#will he ever do something that is not fantasy football ever again who knows

[jamesrodayrodriguezpresents]

Lindsay Rhodes and Michael Fabiano put together one last First Round Mock Draft before Thursday's Main Event with a group of exciting guests. They're joined by WWE Superstar Seth Rollins, Actor James Roday Rodriguez (Psych & A Million Little Things), and Former TE Gary Barnidge who all pitched in to fill out the picks for the 32 slots. Safe to say it's not your average mock draft and there absolutely, positively were some trades.

[soullessdianthus]

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝!𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠

A/N: I picture him in his early 40s in this, daddy is a state of a mind, no? Can you imagine having such an older man as König taking care of you? UNDER THE SAME ROOF??? I WOULD UGH-- (´ཀ`」 )

Also, my requests are open again! You can send it here!

Warnings: manipulation, slight yandere?, naive!reader, dear jesus bunch of nasty smut (voyeurism, somnophilia, fingering, spanking, daddy kink)

Poorly translated German, correct me if needed!

RENDER BY DWISESZ ON TWITTER

✧°.  König’s schedule throughout the months was irregular. Sometimes he would stay at home for a few weeks and then go on a three month deployment. Another couple of days at home and another “work trip”.

✧°.  And his home was left behind unattended, food in the freezer going to waste, dust covering his favorite armchair. König had a guest bedroom, so why wouldn’t he rent the spare room to someone, who would keep an eye on the house while he’s gone?

✧°.  The price and location was tempting, so you reached out to the landlord for more details – you were a college student, who wanted something more independent than living with her parents. 

✧°.  König took a quick look at your profile picture and accepted the deal, because girls like you shouldn’t cause any problems, right? No parties, no boys invited over. You seemed to be a well behaving girl.  

✧°.  But his struggles only truly started when you finally moved in. König would find the return to the house more thrilling than ever.

✧°.  To show your gratitude to the man who took you in, you kept the house clean with no sign of dust or webs. On a regular basis you were baking cakes or cookies, so the aroma of the pastry filled the rooms. Little did you know that it only fed the housewife fantasy of your landlord.

✧°.  König would take less hours at his work and preferred to fill the reports (or any other documentation) from the home office. Just so he could observe you shuffling through the house wearing those sweat or biking shorts. Skimpy material rolling up the curve of your plump, young ass.

✧°.  Each time you passed the living room where he was working, you sent him a cute smile. You were just trying to be polite!

✧°.  König would try to spend as much time with you as possible, even if that meant you weren’t able to finish your homework on time. :( You would watch some movies together or go grocery shopping. Quickly this thing between the two of you became more than just landlord and tenant dynamics. Although you were quite clueless, it was your first ever rental!

✧°.  One evening, when you came back from late classes, you saw him sitting on a couch holding a glass of beer. Large thighs spreaded open as he kept watching the football game on the TV. And before you knew it, König pulled you onto his lap. He wanted you to watch the game with him!

✧°.  “Sit nice and pretty here, ja?” 

✧°.  He pulled you so roughly against him, that you had to prop against his muscular chest, before your face was pushed into it.

✧°.  “König, but I have to –”

✧°.  “Sush, none of that. Now, show some gratitude to your host, schatzi.”

✧°.  König certainly had more than one beer that evening, but you had none of the alcoholic beverages. You were highly aware when he started rubbing your hip and thigh and found it… really nice. Although, nothing more! It was just a friendly gesture, right? 

✧°.  You were so oblivious to his attraction towards you that his hardened length underneath your ass was a pair of keys in your naive mind. 

✧°.  Later that night, when you fell asleep in your bed (technically his), wearing only a shirt and panties, he came into your bedroom and jerked himself off right by your bedside. 

✧°.  König could only imagine how your pretty lips would wrap around his fat shaft, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. And do you know what fueled that imagination? You sucking on a cherry lollipop right in front of him earlier that day.

✧°.  During the next week, he kept peeping at you when taking a shower or changing your clothes with the doors kept ajar. How silly of you, standing just in sight of such a perverted man as König.

✧°.  It would only fuel his fantasies, when he continuously pumped his hips into his own palm covered in precum and his spit. König’s cock would twitch each time, when he imagined how divine it would finally feel to fuck your tight pussy sensless. His special, little guest. 

✧°.  König would welcome you with open arms, when you came back from the university one day, crying, because you didn’t pass one of your classes. But you were working so hard and you felt poorly about yourself now! :( 

✧°.  He would offer you to lay on a couch with him until you calmed down and you accepted, because König was such a good landlord!

✧°.  You didn’t even protest when this innocent act of affection turned into dirty desires. He laid beside you, one hand stroking your wet cheek and the other wandering under your panties. 

✧°.  You gasped loudly, when he slid one finger inside of you, explaining to you it will help you relax. It shouldn’t, but it felt so good! You wanted to press your eyes together in shame, but König patted you cheek with his hand.

✧°.  “Hey, hey, look at me, schätzchen. Yeah, that’s right, you feeling better now, yes?”

✧°.  And you nodded your head, thoughts focused on that pleasurable feeling between your legs, when he added a second finger. 

✧°.  König wouldn’t talk much about what you two did on the couch, but he definitely became more open about his desires. Since you allowed him to fuck you with his fingers, König would place his big hands all over his precious roommate – shoulders, hips, thighs or a playful slap on the ass, when you were removing the cookies from the oven. 

✧°.  One night, you came back really late (definitely after the curfew) and really drunk. He had to help you walk to your bedroom, because you were stumbling all the time, you could have hurt yourself in that state!

✧°.  You mumbled that you wanted to sleep, when König removed your clothes gently (only leaving you in your lacey, pink panties). He couldn’t believe how lucky he got, when you clung to his chest, searching for stability (in his eyes it was a reach for his attention).

✧°.  König helped you get into your cozy bed and slipped under the covers beside you. This time, he didn’t need to do much as your drunken form quickly found the way to his bulky chest. You nuzzled your spinning head onto his warm body and dozed asleep. 

✧°.  König had to take a few deep breaths, when your plump, naked breasts got squeezed between your and his chest. He didn’t want to jerk off right then, perhaps, you might help him, when you wake up?

✧°.  The next time you wanted to go to a club or simply for drinks with your friends, he stood there in the hallway with a strong hand placed onto the doors. König wasn’t letting you anywhere, you were supposed to spend time with him! :( 

✧°.  “I can take care of myself, you know.”

✧°.  “Oh, like the last time? When you pulled me into your bed, schatzi? Naked?”

✧°.  Your extremely tall and large landlord scolded you, twisting slightly the truth about your drunken state. But it was for your own good, why would you seek fun out there, when you had him in the reach of your hand?

✧°.  Despite your age difference, older and more experienced König would definitely take his time with you.

✧°.  “I–I…”

✧°.  You let go, as embarrassment burned like a flame inside, then furiously went back to your room. 

✧°.  Later, König would come to you and offer a bear hug, which you politely accepted, because he was your good host. But still was a bit mad at him for refusing to let you have fun outside the house.

✧°.  Soon enough, when he went for another deployment, you split on unclear terms. The colonel noticed you began acting bratty, disrespecting his house rules. But nonetheless left the home in your hands.

✧°.  When he came back, unexpectedly a few days earlier, you were still at university. You were such a smart girl. <3

✧°.  König couldn’t help himself but to rummage through your stuff. He sniffed your currently worn pajamas, looked at your books and then he opened the drawer with your underwear. To his surprise one specific object caught his attention. Could this be…?

✧°.  You were surprised to see his massive, trekking shoes on the shelf, when you returned home that evening. You were even more surprised, when you noticed your landlord sitting in his armchair, playing with something between his thick fingers. 

✧°.  “My, my… I leave for a few weeks and you already behave so… shamelessly. I thought of you better, schätzchen.”

✧°.  “I–I don’t know, what your talking about, I–”

✧°.  OhmyGod

✧°.  He was holding your bullet vibrator that was so small in his grasp!

✧°.  “You didn’t even bother to hide this thing.” 

✧°.  He lied on purpose, but you played along that lie. Perhaps, because you were so embarrassed that he found your toy! How could you be so silly and leave it on display? 

✧°.  You rushed to take it out of his grasp, but he acted quicker than you. König pulled you into his wide lap, forcing you ass in the air. The hem of your tennis skirt rolled up, exposing your bum to your landlord!

✧°.  “Seriously, a toy, schatzi? Were you really this needy? Maybe that’s why you failed your class, hm?”, he mocked your vulnerability. 

✧°.  Before you could even explain yourself to him, a loud smack echoed in the living room and a stinging pain on your bare ass blinded your thoughts. König continued to spank your plump bum until it turned red and you were sobbing incoherently. 

✧°.  He said disappointedly, “And I thought you were a grateful guest… All I did was for your good, you know that?”

✧°.  He rubbed your irritated flesh for a minute, before continuing the punishment. König licked his lips, already knowing how you would show him how much you missed your caring landlord. 

✧°.  “Are you going to be a good girl for me, ja?”

✧°.  “YES! Yes, I will! ‘m sorry!” 

✧°.  You agreed, face flustered in shame, when you felt how wet your panties had become. The Austrian bear lifted you up from his lap and made you straddle his large bulge, pressing onto the fabric of his cargo pants. 

✧°.  “Ride daddy nicely and I might forgive you, okay? Do you remeber what I told you, when you moved in? If you ever need anything, come to me. You’re a smart girl, you know I’m gonna take care of you, no?”

✧°.  “Y-Yes, König. I know.”, you sobbed, his big palm wiping your tears away. 

✧°.  Quickly you forgot about all of his alarming and obsessive behavior, when he filled you with his fat cock. The delicious feeling of him stretching your little pussy, dwarfed all of your worries.

✧°.  He was merciless that night, König didn’t even give you time to adjust to his size. Colonel’s strong hands gripped your hips and guided them to start moving. So you swayed your hips under that slutty skirt, you bought just for him. <3

[tnt-kokoo]

Best friend

Alexis Ness × fem!reader

summary: After befriending Ness even after getting warned that he was 'weird', he started to develop feelings and a slight obsession.

warnings: a little stalking, obsession, bullying, MANGA SPOILER (kinda but still), No kaiser in this

"Leave him alone?!" A small spoke as the German boy got bullied by his classmates again. The voice belonged to the new girl in school, you. You were around 6 and yet so brave.

Ness looked up and saw you walking towards the little group that formed around the poor boy. He was amazed by how fearless you were. While you were arguing to the bullys his eyes couldn't help but widen as they finally decided to leave Ness alone to avoid having to argue further.

The boy was looking at you like you were his hero, what you clearly were. He really wanted to repay your kindness to help him. So that's why, after all these years after you saved him, he stood by your side.

Ness liked to look back at the day you two met. He thought of it as some sort of fate. And you saving him bonded your twos souls together, so how could he ever leave you after that? It's not like he ever thought of leaving either. He enjoyed his life to the fullest with you. You were always there to listen to his problems about his strict family and how he should stop liking all that 'childish fantasy stuff'. He was alwady there for you, as you were for him and nothing could change that and even when the two of you parted, Ness somehow managed to convince (threatened) people to either change with him to partner with you, or just simply went to you before anyone else could.

He was always with you.

Growing up you came to see how much football means for Ness and that it's something that his family can't take away from him. You couldn't help but feel sad when he was doubting himself, but after you looked into his eyes and told him that you'd be his number one fan he was over the moon and felt his heart beat faster (something he only ever experienced with you).

Today was the day where his school football team went against another school. You could feel how anxious Ness got. He didn't wanted to disappoint his team, school and especially not you. So when the students were all seated down and the players got changed into their school match uniform, you went down to where your best friend hid.

Putting a hand on top of his shoulder pulled the purple eyed boy out of his self doubt as he looked up into your warm eyes. He could feel himself fall for you every time he looked into your eyes whole you gave him that smile that said 'don't worry, I will be here'. Oh man, he loved you.

With new motivation he stood up and walked towards the field.

____________________________________________

After the game, Ness couldn't wait to talk to you again, maybe you woudk hug him, maybe even kiss. He was so sure you were proud of him. After all, all the goals he made were only for you.

You must know that, right?

Ofcourse he couldn't go back to his beloved still smelling like sweat so he choose to take a quick shower.

After getting out of the shower, he practically ran to find you like a dog searching its owner and when he did find you, he saw a player from the other school trying to flirt with you.

'Who does he think he is??'

Walking closer he started to hear him talk to you.

"....honestly think you deserve better." The guy said smirking when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around he saw the German boy and his smirk grew, "Just who I was talking about. Why would you willingly stay with that lose-" Ness pushed him away and he stumbled. Your old friend held your hand and pulled you with him away from that guy. He really wanted to hurt him but he couldn't...not with you here atleast. He would never want to ruin your view on him. He wanted to stay forever your favorite and only boyfriend bestfriend.

"Are you okay, y/n?? He didn't do anything right?? RIGHT??" He looked like he would lose it in just seconds if you wouldn't answer him.

"Don't worry Alexis, nothing happened." You calmed him down by putting both of your hands on his shoulder and pulled him closer to embrace him. "You did so well I the game by the way." You smiled at him as he could feel his heart explode. His head fell on your own shoulder as he could smell your perfume that he just so loved.

____________________________________________

Hours later when the sun went down and the moon took over the sky, Ness was still outside walking... and following.

He wouldn't have done this if the guy earlier wasn't so stupid to try something with you. He knew that Ness liked you so why even try.

Following behind the player, he got slowly closer and closer to him as he finally was close enough to pull him into an ally and hold him up against a wall. "Leave Y/n alone." The guy finally nodded at Ness as a way to show that he understood.

With the threat and the slight choking the player, Ness walked away and made his way to a house he knew all too well. Yours.

____________________________________________

ᯓᝰ Okokk that's the chapter

-I will also update the chigiri file a bit later, I I thinking about tmmr (Hopefully) 😭 also, I had my communication exam in French today and got a 2 lol

[mistress-violence]

Prompt: New from @into-the-jeggyverse (August 23)

Word count: 392 words

Pairing: Jegulus (high school modern AU)

⚠️ Warnings: none

Regulus was too conscious to let people see his little quirks. Not even his best friends knew about his utter dislike for vegetables that are bigger than his little finger, his annoyance when he gets more than one pump of vanilla in his matcha latte and his attraction towards bookmarks with famous paintings.

Listening to a song or an album for an entire week on repeat is one of Regulus' best kept secrets. It's not because he thinks it's weird, a lot of people do this on a daily basis. He just didn't want for anyone to know how much he is affected by the music. Music makes him vulnerable and emotional. So, for the sake of his stoic reputation, he hid this part of himself most of his life.

When he found himself home alone, with his parents gone on a work trip and with his brother out of town doing something stupid (probably), Regulus decided to get a little loose.

For James it was a normal day. He had football practice in the morning, then met his friends in a café for lunch. When Sirius proposed to go to his house to play some games on PS4, James expected a lazy afternoon with soda and junk food and Sirius yelling at Remus for not helping him enough in the battle. What he didn't expect was to see the one and only Regulus Black dancing to Prince in his way to the bathroom.

Regulus, unaware of his surroundings, was feeling the beat, moving his hips to the rhythm of the song, just in his underwear, his oversized "My Chemical Romance" T-shirt and his sunglasses. After a dramatic and elegant spin, his eyes connected with the figure of James fucking Potter, standing in his doorway like he's in his own home. Regulus paralyzed for a few long seconds, before moving towards James with sonic speed and slamming the door in front of him, cursing the gods out of his brother's best friend.

This particular event opened a new fantasy for James, who could never get the image of Regulus' hips out of his mind. On the other side of the door, Regulus was on the phone with his mother, begging her to move him to a new high school. Under no circumstances could he ever make eye contact with James Potter again.

[onceonafullmoon]

Convos With Rin

Rin x Gn! Reader

No warnings! Just pure fluff, also you can ignore the last 2 lines if you want to read this as platonic!

Aka: maladaptive daydreams by yours truly that I cleaned up and formatted. Part 2 here

“Sometimes I wonder if the idealized, romanticized version of relationships I’ve built up in my head are subconsciously affecting my navigation in reality.”

“What?” Rin asks, rolling over from where he lies on his bed to look at you, his teal eyes switching from his phone to glance over at you.

“Sorry, that was word vomit.” You say waving a hand dismissively before speaking again. “It’s just… I mean that I wonder if my expectations of romantic relationships have been distorted because of all the media I consume. And I wonder if that would ruin any chance I have of a healthy relationship.”

You absentmindedly start fiddling with your fingers as you speak.

“Like, for example dating sims, every love interest is over possessive and jealous, and that’s fine, cause it’s a fantasy. And obviously it’s not endorsed in real life, because if you date someone who foams at the mouth every time you look at another man, you’ll have issues. But… sometimes I wonder if I’ll think back to those dumb games when I’m in a relationship and choose something unhealthy for myself.”

A comfortable silence lapses after your ramblings and you wait patiently for your best friend's response.

“…you sure do think a lot more than I expected.” He says after a while and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Wow thanks.” You drone out. “You know what? I’d rather you have just flipped me off and called me a dumbass than whatever attempt of a compliment that was.”

“Didn’t mean it like that, I meant that I’d never once thought about that.” He says cooly, in a way that makes you unfairly jealous of his demeanor.

“Yeah? Well, I’m not surprised. Your brain is composed of 50% football and the other half is basic motor skills. I doubt you’ve even thought of anything outside of that.”

“…not true.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Somewhere, squeezed between the cracks of those key areas, is your vast knowledge of horror trivia.” You joke, your eyes darting over his sprawled form.

“…” He hesitates to respond before muttering out. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What’d you mean then?”

“…nothing, never mind.”

“Oh boo, you whore.” You scoff, sitting up in his desk chair to devote your attention to him. “Come on tell meeee! I tell you everything… well, almost everything but��� nonetheless…”

He glares but you simply smile at him before waiting eagerly for him to finally loosen his tongue and spill whatever he has locked away from you.

And maybe deep down he knows that there’s no winning against you because he ends up opening his mouth to speak.

“I…I think about romance sometimes.” He eventually admits, his eyes darting back to his phone in embarrassment.

“Oho?” You straighten up further, a goading grin on your face much to his annoyance. “Our little Rinrin is growing up!”

“Fuck you, this is why I don’t tell you shit.”

“Aww come on, I won’t tease you anymore I promise! Please tell me more!” You practically beg, looking at him with prying eyes.

“This is lame.” Rin scoffs.

“You’re lame! Romance is perfectly natural. Anyways, is this a crush? A passing fantasy?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“I live vicariously through my friends’ love lives, now spillll!” You say, dragging out the last syllable deliberately to piss him off.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?” You say a pout on your lips.

“Because you’re annoying and you’re only asking to make fun of me.”

“What? Me?” You gasp out in faux surprise. “Never, could I ever make fun of you, after all you’re my dearest most important–”

“Save it.” He cuts you off, content to ignore you now, engrossed in his phone.

“Kill joy… I’ll get it out of you one of these days.” You say darkly before leaning back to sulk in his chair.

“Over my dead body.” He mutters, but if you looked over to him again, you’d see the tell tale way his gaze fell back to you.

Unfortunately for you, Rin’s crush would stay a secret for just a little while longer.

[moorishflower]

Dirty Talk (Dreamling, Explicit)

This is because of @landwriter making me realize I don't have much practice writing dirty talk. This is still pretty tame in that regard.

"I don't think you're even capable of talking dirty," is what Hob says, one fine winter evening, comfortable and a bit comfortably tipsy, sat at his regular table in the New Inn with Dream of the Endless sat across from him, and he knows by the way Dream rears back like a cat whose nose has been flicked that he's made a mistake in saying it. It's only been a few months since Dream has come back into his life, since he's gifted Hob with information and explanations and finally, in the trenches of autumn as the leaves had crumpled from the trees in red and gold splendor, the rare sight of his smile and a trembling lower lip, and a soft, My friend, but in those few months Hob's come to the realization that he would do anything, literally anything and everything, to hold Dream's friendship. To make him feel safe. To keep him here.

And maybe mocking his friend's mode of speaking isn't the right way to go about it but, again, he's just pissed enough for it to not seem like a big deal, and Dream doesn't seem upset so much as he seems offended. Mates give each other shit all the time, Hob reassures himself, and it's not like they were talking about something life-changing. Dream had only been complaining about his sibling interfering with his realm, which has apparently caused some sort of imbalance in the Dreaming, and from there had followed a great lot of metaphysical and esoteric explanations that boiled down to 'wet dreams are on the rise' (pun intended). It explains why he's had so many in the past week. It doesn't explain why so many of them have featured dark hair and skin like cloaked starlight and eyes bluer than the Aegean Sea, but that's his albatross to bear, not Dream's.

And then Dream had said something along the lines of how sex dreams had used to have poetry to them, there'd been an intimate back and forth, not just of bodies but of words, a build-up and a climax. One thing had led to another, and Hob had said what he said, and he stands by it. Still stands by it, even as Dream's eyes turn flinty and the corner of his mouth turns up into a smirk that would shame the devil.

"I am the Prince of Stories," he murmurs. His voice is a laser that cuts through the raucous din of the New Inn. There's a van's worth of footballers a few tables down, either celebrating or commiserating, it's not clear which, and the entire pub is lousy with the noise. Hob doesn't have to lean forward to hear his friend, so tuned is he to that purring baritone, but he does so anyways. It gets him closer to Dream, who also leans in, like he's about to share a secret. "Do you truly believe me incapable of crafting words titillating enough to bring one to completion?"

"I don't think you've ever said the word 'cunt' in your life," Hob says, doubling down like the idiot he is. He's never claimed to be a wise man, and especially not when he's in his cups. Besides, it's the winter hols, he's got nothing to do tomorrow, and if he ends this night with nightmares that make him piss the bed he'll concede that Dream has won this round.

"You would be incorrect."

Hob can't imagine Dream ever speaking in a way that's less than dignified. There's such power to him, all the time, such staid and solemn surety, and there's no room in that sort of denseness for telling your partner how much you'd like to suck their brains out of their prick. More's the pity, because he thinks if he could imagine it, the shape of his stranger's lips around the word 'cock' would surely be a fine feature to add to his repertoire of fantasies.

It's at this point that Hob makes the stupidest decision he's made all night.

"Prove it," he says, and takes a sip of his drink, secure in the knowledge that six centuries of swiving has rendered him immune to embarrassment, even in such a public setting. There is a long pause during which the only sound is the ambient riot of the Inn around them, the clink of glasses and the cheering -- or bemoaning? -- of the footballers, the nearly-incomprehensible drone of the sound system piping Top 40s Modern Rock into the kitchen behind the bar, Marv the bartender swearing as he uncorks a bottle of champagne for a mixer.

Then Hob feels something brush against his foot beneath the table, and the rest of the pub goes silent.

Or rather, not silent, but…muffled. Like someone's draped a great blanket over the both of them, and now it's just him and Dream, as it's always been, as it always will be, facing each other across a worn, wooden table, as much of the original wood as Hob had been able to salvage. He's worked it into the foundations, into the bartop and the tables and the floor, trying to preserve the stories he'd told for his stranger, the history, like it was ale that had soaked into the floorboards. Dream's eyes are focused on him, impossibly blue, and he feels another soft touch, this time higher up his leg. Like a foot stroking up his calf, except no game of footsie has ever left him feeling this breathless before, this yearning.

"Would you have me prove it to you with words of prose, Hob Gadling?" Dream's voice is a thing with texture. It'd be prosaic to compare it to such human stuff as velvet or fox fur, but Hob's limited in his petty human understanding, and to his ears it's plush and warm and welcoming. It's a voice to bury your face into, a voice that drips down the skin like warm honey or candlewax, with just enough bite to be interesting. "Would you have me woo you with poetry? Shall I compare thee, not to a summer's day, but to the wild bounty of the fields? More comely than all of autumn's fruits and grains, thy hair rich as the loam and the fertile earth?"

Fertile is an unfair word for him to use, Hob thinks. His brain's scattered out his ears in an attempt to try and hear better, but he doesn't have a choice, because if he wants to not hear he's going to have to get up and leave. And not listening to this just…isn't an option. Not with how Dream is looking at him, head cocked like a bird and his mouth red as garnets shaping around words, words, words.

"Shall I opine about the shape of your body? How broad and virile your chest? I have seen you at sport, Hob, and I know what you hide beneath sweaters and cardigans. I have seen the daydreams of those who lust after you. They imagine you coming in from your war games, stripping the shirt from your back and drinking the sweat from your body. They imagine what it would be like to sink to their knees and bury their mouths into your most intimate places. Worshiping you with hand and tongue. Would you have me describe these fantasies, Hob?"

Oh, please, he thinks, and wonders if it must show on his face, how dry his mouth's become, how tight his trousers are now, because Dream's little smirk grows wider. His pupils are blown so large they nearly eclipse his irises, and there's only a thin ring of startling blue outlining a sea of infinite void.

"Or would you prefer it in cruder terms?" The light pressure that's been dragging up and down his leg inches higher; it feels like fingers kneading into the soft insides of his thighs, and Hob's legs fall open to give the phantom hands better access. The Inn looks and sounds like it's moving in slow motion, but maybe that's just because he can't look away from Dream.

"Would you like me to describe how beautiful your cock is?" Dream asks, and he says it with the disaffected expression of someone asking about the weather and the deep and growling voice of a jungle cat, and Hob is fairly certain he makes a noise of his own, something undignified and stifled by how quickly he bites his lip. "How the weight of it would fit perfectly in my hand? You are made for pleasure, Hob. Thick. Heavy. Better still, to hold the shape of you in my mouth."

"Oh, fuck," Hob says. He's barely aware that he says it, but Dream's eyes light up with fiendish inner fire. There's no blue anymore. It's just black, and stars, and Hob drifting in them like a rogue comet, burning up.

"Yes. I could describe how you would fuck me. How you would turn me inside out. I would want to ride you first, to see the shape of you inside me. I would want you to fill me with your spend until I could taste it in my throat, and then, when I had found my pleasure, I would want you to bear me down into the bed. I would want you to break me in half, Hob Gadling, because I will accept no less than the most ardent lover, and if I do not finish the night with your cum leaking down my thighs and my arsehole gaping for you, I will not be satisfied."

The ghost-touch that's been drifting higher and higher along his thighs presses firmly against his groin, and Hob makes a strangled, gasping little noise, swallowed up by the thick syrupy slowness of the Inn, and comes in his pants. It's an orgasm so sharp and sweet and high that it feels like the prolonged note of a flute, and leaves his thighs quivering in the aftermath, and his breath coming in heady little rasps. He hadn't even been aware he was that keyed up, but then, he hadn't been aware of anything but Dream, and Dream's voice, and now how Dream is staring at him across the way, eyes glittering like a thousand diamonds set in velvet. Hob watches as he slowly lifts his hand from beneath the table, spreading his fingers. They're covered in cum, little beads and drips of it sliding down to the second knuckle, and Dream holds his gaze like a fist around Hob's heart as he raises his hand to his mouth and begins licking his fingers clean.

There's another noise, an uncomfortable whimper, that Hob doesn't want to think is him but probably is.

"Have I sufficiently proven myself?" Dream asks, popping his fingers free of his mouth with the most obscene, wet sound that Hob has ever heard. He imagines those fingers spearing into him and making that same sound from all the lube dripping out of his arse, and Dream's nostrils flare.

"Dunno," Hob manages to say, when he finally finds his voice. It's a thready, needy voice, but it is there. "Could use some more convincing. Don't suppose…you fancy coming upstairs to continue this conversation?"

There's a gentle stroke along the inside of his thigh, making his poor, spent cock twitch, and Dream smiles at him. "Yes. I believe there is more I could tell you, Hob Gadling."

And there is. A lot more. That night, and into the morning, and the next, and the next. Hob needs a lot of convincing.

He's grateful Dream seems up to the challenge.

[majaloveschris]

Today has been hell. I have decided to kind of answer a lot of asks in one post.

Why would the co-stars be there if not because of the wedding?

There could be several other reasons for this.

RDJ is shooting in Boston, so Renner is a big football fan (we all saw them in a football match with Evans), and Hemsworth could be there because of the Tom Brady thing too. It is a big deal in the states, and maybe Chris will have an after party, or this was a really great opportunity to reunite and to get some attention since neither of them are allowed to promote their stuff.

But Hemsworth doesn't even like football.

And how do you know that? Has he ever said that? And even if this were the case, maybe he just wanted to hang out with his friends, and this was a great opportunity to get together. Maybe Hemsworth started liking football after spending a lot of time in America. Maybe he had some work to do there. Nobody has ever said that he only flew from Australia to the States because of the whole Tom Brady thing. It's not like it would be too far-fetched to say that he flew in because of his friends. He is rich, so he has no problem spending money on a plane ticket. Or on a private plane. Hemsworth was also part of the AGBO fantasy football team, just like all the Avengers. Could be another reason for them being there.

That's Hemsworth's wife, not his mom.

That's not his wife. This is his wife.

And if you take a look at that woman who was there with them in the restaurant, you can see that the hair color immediately doesn't match. But by just taking a look at this picture, you can see that the woman with them looks nothing like Elsa.

Hemsworth and Renner told those girls that they were there because of Chris's wedding.

I find this really unbelievable. Do we really think that they would spill the tea on random people? There is no way they don't know about the backlash their relationship has been getting, and if they are getting married, they clearly want to keep it secret, so there is no way his friends would spill anything, especially to random strangers.

Chris's friend posted a picture on Instagram of him and his friend in a car wearing something fancy.

He posted that picture when it was like 9 a.m. in Boston, so as one of my friends said, they might've gone to church.

There are also a few people that are missing who I think would be there, like Mackie, who is in New Orleans for a football game, and Alba's cousin, who is in Peru with her family. I don't think either of them would miss their wedding.

I've said it once and twice, and I'll say it once again: the only reason all of these are suspicious is because of that one girl, that random online person, saying that the wedding will take place this weekend. I'd also like to add those people who love to stir up shite online and spread misinformation because they love creating drama.

It's also really interesting that this is happening once again after something unrelated to Alba happened to Evans.

Maybe I'm wrong; maybe they are getting married. I don't know, but nobody else does. There is just as much evidence of them getting married as there is of them not: zero.

This is only my opinion.

[lucy90712]

Home- Jude Bellingham

WC: 2.8k (this is a longer one)

For most home is the place they go back to every night where they feel safe but for me it is something that has evolved as I've gotten older. When I was young I always thought of home as the house I lived in with my parents but then I grew up slightly and we moved house a few times and I realised that the building I was in didn't matter it was being with my parents so they became my sense of security. Now everything has changed again as I have well and truly moved away from home and to another country and where I feel safe is with my best friend he's the one that provides me with that feeling of being home and being secure.

I met Jude when I was about 5 as my family moved down the same road as his and we have been friends ever since. As kids we always used to play with each other whenever we saw each other at the park or when our parents spent time together. Naturally there was a period of time where we drifted apart and didn't really talk at all as we found other friends but in our later teen years we became so much closer again as he was there to support me through a tough time in my life. When Jude moved away to go and play football I was so incredibly proud of him but I missed him so much when he was away but we talked pretty much every day and whenever he came back home we spent loads of time together.

After spending a year and a bit separated from each other it was time for me to to go university and although I had offers from unis across the country I also applied to a few in other countries that had a good course for that I want to do and I happened to get an offer with a full scholarship to somewhere in Germany. It was like it was meant to be as the uni was in the city that Jude lives in as well so I accepted the place right away. When I moved out there I stayed with Jude for a few days until I was able to move into my apartment and from those few days onwards we have been truly inseparable. We have seen each other nearly everyday since with the exception of days when Jude had to travel to other countries for games which meant spending a lot of time together but we both loved that as we are the definition of best friends.

Recently my friends have been trying to convince me that Jude and I would be a great couple but I always tell them we are just great friends and nothing more but that doesn't stop them talking about it when they think I can't hear. They are always pointing out how much time we spend together and how we supposedly look at each other, I've even heard them call the two of us endgame despite me having a boyfriend. It's not just my friends either I've heard Jude's teammates saying that the two of us would be the perfect couple and making bets on when we will get together, not if when. Whenever anyone talks about Jude and I being a good couple I always shut it down immediately because I don't like to think about it as whenever I do I end up in a dream world where we aren't just friends.

Truthfully I have had feelings for Jude for a few years now it I fight to keep them away because I just can't lose him. There are many nights that I lay awake fantasying about what life would be like if Jude and I were dating but then I remember just how important he is to me and I know I can never say anything. Jude is everything to me he's the one I go to when I'm feeling down and he's the one I celebrate with first when something exciting happens without him I'd be a mess and seemingly all alone. There is no way I could risk telling him and having that ruin our friendship which is why I'm choosing to try and get over my feelings without anyone ever knowing. This is exactly why when I met a nice guy who treated me well I ended up dating him as I needed someone else to focus my attention on and for the most part it works pretty well. There are occasions when I think about Jude but for the most part I'm really happy with my boyfriend and I feel like slowly I can move on from Jude and live my own life happily.

My boyfriend and I have been together for about 8 months now which is the longest relationship I've ever been in. Recently it's felt like we are getting a bit more serious too which scared me at first but I've now come to terms with the fact that at some point this was going to happen and I need to let myself let go of my feelings for Jude. As we are now completely comfortable with each other I gave my boyfriend a key to my apartment so that when I have late classes he can let himself in so we can spend time together when I get home which since has become a bit of a routine. Today is one of those days where I was supposed to have a late class but we were able to finish an hour earlier as we had nothing else left to cover. As I was early I decided to get some dinner on my way home for the two of us to eat as I thought that would be a nice surprise along with me finishing earlier.

When I finally got to my apartment the door was unlocked which meant someone was already there as I definitely locked the door this morning. As I went inside it was completely quiet and none of the lights were on despite it starting to get dark outside which made me question if I did actually lock the door. Out of fear I grabbed my phone so I could call the police if necessary but as I did I noticed a text from my boyfriend telling me he was at my apartment which somehow made my anxiety worse. I quickly walked around the living room and kitchen before going to look behind all of the closed doors. First was my office but that was empty then came the bathroom but I didn't need to open that door as when I stood outside I could hear moaning coming from further down the hallway which meant it was coming from my bedroom. I didn't want to assume the worst but I couldn't help it so out of pure rage I stomped down the hallway and flung to door open to reveal possibly the worst sight I've even seen. My boyfriend in my bed with another girl.

I'm not sure what came over me but I yelled at both of them kicking them out of my apartment and ending things with my so called boyfriend straight away. I made sure to get my key back too as quite frankly I never want to see that man again. Once they were gone realisation hit me like a ton of bricks and nothing could be done to stop the tears flooding down my face as I questioned how long this had been going on for and how stupid had I been to not notice something was up. So many thoughts were swirling around my mind as I took the sheets off my bed and threw them in the wash as if I ever want to be able to sleep in that bed again I at least need to wash the sheets but honestly that didn't help. Being in my apartment just made me feel worse as I looked at every counter in the kitchen and bathroom and the sofa wondering if they had been tainted too. It was all too much and I needed to get out of there for a bit and the only place I wanted to go is to Jude's as he always knows what to do.

Despite having tears in my eyes I managed to drive to Jude's as I know the route like the back of my hand by now. When I got to the door I rang the doorbell and then just walked in as at this time Jude would know it could only be me. As I took my shoes off and tried to wipe the tears from my face I heard footsteps getting closer until I heard him say hello which instantly brought be comfort as I know he will be here for me for as long as I need to rant about what just happened. When I looked up at him he saw my face which I imagine is puffy and red with streaks of mascara down it and without saying a word he pulled me into a tight hug where I could let my emotions go. Just like every other time Jude has comforted me when I'm upset he picked me up and walked to the sofa where he sat me in his lap and gently rubbed my back to help calm me down.

"Whenever you're ready you can tell me what's wrong" he said

"He cheated on me" I said

"What?" He questioned

"I finished early and when I got home I couldn't find him even though he said he was there and then I heard moaning coming from my bedroom and there he was fucking some random girl in my bed" I ranted

"What an asshole you deserve so much better than someone who would even think of doing that" he said

"How about you stay here tonight and tomorrow we can go together to get you a new bed as you don't want to be sleeping in your current one" he said

"That sounds good but you don't have to come with me" I said

"Well I'm coming whether you like it or not" he laughed trying to lighten the mood

"Thank you Jude I really appreciate you being here for me" I said

"Of course I'll always be here for you" he said

He wiped the tears off my face before moving me off his lap and running off to the bathroom and he came back with makeup remover which he used to take all of my makeup off. He gently rubbed my face to get all of my makeup off with the cutest concentration face as he had his tongue sticking out slightly and his eyebrows furrowed as he made sure to get all of the makeup off. Once he was done he went off again but this time when he came back he had food with him as he had guessed I hadn't eaten which was true as I'd left my food on the counter at home. We turned on our favourite show which we have watched a million times but I could watch it a million more as it always cheers me up especially when I actually get to watch it with Jude.

For the next few hours Jude was just being so sweet he ordered ice cream for the both of us even though he's not supposed to eat it as he knows I like to drown my sorrows in ice cream. He also made sure I was comfortable and cozy under a blanket as he held me close to him for extra comfort. It was just like the old times before I got together with my boyfriend as we often used to have late nights together spent like this and honestly I've really missed them I've missed having Jude so close to me. As we watched the tv Jude innocently moved his arm from being around my shoulder to around my waist which I didn't mind but it sent my head spinning. For the first time in a few months I felt all my feelings for Jude come flooding back the the forefront of my mind. I'd been doing really well at burying them and moving on but after everything that happened tonight having Jude put his arm around my waist sent me spiralling again.

This whole situation is so overwhelming as I don't think at this point I'll ever truly get over my feelings for Jude but I don't feel like I can tell him. Jude means so much to me that if I told him and he didn't feel the same way I would be a mess and not just because he rejected me but because I'd have lost my best friend. There is also a problem as even if he did feel the same and we ended up dating if things didn't work out I'd still lose him. It's all just so much to think about and even though I've thought about it a million times I have still never come up with a resolution that makes me truly happy. There are times I think about just taking the leap of faith and telling him how I feel but I always talk myself out of it before I can get the words out. For me it's a big decision whether or not I want to possibly ruin a lifelong friendship over some stupid feelings or not which is why I'm often thinking about it.

"What are you thinking about?" Jude asked which brought me out of my spiral

"Oh nothing" I replied

"Come on just tell me you know you can tell me anything" he said

"Not this" I whispered under my breath

"Why can't you tell me this what secrets are you keeping from me?" He asked jokingly

In that split second I had a decision to make I either tell him how I feel and hope for the best or come up with another lie which I have to keep up with. At this point I have so many lies or stories I've told when I've chickened out of telling Jude how I feel that I've had to write them down so I can refer back to them when necessary. I feel like I need to stop being so afraid and just go for it, take a risk and that's exactly what I'm going to do.

"I have feelings for you" I blurted out

"What" he questioned

"I have feelings for you Jude and I have for years and I just can't live without telling you anymore" I said

"I know it's a lot to spring on you and I get if you don't want to be friends anymore I just couldn't keep my feelings hidden any longer" I rambled

"I have feelings for you too" Jude interrupted me

"Wait you do" I said

"Yeah I mean how could I not you're so beautiful and such a kind person I just never thought you would feel the same so I never said anything" he explained

I didn't really know how to respond as I honestly didn't think he'd feel to same so it took me by surprise. Knowing Jude felt the same way gave me a boost in confidence so instead of saying anything I just leant in and kissed him. Despite being friends for years and playing many games of truth or dare Jude and I have never kissed before so this was completely new for us both. It took Jude a second to realise what was happening but when he did he kissed me right back and even put a hand behind my neck to pull me in closer. The kiss was amazing it was even better than I imagined it would be which is truly something as I have thought about this moment a lot. It was as if time came to a stand still as we seemed to be kissing forever but when we finally pulled apart it had only been a few minutes.

We looked into each others eyes once we stopped kissing and Jude gently swept a piece of my hair behind my ear before then leaving his hand on my cheek. I could've stayed like that forever but sadly that can't happen as we both have lives to live and we also need to talk about what we are now as we can't stay just friends after that.

"What are we now?" I asked

"I'd love for you to be my girlfriend but I know you just broke up with your boyfriend so we can go slowly if that's what you want" Jude said

"I'd love to be your girlfriend but promise me that if things don't work out we can still try and be friends" I said

"Of course my love I couldn't bare not having you in my life in some way" he said

"So will you be my girlfriend?" He asked

"Of course I will" I replied

[dramioneasks]

I would like fic recommendations with a healthy amount of smut with substance and romance to beef it up. A short but well written story 12 chapters or less. I find the smaller dramione stories can pack more of a punch for me. Oh and only happy endings please xx

Ps. I like it when Draco has feelings for her stewing beforehand/ it doesn't take long for them to develop because his mental commentaries are heartwarming and tummy fluttering.

This is very specific, please don't specify fic length, because a 12 chapter fic can be over 100ks words too.

I don’t mind if you don’t mind (can you read my mind?) - SultryNuns - E, one-shot - She’s miscalculated, staring at him openly, so she captures the abrupt way in which his head snaps up from his work. As a consequence, they’re now looking at each other, which is awkward, but at least he doesn’t know what she’s been thinking about. And then, Draco, usually still as a graveyard if never as quiet as one, twirls his wand again. And again. Watching her all the while, considering her. Hermione has a good sense for when she’s in danger, or an overwrought system that feels as though she always is, but either way, she slams a barrier around her mind, exerts her own graceless occlumency. He knows. And worse, he’s been driving her insane intentionally. 

The Art of Wooing Hermione Granger: a 12-Month Affair by sad_millennial - M, 14 chapters - At a holiday party for Ministry employees, Granger explains the muggle tradition of setting a New Year’s resolution to Draco. Draco, who has recently discovered that his feelings for her are more than platonic, latches onto the idea. What better time to “buckle down”—as the muggle-borns say—on his efforts than January 1? And so, Draco has decided, in the amount of time it takes her to describe the concept, that his New Year’s resolution will consist of one lofty goal: to woo Hermione Granger. All he has to do is navigate decoy, mid, and quarter year resolutions, join a fantasy (American) football team, train for a sprint triathlon, keep an overbearing Theodore Nott away from Granger, and dodge suspicious looks from overprotective Potters.

Mutual, I’m Sure - LadyUrsa - E, 8 chapters - If Draco Malfoy could have one wish in his life, it would be to not be a Veela. Wait, no. It would be to not have Hermione Granger be his mate. Fuck, at this point he would settle for Hermione Granger just being aware of the painfully obvious fact that she was his mate. But only as long as it resulted in monogamous bliss. And getting a cat. ** Two meddlesome best friends, two idiots who are bad at feelings, and a snow-filled Christmas reunion in Vermont. The only thing this White Christmas is missing are some musical numbers.

To Woo a Witch - MyDelphi - E, 8 chapters - Single father Draco Malfoy adored his son. And had decided that for his first Yule, Scorp deserved a priceless gift for being such a good little boy. And what was more priceless than getting him a mother? Getting him Granger as a mother. (Which would be a very convenient present as Draco Malfoy was terribly and irrevocably in love with her.)

Tentacular - Kayka - E, 8 chapters - Auror Draco Malfoy suffers a mishap that renders him alarmingly altered. Lead Healer Hermione Granger has never been one to step down from a challenge, though this tentacle-y little problem may be the first to actually get the best of her.

The Choices We Make - flags_fiend - T, 18 chapters - Draco wants to get through his probation and avoid any further stints in Azkaban. Hermione just wants to get through each week. In many ways they’re more similar than Draco could have ever anticipated. Something’s definitely different about Granger, although what that is is as much a mystery as his new placement. Is it her who has changed or him? As his probation conditions bring them into closer and closer contact, could loneliness become friendship, and then friendship become something more?

My Best Friends’ Best Friend Draco Malfoy - GreenInk_RedLetters - M, 19 chapters - "Look, we obviously don’t get along.“ Malfoy rose a brow. “But Harry is my best friend and for some miraculous reason he’s decided to trust you so I’m proposing a truce." Malfoy crossed his arms. "A…truce?" ”Yes. No insulting my hair or my clothes OR my work habits.“ He looked like he wanted to interrupt her. "And I won’t intentionally insult your necessity for a house elf or your slimy personality." "In the same breath you’ve managed to propose a truce AND insult me.” He paused. “Very Slytherin of you.” Hermione ignored him. "Truce? For the sake of our friends?“ He smirked. "Alright.” Her eyes narrowed. She hadn’t expected it to be that easy. A true enemies-to-lovers Dramione story, with an added twist of the rest of Hermione’s friends having already adopted Draco into their group. But when the pair form a timid truce to work together to assist in Harry’s proposal to Ginny…maybe seeds of friendship (or something more) will start to bloom. Features classic Draco snark, humor, alcohol-induced decision making, and perhaps someone not hating the other *quite* as much as they’d previously alluded to.

-Lisa

[fernandezology]

mon cherié -benjamin pavard

summary: both you and benjamin are insufferably stubborn,which makes this “hot and cold” situation unbearable. if destiny wants to see you together,who is gonna be the first one to stop acting like you hate each other?

author’s note: thank you for all your support and requests so far! this is the longest piece i wrote so far and i really put my heart and energy into this one. let me know what do you think <3

word count: 2,5 k

warnings: angst,betrayal and mentions of cheating

What is it about us that we always want something we can’t have? Or someone. I had never craved anyone’s attention like this before. Not until I met him.

He was always there,yet so far out of my reach. Almost like a toy you will reach for at top shelves in stores. Unreachable for me. I never knew where I stood with him. One thing was sure- he was the one. He had to be. If not him,then who? I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him. No amount of love movies could ever prepare me for that fatal attraction. Nothing compares to experiencing that moment. Destiny wanted us together,but did you?

From that moment on, he was the last thing I would have on my mind before going to sleep. It even got to a point where I couldn’t even escape him while I was sleeping. And when I wasn’t seeing him in my dreams,I would daydream about him. Not that I would ever admit that to him. I was too proud to do it. Eventually,that would cost us time we could already spend together.

As the time went by, I was convinced that falling for someone this hard is a form of self- destruction.It just had to be. Raw feelings and this catastrophic timing made the most painful combination. How is it even possible to love someone that much without really knowing them? I just saw right through you. For what you really are, and I still love every single part of you. Even flaws. That’s what made you so irresistible. Some said that’s because I had a savior complex and you needed to be “saved”.

The truth is- I needed you. Needed to be saved by your love. If anything,I loved your flaws more than anything. You wouldn’t be who you are without them. You desperately wanted to give off the impression of someone mysterious to everyone else and always leave them wondering. Who are you? Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies? Have you created a life for yourself where you can experience them? What are you really like? Do you have someone? What rumors about you are true? For a good period of time,those rumors left me wondering too.

I scrolled through her post and it wasn’t because I was envious. The only thing I want for you is to be happy,even if it doesn’t include me. At least that’s what I was trying to convince myself. It worked for awhile. It got draining eventually and I was trying my best to hide it. I felt so pathetic for crying over someone who probably doesn’t even think about me. Why would you? I clearly did my best to push you away from me. We were never friends,but certainly not this either. How did it even come to this? From sitting together in classes and making jokes to not being able to stand each other.

I had to contradict everything you said. For some reason,even though you were shy,you always had something to say about everything. Truthfully,sometimes everyone found it frustrating. What did you wanna prove? It seemed like you wanted to be a teachers pet and always be against everyone else because you are above us. Straight A’s,tall,good-looking,popular among girls.. Even your football career seemed to be going in the right direction. What else is there to prove really?

Once again,I saw right through your facade. You wanted approval from others,which is something you always seek. Maybe not actively,but you love to feel accepted. You loved to make people laugh,but honestly, nothing about this situation was funny at all. Maybe destiny doesn’t wanna see us together after all.

Where did it all take a wrong turn for us? If „we“ ever were a thing after all. Everyone noticed the way we looked at each other. Self-proclaimed enemies don't look at each other with lust in their eyes. If I had to point out one specific event, it would be the moment where I comforted you about one of the rumors that was going around.

Not because I wanted to humiliate you or find out the truth so everyone can gossip about it and talk behind your back, just like they always do. Some nice „friends“ you have. It was because I wanted to let you know I'm not that naive to believe everything I hear or read.

And most importantly- to let you know I'm here for you. Someone you can rely on, shoulder to cry. I see you and your good heart. Your good intentions. The rumor has it that you were sending inappropriate texts to some girls while you were with that girl. There was no way anyone would want to hurt her, especially not you. She looks beautiful and kind, she probably gives you butterflies. I was having sleepless nights over thinking about how to bring that up, but let's face it-that's not something you just casually bring up in random conversation. Who in their right mind would just ask „Hey, did you send these inappropriate messages to girls while you had a girlfriend? „

Nobody, except for me. I was waiting for an opportunity to ask you about this for days, weeks even. Nothing seemed like the right time to ask you about it and I wanted it to be as natural as possible. Somehow, after all that overthinking, I brought it up in the most idiotic way possible.

I noticed you were walking home alone after school and stopped you. After so many years, I still don't know what got into me. All I know is that I suddenly felt like my heart was in my throat. Even though I was practicing what to say in the mirror so many times, I went completely off the script.

Not the first time we have been off the script, is it?

„Hey, can I just show you something if you have a second?”

„Of course, what is it?”

„Uhm, I don't know are you aware, but they are talking about how you were sending some questionable messages to a lot of girls.”

„Wait, what?”

„So you don't know? There are screenshots going around…”

„I have to go or I will be late for a game, but if you can, please send me those screenshots.”

„Good luck and I will.”

„Thank you. „

This definetly felt wrong. It felt like I was interrogating you for a „crime“ that has no correlation to me whatsoever. It wasn't my place to ask you that, but since I already did, I had to proceed with it and send you screenshots.

Nothing for hours.

Followed by „seen at 3:27 am“.

That's what happens when you go off the script,but that's life. We can't retake this scene and try again.

Now it's up to you to decide what comes next. At the very least, you could've thanked me for letting you know, but no. Radio silence at your end.

After that conversation, I wouldn't even consider us „enemies“. I would consider ourselves as strangers because, at the end of the day, that is what we are. Who was I fooling? I will never know what you are thinking, who you are when you are alone at night with your thoughts. My friends noticed that you were looking at me every time I looked away from you. They didn’t know about our conversation, but even then, they knew you looked like you were so desperate to say something. Still no progress and let's face it- there will never be one.

It's not like I didn't try to occupy myself with other things, other people. All of my attempts worked out only for a short amount of time. Not suprising considering they never left significant mark on my life. Looking back on it, I should've risk it, confess it to you and risk a rejection. It couldn't be that bad if it happened sooner, right? They say time heals open wounds of a broken heart, but what would be a medicine for however you wanna describe this? All my friends are tired of hearing of how much I miss you and I got sick of thinking about you all the time. It almost felt pathetic.

I needed something, well someone to get you off my mind. Funnily enough, my boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend now, looked very similiar to you. It's safe to say I have a type. Brown eyes and curly brown hair. Very predictable of me. If I only predicted that so called replacements don't work out. If anything, that cheap version of you only made my life even more miserable with constant lying and gaslighting.

To make the whole story more embarassing, he broke up with me right before Christmas and ruined my favorite time of the year. Looking back on it, it was a blessing in disguise. There is just one thing I will forever regret if you put aside the fact that I endured his gaslighting for months. He was my first kiss and just looking back on it makes me physically ill. It's such a repulsive memory. Thanks God I complemently blocked that out of my memory.

On the other hand, I don't think he will block you out of his memory because he was also one of those that were envious of you, your talent, popularity and attractivness. Imagine if he knew he was your supossed replacement… Failed to even be the mediocre version of himself. He is free to add me on the list of girls who he didn't satisfy in any way. Not to wish bad upon anyone, but he doesn’t deserve to feel happiness after what he has done. Not to mention he most likely cheated too because I saw him with other girl on new year's party. Dissapointing but normal procedure by his standards.

Wanna hear something that is not a normal procedure in our story? Him sitting next to me in bus on our week long school trip. In the middle of the night as well. Everyone were asleep except few of us. I didn’t even notice him at first because I was got lost in my thoughts while looking through window. Night was so peaceful and you could see stars since sky was so clear, not a single cloud in the sight. He tapped my shoulder to get my attention and I just assumed it's one of my friends that was sitting behind me.

„Do you mind if I sit here? „

„No, go ahead. „

„It's a bit crowded back there so I hope you don't mind that I came. „

„It's okay, don't worry. „

„Why are you awake? „

„I could ask you the same thing. „

„I asked you first. „

„And you came to my seat so your rules don't apply here, monsieur . „

„Monsieur? I'm not that old,mademoiselle”

„Sorry, your dark cicrles are telling me a different story. „

„Hey, no need for that. „

„I'm just kidding, but seriously, why are you awake?“

„Because I can't fall asleep. „

„Really? „

„Really. That's why I'm here. „

„Huh? Am I supossed to tuckle you in and tell you a goodnight story? „

„I mean, if you want to… „

„Just go to sleep. „

„That's very rude of you, mon cherié. „

„What did you say? „

„Hm? Nothing, you are hearing stuff. „

„Goodnight then. „

„Goodnight. „

Well, that was suprising. His presence and the smell of his perfume were so comforting. It was almost like I needed him to fall asleep peacefully. To be more exact, it seemed like he needed me too.

Why are we each others safe place when all we do is bring chaos into each others lives?

Overthinking hit me again while he was leaning more and more towards me. This probbably doesn’t mean anything, but I would've lied if I said this isn't gonna disturb me. I was finally moving on and then this had to happen? How convinient.

„Sometimes I was conviced you are doing this on puprose. What else could it be? I just wanted you to make up your mind and put both of us out of this misery. I was hoping I will never ever come across you after high school. „

„I'm sorry, but that will never work out for you. Your shoulder probabbly went numb because I was all over you, I'm sorry. „

„Not just that, you were also drooling in your sleep. „

„That's embarassing. I hope nobody saw it. „

„Not only did they see you, they took pictures too. „

„Put that in a frame. But jokes aside, why did it took us so long? „

„Maybe because both of us are so insufferably stubborn? „

„That's what makes it more fun. „

„Suffering back then wasn't that fun, to be honest. „

„If this is suffering, then I wanna suffer forever with you. „

„Wow, so romantic of you. „

„Why are you rolling your eyes? I'm being serious. „

„It's just a natural reaction when I see you. „

„Are you thinking what I'm thinking or? „

„Oh stop winking at me and be serious for once. „

„Sorry, what were you saying? „

„I was about to say that I will never forgive you that you will never be my first kiss. „

„What?? I thought I was special? You are such a traitor. „

„Turns out you weren't the only one that was drooling over me. „

„Just so you know, that kiss doesn’t count. „

„So which one does? „

„This one. „

And he was right. That is the only that will ever matter.

[queenmayor23]

Grand Piano VI {Dean Winchester X Male Reader}

An oversized teddy bear sits in the rocking chair.

TJ: Whoever you are... Whatever you are, just come out before my revolver does.

The bear fades out of reality, and a man replaces it in the room, clapping. The man was pale in the face and dressed in a high-end suit. His greying beard and the oak wood cane were the only factors to reveal his age. His thick Southern accent and gravelly voice put TJ on edge.

Man: You spotted me. Very impressive.

TJ: The only thing that goes in that chair is me. I won't even put a blanket on it. 

Man: Good idea. Though it is a comfortable chair, you probably want to keep it from wear and tear.

TJ: You have about ten seconds until I take out the revolver in my nightstand. So who are you, and what do you want?

Man: My name is...

The man chuckles, smiling at the thought of his answer.

Man: I have been called many things over my lifetime. Some called me a Lord of Chaos, others one of Order. But I am merely an agent observing for a bigger mission. One that may have you separated from Dean Winchester for a long time or bring up some memories that make you want to run into his arms.

TJ: Okay, what do I get out of this fantasy football recruitment?

Man: Knowledge. Power. Tools to fight the upcoming war. A family with Jackson Lunden, like in the dream. Or. A thrilling adventure with Dean Winchester. But all of that depends on how you react to the return of John Winchester.

TJ: So he's alive?

Man: For now.

TJ: Hmm.

TJ nods, thinking about all the variations of things that could happen if they were ever in the same room again. Then he thinks about what scenarios could put them in the same room.

TJ: You said that there was a bigger mission. Care to explain?

Man: I want you to take my place. 

TJ: As a what?

Man: As a keeper of balance. Live as long as you want, but when you are ready to die, have someone in place to take up the mantle. No possession is needed. 

TJ: You look 45, 50 max. How long did you live?

Man: Over 500 years. I stopped myself from aging. Then when I knew I was getting tired, I allowed my internal self to age while remaining physically the same externally. But just because I did it doesn't mean you have to. You can look like whatever you want to as long as you do the job. 

TJ: Meaning?

Man: The Winchester Brothers will find themselves in a war between heaven and hell, and people like me, and hopefully you, use our power to create balance. The angels have to be good, and demons create chaos. When angels start to blur that line, and they will, you have to push them back. You will inevitably make deals with monsters that will put lives in danger. And because of your new abilities, those closest to you will become targets, including Jackson, Richie, and everyone at the lounge. I myself have lost quite a few loved ones over the years. Yes, most to natural death, but the ones that hit harder are those you lose, knowing you have the power to save them and can't. 

TJ: Okay, say I want to do this. How do I acquire these powers?

Man: When the young you and Dean "connected," it seeded a bit of my power in you. 

TJ: Wait, so that was you?

Man: It was my power presenting itself to you in a form that would not threaten you. When you accept it, it will pour into you, as I will peacefully die in my sleep.

TJ: And I get to have an everyday life when I'm not dealing with balance keeping?

Man: Of course. Well, as ordinary as you can get for someone like you. I imagine running an underground bar is pretty hectic. I would've loved something like that in my younger years. Don't even get me started with prohibition-

TJ: Fine. I'll do it. As long as it comes with some sort of instruction manual. This is new territory for me. 

Man: Here's the thing. There are no rules other than good equals good and bad equals bad. So if you want to poof to Paris for a date, you can. Want the President dead? Send a werewolf to attack the White House. Time travel can be iffy, but just make sure you bend your knees and don't interact with yourself in your own form. Oh, I should mention it helps the balance keeping when you go hunting, including demons. They're overpopulated down there, anyway. Other than that, you should be good. It shouldn't matter because you'll be semi-omniscient. So… thanks, and have a good and productive life.

The man snaps, and TJ falls asleep again. 

[starseedfxofficial]

Mixed U.S. Markets & Fed Drama: What's the Real Play? Tough Week for Wall Street, T-notes & Martial Law Drama: Buckle Up What a rollercoaster, my fellow traders! This week, U.S. equities didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and I can relate—it's like ordering the perfect steak only for it to arrive lukewarm (ouch). Let me tell you what went down. The Stock Market Conundrum The U.S. stock market's vibes were all over the place. The S&P 500 eked out a marginal gain (+0.05%), while the tech-heavy Nasdaq decided to be a little more adventurous, up by 0.31%. The Dow Jones, though, wasn't feeling it and slipped by -0.17%. Meanwhile, the Russell 2000 was truly struggling, down -0.73%. Can anyone say, "Small caps need a hug"? And here comes the plot twist: Just when we thought we had things under control, South Korean President Yoon announced martial law to counter "pro-North" sentiments. Yes, you read that right—martial law. Naturally, U.S. traders panicked faster than realizing you’ve double-booked a date night. T-notes spiked as everyone ran to safety, only to cool back down when Yoon hit the "just kidding" button and called it off. If your trading week felt like it was up and down, well… it wasn't just you. Fed Dilemma: "To Cut or Not to Cut?" Ah, the Fed. You know, they’re kind of like that friend who can't decide between taking a trip to Bali or saving for a new car—except, instead of vacations, it’s about, you know, managing the entire U.S. economy. Fed's Daly gave us a peek into her undecided mind, suggesting that a December rate cut might still be on the table, but then again, it might not. Clear as mud, right? But in fairness, she did mention something we can all get behind: Inflation's a bumpy ride, and they’re trying to smooth it out. Hang in there, Daly! Now, Fed’s Kugler also weighed in—think of her as the one reminding everyone to stay level-headed at the party. She reassured us that policy isn't set in stone and changes will happen as needed. Then, Fed’s Goolsbee piped up, saying he expects rates to come down "a fair amount." Honestly, it feels like everyone’s waiting for someone else to make the first move. Classic group project dynamic, right? What’s Going on at the Pentagon? Meanwhile, President-elect Trump is on a hiring spree—we’re talking about the top seat at the Pentagon, no less. It seems Florida Governor Ron Desantis is under consideration, but wait! Senator Earnst of Iowa and even Hagerty from Tennessee might be in the running too. Kind of like drafting for your fantasy football league, except, you know, national defense. Whoever gets the job, let’s just hope they know what they’re signing up for. Market Insights: What Can Traders Take Away? Okay, time to bring it all together—where's the trading edge in all this chaos? - Bonds Are Still the Haven: When the going gets tough, traders flock to U.S. Treasuries. Martial law halfway across the globe? Boom—T-notes rally. While it didn't last, moments like these are powerful reminders that bonds often provide a safety net. - The Fed Speaks, Traders Listen: The market loves ambiguity from the Fed—said no trader, ever. The rate cut drama is far from over, but positioning yourself with flexibility (think hedging, setting contingent orders) can keep you ahead of the pack. - Equity Markets Are Sentimental Beasts: Choppy futures and mixed equity indices reveal just how jittery things are. Investors are currently more cautious than a cat near a bathtub, and for good reason. Taking contrarian positions could pay off, but only if you know when to pounce—or back off. Underground Trends & Hidden Gems Now, for a secret nugget most traders are probably overlooking—look beyond the headlines and tap into the emerging defense sector plays. The shuffle at the Pentagon and potential policy shifts could mean significant movements in aerospace and defense stocks. Not only do these stories foreshadow potential contracts and budget shifts, but they also tend to create ripple effects in adjacent industries. Remember, the trick is to anticipate where the money could flow before everyone else catches on. This week has reminded us of one simple truth: markets are emotional, and sometimes, they’re outright erratic. As traders, we need to be adaptable, clued-in, and ready for anything—be it a surprise martial law declaration or a Federal Reserve that can’t make up its mind. While uncertainty can be nerve-wracking, it also creates opportunities for those willing to embrace it. So keep your eyes peeled, stay ahead of the news, and if you're looking for exclusive insights that go beyond the surface, check out our Forex news hub at StarseedFX. Let’s face it—there's never been a better time to be both informed and entertained. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated   Read the full article

[charlies-letters]

October 28, 1991

Dear friend, I’m sorry I haven’t written to you in a couple of weeks, but I have been trying to “participate” like Bill said. It’s strange because sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book. Also, when I write letters, I spend the next two days thinking about what I figured out in my letters. I do not know if this is good or bad. Nevertheless, I am trying to participate.

Incidentally, the book Bill gave me was Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie. I know what you’re thinking. The cartoon Peter Pan with the lost boys. The actual book is so much better than that. It’s just about this boy who refuses to grow up, and when Wendy grows up, he feels very betrayed. At least that’s what I got out of it. I think Bill gave me the book to teach me a lesson of some kind.

The good news is that I read the book, and because of its fantasy nature, I could not pretend that I was in the book. That way I could participate and still read. In terms of my participation in things, I am trying to go to social events that they set up in my school. It’s too late to join any clubs or anything like that, but I still try to go to the things that I can. Things like the homecoming football game and dance, even if I don’t have a date.

I cannot imagine that I will ever come home for a homecoming game after I leave here, but it was fun to pretend that I was. I found Patrick and Sam sitting in their normal spot in the bleachers, and I started acting like I hadn’t seen them in a year even though I had seen them that afternoon in lunch when I ate my orange, and they smoked cigarettes.

“Patrick, is that you? And Sam... it’s been so long. Who’s winning? God, college is such a trial. My professor is making me read twenty-seven books this weekend, and my girlfriend needs me to paint signs for her protest rally Tuesday. Let those administrators know we mean business. Dad is busy with his golf swing, and Mom has her hands full with tennis. We must do this again. I would stay, but I have to pick my sister up from her emotional workshop. She’s making real progress. Good to see ya.”

And then I walked away. I went down to the concession stand and bought three boxes of nachos and a diet coke for Sam. When I returned, I sat down and gave Patrick and Sam the nachos and Sam her diet coke. And Sam smiled. The great thing about Sam is that she doesn’t think I’m crazy for pretending to do things. Patrick doesn’t either, but he was too busy watching the game and screaming at Brad, the quarterback. Sam told me during the game that they were going over to their friend’s house later for a party.

Then, she asked me if I wanted to go, and I said yes because I had never been to a party before. I had seen one at my house, though. My parents went to Ohio to see a very distant cousin get buried or married. I don’t remember which. And they left my brother in charge of the house. He was sixteen at the time. My brother used the opportunity to throw a big party with beer and everything. I was ordered to stay in my room, which was okay because that’s where everyone kept their coats, and it was fun looking through the stuff in their pockets. Every ten minutes or so, a drunk girl or boy would stumble in my room to see if they could make out there or something. Then, they would see me and walk away. That is, except for this one couple.

This one couple, whom I was told later were very popular and in love, stumbled into my room and asked if I minded them using it. I told them that my brother and sister said I had to stay here, and they asked if they could use the room anyway with me still in it. I said I didn’t see why not, so they closed the door and started kissing. Kissing very hard. After a few minutes, the boy’s hand went up the girl’s shirt, and she started protesting.

“C’mon, Dave.” “What?” “The kid’s in here.” “It’s okay.”

And the boy kept working up the girl’s shirt, and as much as she said no, he kept working it. After a few minutes, she stopped protesting, and he pulled her shirt off, and she had a white bra on with lace. I honestly didn’t know what to do by this point. Pretty soon, he took off her bra and started to kiss her breasts. And then he put his hand down her pants, and she started moaning. I think they were both very drunk. He reached to take off her pants, but she started crying really hard, so he reached for his own. He pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees.

“Please. Dave. No.”

But the boy just talked soft to her about how good she looked and things like that, and she grabbed his penis with her hands and started moving it. I wish I could describe this a little more nicely without using words like penis, but that was the way it was. After a few minutes, the boy pushed the girl’s head down, and she started to kiss his penis. She was still crying. Finally, she stopped crying because he put his penis in her mouth, and I don’t think you can cry in that position. I had to stop watching at that point because I started to feel sick, but it kept going on, and they kept doing other things, and she kept saying “no.” Even when I covered my ears, I could still hear her say that. My sister came in eventually to bring me a bowl of potato chips, and when she found the boy and the girl, they stopped. My sister was very embarrassed, but not as embarrassed as the girl. The boy looked kind of smug. He didn’t say much. After they left, my sister turned to me. “Did they know you were in here?” “Yes. They asked if they could use the room.” “Why didn’t you stop them?” “I didn’t know what they were doing.” “You pervert,” was the last thing my sister said before she left the room, still carrying the bowl of potato chips. I told Sam and Patrick about this, and they both got very quiet. Sam said that she used to go out with Dave for a while before she got into punk music, and Patrick said he heard about that party. I wasn’t surprised that he did because it kind of became a legend. At least that’s what I’ve heard when I tell some kids who my older brother is. When the police came, they found my brother asleep on the roof. Nobody knows how he got there. My sister was making out in the laundry room with some senior. She was a freshman at the time. A lot of parents came to the house then to pick up their kids, and a lot of the girls were crying and throwing up. Most of the boys had run away by this point. My brother got in big trouble, and my sister was given a “serious talk” by my parents about bad influences. And that was that.

The boy named Dave is a senior now. He plays on the football team. He is a wide receiver. I watched the end of the game when Dave caught a touchdown thrown from Brad. It ended up winning the game for our school. And people went crazy in the stands because we won the game. But all I could think about was that party. I thought about it quiet for a long time, then I looked over to Sam.

“He raped her, didn’t he?” She just nodded. I couldn’t tell if she was sad or just knew more things than me. “We should tell someone, shouldn’t we?” Sam just shook her head this time. She then explained about all the things you have to go through to prove it, especially in high school when the boy and girl are popular and still in love. The next day at the homecoming dance, I saw them dancing together. Dave and his girl. And I got really mad. It kind of scared me how mad I got. I thought about walking up to Dave and really hurting him like maybe I should have really hurt Sean. And I think I would have, but Sam saw me and put her arm around my shoulder like she does. She calmed me down, and I guess I’m glad she did because I think I would have gotten even madder if I started hitting Dave, and his girl stopped me because she loved him. I think I would have gotten even madder about that.

So, I decided to do the next best thing and let the air out of Dave’s tires. Sam knew which was his car. There is a feeling that I had Friday night after the homecoming game that I don’t know if I will ever be able to describe except to say that it is warm. Sam and Patrick drove me to the party that night, and I sat in the middle of Sam’s pickup truck. Sam loves her pickup truck because I think it reminds her of her dad. The feeling I had happened when Sam told Patrick to find a station on the radio. And he kept getting commercials. And commercials. And a really bad song about love that had the word “baby” in it. And then more commercials. And finally he found this really amazing song about this boy, and we all got quiet.

Sam tapped her hand on the steering wheel. Patrick held his hand outside the car and made air waves. And I just sat between them. After the song finished, I said something.

“I feel infinite.”

And Sam and Patrick looked at me like I said the greatest thing they ever heard. Because the song was that great and because we all really paid attention to it. Five minutes of a lifetime were truly spent, and we felt young in a good way. I have since bought the record, and I would tell you what it was, but truthfully, it’s not the same unless you’re driving to your first real party, and you’re sitting in the middle seat of a pickup with two nice people when it starts to rain. We got to the house where the party was, and Patrick did this secret knock. It would be hard to describe to you this knock without sound. The door opened a crack, and this guy with frizzy hair looked out at us.

“Patrick known as Patty known as Nothing?” “Bob.” The door opened, and the old friends hugged each other. Then, Sam and Bob hugged each other.

Then, Sam spoke. “This is our friend, Charlie.” And you won’t believe it. Bob hugged me! Sam told me as we were hanging up our coats that Bob was “baked like a fucking cake.” I really had to quote that one even though it has a swear. The party was in the basement of this house. The room was quite smoky, and the kids were much older. There were two girls showing each other their tattoos and belly button rings. Seniors, I think. This guy named Fritz something was eating a lot of Twinkies. Fritz’s girlfriend was talking to him about women’s rights, and he kept saying, “I know, baby.” Sam and Patrick started smoking cigarettes. Bob went up to the kitchen when he heard the bell ring.

When he came back, he brought a can of Milwaukee’s Best beer for everyone, as well as two new party guests. There was Maggie, who needed to use the bathroom. And there was Brad, the quarterback of the high school football team. No kidding! I do not know why this excited me, but I guess when you see somebody in the hallway or on the field or something, it’s nice to know that they are a real person.

Everyone was very friendly to me and asked me a lot of questions about myself. I guess because I was the youngest, and they didn’t want me to feel out of place, especially after I said no to having a beer. I once had a beer with my brother when I was twelve, and I just didn’t like it. It’s really that simple for me. Some of the questions I was asked was what grade I was in and what did I want to be when I grow up.

“I am a freshman, and I don’t know just yet.”

I looked around, and I saw that Sam and Patrick had left with Brad. That’s when Bob started passing around food.

“Would you like a brownie?” “Yes. Thank you.” I was actually quite hungry because normally Sam and Patrick take me to the Big Boy after the football games, and I guess I was used to it by now. I ate the brownie, and it tasted a little weird, but it was still a brownie, so I still liked it. But this was not an ordinary brownie. Since you are older, I think you know what kind of brownie it was. After thirty minutes, the room started to slip away from me. I was talking to one of the girls with the belly button ring, and she seemed like she was in a movie. I started blinking a lot and looking around, and the music sounded heavy like water.

Sam came down and when she saw me, she turned to Bob. “What the hell is your problem?” “Come on, Sam. He likes it. Ask him.” “How do you feel, Charlie?”

“Light.” “You see?” Bob actually looked a little nervous, which I was later told was paranoia. Sam sat down next to me and held my hand, which felt cool. “Are you seeing anything, Charlie?” “Light.” “Does it feel good?” “Uh-huh.” “Are you thirsty?” “Uh-huh.” “What would you like to drink?” “A milkshake.” And everyone in the room, except Sam, erupted in laughter. “He’s stoned.” “Are you hungry, Charlie?” “Uh-huh.” “What would you like to eat?”

“A milkshake.”

I don’t think they would have laughed any harder even if what I said was at all funny. Then, Sam took my hand and stood me up on the dizzy floor.

“C’mon. We’ll get you a milkshake.” As we were leaving, Sam turned to Bob. “I still think you’re an asshole.” All Bob did was laugh. And Sam finally laughed, too. And I was glad that everyone seemed as happy as they seemed. Sam and I got up to the kitchen, and she turned on the light. Wow! It was so bright, I couldn’t believe it. It was like when you see a movie in the theater during the day, and when you leave the movie, you can’t believe that it’s still daylight outside. Sam got some ice cream and some milk and a blender. I asked her where the bathroom was, and she pointed around the corner almost like it was her house. I think she and Patrick spent a lot of time here when Bob was still in high school.

When I got out of the bathroom, I heard a noise in the room where we left our coats. I opened the door, and I saw Patrick kissing Brad. It was a stolen type of kissing. They heard me in the door and turned around. Patrick spoke first.

“Is that you, Charlie?” “Sam’s making me a milkshake.” “Who is this kid?” Brad just looked real nervous and not in the Bob way. “He’s a friend of mine. Relax.” Patrick then took me out of the room and closed the door. He put his hands on both of my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye. “Brad doesn’t want people to know.” “Why?” “Because he’s scared.” “Why?” “Because he is... wait... are you stoned?” “They said I was downstairs. Sam is making me a milkshake.” Patrick tried to keep from laughing. “Listen, Charlie. Brad doesn’t want people to know. I need you to promise that you won’t tell anyone. This will be our little secret. Okay?” “Okay.” “Thanks.”

With that, Patrick turned around and went back into the room. I heard some muffled voices, and Brad seemed upset, but I didn’t think it was any of my business, so I went back to the kitchen. I have to say that it was the best milkshake I ever had in my life. It was so delicious, it almost scared me. Before we left the party, Sam played me a few of her favorite songs. One was called “Blackbird.” The other was called “MLK.” They were both very beautiful. I mentioned the titles because they were as great when I listened to them sober.

Another interesting thing happened at the party before we left. Patrick came downstairs. I guess Brad had left. And Patrick smiled. And Bob started to make fun of him having a crush on the quarterback. And Patrick smiled more. I don’t think I ever saw Patrick smile so much. Then, Patrick pointed at me, and said something to Bob.

“He’s something, isn’t he?” Bob nodded his head. Patrick then said something I don’t think I’ll ever forget. “He’s a wallflower.”

And Bob really nodded his head. And the whole room nodded their head. And I started to feel nervous in the Bob way, but Patrick didn’t let me get too nervous. He sat down next to me.

“You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand.”

I didn’t know that other people thought things about me. I didn’t know that they looked. I was sitting on the floor of a basement of my first real party between Sam and Patrick, and I remembered that Sam introduced me as her friend to Bob. And I remembered that Patrick had done the same for Brad. And I started to cry. And nobody in that room looked at me weird for doing it. And then I really started to cry. Bob raised his drink and asked everyone to do the same. “To Charlie.” And the whole group said, “To Charlie.” I didn’t know why they did that, but it was very special to me that they did. Especially Sam. Especially her. I would tell you more about the homecoming dance, but now that I’m thinking about it, me letting out the air of Dave’s tires was the best part. I did try to dance like Bill suggested, but I usually like songs you can’t dance to, so I didn’t do it too much. Sam did look very pretty in her dress, but I was trying not to notice because I’m trying not to think of her that way.

I did notice that Brad and Patrick never talked once during the whole dance because Brad was off dancing with a cheerleader named Nancy, who is his girlfriend. And I did notice that my sister was dancing with the boy she wasn’t supposed to even though a different boy picked her up at the house.

After the dance, we left in Sam’s pickup. Patrick was driving this time. As we were approaching the Fort Pitt Tunnel, Sam asked Patrick to pull to the side of the road. I didn’t know what was going on. Sam then climbed in the back of the pickup, wearing nothing but her dance dress. She told Patrick to drive, and he got this smile on his face. I guess they had done this before.

Anyway, Patrick started driving really fast, and just before we got to the tunnel, Sam stood up, and the wind turned her dress into ocean waves. When we hit the tunnel, all the sound got scooped up into a vacuum, and it was replaced by a song on the tape player. A beautiful song called “Landslide.” When we got out of the tunnel, Sam screamed this really fun scream, and there it was. Downtown. Lights on buildings and everything that makes you wonder. Sam sat down and started laughing. Patrick started laughing. I started laughing.

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

Love always, Charlie.

[bacongrease55]

Dynasty Origins

It doesn't seem like that long ago that we got together to try a new fantasy football format. A league with not just one keeper, but where you can keep multiple players together for their whole careers if you so choose. While there was a lot of interest in trying out the new format, I wasn't sure if it would stick for us or not. Here we are nine years later though, and not only has it stuck, I personally get excited every year for this format, and it seems like something we will keep going for a long time. I believe dynasty has made me a better fantasy football player, by forcing me to put some time researching players I would have never spent time on before. The pressure of every transaction potentially effecting your team for years to come is a thrill I don't get from a regular league. 

As we get close now to a full decade of dynasty, I wanted to take a look back to the draft that started it all. How many players are still in the NFL since then? Who were the original busts and steals? Who the hell even are some of these guys? I'll answer these questions and more in part one of a nine article series I am looking forward to writing about our dynasty league. I haven't written much before about dynasty, which is a shame, considering how much crazy history this league has created the last eight years. I hope you all that read this enjoy some of the wild moves and stats that have shaped the league today as much as I enjoyed researching it all. 

Without further exposition let's go back to 2016. Ten original members, of which eight are still operating their original teams took part in, what is likely for many of us, the longest fantasy draft we had ever participated in. 22 rounds of drafting with more time on the clock than usual. Each of us were faced with a puzzle of how do I build a team that can win this year's championship, but still be good in the future? 

The first round was a who's who of hall of fame/high caliber fantasy stud players. Even though a few would only have a couple more top fantasy seasons left in the tank, I can honestly say that all ten first round picks were valid and the owner would probably make the same pick all over again and feel good about it. 

1. Antonio Brown John 

2. Odell Beckham Jr. Paul 

3. Cam Newton            Joucken (Now David) 

4. Julio Jones               Deron 

5. Todd Gurley             Donny (Now Alan) 

6. Ezekiel Elliott           Cory 

7. David Johnson Radin 

8. DeAndre Hopkins Sarah 

9. Adrian Peterson       Wilson 

10. Rob Gronkowski Turnage 

The league nailed the second round as well, with one exception: Brandon Marshall, pick 16 by Donny. Now I know what you're thinking, Brandon Marshall a bust? But he was a hell of a player. I agree that Brandon Marshall was a great receiver at the borderline of being a hall of famer in fact. The only problem is, Marshall produced hardly anything for Donny. In the final three years of his career from 2016-2018, Marshall produced a grand total of 88 receptions for 1,078 yards and four touchdowns. For comparisons sake, Marshall produced a whopping EIGHT single seasons that beat this three-year span mark in his career. Considering how many more productive players were taken after him, it's safe to say Marshall was a bust when it comes to our dynasty league. 

Going down the list, I decided to look at the first seven rounds for any other busts that stood out, as it's difficult to say picks after that would really qualify as a bust. Seven more players stood out. 

Eddie Lacey pick 25 by Donny. To say he hardly produced at all for Donny would be an understatement. Lacey would only play two years for Donny, before eating himself out of football. He failed to score a single touchdown in those two years. Drafting two busts in his first three picks was a huge setback for Donny, despite the fact that he actually drafted some steals that I'll go over later. Donny would give up his team to Alan after a few years of mediocrity which has to be strongly attributed to the two busts he drafted early in the league's first day of existence. 

Jordan Reed pick 35 by Cory. Unlike the previous players, Reed at least gave me one season of competent TE1 level play. The problem is, that isn't near enough production out of a young tight end taken in round four that you are expecting to be a mainstay of your team for the next decade. It's easy to look at Reed now as a great case of a physically dominant player that just couldn't stay healthy and put it all together, but back in 2016, he was actually coming off an incredible season, and the sky seemed like the limit. In 2015 he had 87 receptions for 952 yards and 11 touchdowns, despite even missing two games. In 2016 he had 66 receptions for 686 yards and 6 touchdowns, but was never really fantasy relevant again after that. 

Thomas Rawls pick 39 by Paul. This was the first player drafted by anyone in our original draft that made me stop for a second and say, "Wait, who was that again?" I vaguely remember him being on the Seahawks, and actually found an old article talking about him as the next fantasy breakout star as he replaced Marshawn Lynch, but he never was able to really accomplish much at all in the NFL. He was dropped by Paul on October 4th of 2016, picked up by Radin on October 26th, where he remained the rest of the year, but then Radin cut him heading into the 2017 draft and he was never heard from in our league again. Not good for a 4th round pick. 

Carlos Hyde pick 40 by John. Carlos Hyde was an absolute force at Ohio State, and while he did have some O.K. years for John, I had to include him because he just never lived up to the superstar potential we saw at Ohio State and there were players with much better careers taken after him here. 

Eric Decker pick 41 by John. The very next pick in the draft, also by John, Eric Decker was coming off a 1,000 yard, 12 touchdown year. Still in his late 20s, it was safe to assume he could be a solid WR for several more years. Instead, he completely declined, with an injury in 2016, sealing his fate as a wasted draft pick. He would retire after the 2017 season, not producing much of anything for John. 

Kelvin Benjamin pick 54 by Radin. We all know Benjamin is now a meme for how an NFL player's career can go wrong by deciding to be fat instead of a professional athlete, but we often forget that Benjamin actually showed a lot of promise and fantasy relevance coming off the first two years of his career. Unfortunately for Radin, he didn't get any of that production. Benjamin totaled just over 1,000 yards and four touchdowns over his final four years combined before retiring a total waste of talent. 

Josh Gordon pick 67 by Radin. The final bust of our original draft was Josh Gordon taken a round after another young, tantalizing, but controversial receiver Radin had taken in Benjamin. Josh Gordon burst onto the scene in 2013 with 87 catches for 1,646 yards and 9 touchdowns. He was a pickup that won people championships that year and became a fantasy darling because of it. Even more than the stats, Flash Gordon just passed the eye test as the next great superstar NFL player. The only problem was the NFL was in the dark ages when it came to weed, and Josh Gordon wasn't willing to give weed up to make a lot of money and have a great NFL career. It's crazy to think that Gordon ended up being in the NFL for over a decade, recently being given what must be his 100th chance with the Titans in 2022. He never really did shit in our Dynasty league, despite being picked up by half the league at one point or the other. 

Enough of busts, what about steals that stand out in our original draft? I came up with 9. 

1. Tom Brady pick 70 by Turnage. While this may not be the greatest steal of the first dynasty draft, it still popped out of the screen at me. Tom Brady ended up being Turnage's QB1 for 7 years, and put up some fantastic fantasy seasons during this time. The rest of the league was probably avoiding him, assuming he would retire soon, but to get that kind of value for so many years at the very bottom of the 7th, absolutely qualifies as a steal for Turnage. 

2. Travis Kelce pick 76 by Donny. How was a guy that would go on to break the TE position in fantasy football, and is still active on Alan's roster today as a bona-fide superstar, not taken until the 8th round? In 2014, and 2015 respectively, Kelce had close to 900 yards and 5 tds each season, so it's not like he wasn't already fantasy relevant. What else can I say except that we missed on this one as a league. 

3. Tyler Lockett pick 90 by Turnage. Lockett can be a bit controversial when it comes to fantasy because some people hate his inconsistency at times and see him more as a boom-or-bust WR2 but honestly... looking at this draft and some of the players going at this point, who wouldn't have signed up for a long career of WR2 play? Tyler Lockett remains a strong player on Turnage's team today, although interestingly, he did briefly lose him. On November 13th 2016, Turnage dropped Lockett for Dontrelle Inman (yikes.) Lockett remained a free agent for the remainder of 2016 and was taken in the third round by Deron in the 2017 dynasty draft. Deron then dropped Lockett for some guy named Javorius Allen. Turnage picked Lockett back up on September 17th, 2017 where he has remained since. 

4. Derrick Henry pick 95 by Cory. It's wild that such a fantasy stud like Henry was taken all the way in round 10 of his rookie season in our draft, but his story gets even wilder from there. He didn't stay on my team, and had quite the journey through our league, but that will be a story for another day when I do the "Wacky Waivers" article. 

5. Dak Prescott pick 99 by Paul. To find a longtime QB1 quality player so deep in the draft in a two QB format is impressive to say the least. Love him or hate him, Prescott has been a good fantasy player since his very first game. Paul would later trade him to Cory, where he has been rostered since. 

6. Stefon Diggs pick 102 by Paul. Just a few picks after Dak, Paul had another slam-dunk pick in Stefon Diggs. The only problem is he would go on to trade Diggs to Deron for Jerrick McKinnon later that season. Ouch. I'll talk about that trade and more in my trade evaluations article. 

7. Zach Ertz pick 105 by Donny. Donny must have a good eye for tight ends, because this was a home run all the way in the 11th round. Ertz is still an active player in the NFL today. 

8. Justin Tucker pick 118 by Joucken. I knew it was a kicker year! But seriously to find a likely hall of fame kicker in round 12 when you would start considering kickers in normal formats anyways, is well worth it. Tucker is still on David's team today as the NFL's top kicker most years. 

9. Jared Goff pick 201 by John. You have to go all the way to the 21st round of the draft to find another pick that stood out as a steal, and it was a good one. While Goff hasn't always been a QB1 necessarily, he's been a good player for John for his whole career which should continue for many more years. I have to give Goff credit; a lot of people were calling him a bust early in his career, but there's no doubt now that he has established himself as a reliable real-life and fantasy QB. 

We missed on several undrafted players from this season including DeVante Adams, Tyreek Hill (to be fair he was a 5th round rookie in 2016), and Adam Thielen. 

Other notes: The first dynasty draft was 22 rounds. We would expand the rosters to 24 players, where we have been ever since in 2017. Of the original 220 draft picks, 14 were team defenses. This means 206 individual players were drafted. Of those 206, just 41 players remain active in the NFL, or just under 20% (19.9%) of our draft picks.  

Of the 41 active players, 4 are kickers, 5 are defensive players, 13 are QBs (six of the QBs are now backup players) leaving just 19 skill position players. Of these 19, 6 are no longer fantasy relevant at all, 5 are draftable, but no longer must-starts, (OBJ, Zeke, Cooks, Ertz, Boyd) while 8 players can still be viewed as fantasy starters: WR Diggs, RB Henry, WR Lockett, TE Kelce, WR Amari Cooper, WR Evans, WR Allen, and WR Hopkins. 

Only three RBs from the original draft are still active in the NFL: Zeke, Henry and Ameer Abdullah (so random he's still active) 

Not counting team defense's, 9 players remain on the team that originally drafted them: 

K Tucker on David's team 

QB Aaron Rodgers on Radin's team 

TE Travis Kelce on Alan's team 

WR Tyler Lockett on Turnage's team 

Qbs Kirk Cousins and Russell Wilson, and WR DeAndre Hopkins on Sarah's team 

QB Jared Goff and WR Brandin Cooks on John's team 

There are a couple of defenses still on their original team: 

Denver on David's, and Pittsburgh on Turnage's 

Overall, here are how many currently active players each of us drafted: 

Cory: 8 

Deron: 6 

Sarah: 5 

Paul: 4 

Wilson: 4 

Donny: 4 

Turnage: 3 

Joucken: 3 

John: 2 

Radin: 2 

Final section, who the hell is he? 

Jeremy Langford pick 71 by Turnage (sounds vaguely familiar) 

Gary Barnage pick 104 by Deron (sounds like a TV attorney) 

Omar Bolden pick 121 by John 

Kamar Allen pick 143 by Joucken (doesn't even have a Wikipedia page lol) 

Charles Sims pick 158 by Joucken 

Clive Wafford pick 170 by Turnage 

K Candler Catanzaro pick 215 by Cory 

[wyn-n-tonic]

I'll Have Another

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader Word Count: 3.3k+ Warnings: Protected PiV. Mentions of guns and allusion to sexual violence (but neither guns nor sexual violence are apart of this story, they are just passing comments). Oral (f! receiving). Author's Note: This is all @d-sav's fault, she derailed me from writing the fifth chapter of Days of You & Me (a Joel Miller x OFC story), you can read the first chapter HERE.

Please follow @wyn-writing and you can sign up for my new taglist HERE.

Two whiskeys, two fingers full, down for the second night in a row as the clock ticks closer to a new day.

It’s only a Wednesday night but the nice weather drove people into the bar in groups of friends looking for a place to watch the game or somewhere new for their fantasy football league. Not him though, all alone at the bar with anxious hands and tired eyes. 

You shouldn’t be looking at him, staring at him like this from the other side of the bar. He’s never been here, you didn’t think he’d come back.

Crowd starts to thin and he raises his hand to call your attention over. 

“Final call was about half an hour ago, stretch,” you tell him, eyeing the empty glass and thinking he wants more. “If you wanna keep going, you’re gonna have to do it at home.”

“If I wanted more,” he grins out, “I would’ve asked for it half an hour ago at last call or”—he rocks his head back and forth, like he’s about to make an obvious statement—“maybe an hour ago when I finished it in the first place.”

“Then why on earth are you still here?” You ask him, arms crossed to consider the man in front of you. “Does it take you that long to sober up?”

He’s got a smile like a little kid, secretive and boyish like he’s never known true hurt because he’s always had somebody else standing in front of him to take the bulk of the blow. Or maybe he just hides it really well.

“I’ve been sober for a minute, actually,” he declares. “Just been spending all this time looking at you and how you keeping looking away from me when you see that I’ve caught you.”

“You’re new here,” you shrug. “It's my job to keep an eye on the newbies, never know who’s gonna start swinging.”

“And what would you do?” His head cocks to the side, eyes looking you up and down to the best of their ability with a bar in between you both. “If some dumb, drunk asshole were to start swinging, what would you do?” 

“If this is a threat, handsome, I should probably remind you that you’re in Texas—my daddy put a gun in my hand long before I ever knew how babies were made and said to use it if some dumb, drunk asshole got handsy.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

He is. Long face and a slightly rounded nose, black curls and half full lips on sun kissed olive skin.

“‘Cause, see,” he leans forward, and drops his thickly accented voice, “I'm talking about fighting and you’re talking about fucking.”

“To most men, that’s the same thing.” 

He considers that. “Well, I may be a dumb asshole but I’m not drunk and I certainly mind my manners.” He winks. “I'm Tommy and I would certainly like to get handsy with you.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re crashing into bed with his hand down your pants, long fingers fighting against the tightness of your done up jeans to touch you in that spot that makes your skin burn.

“If your soft little pussy is as tight as these jeans,” he drawls out, “you may never get rid of me.”

It’s not just the stimulation of his callused fingers against your clit that makes you burn, it's the words and it’s him. Has been since he sat down in the same seat last night and ordered his first drink.

He’s over you now, knees pressed into the mattress as he sits bowed towards your center with full concentration on the buttons between you. 

“You can touch me too, you know,” he says, grin splitting his face again as he looks up. With the button free, he undoes the zipper and starts to peel back the denim gently, like it’s painted on something delicate and only concentrated precision can clean it off without hurting what’s underneath it. “Oh, I hope you do. You can pull my fucking hair right out, sweetheart, it’d be an honor.” 

Shoes and pants tossed to the side, he focuses on his own as he pulls the large buckle free of his belt followed by the button of his fly and a deep sigh of relief.

“Well, you get right to the point,” you tell him, poking a pointed toe into his hip. You’ve never been more thankful for a pedicure than you are right now. “Don’t you?”

Starting with the contact of your foot poked into his side, he drags his gaze up the length of your open leg—takes in your body beneath him—and laughs.

“I really don’t,” he tells you, starting to undo the buttons of his shirt with the same deft fingers you were bucking against not even five minutes ago. “My cock's just real fucking hard and needed some breathing room.”

His voice is raspy, raw with the burn of alcohol and lust heavy on his tongue. He pulls the button up open and shrugs it off, revealing a sleeveless, white, ribbed undershirt over a barrel chest and thick, defined arms.

Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you look down at the straining material below his belt. “I really think you should give it some more.”

“Oh no,” he bends and hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties. “I'm a real selfish son of a bitch”—he starts to pull the material down—“sometimes I can’t control myself and my pent up little dick can’t last longer than a few minutes so I try not to leave a lady too dissatisfied.”

His confidence is sexy—a magnetic charisma you’ve been drawn to the last two nights he’s ordered whiskey and laughed at all your jokes. You’ve never heard a man willingly, or with such enthusiasm, refer to his dick as little. But here he is, setting a precedent of what to expect that you feel is the direct opposite to the one you’re usually fed.

Finally, his eyes trail away from yours back down your body, pushing your legs open as he tosses the soaked fabric over his shoulder and he whistles. Not the cartoonish kind of wolf whistling reserved for Jessica Rabbit but the kind of silent disbelief and awe.

“It's cute how wet you are already,” he says, pressing two fingers flat against your mound. “The way the streetlight reflects off this slick little thing makes you look like fucking magic.” 

Still on your elbows, he crashes a kiss down on you but unlike the hungry, hard kind of desperation in his lips at the door, this is soft; this is gentle. 

There’s whiskey on his breath and a little more; tobacco; coffee; mint and cinnamon—probably gum to cover it all up.

“May I please eat your pretty little cunt?” He breathes out against your lips.

Dazed, you nod your head. He may look it but this is not the frat boy hook up you’re used to. Hell, this isn’t the kind of hook up you’re used to with any kind of boy you’ve been with up until now. Using the word cunt as a positive, associating it with prettiness and, even, filling the word pretty with so much awe and wonder like he’s lucky to be here.

He kisses you again before sliding back, laying down flat on his stomach as he lifts your shirt to place a kiss to both of your hips and the soft skin of your lower stomach. 

Tommy does not get right to the point, he drags it out.

Shoulders settling between your thighs; soft lips against the inside of your knee, your thighs, and repeated patterns on the opposite side.

Anticipation builds within you, his hot breath ghosting across the sensitive skin he’s already set ablaze while yours comes out in short, heavy puffs.

He looks up at you again with that cheeky grin, like he has a secret that he’s just dying to tell. “Go ahead and lay back,” comes his low voice, breath fanning right over where you want him. “Let me take care of the rest and feel free to pull my hair.” 

Talking back isn’t even an option, not when he hooks his arm over your thigh to place one heavy, rough palm down on your mound. Still, you can’t sit back, too mesmerized by the crooked smile and lonesome dimple as he spreads you beneath that grip.

Then he kisses you. Open mouthed, free hand gripping around your thigh, he closes his mouth around you like he has never seen food, never known the satisfaction of a good meal or a good fuck. 

You do crash then, one hand sinking into your own hair as the other threads through the curls reminiscent of the darkest night you’ve ever seen. 

He hums and the vibration makes you jolt against his face which only makes him laugh. The laughter, continuous and contagious, mixes in with his moans until your own are dancing up to meet his.

You’ve been loud before, but never like this. This aren't the cries of a dorm room pornstar persona keeping herself in the good graces of drunk boys with mean streaks. This is heavy breaths and his name like a prayer before God who you are also calling to in desperation. Not to ask His spite for the man between your legs, but to ask His mercy and protection over him for the rest of his life.

This is tender and gentle.

This is warm and all encompassing.

This is pressure on the dam building up in a hard rain.

“Tommy,” you say his name in a panic, the familiar feeling of a full bladder hitting you. “Tommy, I’m gonna—“ It’s too late.

Pressure releases and warmth slides down to meet his tongue—his fingers—different in feeling from the slick you’ve dripped with after every fleeting moment of eye contact. Different, further, from the feeling of relief you get when you finally find the toilet after a four hour lecture hall.

Lifting himself, he runs a hand across his bottom lip and then his tongue along that too. “Been a while since I made somebody come for me that fast,” he says, surprise lacing his voice. “Tell me who’s not treating you right, I’ll beat the fuck out of them.” 

Covering your face—your embarrassment—with your hands makes him laugh and he lifts his weight off of the bed.

“Hold this for me, sweetheart,” he says as a small object no heavier than a quarter lands on your stomach followed by the sound of a zipper.

Tommy’s toeing his boots off when you sit up to look at him, undershirt already tossed to the side somewhere near his button up from earlier. His pants go next but he leaves his briefs, the soft cotton material leaving nothing much to the imagination as it stretches with his growing cock.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” He asks, calling my attention up to his eyes. I can see him slipping his underwear down in my periphery before he joins me back on the bed, but I don’t look—too taken by the liquid coal color of blown out pupils against dark brown irises.

“I don't think I’ve ever come before,” you tell him, lower stomach still clenching and unclenching. There’s a wet spot just beneath where you’re sitting, subtle and cooling against your ass in a way so different than the room temperature spillage of an uncovered cock you’re used to.

He smiles. “That’s why I asked you who hasn’t been treating you right,” he responds. “Somebody as pretty and smart as you should be coming as often as she goddamn pleases.”

“How do you know I’m smart?”

Eyes darting around the room, he lands on you again. “Framed bachelor degree, textbooks on the nightstand and on the desk with big words I don’t understand, figured you were a smart girl.”

“I'm trying.” There’s something so fucking intimate about how close he is, certainly the most intimacy you’ve ever felt.

“Help me with this condom, baby,” he says after several beats. “Been dying to get your soft little hands around my dick since the moment I set eyes on you.”

“Not my mouth?” You ask. “Usually, it’s my mouth that’s wanted.”

Gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he encourages you to open up to him, something you find yourself doing so easily, as he leans over to press his tongue flat against against yours.

Kissing after a man has been down on you is something you’re accustomed to, even if men won’t give the same courtesy of kissing you after you’ve reciprocated, but you’ve never tasted this. Tangy and sweet and mixed with his bad habits, there’s a throbbing building down within you again.

“I don’t have time for this sweet little mouth around me tonight,” he whispers when he pulls away. “I’m gonna three pump chump you and I’d like to do that deep inside of your pussy and not your throat.”

Stunning, charismatic. This man could tell you to rob a bank for him and you’d probably do so.

Taking your hand, all eyes focus on the weeping length of him between you. Even if he’s gonna three pump chump you as he says, part of you wants to ignore him and take him in your mouth anyway. He got to taste; why shouldn’t you?

Controlling yourself is hard, wanting to willingly give over everything you so closely protect in other encounters—the vulnerability, the tears, the communication of what feels good and what hurts. It’s usually always just what hurts and no amount of communication can solve a lecture fatigued college boy’s mind. 

With trembling hands, you help him push the condom down his shaft; careful beneath his guidance not to squeeze too hard.

You let him lift your shirt off, his eyes kept on yours as he peels yet another layer of fabric away. The amount of respect within this unforeseen encounter is the kind of shit you’ve only seen in movies.

“Magic,” he whispers again, finally looking down your body when the bra comes off as well. “You look like fucking magic.”

He leans himself into you, open mouth to open mouth as he takes your body back down to the mattress. All of his weight is braced against one arm and you’re gripping half-moons into his ribcage as he breathes heavy and slow, so close to you. It’s like he knows there’s a limit to air between you and he’s saving most of it for you.

Guiding himself to your entrance, he goes slack jawed with a small groan as he pushes slowly inside.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Goddamn, you’re never getting rid of me.”

He lays you down fully, body weight pressing against you like a hard wind, and he laughs when you start counting.

“One…” Your arms curved around his hips. “Two…” His hands smoothing across your hair. “Three…” The heels of your palms pressing into his ass to encourage him.

“There were your three pumps, chump,” you whisper. “Shouldn't you be done?”

Chest to chest, his hips stutter into a slow grind. “Oh, I’m taking my time with you, sweetheart.”

Continuing that same languid pace between your legs, it’s all soft touches and heavy breaths and moans traded back and forth in the space between until that pressure is building in you again.

Before, you thought it was an accident waiting to happen—part of you still does—but you only encourage him to continue fucking up into you at this pace as you chase down the high that fueled your embarrassment not too long ago.

It’s better this time, the same but different. Different in the way that he’s inside of you; the way his cock stretches you makes it all build that much slower and come down in a similar pace around him. His reaction, too, is different with his choked sound of pleasure and the changes in pace with which he continues pumping into you. 

“Never getting rid of me,” he whispers against your lips as another wave rushes through you. “I could live inside this cunt, pretty thing, nothing else has ever gripped me so-oh fuck—so fucking well.”

He doesn’t make a spectacle of his release, doesn’t grunt like a man through the fake tan fumes of a body building competition. This man you wouldn’t have necessarily pegged for gentle not even two hours ago releases soft sounds beneath his grasp for air and stills with closed eyes.

“Believe it or not,” he says a few moments later when he’s rolled onto his back, “I've never fucked like that.” 

“You're right,” you tell him. “I don’t believe it.” 

He’s not in a rush to leave and you’re not in a rush to push him out either. So different, still, from other encounters you’ve had. It helps that he smells good; tastes good; treats you with respect and kindness.

You watch as he stands up and moves across the room towards the ensuite. He’s got a cute little butt, not much going on there but enough to grab onto as you already know. He smiles when he looks up and catches your reflection in the mirror.

“Don't make fun of my booty,” he says over the sound of running water. “I’m very insecure about it.”

You watch again as he walks back and slips naked out the bedroom door. Small moments like this and you’re glad you have the apartment to yourself more often than not.

Returning, he hands you the glass of water he filled up and joins you back beneath the covers.

“So… I’m gonna guess from all the books and the fancy paper framed up on the wall that you’re not just a bartender. Are you still studying?”

“I am,” you stutter; half caught off guard by the interest he’s taken, half caught off guard by the fondness you already feel for him. Like this is normal. “I graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Public Health from Texas A&M.”

“Go Aggies,” he says.

“More like Go Longhorns now,” you continue. “I’m getting my masters here in Austin and then the dream is a doctorate from Johns Hopkins, all public health.”

He looks confused but interested. “I said I was a dumbass so excuse me, I promise I’m not trying to sound like a dickhead, but what does that enable you to do?” He shakes his head. “I never went to college, I’m actually really curious.”

“I'd like to be an epidemiologist,” you answer. “They study infectious diseases, aid in the prevention of them for the good of global health. Prevent pandemics and shit.” 

He nods, crooked smile returning. “That's like superhero level of shit, you know that? What are you doing having sex with a random hick in some bar?”

You laugh in return. “What's a random hick in a bar doing knowing how to eat pussy that well?”

“Oh, I was stationed in France for a bit,” he tells you. “French girls do not let you get away without eating them into a goddamn stupor, best skill I picked up in the army.”

“And you used a condom without me having to beg you, that’s so sexy.”

“Yeah?” He asks, leaning in with that same crooked, cocksure smile of his.

“Yeah,” you answer. “Don’t think I wanna get rid of you, in all honesty.”

Gently, he takes the water glass and sets it over on the nightstand before pushing back up against you. “I got another condom in my wallet, how about another round?”

“I have a whole box,” you counter, “how about several?”

He kisses you again, mumbling something about soulmates against your lips as he takes you back down beneath his naked body.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Secret Passion of Ed Asner

Chapter Twelve: Fucking Lou Grant

Featuring actor, Ed Asner

Back in the 80s, I was best friends with Matthew Asner, the son of Ed Asner, of Lou Grant and The Mary Tyler Moore Show fame. We did everything together. We liked the same music, same movies, same sports and couple of times we even shared the same girl. No, I was not attracted to him sexually, maybe now, but not back then. But his dad, Ed however, was everything I ever dreamed of in a man.

He was 57 years old at the time, a former football player, a big, burly daddy with a hairy barrel chest, solid gut, bald on top and a thick... well, you get the idea. Of course being around that big, burly bear had me having the sleaziest fantasies about him. Ed was married 27 years when our encounter first happened with three kids, but it was a marriage full of temptations and recriminations, infidelities, separations and screaming matches.

During the summer of 87 at the Asner’s home, it was just me, Matt and his parents. Ed was about to go for his afternoon jog in just a pair shorts on as it was hot that afternoon. I had my eyes all over when catch me looking and he smiled as I quickly avert my attention. At this point I almost couldn’t take it anymore, I was more than hot and horny, I needed a cock. BAD. And as luck would have it, Matt said he had to take his mom to her sister's house which is like 30 to 40 minutes each way. I asked if I could stay until he got back (for the eye candy of course) and he was like sure and left. I heard him say to his father who had just got back, that I was going to stay while they went out and I heard Ed say, "Make sure you lock that front door, I don't want anyone else coming in."

Thirsty, in more ways than one, I went into the kitchen to get something to drink. As I walked by the French doors leading to the pool, I was flabbergasted to see Ed climbing out of the pool in all his naked glory. Shit, what a fuckin cock, thick with a bulbus head and balls the size of oranges. When he picked up a towel and started to dry off, we glanced at each other as he put his foot in a lounge chair and bent over to dry his legs and feet. His big, hairy ass shined in the sun and I swallowed hard as I gazed at his balls hung beneath his wide pretty butt. He slung the towel between his legs and pulled it up back and forth against his ass balls and thick cock.

He has to know I can see him when our eyes met again as my hand went of its own will between my legs. I was getting stiff, but I kept looking in his eyes while I touched and stroked my cock. And even though he now had his back to me, I could tell from the motion of his arm that he was also stroking himself too. It was a long, long time before I averted my eyes. Finally realizing what was happening, I blushed and returned to my drink when the French doors open.

“See anything you like, Daniel?” I heard him voice say as sat down at the bar in the kitchen without bothering to get dressed, just had the towel over one knee.

"Er- uh… yes Mr. Asner, I’m sorry." I managed to reply as look down to my throbbing concealed cock.

"Why on earth should you be sorry, boy, you’re young and healthy and these things happen to us men. Why don’t you get it out, it must be uncomfortable to be hard inside those tight jean." He said as he stood up showing an enormous fat cock throbbing against his hairy belly.

"Mr. Asner?…", I started.

"Yes, son?" He said as he walked over to where I was rooted, his hand was caressing his cock all the while.

"I’m not sure this is the right thing to do, you’re Matt’s father and you’re…" I said until Ed interrupted me by dropping to his knees, running his hand up the back of my legs. I looked down at him, the view was hot, I saw past his broad shoulders down his back, his hairy ass was sticking out, with his equally hairy calves spread out beneath.

He began to pull my jeans down inch by inch, as my pubic hair came into view, I felt his wet tongue slide over it, my cock poked against his throat as his hands cupped my butt cheeks. I was moaning with some urgency, yet he continued to linger. Finally he pulled my shorts all the way down, exposing my throbbing 7" cut prick. He slid his tongue up the underside of my shaft and wrapped it around the head, sucking vigorously. Fuck! For a 65-yr. old dude he sure could suck! He swallowed more and more of my cock, deeper into his hungry mouth. I was finding it hard to hold back as his hand grabbed my nuts, he squeezed them tight while his head bobbed up and down my cock. I began fucking his face furiously, I was going wild...

I grabbed his head firmly in my hands pounded my cock into his mouth. He must have realized I was getting close, because I felt his thick middle finger brush against my hole. That was it for me, I felt myself tense up and with one final thrust, my crotch was pressed against his face. I released a blast of cum into the mouth of my best friend’s father. Ed grumbled greedily and swallowed it all!

"I'm sorry." I said as Ed came off him, licking his lips.

"Do not be," Ed replied as he stood up, his cock still fully erect, "the night is silent young and you're still a young man."

Then before I knew it, lowered myself down and took him in my mouth, wrapping my lips around it and circling the underside with my tongue.  

"Fuck!" He shouted, "You've done this before."

I just looked at him whilst still sliding his cock in and out of my mouth, savored the salty, musky taste of Ed and greedily inhaled the masculine scent of him. It had been months since I had been with guy and as weird as it was to be sucking off my friend's father it felt so good to a cock in my mouth again. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the smell of a man's crotch and the wet sounds of my lips sucking his cock.

Suddenly he grabbed me behind the head as he began to force more of his thick dick down my throat. His thick, hairy arms moved my head back and forth in a mechanical motion, like a well-oiled machine back and fourth onto his hard tool. Ed grunted with delight at that pleasure I was providing him as his cock plummeted deeper and deeper into my throat. I wanted to please him. I wanted to give him more pleasure than he got from his wife.

Ed moaned his approval and his hips sped up. I could hear him panting as he kneaded my hair and I felt the head of his wonderful cock swell just before he tightened his grip and put it fully in my mouth and began to cum. I almost gagged as his cum splashed the back of my throat, I swallowed most of it but some dribbled down my chin. He slid his cock in and out of my wanting mouth, finishing his orgasm.

"You really know how to suck a cock, boy. Didn't take you long at all to get me off." Ed grunted lustily.