, Ethan.” Your voice was quiet and it sounded like you were struggling to talk a little.

“Um… yes, but I’m glad you did. I came home and took a nap on the couch and if I would’ve stayed like that all night my whole body would be aching tomorrow.” Liar. He laughed softly as he spoke, trying to ease his slight paranoia at you knowing what he was doing.

“Well, I’m still sorry. Uh-I was just calling to tell you I won’t be at work tomorrow. I’m sick. Now that I think about it this probably could’ve just been said in an email or text… I’m not thinking very straight right now, I apologize.” He couldn’t keep his mind off how whiny you sounded and he could feel himself getting hard again. ‘Stop, stop, stop!’ He felt like he was gonna cry.

“It’s okay, I hope you feel better. Stay home as long as you have to and don’t worry about work, I’ll take care of it.” His voice was soft and understanding.

“Oh thank you, Ethan. You’re the best.” You smiled a little. He really was always so caring whenever you got sick or something came up. “Well I’m gonna get off here and sleep off my fever. Goodnight, Ethan.”

“Goodnight.” He gave you a faint smile even though you couldn’t see it. He set his phone face down once you hung up and sighed. He looked down at his hardened cock and he just closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Why?’ He stood up and walked to the bathroom to clean up as he cursed himself.

How would he face you at work?

[stephstars08]

I’ve Got My Eye on You

Spider Socorro x Human!Reader

Warnings: A lot of Fluff with just a tiny bit of Angst, Worry/Anxiety, Reader is one year older than Spider, and maybe some grammar errors. (Sorry if I forgot any)

Summary: Y/N moves to Pandora to be with her older brother Norm Spellman. The first person she met and connected with is another human kid named Spider. As time goes on Y/N’s feelings for Spider starts to grow which is why she can’t help, but keep her eyes on him whenever he’s not looking.

Inspired By: Say Yes To Heaven by Lana Del Rey

Word Count: 1,908

Author’s Note: My first Spider story is finally here!!! Sorry for the long wait! I know it’s short but I do have to say it turned out really good to me! I don’t know why but for some reason it’s so hard for me to write for Spider. I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving with your loved ones and I’ll talk to you all soon!

Y/N has now been on Pandora for almost five years now. She is the little sister of Norm who is a doctor and scientist who lives on Pandora to help the Na’vi and their leader Jake Sully help rebuild Pandora after the humans started to light the land on fire. The reason why Y/N got sent to Pandora is because her parents believed she would be safer there than on Earth. Y/N was excited to go to Pandora since she’s always been fascinated in the Na’vi and their culture, but she was a bit worried that she wouldn’t fit in since she is human.

However, when she got there, she met a boy named Spider who is a human and who grew up on Pandora. Y/N is one year older than Spider, but they instantly connected and that made her feel more comfortable. Y/N is also pretty close to Jake’s four kids, Neteyam, Kiri, Lo’ak, and Tuk. However, the closest child she’s close to is Kiri just because they are so much alike. Y/N doesn’t go outside much just because she’s a big book worm and she also helps her brother out a lot in the lab. Spider always has to drag her out of her room to get her to hang out with him and the Sully kids.

Y/N was sitting in her room reading a book about the Na’vi language. Even though she’s been on Pandora for a while now she still doesn’t know the whole language yet but she’s starting to get the hang of it. She was laying on her bed on her stomach leaning up on her arms with the book laying in front of her. She turned the page. As she read, she felt a pair of eyes on her. She knew that it was Spider. “Are you going to come in or are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” Y/N asked in a curious tone as she looked up from her book to look at Spider who was standing in the doorway of her room. “Hey, I got to keep my eye on you.” Spider told her walking into the room. Y/N giggled as she playfully rolled her eyes. “I think it’s the other way around. You’re the troublemaker.” Y/N told him. “Hey, Lo’ak is the one that gets me into trouble.” Spider told her defending himself. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.” Y/N told him with another giggle.

“It’s time for you to get up.” Spider told her taking the book she was reading. “Hey!” Y/N said as she watched him close the book. “C’mon, Norm wants you to get out and get some exercise.” Spider told her which made her let out a sigh. “Okay.” Y/N said standing up and slipping on a pair of shoes. She knew not to argue since she knows she does need to get some exercise once in a while. Spider smiled as he tossed the book down onto the bed. “Lead the way.” Y/N told him.

********************

After getting their oxygen masks on and made sure they were on good, Y/N and Spider made their way outside. Right away Y/N’s eyes lit up because no matter how many times she’s been out exploring, she will always be amazed by Pandora’s beauty. “Where are we going?” Y/N asked Spider as she walked alongside him. “I told Lo’ak and Kiri we would meet them at the Tree of Voices.” Spider told her. “Really? I’ve never actually been there. I mean I’ve read about it of course.” Y/N told him with excitement in her voice. “You’re going to love it. It’s more beautiful in person.” Spider told her glancing over at her with a smile which made her heart flutter.

Y/N may have a crush on her best friend. Whenever he’s not looking, she can’t help but stare at him. However, she doesn’t know that Spider also does the same thing when she’s not looking at him. The only two people that know about Y/N and Spider’s feelings for each other are Kiri and Lo’ak. When Y/N arrived at the Tree of Voices her Y/E/C eyes went wide in amazement. “Wow!” Y/N said looking around in amazement and in awe. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Kiri said walking up to her and Spider with Lo’ak by her side. “It’s gorgeous!” Y/N said in awe. “Come on, it gets even better the further you walk.” Kiri told her taking her hand. Y/N let out a giggle as she let Kiri guide her further.

As the girls walked away Lo’ak notice Spider watching Y/N. “Bro, you need to tell her how you feel.” Lo’ak told him in a stern tone. “It’s not like I haven’t tried to tell her.” Spider said with frustration. “It’s like every time I get the courage to tell her before I can get a word out, we get interrupted.” Spider explained with a heavy sigh. “Well, you better tell her soon.” Lo’ak told him with a warning look in his eyes. “What? Why?” Spider asked him in complete confusion. “Because if you keep staring at her she’s going to think that you’re a weirdo.” Lo’ak told him and walked away. Spider playfully rolled his eyes and followed him.

********************

Y/N and Kiri were lying next to each other on their backs looking up at the lights on the tree. “So, have you told Spider yet?” Kiri asked in a curious tone as she sat up. Y/N let out a sigh as she sat up as well. “No, I always end up chickening out.” Y/N said as she fiddled around with her fingers. “Why are you so afraid of telling him?” Kiri asked glancing at her with concern. “I’m just scared that if I tell him how I feel it will ruin our friendship.” Y/N said staring down at her hands. “Aw, Y/N.” Kiri said as she put one of her hands onto Y/N’s shoulder which made her look up from her hands. “I know it can be scary, but sometimes you just have to face your fear.” Kiri told her. “You never know unless you try.” Kiri added with a comforting smile. Y/N’s lips formed up into a smile since she knows that Kiri is right. “Yeah, you’re right.” Y/N said with a nod. “Thanks, Kiri.” Y/N added. “You’re welcome, Y/N. I’m always here for you.” Kiri added in reassurance.

“Hey, we should start heading back.” Spider said walking to the girls with Lo’ak by his side. “Yeah, there is a rainstorm heading this way.” Lo’ak added in. “Good idea. Don’t want mom and dad to get worried.” Kiri said as she stood up from the ground. Before Y/N could get up on her own Spider offered her his hand to help her up. Y/N gave him a smile as she put her hand in his hand. She let him pull her up off the ground. When her hand touched his she felt the butterflies in her stomach go into a frenzy.

Y/N and Spider said bye to Kiri and Lo’ak and walked their separate ways from the Sully siblings. As Y/N followed Spider the rain started fall pretty heavy, so it made it hard for Y/N to see through her oxygen mask. When she went to wipe the rain drops off her mask, she ended up tripping over a rock making her twist her ankle. “Ouch!” Y/N hissed in pain as she held her ankle. Spider turned around and saw her sitting on the cold and wet ground holding her ankle clearly in pain. “Y/N!” Spider said quickly running to her side. “What happened?” Spider asked her as worry quickly took over his entire body. “I was wiping off my mask and I ended up tripping over a rock which made me twist my ankle.” Y/N explained to him in pain.

“Okay, can you try to get up?” Spider asked her. Y/N tried to get up with the help of him, but she went back down to the ground due to the pain. “Okay, plan B.” Spider told her. Before Y/N could ask what plan, B was he carefully picked her up and held her bridal style. “You all good?” Spider asked looking at her. Y/N couldn’t get any words out since she’s never been this close to him before, so she answered his question with a nod.

********************

When Spider got Y/N back to the lab he took her straight to her brother, so he could check out her ankle. Norm first did an x-ray to make sure she didn’t break anything which she didn’t. Norm wrapped up her ankle and told her to ice in every couple of hours and try not to put a lot of pressure on it. Norm helped her back to her room and let her change into fresh and dry pair clothes. He helped her settle down in her bed and used a pillow to elevate her foot. Before he left to let her rest, she thanked her brother for helping her which he of course told her it’s no problem and that he’s always there to help take care of her.

After a couple of minutes, she decided to get back to reading her Na’vi book. After thirty minutes she felt a pair of familiar eyes on her from the doorway. “What’s the matter? Scared I’ll bite you?” Y/N said looking up at him with a teasing smile. “Ooo, that’s a good one. I’ll have to write that one down.” Spider said as he walked over to her bedside. “What did Norm say about your ankle?” Spider asked her with concern. “It’s not broken, but he said it looks sprained. He told me to ice it every two hours and keep my weight off it.” Y/N explained to him which made him sign in relief. He was scared that her ankle broke.

“Y/N, can I tell you something?” Spider asked sounding nervous which made himself cringe. Y/N was confused by his nervous tone since she’s actually never seen him nervous before. “Of course.” Y/N told him closing the book and setting it down onto her lap. She sat up and moved over a little so he could sit down on the edge of her bed. Spider took a deep breath and sat down on the bed.

“Y/N, I like you and I mean I like you as more than a friend.” Spider confessed to her which took her by surprise. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but before I can get the words out, I always got interrupted.” Spider explained with a sigh. “Lo’ak told me I need to tell you, so you don’t think of me as a weirdo who just likes to stare at you.” Spider said. “I mean I only stare because every time I look at you, I just get lost in a daydream.” Spider said quickly adding onto his last statement.

Before he could say anything else Y/N connected her lips with his. Spider was taken back by the kiss but kissed her back. Y/N couldn’t find the words to tell him she liked him back, so she just took a chance and kissed him. They both felt electricity go through their bodies from the kiss.

When they released from the kiss they stared deep into each other’s eyes. “I like you, too!” Y/N confessed with a big smile on her face.

[ladykailitha]

Across a Crowded Room Part 5

Here we go! The last chapter of this short story that was only supposed to take a couple hours and be absolutely light and fluffy.

*checks notes* yeah this thing was none of that!

But I hope you like the ending!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

****

Eddie found a table quickly. That was the best part about going in the morning on a week day. While the colleges were out, the school age kids were still in class so the zoo was practically empty.

He pulled out his phone to check any messages he may have gotten, when his phone lit up with Nancy’s number.

He sighed, wondering if he should just let it go to voicemail, but he figured he might as well rip the bandaid off.

“Hello!” he said.

“Eddie!” Nancy said. It was clear she was already irritated. “Did you hear that Robin is staying with some stranger when she moves out to New York?”

Robin had in fact called him after she called Steve because she was avoiding calling Nancy.

“It would be no different if she was moving into the dorms,” Eddie reminded her. “The girl she’s staying with is the cousin of one of her friends so she’s not a total stranger. Plus they talked first to see if they could tolerate each other enough to be roommates.”

Nancy sighed. “It’s just I was really looking forward to having her on my couch, you know? After Jonathan left me, I really wanted the company.”

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. After Steve opened his eyes last night, he was starting to see a pattern to Nancy’s relationships. She was in a word, a serial monogamist.

“Yeah,” he said instead. “But it’s good she has a place to move to right off the bat so she isn’t living out of a suitcase, like she has been all this week.”

Another sigh. “You’re right, of course. I just worry about her. She’ll be on the other side of the city and we won’t be able to see each other that often.”

Eddie silently cheered. “That’s too bad. Look, I’ve got to go, Steve’s due back any second.”

“So how is Steve these days?” Nancy asked. “I heard he graduated from college.” But the way she said it, she made it sound like a fucking miracle.

Eddie chuckled. “Things are great! We went apartment hunting yesterday and decided to go to the zoo today.”

There was silence on the line for a beat too long before she said, “It’s good you two are reconnecting.”

“Oh there has been a lot of connecting all right,” Eddie said with a smirk. “With our hands, our mouths, our dic–”

“What?!” she shrieked. “You and Steve are dating?”

He puffed out his chest in pride. “Yeah. We finally got on the page on Monday after I got into Chicago. It’s been really great.”

“And you’re already moving into together, isn’t that fast?” she asked, her voice quivering.

Eddie looked up to Steve smiling down at him. “Look, he’s here. I’ve got to go.”

“Edd–”

Nancy didn’t get to finish his name because he had hung up on her.

Steve rolled the cooler over to the table and hefted it onto its surface. “Nancy I’m guessing.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “How did you know that?”

“Robin called me,” he muttered. “Said she was really upset that Robin was moving in with Cassie–”

“Chrissy, love,” Eddie gently corrected.

Steve snapped his fingers. “That was it, yeah. Chrissy. Anyway, Robin said Nancy was upset that she wasn’t staying her because she wanted ‘girl bonding time’ or some shit.” He started unpacking their food. “Like Nancy didn’t recently come out as bi.”

Eddie sighed as he got to work, too pulling out the plates and utensils. “You said we shouldn’t call Nancy last night to blast her, so I called Jonathan. I wanted to know what he said about their break up.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Eddie hummed. “He told her wanted couple’s counseling because he felt like the relationship had become more unbalanced lately and he wanted to make it work out.”

Steve opened their sides and sat down next to him. “I’m guessing that went over like a lead balloon.”

Eddie took a chip from the bag and munched. “Pretty much,” he said around the chip. “So he gave her the ultimatum and she chose to break up.”

“I give her three weeks before she goes running back to him.”

Eddie snorted. “I bet she thought with Robin coming up to New York she could scoop up a new girlfriend.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

They settled into a comfortable silence as they ate their food. They cleaned up and walked back to the car.

“This was a fun idea,” Steve murmured. “Even if Nancy decided to call and put a damper things a bit.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “But I’m glad you had fun today.”

Steve chewed his bottom lip. “Would you like to go to dinner with me to that Italian restaurant I was telling you about yesterday morning?”

Eddie’s eyes lit up. “Like a proper date?”

“Yeah.”

“Hell yeah,” Eddie said, pumping his fist. “I’ll drop you off at your place so I can shower and change. And maybe tonight you could spend the night with me at the hotel?”

Steve grinned. “That sounds like great idea Eds. I’ll pack an overnight bag and bring it with me to dinner. Is that okay?”

Eddie pulled him in for a deep kiss. “I’m game.”

****

Steve showered and shaved. Whistling a happy tune, dancing to the song to the music in his head.

His phone rang and he walked over to the counter to see who it was. He rolled his eyes when he saw it was Nancy.

He sighed. It seemed that she had gone the rounds with Eddie and Robin and having gotten no where with them, decided to go to Steve.

“Hey.”

“Steve,” Nancy said, her voice clipped. “Eddie spends two days in your company and suddenly everything has changed. And certainly not for better. So I have to ask what the hell did you say to them?”

Steve threw his head back and laughed. “You’re afraid I told them the truth about us.”

“There is no truth, Steve,” Nancy hissed. “You believed one thing and I believed another.”

“You can keep telling yourself that,” he said. “And Eddie and I got together when he got into town. We were to meet up for drinks. Originally he was supposed to get in around three and meet us for drinks at seven, but because of a tropical storm, his flight was delayed three times. So he got in, came to the bar, and kissed the hell out of me. I had barely got a hello out before we were kissing. So I literally didn’t have time to tell him anything.”

He could feel her brooding on the other end of the phone. “And as for Robin, when we met up for dinner after a disastrous apartment hunting her and Eddie commiserated about having to find a place in a new city. I suppose she was still feeling that when she spent the night at Kendra’s and told her all about it.”

The brooding intensified.

“Is there anything else you would like to accuse me of or can I go on my date with Eddie now?”

“That’s all,” Nancy huffed. “It just seems so sudden.”

“Life is like that,” he agreed. “And oh, never call me again. I’m blocking this number.”

He hung up and proceeded to do just that. He felt lighter than he had in days.

He grabbed his stuff and left the apartment with a smile on his face.

****

Eddie tapped on the wheel as he waited for Steve to come down. He was glad that things had smoothed out after that disastrous second day in ole Windy City.

The zoo was just what they needed to take their minds off of things.

When Steve came thundering down the stairs, Eddie wolf whistled. Holy fuck.

Steve was wearing a grey vest over a light blue button up, first three buttons undone, sleeves rolled up, and messily tucked into the tightest blue jeans Eddie had ever seen.

In other words, Eddie was doomed. He would be writing songs about Steve’s ass in those jeans for years to come. The boys were going to murder him, but god it would be worth it.

Steve opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, throwing his pack onto the back seat.

“You ready to go, baby?” Eddie asked brightly.

“Yup!”

Dinner was amazing. The conversation flowed as easily as Steve’s wine. Since Eddie was driving, he only had one beer that he nursed throughout the meal.

When they got back to the hotel, Eddie was relentless in his pursuit of Steve’s pleasure. He loved mapping out every freckle, every mole. Finding out which parts made him moan and which ones made him giggle.

Finding out he was ticklish under his right knee was a revelation to Eddie, because Steve would scrunch up his nose when he giggled and god, did that melt Eddie’s heart.

Sex was less intense then their first time, but more enjoyable for it’s learning of each other’s bodies.

They cleaned themselves up and got ready for bed. Eddie licked his lips when he saw that Steve didn’t bring any pajamas.

“Is this how normally sleep or is this a show just for me?”

Steve looked down at the one scrape of clothing covering his body and shucked off his underwear. “I usually just wear briefs to bed because our apartment is awful. It’s freezing in the kitchen and front room, but ass hot in bedrooms.”

Eddie eyed Steve’s body as he thought about joining him in the naked sleeping thing. “Why don’t you go full frontal?”

Steve snorted. “Robin.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up to Steve’s. “Oh. Right. Roommate who doesn’t like man bits, not wanting to see said man bits even accidentally. Got it.”

“And depending on my next place I might need to sleep with five layers and twelve blankets or nothing at all,” Steve said with a giggle.

“Can I vote for nothing at all?”

Steve laughed.

They crawled into bed. Eddie had chosen to at least put on pajama bottoms because he didn’t like the idea of having his balls touch those sheets.

Once they were cuddled up in bed Steve murmured, “Nancy called me right before you showed up.”

Eddie sighed. “Because of course she did. What did she want?”

“To blame me for you two turning on her,” he explained.

Eddie frowned and moved back enough to look Steve in the eye. “What? I don’t think Robin and I said anything to that affect.”

“Oh I know,” Steve agreed. “But she thinks I tricked you into dating me and conjured Chrissy from thin air all to ruin her life.”

Eddie snorted. “Once you told me about the cheating I told Uncle Wayne about it, and he said that there were a lot of things off about Nancy that he had noticed over the years and wondered why I hadn’t seen them, too.”

Steve let out a long sigh. “Because she didn’t want you to see them. I don’t blame you for it.”

Eddie kissed him. “Thank you for that. But anyway, the point is that once he said that, it was like someone had turned on the light and could see everything so much cleared and everything was only ever for her benefit, she was just really good at making you feel like it was for yours too.”

He pulled Steve in close. “But the blinders are off, babe. I’m one hundred percent yours.”

Steve smiled. “That’s all I could ever ask for.”

Eddie kissed him soundly and then they settled into sleep.

****

Steve rarely slept in, but sleeping in Eddie’s arms apparently made his internal clock line up with Eddie’s instead.

He woke up and groggily looked at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table and blinked at it. He wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn it said 10:54am.

That couldn’t be right. He picked up his phone and nope. Apparently that was the correct time.

Then he realized what had woke him. Eddie came out of the bathroom with a fond smile on his face.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he greeted, bending down to kiss Steve on the lips. “I’ve ordered us some food, but alas it has to be lunch at this point.”

Steve chuckled and slid out of bed. “I blame you entirely for that, by the way. I never sleep in like that.”

“It’s good for you,” Eddie grinned. “Especially after the roller coaster of emotions that has been the last few days. Your body needed rest, so you got it.”

Steve nodded. “I figure we can go out today and look at more apartments, if you’re up to it.”

“Sure thing, babe.”

There was a knock on the door and Eddie went to go answer it as soon as Steve was in the bathroom.

Eddie tipped the guy and they settled down to eat their brunch, such as it was.

While they ate, Eddie and Steve pulled up several different apartments that could work for them with their budget and made a list of out of the links based on how close they were to Eddie’s hotel.

Steve showered and got dressed. He packed up his stuff and threw it in the back seat of Eddie’s rental.

The first one was a bust. Literally. A pipe had burst the night before and the owner had been working on getting it fixed, so he hadn’t updated the site. It wouldn’t be livable for two months. Well past when Steve or Eddie needed to be moved in by.

So they moved on.

Crumby landlords, obvious signs of pests, and high prices struck again.

They stopped for dinner.

“Fuck,” Eddie groused. “I’m going to be making a fair amount, but not enough for these prices.”

Steve nodded. “It’s why I was living with Robin. Everything is just too expensive these days.” He chewed on his lip for a moment.

“Move in with me!” he blurted.

Eddie looked up at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“We both loved that third apartment we saw,” Steve explained. “It had two bedrooms and two full baths. It had a nice kitchen and was already wired for internet. Neither of us can afford it alone, but...”

Eddie gulped and pursed his lips. “And you’d want that, with me?”

Steve nodded.

“Yeah,” Eddie said with a fond smile. “Let’s do that, then. You can move in right away and get things set up and then when I move to Chicago at the end of the month, I can just slide right in.”

Steve kissed him fiercely and then called the landlord.

Two hours later they were the proud renters of a brand new shiny apartment.

A lot of their friends thought that they were moving a little too quickly getting an apartment together, but Eddie and Steve knew it was the start of something wonderful.

And really that was the best outcome either one of them could have hoped to dream for when they had made plans for Eddie to come out to Chicago.

Robin and Chrissy got along so well, that before classes even started in the fall, Robin had moved into Chrissy’s bedroom and they turned the second bedroom into a dance studio for Chrissy.

Nancy tried getting back with Jonathan a month later as Steve predicted, but he told her to get therapy and moved back to California to be with his mom, who had retired out there.

Steve didn’t know if she ever got the therapy she needed, but he hoped she did.

Eddie’s band was making lots of great progress on their album and the company was getting ready to release their first single. A little song about finding love right when you needed it most.

Steve had gotten a teaching position at a middle school as their basketball couch and US history teacher.

He was happy with the life he had, he didn’t need to worry about the life he’d lost when he broke up with Nancy all those years ago.

It was too soon to think about marriage, but Steve had a ring that he had bought years ago that he thought would look good on Eddie’s hand. But they had time.

And wasn’t that just amazing.

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

@goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

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@useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95

[always-andromeda]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Professor!Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ✯ 3268

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + dark academia + “I can see how badly you want this, so I'm going to make sure you get it.”

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ✯ I’ve loved this man literally since I was thirteen…so it’s inevitable that I’d be writing something absolutely fucking filthy for him in my twenties…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ smut (minors, do not interact), gaps in age and power, mutual masturbation, little bit of panty sniffing, a singular use of Y/N (I'm sorry, I hate it too but it was necessary), usage of pet names (sweetheart), general manipulation, slight praise kink, obvious disclaimer: the dynamic in this fic is just that, fictional, and should not be practiced in real life!! let me know if any other warnings are needed!!

(mdni banner template credit goes to @cafekitsune!!)

You’d rarely had luck receiving any sort of grace from your professors. Sure, there were a select few that only wanted to see you succeed. However, more often than not you seemed to encounter sadists who decided to take their kinks out on exhausted college students. But you were convinced that Professor Winchester wouldn’t be like that.

For starters, he’d always been challenging but never malicious. Despite the fact that you’d registered for his Norse Mythology course with the assumption that it would be easy college credits, you quickly learned that his assignments were difficult. Every week there seemed to be about a hundred pages worth of reading, frequent essays, and an emphasis on class discussion.

Oh, did he love those class discussions. While most were less than enthusiastic to contribute to lengthy examinations of Eddic poetry at eight in the morning, Professor Winchester seemed to be none the wiser of this.

He was always squinting over his thin wire framed glasses, surveying the class. He’d stand at his desk, brushing his long hair behind his ear while looking over papers. When he’d listen he’d purse his lips and tilt his head, expression rife with genuine interest. In all of these moments, he was the most gorgeous. But more than that, you were fascinated with his mind.

Professor Winchester knew this material like the back of his hand; was able to pull references and quotes from various pieces of literature at the drop of a hat. He was the only professor who could ever give notes that were actually helpful on essays and he’d always been generous with handing out extra credit assignments. Which is what you aimed to obtain on this visit to his office.

You looked through the glass of his office door and saw him inside, working diligently at a dark oak wood desk. Taking a deep breath, you turned the doorknob and entered.

The hinges squeezed but Winchester seemed so fixated on whatever was before him that he only raised a finger, indicating for you to wait. So you did. Awkwardly. You rocked slightly on your heels, your stomach starting to twist in time with the movement. God, he looked like a dream lit by the stained glass banker's lamp as he graded papers.

In another world you could see him coming home from a long day, his body warm behind you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Smelling like black coffee and pencil shavings, you'd adoringly close your eyes, taking in his scent and ask him how his day went. He'd hum in contentment when resting his chin on your head; you're his rock, his soulmate, the reason he stays sane despite dealing with probably hundreds of students and the frustrating dance of academic bureaucracy. 

It's a fantasy that broke the second Winchester glanced up and said with a hint of surprise, "Miss L/N! Come in, have a seat," he nodded towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

Relieved that he can pick you out among the sea of students from his classroom, you move forward until you reach the chair. You set your bag down on the floor and settle into the worn leather of the seat as Winchester eyes you expectantly.

"What can I do for you this afternoon?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek. "Actually, I was hoping that you could help me out with something."

"Oh, what might that be?" he furrowed his brow.

"Um..." you started. "I'm sure you noticed that I didn't do too hot on the last exam."

"Ah, I did," he said simply.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I was surprised, actually." Winchester opened up one of his desk drawers and sorted through some files before pulling out a packet you recognized as the exam you'd taken the week before. "You seem so engaged in class discussion and you've been doing well on everything else. This...this felt rushed. What happened?"

The soft expression of concern on his face only increased your shame. In all honesty, you'd wasted half the exam time away staring at him. He'd worn a red sweater over a cream colored button up that day. Then he'd rolled up the sleeves before handing out the exam papers. It felt stupid to admit that you'd been distracted by his goddamn forearms.

But you had been. You couldn't resist watching him as he'd circled the room, keeping an eye out for cheating. With his arms folded behind his back, you got the best look at the back of him. His long legs clad in khaki. Strong, tanned forearms corded with prominent veins. Shoulder blades pushed back confidently as he walked. Everything about his solid stature had your mind far, far away.

You'd been good at making sure your daydreams wouldn't get the better of you. But this time, before you knew it, Winchester was glancing down at his watch and announcing that you had fifteen minutes left for exam time. You had no choice but to rush through the rest of it, writing down answers that hardly even made sense just to fill in blanks.

Now those answers laid before you, condemning you to a low D– that dragged down your entire grade.

"I honestly couldn't tell you, Professor. I thought I studied enough but I guess not."

Though you'd attempted to laugh off his concern, Winchester obviously wasn't budging. "But these are rookie mistakes. Number fifteen for example. Where do the gods live?"

"Easy. Asgard."

"Right, but here you marked down the answer for Valhalla," he slid the paper around so you could look at the question.

Sure enough, there it was, your frantic pencil marks filling in the bubble for the incorrect answer. Damn.

"And that's just on the multiple choice questions," Winchester continued, flipping through the pages. "You barely followed any of the directions for the long answer questions. Your response to the short essay portion was a paragraph too short. And it was too unfocused."

Unfocused is right, Professor Winchester.

"I hate to say it...but I was a little disappointed."

The sting of tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. So you cleared your throat and blinked them back quickly. Voice trembling, you answered quickly, "I'm sorry, Professor. I wasn't on my game and I thought I'd pay you a visit so I could plead my case. I'm willing to do any kind of extra credit assignment. I don't care how much work it is. I'll do anything to fix my grade because I really want to do well in your class and–"

Winchester raised a hand, urging you to stop. Then he spoke, "Listen, I can see how badly you want this. So I'm going to make sure you get it. Just...let me think."

With that, Winchester rose from his seat and began to gather the papers that littered the surface of his desk. He stacked them neatly before opening a different drawer and laying them inside. After he closed the drawer, he made his way around the desk. You tried not to look at him as he made his way around the room, especially not when you felt his hand brush against the back of your chair. But you couldn't not notice when he drew the shade on his door's window and closed the blinds to his window, leaving the room dim save for the yellow light of his desk lamp.

Once he'd made his round, he returned to his chair and rolled back, leaving a massive gap between himself and the edge of his desk.

Then he did something else you didn't expect.

He patted the wood and said, "Come. Sit on my desk. Let me look at you."

You almost wavered on the direction when he cleared his throat expectantly. That brought you to your feet and compelled you to settle waveringly before him.

With his lips in a tight line, Winchester studied you. He tilted his head every few seconds, letting his eye flicker from your uncertain expression to your body. You sat up a little straighter in an attempt to satisfy his observation of you.

You weren't quite sure what he was doing, but it made you nervous; made you vulnerable in a way you weren't used to.

"I may have one extra credit opportunity that I can offer. Special. Just for you."

"Yeah? What do you want me to do?"

"Well, you can start by spreading your legs."

Your eyes went wide. "Professor Winchester, you're not–"

He cut you off quickly, "First, after office hours, you may call me Sam. Second, I'm not going to touch you. I'm simply asking you to give me a– a presentation," he decided.

"What kind of presentation?" you asked.

Your feigned innocence made the man chuckle softly. "The kind of presentation I'm sure you give in your dormitory bedroom every night."

There wasn't an ounce of jesting on his face, but still you played dumb. "I have no idea what you're referring to, Sam." His name felt foreign yet familiar on your tongue. Probably because you'd whispered it many times before in the exact scenario he'd described.

"I'd hoped you'd tell me the truth about why you were so distracted during your exam. But since you haven't been forthcoming, I guess I have to spell it out for you, haven't I?"

You swallowed hard and blinked nervously.

"You thought I wouldn't notice, did you?" he chuckles again. "It's hard not to notice when one of your students, especially one so beautiful, is practically drooling all over their table."

The scraps of flattery were evidently working on you as Sam smiled when you fiddled with your fingers in your lap as your skin got all warm and tingly. So he kept going.

"Besides, you're too intelligent to do this terribly on something you should've aced. Maybe you wanted to fail it. You wanted to get my attention, didn't you?"

"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to waste your time, I was just–"

"You weren't wasting my time. Wasting your time is continuing this pointless back and forth when you could instead be proving yourself."

"Proving myself?"

"Yes. Spread those legs...and earn your grade," he ordered.

Breathing in and out slowly, you did what you were asked. The knots in your stomach told you this was wrong. But the smile of approval that slowly grew on Sam's lips said that this was exactly what you both needed. 

You'd never been more embarrassed to be wearing a skirt. One the fabric pooled around your hips, it only framed the damp patch on your underwear. Perhaps part of you had wanted something like this to happen. Because your pussy was already pulsing after simply being observed behind the cotton curtain that soaked up her anticipation.

"Very good," Sam breathed out.

"What do I do now?" you asked.

"Just...play with her. Show me what you like to do to make her happy."

You nodded, then pursed your lips as you thought. If you were going to present to him...you might as well go all out. So you shifted each of your thighs around, pulling down your underwear until your bare ass was planted on the desk and the garment was caught on one of your ankles. You lifted your left and held it out gently, the panty hanging in the air a little below Sam's face.

"Take them," you said. "Visual aid."

He smirked lazily at the offering before pulling them over your shoe, being careful not to actually touch you. Sam balled them up before bringing them to his nose and slowly breathing in the scent. You could tell he enjoyed it thoroughly as he let out a deep sigh from within his chest.

"With how wet these are...it's good to know you were prepared even for a surprise presentation. I knew there was a reason you're my favorite."

His words went straight to your cunt as a few drops of slick leaked from your hole and landed on the dark wood beneath you.

"Go on," Sam urged, gaze flickering to the drops of you on his desk. "She's waiting. And so am I."

You began to treat yourself with the same level of care as you did when you were alone. One of your hands reached up your shirt and you cupped one of your tits. You kneaded the flesh for a few seconds before focusing on the nipple, pinching it until it pebbled and poked through your shirt. The action made your breathing turn ragged. 

You finally let your other hand travel south, bringing warmth to the soft skin of your thighs. Wanting better access to yourself, you pulled your leg up, resting a foot on the desk itself. Then you reclined back and let your fingers roam where they wanted.

Using two fingers, you spread your outer lips, only exposing yourself to Sam’s scrutiny even further. The cool air hitting your most vulnerable part, you shivered as goosebumps erupted across your skin. You looked up at him, gauging his approval of your performance.

“You’re doing so well already, keep going,” he encouraged, hardly concealing the arousal that clung thickly to his tone.

You took the praise with pride. It emboldened you enough to slip your two fingers between your folds to gather up some of the slick. You couldn’t help but feel mortified as you involuntarily gasped when your digits brushed slightly against your clit.

Sam let a quick puff of air out his nose. “Sensitive?”

“Mhmmm,” you whined.

“Bet you can’t even touch that pretty clit directly without crying, huh?”

You nodded.

“Then be gentle. I want you to last for me.”

You took that to mean that he didn’t want you touching yourself there yet. So instead you switched to focusing on your entrance. It wasn’t often that you went straight for penetration. Rarely did it bring the kind of relief you craved.

But you had the feeling that Sam would want to see it; to see your fingers filling yourself up and stretching you out.

With your fingers practically pruning already, you pushed one in ever so slowly. It took a second to adjust to the slight pressure, but still you began to carefully pump. The slick squelch only intensified when you slipped another one in and sped up your movements.

Though the pressure increased and built up tension in your belly, you could already tell it wasn’t going to go anywhere. You bucked your hips pathetically against your own hand, trying to get deep enough to hit your g-spot. But no matter how far you tried to probe, it was useless. Your fingers simply weren’t long enough.

Your eyes went wind, catching sight of something that most likely could reach that spot inside you. While you’d been fucking yourself, your professor had undone the button and the zipper on his pants and slipped himself out. There he sat, your panties in his hand and wrapped around the thick length of his cock. The angry red tip poked up and out of the fabric with each slow thrust. And you could already tell based on how long his strokes were that you’d most likely be able to feel him poking against your belly from inside you. The idea made you moan and throw your head back.

Sam swiftly reprimanded you, “Ah, remember your eye contact. I want you to look at me.”

Shame spread over your body. What the fuck was going on? Were you really fingering yourself on his desk right next to papers that he was surely going to return to students? Was Sam really fisting his own cock with your underwear? And were you actually enjoying this?

“Sweetheart,” Sam’s self control faltered slightly with the name. But it grabbed your attention nonetheless. “I need you to look at me. Let me look into your eyes when you make yourself come on my desk, alright?”

This was about more than fixing your grade. This was about pleasing him…by pleasing yourself. And as you returned his look, you were all in.

Under his watchful, half lidded, hazel eye you allowed yourself to focus on your aching clit which laid in wait like a pearl beneath the hood of skin covering it. Carefully, you pulled that hood back before lightly spreading some of your slick with a finger. You let the skin settle back in place over the sensitive nub before going straight to work.

You began to rub slow circles on the hood and finally properly moaned. It took only a few seconds for the muscle memory of your nightly ritual to kick in as the pleasure started to mount. Finally, all of that pressure in your core had some actual weight to it; a weight that was already beginning to roll in shallow waves over your whole being.

"There you go, sweetheart. Let me hear you loud and clear. Don't wanna miss a single sound from you," Sam groaned and you caught how the grip he had on himself tightened, how his pace quickened.

While rolling your hips against your hand, you pulled up a side of your shirt, exposing even more of yourself to him. Now he could easily see one of your tits rise and fall with your staggered breaths. He could see how the ball of fat dimpled under your fingertips as you squeezed and pulled at your hardened nipple.

Both sources of simulation had you whimpering breathlessly, "Sam, I-I'm so close– Let me come, please?"

Sam glared and asked through gritted teeth, "That's not my name. What do you call me in class?"

"Professor?"

Sam nodded darkly.

You took the cue quickly and begged helplessly, "Please, professor, please let me come–" you were cut off by the sound of your pleasure starting to push you over the edge. 

Sam left you teetering, staring right over the border of this boundary. That boundary being an ethical nightmare that you had no clue how you'd navigate. But you wanted to be good for him; you craved his approval.

And thankfully, Sam gave it as he groaned, "There you go, good girl. You can come, you've got permission."

With that, you arched off the desk and burst with glorious clarity. A thin stream of your arousal drooled from your entrance as you rubbed yourself through the enormous implosions and the small aftershocks that followed. Your head was heavy with the fog of pleasure and you wanted to hang it back, give it a break.

But still, you were determined to keep your eyes on him, even as you pulled your fingers away from your trembling cunt and stuck them in your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the wrinkled digits, soaking up every bit of yourself that you could.

Any sort of professionalism Sam had been trying to maintain up until that point shattered completely when he rolled his chair forwards. Closer to you now, you looked down into his soft eyes and watched how his normally objective stare went personal; emotional. He looked at you with the kind of admiration that made your heart flutter with pride.

He took his hand, placed it on your knee, and spread your legs further. His touch was so light, so soft that you could help feeling electricity dance along your spine.

"I thought you said you wouldn't touch me?" you whispered, only a hint of a smug smile tugging at your lips.

Choosing his words as carefully as ever, he explained, "That was before I decided that you needed some of my...guidance."

[d8nielaa]

hey! would you be able to do a funny story with sodapop and twobit? just them being chaotic and silly lmao thanks :)

Authors Note: yes ofc anon! they're just two good buddies. also lets pretend that cherry coke existed in the 60s

Just Two Best Friends

Sodapop Curtis x Two-Bit Matthews

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon when Sodapop Curtis and Two-Bit decided they were bored. And when those two got bored, it didn’t just mean playing pranks on each other—no, it meant chaos was about to unfold.

It all started innocently enough. Soda had been lounging on the couch in the Curtis house, flipping through a stack of comic books he’d already read a thousand times. Two-Bit was sprawled on the floor, doing his best to nap despite the blaring music from the jukebox in the corner of the room.

"Hey, man," Soda said, flipping a page and looking up at his best friend. "What do you think about doing something fun today?"

Two-Bit’s eyes barely opened, just enough for a lazy glare. "Ain’t nothing fun on a Saturday but messing with the Socs or eating something that’s bad for you."

Soda grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I’m talking about something even better than that. Something legendary."

Two-Bit raised an eyebrow but didn’t sit up. "Like what? You planning on stealing a car again or pranking Ponyboy into thinking his hair’s been cut?"

Soda shook his head, leaning forward. "No, even better. I’m talking about the ultimate heist."

Two-Bit squinted, his brain finally starting to catch up. "Ultimate heist? What are we, in some kinda movie now?"

Soda was practically vibrating with excitement. "No, I’m serious. I’m thinking… we steal the last case of cherry coke from the grocery store."

Two-Bit froze. "Wait, what?"

Soda leaned closer. "You heard me right. The last case. They’ve got it in the back, behind the shelves, and we’re gonna take it. The cherry coke of legends."

Two-Bit sat up so fast he nearly toppled over. "No way! Are you telling me there’s still a full case of cherry coke at the store? I thought they were all out!"

Soda gave him a sly grin. "I’ve been keeping an eye on it. They’ve been hiding it from everyone, but I know where it is. And today, we’re taking it."

Two-Bit’s eyes lit up with the kind of excitement you usually saw in a kid who’d just been told they could eat an entire cake by themselves. "Well, why didn’t you say so?!"

The next few minutes were spent in a frenzy of action. They threw on jackets—Soda’s was bright red and way too big for him, while Two-Bit’s was a little too small, causing him to look like a kid trying to play dress-up. They ran out the door, barely stopping to wave goodbye to Darry, who gave them a suspicious look but was too busy with work to care.

The grocery store was only a few blocks away, but to Soda and Two-Bit, it felt like they were on a mission of the highest order. As they approached the front of the store, Soda’s eyes narrowed, scanning the parking lot for any sign of danger.

Two-Bit glanced over at him, clearly enjoying the tension. "What, you think the Socs are gonna come out of the bushes or something?"

Soda shushed him. "We gotta be quiet about this. If anyone sees us, we’re screwed. And I’m not going back to the house without that soda."

Two-Bit snorted. "Yeah, and we’ll have to live with the shame of not stealing the legendary cola. The whole gang will never let us live it down!"

They snuck around the side of the store, peeking through the windows to make sure no one was looking. Two-Bit looked at Soda, grinning like a maniac. "You sure you know where this case is? You’re not making me run around for some made-up story about cherry coke, are you?"

Soda smirked. "Trust me. I’ve been watching that case for weeks."

As they reached the back entrance, Soda nudged the door open with his elbow, barely making a sound. Two-Bit, of course, couldn’t resist the urge to make a loud clang as he knocked over a metal bucket by accident.

"Shh!" Soda whispered, but it was too late. They could hear footsteps approaching, and in a panic, the two of them rushed behind the nearest shelf, crouching down.

"Aw, come on!" Two-Bit groaned. "This is exactly what I was trying to avoid!"

Soda peeked over the shelf, spotting the store manager, a stern-looking woman who seemed to have eyes in the back of her head. "She’s coming this way. We gotta move!"

The two of them scurried along the back aisle, nearly knocking over a display of canned goods, before finally making it to the aisle that housed the fabled cherry coke.

But there was a problem.

The case of cherry coke wasn’t where Soda had seen it last.

"Uh, Soda," Two-Bit said, his voice tinged with panic. "Where’s the case?"

Soda’s face fell. "I—I swear it was here."

Two-Bit threw his hands up in the air. "You had one job, Soda!"

Before either of them could react, the store manager rounded the corner. "Hey!" she shouted, spotting them standing suspiciously in the aisle. "What are you two doing back here?"

Soda froze. Two-Bit, however, had other ideas.

With a mischievous grin, he grabbed the nearest bottle of root beer and threw it down the aisle. It clinked as it rolled, and the manager immediately turned to chase it.

Soda wasted no time. "Quick! The cola’s gotta be in the back. Let’s go!"

Without even thinking about the consequences, they both bolted for the storage room door. Soda pulled it open, and they rushed inside. The case of cherry coke sat on a high shelf, just waiting for them.

"We made it!" Soda cheered.

Two-Bit rubbed his hands together. "Now all we gotta do is get it out of here without that manager catching us."

Soda looked around. "I got an idea. You distract her, and I’ll grab it."

Two-Bit nodded. "I’m on it."

As they made their way back toward the front of the store, Soda grabbed the case, struggling under its weight as he tried to make his way to the door. They ducked and weaved through aisles, narrowly avoiding running into customers.

Just as they made it to the door, the manager spotted them. "Hey! You can’t just—!"

Soda turned, held up the cherry Coke, and said, "You’re right. But we can!" With that, he kicked the door open and ran out into the street, laughing like a maniac.

Two-Bit followed, yelling, "We’re legends, Soda! Legends!"

And so, in a haze of laughter and chaos, the two of them made their great escape. By the time they reached the Curtis house, both of them were out of breath, and their cheeks hurt from grinning.

"You think Darry’s gonna be mad we stole a case of cherry coke?" Two-Bit asked, still chuckling.

Soda glanced at him, still panting but happy. "Nah. He’ll be impressed. Who else can say they’ve pulled off a heist this good?"

Two-Bit slapped him on the back. "We’re gonna tell the whole gang about this. They’ll never believe us."

And, for once, Sodapop Curtis and Two-Bit Matthews had done something truly ridiculous���something completely chaotic—and they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Authors Note: just two good friends-two best friends

[billiedeansbitch]

Hello, first of all i love ur work!

And i have a request, i was thinking larissa x reader, they are in bed and larissa is reading a book, r is a little bored and asks her if she can read out loud so she does it but then r goes between her legs so she’s confused and stops and r is like “keep going” and then starts to eat her out but she’s trying to keep reading until she can’t anymore cause it’s all just becoming moans. U can continue the smut or just keep it at that

Keep up the good work and have a great day! :)

𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

note: I enjoyed writing and thank you! hope you're having a great day as well, anon.

warning/s: NSFW. fingering. cunnilingus.

Larissa was already in bed, reading, when you arrived from your own office after attempting to finish grading your students’ essays so you would be able to enjoy the weekend without thinking so much about work. 

You were greeted with a smile as you approached her, bent down, and kissed her lips. You pecked quickly since you were eager to get out of your clothes. You drew away and told her you were going to shower, and she only hummed before returning to her book. You left with a little pang in your chest hoping she had given you more attention, hoping that her eyes would lit up and ask if she could come and join. 

Later, after refreshing yourself, you decided to read something on your own, so you grabbed a book and settled next to her. Larissa hummed contentedly, slid her hand on your thigh, and languidly stroked the cool skin with her thumb.

The first few minutes were pleasant; you were relaxed and fine, reading the book in your hand, but after about thirty minutes, a deep longing for physical affection gnawed at your chest. It had been a long day and you were craving it dramatically.

So you closed your book, setting it aside on your side table. You drew out a long breath, almost too theatrical, hoping Larissa would take notice. She didn’t. She was too immersed.  Her lack of engagement painted a frown on your face. 

At times like this you knew better than to distract her. Reading was her escape, it was what undid the knots in the poor woman’s head from all the stress running this school. But you were getting unbearably bored and impatient. However, you still decided to give it a few more minutes. 

Your thoughts were then interrupted by her hand going further up your thigh. You paused. Did she–? You looked at her, still busy reading with her brows pushed up in concentration and then she snorted, took her hand away from you thigh to rub her temple. 

You kept observing the lines between her brows. Even reading made her stressed. So you sighed, carefully scooted next to her and rested your head on her shoulder. 

A sly smirk tugged the corners of your lips, getting the dirtiest idea. “Have I told you I love this dress?” it came out of nowhere, from Larissa’s perspective, yes. For you? No. 

“Hmm what?” she asked.

Your hand landed on her thigh. “Nothing. Will you read to me if that’s okay?” She agreed, of course, and read the book aloud. Your wicked intention was still concealed from the woman’s eyes.

She read the page and moved on to the next. Her voice was like a feather caressing your ears, and you listened, truly listened to her but no matter how interesting it was, your mind still drifted to the sheer blue dress she wore, “It's  so sheer I can see the outline of your nipples.”

You traced the swell of her breast. She gasped, lips falling apart.

You turned to her after not hearing her speak, “Why’d you stop? Keep reading, please. I love it when you talk.” 

She looked at you, confused. You nestled your head on her chest and wrapped your arm around her waist. Nevertheless, she cleared her throat and read the words but soon her mind was torn and her body became warm, tingling with anticipation and felt her nipples getting sensitive and hard against the soft material of her nightgown.

You kept caressing her side, made several sensual comments about her choice of clothing, how it gave away the curve of her body, how her chest was barely covered, how it made you feel certain things while ushering her to continue everytime she would halt to catch her breath.

“You feel so tense, love. Are you okay?” Larissa could hear you mocking her even if the way you said the words were far too soft and laced with concern before pointing out that her nipples were hard causing her cheeks to be flashing red, her grip on the book became tight. 

“Don’t break it apart.” Larissa whimpered as your lips touched the shell of her ear, your fingers rolling the hardened nipple through the diaphanous material. 

You breathed her in, taking in the fragrance of vanilla and peach, “Keep going.” you husked when she stopped reading, her breath becoming shallow. She was losing control over herself. She should have known the moment you set your book aside and planted yourself beside her with that kind of spark in your eyes that you were plotting something. 

You pecked the spot behind her ear. It made the heat in her face more apparent than ever, that even her chest was glowing and sweat was forming despite the cool air.

Deciding toying with the woman was enough, you pressed your lips to her shoulder one last time before you repositioned yourself in between her legs and pulled her with vigour so she was now lying completely on her back, a yelp pushing past her lips. “Keep reading, please.” you said with a mischievous grin, entertained with how your woman was gawking at you.

It didn’t take you long to pull her underwear from the neverending length and kiss your way up from her calves to the inner thighs, to her centre that was glistening pink, aching and ready, covered by a thin patch of blonde hair. Her smell aroused you, it was so distinct in the air you breathe.

She was so fucking wet and you smirked. You smiled, feeling the victory tugging at each corner of your lips. 

Larissa bucked her hip, impatient for you to take her, you didn’t waste more time. The tip of your tongue licked the path of her slit from the bottom to her clit, swelling with need. Larissa became all moans and whimpers as you continued giving her cunt the attention it desperately needed, flicking it back and forth, left to right, making tight circles, before delving into her entrance the best you could with the length of your tongue.

In the midst of fucking her senseless with your tongue, you heard a clunk. You looked up to see Larissa with her head back against her pillow, both hands massaging her perky breasts, no book in sight.

You ate her out until her legs were shaking, thighs were closing hard against your head and you held her back, pushed her them apart and continued to slurp and suck the juices out of dripping wet cunt, her hands fisting on the sheets. When Larissa couldn’t take it anymore, she yanked you by the hair, your fingers easily replacing your tongue in the process. 

Larissa kissed you with fervour, sliding her tongue in your mouth, trying to taste herself. And she moaned into your mouth as you filled her in once more, her cunt saturated with more cum.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” 

The woman stayed silent, still caught up in the high of after-sex. Fuck, she was so sore and overstimulated. 

When you came back from the adjacent bathroom with a damped wash cloth, Larissa didn’t move an inch from her position. You cleaned her up, she whined when the cloth grazed her clit, “Oops, sorry.” you kissed her thigh, and continued wiping off the mess from her skin.

“I love you.” she finally said, wrapping her arm around you and scooting closer to rest her head on your chest. “I love you more.”

And soon, Larissa was asleep, snoring lightly against the skin of your neck. There was truly no better way to take out the stress from her than eating her out. 

[oph3liatlou]

— BLOODSHOT EYES

pairing(s); soft!gregory house x exhausted!female reader

warnings; mentions of death, drug usage/mentions (vicodin),

word count; 1,032 words.

proofread?; not really :,)

note from author; he makes me giggle (he is me).

summary; you stay late in the office - sleep deprived.

Seated in the dimly lit office at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, you were a relatively new addition to Dr. House's team, having been around for about two years. Your proficiency in your role was evident, whether assisting on various cases or independently solving medical mysteries.

Early evening cast a subdued ambiance when the door swung open, and in walked Dr. House.

"You still here?" he queried, his characteristic tone not betraying any surprise.

You didn't look up at him, when he spoke to you. There were books covering the large table in the middle of the room - and your head was buried in your computer. You just grunted in response to him - not really acknowledging he was even there.

House approached, limping dramatically and leaning heavily on his cane. A bit of a smirk played at his lips as he surveyed the scene.

"What's got you buried in your computer on a Friday night?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

You were clearly reading. "The case we're working on…" I grumbled. House had sent everyone home, seeing as they were all tired anyways and needed sleep. But you were relentless.

"Is not going anywhere." He stated matter-of-factly and with a hint of fatigue in his voice. It wasn't lost on him that you were burning the midnight oil - again. Your work ethic was admirable, albeit slightly unhealthy.

You rolled your eyes. "That's very reassuring." You paused, now turning your eyes away from the computer and burning into a book. "We can't just let her die."

"Of course not," his voice was sarcastic, but he was being genuine - which was odd in itself. "But we aren't going to figure it out tonight, and no one works best when they're sleep deprived."

That hadn't stopped him in the past.

"I'm not tired." You rebutaled quickly, shifting in your seat as your fingers trailed on the book pages. You were starting to go crossed eyed from reading so much.

"You sure?" His voice was laced with the same sarcasm, although there was a hint of concern, maybe - though it was difficult to decipher. House had a tendency to mask his emotions, especially when it came to caring for his team, a vulnerability he often preferred to disguise.

He took a seat opposite you, his gaze briefly landing on the stack of books.

"I'm fine." You retorted.

"You're clearly not," his tone was blunt, not caring in the slightest whether or not you were offended by what he said. "You've been here 26 hours without a break. You're exhausted and therefore inefficient - go home."

House's expression turned sour as your comment about Vicodin slipped through your lips. He glared at you, his face dark with disapproval.

"My drug use isn't the same as you being sleep-deprived on the job."

This was the first time you looked at him since he had come into the office. "You're right - your drug use is worse."

"Don't even start," his words were sharp and biting. "Don't compare yourself to me. Your health is far more important."

He shifted his weight awkwardly, the pain in his leg causing him to grimace. It was clear he needed rest too.

"You're not even arguing back, you really are tired." He rolled his eyes in a somewhat caring manner, not in annoyance.

"Go. To. Bed."

"Not until I figure this out."

House was silent, his gaze heavy on you as he leaned on his cane. He seemed to be considering your words, but ultimately, his expression was unreadable.

He shifted his weight, a grimace passing across his face as he put more pressure on his injured leg. "You do what you want," he said finally, his tone neutral. The words hung in the air between you, each of you knowing that the other had a valid perspective.

With a slight nod, House turned and limped towards the chair in the office.

You glanced over at him for a moment. "Why are you staying?" You knew he was just going to sit there and nap - instead of being useful.

"Don't you want me here?" His voice was soft but teasing. House had a habit of pushing people's buttons - and he seemed to take pleasure in it.

"Besides - I'm your boss. I can't leave you all alone in my office." He gave a half-grin as he spoke, his eyes still closed.

You tried to roll your eyes at him but, you were so sleep deprived that you could barely even blink. Your eyes also hurt from squinting at the computer screen and burying your head in the books.

"Scared I'll find your secret Vicodin stash?" You questioned quietly before glancing over. "You hide it in the empty flower vase on the shelf, behind your desk."

House's eyes snapped open when you mentioned the hidden Vicodin stash. How the hell did you know where he kept it?

"You're a smartass." He growled, pushing off from the couch to sit up, now wide awake.

That was when he stood up - limping back over to the table you were sitting at and closing your laptop silently. You looked up at him, your eyes bloodshot.

He leaned down towards you, making sure you were looking at him. His voice was serious, but not angry or frustrated, just...concerned.

"Go home. Now. I will see you tomorrow." he spoke, his tone not leaving room for arguments, before turning and walking to the door "And don't try to argue." he added, though you could hear a slight chuckle escape him. He had a soft spot for you, you knew it - and he didn't try to hide it.

"They will still be here tomorrow." He started grabbing all the books you had laid out, closing them. "Now, go, before I call Wilson to carry you out of here like a baby."

You smiled a tired smile. "Wilson doesn't scare me." But regardless, you stood and grabbed your bag.

"Good, you listen to me. For once." He grinned, and though it wasn't mean-spirited, there was a hint of a taunt to it. He led you to the door.

"Now get some sleep. You look like death."