#ughh even in game form hes still hot

[thewebspinner]

T-1000 - Mortal Kombat I : Khaos Reigns

[attemptinghaikyuu]

Butterflies

A/n: feeling lots of feelings for Yachi at the moment and also I’m pretty sure it’s national girlfriend day so ;)

*G/n reader

———————

It had happened before you knew it. He was all too inclined to shove himself into your life and despite all warning signs that he wasn’t the kind of person you should have around, you’d let him in. And you’d caught feelings.

Butterflies fluttered and leapt at just the mention of his name now. He made things fuzzy and warm. It could’ve been the worst day of your life and his sympathetic smile, small look of concern, followed by a hug could completely flip everything around. You understood that you were being played with, he acted like your boyfriend at times and in that moment, it was enough to satisfy your heart.

But it wasn’t real. It was obvious by the look in his eyes that he had you wrapped around his finger and he enjoyed the game. He was messing with you and he liked it. And yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about how wrong it was.

Him telling you he was busy when all his friends told you he wasn’t. Walking away with someone new at the party he’d invited you to. Grabbing your hand and teasing you only to drop it when something else caught his attention. Someone else.

Lies upon lies, sugarcoated and sweet. You wanted every last one.

You’d take any little bit of him that he was willing to give. Because he made things warm and fuzzy and that was all that mattered, right?

But those butterflies were breaking you. The relationship that you were stuck in hurt and you could feel scars forming.

You found yourself retreating to a small cafe more often then not when the stress of your situation became too much. Just to think on things.

It’s not like he ever said we were dating, and shouldn’t I be happy I just get to be around him..? Ughh, he shouldn’t be allowed to be cute… he also shouldn’t be allowed to tell me he thinks I’m special and not mean it…..

You sigh, checking your phone. It’s just for the time, though you have to ignore the sting of disappointment at the lack of notification from his contact. You’re distracted and while the warm drink in your hand gives you comfort, you’re still trapped in your own world. You don’t even notice the small, blonde girl in front of you as you stand to leave.

You walk right into her, dropping your drink and finally snapping out of your funk.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and oh, oH YOUR SHIRT, IM REALLY SORRY!”

Your drink is all over her, it hadn’t been hot enough to burn or hurt her, but judging by the yelp of surprise she lets out, it caught her off guard. You grab as many napkins as you can fit into your hands and rush to help her clean the shirt. A shirt that looked really nice and expensive.

You feel awful. And apparently this is the tipping point to the shitty way you’ve been feeling. Tears spring to your eyes and instead of apologizes, choked sobs are all that spill out of your mouth.

The girl is an angle you conclude.

She grabs your hands and pulls you to a small table in the back of the cafe, away from the judgmental stares that were being thrown your way. She tells you it’s alright and while slightly awkward, rubs your back comfortingly. Her honey orbs shine with worry and while she seems shy, still encourages you not to worry about the clothes.

That night, you end up spilling all your problems to a complete stranger. And when you’re calmed down she pulls you in for a hug. A hug you hadn’t realized you needed till she had her arms around you.

You exchange contact info, with a promise to pay her back despite her protests that it wasn’t needed.

It’s the pebble to a landslide. After a day of talking and getting to know one another to a deeper extent, your days are suddenly filled with a new warmth. One that went by the name Yach Hitoka. She was sweet and jumpy. Easily scared by things and yet surprisingly brave. Getting caught in the small, bright whirlwind that was Yachi wasn’t planned, but you didn’t mind.

You slowly found you cared less and less about the person who had so painfully captured your heart before. A text from him couldn’t possibly matter when you were at the theater to see the new movie Yachi had mentioned.

Why would his offer to go to a party be enticing, when Yachi had gotten tickets for the two of you to go to the carnival you had seen a poster of in town, during a walk together?

It was funny how quick you were to pick up on your feelings for someone who hadn’t cared. And now, so happy and caught up in thoughts of Yachi, you were completely blind to the new flutterings taking place.

It was when, out on a casual outing at the park, that realization hit.

Yachi and you were sitting, chatting about any and every little thing that came to mind, when she leaned against you.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you, it was at this point, a normal occurrence for the both of you. The warmth it brought was always accompanied by thoughts of how nice of a friend Yachi was. She was always able to give you those feelings that you thought you’d be stuck with for one troublesome person forever more.

You were so lucky to have gotten over that guy, and all thanks to your…

Wait what was Yachi to you..?

She was your friend, wasn’t she? Or actually your feelings felt really similar to how you’d felt before with him. Maybe more so.

Suddenly, you’re so embarrassed you can’t look down at her. She’s still leaning on you and you wonder what the hell you’re supposed to do now. When you’d attempted asking the person of your affections out before it had gone disastrously.

Yachi was completely different though, basically the complete opposite. Asking her out was worth a shot.

“Hey, umm, Hitoka? I was kinda wondering-

“WOULD YOU SAY THIS IS A DATE?” Yachi’s face is completely red, staring at you with nervous hope. Lost in your worries, you’d failed to notice her nervous fidgeting and looks of determination sent your way.

You stare in surprise, before a smile so big spreads across your cheeks that it hurts. Yachi really knew how to give you butterflies.

You answer her question and cupping her cheeks (still completely red), leave her with a quick kiss before grabbing her hands, to pull her up.

“What do you say we head to that new cafe, little butterfly?”

[the-fiction-witch]

Apologies P3

REAL LIFE:  COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: MEAN + SAD + DARK 

I stood at my locker sorting out my books for class "Hey Y/n Manatee" A voice smirked I turned around and saw Thomas trying to peek under my skirt "Ughh! Get off you dirty Bastard!" I complained "I was just having a look Y/n" He smirked giving my butt a slap "Get off Thomas!" "fine, You spoil all my fun fat ass" he smirked before he walked off to his class so I sighed finishing up my stuff and heading to my class "Excuse me miss Lewis?" The teacher asks holding her ruler "Yes miss?" "In roll that skirt this instant! You know your not allowed your skirt above the knee" "Ohh... I'm sorry miss but it's not rolled" "Then pull it down!" "I can't miss I won't go anymore down..." I began "Don't argue with me! To the deputy heads office now!" She ordered so I went almost crying going and sitting on the little chair outside for a while "What are you doing here?" He asked as he walked past with a cup of coffee and a donut "Miss Ola sent me because of my skirt" I answered so he let me inside his office shutting the door behind me as I stood with my books "Alright, skirt violation... It is above the knee miss Lewis" he warns "I know sir but you see... Because of it zipping at the waist it won't go down anymore, if I push it down it won't zip up" I explain "Ohh that's ridiculous!" He laughs coming and tugging on my skirt noticing it wouldn't budge due to my hips "humm... It would seem your skirt is too small that will solve the zip and length issue,go and buy a bigger one from the school shop' "But sir... As the school requires uniform to be bought from the school, this is the largest sold" "Right" he sighed "I've had quite enough of your talking back you lady!" "But sir-" "Enough!" He yelled "I'm sending you home, come back with a longer skirt, a bigger skirt, or loose some weight!" "Yes sir" I said as I took my note from my parents and went home giving it to my mother as soon as I got in "But you can't help they don't sell them any bigger!" She yelled and I nodded in tears "and that dam school charges twenty pounds a skirt, that's it I'm buying from stones and sewing the dam logo on myself!"

I took my books as the bell rang running off to the little computer room that was my form room, I never liked eating in the canteen and it's not like I had freinds to sit with on the yard so I would always go and read in my form room as the library didn't allow food, so I opened the door seeing the room dark and empty so I clicked on the lights "Fuck off!" A voice shouted from within "Thomas?" I asked as I did recognise the voice "Turn the fucking lights off manatee!" He yelled so I turned all but one off as he sat on the floor at the back of the room tears staining his face "Are you okay?" "What the bloody hell do you care manatee?" "I don't know why I should" I sighed "but I do so ... What's wrong?" "Lindsey broke up with me okay! Happy now!" "Are you alright?" "Yeah I'm fine" he sighed "Do you want some gum?' I offered he turned and gently smiled at me taking a couple prices as I sat close to him but still keeping my distance "you must have really liked her?" I smiled as I had some gum too "Not really" "Then why where you dating her?" "I don't know," he shrugs "the guys say shes hot? Her dad's rich? I don't know just kinda assumed I had to" "Why did you have to?" "Because she's like the second hottest girl in our year so... Kinda have to date her?" "Didn't you like anything about her?" "I don't know, uhh I liked making out with her?" He shrugs "Isn't it kinda a given that you enjoy making out with most people you make out with?" I asked "I guess so" he laughs "Mind me asking why she broke up with you?" "She wanted to go out with Daniel" he sighed having to sniffle and wipe a tear "Fucking Daniel" I sighed probably the person I hate most below Thomas "Whoa" he laughs "What?" "I think that's the first time I've ever heard you swear manatee?" He laughs "you should do it more often... Kinda suits you" I looked at the clock and but wouldn't be long till next period and my class was across the school so I got up giving him some more of my gum "Talk to your brother when you go home I'm sure he'll help out Thomas" I smiled going to the door "Hey!" He yelled across the room as he got up wiping his eyes "thanks Y/n" "Your welcome Thomas"

I signed up for this year's fall production but to be on the stage team of course, wearing all black, knowone knows you exist all I wanted out of life. Unfortunately a certain blonde someone also ended up on the stage hand team but lately... Thomas hadn't been causing me much trouble, yeah I caught him sneaking peaks up my skirt ever so often and he still called me names but I had bigger things to worry about. I stood on the stage doing all the mic rigs I job I did enjoy its like playing a video game because you couldn't put them too close or they squeal but too far you don't pick anything up from performers even if they where all rehearsing across the school while we where setting up and running music and lighting ques it felt like it took hours even if I was enjoying it plus being in black under heavy stage lights was making me quiet hot somehow I ended up the only one on the stage for a while as everyone else had gone to there bags for drinks and such I spotted Thomas stood in his black tee and his black school trousers his white shirt sleaves rolled up to cuff around his black theatre shirt having a drink from his blue bottle "Hey uhh Y/n right?" One of the six form boys on the control panel at the back asked "Yeah?" I asked into a mic as they wouldn't hear me I'd I didn't "Can you just uhh stand in the middle for me, and sing something real quick we just need to check for the chorus girls!" He yelled to me I did as I was told a little nervous being under these lights, everyone could see me, everyone would hear me and judge me and look at my body "just anything okay! It doesn't matter it's just for sound" I didn't know what to do or how to feel about it as I felt a million eyes all over me... "I dreamed a dream in time gone by, when hope was high and life worth living, I seemed that love would never die, I dream that would god would be forgiving" I sang I couldn't see anything but the harsh light from the stage lights nothing but light and flickers of people in wings "that okay?" "Uhhh yeah, yeah that's fine" he nodded so I ran to my bag burring my head in it as I got a drink, I could feel all there eyes but tried to ignore them "right that's a wrap for tonight guys, see you all tomorrow!" So I grabbed a bag and coat almost running out avoiding the clicks of freinds as I headed out and down the street towards home, I felt eyes behind me so I glanced and saw Thomas with his bag following at a distance behind me so I kept walking but unable to ignore his eyes as he looked at me "What?" I asked "What?" He laughs "Stop following me!" "I'm going home, I can't help we live the same way manattee" he laughs So I kept walking "stop looking at me!" "I'm just walking and looking Infront of me" he smirked "not my fault that means you manattee" "Well stop it's creepy!" "Why did you not tell anyone?" "About what?" "You know exactly what" he smirked as he walked backwards on the road he walked backwards looking at me as he walked slightly Infront of me walking the white line along the road "I don't know what your talking about" "Don't you?" He laughs "since when could you sing like that?' "Since forever," "I've been with you since day one of primary school manatee how the hell did I not know?' "I don't like stages and you never asked" "Why don't you go audition for the roles? Rather then being stuck on the tech team?" "I have what they call a radio face" I sighed "and a radio body, honestly just a indoor non face to face world is what I'm meant for" I sighed "you should know you've been telling me since I was five" "Y/n..." he said clearly going to start something but I went into my gate "come on Y/n wait-" he began but I shut the door to the house

I stood organizing the closet for the drama department it was full of costumes and props from classes, exams, performances and shows. I offered to tidy it on my lunch break as I had little else to do this lunch and it got me away from everyone else. I heard the door open assuming it was a teacher but... They didn't call, I froze thinking who could be there as I stood putting a 20's showgirl dress on a hanger from bugsy Malone last year "Hey manattee" a voice smirked as I felt a hand on my waist, I instantly pushed it away turning to see... Not Thomas but Daniel, the dark haired football boy that had been long freinds with Thomas but they had drifted apart as Daniel focused on football, that and the matter of Lindsey "how are ya doing?" He smirked "Fine, what do you want?" I asked as I worked "Not much just... Figured as we had a little alone time" he smirked putting his hand on my skirt but I pushed him away "Get off Daniel!" "Ohh come on manatee, there's so much off you I just wanna touch a couple of bits" he smirked grabbing my boobs "I said no Daniel!" I yelled hitting his hands away "I wasn't asking manatee" he laughed pushing me hard onto the pile of set boxes and foam props... I don't remember much of exactly what happened, I don't think mentally I was there in my body, my soul abandoned my body for half an hour leaving my body as it screamed and cried begging for help that no matter how much she screams will never come. When he left I remember feeling so strange and horrible like I was broken, I just remembered going to my English class sitting alone at the back of class and wanting to cry but I think I was all cried out "You alright Y/n?" The teacher asked and I didn't answer I didn't know how to unsure of what has just happened to me and unsure of how to just sit back into a lesson like nothing happened "just try to finish a story before the end of class" she says handing me some paper and a work sheet I just wrote a story about a woman who dreamed of living on a cloud so knowone would ever see her and that whenever she got sad it would start raining like the clouds wanted her there too but no matter how hard they both tried they both failed. As soon as class was over I went home the house empty as my family was away, and I just collapsed right there against the front door crying into the dark and empty house holding myself so tightly that it hurt, I cried, I screamed, I burnt, I cut, I did everything and nothing would ever truly numb the pain.

[ragehappysecretsanta]

Raising the Bar

Author: https://gala0apples.tumblr.com/

Recipient: http://samijen.tumblr.com

Summary: AHWU has gotten much more entertaining since they added the mailbag section. It’s pretty hard to beat a bouncy castle. Isn’t it?

Warnings: the rating is NC17. This fic contains under-negotiated kink.

Wordcount: 3223

Ao3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12916137

It’s not like any of the main room are avoidant of mail-day poor life choices. Maybe Geoff-- His soul is so crushed there’s no room left for shenanigans. But Ryan has a truly formidable weapon collection that he likes to juggle at random. Gavin keeps creating games that are half for Olympic hopefuls, half for the kinkily masochistic. Jeremy can admit he’s made a few bad choices when it comes to food. That all said, Jeremy never expected to enter the poor decision realm of whether it’s appropriate to bust a nut at work.

His weakness for Michael is well-known on many levels. The audience knows of it on the level of him never actively proclaiming hate for Michael, which he does with Geoff and Gavin, and in this case the absence of the standard negative is a rare positive. Gavin knows it in that he acts like he’s discovered a cheat code; attempt to bet Michael with half a dozen ludicrous and dangerous activities and a few will trickle down to Jeremy. The deepest level is Geoff being the only one in the office to know he’s bi, and more than that, has feelings about the perpetually single Michael Jones.

It all comes down to chance. If Jack or Ryan had opened it, it probably would have been tossed straight away. If Gavin, another weird against OSHA game. But it’s Michael who opens the small package addressed to the main room. It’s Michael who pulls out a black leather collar. And it’s Michael who decides that, just like the nurse outfit, the boxers at RTX 2015, and the lady killer sweater, this is something that the audience wants to see. For some reason unknown even to God, he puts it on.

Jeremy is electrocuted into dead silence as Michael straps the leather around his own neck. Anything he could say would only draw attention to himself, but it’s not for self-preservation that he doesn’t speak. His brain just drops the feed to his mouth. He doesn’t even blame his poor overloaded think-box. Who could manage coherence with a thin inch of black bisecting Michael’s neck, meeting in the middle of his adam’s apple by way of a large silver ring? It’s just impossible.

Eventually self preservation kicks in. Jeremy retreats from the main camera area to his desk so he can start setting up the transport needed in GTA. It’s basically busywork until Jack and Trevor and Matt get in, but it gives him good reason to be at his computer instead of wandering through the room contributing comments and opening presents like he normally would.

In an instant it happens. Michael looks over and notices that Jeremy is hard before Jeremy can notice that Michael is looking at him. Jeremy turns his chair the moment he sees Michael’s focus of attention, but it’s too late. He’s been outed. To Michael, of all conceivable people. It’s Jeremy’s worst nightmare. Maybe he would have come out eventually. Jon and Mariel both managed with no big fuss. But that would definitely have waited until Jeremy felt like he’d gotten over him, until he had nothing to hide anymore. This is nowhere close to that time.

Michael’s reaction is... not what Jeremy would have expected. First he makes a groan of disgust, and Jeremy feels like he’s covered in lightning. All of his skin is crawling, and an instant headache is coming on. Michael’s going to point out exactly what has disgusted him, and Jeremy’s going to have to go jump off of a bridge. But he’s going to be a goddamn man about it. He twists his chair back to look in Michael’s direction, as do a few of the other guys in the room. If Michael’s going to call him out, he’s going to do it holding eye contact. Except instead Michael throws a hand to his stomach, and curls over himself. “Oh, fuck. Ughh. I’m constipated as fuck.”

“Oh no, boi,” Gavin says.

Michael turns to look Jeremy directly in the eye. “I’m going to the shitter. Might not come out until something happens.”

That means something, right? It has to mean something. Jeremy’s got a life long relationship with Fate saying it’s something, and after Fate has pulled through on the big stuff, like winning bronze at the biggest gymnastics event he ever attended, and a job at Rooster Teeth, Jeremy tries to listen to the sense that certain things are meant to be.

There’s not a lot of stealth ways to directly follow Michael out of the room, but Jeremy tries to brainstorm. He considers for the briefest of moments making a big deal of taking a camera with him like he’s gonna go cause a ruckus somewhere, but that’s rejected. What if Gavin or Trevor wants to join in? Jeremy also rejects the idea of claiming he has a meeting. It just raises too many questions, like what is it that can’t be said by text or slack, that only pertains to him. Not to mention the other party might be asked something and, fairly, be completely clueless and not cover for him. In the end it’s easiest to just leave the room without saying anything at all.

Michael is not actually in the nearest washroom. For a moment Jeremy feels sick. Sad and pathetic. Is he really that desperate that he interpreted Michael needing to have a dump as being all about him? Talk about stereotypical queer, picking up signals that aren’t there from the straight boy. Except, no. If Michael really did just need to crap instead of trading handjobs, he totally would be in one of these stalls, making it reek. The only thing that makes sense is he must have taken advantage of Rooster Teeth being a more multi-platform company than ever. The live action production staff have tiny bathrooms with individual toilets and showers for when the slime or blood or dirt has to go under the collar and past the hems.

With the confidence that only the horny can have, Jeremy knocks on the first locked door and calls out in a fierce whisper “Michael?” Fuck, please let him be right. Please let him be right.

His answer comes in the form of the door clicking as it unlocks. Jeremy’s stomach hurts. He’s on the precipice of success, yeah. But that only means if Michael pulls out a camera to document the joke -or even more terrifyingly, it is queerbait and now he’s going to kick the shit out of him- this is the moment he falls off the cliff into brutal jagged rocks. But there’s no way, right? He’s corrected Gavin’s pronouns for Kdin, he’s laughed at Geoff’s circlejerk stories, he’s never been weird around Max Krumke or Patrick. He can’t be Westboro Church in a New Jersey package. “Michael?”

“Hey,” Michael says in return. This doesn’t look like a set up. Michael seems totally normal, apart from the fetish-wear that Jeremy is having trouble looking away from. The anxiety melts away as quickly as it flared up.

“Was that a summons, or just overshare about your bowels?”

Michael drops onto his knees, light coloured denim totally incongruous with the faux woodgrain linoleum. He arches his head back so the leather cinched around his throat is bared. The light makes the O-ring glint. “What do you think?”

Jeremy is frozen for an eternity, the lifespan of a star. There’s no way this is actually happening, right? Fate guiding him towards goodness or not, this is insane.

Jeremy suddenly thinks of two thick bands of tough leather wrapped around both of Michael’s biceps, the muscles he’s working so hard to enhance. They would pin Michael’s arms to his side, and a strap connecting them across his back would prevent him from struggling for leverage. That mental image is the last straw. Jeremy shrugs off his overshirt, and impatiently tugs the hem out of his jeans so the undershirt can go next. He might not need to get naked right away, but he can at least flash some skin in a way that Michael might be into. He knows barrel chested isn’t a body type for everyone, but considering Michael’s actively working towards it, Jeremy’s feeling pretty confident. Pretty hot.

Michael knee walks a few steps closer until he’s within touching distance. It’s not quite crawling to master, but it’s a hell of a lot more than Jeremy could have reasonably expected. Michael snakes his arms around Jeremy’s hips to grab his ass and pull him in closer. Like he would have resisted. Michael breathes heavily on his groin, face a weight on his upper thigh. Jeremy bites his lips as he feels the noticeable difference in temperature. Even if Michael nopes out in the next second, Jeremy will always have this sensation. He’ll jerk off to Michael’s hot breath gliding over his dick for the next twenty years.

Jeremy runs his fingers through Michael’s hair -not the loose mass of curls it used to be, but it’s still got some texture- before letting his right hand drift lower to Michael’s neck. The collar feels as prominent as it looked. It’s a ridge against Michael’s throat that separates the valleys between normal and kinky. In this moment he feels like he could stand like this for hours, holding Michael in place with a simmer of lust never quite boiling over. That’s the kind of kink, though, that needs a lot of negotiation first. Daydreams aside, Jeremy knows that’s not what’s going on here. He pulls his hand back up and uses both to push Michael’s head away from his junk. Not that he really wants to escape that hot air, but he needs the room to get his pants down.

It’s the work of seconds to get his dick out. Michael’s face looks so good, freckled and waiting, that Jeremy almost hates to bring him back close and obscure it. He’s a little too into this, he thinks. He cares more than Michael does. But he’s dominant, and that feeling of desperation to control and protect is never going to go away, so better to just deal with it. Sooner or later he’ll find someone who wants to be the recipient of all those strong feelings. Until then Jeremy knows he needs to chill the fuck out, and offer only as much dominance as his partner will accept.

Michael doesn’t have much finesse. There’s not a lot of technique, like concentrating on the head, or following the veins. What he does have working in his favour is an apparent lack of reflex. It makes sense, Jeremy figures with the tiny fraction of brain he has that’s not fixated on the experience. How many early days videos are there of Michael eating some horrifying crap and downing it without blinking while people like Burnie and Gav die one bite in? His throat must be hella desensitized. Still, Jeremy doesn’t feel too bad for not making the logic leap of ‘can drink a full bottle of barbeque sauce without gagging’ to ‘can swallow my cock without gagging’. In fact, he’s sort of happy he didn’t waste months daydreaming all iterations of it. Michael’s skill is a pleasant surprise. You could even say a mind fuck, based on the way Jeremy thinks his entire conscious being might fucking combust and burn to nothing. Michael’s nose is against his pubes, literally there, which means he’s easily accepting six inches of cock.

With the last vestiges of brainpower he pulls out. He needs to make sure Michael is okay with this, that it’s not just what he thinks Jeremy wants. What if he actually hates deepthroating, but previous lovers have demanded it? It’s only hot to demand when both parties have agreed to put demanding on the table.

“Should we- shit, fuuuck.” Michael’s chosen to ignore Jeremy’s move of pulling out, he’s gone right back to sucking him. It’s a bit of a struggle to focus, but Jeremy continues his line of thought. “Should we pick safewords or something?” All the porn that Jeremy watches that’s not completely ludicrous and terrible have subs picking them out, even if they never use them.

Michael’s the one to move away this time, just enough so to look Jeremy in the face so he can see his unimpressed raised eyebrows. “I’m blowing you, we’re not dripping hot candlewax up my asshole. We’re fine.”

“Okay. Uh, but-”

Michael doesn’t let him stay on that track any longer. He resumes the blowjob and it cuts all of Jeremy’s coherence. See, the problem -does it count as a problem if it’s awesome?- is this time it’s different. Michael’s started like, humming or talking to himself or something. Jeremy would find it endearing, the way Michael’s never stops talking, if he wasn’t gripping the sink counter trying to not fall over. The vibrations- christ on a dinner plate, Jeremy can feel every single vibration.

He loses control for a moment when he comes. Yet another thing they didn’t lay down guidelines for; fluid exchange. Only in this case Jeremy doesn’t give Michael much of a choice. He slips his fingertips between the collar and Michael’s neck and all but holds him in place. Jeremy can feel Michael’s throat quivering as he swallows. It might be one of the best orgasms of his life, or at least one most true to his kinky fantasies.

Of course, next up is making this as good for Michael as it has been for him. Jeremy’s mind runs wild with scenarios. He wants to tie Michael with both their belts like a really thick shibari and blow him. He wants to make Michael keep blowing him until he gets hard again and can fuck him. He wants Michael to be submissive enough to be okay with not coming because his master did. He wants to spank Jersey Boy until he comes from sensation alone, crying, body confused if it’s in agony or ecstasy. However, none of those have been negotiated for, and Jeremy’s well aware that they’re odd enough choices that he can’t just start doing one.

“Stand up, man.”

Michael does, still licking his lips. Licking up the spunk that overflowed from his open mouth. Honest to god, Jeremy might have to draw this from memory at home tonight. Jeremy unbuckles Michael’s belt and tugs down his jeans. That Michael’s letting him be a little rough isn’t surprising at this point, but it still thrills him.

Barring other, more extreme options, Jeremy decides on a handjob. Who doesn’t like a handjob? He spits into his hand to ease the stroke, but Michael is evidently the kind of guy who produces precome like a mo’fo. Each pass from head to base and back Michael feels a little wetter. As he gets closer to the edge he curls down on himself again, this time a genuine movement. His forehead ends up buried in Jeremy’s shoulder and they have enough height difference that it’s actually a significant bend. For the second time today, Jeremy has to bite the inside of his cheek as he feels Michael’s hot damp breath heat his skin. A newfound kink of his, apparently, though god knows how he’ll search for it on XTube.

Jeremy’s careful about the angle of Michael’s cock when he comes. Thank the Gods of Quick Cleanup, it ends up mostly on the floor instead of on their clothes.

Michael doesn’t seem to be one for a long afterglow. Or maybe it’s just the circumstances. Either way, he’s picking up his jeans far before Jeremy’s ready to stop looking at his hot, spent body. It’s Jeremy’s cue to rinse his hands in the sink and start fixing his own clothes. His undershirt gets stuck to his sweaty skin, and it’s a bitch and a half to tug it into place.

There they are, both standing dressed and ready for life to go on. Except Jeremy’s not completely sure how to make that happen. “What do we do now?”

“Well you should go find some shit to explain why you’ve been gone, and I’m gonna play Crossy Road on my phone for ten minutes to really drive home the illusion of ass-shattering fast food shits.”

“Um, okay. Yeah that makes sense.” Fuck, what did he even say when he left the room? It was less than twenty minutes ago, but his brain has offloaded that memory to better imprint this one.

Michael watches for a minute then continues, “but that’s clearly not what you meant, because you’re still standing here, so, what?”

Man is this not the sweetest post-orgasm pillow talk Jeremy’s ever had. And definitely nothing like how his aftercare kink fantasies go either. “I dunno.”

“Jeremy!” Michael snaps.

“Look, do you want to play video games after work maybe. Or maybe more sex?”

“Depends. Do you want me to keep the collar?”

How in the sweet fucking hell is Jeremy supposed to answer that? The honest answer is Jeremy has spent the last ten years gathering a porn collection where two or more individuals do brutal shit, exert each other enough that it has to end with cuddling and soothing words and spreading arnica over the worst of the bruises. But if Michael doesn’t lean that way -and honestly all accounts point to Michael having more of a dressing up fetish than anything else- it might be off-putting as fuck. Why else would he ask, if it wasn’t a deal maker or breaker?

Jeremy goes with honesty, as clueless as it makes him seem. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

Michael makes a face at him. “Step one. If you want us to do shit, be more fucking decisive.”

Uggggh. Here goes nothing, and by nothing he means his sex life and his future of being happy. “Fine. Have it around your neck and wear something that goes with it, when I come over at nine.”

Michael laughs, a big smirking thrilled chuckle, like it’s the middle of Off Topic and someone just fucked up pouring their beer. “That’s more like it, Lil J.”

Jeremy knows he’s sealed his professional doom. He’s absolutely going to flub a hundred times the rest of the day, every time he thinks about Michael naked except for a collar and wristcuffs thick like the sweat bracelets he always used to wear when Jeremy was still a fan. Or maybe it’ll be leather with leather, the collar and jeans tight enough to show off his ass and a GTA style bomber jacket with no shirt underneath. Or hell, maybe Michael’s got a slutty club kid persona; the collar and a mesh shirt and electric blue short shorts. It seems unlikely, but so did the latex fetish nurse outfit.

“Earth to Lil J. Go the fuck back to work, I’ll be out in a bit.”

Yeah, he’s already doing it. There goes any nice future YouTube comments for today’s uploadable content. Still, it’s a small price to pay for knowing Michael’s got the residue of his come on his tongue until he drinks his next beer, and that that and more will happen tonight.