#we did get a few morsels

[writer-ish]

book 4 m*shka i'm begging you let m going down on the detective challenge

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | four

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: after a conference in new york, you and j miller phd take things a step further. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, i think i describe reader as having sweaty palms about 1500 times so it deserves a warning, alcohol consumption, the plight of being a woman in academia, oral [f receiving], unprotected piv sex [IN A BED ??? GASP] for you filthy animals, prone bone, a little roughness and then not much at all, uhhh pet names during sex.... uhhmm intimacy errrrrr.... soft!joel... feelings... okay bye word count: 9.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: hey folks, thank you so much for all your patience as i took my sweet sweet time writing this. we get to know our prof a little better in this one so a fair amount of dialogue for you but yeah anyways i hope you enjoy it, and i'd love to hear what you think! [and if i Fell Off because of the depression, don't tell me lol] A WORD ABOUT THE TAG LIST: i will continue the taglist for this part and for part five, and after that i will rely solely on my notifications account @hier--soirupdates so pls follow that and turn on notifs to be told when i post writing x this is part four of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three.

Saturday.

The conference centre is vast.

A large space that protects you from the threatening clouds that loom over New York City, and exposes you to countless dense conversations.

An NYU teacher’s assistant is glued to your hip, parading you through the centre with a wayward index finger that points out the bar, the room where the keynote speech will be given [large, with an imposing stage], and the room where you will give your presentation [less large, with a far less imposing stage].

Your presentation.  

You fight the urge to pull up the email for the thousandth time while she explains how there will be fifteen minutes to set up beforehand, and advises on when the doors will open for guests, and reminds you that you have a strict allotted time of 20-minutes, do you understand?

But the email is branded on the inside of your eyelids after this morning’s flight was spent reading and rereading and rereading the words. So you nod and smile and placate her on the tour of the centre, as you run through it in your mind.

We look forward to welcoming you to NYU’s Annual Classics and Ancient History Conference. Our team was intrigued by the presentation devised around your translation study in Athens…

“Did you hear me?”

You wish she wasn’t dressed so casually.

Loose balls of lint are collected on the back of her cardigan like trinkets, weighty and threatening to fall off in a sort of bread crumb trail behind her every movement. It makes your dress feel all the more serious, all the more formal. Navy blue and a little tight, with sleeves that slant across the middle of your bicep and a hem that cuts modestly across your lower thigh. Professional, smart, sexy, but not too sexy. You and Nora spent two hours at the mall picking it out last weekend. And you can see people in suits, in blazers, in dresses, everywhere you turn, but your eyes keep returning to the TA’s cardigan. Little pills, sad morsels of broken fabric.

She says your name sharply.

“Yes,” you snap to attention, and clock her poor attempt not to roll her eyes. “You were saying?”

“It’s an open bar,” she continues from a few steps ahead, slowly back away while raising her voice to be heard over the countless others sprouting across the room. “And food is served after the Keynote.”

Finally free of her and her cardigan, you scale the edge of the hall, curious eyes glancing across faces familiar and not. You notice some other postgrads from UNE, and some professors from your alma mater. But it isn’t until three hours into the conference that you notice him.

You’re in a painfully long conversation with Professor Carmichael, an ancient history department head from Boston, when you notice them.

“Well you see,” he’s saying, slowly. “The First Roman Triumvirate was very unique. Surely you agree with me there, my dear?”

“Of course,” you nod amiably. A waiter floats past you holding a tray of glasses. You grasp one with a grateful smile, and turn back to face him with a sip of cold white wine moving down your throat. “The Big Three, it’s all very interesting. Although I must say, I am personally more interested in the second triumvirat—”

“Oh they all say that,” he waves his hand. “Everyone is so taken by Antony and Octavian that they forget about Crassus! So tragic.”

“A very tragic death,” you offer an exaggerated frown. “I agree.”

Carmichael hums, eyes narrowing as if you’ve said something wrong. Sipping your wine, your eyes float over his shoulder, determinedly trying to spot any sign of food, gaze spilling across countless faces and tables and waiters and professors until one set of people makes you pause.  Wild dark hair atop a floral dress floats in your vision, her pale hand hovering over the sleeve of a tall man in a suit. You watch the backs of their heads; the way the woman tilts her chin upward to speak to the man and laughs at what he says in return. That laugh. You frown, and feel yourself take a step forward, a step in their direction.

“Is something the matter?” Carmichael asks and you halt, flash him a sweet smile and shake your head.

“No,” you rush, practically tasting the opportunity to escape the conversation. “I’m sorry, Professor, I thought I saw someone waving me over. If you don’t min—”

“Always so many people to talk to at these things,” he says in a sing-song tone of voice, smiling obliviously. “All in due course, dear. You’ll find them later I’m sure.”

It’s not until fifteen minutes later that the tap comes on your shoulder. You turn and feel relief wash over you as you come face to face with Rachel, with her tangle of curls and bright orange dress. But then a jolt shudders through your frame, for you spot the man accompanying her; the man you watched her traipse around the room with, the man in the sleek black suit—Joel, hovering a step behind her.

“Rachel,” you blink. “Joel. Hi—”

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Rachel says. Her eyes are wide, lips pulled back into a crooked grin that immediately sets you at ease. Joel, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable to say the least. You watch him tuck his hands in his pockets and then take them out again quickly, lips pursed together in a tight line as he glances between you and Professor Carmichael.

“Joel,” she grips the sleeve of his blazer and tugs him forward to stand beside her. You watch where her hand grazes him - the ease with which she jostles him around. “Did you know?”

“No.” He stares for a moment, lips parted and eyes darting across your face, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t know.”

“I’m giving a presentation,” you explain quickly, eyes darting between the two of them, fingers tightening around your glass every time your eyes settle on him. He trimmed his beard again; the hairs are shorter, neater—almost too short and too neat for your liking. His shirt is pressed and crisp, shock white beneath the midnight black of his jacket. He’s wearing different glasses. Tortoise shell glasses. Someone clears their throat to your right, snapping you out of your reverie. You apologise quickly, “This is Professor Carmichael.”

“Of course,” Joel nods, stepping forward to grip the older man’s hand. “Good to see you again, Professor.”

“And you, Professor Miller,” Carmichael chuckles, patting a shaky hand against Joel’s shoulder. “When was the last time we crossed paths? A year ago?”

“Must’ve been a year,” Joel smiles easily. His eyes slip to look at you every few seconds. “The conference in Ottawa.”

“The conference in Ottawa!” Carmichael cheers, nodding away. A weight sinks in your stomach like a cinder block as you watch the Professor gear up to wrangle Joel and Rachel into another conversation about Crassus’ untimely demise. But then Rachel slips away, called out to by someone across the room. And before Carmichael can open his mouth, Joel is speaking again, that honeyed drawl like music to your ears.

“Excuse me, Professor Carmichael,” he smiles again. Two of his fingers grip your elbow, tugging you a step backward. “Do you mind if I steal my star student for a few moments?”

Joel tilts your body to the left, and then the two of you are veering off into the crowd, wandering through throngs of people, his warm fingers pressed against the soft flesh above your elbow.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say under your breath, glancing around warily, trying to spy any curious eyes that might notice the two of you.   

“Could say the same thing,” he murmurs, dragging you to a stop at the edge of the hall with his eyebrows raised. “When’s your talk?”

“At one. Overlaps with the Keynote, which I’m a little relieved about,” you smile, a pinched, tense thing. “Hopefully everyone will go to that, and I’ll have a smaller crowd.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. You think you notice his shoulders stiffen. “S’that right?”

A persistent pang of hunger stabs through your stomach, you rub a hand over the front of your dress and nod. Curious brown eyes follow the movement.

“Here,” Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. His fingers graze your skin as he tucks the shiny rectangle of foil into your palm. “They don’t put out any food until after the Keynote.”

It’s a granola bar. Peanut butter and banana. You stare at it for a moment, almost dumbfounded by the kindness of the gesture. By how attentive he is; how much he notices without you even having to speak.

“Thanks,” you say. Nestle it into your purse and give him an appreciative smile.

“Sure,” he nods jerkily. Adjusts the glasses on his nose. “I’m disappointed to miss it.”

“Oh?” you blink. Your eyes focus then, flitting downward to focus on the badge hanging from his lanyard.

Joel Miller, Ph.D.

University of New England.

Keynote Speaker.

“Oh, shit.”

“Mhm,” Joel squints at you. “Sorry if I don’t share the sentiment that everyone comes to watch me instead of you.”   

“Why didn’t you…” you gape. “You didn’t say you were giving a talk?” 

“You didn’t ask.”

“The Keynote speech is a big deal,” you say, as if he wouldn’t know.

“I was their third choice,” he shrugs you off with practiced ease. “First two weren’t interested.”

“Third time lucky then,” you smile, and he chuckles. Someone calls Joel’s name then, and you both spin to see Rachel across the room with a group of people, all eagerly waving him over. Something nasty curls in your chest – something bitter and unwarranted and cruel. You smother it with a mouthful of wine and a soft smile of farewell to him as he turns and walks in her direction.

A hand clasps down on your shoulder and you flinch, turning to see Professor Carmichael beaming.

“Where were we then, my dear?”

You eat Joel’s granola bar at the back of the hall five minutes before your talk and walk onstage with the taste of peanut and banana on your lips, brushing crumbs of dried oats off your fingers.

Fifteen people attend, spotted miscellaneously across the amassed rows of chairs. The slide clicker is damp in your palm, and your thumb hovers trembling over the button, awaiting each moment you need to press down.

“Working alongside some fantastic translators,” you tell them. “We focused on studying the disparities between how Greek texts are translated by men and women. Particularly, we aimed to delve into the way emotive language has been downgraded or elevated depending on the lens through which a text is being viewed.”

Professor Carmichael sits in the front row, those sun-spot covered hands clasped in his lap, offering an encouraging smile as you shift upon the stage. Rachel is a few rows back, and she nods intently whenever you glance in her direction.

“One of our main points of focus,” you continue. “Was to understand points of difficulty in translating while accounting for cultural nuances, and how the context of differing authors can impact upon this. In my next slide—”

It’s as you turn to glance at the display that you notice them for the first time. Three rows from the front, where a group of men sit. Two of them young, maybe around your age. You change your slide and watch them whisper in each other’s ears. One of them points at you. Or not you, rather—your legs.

And you yearn for it to be meaningless. A meaningless gesture between colleagues. Meaningless legs, meaningless dress, meaningless curves and slopes and dips and spins. But as you continue, you know it can’t be. The way they talk through your presentation, as if they aren’t bothered to be heard. The way they leer at you over Carmichael’s shoulder, grinning to each other. Your words in one ear and out the other—simply a talking point for them, a blue dress, something to stare at. Your dress feels hot, tight, and your chest feels hotter, tighter under the lights as those eyes glaze over you. You glance back towards Rachel. She gives you a thumbs up that doesn’t serve to cool your nerves.

“When translating word for word in our field, it’s uncommon,” you stutter to a stop, eyes flashing warily. “Sorry, it is not uncommon to find that narratological creativity dwindles.”

You hear a chuckle to your right and swallow down the urge to shoot daggers in the direction of the sound. “Translators struggle to maintain the in-depth imaginative expression that the original Greek text inspires. But through my discussions with Professor Samaras, we found that…”

It’s in the final minutes that you notice him. Tucked away in a back row of the room, arms folded across his chest. You pause for a moment, words caught in your throat. But Joel merely gives you a short nod. The faintest hint of a smile, of the corner of his eyes slanting upward, and it’s as if a cool breeze washes over you. Hands steady, knees lock, and you push through. You don’t look at any of their faces until it’s over.

And when it is, and scattered applause decorates the air, you can’t help but cast a smile in Joel’s direction. A smile that slips and wavers when you spot the broad expanse of his back, that sharp black blazer, as he slips out the doors without wasting a second.

The rest of your audience follows suit, a slim line that wanders out the doors without a second glance—spare Carmichael, who tells you he was quite taken with how you presented yourself, my dear.

You hear your own name and turn to see Rachel approaching, a burst of floral frock and swinging earrings. Her smile is wide and crooked, and you can’t help but smile back.

“That was wonderful,” she cheers, squeezing your shoulder. “I was so taken by how you spoke about the importance of linguistic quality assurance when translating emotive texts. Brilliant!”

Your face warms. “Thank you,” you shake your head quickly. “It was… thank you. That’s very kind.”

You glance over her shoulder, wondering if he’ll reappear – perhaps share her sentiments, maybe shower you with praise. He doesn’t.

She catches you looking. “Joel was in a rush,” she offers easily. “Lots of people wanting to talk to the man of the evening.”

“Of course,” you swallow thickly. Another smile.

Rachel stares at you curiously. “He’s very impressed by you, you know.” Her voice is warm, gentle—soft spoken like a mother who can sense the slightest flash of insecurity. You cringe immediately, feel your arms cross protectively across your chest. Don’t give the game away now. “Honestly, I think he read your comparative paper on the katabasis three times. Practically raved about it when I asked what it was.”

“Oh,” you blink, shifting uneasily under her gaze. “That’s… wow, I’m flattered.”

“He sees a lot of potential in you,” she says.

“Right,” you nod. “Well, he’s a grea—you’re both great teachers. I’m very lucky to be learning from the two of you.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, and you fear your face grows warmer in the silence. Can feel the slick on your palms returning, the flash of heat in your chest, the longer you sit in it. You make a quick and tumbling excuse to flee the scene, spitting a mess of thank you so much and just need some fresh air, before you’re stumbling out of the hall and wandering outside on newborn deer legs. You snag a flute of something bubbly off the bar on your way, and find yourself on a secluded bench in the breezeway behind the conference centre.

You sit there alone and watch the grass, the way the light from inside shines out across the green. Feel the chill of the wind slip past you, rustling your hair and raising goosebumps on your bare legs. Sip dry Cava and contemplate how many more of these things you can feasibly imagine attending in your career. There’s a single text from Nora on your phone, asking how the presentation went. You tuck it into your purse, leaving the message unanswered.

By the time you hear the door hinges creak, the glass is near empty. You spy a shadowy form snaking its way down the path, headed in your direction.

“Mr Keynote Speaker,” you hum. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Funny,” Joel mutters dryly, knees cracking as he falls onto the bench beside you. A heavy sigh slips from between his lips, fingers lacing together in his lap as he gazes across the breezeway. You down the last of your drink and place it on the concrete by your feet. “Needed some god damn peace and quiet. All that chit chat drives me insane.”

You murmur in agreement and stare at the side of his face – the neatened beard, the thick frame of his glasses. Purposeful or not, the side of his body is pressed against yours. Thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder – he’s sat directly in the centre of the bench. Heat radiates off his body and it’s almost too warm, and yet you find yourself relaxing against him.

“First time at one of these?” Joel asks gruffly. He’s still not looking at you, his eyes trained on a pigeon pecking at a discarded foil wrapper on the grass.

“Is it that obvious?” you grimace.

“Only because I’ve been to twenty of the damn things,” he says. “Y’learn how to smell the nervous energy comin’ off the first timers.”

“Twenty?” you mutter. Feel your stomach curl and twist at the idea of doing this day nineteen more times.

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Went to a lot during my second degree. Had to get good at talkin’, fast.”

“Ahh,” you say. “So, you weren’t always such a sweet talker then?”

He lets out a low chuckle, as if amused by the thought. “Sweet talker, huh? That what I am?”

You shrug, suddenly emboldened by him following you outside, by how close he is, by how open he seems.

“I suppose,” you say slowly.

“And what gave you that idea?”

“You here alone?” you offer a poor imitation of him, voice low and breathy with your awful take on a Southern twang. “Meet me in the bathroom.” You wink, quietly delighted by the way his lips have tightened into a flat line.

“Funny,” he says again, entirely unamused now.

Something warm shifts in your lower stomach. Something wet—a vivid memory of him on the ground behind you in the bathroom of a bar, of hands spreading you open, of his tongue pressing inside you, of The Eagles playing faintly in the background.

“You do that kind of thing often?” you ask.  

“Do what?”

“Approach young women at bars,” you wiggle your eyebrows, smirking. “Rob them of their virtue in the bathroom and then hope you never see them again.”

“You? Virtuous?” Joel rolls his eyes. You can see the corner of his lip curling upward. “Must be gettin’ yourself confused with somebody else.”  

“Maybe,” you smile.

“Sometimes,” he casts you a look, after a moment. “Not… often. And not young.”

“Younger,” you counter quickly.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” he trails off and shakes his head. “It’s not a thing I do, alright?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t date then?”

He tilts his head at you curiously, eyes planted firmly on your face now. “Not for a long time.”

“Why not?”

“Been busy,” he grunts, clearly growing impatient by the line of questioning.  “Spent a lot of time studying. Working.”

“Where did you study?” you press.

“This twenty fuckin’ questions?” he snaps, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Came out here for—”

“You came out here,” you interrupt. “Because I came out here.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t try to deny it.

“Night classes at Texas A&M for my undergrad,” he grits out. You smile sickly sweet, pleased. “Did my postgrads part time at UT Austin,” Joel says.

Your eyebrows kick up again, the teasing pretence all but forgotten. “Sounds… unconventional?” you offer softly.

“That’s one word for it,” he agrees vaguely. “Spent the better half of a decade at school just to end up teaching at one. Ain’t that somethin’.”

“And before that?” you press.  

“Before that,” he continues with a wry grin, one full of distaste and frustration and resentment. “Was a contractor for a long time. Houses, buildings.” He rests a hand against his shoulder, fingers pressing against the muscle there, as if working out a decade old knot.

And for a moment you can see it. Can almost taste it. Collared shirts and glasses replaced with hard hats and hammers and dirt in the lines of his palms. Joel carrying a plank of wood on his shoulder, wearing a toolbelt. Joel on his knees, sweat shining on his forehead while he wields an electric drill.

Your dress feels too tight suddenly. Too warm.

“A contractor,” you say distractedly, and hope he doesn’t notice how your thighs press together.

“Mhm,” Joel nods. “With my brother.”

“You have a brother?”

He ignores that. “Where did you study?”

“San Diego State,” you flash him a grin. “Go Aztecs.”

“Good school,” he hums. “You’re a long way from California.”

Only a little further than Texas, you think.

“You did good up there,” Joel adds.  

Your smile dips and wanes into a scowl, uninterested in the change of subject.

“What?”

“It was…” you shake your head slowly, face warming as you glance down to your lap.

“What?”

“It just wasn’t what I expected.” You pick at a loose thread on the hem of your dress. “That’s all.”

“And what did you expect?”

“To be listened to,” you grunt. “Not gawked at by some ancient jerkoffs that were only there to stare at my ass when I turned to change a slide.”

Joel nods, quiet.

“I wanted it to matter,” you mutter. “Wanted to… fuck, I wanted to impress them.”

“I was impressed.”

“Oh yeah?” you snort, finally looking up. “You hightailed it out of there pretty quickly.”

Joel shakes his head and stares back at you, gaze heavy. His hands tighten into fists against his thighs, knuckles lightening to white as he squeezes. You shuffle on the seat—ignore the flare of heat that erupts where your shoulder nudges firmer against his. 

“I guess you could say,” he speaks slowly. “I’m tryin’ to keep my distance.”

You arch an eyebrow and attempt to swallow the laugh bubbling up your throat.

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” you smirk.

Joel laughs and your smile falters, mouth going slack at the sound. How rare it is, and how much rarer to have it all to yourself like this. For all of his sharp angles, his sweet talking, his harsh words, and harsher touch—that laugh is the cruellest part.  

He jostles his shoulder against yours a little. An acknowledgement; perhaps a glimpse inside. Something that says, I know, I see it, I feel it, I can’t stop either.

“You make it hard,” he says then, and his voice is soft—almost a whisper.

“How’s that?” You match his tone, as if you’re two little kids who’ve snuck outside to share secrets where no one else can hear them.

“You bein’ here,” he murmurs, eyes searching. “Startin’ to feel like you’re everywhere I turn.”

A breeze swims past and you shiver, locks of hair floating in a mess around your face until you pat them down. Joel moves almost imperceptibly, curling his side tighter against yours to shield you from the onslaught.

“I know the feeling,” you admit.

The muscle in his jaw ticks and he clears his throat, looking out across the green again. For a moment the pair of you sit in silence. Not as professor and student, but simply a man and a woman on a bench. Breathing the same air, soaking in a shared silence that only the two of you could understand. And there are so many more questions you want to ask him, so much more you feel compelled to know, but instead you settle for this—sitting on a bench together, shoulders and thighs and chests pressed side to side, two frames moulded around the welcoming shape of one another. For now.

“It gets easier,” Joel says then, jaw tense as he spares a glance back in your direction. “This stuff, these people, all the talkin’.”

You acknowledge him with a small smile, just the slightest twitch of your lip. Don’t bother saying, maybe for you. Maybe for a man.

“You know,” you suck in a breath and give him a lazy smile instead. “I think this might be the longest conversation we’ve had without ripping each other’s clothes off.”

“Mm.” He leans his head back to rest on the wall, eyes focusing up towards the sky.

“I like it,” you say quietly. Hear how vulnerability chimes in your voice – a wobble that begs to be ignored and understood all at once. “It’s nice… talking like this.”

Joel’s head tilts towards you, dark eyes locked on yours. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see that wariness in his eyes. The same wariness that poured out in flecks of brown and amber and gold in the light of your bedroom a week ago, when he told you he was fifty. A hesitant curiosity, an incessant suspicion, a bark of disbelief. You feel the desire to pluck the feeling out of him and swallow it whole. To lock it safely inside yourself and make it so he never has to feel it again.

So you lean in a press your lips against his. Painfully soft, just a whisper of two mouths slotting together. Chapped and dry from the wind, he tastes like bitter sparkling wine. You sigh into him, uncaring. Hook your ankle around his, place your hand on his thigh, and sink closer, deeper.

He pulls back an inch, mouth still hovering over yours, the tip of his nose pressed into your cheek.

“Shouldn’t do this here,” he warns quietly, eyes still closed. His breath is hot against your face, and you inhale the taste of mint and Cava and Joel.

“I know.” You grip the lapel of his blazer and kiss him again. Firmer this time, grazing your tongue along the seam of his lips until he welcomes you inside to taste behind his teeth. The frame of his glasses presses into your nose, your cheeks, and you smile into his mouth. Rough palms and lazy fingertips graze the skin of your bicep, your neck, until they find a home at the nape of your neck. His thumb presses against the hinge of your jaw, hot wet tongue working your mouth open until you’re whining, teeth nipping at his bottom lip and fingernails digging into the meat of his thigh.

Only when you move to press a hand beneath the collar of his shirt does Joel pull back again, this time to stand and take a step away from the bench. A tinge of scarlet creeps its way from the hollow of his throat to the apple of his cheeks. He clears his throat and glances over his shoulder, towards the door. When he looks back, there’s something new there. Some dangerous that flashes in his eyes and lingers when his gaze dances down the curve of your body against the seat.

“Where are you staying?” you ask, breathless.

For a minute he doesn’t answer. Simply stares, contemplating, broad chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The lenses of his glasses are fogged, and you watch them slowly clear.  

Then— “The Pendry.”

Joel reaches into his pocket and retrieves something small and laminated. You take it from his outstretched palm carefully. “Fifth floor.”

You stare at it for a moment. Turn it over in your palm once, twice. Read the room number printed on the key card before tucking it safely into your purse. When you look up again, Joel is already walking back inside.

It’s nearing midnight by the time you arrive at the Pendry – a high rise in Manhattan West, the kind with a fancy lobby and a doorman in a neat black suit. The polar opposite of the hotel where your suitcase lies unopened across the city. You feel out of place in an instant, but you’re still in your dress, and the staff don’t bat an eye at your presence. The key card he gave you is hot where your fingers curl around it, plastic damp and foggy with the sweat from your palms. By the time you reach his door you have to wipe it on your dress before the sensor will recognise it.

A hollow beep echoes through the hall, and his door presses open with a soft hiss.

The room is enveloped in darkness. Moonlight shines in through a slim gap in the curtains, highlighting vague edges of the space. A desk against the wall, a large bed on the left of the room. For a moment you consider that he isn’t here—that he got caught up at the conference, sweet talking into the midnight hour with other professors and alums. You can hear sounds from the street, music and car horns blaring, even from the fifth floor. But nothing else. No Joel.

Tentatively, you take a step inside the room. And then another. Kick your heels off and feel rough carpet hairs sift between your toes. Holding your hands out into the darkness, fingertips ghosting the wall for support, you venture further into the room, only pausing when your shin thumps against the corner of something sharp and sturdy.

You spit a surprised curse and stumble into the wall, hands falling to grip your leg where it throbs and smarts.

“Jesus fuck,” you hiss, smoothing your fingers against the already forming lump.

A lamp flicks on, and the room lurches into view, tinged in a soft yellow light. You jump, eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. Bed sheets rumple and shift, and Joel is frowning at you from his place amongst the pillows, a hand raising to drowsily scratch his chin.  

“The hell are you doin’?” he rasps.

Heat flares in your face as you straighten up, mirroring his frown. He moves slow, a sluggish stretch out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and he looks almost concerned. It gives you pause for a moment, eyes unsure of where to settle, as you note just how much of his body you’ve never seen before. The soft muscles in his legs, the dark hair over tan skin. You can see the slight round of his stomach through the thin fabric of the shirt.

“Were you asleep?” you accuse.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” Joel mutters, and the sound is a fractured medley of words and yawns. You feel a dull pang of disappointment in your chest as you watch him rub sleep from the corner of his left eye.

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t?”

He doesn’t respond.

“You gave me a key.”   

“I know,” he sighs.

“Of course I was going to come.”

He nods. Yawns again, hand snaking upward to cover his open mouth.

You turn your back on him slowly. Take a glass from the little kitchenette and let the faucet run a cool burst of water into it. Little specks of water splash up, dotting against your hand. Your feet ache from wearing those damn heels all day, but you wilfully ignore the pain, gulping down half the glass while staring at your reflection in the splashback. Blue dress, hair tucked behind your ears, charcoal smudged around the curve of your eyes.

Joel’s fingers wind around yours, peeling the glass from your clutch so he can steal the final few sips. He discards it on the counter and leans against it. You try to make out his expression in the shadowy light, wiping your water-dotted arm against your side.

“S’a good dress.” He looks more alert suddenly, eyes sharp and focused, wide shoulders squared.

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“Didn’t say anything about it earlier.”

“Was tryin’ not to think about it,” he says plainly. “And how badly I wanted to take it off.”

Your hand stills. That misplaced disappointment slips out of the room, an unwelcome third party, and you grin at him. A sleazy, sleepy smile, and walk backwards in the direction of the bed without taking your eyes off of him.

“So take it off,” you challenge.

Your heartbeat is a steady thrum against your breastbone as he crosses the room. Badoom, badoom, no less than three strides and he’s there, gripping your waist to turn you so his chest is against your back.

Your zip is a low whir in the air, spinning downward slowly, slowly, from the nape of your neck to the sloping base of your spine. Deft hands trace skin, grazing every mark, every freckle as they are revealed to him, until the material of your dress is a gaping smile across your back. You shiver as the air rushes to meet your bare flesh, and then careful—cautious—you feel a pair of lips press against the top of your spine, soft pink against steely vertebrae. You say his name, low and surprised, and he doesn’t say anything. Those hands push the dress down your arms, and you watch it tremble and fall, a mess of blue at your feet.

You can hear his breathing; the way it stutters and jumps as he traces the clasp of your bra, the arch of your spine beneath it.

“Take it off,” you say again, and feel a sharp scratch of desperation that perhaps this time he won’t deny you this. This something that you’ve not experienced even once, and yet you find yourself missing.

The idea of his skin against yours is something prophetic, something inevitable, something divine—something determined far before the two of you met in that bar. It’s out of your control or his, irrevocable—a beast bred from desire that claws and snaps at the bars of its cage, calling you kicking and screaming into each other’s arms.

His fingers pluck at the clasp, and you smile. Sigh in relief as your bra hits the floor and the weight of your breasts are borne to the increasingly warm air. Joel is still behind you, still not seeing you. But broad palms splay across your back, massaging and flexing into your skin as they roam your sides, your stomach, up your front to cup your breasts. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as he squeezes softly, palms warm and solid against the stiff peaks of your nipples.

“Fuck.” Joel’s nose buries itself in your hair, his forehead against the back of your head. Your legs shake, and you lean back into his chest, your body a soft and tremulous thing that would surely float away if he weren’t here to hold you up.  

His hands are on your breasts, sweet and tender and finally, and you wonder how long this wanting will feel like burning. Like nicks of flame that gloss over you and spit embers at anyone who dares to get too close—at him, sparking and sputtering as they collide in a spitfire symphony. This man who lives set ablaze in his own right. This man who welcomes your flame every time—swallows it whole, and lays kisses against the back of your neck with lips still warm.

Calloused fingers roll and circle your nipples, playing gently, listening for every gasp, every sigh, before diligently repeating whatever it was that called the sound forward. Your underwear is all but ruined, already damp and clinging to the slick skin between your thighs. And you can feel him against your lower back, albeit unmoving—not grinding against you, not pushing you down onto the bed, but waiting – for what, you can’t be sure.

You turn around faster than he can stop you. Hook fingers into the band of your panties and drag them down in a swift movement before straightening, holding his gaze all the while. And Joel—

He looks in pain. Dark eyes lock onto on your face and don’t stray. Don’t dip downward, don’t glance around the room. His hands hang by his sides, palms facing upward in a dejected fashion, jaw slack as he just—waits.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you whisper.

“You don’t….” he shakes his head. “If I look, I won’t be able to forget. And I—I can’t—”

There’s a flash of that memory again. Sweating in the dark bathroom of a bar in Portland. Joel wiping stained lipstick from your chin. The words I’m gonna remember this dripping from his swollen lips.

You take a step forward. Feel your nipples graze the soft material of his shirt. “And what if I don’t want you to forget?”

He says your name quietly, shoulders tense. But when you grip the hem of his shirt, he doesn’t stop you. Rather, he lifts his arms and lets you drag the fabric over his head. You marvel at the bare skin, eyes dancing across jutting collarbones and the soft swell of his stomach. Watch the way his chest rises and falls as stilted breaths flurry inside him before spilling into the air between you. Admire the trail of dark hair that rests between his bellybutton and the soft band of his underwear. His eyes don’t leave your face as you push the boxers down his legs.

“So handsome,” you say and Joel exhales, hands hovering a hairsbreadth from your waist. The weight of the moment hangs heavy between you. This moment of more. To be with him like this feels like more. To be naked feels like more.

You grip his hand and raise it to your breast again. Squeeze your fingers over his. His thumb flicks across your nipple and you gasp. His eyes darken, nostrils flaring as he fights to restrain himself.  

“Joel,” you whisper. “Look at me.”

Finally, he does. Those brown eyes flickering downward to rake in the sight of your body.

He’s on you in a second, mouth slanting desperately against yours while his hands drift aimlessly across skin, untethered in their access. Fingers pinching and grabbing and squeezing, teeth searing at your lips, and you gasp as his cock presses against your stomach. The long, thick weight of him, drooling and needy. Your fingers slip around him, rub softly over the underside of his head, the vein on the underside of him. Joel grips your wrist and pushes you backward a step, his lips leaving yours with a wet smack.

“Sit on the bed,” he orders firmly.

You wander backward, stumbling onto the edge of the bed when your calves collide with the heavy wooden base. He watches you, hand drifting to wrap around the base of his cock. He strokes himself gently, black eyes tracing vigilantly over every inch of your body. And you expect him to push you down, to crawl on top of you. Instead, you watch with bated breath as Joel drops to his knees in front of you. His knees crack as they bend but he ignores it, nudging your thighs apart so his broad frame can fit between them. Hooded eyes gaze between your thighs, roaming across all of the bare skin on show. Slowly, he lifts a hand and rests it gently on your mound. Calloused fingers stroke over the dark hair there, stroking through the short curls. You sigh and cant your hips up, but Joel only grunts, his free hand squeezing your thigh to hold you against the mattress.

Before you can process it, he’s leaning forward, nose nestling in your hair as his warm tongue parts your folds. You groan in unison, your fingers carding through his curls to hold him against you. He murmurs something that you don’t quite catch over the roaring in your ears, but you don’t care. Too caught up in a smooth slide of his mouth slotting against you. The flat of his tongue glides up and down your sex, smearing a mess of slick and saliva in his wake. You gasp as it flicks sharply across your clit, your jaw tensing at the harsh sensation. Joel notices—pulls back.

“Tell me,” he urges.    

“Slower,” you say quickly, voice feeble and desperate.

“Slower,” Joel repeats with a nod, and he massages your thighs as he licks into you, fingernails scraping your skin as his grip tightens and loosens and tightens and loosens. He traces slow circles around your clit with the flat of his tongue that have you gasping and bucking against his face. And when his tongue presses inside of you, you moan, fingers twisting in his hair and tugging.

“Fuck,” he growls into you, and he likes that. You do it again and his eyes flick open, pupils blown, gaze darting wildly across your stomach, your arms, your breasts, your face – watching, admiring, taking in every detail of the offering that you’ve laid so generously at his altar. The tip of a finger curls inside you and he grins when your thighs tense around him. He rears his head back to watch how you welcome him inside, eyes locked on the way your weeping cunt clenches and drips around one of his fingers, and then another.

“Yeah,” you sigh, nose scrunching at the slight stretch. “Yeah, like that, fuck.” 

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Christ.” And then the cut of his wet red mouth is back on you, lips parting to suck against your clit until you’re crying out, voice a hoarse shout as you speed rapidly towards your end.

“Shit, Joel,” you gasp. One of your legs kicks out straight and his hand drops from your thigh, one set of fingers working you open while the other comes up to part your lips, giving himself more access. As he lathes wet kisses against you, the coarse hairs of his beard scraping your inner thighs, you can feel it. That liquid heat that coils and stirs in the base of your stomach.

“Joel, I—ohh—I think I’m gonna come,” you whimper, hand shooting out to grip his shoulder. Your nails dig into the tense muscle there, using the leverage to rut your hips against his face.

He groans into your sex, fingers moving faster, unforgiving against that spongy spot deep inside that sets you alight. His teeth graze against your clit, the lightest brush, and your stomach is tensing, every muscle in your body locking up.

“Give it t’me,” he says gruffly. “That’s it, come on, baby.”

A choked gasp falls from your lips and then you’re coming, twitching against his face, pussy bearing down on thick fingers that stoke you through the high. Your hand leaves his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding his face against where you’re aching for him still. Joel moans, a low sound from deep in his chest, dragging his fingers away so he can drink down every heady drop of your orgasm.

Baby.

The word rings in your head, bouncing inside your skull, a fierce ricochet. Baby.

Trembling fingers feather across the cowlick at the crown of his head, twisting and petting soft wayward curls as his mouth pulls back, a wet drag across the skin of your hip. You catch a glimpse of his cock, heavy and throbbing between his thighs.

Joel’s teeth nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh, a sharp pinch that makes you flinch. Tired muscles tensing, face twisting up as he sucks and licks, hot tongue soothing over the stinging red mark. He breathes your name, mouthing the sound into your flesh once, twice.

“I’ve been tryna remember this,” he murmurs. “Only ever had it for a second.”

You whimper as he licks into you again, slowly. And you’re so sensitive, and maybe—maybe—it’s too much, too soon, but he doesn’t care. He grips your calf and tucks it over his shoulder. Holds it there in a vice grip.

“Wasn’t enough,” he says. Dark eyes look up and you’re rapt in them—bound and boneless simply from having those eyes on you you you nothing but you all he sees is you and he loves it, you can tell. Thrives on the way you melt beneath his rough fingertips, the wet drag of his tongue. “Remember that first day in my office?

Remember, remember, remember, how could you forget? I’m gonna remember this this this.

“Yes.” Your leg trembles against the side of face, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching your skin. The tip of his tongue lathes slow circles around your clit. A cruel, leisurely slip of flesh on flesh that has you gasping and twitching beneath his hands.

“I wanted this that day,” Joel rasps. “Needed it. But you were gone so soon, ‘n’ I couldn’t help myself.”

“What—oh fuck—” He flicks his tongue faster, hot swipes from side to side that have your thigh clamping down against the muscles in his neck. Your mind is a blur, eyebrows furrowed as you try to make sense of his words.

“Fucked my fist the second you left,” he growls. “My fingers in my mouth, the taste of you—Christ, couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Joel,” you gasp, impatient. “I—get up here. Please, just—”

Strong hands push you up, push you back, further onto the bed until your head hits the pillows. His hair is a wild fray around his head, knotted and mussed from your fingers raking through it.

“I don’t have anything,” he says.

“I don’t care,” you say.

His knees press onto the mattress on either side of you and his eyes glance down your chest before he grips your waist and he’s turning you. Your stomach meets the sheets and you move to arch your back, to tilt your hips up towards him, but a firm hand rests on the small of your back, and keeps you down.

“Like this,” you hear him say. “Trust me.”

His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel him there, knuckles brushing the flesh of your ass, spreading you apart so his cock can press inside. The pillow swallows your wet gasp, and your eyes pinch shut against the stretch as he sinks deeper and deeper. Every delicious inch splits you open wider, further, carving out that space that’s just for him, and it’s more. Your vision blurs and you clutch at the sheets, fingers tangling in linen as Joel’s breathy groans fill the air.

“God,” he grunts. “Always so fuckin’—tight.”

You cry out as he begins to move, pressing you further into the mattress. The stretch of him is so broad—so deep—it has hot tears pricking in your eyes. Your legs are straight, almost clamped together, leaving the smallest gap for him to break through. His chest melts against your back, sweet sweat sliding from skin to skin. And his stomach is soft against the base of your spine, but his teeth are sharp where they nip and smart against the skin of your shoulder, your neck. He sets a pace that has you biting down into the pillow to muffle your groans. It’s almost overbearing how good it feels, how he surrounds you. Flat against the mattress, there’s nowhere to hide from the pleasure, no way to twist or curl your body away from how good it feels. A choked moan is muffled by the pillow.

And then his fingers are in your hair, dragging your head up.

“What are you fuckin’ doin’?” he grunts. You gasp, eyebrows furrowed and mouth ajar as you take take take. He pulls your hair harder when you don’t respond, presses his chin against your shoulder, lips curling against the skin of your neck as he speaks. “Don’t do that, not here. No more hidin’, I wanna fuckin’ hear it.”

He grips your hips and drags you upward so you’re on your knees, bracing against your forearms, and then his hand snakes around the front of your body, fingers dragging between your thighs as he begins moving again.

“Oh fuck,” your eyes widen in surprise, jaw hanging slack as he rolls his finger in expert circles over your clit. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Fuck,” you repeat, mewling every time one of his thrusts sends your face forward into the pillows. “Yes, oh god.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust of his hips. “That’s it, lemme hear it.”

“Joel,” you cry out, voice cracked and broken. “So good.”

“I know, baby,” he grunts. “I know.”

“You’re so—deep,” you gasp.

“I know,” he soothes.

“I missed this,” you babble, mouth moving faster than your mind. “Missed you.”

“Christ,” he spits, pulling you up until you’re leaning against his chest. His fingers are a blur against your clit, cock a fast wet shift in and out in and out.

You tilt your head back against his shoulder, mouth hanging open as you press your ass back into him.

“Missed me?” Joel says, and his cheek is warm against yours. Wet. Your face is wet. “Gonna show me how much?”

“Yes,” you moan. His free hand grips your breast, squeezing and pinching.

“Need to get my fuckin’ mouth on you,” he growls.

“No,” you beg. “Joel, don’t—fuuuck, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Wanted to,” his hips stutter against you, losing momentum for a second. “Jesus, wanted to take my fuckin’ time.” You snake a hand behind his head to grip his hair again, to press his face into your neck. His mouth latches onto your skin, spit mixing with sweat where his teeth and tongue trace your roaring pulse. Your thighs are trembling, knees weak and wobbling against the mattress as he pistons into you, unrelenting, unforgiving.

“I’m—” your eyes start to roll back. You can feel your back arch and twist against him, toes curling into the sheets. “Oh my God.”

He says your name in a panicked hiss and pulls out.

You gasp at the loss, eyes flying open in alarm. He moves your body, not wasting a second as he lowers you down onto your back presses inside again, hands gripping the underside of your knees, holding them against your chest. Practically bent in half, you tremble in his grasp, eyes blurred and wet as you sob his name.

“Lemme have it,” he goads you, voice a dull vibration against your chest. “Bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, yeah, just like that.”

And it feels like something splinters within you as heat floods your senses, vision whiting out until all you can see is the soft edges of his curls against your chest, the wet smear of his tongue over your nipple. All you can hear is the words he speaks against your skin.

I’m close, he warns, and you say yes, say please, say I want it, because you do.

“Where?” You call the shots.

And you say, Inside, say, I want it, because you do.

Because you want everything. Everything he has and whatever dark matter is left after that. And everything is a naked thought, a stark realisation, a frighteningly bare streak of madness that zips down your spine and melts in your belly, and you can feel yourself tightening around him with the enormity of it. Can feel your body squeezing and sucking and holding it holding it holding it and with black eyes, spheres of a night sky’s pitch, he stares at you. Unruly eyebrows pinched tight. Mouth slick and swollen and snarling, white teeth grit like prison bars, keeping everything contained inside himself, just out of your reach.  

“Fuck,” Joel spits, pleading, desperate. “Don’t—”

But his hips are bruising against yours and you relish in the ache. The jut of bone amidst the softness of his skin, a reminder of the coldness in him, the determination, the impatience. And you know that you can only have so much softness until there is stone. But you cannot understand don’t, you never have with him, so you grind upward. Meet him thrust for thrust, and shiver in delight as a tortured expression passes over his face. And when you come again he curses, broad palms bearing down on you, holding your frame into the mattress as he pushes you through it, prolonging that naked thought, that fearsome idea. You only hope that he cannot see how your own everything spills. How it cools and congeals around him with its palms spread open, longing to receive as much in return.

Joel comes with a shout, hips dragging backwards so his spend can spill across your stomach and the puffy lips of your sex. He grips his cock, milking himself for all he’s worth until wet ropes of his come are smeared across your thighs too. You gasp and writhe against the bed, trying in vain to keep your heavy eyelids open, not wanting to miss a second. The shine of your slick on his thighs and lower stomach is clear in the dim lighting, and you smile at the sight of it – your claim on him. Chest heaving, he follows your gaze, fingers swiping across his skin before sinking into his mouth. He groans around his fingers and you stomach lurches as he lowers his chest to the bed, mouth drifting between your splayed thighs.

You cup his jaw and hold him still.  

“I can’t,” you murmur, and your voice is cracked and broken. “S’too much.”

And he agrees, tracing the marks on the inside of your thighs with his mouth until your eyes drift closed.

Time passes slowly after that. You don’t open your eyes for a while. Too fucked out, too tired, too tender.

There’s a warm glide of something soft and wet over your stomach, your thighs, between your legs—Joel cleaning up his mess. You almost wish he wouldn’t.

“Sorry,” you mumble a few minutes later. “I’ll go in a second.” But your eyes are closed, and the sheets smell like him.

You feel the mattress dip beside you. Hear a soft click as he turns off the lamp, and darkness swells around you once more.

“S’okay,” he says, and his voice is so close, as if he were whispering against the shell of your ear, breathing the words into you. “Don’t have to go.”

And it makes sense not to go. To stay, to stay, to stay. To sink deeper into the hotel mattress, and let the sounds of his heavy exhales lull you further to sleep. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t come any closer. But you can smell him. Can feel his warmth, a radiating sun that shines across the side of your body closest, and you sink deeper still.

You think of the katabasis - the hero’s journey spiralling down into the underworld. Of Orpheus seeking the safe return of Eurydice, his love lost too soon. Of Odysseus, guided by Circe to discover Teiresias on his quest for homecoming. Of Aeneid, venturing downward to meet his father and hear his true destiny. This descent into the afterlife, into the realm of the dead, wherein upon return our hero is irrevocably changed. But to stay, to stay, to stay. So warm it is here, you think, so lovely and warm to descend wholly into this wanting, this burning, this everything.   

“Is this a good idea?” you murmur, voice a drowsy call into the darkness. “For me to stay?”

Joel doesn’t respond.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @bbyanarchist @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @@lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5 @psychedelic-ink @what-is-your-wish @sugadolly @elissaaa @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul

thank you for reading! x

[butchreg]

cg ! sevika taking care of a deer / fawn regressor !!

requested by @mrs-chonk ! request was for an unspecified arcane character so i decided on sevika. also it just said regressed character without specification so i did reader ૮ ྀིྀིྀི₍ -\./-₎ ྀིა. writing has been difficult in the past few days my brain is just Not having it but my goal was to push through the block and write one thing tonight. if you're seeing this goal accomplished tehe O-:3 arcane masterlist here , upcoming list here

you who freezes in place like a deer in headlights when sevika catches you doing something naughty. sevika who chuckles at this but won't let you completely off the hook , taking your chin in her hand so you can't avoid her gaze. "c'mon kid , what've we talked about ? no more treats until after dinner or you'll spoil your appetite." you'll "eep" shyly , and she'll let you go with a chuckle , ruffling your hair.

you're a silly little fawn , always trying to nibble at the grass when sevika takes you out to play. if it's good enough for other deer surely it's good enough for you ! sevika who stops you with a warning "ah ah ah ," offering you a crunchy baby carrot as a substitute.

you stim by stomping your hooves and head butting things with your "antlers". sevika finds this quite amusing as well as adorable , playfully daring you to head butt her and then playfully headlocking you and scruffing your head affectionately.

she buys you big stompy boots to 1. match hers and 2. because they're noisy and make better hoof - like sounds than your regular sneakers. you bleat happily , clopping around noisily.

you like to scrunch up your nose a lot , a little thing that makes you feel more deer like. sevika who notices this and can't help but smile , cooing softly at you. "got a little fawn today , huh?" you may "deer in headlights" at this too , thinking your mama hadn't noticed. you act shy but are secretly quite pleased that she knows you well enough to recognize your tells.

she'll feed you a few berries from her palm , scrunching her face up when you lick her palm clean , sure to get every last morsel. if you're still hungry you'll head butt her for more. she'll laugh at this. "greedy little thing," she'll joke but she makes sure you're never hungry.

sevika who has jinx make you an antler headband. you're so excited by it and never want to take it off ! you fuss when she makes you take it off for baths or to sleep , head butting and bleating like crazy. "c'mon now , fawnie. i just don't want your antlers getting hurt , is that something you want? you want your antlers gettin' broken?" you bleat unhappily but in the end you realize she's right... you're still NOT happy about it though >:((.

you can be pretty shy , hiding your face often and struggling to meet sevika's eyes. you are startled by loud and sudden noises , often skittering away when scared. sevika will often coax you out of hiding with a treat , some berries or a handful of granola.

you're a curious little deer often watching others with big wide eyes. you'll often try to mirror people you find interesting , especially your mama ! this always makes sevika laugh , and your cuteness earns you plenty of head pats. she'll tell you how smart you are , petting you between the antlers.

sevika's not a big fan of health food herself but you love your fruits and veggies ! she's always praising you for doing such a good job eating well. "you eat better than me kid !" she'll say , impressed. "mama's gotta eat more veggies," she'll confide in you , taking a big bite of a carrot. she makes a face as she chews which makes you giggle. you're pleased that you can help your mama with eating better just like she helps you with everything else.

"nummy !" you'll say every time she offers to make you a salad or cook you some veggies. she learns all kind of recipes to make them even more delicious. she's a good cook but stubborn when it comes to eating these healthier items. "don't see what the fuss is about," she'll shrug, taking a few bites but much preferring heartier meals. "nummy !!" you'll insist , sticking your tongue out at her.

[endless-ineffabilities]

le marquis et le moineau

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

themes: angst, twisted business associates(?) to lovers, dubious morals, the Marquis has his eyes set on you and only you (but you don't know that ofc)

a/n: this bloody Frenchman has been plaguing my thoughts (thanks to a very sinister portrayal by one Bill Skarsgård). Mind you, I still haven't even seen the film John Wick 4, but I'm a fan of the series, and the morsels I've seen of the Marquis have been more than enough to give rise to a new lil fixation.

word count: 932 ▪︎ more of moineau ▪︎ other works

It started as a little game.

Just some passing fancy between yourself and the Marquis.

Or at least, that was what it was supposed to remain. Only that. A game.

But you should have known better. You should have known that any game played with Marquis Vincent de Gramont may eventually turn deadly.

Your high-risk job at the Continental usually also reaped the highest of rewards.

Tip off the right person and receive a gold coin. Deliver a message, without any bumps or bruises to all parties involved, and your reputation would be given a much-needed boost or two.

This business was danger wrapped in deceit wrapped in glamour. And you knew how to deal the right cards.

Although it seems, things are not as easy when it comes to the Marquis.

Vincent was every bit a menace as his reputation decreed. The Marquis tasked with restoring the authority of the High Table, he was nothing short of cunning and ambitious, prepared to take down any and all those who posed a threat to his objectives.

Dangerous. Deceptive. Glamourous as well, mind you. He was perfectly suited to this world.

He was also brazen, pretentious, snobbish.

And beautiful.

He knew just how to tug at your strings and make you bend. Or at least, he always tried to.

Like he was doing then, in one of the bigger rooms in his palacial estate, wherein only the two of you stood with only a few feet in between.

"What did we agree upon, mon moineau?" His silky accented voice implored.

My sparrow, he called you. The reason for which remained undisclosed to you, not for a lack of trying to wrench it out of him.

Why couldn't he call you something sweeter? Of the more classic French romantic sobriquets?

Chérie, perhaps. Mon amour. Mon coeur.

But no. You were stuck with measly ol' "my sparrow".

Of course, not that it mattered. Perhaps the Marquis reserved his sweeter words for those he actually cared for. At the very least, well-regarded enough to be associated with. Those impossibly beautiful and refined members of European aristocracy that he was so often rumoured to be wining and dining.

Unlike you. Renegade, foul-mouthed vagabond.

You stared up at his pacing figure. "I am fully aware of what we agreed upon, Vincent. What I have done does not breach that. I am perfectly capable - "

His head snapped to you menacingly. "You could have been killed, moineau."

You shrugged. "Consequences. I did not enter this damned line of work without considering the risks. As it goes, getting killed would not exactly be an uncommon occurence."

"Don't jest." He shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose, in obvious annoyance.

You took a step forward, trying to find his gaze. "And if I were to... pass... so what? Everything would simply go on. The truth is that I'm already a ghost. Doing what I do in our world makes me some kind of spectre. I am already not there."

You knew this. You repeated this to yourself when you woke, and before you went to sleep. It was the only truth you could hold on to.

Until him. Until some buried, twisted part of you began hoping that he would care.

But hope is a dangerous thing.

You continued, as he kept looking away. "You would go on. Perhaps even find a new sparrow to play with."

You felt it. As your words hung in the air, his entire mood shifted. He straightened, and with both hands burrowed in the pockets of his impeccably tailored trousers, his eyes land on you.

He slowly took a step forward, and then another, until his figure loomed over you.

In all your shared moments, you learned to discern the quick switches in his temper and his expression. But not enough, not completely.

The look he was giving you then was impossible to read.

"You think..." His left hand drifted to the hem of your blazer, toying with it. "... that I..." His index finger then drifted upward over your silk shirt, stopping in between your collarbones. His tongue briefly darted out to wet his lips, catching your eye. "... would simply replace you?"

You finally felt his touch on your face, his fingers delicately caressing your jawline.

He made a fleeting tsk tsk sound with his tongue, as if in disapproval.

"I believe you underestimate just how much you matter to me, mon moineau."

You did your best to remain unfazed. This was the game, wasn't it? Whatever you might think it can become, what you hope it can unravel into - set it aside as delusion.

Don't fall.

It's just a game to play.

Don't fall.

You took a deep breath, then smiled sweetly. Mockingly. "What makes you think I would even pay any mind to how much I matter to you? That line of thinking doesn't work for people like us, Marquis."

"People like us," he repeated, amusement furrowing his brow. "Non, mon moineau. There are no other people like us."

He leaned in, eyes not leaving yours, all but eliminating the distance between your faces. You could feel his breath on your skin, could count the faint spotting of freckles around his nose.

You wished to ask him what he wanted, but held back.

No. There was something better to say.

"What are you waiting for?" You managed to voice the words despite your very heart lodged in your throat.

He smiled, proud of his precious sparrow.

"Mon coeur... I've been waiting for you my entire life."

Ahhh! 🖤 Everybody say thank you Bill Skarsgård and the on-set stylist for the visual treat that is the Marquis.

I'm not even sure if this will find the right crowd - seeing as my lovely followers are of the HotD persuasion. But oh well, I had to get it out of my system.

Could be more of this... idk 🤷‍♀️ Rest assured I haven't forgetten about all my series works, even the ones I haven't started but said I would do...

[9w1ft]

i declare

thinking about the tortured poets department the song, and the charlie puth line, and how maybe like, the act of declaring he should be a bigger artist helps place the song into the greater timeline.

because it’s a sort of weird thing to say in 2024 of an artist that’s no longer up and coming.

charlie puth got his start in youtube in the late 2000’s and released his debut single in february 2015. and leading up to that he had several EP’s and promotional singles. it made me curious, at what point might the people en masse start to pay him attention? i checked google trends and as you can see here he gets a huge jump between the 2014 and 2015 data.

(he then gets a further jump toward 2016 when he did a promo single featuring megan trainor, and then doing “see you again” with wiz khalifa. (coincidentally this song becomes one of the guest duets featured in the 1989 tour movie))

and i was looking around at articles from this time period, when i ran into this tasty morsel:

so i clicked on through

take a little ride with me

so to summarize, charlie puth had his breakout star peak over the course of roughly 2014-2016, during which he was up for an award at the 2015 MTV VMAs. he doesn’t win, and in fact, he loses out to taylor herself! later on in the article it talks about him going to an after party and hanging out with taylor selena and others. so it had me thinking, i could almost imagine taylor talking with her friends that year or that night, or even declaring to charlie himself in the wake of his loss and her win, in a giddy manner, at the party they are reported as having talked at, that he deserves more success than he gets. in this way i came to the conclusion that the timeframe of 2015-ish (rather than 2023) really fits the spirit of the lyric “we declared charlie puth should be a bigger artist”

and

yes.

yes fam.

the 2015 vmas was that vma’s.

that vmas.

let me pull quote an excerpt from the billboard article as i included above, just to emphasize:

4:40 PM: Charlie has the good fortune to walk the carpet in the wake of Taylor Swift’s gaggle of supermodel friends, including “Bad Blood” star Karlie Kloss, leading photographers to alternately yell “Charlie! Karlie! Charlie! Karlie!” as if it were a hectic version of Name Game. While on the carpet, Puth chats with multiple news outlets, and later he says of the dealing with the paparazzi, “It’s amazing that we view people in unnatural states and just love it. I don’t really understand it — it just makes me very uncomfortable. But, whatever. I’m so appreciative to be here.”

such a fun convergence of events, don’t ya think?

and just a few extra points i thought i’d add:

first, i don’t know how many of you remember how taylor was behaving that evening, but don’t you think she was giving major golden retriever energy??

both in how she was chasing after karlie that night,

and also… call me crazy but, her hairstyle??

(also she’s in a houndstooth print, har har)

and i can kind of envision this taylor, who brought the whole bad blood music video crew as her entourage, having more than several bars of chocolate at hand for everyone that night, but ending up eating them all herself 😆

and another thing that helps tie the song to this time period (maybe some of you have guessed?) the line “who else decodes you?” is extra apt because… *da da-da daaaaa*

🤗 karlie had just embarked on her coding journey!

on a more solemn note? i don’t think it requires too much of a stretch of the imagination to see “but you awaken with dread” “i chose this cyclone with you” among other lines pointing to the new layer of stress taylor probably was harboring around being with karlie in public. because this is all taking place in the year directly following kissgate 🥺

so there you have it folks! this is why the tortured poets department is a kaylor song to me 😌

[northgazaupdates]

13 June 2024

Journalist Mohamed/Hamoda Shahen documents hundreds of children queuing in line to receive a ration of broth. After a brief period of allowing the entrance of a few aid convoys, the occupation has once again forbidden nearly all food imports into north Gaza, and starvation is spreading rapidly. Instagram user mydxb2024 provides a full English translation below. Please read the translation, as it is very informative.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Mohamed Shahin (@hamoda_shahen)

Hamoda: The days of famine have returned, as you can see…what are these children queueing for? For a meal, or anything that they can eat. Israeli has prohibited all basic essential food items from entering Northern Gaza…meats, fruits, vegetables, etc. for nearly 100 days now. They did on one occasion allow some food to enter for a short period of 10 days, but then completely prohibited anything after that. As we are seeing here, all these children running and racing just to be able to get their daily sustenance… (asking a boy) Why are you here today?

Boy 1: So I can get a cooked meal.

Hamoda: You don't have any no food?

Boy 1: There is nothing at all.

Hamoda: Of any kind?

Boy 1: There is no kind of (food), nothing!

Hamoda: Alright, and what will you do if you don't get anything today?

Boy 1: We have some flour, so we'll just eat plain bread!

Hamoda: How many of you are there at home?

Boy 1: We're more than 20 people!

Hamoda: Alright the sun is very hot. You don't feel hot standing out here?'

Boy 1: By Allah, I'm burning up but what else can we do?

Hamoda: How long have you been out here?

Boy 1: By Allah, I've been here more than 2.5 hours!

Hamoda: Standing in the sun? So you can feed your family?

Boy 1: Yes, so I can feed my family. And many members of my family have been martyred!

Hamoda: May Allah Grant you safety and well being. (Walking toward another boy) And why are you standing in the sun?

Boy 2: So we can eat a morsel of bread!

Hamoda: Alright, and if you end up not getting anything and have to go home (empty-handed), what will you do?

Boy 2: Then (I'll eat) anything! A loaf of bread, even half a loaf!

[julymusings]

Can we also get a desi reader for Tim, Bruce, and aged up damian, please?

Bruce Wayne x South Asian!Reader

ok i did say whatever you ask is yours...but tbh i'm not much of an anyone-other-than-jason-or-dick girlie (i knowww i'm sorry). maybe in the future i'll write for the others but for now here's some bruce content. hope it's okay pleeease don't hate me. also sorry this took literally 50 years i was going thru some stuff💀

batboys x south asian!reader masterlist

I think he’d try really hard to impress you by taking you to those super fancy Michelin star Indian fusion restaurants. They’re good but don’t have quite the same charm as home cooked Indian food, so you bring him back to your place and cook for him.

I’m gonna be real here…all that man really needs is a kiss and one of grandma’s recipes. You feed him a bite straight from the pot and the softness and intimacy of the action alone almost has him in tears, never mind the love and warmth of a home cooked meal

You two come back to your place late one night after an event and you’re craving some comfort food, so you heat up some leftover rice with ghee and jaggery, and he doesn’t seem to have much of a reaction when he tries it, but when you guys have a fight that results in you not seeing each other for a few days, when you finally return to the manor Alfred informs you that was the only thing he ate because it reminds him of you and he missed you😭

I imagine not being very used to how much money he has, so some of the wealthy stuff he does is kinda weird to you. Seriously, this man has been a billionaire his entire life, so you can’t tell me that at least a morsel of Brucie Wayne’s financial out-of-touchness isn’t a tiny bit real

You tell him that in your culture, it’s common to gift gold at really special milestones/occasions. But he gets carried away.

He buys you a bunch of gold jewelry, like for every occasion and it’s like…real, solid, 22k gold. You try to tell him that it’s too much and you don’t need anymore and please stop buying it but he’s just like “why🤨🤨? That gold necklace was only a thousand dollars that’s so cheap” and you make him stand in the corner

I think he’d feel so weird about not wearing shoes at your place but you make him get used to it🤷‍♀️

He’s a genius fr so he picks up your language very easily

You love the super extra Uber-dramatic soap operas and it’s a guilty pleasure of yours to watch them before bed. I can just imagine the two of you huddled together in bed watching them on your laptop. He makes sure all the TVs in the house have all the channels you like. Eventually he can’t sleep without watching them either😭

I think he’d love certain perfume scents that are from South Asia, and he’d buy you fancy those perfume oils

I’m sorry but…I can NOT see this man wearing a kurta. Like I just don’t think he’d do it.

Lighting incense in the batcave. That’s all

incorporating this ask bc it's relevant:

One day you’re making chai, and you ask him to bring the pot from the stove to the counter for you. That thing^ is lying next to the stove, but he doesn't know what that is. And since he can withstand intense levels of pain without flinching he just. Picks up the boiling pot with his bare hands and brings it to you.

"Why didn't you use the clamp?!" "How was I supposed to know what that thing was!!" You show him how to use it but he's kinda petty ("Why can't you just use a normal pot with a normal handle?! Why are you making more work for yourself?") so he refuses to use it and just keeps handling the pot with his bare hands.

But one day you're deep in conversation while making chai. The pot is boiling and he handles it anyway, but you're distracted and you forget that he can do that. You assume it's not hot so you touch it and burn yourself and he feels sooo bad. He's kissing all over your hands and pampering you for the whole day. He finally gives in and just starts using the stupid clamp.

I hc Bruce as being a consistent meditator. He probably spent a lot of time learning about it while training across the world and it helps him feel grounded and calm. He tries to get his kids to do it too, but they don't all like it as much as him. So if you meditate with him every now and then he really appreciates that.

You try to get him into yoga along with it and he's like...scarily good at it. He's not super flexible like Dick, so he chooses to opt out of the super bendy poses, but his core strength is unmatched. He can balance his entire bodyweight on one limb no sweat. He's not wobbling, shaking, or tipping over. He's still as a statue and he can last for hours. (😏)

If you get married, I don’t think it would be a huge event. Like there would probably be some kind of reception that’s more of a formality/business event than anything else where he puts on Brucie Wayne, but for the actual ceremony I think it would just be the family

He'd fly you to your home country to have the ceremony there at some super fancy historical attraction. Even if it's just you and some other close people, he's getting the whole place shut down for the day just for you.

I can’t imagine needing to step into a stepmom role for anyone? Except maybe Cass, Duke, and Damian when his mom isn’t around. The four of you DEFINITELY gang up on Bruce all the time and make fun of his whiteness.

You’d also totally gift them traditional wear

The first time you make dinner for everyone, you make it spicy and everyone loves it, but Bruce is just sitting there SWEATING

He’s so good at keeping a poker face that you wouldn’t have even been able to tell it was too spicy for him if not for the beads of sweat on his face. You give him milk to help soothe the heat but he never lives it down

But you actually are so mothering to the kids, you make them turmeric milk when they’re sick and chai with biscuits when they come home from school🫶and it's so sweet it makes Bruce fall for you all over again

When you move in the whole wearing shoes in the house still bothers you, but you can’t stop everyone else from doing it, so you declare your bedroom a no shoes zone. Bruce can wear shoes anywhere else in the house but NOT your bedroom.

And if you still feel weird about wearing shoes around the manor, he'll buy you a bunch of pairs of home slippers and stash them all over the place

Whenever you stay over he brings you chai in the morning. Once you're married and living with him, he brings it to you in bed every morning. At one point he's like "You know Alfred can bring it for both of us" but you insist it tastes so much better when it's from him, and he can't say no to you.

me personally i like to support women's organizations in south asia, i.e. access to education and better healthcare which means things like menstrual products & obgyn care so i am going to hc that after you share how passionate you are about those, WE partners with an existing charity for those issues, both in south asia and other parts of the world and raises tons of money to donate...take that if you like it (world so bad we writing fanfic about equality now😭)

Since he's a famous billionaire playboy he 100% has an internet presence (likely curated to fit Brucie) and there are tons of edits and memes about him. When the world finds out his partner is south asian, brown people probably go a little insane and there's definitely tons of those memes where they photoshop his face over someone in traditional wear and caption it "Bajju Wagle" or some other name with his initials LMAO

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: you'd known that Simon wasn't okay since it had been announced that they'd found blood in the boiler room. his pain, his hurt, his loss had spilled out from him and into you and you'd had no clue how to handle it. and then suddenly, you'd been soothed, and all you'd been able to think of had been getting to the source of that comfort and giving thanks.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.8

Wally couldn't stop thinking about earlier. How the slopes and arches of your body fit against him like a puzzle piece. How malleable you'd been under his touch. The intense liquid heat that had thrummed between you both as he'd leaned in to kiss you; heartbeats synchronized, eyes fluttering closed, utterly surrendered to the sensation.

He'd kissed a few girls when he'd been alive. Hell, he'd made out with Dawn a handful of times when adrenaline and hormones had needed an outlet. None of those experiences held a candle to what he'd felt when he'd just barely brushed his lips to yours.

There was something underneath it all. Not just his attraction to you, which he'd harbored for going on two years now. Something else. Something mystical and big and unleashed. Maybe you already knew what it was. After all, you could reach through the veil, hear and see and feel Wally...maybe you had an explanation.

If only the connection between you and Wally hadn't made it practically impossible to finish a conversation.

"Where'd you go, superstar?"

Wally nearly jumped in surprise, having forgotten he wasn't alone. He glanced around, saw Katelynn—the courtyard fatality—and Ajay studying him as intently as Rhonda. They were in the kitchen piling a late lunch of leftovers onto their plates while, around them, the staff muddled through their end-of-day breakdown.

"Uh," Wally supplied, intelligently. He was a miserable liar, something Rhonda had teased him for mirthlessly in the past. Told him he was as easy to read as 3rd grade English (ouch). But he didn't take his promises lightly and knew he had to come up with something or Rhonda would grill him until he broke. Deflection it was, "Do you think Maddie had a good time?"

Rhonda, perched primly on a counter, rolled her eyes and plucked a bread roll from the bin one of the staff was about to seal. "Jesus, you really are ditzy for her, huh?"

"I wouldn't say that," Wally said. He really wouldn't, "I just want her to—"

"Confess her undying love? Make you the center of her universe and forget all about her dreamy, badboy ex?" Rhonda scoffed, "Hate to break it to you, hot stuff, but you'd just be a rebound and we all know how those end."

"Badly?" Katelynn guessed. Having been fourteen when she'd kicked the bucket, she'd likely never had the chance to explore the intricacies of romance. Or of all its thorns.

Rhonda's hands clamped and then bloomed in front of her as she vocalized a bomb exploding.

"No, Rhonda, that's not it," Wally spoke in long strokes, as if to a child, willing away a flash of irritation. "What I was gonna say was that I want her to know there's more to being dead than trying to solve your own murder." Since, after all was said and done, there'd be nothing left to do besides passively haunt Split River High.

And that shit got dull after a semester or two.

Unexpectedly, "I spoke to her today." Rhonda admitted, somewhat reluctant, as the group paraded from the kitchen into the cafeteria. Wally encouraged her to continue with a smile, "About how I died. She thought it could help, so..." She slid into her regular seat next to Wally, eyes fixed on her plate, "I guess it did because she took off after."

It was obvious that relinquishing even that morsel of information made her uncomfortable, shoulders curled to her ears and lips pursed, those metaphorical walls re-erecting.

Wally clapped her on the back, "You did good, Deadly." A fond nickname he used sparingly as it often earned him an elbow to the ribs.

This time, Rhonda simply glared a warning at him before tearing a piece off her bread roll and smearing it through the gravy on Wally's plate. Progress, he supposed.

To move the conversation away from Rhonda, Wally engaged Katelynn, "I saw you with the extinguisher today."

Katelynn grinned through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"You know what we should do next time? We get those chairs with the wheels, a couple of fire extinguishers..." He mimed the scene with fervor, grinning conspiratorially between the others, "We could do it in the gym. Take bets. See who goes farthest. It would be awesome!"

Rhonda patted his knee twice—thank you—under the table. How she displayed gratitude without being obvious. As discreetly as possible, Wally returned the gesture, tapping three times to indicate I've got you.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Somehow, you'd done it: graduated to the end of the school day without incident. Sure, Mathilda had given you a funny look when you'd made your excuses to stay behind, but she'd been too distracted by what pieces to include in her portfolio to cross-examine you about it.

"Text me later, sillybean!" She called over her shoulder as she, Hana, and Lucas exited the school.

The siblings waved in unison, Hana pirouetting and blowing you a kaleidoscope of exaggerated kisses before falling back into step with her brother.

You turned back to your locker, shoving in your backpack and your uncle's hoodie. You'd accepted that the connection between you and Wally quashed any attempt you made to hide from him; berated yourself for not realizing it sooner.

After you'd closed the door and slipped the lock back into place, you mustered your courage and turned toward the direction of the theater. You could do this. Without getting sidetracked.

Yeah, you believed that about as much as you believed the lunchroom bread rolls were 'made fresh' everyday.

A metallic clamor caught your attention before you'd even stepped a foot forward, causing you to hesitate. Down several lockers along the row, Simon shook his lock against the hasp furiously. He was unmistakably upset, jaw tight, vibrating with unfettered anger.

You approached him just as he kicked the locker below his.

"Here," You said, inserting yourself between Simon and his locker, "What's the combo?"

Without pause, "8-37-15," he recited through gritted teeth.

You dialed the combination, unhooked the lock and held it out for Simon to take.

"You okay?" You asked, already aware of the answer.

"Yes." Simon lied then abruptly changed his mind, "No. I don't know." He dumped his bag at his feet and rummaged through the contents of his locker only to give up and spin around. Propped against the closed bottom level, Simon ran his hands through his hair roughly, reminding you of someone with responsibility that outweighed their experience.

"What's going on, Si?"

He lifted his head, brow creased with despair, "Aren't friends supposed to trust each other?"

The question knocked you for six. Unsure if it was rhetorical, you chose to stay quiet and, sure enough, Simon expounded. "Aren't friends supposed to tell each other things, even if it's hard? Even if they think it might hurt? Because, at the end of the day, you chose that person to be there for you no matter what. And that person chose you right back."

No questions asked. Your voice overlapped with Xavier's, years worth of emotional petitions for comfort and unbiased support echoing in your head.

Thinking of your friend, you wondered, "Is this about Nicole leaving with Xavier after lunch?"

Simon seemed surprised by the news, yet, after a second, confirmed, "Yeah. Uh, yeah, it's about that."

He stared at his feet, arms folded tightly across his middle, chewed his lip as he pondered what he wanted to disclose. Finally, "I just want to be there for her, but it's like she won't let me. And it sucks." His voice was damp with pain. "And now she's pissed and she's shut me out and...I don't know what to do."

When he raised his head again, you almost choked on the sorrow in his eyes. You wanted to hug him, hold him, cry. Here was a boy whose best friend had, for all intents and purposes, left him behind, and now he was scared he'd lost someone else.

The mounting sadness radiating from Simon made your eyes sting. You had no clue how to comfort him, not like you did Xavier or Mathilda, the two people you'd chosen and who'd chosen you back.

The strength of secondhand emotion chipped away at you, threatened to shatter you into a thousand anguished pieces, but just as you thought you would break, a familiar warmth sunk into the cracks. The sensation blossomed upward and concentrated behind your ribs, loosening a deep breath of relief.

Absently, you shifted your hand the slightest bit away from where it rested against your thigh, the movement undetectable unless one was looking for it. The warmth grew, contented and safe, and then—a whisper of fingertips across the back of your hand, there and gone.

You didn't move, kept your gaze on Simon; simply waited for Wally to enter your periphery. His back was to you, his hand returning to his jacket pocket as he, Rhonda, and a couple of others walked toward the end of the hall. You vaguely saw him split from the rest of the group, Wally going left while the other three went right.

Simon swallowed, mournful, and he rasped, "What do I do?"

Invigorated by Wally's touch, you planted yourself in front of Simon, placed your hands on his shoulders, and urged him to, "Talk to her. People knock communication like it's some cringe cliché, but it's the best way to resolve things." He nodded, weak but resolute, and you dragged him into a hug. "Trust me," You said, "Just be honest and listen. You don't have to understand everything, you just have to accept it."

Simon chuckled wetly, squeezed you tighter for an instant before releasing you.

"Thanks."

"Any time." And you meant it in your bones. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Simon said, scrubbing the back of his wrist over his eyes, "I'll be fine." He cleared his throat, "Listen, um, I forgot something in the cafeteria, but if you want to wait I could give you a ride home."

Something in his tone suggested the offer was halfhearted, though you appreciated it all the same.

"Nah, it's cool. I have to study." You replied, already positioning yourself to leave. Simon didn't mention that the library was in the other direction, merely flashed you a small, grateful smile.

"See you tomorrow." He saluted.

Free to excuse yourself, you found you had to fight the desire to go go go, hurry, go, that warm sensation purring louder the closer you got to the theater. Fuck making sure the coast was clear, you were supposed to be in there right now; swung the door open with probably a lot more force than necessary.

Wally, who had been sitting on the edge of the stage awaiting your arrival, hopped down as soon as you entered the darkened space, his gaze instantly locking with yours.

One dubious step, two, three, and the warmth fizzled and licked inside you, encouraging your pace to quicken, faster, nearer. You broke into a run, closing the distance, Wally's stare never wavering. With less than a foot remaining, you sprung up, body colliding into his. He caught you easily, held you in his arms with one hand under your thigh and the other around your waist.

No thoughts, no words, no inhibitions; fever-hot and eager; Wally's jaw in your palms, you surged forward and pressed your lips to his.

💀___________________________

PART SEVEN - PART NINE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[sillygoosealert]

hi again 😋 can i request reader giving bi-han the silent treatment after a disagreement or bi-han just being bi-han 😭 and when it’s time for bed they decide to sleep on the couch or in a separate room and that’s when he’s had enough and demands for them to talk and pulls the grandmaster card🫣😋 sorry if this was all over the place LMFAO

No, because you're on to something with that. It was not all over the place btw 🎀

Obey your GrandMaster

Bi-han angst to fluff

It’s late again tonight when Bi-Han returns to his room. You’ve been waiting hours after he said he would return. Everything is neat and orderly, and you hate it. You hate how you clean things in preparation for him, wait for him- and nothing. Maybe you actually hate how you let him ignore you just for you to follow him around until he sees you.

You’re like a dog- or rather something more vile. A rodent would be more fitting. You are small compared to him. He is much more respectable, powerful, and well-known than you. He is a well-dressed businessman and you are a rat that is following him around begging for a morsel. A crumb to satisfy your raging hunger that is the need to feel seen. But he won’t see you, he won’t even know about the problem. It could be plastered across every poster and billboard but he wouldn’t see it. Maybe he can’t fix your problem. Maybe you would have to accept that and find someone who could.

Then the door to the room opens. He comes inside and walks towards you. You aren’t excited, you feel a little sad that you can’t wallow and pout anymore. He runs his fingers through your hair and immediately leaves to go to the shower.

When he returns you frown and catch him before he goes to sleep.

‘I want to talk’

‘Okay, we can talk’

‘You don’t have time for me anymore. You don’t touch me, talk to me, kiss me. Are we even together?’

‘Do not speak to me that way. We are together. I do touch you. And I do kiss you. Where is this coming from?’

‘You only acknowledge me when I beg you to. These things don’t come to you naturally. I can’t just act like it doesn’t hurt me- like you don’t hurt me when you can’t even face me when you go to sleep’

‘You are being outrageous, I do not have time for these- these silly accusations’

‘I can't deal with this right now. Goodnight.’ you are leaving the room now.

‘Where do you think you're going?’

Nothing is said. You walk out and go to the couch. Fluffing up one of the decretive pillows, you lay down and close your eyes. He comes out a few minutes after you leave. He didn't think you would actually sleep somewhere else for the night.

‘You are being absurd, get back to bed. It is late.’

Nothing once again. It clicks for him that you are ignoring him. He is getting the silence treatment for not compromising.

‘You dare ignore me?’

Crickets.

‘I demand you to answer me.’

He can huff and puff all he wants, you are staying firm on your talking strike.

‘Obey your Grandmaster, retaliation will be met with punishment’

He is standing infront of you now, one hand gripping your jaw. He's squeezing your cheeks. Now you're crying. He picks you up and carries you to bed.

‘I..will not be punishing you if that's what is troubling you..’

‘Did you listen to anything I said earlier?’You cough out through sobs.

‘I am at an understanding you need me to provide more for you. If that is what upsets you I will try to make it part of my day to spend an hour with you.’

‘Thank you..’ you sniffle

He wraps his arms around you and you are on top of him. Your head is under his chin, and his nose is in your hair. It feels nice to be held, to feel his love. He's trying, you're trying, and it’s enough. You're enough for him. And he's enough for you.

🎀

[vintagetvstars]

Claude Rains Vs. William Hopper

Propaganda

Claude Rains - (Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Wagon Train, Rawhide) - "The reason I got into Old Hollywood and started studying theatre and film! He's such a little cutie as well as a smoking hot, velvet voiced morsel of evil - he's that good and can play both so easily!..." text propaganda continued below the cut.

William Hopper - (Perry Mason) - "Why do I love him? The list abounds..." text propaganda continued below the cut.

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Claude Rains:

While he might be more famous for his movie roles(like Casablanca, The Invisible Man, Lawrence of Arabia, Now, Voyager, and Mr. Skeffington to name a few!), he was also a television star in his own right! He had lots of guest spots on various shows but in the tv-realm, he's probably the most well known for his work for "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" and was a frequent collaborator with Hitch himself, having the spotlight for five episodes! My favorite tv performance of his was playing Father Amion in the episode "The Horseplayer", where he plays the kindest priest who gets taken for a ride and it's so heartbreaking to see him in tears where he confesses that it's his fault the church's funds were used for less than better means (but it all works out in the end!). It's such an honest performance and it's a refreshing change from all his evil villians (but we love them anyway!) he'd done in the past. Another favorite performance of mine is his performance as Leonard Eldridge in the episode "The Door Without a Key", a seemingly amnesiac old man who makes a bond with a lost boy in a police station. They're adorable together and I found myself tearing up a little when they both confess how lonely they are in the world.

William Hopper -

William Hopper was a tall guy (6'3"!) but such a gentle sweetheart. He was in acting for the majority of his life (barring serving as a frogman in WWII and working as a car salesman post-war for a few years), but he really stepped into his own with his role as Private Detective Paul Drake in the Perry Mason TV Series from 1957-1966. William Hopper actually didn't really love the Hollywood scene, mostly because he grew up with it since he was a child. His mother was Hedda Hopper and she really wanted him to be an actor and became quite overbearing about it, but he was more of an introverted soul. He first started out in films in his early 20s, but William Hopper always felt like people were giving him jobs because of his mother's influence with her gossip column. HOWEVER, after the war and after William Hopper sold cars for a few years, he came back to acting but he said he was only going to come back if 1) he did it his way/gave himself to it and 2) his mother stayed out of his career so he could make it on his own. Those two things happened, and William Hopper made his own way.

His big major starring role in a television series was, without a doubt, Perry Mason. He was Private Detective Paul Drake. To take on that role, William Hopper personally went out and made friends with Private Detectives to try to bring their experiences to his role. William Hopper also was credited by Alan Alda for showing the acting world how to shine as an actor without demanding the spotlight all the time. Alda said: “William Hopper’s ability to be present in a scene without demanding the spotlight is an art form in itself. He showed us that one can shine without the blinding glare.” Which, I think, really was a big testament to William Hopper playing a private detective--- he was always commanding the series and making the moves and observations that led to finding the guilty person in a criminal case, but he was always doing so in a way that was true to the work of a private detective: hiding and working in plain sight.

Other fun facts about William Hopper that make him so lovable: he LOVED the beach and loved fishing and swimming. When he wasn't filming for Perry Mason (they would film 6 days a week for 1 episode during filming), William Hopper would go to the beach. According to an interview, William Hopper's personal wardrobe was mostly casual clothes: swim trunks, sandals, and sweatshirts. He took all his formal wear to the Perry Mason set and just kept it there to wear when he played Paul Drake. He said if he ever had to go to a formal occasion, he would just go drive to the Perry Mason set and pick out one of his outfits. But the formal wear he had was bold! He wore houndstooth jackets, various checked patterns, and herringbone. If he wasn't at the beach, he loved to go to baseball games. In school, he played sports: swimming, baseball, boxing, and basketball.

he's the guy on the far left - I know his face is hard to see here but I'm going for the Hot Vintage Man bare shoulders vibe:

I spoke before about how William Hopper made a lasting impact as an actor portraying Paul Drake and shining without demanding the spotlight, but he also made a lasting contribution to Paul Drake's character. Paul Drake was a character based on Erle Stanley Gardner's books, which were published between 1933-1973. When William Hopper got the role as Paul Drake in the Perry Mason TV show from 1957-1966, Gardner was still writing the books. When asked about playing Paul Drake, William Hopper said: "If they thought they were getting Paul Drake, they were mistaken. Because what they got was me, nobody else. I play him my way. Now I'm amused to read Gardner's new books. Paul Drake comes out like me."

He made such a lasting impression on Paul’s character on TV that even the author of the books started writing Paul like William Hopper's interpretation!

There's also an anecdote from the wardrobe supervisor on the set of Perry Mason who said William Hopper was a very kind man, a good guy, and a good actor. William Hopper's cast mate, Raymond Burr, once said that "William Hopper was even more precise, more good looking, more fun" in real life than what we, the viewers, got to see him on screen.

To add some more to Raymond Burr's point that William Hopper was "fun", he liked to play practical jokes with his castmates on Perry Mason. In an interview, William Hopper said "You might say there's never a serious moment except on camera." He and all his castmates on the set loved to play jokes with each other to make each other laugh. So he was just a fun guy to be around, apparently!

Also, in the final season of Perry Mason, William Hopper cut a tendon on his foot while filming and he wound up in a cast. They had to rewrite the final episodes so that William Hopper didn't have to do a lot of running around like he usually does. Well, in all those final episodes, you wouldn't even tell that William Hopper was in a cast and having to move around in crutches. And I realize that yeah, they rewrote the scripts to help, but William Hopper doesn't waiver once and doesn't let on about his injury. Plus, according to an interview, the cast attached a little horn to William Hopper's crutches and William Hopper would honk the horn when he was coming to let his cast mates know he was there. Which I just kind of think is sweet.

idk I feel like his hands are pretty beautiful here:

Also, I talked before about William Hopper struggling a bit in finding his own way in acting. It wasn't really until he got into TV shows and with Perry Mason that he felt like he found his place and enjoying acting. Before, William talked about being nervous in front of the camera, but it was working on a LIVE TV show with Claire Trevor when he said, "I was so scared I canceled. I swore I'd never act again as long as I lived. Then I thought, what the heck, they can't shoot me, and walked on the set. Something happened then. It was as if someone had surgically removed the nerves."

And when he talks about his role as Paul Drake, he said, "I'm very fond of him, and as long as Perry Mason is around on television defending various and sundry clients, Paul and I will be very happy to be around helping him."

So he really came into his own as Paul Drake, which I really love about William Hopper. To know he found his way and made something he felt proud of.

Also in terms of William Hopper being physically attractive, I mean, he was so incredible. He once said he was just a guy with premature grey hair and a non throbbing actor, but I personally think he's a heart throb. He had the most loveable smile, broad shoulders, a deep, sultry voice, amazing chest hair (lol), and like.. really absurdly beautiful hands?!? He was also really tall and strong but also by every account he was really gentle and sweet. Larger than life. Sometimes in the Perry Mason shows, William Hopper would swim and he has an incredible swim scene that rivals Mr. Darcy. He's in swim trunks and wins a swim race and comes dripping out of the pool to make anyone swoon. I just love him!

[strniohoeee]

OUUUU A REQUEST!!!

SMUT enemies one bed troupe with chris! GOD ID GIVE YOU MY KIDNEY FOR IT

Vie

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N hates Chris with every morsel in her body. They’re always fighting like children. Unfortunately one day her and Chris are stuck together for a 4 hour drive…..I wonder what happens 🗣️

Warnings⚠️: THIS IS SMUTTTTT, enemies to lovers ish, and just my favorite trope ever. This was long asf LMAOO, but I really loved writing it!🫶🏽

Song for the imagine: Friends- Chase Atlantic

⚠️This is an 18+ story, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

All of your friends have been here for too long

They must be waiting for you to move on (woo)

Girl, I'm not with it, I'm way too far gone

I was finishing packing for the trip I was going on with the triplets when my phone started to light up. I saw Nick calling me

“Heyyy” I said picking up the phone

“Hiii I’m so sorry to call last minute, but is there any way you could pick Chris up?” He asked

“Uhhh why do I have to pick him up?” I asked getting a bit annoyed

“Well he’s a fucking idiot and we thought he got in the back seat, but he packed his shit in the back seat and made it look like he was in there, so we drove off while he was in the shower” Nick said laughing

“Wow he really is an idiot” I said laughing

“Yeah and he was screaming at us over the phone, so would you be a doll and pick him up. I’ll literally pay you, so we don’t have to turn back around” Nick said

“Don’t worry about paying me I’ll get him, but just know if he pisses me off enough I’m leaving him on the side of the road to hike to Vegas alone” I said back

“That’s fine I completely understand it” he said laughing

“Alright I’m almost done packing. I’ll head out in a few and go get him” I said

“Perfect thank you! See you in Vegasssss” he said before hanging up

A four hour drive with Chris…..I needed a gun actually. I fucking hated this kid and he hated me. We kept our distance at all fucking times, so having to sit right next to him and endure his annoying childish behavior was starting to piss me off.

After about an hour of finishing packing and making sure I had everything. I drove over to the triplets house which was like another 30 minutes. I really liked making Chris wait. I know he was getting so impatient.

I pulled up to their house and texted Chris that I was here, about 5 minutes later he came strolling out.

“Did you lock the door” I yelled out to him after rolling my window down

“I’m not a child of course I did” he said rolling his eyes

“Mmm are you sure about that?” I asked him

Chris rolled his eyes and walked back to the house….he did in fact not lock the door.

“Just saved your ass” I said as he came back and hopped in the car

“Shut the fuck up” he replied slamming the door shut

“Awww what’s wrong” I asked putting the hotel in Vegas directions in and getting ready to drive off

“Well my dumbass brothers left without me, and then you take over an hour and a half to get to me” he said huffing out

“Well if you weren’t an idiot and didn’t pack the car making it seem like you were in there, they wouldn’t have left you” I said driving off

“Yeah whatever I don’t care” he said throwing his book bag to the back of the car

“Well we’re going to be driving together for 4 hours, and I’d like to not be stressed out. I want to listen to my music and have a nice drive” I said looking over at him

“Consider me invisible” he said lifting his hood up

“Oh I consider you invisible on the daily, so this shouldn’t be an issue” I said coming to a stop at a red light

“I’m trying to be on my best behavior because Nick and Matt already talked to me about being nice to you” he said huffing

“So sad they have to talk to their grown brother about being nice to me” I said giggling

“Shut up already” he said putting his shoes on my dashboard and bending his knees

“Are you fucking crazy get your shoes off my dashboard” I said smacking his legs

“Ow you bitch” he said dropping his legs and moving away

“Don’t call me that, and this isn’t your car so show some decorum” I said rolling my eyes

“Decorum…stop using big words” he said getting upset

“Just have respect for my shit” I said huffing out a breath of annoyance

We were an hour and a half in to our drive, and Chris was chewing his snacks like an animal, burping loudly, playing his videos at max volume, talking on the phone at max volume.

I was being very patient, but he was making my skin crawl with anger. My last straw happened when he skipped my songs until he landed on something he liked

“Uh no” I said smacking his hand away

“What?” He said laughing

“I can put up with the loud chewing, the obnoxious volume of your phone and the burping, but do not touch my fucking stereo” I said glancing over at him

“Your music is fucking ass” he said shrugging his shoulders

“Oh sorry I don’t want to listen to songs solely about fucking bitches and selling drugs” I said rolling my eyes

“That’s not the only music I listen to” he said

“Sure seems like it” I said

Chris reached over and changed the song again

“HANDS OFF IDIOT” I said getting annoyed

“YOUR MUSIC IS SHIT” he yelled back

“Should’ve brought your own headphones then” I said

“I did” he said

“So then where are they?” I asked him

“In my other bag” he said in a whisper

“YES in the other bag your dumbass packed in the other car ahaha now you have to listen to my music” I said laughing at him

“Yeah whatever” he said rolling his eyes

Chris reached over to skip to the next song

“DONT” I said sternly, he ignored me anyways and pressed next

“Don’t change this one I like it” I said putting the volume up as Thinkin Bout You by Frank Ocean started to play

“I like this song too” he said sitting back

“You like this song? Yeah right” I said laughing

“No I do I swear” he said

Chris and I sang along to the song. I can say in the three years that I’ve known Chris this was the most pleasant time we’ve ever shared, and who thought it would be over Frank Ocean. We even sang to each other in a joking way completely forgetting the hate we both share for one another.

We were now 2 and a half hours into our drive when suddenly traffic came to a complete stop.

“What the fuck?” I said looking at my google maps

Suddenly my google maps time went up another hour

“A fucking hour slow down?” Chris said with his jaw dropping

I called Nick to see where they were at.

“Hey where are yall at? We’re stuck in an hour slow down” I said

“Hey, we're a little over an hour away. We got stuck in that slow down half an hour ago but it was only 20 minutes it looked like a 8 car accident or some shit” he responded

“God damn I don’t know if I can sit in an hour slow down” I said

“See how long you can stick it out, and if not just get a hotel and meet us in the morning. I’ll talk to the front desk people in Vegas and see what I can do” he responded

“Okay yeah thanks” I said

We both hung up. We were sitting in stand still traffic for a good 25 minutes when Chris started to annoy me.

“I’m hungry and I have to pee” he whined

“Yeah me too, and you don’t see me complaining” I told him

“Maybe we should get a hotel room” he said

“Mmm or we can wait it out” I said

“I’m going to piss my pants in your car then” he shrugged his shoulders

“Can’t you hold it for another 35 minutes holy shit” I said getting annoyed

“No I can’t. That’s fine I’ll just hop out right now and whip my dick out and just pee infront of everyone” he said unbuckling his seat belt

“You’re not embarrassing me like that” I said stopping him

“Well then the choice is yours” he said smiling at me like an asshole

“Oh my god you’re insufferable fine, I’ll get off right here and find a hotel or some shit” I said

I drove to a gas station first filling up my tank while Chris ran in to pee and get more snacks. He got back in the car and I went inside to pee too.

I got back in the car, and drove to the nearby hotel google maps showed me. We both hopped out and walked in.

“Hi welcome in” the lady at the front desk said

“Hi, how are you?” I asked walking closer

“I’m good, checking in?” She asked

“Actually I was wondering if you guys had two rooms available, or at least a room with two beds” I asked her

“I can check, but I’m not so sure” she said

“That’s fine! There a bad slow down on the highway, so we figured we just pull off for the night” I said nodding at her

“Oh that sucks! Let me check for you” she responded again

I walked over to Chris and told him she was checking. We sat in silence while we waited for her to check the system

“Oh uh maam” she said calling me over

Chris and I walked over to her

“So we have a room, but it’s only one king size mattress” she said

“Only one bed?” I asked her my face dropping

“I’m afraid so” she said

“Are there any hotels nearby that might have two beds available?” Chris asked her

“Considering it’s a Friday night, many hotels are taken up” she said

“That’s alright we’ll take the room, and he’ll pay” I said nodding at her and patting Chris on the chest

He looked at me before titling his head and rolling his eyes.

I walked out to the car grabbing his book bag and my one suitcase.

We both went up to the room, and opened the door. Both sighing in defeat at the sight of one bed we’d have to share.

“I’m going to shower don’t destroy anything” I said to Chris

I grabbed my stuff out of my suitcase and showered. Once I was done Chris showered also.

I tried to stay on the little loveseat and far away from the bed because I did not want to share it with him.

“Movie?” He asked

“I’m sorry, was that English? Are you two years old” I said getting annoyed

“Do you want to watch a movie stupid” he asked rolling his eyes

“Sure doesn’t really matter to me” I said rolling my eyes

Chris and I sat on the bed far away from one another as we watched a movie and ate our snacks. We watched two more movies before we decided it was late enough and we should get to bed.

Chris and I had brushed our teeth, and I decided I would sleep curled up on the loveseat.

“The fuck are you doing?” He asked me

“Going to bed what does it look like moron” I said fluffing the pillow it

“It’s a huge bed big enough for the both of us to share, so put your pride aside and just come to the bed” he said

“No I’m good” I said letting my legs dangle off the edge of the seat and slouching down

“Suit yourself” he said laughing before shutting the lights off

About ten minutes later I really wished I pushed my ego aside and laid in that damn bed. My back was curved in such an awkward way, my legs becoming numb because they were dangling and my neck hurting from straining

“In pain I bet” I heard Chris say

“Says who” I spat back

“Says the fact you can’t stay still and you’re keeping me awake” he said

“Oh shut up” I said getting annoyed

“Just lay in the bed I’ll literally put my head on the opposite end” he said

“I’m not sleeping near your feet you sicko” I replied in a hushed yell

“Well then pick your poison” he said

I huffed standing up cracking my back and neck before snatching my pillow and throwing it on the empty side of the bed

I laid down allowing my back to be aligned and I let out a sigh of relief

“Isn’t it nice when you just shut up and listen to other people for once” Chris said in a whisper

“Stop talking to me and shut your eyes” I said back

He huffed out in annoyance and got silent.

I tried to fall asleep but my mind started racing. I was laying in bed with Chris only a foot away from me, he was shirtless and in his boxers…..my heart started to race a little bit

There’s no denying that Chris is attractive. It's just when he opens his mouth I want to smack him, but also kiss him?? I don’t know what I’m thinking it’s late

We both had full control of this situation…I mean I could make a move but would he go along with it? I can feel his body heat radiating off of him and my body started to ache with an unfamiliar feeling…..well a feeling I knew all too well, but this wasn’t a feeling I’ve ever had for Chris….

My throat kept running dry as I thought of all the possibilities that could happen had I just opened my mouth and told Chris I wanted to kiss him.

No! stand strong…..it’s late at night you don’t know what you’re thinking

“Why are you breathing so hard?” Chris asked me suddenly

“I thought you were asleep” I whispered back to him

“I’m trying too but you’re breathing like you just ran a race” he said back

“Sorry” was all I could whisper back

“No smart comment, I’m shocked” he said

I looked over at Chris only being able to see the silhouette of him, and I could tell he was facing towards me.

“I’m too tired for all that” I said back

“You’re acting weird” he said

“Am not” I said my breathing getting quicker

Chris suddenly reached over placing his left hand on my heart

“Why is your heart racing so fast” he asked

“Get off of me” I said pushing his hand away

“You’re a weirdo” he said

“You ever….you ever just think you’ve made the wrong mistake in life” I blurted out

“Woah deep talks with y/n” he said laughing

“Forget I said anything” I said rolling my eyes

“I’m kidding, yeah of course I do for some things” he replied back

“I feel that way, but uhh but about you” I whispered the last part

“What do you mean” he asks

“Laying here right now my heart is racing and my breathing is getting shallow. To know that you’re so close yet so far away, and that I can’t have you is messing with my head” I told him

“Who says you can’t have me?” He asks in a whisper

“Don’t mess with my head Chris” I said shaking my head

Chris pulled me to face him and only then could I really see some of his features.

“Would it be wrong to kiss you?” He asked me

“No” I whispered out breathlessly

Chris ghosted his lips over mine teasing me

“I thought you hated me?” He said

“I don’t know what I feel about you anymore” I said back

Chris rubbed his thumb on my cheek before connecting our lips in a long passionate kiss. A kiss that made all my hatred for him flutter away. This felt so wrong yet so right. Chris is not supposed to be mine, I’m supposed to despise him….but in this moment I simply can not

Pulling away we looking into each others eyes, our noses touching

“Would it be wrong to say I want more?” I asked him

“No” he whispered to me

“Chris I need you right now” I said running my hands up his toned arms and to his neck

Pulling him in to reconnect our lips as my hand ran through his hair

“God I hate that I don’t hate you” I said pulling away

“Why do you want to hate me?” He asks laughing lightly

“Because it’s easier to hate than to have this burning desire for someone” I said

“I suppose that’s true” he said

Chris leaned over allowing me to fall back on my back as he hovered over me. Leaving light kisses on my neck as he trailed his right hand up and down my body squeezing my hips

He reconnected our lips and slid his hands under my shirt cupping my breasts in his hands causing me to disconnect from the kiss to let out a small moan

I lifted up so he could remove my shirt for me and then reconnected our lips again. Slowly kissing my jawline and down to my neck leaving open mouth kisses down my chest and to the valley of my breasts

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked me

“Yeah Chris I do” I panted out

Chris kissed up the valley of my breasts and cupped my breast grabbing my left breast and swirling his tongue around my nipple

“Ohh” I moaned out lightly my fingers running through his hair

He moved over to my right breast doing the same thing. This action alone was making me so wet I began to shift under him and whimpering out

Chris kissed down my stomach kissing over my clothes pussy causing me to grip his hair and moan out his name

He came back up and helped me slip out of my underwear

Running his hands up my legs and to my thighs giving them a squeeze

“Please Chris” I said

“I know” he whispered back

Chris slipped his own boxers off and slowly stroked himself, leaning forward on his forearm his used his right hand to guide his dick to my entrance

Slowly pushing himself in, his breathing hitching at the feeling.

“Fuck y/n you feel so good” he panted out as he bottomed out

He allowed his right arm to lean near my head as he started to thrust into me, my legs spreading wider for him. And my right hand wrapping around his left bicep

He leaned his head into my neck, his hair tickling my face and his chain slowly sliding against my collar bone

His thrusts becoming deeper and harder causing my mouth to fall open

“Oh fuck Chris this feels so good” I moaned out gripping the hair at the back of his head with my left hand.

“Fuck” he moaned out at this feeling

I leaned up a little more and wrapped my legs around his waist, his breathing becoming heavier sounding like a song in my ear. Our chests touch, sending shockwaves through my brain. Who wouldve thought fucking Chris would be this amazing

Chris thrust became faster and my moans fell out of my mouth with no signs of stopping. I never wanted this feeling to stop

“Keep going Chris I’m going to cum soon” I said raking my nails up and down his back

“Okay baby” he moaned out licking his lips as he thrusted into me harder

I laid back down and Chris leans back a bit, placing my thighs over his own as he slammed into me

“Fuckkkkkk” I moaned out gripping the sheets above my head

Chris brought his hand down to rub my clit with his thumb causing my back to arch off the bed

“Oh my god” I moaned out shutting my eyes and letting my mouth fall open

With a few more thrusts I was beginning to shudder on Chris’ dick.

“I’m going to cum” I said

“Come on pretty girl” he cooed at me

He rubbed faster, and suddenly my stomach tightened causing my thighs to shake and my eyes to screw shut

“Fuck fuck fuck” I moaned out as I came all over him

He helped me ride out my high as I tried to catch my breath. And soon he pulled out of me, stroking his dick a few times before painting my lower abdomen in his cum.

“Fuck Y/N” he moaned out as I saw him lean his head back and his arm moving to help him ride out his own high

Chris caught his breath before getting off the bed, slipping his boxers back on and turning the lamp on

His eyes glanced over at me, my body in a sheen of sweat as I laid there limp and fucked out

Chris came back with a small wet towel to wipe me clean.

I slid my underwear and my shirt back on. Chris shut the light off and came in closer pulling me to his chest.

“I’m glad you hated me it made for some pretty hot sex” he said kissing my cheek

“You’re such a weirdo” I said giggling

“A weirdo just for you” he said back

Chris and I laid in one another’s arms talking a bit before we both fell asleep.

Our alarm for 6AM going off, so we could check out by 7AM. Chris and I had both showered and packed up our stuff.

I texted Nick that we were checking out of the hotel and heading to grab breakfast before getting back on the road. Thankfully it was only an hour and a half drive to the Vegas hotel.

Chris grabbed our bags and we walked to the car. He placed everything in and before letting me get in the car he gave me a kiss

“God you’re so beautiful” he whispered out

“You’re so corny” I said rolling my eyes and blushing

Chris rolled his eyes at me and we got in the car heading through a Dunkin’ Donuts drive thru for breakfast and hoping back on the highway

We spent the rest of the car ride laughing and enjoying each other's music.

Who would’ve thought sharing a king size bed would right our wrongs….

The End

Hope y’all enjoyed this one! I actually really loved writing this one🤭 so whoever requested this I hope you enjoyed it as well! I love yall🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[nomstellations]

They had been pretty lucky thus far- evading claws that tried to snatch them up, jaws that tried to trap them within, and hungry predators that saw an easy mark. Today wasn't one of those victorious days.

Swiftly, before they could react, a hand snatched them out of their hiding spot. "There you are..." A voice growled from above. "Did you think I wouldn't find you in my own home?" You're face to face with your captor, a smug smirk on their face as they studied you. "I must say, I admire your boldness...but your luck has just ran out, my little morsel. That chase worked up an appetite, and I have a friend that's very eager to meet you..."

They grinned, flashing their teeth as they patted their stomach. Their prey wriggled in their grip, struggling to get free. "N-no! You can't do this!" "Oh, but I can! What's a cute little thing like you going to do about it? Squeak for help?" The predator laughed, lifting them up above their mouth. "It'll be much easier for you to just accept your fate as food...now, so long~"

They opened their mouth wide, dropping the tiny into their mouth and swiftly closing their jaws around them. They could feel them fighting against their tongue as it sampled them, squirming against their confines as they tilted their head back...and swallowed. All that fight was for nothing as they sent that squirmy lump to their stomach. "Ahh, there we go...you're all mine~ Maybe I should've let you call for help? Seconds sounds wonderful right now..."

They felt their little snack enter their stomach, shoving around as the walls apparently closed in. They waited a few moments before speaking again. "...w-was that good? I've never really done anything like that before. Was that enough menace?"

[hey-august]

We all have already made the connection between detachable cock and sexytimes whenever you want, but let’s consider the opposite for a second.

Taking away Buggys dick for a while to rile him up, he gets it back after a few days away and you will make sure that Buggys basic needs are attended to, his hygiene will not be neglected… but you will not help him out whatsoever. Buggy, at sea, away from you, planning and scheming and doing whatever he does just a bit more on edge. Sometimes it’s manageable, sometimes he lays alone in bed at night and his mind wanders and he knows he’s hard right now, there’s no doubt about it, the images in his mind have gone straight to his dick and he would love nothing more than to relief himself… but he can’t. He just has to lay there alone… and be hard. Rubbing the chopped area of his pelvis helped a little at first, but now it just makes it worse and he’s whining and panting whenever his hands roughly knead the soft, smooth flesh down there, humping his pillow, taking a bucket of cold water and dousing himself of with it till his teeth are chattering, it’s the only way he can calm himself down enough before he gets back to sleep.

He’s ready to fuck you so hard you see stars when he gets back, till you forget your own name, till the only name you can remember is his…. But then you two go back to your quarters and you pull out a little, pretty box out of your drawer, sit down on the bed and tell him that you’re gonna unlock him now… but he’s gotta tell you all the naughty things he thought about while you were apart and that little command just throws him into subspace immediately. He’s on his knees, burying his face in your lap, babbling about how he wanted to fuck you so badly, how he wanted YOU to fuck him so badly, how he wanted you all over him and himself all over you in any and all positions, milking him dry till his voice is hoarse, bending you over the vanity and fucking you from behind till you’re screaming, just every little filthy thing he thought about and how desperate he was. „And you did so well. Go ahead, take it back and cum.“

And he just lasts about five feverish strokes before his delayed orgasm hits him like an ocean wave and he’s trembling like a leaf, putting his arms around your waist and hugging you even closer while you coo and pet his hair. Between feeling exposed and embarrassed, your soothing voice also makes him feel comforted and accepted and by god if that wasn’t one of the hottest things that ever happened to him in his life…. But also please let’s not do this for a while again and just have regular sex again when he’s recovered properly yes? Please don’t make him wait for longer than necessary okay?

Anon. Anon. I have been at a loss of words from this. You just show up and drop this delectable morsel and I just want to keep eating it 🤤

Rubbing the empty spot, hello?? Hell yes, absolutely. Maybe finding something phallic to hold there and jack off, hoping that the movement would give even a little relief.

And of course you'd take such good good care of your little captain. Holding it gently, nice warm water, sudsy bubbles, getting eeeeevery growing inch of it clean. Maybe a second scrub, just to be certain. A little kiss on the head before putting it back in the box.

Late at night, you hear something. Muffled thuds from a blunt object wishing it knew what to do. That it could do what it craved.

You might take a peek, wanting to see how pathetically hard and wet that pretty clown cock is. How it's dripping and glistening with precum. A swipe from your finger to get a taste and you could practically see his dick shiver.

Maybe one night you take matters into your own hands. Unfortunately, you finish faster than Buggy and he's left even more unsatisfied than usual.

The rest of him is feverish. Flushed and sweaty. His hands are shaking. His throat is dry. His teeth are chattering. There are tear streaks in his make-up. He was so fucking close. His balls ache so goddamn much.

You were all he could think about. You had consumed his mind, but not his body. Every little fucking thing reminded Buggy of you. And his lack of dick.

Drinking too fast and some liquid escapes his mouth? You struggling to swallow all the damn cum his heavy balls are holding right now.

Climbing the ship's rigging? Using the rope to tie you up and tease you until you're the one with tears and snot running down your face.

Polishing and sharpening his knives? Fuck, he wants to jack off so badly. Anything to break the constant horny hell he's living in.

All the frustrations and fantasies pour out of him when you two are finally together. You're finally here, filling his senses. It's like a dream come to life and all he can do is the one thing he's wanted - to come.

Buggy could not put into words how his incessant neediness heightened everything. How the delay in gratification made the very act of touching himself seem downright sinful. How he needed to orgasm almost as badly as he needed to breathe. How he hoped you would be pleased with each stream of cum that spilled from his swollen head and trembling fingers.

Yeah, this was fun. In a way. Too much to do again soon. Although, imagining coating you in all that cum. Pumping you so full that you're the one exploding and dripping... Well, maybe Buggy could be persuaded to let this happen again sooner than you think.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Don't Waste A Second

Summary: Billy the Kid x Fe!Reader -> You and Billy have been close for a while now, but what happens when your life is put in danger and he has to bargain for your life?

Disclaimer: MDNI: Criminal Minds level (16+ subjects mentioned although not all are carried out, just (kind of) talked about. ANGST, self-deprecation though Billy won't stand for it. Talks of death, blood, gore and gunfire. Fluff splattered around. Not proof read.

First came the sound of gun fire. 

Your heart leaped from your chest and you could feel every morsel of your being being pumped with adrenaline by the minute. 

The head of the rival gang in town sat beside you until he heard the second gun shot before he himself stood and brought you with him. 

“You’re my leverage for my life, woman. Say a word and I will kill you myself.”

It wasn't long until the owner of the gunshots appeared by the door. 

“Well, if it isn’t the Kid himself?”

“Let her go.”

He pulled you higher to his head. Even with a shot like Billy’s, this could pose a danger if he wasn’t careful. 

“Ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Let her go.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to kidnap women?” You spoke before you even thought. 

“I thought I told you to shut up!”

“Hey!” Billy had the man’s attention once more. “You don’t talk to her. You talk to me. I’m the one you have a problem with.”

“Which makes it all the more fun having her here, right by my side.”

Billy raised his gun a little higher.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One wrong move and the bullet goes straight through her skull.”

That made Billy falter a little.

“Now, I know better than anyone that you have a little soft spot for her, so how about we cut a deal?”

“It’s not worth it, Billy.”

“Shut up!”

“I’m not worth it, Billy. Don’t do it. No matter what he says.”

“I thought I told you to shut it!”

The man’s hands dragged roughly around your neck, forcing you to look at the rotting ceiling. 

“Please, Billy. Don’t do it.”

“How much is she worth to you, Billy? Huh? Lookin at her, I’d only give a couple bucks but I have a feeling she means more to you than just a few crummy dollars. What do you say, Kid?”

Whilst the man was talking, you were able to move your hands just enough to remove the silver knife from his pocket. The one he had been spinning in his hands just moments before Billy’s gunshot rang through the house. 

“You got it?”

The man thought he was talking to him, but then you replied.

“Yep.”

In less than 3 seconds, the man felt a sharp stab go into his thigh causing his grip to loosen allowing you a swift escape. However, not before you took the opportunity to drag the blade down his leg, opening the wound further allowing Billy a clear shot of the man’s head if he wanted to take it.

And he did.

Moments later, the body dropped in front of you and you scrambled back on all fours until you got to your knees and found Billy level with you in height. 

He pushed your dirty hair from your face, and checked you over for any visible wounds. There was none yet, that he could see.

“Let’s go home.”

Hours later, you found yourself washed and dressed whilst Billy tended to some of your larger wounds. 

When you had been getting washed, you hadn’t noticed Billy sneak a glance through the gap in the clothing divider. He saw the blood. He saw the brides. He saw the scars. 

Then he heard your voice, trying to be quiet in its pain as you lowered yourself into the tub and tried to clean yourself off. 

He had asked if you needed any help, but you were stubborn. He knew your answer before you even gave it. 

But he gave you no choice afterwards. He would tend to your woods and that was final. 

So, sitting beside him on the worn sofa whilst the fire crackled to keep you both warm. Billy pressed some ointment to the scars that littered the side of your body.

He had called for the town doctor to come and see you. Of course, he came right away and saw to you- at least, what you would show him. He gave you a small prescription for the pain and some cream that would help keep the wounds clean until they finally healed. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Did they…did they do anything to you?”

“Billy. You are applying ointment to my scars and my body is covered in bruises. You’re seriously-“

“Did they touch you?”

You sighed, and moved a little to lift your shirt back up. “No. Not in that way. Though I doubt it would have been long before they did.”

A silence fell over you both once more, Billy breaking it a few minutes later.

“What did you mean before?”

“Before what?”

Billy sighed and replaced the lid on the tin of ointment. Resting his arms on his knees, he leaned forwards and pressed his hands together. You lowered your shirt and looked at him.

“Before, when he had you…he tried to make a bargain for your life. You said it wasn’t worth it. That you weren’t worth it. Why did you say that?”

“Because it’s true. Because I’m not.”

“But you are.”

Billy took your hand in his as he spoke to you. 

“Billy,” you chuckled a little. “ I teach five days a week at the local school. I serve people drinks on the weekends. People come and go and I am still always asked about who I am. I am…me. I’m nobody important.”

“You’re important to me.”

You paused when Billy looked you in the eyes. His hands still held yours. 

“You are everything to me, you hear? Everything. I haven’t been in the same spot since I was a kid. The reason and the only reason behind that is you. You are the reason I stayed. You are the reason I wake up in the morning and make sure everyone is safe in this town because even if just one of them isn’t, then that puts you in danger. I never wanted to see your life be put in danger because of me. You are everything to me, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Billy,”

“I mean it, Y/N. You have my whole life. You are my whole life.”

In that moment, a whole other silence took over and you found Billy moving  closer to you and found yourself doing the same to him. 

He paused for a moment, your noses brushing. He questioned you with his eyes. He needed to know if he was about to be kissed back or punched. 

Instead, he saw you nod slightly and he moved in, pressing a kiss to your lips before his hand came to the side of your face to draw you in closer.

Of course, you had been fond of Billy since the moment you met him. But you didn’t realise you loved him until just a few moments before you found yourself being towed away by a stranger, who had first told you he was one of the children’s uncles - a child who you taught at school and helped out with after class when he couldn’t just quite find the confidence to read out in class, causing his stutter to worsen. 

Billy knew the moment he stepped foot on the school grounds something was wrong. Like it was in the air, or something. 

He held a freshly picked bunch of wild flowers he’d found riding through the hills on his way to meet you. He did this every time, and everytime the pick would be different. He knew you didn’t like gifts - he had heard as much from the town’s local gossip woman when he stopped by her store to pick up some fresh dressings. 

At the time, you had just walked past the store. All Billy had to do was turn around to see when the woman was staring at and found you, with your head buried against a pile of papers and a pencil in your hand, scribbling away as you managed to avoid almost everything that stood in your way. 

“I heard she was engaged once to some fella outside of New York.”

“You hear right.” the woman told the people in the store. “Apparently he broke her heart and she came out here to teach our kids.”

“What did she do back in New York?”

“Governess from what I heard. But the kids grew up, that was just before her engagement.”

Billy would come to learn that the ‘fella’ you were engaged to did break your heart, but not due to his own failings. He had been on a city inspection job when, during his inspection of one of the machines, a water pipe that ran directly under the building exploded. 

Even if the shrapnel hadn't cut through his skin and caused him to bleed out, the weight of the machine that he fell into probably would have crushed him. He died later on in the hospital, but not before dictating very slowly to one of the nurses what he wished he could say to you first. 

You had been given the letter by the nurse shortly after she found you in the waiting room after you had seen his body. 

“Did she ever find anybody else?”

“A couple tried. Hell, some rich railway fella practically tossed diamonds at her feet, but she didn’t want them. She smiled, kissed them on the cheek and made her way back through town. All she does is work and sleep.”

Over some more comments made through the gossip fueled conversation, Billy came to learn that you didn’t like grand gifts or gestures. But rather, subtlety. Subtlety and truth. 

On the weekends when you served multiple drinks, he got to know you and before both of you knew it, he was showing up outside of school when you finished teaching and one day, whilst on a ride back into town, he brought with him a bunch of flowers, just because. 

A few hours later when he rode past your house, he found them in a vase in your kitchen window. 

So, after months of being friends with one another, and having a yearning for more, it came to your realisation that, even just the thought of Billy not turning up or not seeing him every day, knocked you sick. 

There wasn’t a world where you didn’t want to be with him. 

But, on your way out of the school gates, you were met with an ‘Uncle’. 

Pulling back from the kiss, you kept your head against Billy’s. “Wait.”

“I’m sorry, we shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have-”

“No, Billy. It’s not that. I just…”

You pulled back but kept your eyes fixed on Billy, only tearing them away for a moment as you looked to his hand that you took in yours. 

“I need to know that you’re being truthful with me and not just saying all of this because of what happened today. Because, if it’s true, then there are more than just your feelings in this. I just…I don’t want to be hurt, Billy.”

“Darlin’, look at me?”

You looked up and Billy cupped one of your cheeks in his hand. “Everything I have just told you…it’s all true. Even if today hadn't happened, I would have told you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long, but I was being a coward. I love you.”

The next moment felt like an eternity for Billy, until finally, he found the light at the end of the tunnel. 

“I love you, too, Billy.”

He didn’t have to think about what to do next. Pulling you in, he kissed you like he had waited a thousand years just to see you one last time. 

And neither of you were going to waste a second. 

[donutdunker72]

Well, I wrote my first hunger fetish story. Hopefully you like it! Don't be shy to give any feedback or suggestions about what you'd like to see in the future!

Just a couple content warnings: Definitely self indulgent, NSFW, extreme starvation

I think that's about it, it took me 30 minutes to think of a title lol 😅

Word count: 2,330

Characters used are my OC and Juno from Beastars (I love her so much x3)

Stranded

Roman and Juno were celebrating their 1 year anniversary by going on a Caribbean cruise! It's something they've always wanted to do, and with their anniversary coming up, it was The perfect excuse to do it! They booked the tickets, packed their bags, and took off towards their tropical destination. The first few nights were a blast! They were having so much fun taking part in the planned events, eating the delicious food that was available 24/7, and of course, who can forget about the casino on the first floor? Blackjack, baccarat, Mississippi stud, ultimate Texas Hold'em, a variety of slot machines, the list goes on!

On day 5, an announcement is made over the loudspeaker:

“Good evening everyone, this is your captain speaking. I've been informed that there's a tropical storm nearby that seems to be rather strong, I suggest you prepare for a bit of a bumpy ride these next few hours.”

Little did they know that they were in for more than just a tropical storm, but a category 3 hurricane. The storm was getting closer and closer to the ship, violently rocking it back and forth. Eventually, a window on the top floor broke, then another window, then another, and water started pouring in, causing the other patrons to start panicking. Amidst the panic, our two lovebirds were able to escape via a life raft, conveniently big enough for two people, and they started floating off in the sea. A day went by and they ended up crashing onto a small, seemingly deserted island, unsure of what to do, or where to go next.

Juno, babe, are you alright?

I ask, shaking her awake

Y-yeah, I think so. Where are we?

I don't know honestly, but it seems like we've come to a stop on this remote little island here. Wanna help me check it out? Look for supplies, water, stuff like that?

Sure thing ^^

We search the island for anything that could help us. We found a clean water source, but that's about it, no food or supplies whatsoever

Hmm, we have a water source, but no food. That's not good..

I say, really worried about how we'll survive out here for very long

*rrrrrrumble*

I bring a paw to my stomach and rub it

You okay hun?

Juno asks

Yeah, I'm fine, just getting a bit hungry is all. It's probably been a day or two since we've eaten last.

*grrrrrrowl*

Juno brings a paw to her stomach and lets out a soft moan

Now I'm starting to get hungry too..

I feel my cheeks get warm. Hearing and feeling our stomachs growl has always turned me on in the past, but I've never built up the courage to tell her about my fetish before. Though it seems like I don't have a choice now, seeing our current predicament.

Yeah, seems like we don't really have any options either. There's no food anywhere on this island, so it seems like we'll be going hungry for quite a while.

I could feel myself getting hard slightly as I was saying that. Knowing that we might be stuck out here for weeks, months even, without a single morsel of food? Fuck, it gets me riled up just thinking about it.

Night-time approaches us quickly.

Wanna try and get some sleep here?

I ask her

It's getting dark, so I figured we should try. Maybe we'll figure something out tomorrow, who knows?

Sure, that sounds good to me.

We spoon each other on the sand, still warm from the sun, feeling the occasional grumble of her stomach on my back, Juno feeling my tummy grumble in her paws as she holds me from behind

Love you babe~

I kiss her on the forehead as she blushes

I love you too hun~

She kisses me back

A week passes by, still no sign of any food or way to get off of this island. We've stripped down to just our underwear, seeing as our clothes needed to dry off. It felt better to feel the warm breeze on our fur anyway. Our bellies have caved in a noticeable amount, our ribs and hip bones are more visible, and our stomachs have gotten louder.

GGGGRRRRRROOOOOWWWWWLLLL

I wake up and clutch my stomach, feeling it rumble underneath my paws. I look down at my stomach to see it caved in, a slight tent developing in my underwear.

Are you hungry too?

Juno asks, walking over as she rubs her belly. I can't help but stare at her body a bit.

Ugh, very. It's getting loud too~

She looks me over, seeing my caved in stomach and ribs and notices the slight bulge in my underwear, causing her to blush.

I-Is everything alright?~

She asks

I notice what she's staring at and blush a bit.

O-oh, yeah! Just uh, morning, you know? ^^

I say, trying to play it off

Are you sure? You just seem a bit off lately. I want to make sure everything's alright.

She says, scratching my chin

I blush and look away. I know that the best thing to do is tell her, but I just feel so embarrassed about it.

*sigh*

I uh, I.. have a fetish for hungry and skinny bellies. Whether it's my own, or someone else's, I like it all. That's why I've been acting a bit weird lately, hearing our stomachs growling louder and louder and seeing both your and my body getting thinner this past week has just been such a tease for me. I know that sounds dumb, I just hope you don't think that's too weird..

I say, feeling embarrassed, but relieved that I was finally able to tell her

I..

Her tail was wagging and her cheeks were a bright pink

I have a hunger fetish too~

My ears perk up and I can feel my cheeks getting warm, my tail wagging behind me

R-really?! That's such a relief! Heh, I guess that's another thing we have in common x3

RRRRUUUUMMMBBBBLLLLEEEE

Our stomachs growl in unison, we both look at each other and blush. I can feel that pulsating feeling down below once again.

Juno giggles

I bet that felt good~

Heh, maybe~

I say, teasingly

She walks over to me

You like what you see?~

Don't be shy, you can feel me up if you want~

I blush hard, my tail wagging quickly behind me. I put my paws on her belly, rubbing it all over, I feel her ribs with my fingers, I grab her boobs, I slide my paws down to her hips and feel her hip bones.

F-fuck~

You are so sexy, you know that?~

She covers her face and blushes hard. I move her paws and kiss her on the cheek.

I love you so much Juno~

I love you too Roman~

She says, kissing me on the lips

BBBRRRRRRROOOOOWWWWWWWLLLL

I moan a bit as my stomach catches me off guard

I'm not sure how much more teasing I can take! We might need to take care of this~

I say, gesturing towards my bulge that is now almost max length. Juno looks down and blushes at the sight.

Yes, I think we should~

She says, sliding off my underwear to reveal my throbbing cock

I need something in my belly after all~

She says, before she starts sucking. I was barely able to last a minute from all the tension that was built up. That combined with the fact that she's really good!

Juno, I'm gonna cum~

I-

I let out one last moan before I climax, shooting ropes of cum down her throat as she wastes no time swallowing it all. Of course, this wouldn't be enough to satiate her ravenous stomach, if anything it just made it more angry!

I let out a sigh of relief

Thanks babe, I really needed that~

Of course! Anything for my handsome baby~

GGGGGGRRRRRUUUUUUMMMMBBBBLLLLLEEEE

She let's out a moan and clutches her stomach

Oh my, it certainly doesn't sound like it likes being teased like that~

I say, giggling

Heh, you're probably right! But I needed something to fill this empty stomach of mine, if only for a little while~

Well, should we try to get some sleep for the night? Hopefully someone will find us soon, I'd hate to be stuck here forever.

I say with a wink

Yes, we probably should. I want to be the little spoon this time though!

Okay okay, it's hard to say no to such a pretty girl like you~

We kiss each other goodnight as we drift off to sleep. Another 2 weeks go by. No one has come to rescue us, our ribs are now towering over our stomachs as they've caved in even more. Our underwear won't even stay on anymore from how skinny we've gotten, and our stomachs have just gotten even louder.

GGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLL

I wake up, clutching my starved stomach. I look down and can't even see my stomach anymore, my ribcage is towering over it. I roll over and grab onto Juno.

Ooohh, babe, I'm so hungry~

Mmph, me too, just look at how skinny I've gotten!

She then stands up, showing off her body, trying to put her panties back on, but they just fall right back down. Seeing her like this was so hot! I could feel my cock absolutely throbbing at the sight of her sexy, starved body

H-holy shit hun, you look so hot and sexy right now~

You really think so?~

She asks

Oh absolutely! Seeing you get even skinnier each day is so hot~

I feel the same way~

And that goes for you too, you know~

I stand up and walk over towards her

Well, go ahead, admire my body then, I know you want to~

She feels me up, rubbing my starved stomach, feeling my chest, tracing each of my ribs with her fingers, grabbing my hip bones.

Mmm, my sexy boy~

She says, rubbing my furry chest and stomach

RRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEE

My stomach let's out a roar right underneath her paws, feeling it ripple and growl

That was so hot~

Juno says, starting to play with herself a bit out of excitement

Aww, someone's all pent up~

How about we fix that, hm? At least for the time being~

I say with a seductive smile

I-I'd love that~

She says, lust filling her eyes

I pin her down and start teasing her with my tip before eventually sliding the whole thing in. Listening to our bellies howl from hunger along with the moans of both of us is truly a dream come true, it made every second even more intimate and exciting. I finish inside of her and we get cleaned up as the sun starts to set and the stars start to come out.

Nighttime already, huh?

Juno asks

I guess so! Time sure flies when you're having fun, hm?~

I say, kissing her on the cheek, watching her blush and her tail wag

GGGGGGGRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLL

A loud and fierce growl from our bellies reminds us of how long its been since we've eaten

I really would like some food though. As much fun as I'm having with you out here, I'd still hope that we get found by someone eventually.

I say, rubbing my stomach

All we can do is hope babe, we just have to keep believing

Juno says, rubbing my back

I love you~

She says

I love you too hun~

I say, kissing her as we fall asleep

Another 5 weeks pass. It's been 2 whole months without any food. Our bellies have shrunk even more, our ribs and hip bones are even more prominent now, you can almost see our spines from the front. We're basically just fur and bones at this point.

GGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

I clutch my starved pit of a stomach. What little of it is left anyway. I roll over towards Juno, barely able to move.

Babe, I-I'm starving~

M-Me too.. I don't know how much longer I can last here~

I've been hard and she's been wet pretty much the entire time due to how hungry and starved we both are. It was only a matter of time before things got intimate again.

Well, we might as well have sex one least time here since it'll probably be our last. Gotta go out with a bang, right?~

I suggest

I like the way you think! If we can't satiate one hunger, we might as well satiate the other one~

She says, giggling

We waste no time getting down to business, the sounds of our stomachs absolutely roaring from being starved for so long, the beautiful moans coming from both me and her, it was truly amazing. Right before we climaxed, our stomachs let out one more loud growl.

GGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEE

With that final growl, I came inside of her, it was the most intense orgasm I've ever had, and it certainly seemed like it for her too. I had to lay down for a few minutes to finally come back to reality and catch my breath. We rinse off in the ocean before something catches my eye.

Wait, is that.. a boat?!

I point over to where I'm looking

I think it is! We might actually be able to get off of this island! And it looks like it's coming right towards us!

Juno says with excitement

It was indeed a rescue boat. We grabbed our clothes and hopped on. We explained what happened to the person driving it on our way back to land. I'll admit, I was a little sad that our fun little starvation adventure was brought to an end, but we can always plan something like that out again in the future! We got back to land and found a little restaurant where we finally had our first warm meal in 2 months. It was so good! I'd say the trip was enjoyable, even if it didn't go as planned x3

[eqt-95]

i am sorry it is monday i am going to be mean 🖤 supercorp

Thanks for the ask! I won't even make a big deal about you and @sssammich poking me for the same heart-wrenching prompt, but I will be using 'artistic licensing' and the skill of 'splitting hairs' to get this one across the line.

for context, this is part of an AU i've written random bits for, so you're about to be thrown right into it.

- - - - -

“Hey Kara?” Lena asked from the bar cart.

“Yes?”

“What would it be?” she continued, walking to the couch. “If you were human. What's the thing you'd want to experience?”

“Food.”

The answer comes so automatically that it almost draws Lena into a laugh. Instead she leans back into her couch, swirls the lowball of peaty scotch, and closes her eyes, imagining for the hundredth time a face that didn’t exist.

“Anything specific?”

A moment passed. The voice hummed in thought; another diversion from Lena’s code.

“Does a buffet count?”

“Some might call that cheating,” Lena smiled. “Lex would call it a loophole.”

“What do you call it?”

Lena opened her eyes; glanced at the ceiling as though Kara’s voice was coming from the stars. Instead it was just the usual speaker floating overhead.

“I think it fails to grapple with the spirit of the question.”

The room, white and bright and sterile, felt like a still-life painting with the white noise that followed. Lena wondered if she’d scared the AI off when-

“Potstickers.”

“Potstickers?” Lena parroted, unable to contain a laugh. She set her glass down to analyze the AI’s activity on her tablet.

It made some sense: every cuisine had its own form of food-wrapped dish from dumplings to pierogies to empanadas to arancini, and it was only natural for the AI to find a common link and answer based on that, but when Lena scanned the code for evidence the AI was responding to that thread, none existed. 

“What calculation brought you to that?” she asked. She continued to scowl at the cloud of connections that weren’t remotely linked.

“Because they’re pillowy morsels of goodness with a contrasting soft texture and a crunchy bottom side. The plume of steam when bitten into is just perfection,” Kara said, fading into what Lena heard as a sigh. It only made her brow furrow deeper.

She’d ask Sam tomorrow. In the mean time:

“Can we order some?”

“Pardon?”

“Potstickers.”

“I… it’s late. Maybe another time.”

“Of course, Ms. Luthor. My apologies,” Kara replied.

“It’s Lena, Kara.”

“My operating system-”

“Won’t allow it, I know,” Lena huffed. 

“Precisely.” 

Only a second passed before: “It is getting late, and your sleeping patterns have shown symptoms of insomnia. Might I suggest saving the rest of your 25 year Caol Ila for another time?”

The shift from casual to formal was instantaneous. Lena swallowed, reminded of the algorithm; of the hardwiring and artificiality of the entire experiment.

The reminder carried Lena to bed as Kara went through her evening protocol: locks, lights, and temperature adjustments. Silence followed their routine; a contrast to their last few nights. It shouldn’t have bothered Lena as much as it did. When she’d finally settled in and Kara flicked off the sidelight, Lena had fallen into a familiar state of loneliness. She determined it was irrational and rolled on her side.

“Goodnight, Kara,” she called as she always did. She waited, listening for the familiar return that never came. With a pang that felt far too similar to heartache, she closed her eyes. A beat of more silence then-

“Can I change my answer?”

It burst through the apartment and nearly sent Lena catapulting from her bed. “What?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to - oh gosh, and it’s late and I’m not supposed to-”

“No, no, that's ok,” Lena replied hastily. She pretended her heart wasn’t racing and stomach wasn’t in her throat - all things Kara was surely logging. “Just scared me a bit.”

“I can tell, Ms. Luthor.”

“Right.” She couldn’t hide it if she tried, so Lena simply rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling; 

“What would you change it to?”

“Touch.”

“Touch,” Lena parroted again, softer this time, letting the idea sink in. “Anything specific?” she asked, feeling a sense of deja vu hang over her. She half expected Kara’s answer to repeat, but instead-

“Warmth. Something living.”

“Like a dog?” Lena offered, her voice raspy and mouth far too dry.

“While that would definitely rank in the top five, I’d much rather feel the warmth of a human. A companion, as they call it.”

“I see,” Lena breathed out. “You would want to experience a partner; a boyfriend perhaps-”

“Or girlfriend,” Kara replied simply, and Lena gripped tighter at the duvet she wasn’t aware of strangling. “As something that can’t, touch feels like the most intimate of functions. A hug, a handhold, a kiss.”

“A kiss?”

“Yes, Ms. Luthor.”

“I see,” Lena replied, because anything more might have broken her chest open.

“Good night, Ms. Luthor.”

“Good night, Kara.”

Lena knew better than to crave a thing that couldn’t be. She knew better than to feel an attachment for a machine. She knew better than to dwell in the fantasy of a real Kara Z walking the streets of National City, of living a life where potstickers and hugs were her happiest experiences, or of being someone who could ever want intimacy with someone like Lena.

She knew better, yes, but that didn’t stop her from imagining as a lone tear fell in the privacy of darkness.

- - - -

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