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murdrdocs · 1 year

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forced proximity with ethan? :3

stuck with you | e.landry

description. turns out, the reputation of your favorite elevator wasn't unjust, as it traps you with your mortal enemy

includes. GN! reader, making out wooo, sorta mean!reader, happygolucky!ethan (kinda), nothing too crazy

a/n: reading this, i hope you can tell that i recently watched lab rats, this was not supposed to be this long but yay !

word count: 1.6k+

The elevator in the Hopkins Building was notorious for being a little sketchy. Horror stories about the lift stalling, potentially trapping its riders within it, floated around campus, eventually making its way to your friend group.

"I swear to God, I was in there one day, just trying to go upstairs, and the fucking death contraption stops." Mindy had told each of you the exaggerated story, her hands waving around and the intonation of her voice working as if she was telling a ghost story at summer camp. Which, is mostly why you didn't believe her.

Yes, you didn't want to even think about being trapped in the older elevator, but you also didn't want to have to deal with the monstrous stairs in the Hopkins building. There were many a times where you'd almost gotten calf cramps from them, so the elevator was the better option for you.

Unfortunately, the elevator also happened to be favored by Ethan Landry. Your (one sided) mortal enemy.

Just like any other Thursday afternoon, you wanted to use the mostly-frowned-upon elevator to go to the fifth floor, and due to its reputation you'd expected to be alone. Like you usually were. Your headphones were in, you were finishing off the last minute of one of your favorite songs, and the elevator door was sliding closed with the intention to take you to your class.

Until a white hand sticks between the metal doors, forcing them back open to reveal the brick wall of the corridor, and one flustered Ethan Landry.

"Oh," he says as he steps into the space. "Didn't know you were in here." The way he says it just oozes attitude, and yeah, you would've said the same. But it's only okay when you say it.

"No offense," he adds, as if it makes it any better.

You shrug, step over for him to press his floor, and turn your music up just a bit more.

As aforementioned, the elevator is old. It's slow. It shakes a bit. But it gets the job done. Usually.

You've spent months defending your favorite elevator. So why would it decide to slow down between the third and fourth floors? Why would the old-timey dial that shows which floor its on slow to a stop between the 'III' and 'IV'?

And worst of all, why would this happen with Ethan Landry, out of all people, standing to your left?

You can only blame it on bad luck.

"No, no, no, no." Ethan's already starting to freak out. You pull your headphones down, pausing your music, to watch Ethan frantically push the '4' button as if that would help. "Jesus, fuck, c'mon."

He starts to push the other buttons; open, close, three, two, ground. You roll your eyes, fighting off your own feelings of panic.

"The phone, Ethan."

He glances over his shoulder at you, his eyebrows furrowed before he nods. "The phone. Yeah. Right."

He reaches for the red phone, putting it to his ear and pushing the button with the firefighter helmet. You wait, playing with your fingers, twiddling your thumbs. But Ethan doesn't start speaking.

He pushes it again, waits. Nothing. He pushes it again, waits. Nothing.

"Ethan..." you start, your voice starting to sound worried.

"It's not..." He pushes it again. Nothing! Ethan slams the phone back onto the receiver, wrings his hair between his hands, and turns to face you. "It won't work."

It won't work. What are the fucking odds.

"So we're trapped in an elevator that doesn't have a working phone?" You know the situation is quite clear, but you're still asking for clarification.

Ethan nods.

"Fuck!"

You and Ethan tried ringing the alarm, but there wasn't another sound on the other side. You didn't even know if the alarm worked.

You knew the elevator was old, but you didn't know it was this old. Taking a look at the certification on the wall, you notice for the first time that the elevator wasn't serviced or checked in ten years. Ten.

"When we make it out of here, I'm suing Blackmore for all it's worth," you tell Ethan.

He snorts, and the sound shockingly isn't annoying to you. "Let me in on the case?"

You turn your head, hair sliding along the metal wall when you face him head on. "As long as our cut is equal."

"Deal."

It's silent for a few seconds. Ethan speaks first.

"Do you have any service?" You pull your phone out from your sweatshirt pocket, seeing that there was nothing but three dots in the top corner of your phone.

"Nope. You?"

Ethan shakes his head without checking his phone. "Nope. Plus my phone's on 10 percent."

"Who doesn't charge their phone before class?"

He shrugs, avoiding your eye as his ears turn a light hue of pink. "I was watching a 5 hour video essay about Victorious and fell asleep without plugging my phone in."

That makes you laugh. Maybe because the proximity, maybe because that's something you could see him doing, or maybe it's just because you like Ethan Landry more than you would admit without the circumstances.

"Was it a good video at least?"

"I wouldn't know. Fell asleep within the first 10 minutes."

It's weird how well conversation flows between you and Ethan when you're not holding onto a randomly formed grudge against him.

Topics switch at the drop of a hat, caused by a word or something brought up in a previous sentence. You find yourself smiling, cracking jokes, genuinely interested in the things that Ethan has to say. And you also find yourself sitting closer and closer to him, both of you sitting with your legs crossed, the proximity causing your knees to bump into each other occasionally.

The touch is nice. You don't mind it.

"You know," Ethan starts. You hum, turning to look at him. "Up until today I thought you hated me."

You hold in a laugh. "Well, that's because I do. I did."

His eyes widen a bit, a halfhearted smile threatening to stretch across the expanse of his pink lips. You find yourself staring at them, having to blink twice to bring yourself back.

"I knew it!" He seems overjoyed, as if he just discovered a 200 year old treasure and not that a member of his friend group has hated him for practically no reason.

"I wasn't really attempting to be discreet about it."

"Still, I thought maybe it was just me. The others said that's just how you were," nice that they would lie for you, "so I thought I was going crazy."

A beat where you're noticing how nice Ethan's lips are.

"Did I ... do something wrong? Something for you to hate me?"

They're so pink, and unexpectedly plump for him to be a White boy.

"Uh ... no."

What would it feel like to kiss them? Does he even know how to kiss?

"Then why did you treat me like that?"

Fuck it. Never know until you try.

You're pushing yourself forward, hands landing on his shoulders to keep yourself steady while you push your lips to his. It's chaste, nothing short of a longer, closed-mouthed peck. And as you're pulling away, you think about how stiff he was and how you should've asked first.

"Sorry," you're immediately apologizing, scooting a few inches away from him. "I should've asked first. I'm sorry."

You watch his reaction, watching how stoic he is, his lips still parted and his eyes unblinking.

You stand to your feet, just to do something other than sit there, and decide to walk over to the phone. You knew that it didn't work, but it's better than sitting there in an awkward silence that existed because of you.

You pull the phone off of its receiver, putting it to your ear, and immediately hear a dial tone. Your eyebrows furrow, your finger reaches out to press the firefighter button.

It rings, and rings. You wait, and wait.

"Hello?"

"Holy shit. Ethan, it's working!"

You hear shuffling, then you see Ethan's body from your peripheral. You talk to the firefighter, telling him about how you and Ethan had been stuck in the elevator in Hopkins Building for the past half hour, and a sigh of relief leaves your body when he tells you that someone will be out to help in the next 15 to 20 minutes.

The receiver is back where it belongs, you have a new sense of hope and happiness, and you turn to face Ethan with a smile on your face.

Before you can even truly realize it, his hands are on your cheeks and his lips are pushed to yours.

The time, he kisses you. It's soft, slow, gentle, a little shaky, but it's a solid kiss.

With his hands holding your cheeks, and his large body crowding your frame, you melt into the kiss. There's not a single thought, even a slither, of resentment towards Ethan. In fact, the only thought you have in your head is Ethan.

How his smell is just right, musky, sweet, a hint of something strong that soothes you. How his hands are oddly soft. How the heat from his body is comforting. How good it feels to kiss him.

However, you can't continuously kiss Ethan without needing a little more oxygen, so you eventually pull back.

Ethan looks a little shocked when you do, his hands reluctantly dropping from your face but you watch his fingers twitch as if he wants to be touching you again.

"Um..." he starts. You look up at him with bright eyes. "Would you wanna go on a date sometime?"

God bless the sketchy elevator in Hopkins Building.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry #ethansworld!#celeste writes scream #scream 6

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 16 days

Text

Heavy

Summary: Reader's having a depressive episode and needs some comfort from her mate

Content Warnings: Depression

Author's Note: I should be finishing my Vamp!Rhys fic but I got sad and wrote this instead

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Velaris is beautiful at night, from the glittering stars overhead, to the soft gurgle of the Sidra rushing over time worn stones beneath the city’s many intricate bridges. The music makes the whole city feel full of light and laughter, couples often dancing and humming in the streets. It’s one of your favorite places to be.

Usually.

Tonight it’s just… there. Though you stand in the heart of it, everything moves around you, never quite touching you. It’s as if you’re suddenly a stranger in the place you love the most, the emotional distance between you palpable.

You jam your hands in your pockets and keep walking, though you’re not really sure where you’re going, your body moving on autopilot. It’s been like that for a couple weeks now, if you’re honest, you’ll be half way through the day sometimes before you realize you’re not sure how or when you even got out of bed, or gotten dressed. Did you even eat? Kiss your mate good morning? Rhys has been working long hours in Illyria lately, most nights you’re already asleep before he’s even tumbling into bed, but, now that you’re thinking about it, that could also be because you’ve been going to sleep earlier too.

You frown at your boots as you walk, trying to remember when this happened. It’s not new, you’ve had bouts of this since you were a teenager, but they’ve been better thanks to regular sessions with Madja and some other healers. Art therapy in the Rainbow has helped too. Usually you can tell when you’re starting to slip into the darker places in your head, but it crept up on you this time.

By the time your mindless wanderings bring you back to the Townhouse, the light from your upstairs bedroom is already on, meaning Rhys somehow finished his business and beat you home. You’d only planned to grab some takeout so you wouldn’t have to cook, and yet, here you stand, hands as empty as your stomach.

The door opens before you can even reach for your key, soft light spilling out into the entryway. “There you are!” Rhys says by way of greeting, as if he’d been waiting by the door for you. Your mate leans in to place a quick peck on your lips as he guides you inside.

“Did you go to Rita’s with Mor?”

He should be able to tell you hadn’t, since you’re wearing the same sweatpants you had been for a week, but then again, he also hasn’t been home enough to know you haven’t changed out of them.

“No I…” you hate talking about this stuff, hate feeling like you’re burdening anybody with the weight you feel pressing down on your chest. “Uh, went to get dinner.”

Rhys stares down at your empty hands, eyebrows raised teasingly. “Did you forget to bring it back?”

You run a hand over your eyes. Cauldron they’re so heavy! Why is everything always so heavy? Your whole body feels like it’s made of bricks, just the effort to kick off your boots feels like it takes every single drop of energy you have left. “Sorry.” Even speaking feels like too much.

Rhys frowns, “Darling, are you ok?”

“Just tired,” you say, avoiding his eyes now.

He steps forward, placing a knuckle under your chin and tilting your face towards him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired,” you repeat, but your eyes are watering now.

He stills, violet eyes roaming over you, assessing for the first time tonight how you look, the dark circles under your eyes. He knows you haven’t had trouble sleeping, he’s barely been able to wake you when he comes home at night. “It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears falling in earnest now.

Rhys’s features soften as he lifts you into his arms, the bond flooding with warmth and understanding as he says, “It’s not your fault. You can’t help it.”

You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries you upstairs. “I thought I was doing better… but everything just feels heavy again.”

He kisses your forehead gently as he climbs into bed and settles you down against his chest. Twisting, his wings unfurl so he can curl one around you, cocooning you in the warmth of his body. “What can I do to help?”

You wrap an arm around his waist as you settle your face against his chest, his heartbeat steady and even beneath you. Madja had said once that this was helpful if you got overly anxious, the steadiness of his breathing helping yours level out, and it helps now too, gives you something to focus on. It’s grounding and you let your breathing sync up, your chest rising and falling against his own. Madja hadn’t been able to stress enough how important it was to find something to ground you in the present when you got like this, lest your thoughts start to spiral deeper and deeper into the dark.

“Just need you to hold me for a little while,” you say.

Rhys pulls your favorite blanket up over the two of you before wrapping an arm around your waist. “I love you,” and the bond floods with more warmth than you think you deserve, but it doesn’t let up when those thoughts sneak in. “I’ll do anything you need me to.”

You place a gentle kiss to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replies, fingers tracing shapes in your back. “No one has all good days.”

“But nothing even happened,” you protest. “I just woke up one morning and it was just so heavy to be awake.”

He kisses your temple. “We can see Madja in the morning, if you need, but you can’t beat yourself up. You have no control over it.”

You press your temple into his chest and breath in the jasmine and citrus scent of him. “I hate it.”

He places another kiss to the top of your head. You know he hates it too, hates that it’s a battle he can’t fight for you, no matter how much he wants to. “It will pass.”

Rhys is warm, his presence soothing, the darkness that seeps from his skin on the days he hasn’t had the time to expel enough of it, drifting over your body in soothing motions. This is safe and quite and peaceful. Your body starts to settle more and more as time goes on.

“Do you really believe that?” You whisper. “That it’ll pass?”

“Yes,” he says. “It has before, and it will again.” Knowing he’s had the experience himself, you’re inclined to believe he’s right.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” you admit.

Rhys holds you a little tighter, “Till all the stars fall from the sky, my love.” He holds you all night, whispering all the things he loves about you as you start to fall asleep.

You let yourself fall into it, hoping tomorrow will be better.

#rhysand x reader #Rhys x reader #Rhys x reader fluff #rhys acotar #acotar fic #acotar fluff #my writing #my fanfic #fanfiction #Rhys fic

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kookslastbutton · 1 year

Text

Sidelines ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Best friends since university, Yoongi has always been the first one rushing to your side. But when you fall into his arms after, yet again, another heartbreak, Yoongi reaches his breaking point.

Pairing: best friend!yoongi x fem!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends2lovers, oneshot

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: cursing, impulsive confession, sexual content, also reader's true feelings are left a bit open ended

Sexual warnings: dom!Yoongi, slight brat!sub!reader, unprotected sex (don't follow thier lead!), begging, spanking, penetration, f*ngering, cunn*lingus, t*t play, dirty talk, teasing, pet names (princess), slight degradation (b*tch)

Now playing: Love The Way You Lie, Infinity, Escapism+

A/N: Had this idea for a while so when I tell you I sprinted through this oneshot, I SPRINTED. It may be a bit melodramatic and short. Enjoy! 💞

Yoongi stares at his phone–waiting.

Waiting for your name to pop on the screen.

Waiting for your shaky voice to ring through the phone, asking to come over.

Waiting for you to throw yourself into him in desperation to be held.

It should happen anytime now. Why haven’t you called yet? He’s thinking about making the first move but no. That would look too suspicious.

"Dude, you gotta tell her.” Namjoon looks at his friend with deep compassion. He’s known Yoongi since college. Knows the type of heart he carries in his chest. It’s beautifully devoted, warm, and open. But this time…this time it’s too much.

"It's not my place Joon,” Yoongi rasps. “I made a promise.

Yoongi thinks back to the day he met you. It was a cool autumn morning and you were poking around every brick building, nearly walking in circles. It was clear you were searching for something. Turns out it was the dining hall, which was no easy task to find with the campus being the size it was. You were a transfer student and being a recent transfer himself, Yoongi gladly walked you over. That became the first of many memories you’d share together.

Late study nights where you’d fall asleep on his shoulder. Stealing his sweatshirt with a devious yet playful smile. Always having not one pack of gum, but three in your bag. You loved gum for some odd reason. By senior year, Yoongi missed those days most and he wanted more than anything to tell you that a peice of himself was with you. How could he tell you though when you had begun spending every night with the captain of the hockey team? No, he wasn’t going to get in the way.

But he really should have. Heartbreak number one came when you found out your lovely hockey boyfriend had his tongue down some chick’s throat at a frat party. You’re kicking yourself for ever bawling your eyes over that jerk. Perhaps more pressing however is that Yoongi knew your boyfriend wasn’t a great guy. He even tried dropping hints that you ought to be careful with him but you didn’t listen. Despite everything, Yoongi was still the first to show up beside you that day. You won’t forget it.

Now four years out of university, you have a new man of the year who is, for the first time, genuine. Or at least that’s what you think. Yoongi knows otherwise. Just the other day he overheard said boyfriend planning to break up with you. When Yoongi stepped out to confront him, your boyfriend begged that he be the one to tell you. Yoongi promised he wouldn’t say anything which is what brings him to this very moment now.

"You can't keep doing this,” Namjoon urges. “Being her saving grace, her constant shoulder to cry on. It's not fair especially when–”

"She's my friend. I'd do it for you too."

“Bullshit. You’re still in love with her and she doesn’t even think twice about it. She still thinks of you as her older brother.”

“So let her think of me that way. A friend, an older brother…I can't turn my back on her after all this time. I won't."

“All I’m suggesting are boundaries Yoon. Or better yet, tell her how you feel. You're not turning your back on her by being honest. I see how much it pains you to see her running around with no-good losers every year or two when you’re always right next to her.”

The truth in Namjoon’s words stings, pricks like thorns. Yoongi wishes they didn’t but the tensing of his muscles and the heat steadily climbing the back of his neck were clear signs that he couldn't repulse them.

“It’s too late for–__!”

Yoongi's eyes instantly gravitate to his cell vibrating against the coffee table. He snatches it in seconds, bringing it to his ear.

“Yoongi! I–he….Yoongi he ended it with me," you say, voice cracking. Though not in front of him, Yoongi could see the tears trickling down your cheeks. He could feel the sunkenness deep in your heart. He shared this pain with you many times before and it burned stronger each time. "I'm shocked. I didn’t think…I’m sorry I’m having trouble thinking and–and speaking. Yoongi, please, please can I come over? Or can you come here? I know it's late but I just really need to be with someone right now.”

Yoongi turns his gaze to Namjoon who mouths the words 'don't' but he can't bring himself to agree. It goes against his nature and his devotion to you. Maybe his friend is right and you'll only ever see him platonically. One thing's for sure though–he can't lose you.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay there." Yoongi grabs his keys off the kitchen counter and bolts out the door.

"That jerk!" You splash cold water on your face, hoping it will clear your mascara-smudged face. Yoongi was about to come over and you looked like an absolute wreck. He couldn't see you like this again.

Quickly, you rush to your dresser and pull out a less wrinkled t-shirt and lounge pants. You head downstairs next to tidy up the space. You may or may not have had a tiny outrage after your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, told you he was leaving you. Yoongi couldn't see that either.

While cleaning your eyes prick with tears again. It hadn't registered to you now but there were reminders of your ex everywhere. Little gifts he'd given you. Pictures of the two of you on random excursions. How could he do this to you? You harden your face and stomp to the kitchen, searching for something big and black.

You start tossing everything in the garbage bag. Pictures, cards, trinkets, stuffed animals–it all went. And it felt good. It dried your tears. As you make your way around the room, you're suddenly stopped in your purge. A small smile breaks on your face when you see the gift Yoongi got you for graduation. It was a double picture frame with a vibrant orange leaf sealed inside. One photo was of you and Yoongi the first year you'd met. The other was the two of you on graduation day. Yoongi put this together to commemorate your friendship. He's still your day one, you sigh. Four years and he's still here to help you pick up the pieces.

"___!"

Thumpthumpthump

"It's me, open the door," Yoongi gruffs from the hallway. You drop the garbage bag and immediately stride over. You pat yourself down before letting him in.

"Yoongi, hi."

Yoongi takes your invitation and paces inside. "Bit of spring cleaning __?" Of course the garbage bag is the first thing he sees. You fiddle with your hands unsure what to say. "I'm sorry ___. He didn't deserve you."

You bury your face in his shoulder, biting back the growing temptation to cry. Yoongi brings you into a closer embrace. His arms hold firmly around your own shoulders. "Thank you for coming. I know it's late so I understand if you can't stay long."

"I'm here as long as you need." Yoongi pauses, recalling your brief conversation earlier on the phone. "You know you can cry around me ___."

"I'm f–"

"Fine?" Yoongi loosens his grip to look at you. "The clothes, the dried tears, the giant garbage bag in the living room? Needing someone to be here because you don't want to be alone tonight. What part is fine? Because I'm not. Neither are you." His thumb gently strokes your shoulders, soothing your tensed muscles. "So if you need to cry, yell, whatever. Do it."

Wetness caresses your cheeks again and this time you don't wipe them away. "Why does this keep happening?" Your voice cracks as you peer into your best friend's eyes. "They never love me. No one ever does."

His dark eyes soften and you nearly see them glass over through your own tear-filled eyes. You search Yoongi's face for a response but all Yoongi can hear is the echo of Namjoon's words – "All I’m suggesting are boundaries Yoon. Or better yet, tell her how you feel. You're not turning your back on her by being honest. I see how much it pains you to see her running around with no-good losers every year or two when you’re always right next to her".

Yoongi is silent for a moment, mauling over what his friend said. You see him hesitating for the first time in a while. "So–so why do you choose them?" He chokes.

You're a little stunned. This isn't how this usually goes. If you didn't know any better you'd think there was an accusatory tone in your best friend's question. It's unnatural and you're slow to reply.

"Because..."

Yoongi stands still, concentrated on you.

"I don't know. Because they seem kind? And I want to give them a chance."

That's it? Yoongi isn't sure he's hearing you right. Surely there would be more to it. He expected so. Before he's able to retract the words they're already out. "Then what am I? I've never had a chance."

Reflexively, you push away from him. No. No this isn't happening. You must have misheard. "What do you mean?"

"From someone, I mean. No one ever given me the chance to be with them like that so you're very...uh very open." Lies. You're lying again, Yoongi thinks. But look how she broke away from you?

"Oh, I thought you meant...."

You know what? Screw it. Namjoon's right–"You're not turning your back on her by being honest".

"I did." He clenches his fists. "I meant it exactly how you interpret it. I–I love you. And if it isn't love it's damn close."

Your heart drops, mind scatters in twisted directions. You've heard of friends growing feelings for each other before but you never thought–why now? After four years of being next to each other and going out with all those guys. Why didn't he say anything? And when did it happen? Did he always feel this way? Oh my god.

"Sorry, I panicked," Yoongi continues. "But those guys you go out with? They don't care about you like I do. Every time they hurt you it makes me want to scream 'I'm here if you see us as anything more'. But I'm terrified to lose you ___. That's why I kept it to myself."

"Yoongi I–I don't know if..." You stop seeing his heavy eyes. You don't want to break his heart but you can't tell what you're feeling. You never took the time to think of him in these terms. But one thing was for sure. You walk up to Yoongi and take hold of his hand. "You'll never lose me. Do you hear me? You're my best friend and I could never let you go."

"But did you hear me?" Yoongi squeezes your hand. "I love you ___. I don't expect it to be reciprocated so...."

"We can try." Without thinking you close the distance between your best friend. You move to press a soft kiss to his lips but Yoongi lunges backwards.

"Please don't," he says. "You don't need to force yourself ___. I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything. It wasn't supposed to be about me tonight, I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. This is about us now, our friendship. I'm glad you told me and to be honest, I'm not saying no. I'm saying we can try."

Yoongi sighs and leans on the back of your couch, arms crossed and eyes downward. "You just got out of a relationship ___."

"Yeah so? We were only together for a few months. I don't even think I loved him."

"But you could have with more time."

You join Yoongi next to the couch. "I mean sure maybe if he didn't break up with me."

"___. Don't you see?" Yoongi turns his face towards yours. "We've had four years together. I don't want you to try to love me, I want you to love me naturally. Like I do. And if, after four years you don't then I don't want to put that kind of pressure on you."

"You're not pressuring me to do anything. You've always been there for me through everything and i care very deeply for you. Maybe I haven't thought of you as more than a friend because I didn't let myself to. Maybe I was too caught up in everyone else that I just..." You pause, setting a hand on his shoulder.

"What if we try and nothing changes? Or something happens and we break each other," Yoongi interrupts. "We'll never recover."

"Do you have that little faith in us?" You place a hand on his other shoulder, turning his whole body around. "Because I don't. Perhaps you're right that something might happen that makes things complicated. But I know we won't let it get out of hand. In fact, something beautiful might come out of this. Don't you want to find out?"

He does. Of course, he does. But was this how you really felt? "You were really upset earlier," he says. "I don't want to cloud your judgment, especially after what happened."

You lean into him closer, lips hovering over his. "I don't care about that anymore. All I care about is my best friend and I really, really want to give this a chance."

Yoongi searches for any hesitation. It's hard to do when you're mere inches from him. He's tempted to lean forward and close the distance completely– to say yes. So you do it for him.

You weave your hands through Yoongi's silky dark hair and press a firm kiss to his lips. He's disoriented at first but like a tidal wave, everything he's been holding back rushes out as he moves harder against you. You feel his hands travel down to the small of your back and snake around your waist. A tongue finds its way inside your mouth next. It dances with yours in a fiery passion. Your body burns up with every touch, every kiss. It's a foreign feeling but you welcome it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Yoongi murmurs.

You give a faint smile and take his hand. "There's no one I'd rather do this with." You guide him down the hall and into your bedroom. Yoongi pulls you into another kiss, this time resting a pair of cool hands underneath the fabric of your t-shirt. You moan softly into the kiss and pull the t-shirt over your head.

"I'd tell you that you look beautiful but you already know that." Yoongi traces up your sides and along the band of your bra. It tickles for a moment but then you remember who you're with, where you are, and what you're doing.

"Not so fast," you pull back from his grasp and eye his covered chest. Yoongi picks up on your signal and rids himself of his shirt, revealing his smooth, tan torso. You've seen him shirtless before but when did he get so muscular?

With lust-blown eyes, you're pushed on your back next, sinking into your mattress. Yoongi hovers above you. A light peck is placed on your collarbone before moving to the valley between your neck and shoulder.

"Yoongi."

"Mm?"

"How long have you loved me?" Yoongi open-mouth kisses the ridge of your neck. You close your eyes, anticipating his response. "When did you know?"

"Last year of university when you started going out with that jackass on the hockey team." Yoongi lifts his head from your neck and looks at you. "What did you ever see in him? I thought you said you give the kind ones chances, not asses like him."

You nibble on your bottom lip and wrap your arms around his neck playfully. "Oh no, him? He was just hot. I wasn't really thinking very much when we got involved...if you know what I mean?" You raise an eyebrow but yelp when Yoongi digs his hands behind you to unhook your bra. He snaps the lacy fabric off the rest of your body and throws it on the ground.

"Yeah?" Yoongi gruffs. Well, who's little bitch are now? Answer me." He gives your left nipple a tug. You feel a wetness gather between your legs but it wasn't from the stimulation of your nipple. It was his tone, his demeanor. Yoongi never talked like this and it made all the hairs on your body stand.

"Are you–jealous?"

"Wrong answer princess." Yoongi pinches your nipple again. "I'll ask you again, who's bitch are you?"

"No ones." You flip the man over and straddle his waist. "Who's bitch are you?"

Yoongi growls and gives you a hard slap on your ass. When you let out a moan, the man underneath goes feral–riveting with desire. You're thrown on your back again with legs spread apart. Yoongi waits for your nod before yanking your pants off, along with your panties. He does the same to himself, cock hardening in your view. Fuck, you curse to yourself. You had no idea what he was packing until now.

Yoongi settles between your thighs and stares you dead straight in the eye. "We're gonna have a little competition princess. I'm gonna eat you out and if you finish without begging to have my cock then I'll be your bitch. Deal?"

You swallow hard and nod. Who knew your best friend was this nasty. "Deal," you reply, widening your legs. Yoongi smirks and runs a cool finger along your slit. You feel the pit of your core tighten upon contact but keep a straight face. "I thought you were eating me–fuck!"

Yoongi pushes in, breaching your walls as far as he could with his finger. He adds a second in after two pumps, focusing on your reaction. "There's something you should know ___." He begins circling his thumb on your clit, causing your head to throw back in the process. "I don't like brats. So if this was any other time, I'd probably already be fucking your tight, wet pussy. But it's our first time together." Yoongi retracts his fingers instantly, soaked with your cum. "I'll go easy on you."

"Shit." You claw at the sheets. Yoongi licks a long stripe up your folds, dipping between ever so often just to see your hips jolt. His hands dig into your inner thighs, driving your senses wild. "Ah! Yoongi!"

"Need to come princess?"

You struggle to reply, bringing a hand up to latch on his hair. "I–ah–I'm not even close-close yet!"

Hearing your response, Yoongi thrusts his fingers back in, creating a steady rhythm with his tongue. "Fuckfuckfuck!" you curse, knot twisting inside you. You feel Yoongi smirk that same cocky smirk from earlier as he continues eating you out. "Yoongi, I'm close now!"

"Are you? Beg for my cock and I'll let you come."

What the actual fuck? "You're such-ah-a cheater! Well I'm not gonna–fuck! Please, please I need to come."

No response.

"Okay...okayokay. Please, Yoongi, can I have your cock?" You immediately come, tightening your hold on his hair. "Oh my god Yoongi, you're so evil fuck!" You give him a slap on the chest once you release. Yoongi grins down at you and catches your wrist.

"Who's bitch are you?" Slowly, he crawls further up your body, pinning your arm above your head. He grabs your other arm and places it on top of the other. "Are you really not gonna say it?"

"Yours. I'm yours, Yoongi."

"Damn straight you are. Now keep them there." He squeezes your wrists together before placing his hands on either side of your head. He bends down and gives you a passionate kiss. "You really are beautiful ___. Are you still sure you wanna do this?"

"Please."

Yoongi caresses your check, aligns himself with your entrance, and pushes in. Your mouth falls wide, but nothing comes out for a moment. Once you adjust, you give a slight nod.

"Fuck." Yoongi moves inside you, penetrating through your velvety walls. Your eyes roll upwards as his close shut. "Oh god, Yoongi–faster please," you breathe.

Yoongi pushes deeper in you, his length pulling in and out of your hole at a rhythmic pace. Beads of sweat form along his forehead and your around your neck. You let out a loud moan once feeling the cord within you wind up again. Yoongi soon feels it too, quickening his speed.

"I can't believe we're doing this-ah shit!"

Your hands, struggling to stay down, jolt with every thrust. You look deep into Yoongi's eyes, his staring straight back into yours. You're both grinning too, like idiots really. "Me neither. But I'm glad we are."

Yoongi kisses you again. It's sloppier than before but you couldn't care less. "You're gonna come soon mm? Because I know I am. This pussy is so tight-fuck-it's basically swallowing my cock. Brat like you love this shit don't you?"

You laugh and rustle through his hair but your arm is pinned back down. Yoongi starts moving inside you as fast and hard as he can, breasts bouncing against his muscular chest. He so close and so are you. "Asked you a question princess."

Your back arches as he fucks into you. "Yes-yes we do! Fuck, I'm gonna come. If it doesn't happen now it'll–"

"Come for me __." Yoongi pushes himself into you one last time before both of you finish, gasping for breath. You feel his length pull out of you shortly after.

Side by side now, hot and sweaty, Yoongi looks at you. "What the fuck did we just do?"

You grin and leap on part of his chest. "We're giving us a chance."

"By starting with sex?" Yoongi throws an arm around you. "Let's do this properly and go on a date tomorrow."

You giggle and bury your head in his shoulder. Goof. Maybe, this does have a real chance of working out. "Okay," you whisper.

A/N: Thanks for stopping by! As always, lmk your thoughts. See ya! 💞

Masterlist

#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts au #bts scenarios #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #fic:sidelines #kookslastbutton

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alrtyhoney · 11 months

Text

VAMPIRE!

(You can't love anyone 'cause that would mean you had a heart.)

The rundown: Miguel had an image to uphold and you are in the way of him keeping up appearances.

Content: Miguel x !Reader / Angst! (wc: 2011)

Miguel had an image to uphold. He is of many things; stoic, cold-blooded, mean– some of the words you’d hear from whispers and passing spider-men. Of course he knew that, knew everything that came from everyone’s mouth. The walls talked, and by walls, it was mostly from those people that tolerated him.

“You know people would talk more nicely about you if you weren’t so..” Peter B. trailed off, trying to find a description that didn’t seem offending. Not that it ever bothered Miguel, but he wasn’t in the mood to be sent out early back to his universe.

“Stoic? Restrained?” He listed a reply, uninterested.

“Closed off.”

He wasn’t exactly expecting that. It wasn’t like the people knew him well enough to see who he was way past his shell of a tough man. He wasn’t closed off– He wasn’t heartless enough to not let people in and by people, you. Only you.

It was only you that saw through him; the only one who tried to put the bricks of the wall he had built down one by one. You were gentle– genuine. Every word that he wasn’t. You made his brain short circuit, his spine rigid, and palms sweat.

The problem was, while Miguel was all those mean words, he was also dense; unknowing, stupid, insensitive. He didn’t know how to love.

You were patient. It was satisfaction enough that Miguel had given you attention before; like you existed and wasn’t like any of the million other spider-men. You knew you weren’t imagining it when he had softened around you.

Days passed and melted into months– months into years and years into moments he couldn’t take for granted. Just how could he push you aside when you have been nothing but perfect to him? Before you knew it, he had asked you to be his and when he did, you saw nothing of what they called Miguel.

It was surprising– Miguel wasn’t as overbearing with someone. And while everyone was delighted that someone had made him less hostile, a few comments had made his stomach churn in shame. (Who knew a woman was all he needed to release tension– jeez! / I wonder how y/n could put up with someone so nonchalant. Poor her.) They probably didn’t mean harm, but it made Miguel undeniably embarrassed.

And before he knew it, he was pushing you away– slowly.

(“What ya working on, boss?” You had plopped on one of the tables from his office, legs swinging as you watched him from his platform.

“Work. Something you should be doing too.” Miguel had answered, still focused on the plenty holograms but lowering the platform nonetheless. Something you’ve learned about him was he’d never be direct– everything he’d imply was for you to figure out. It wasn’t like you didn’t expect him to be an easy man, but it was still a privilege to know the little things about him.

You jumped off from where you were sitting to join him, reading the reports from the desks that surrounded him, while stealing glances to what he worked on. It took every strength for Miguel to not soften his shoulders– jaw tightening so the smile that was threatening to seep through wouldn’t show. God, he yearned to touch you; to have you near him all the time.

Something about you made him feel normal– just him.

“Date night?” His body jolted slightly when you whispered, your warm breath fanning over his ears as you lovingly nuzzled your head against the crook of his neck. You had risen onto the tips of your toes, chest pressed against his as you waited for his response.

He chuckles, the sound deep and resonating in your chest as you draw close to him. Unable to restrict himself anymore, he turns to you. He puts his weight against the machine behind him, positioning you between his legs. His crinkled eyes and warm smile make your heart swell, and for a moment it's just the two of you: no worries or troubles. No image to uphold.

"How could I possibly turn you down, amor?" he murmurs affectionately, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He revels in the giggle you let out and it makes him shiver with so much love.

“Oh, I don’t know,” You trailed off jokingly, drawing circles on his chest. “You seem busy.”

“Never too busy for you, you know that right?” You hummed softly in reply, leaning your body against his and letting him play with the strands of your hair.

Suddenly, Jess came into view, her gaze focused intently on the papers in her hands. It wasn't until she had realized that someone was in the room with her. "Miguel– oh, y/n, what are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

Miguel quickly rises to his feet, coughing and shifting nervously. He turns to face away from you, “Leaving. She was just about to leave.” Miguel blurts out, tone dismissive.

You feel the heat of embarrassment and confusion spread quickly through your veins as you stand there, your heart aching. You had stared for a second or so before he finally looked back at you. “Leave. Now.”

Your eyes widened and that was the cue you needed to go. “Right– right! Was just about to leave.” You quickly scurry to leave, murmuring a soft ‘I’ll see you later.’)

You were respective of Miguel; knew of what troubled him. After that occurrence, he had pampered you– apologized a million times in between opening up. I didn’t mean it, love. He said, she caught me off guard.

You were still patient. You understood that it was never his intention to hurt you, but your mind was blaring alerts in bright red. Do you perhaps embarrass him? This wasn’t the only time it had happened– wasn’t the only time he had left you in a clueless state.

(“So, you and y/n.” Hobie had begun, tinkering with his machines and carefully extracting different parts from them.

Miguel was aware that the seemingly casual conversation was only a ruse to distract him while he continued to steal from his devices, but he indulged nonetheless. Reprimanding him wouldn’t help anyway. “What about her?” Unbeknownst to him, you were in the same place. You couldn't help but feel your eyebrows rise up to the sound of your name.

“I don’t know, you tell me, you dense bloke.” Hobie let out a huff, then plopped himself down in an office chair and began to spin it around in circles. He knew about it anyway. You would tell him about Miguel and your relationship, told him what made your heart race and what troubled you greatly.

Hobie wanted to hear it from Miguel– wanted to confirm your uncertainty.

Miguel hesitates as he ponders, eyebrows knitted together. He clicks his tongue in frustration before finally giving an answer “An associate? Coworker? I don’t know what you want from me.”

You felt a sudden weight crash down upon you— your mouth became parched and your chest seemed to constrict. It was like something was pressing hard against you, making it difficult to breathe. An unwelcome realization dawned on you as you pieced it all together.

“Ouch. You hear that, y/n? If I was you, I would’ve dumped this oaf.” But you had been gone before Miguel even got the chance to set his eyes on you and he knew he had messed up again.)

“I’m not closed off.” Miguel had muttered under his breath– a bit too defensive to his liking as he clicked away on his keyboard aggressively. Peter didn’t miss the shift on his behavior and he decided to push further.

What was with everyone and questioning about his personal life?

“You know what I mean– Jess, help me out here.”

“What he means is, it wouldn’t hurt to be less uptight.” Jessica said, “I mean, look at you and y/n. It’s not so hard to be friendly.”

Peter's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief, his furrowed eyebrows clearly expressing his disagreement. “Friendly? Look me dead in the eyes and tell me the heart eyes he’s shooting y/n is friendly.” He butted in with Mayday babbling in the carrier strapped to his chest like she was on the same page as his father.

Jess rolls her eyes, “I just don’t think Miguel’s the type to be all lovey-dovey.” She replies, both hands lifting in a gesture of surrender. “Besides, y/n is waaay out of his league.” She can already imagine it - Miguel trying his best to sweep y/n off her feet with corny pickup lines or gestures that didn’t seem like him.

They didn’t know about them; no one did. It wasn’t like they made their relationship public.

Blood rushed to his ears as they continued to banter about him, frustration brimming to the point of overflow. They continued to talk about him like he wasn’t there in front of him– like what he felt didn’t matter. He finally turns to them, expression clearly unamused.

And unbeknownst to him, you were just around the corner. You marched towards his office, chest puffed and heart pounding as you advanced. Your mind was made up, finally giving in to the voices waving red flags. It wasn’t fair– wasn’t just that you had given your heart for him to throw around. However, his voice stopped you from making your appearance known; it was firm– angry.

“The fate of the multiverse depends on me,” He started off and it takes all the strength in Peter to not roll his eyes, “I do not have time to be in a relationship– let alone be with someone as soft-hearted as y/n.”

It was like a strike to the gut and you only want the ground to swallow you whole now. Your legs threatened to buckle, begging you to leave but you couldn’t. It was wrong of you to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help it; His words were answering every question you had in mind in the worst way possible, breaking you apart and squashing every butterfly that fluttered inside your stomach.

“Just what do you mean about that?” Peter comes to your defense, shoulders stiffened.

“I do not need someone weighing me down.”

Peter was having none of it— absolutely did not believe every word that fell from his lips. He knew it was love; the lingering stares, the small touches. He wasn’t a fool to ignore the signs, Miguel just needed a push. “But you tolerate her more than the others! You like being around her!”

“Peter, just leave it.” Jess attempts to calm the escalating tension, but her words seem to fall on deaf ears as Miguel speaks again.

“Isn’t it our job to endure? What’s another headache to tolerate?” He said before finally looking away, ready to walk out. “Now stop asking because I have enough of having her around. Don’t make me talk about her too.”

What he didn't expect was that you were already standing in his path, cheeks wet with tears and lips pressed together in a deep frown. His heart sank as he took your presence in, letting it seep like a rain of needles. The realization had hit him like a bag of bricks. You had heard their conversation– heard every single thing he said.

You quickly wiped away your tears, focusing on anything but the face of the one who caused them. You couldn’t bear to look into his eyes, not when he had you clutching your chest as you listened. It threatened to leap out, pounding against your ribs. “Yeah Peter, I think he said enough.”

“Amor,” He had whispered, walking towards you only for you to step backward in return.

You had left the scene and the shame that swallowed him was nothing compared to the embarrassment he swore was unbearable. Miguel is of many things; stoic, cold-blooded, mean. And they were right– all of it.

#alrighty honey ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara angst #atsv angst #across the spider verse angst

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innuendostudios · 4 months

Text

youtube

New video essay! On the Reverse Gish Gallop - how conservatives can ignore 90% of your argument and still appear to be winning.

If you would like more of this, subscribe to Nebula and/or back me on Patreon!

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, you’re watching a political debate on TV. The conservative candidate has used their opening arguments to dump a truckload of dubious claims on their opponent. You recognize this maneuver: that’s the Gish Gallop! The debater makes point after dubious point, and, if the other debater doesn’t rebut every single one, they will appear to have lost the argument. These points don’t have to be good or hard to disprove, there just has to be a lot of them.

Oh, but what’s this? The liberal candidate seems to have come prepared! That’s new! They succinctly and efficiently dismantle each of their opponent’s arguments, offering a clear rebuttal to every single one. It’s obviously not the first time they’ve heard this particular gallop. So, the conservative’s petard has just fully hoisted them. [“What a hoisting!”] They’ve just lost their own game and have to go on the defensive… right?

Turns out, no! The conservative points to a minor error - maybe the liberal said their program would cost $40 million but is actually estimated to cost 43 - and treats them as an ignorant sap who can’t even count correctly. That is now the subject, everything else has been forgotten, and the liberal is backpedaling.

Wait, you exclaim, how does that work?! The liberal has to rebut each and every point but the conservative takes issue with one and stays in the driver’s seat? Are audiences fooled by this? Are liberals that easily snookered? The answer may shock you!

You’ve just borne witness to The Reverse Gish Gallop, where an entire argument falls apart if any of it can be disputed. These disputes, again, don’t have to be good, they just have to call the airtightness of the argument into question.

A good example is how conservatives obsess over gaffes. (Which, fuckin’... really guys?? [W, Trump]) Some Democrat will be all “conservatives want to shut down post offices as a form of vote suppression; they’re pushing voter ID laws and the post office is where many people get IDs; also we are relying more and more heavily on mail-in voting; they overwhelmingly try to shut down offices in Black and Latine neighborhoods; a lot of services like healthcare and courts still use physical mail by default and there can be serious consequences to getting it late; many elderly people still don’t use email, and, hey, maybe some of them like getting junk mail” “AH BA BA BA THAT’S IT THAT’S YOUR WHOLE LIFE NOW FOR THE REST OF YOUR CAREER YOU’RE THE ASSHOLE WHO SAID OLD PEOPLE LIKE JUNK MAIL.”

Your mistake was assuming that dishonest people abide by the same rules they impose on everyone else. When I was a teenager, some friends of the family would invite me along when they asked my parents to dinner, because I would play with their five-year-old and let the grown-ups chat in peace. And he’d make up games where we’d bat a balloon back and forth or whatever, and change the rules on the fly when it suited him. Because the rule wasn’t actually “you can only touch the balloon once per turn;” the rule was “Andrew wins.”

The purpose of a Gish Gallop is to establish a narrative not through argument or logic but force and volume. Once established, it takes a lot less effort for them to maintain than for you to establish a new one. If they shake confidence in your argument, the audience will often revert to the previous argument, whether or not that one was ever proven. It’s a not about which story is true, it’s about who sets the parameters for all stories going forward; who got there first. This is not a debate; this is a Zerg Rush. Understand: a dishonest argument is Lego - you haven’t dismantled it until every brick is separated. But an honest rebuttal? An honest rebuttal is Jenga.

#video essay #alt-right playbook #Youtube

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tumbleweed-run · 8 months

Note

Request for reader finding some of Gale's erotica and, based off said literature, getting taken in a most ungentlemanly fashion? 👉👈

Oh nonny, I love this idea terribly! Conveniently this also fits for today's kinktober theme.

A Novel Idea

(18+, Explicit)

You hadn’t lived in Waterdeep long, but it didn’t take long to realize wandering about the Dock Ward at night wasn’t your best idea. Tonight ‘night’ seemed like an understatement, even the moon and stars had retreated behind heavy clouds. You relied solely on the lights streaming from various taverns and home windows to keep your path.

You weren’t far from home when the hairs on your neck stood on end. Someone was following you. Pulling up the hood on your cloak, you quickened your pace, not to an outright run but enough that it might make a difference. You thought it did. Thought it would.

You’d been wrong before.

It wasn’t so much a push as it was being barreled into and shoved down an alley. You dig your feet in trying to slow the momentum of your body but to no avail. The brick wall before you was as unforgiving as the force at your back as you’re pressed into it.

“Well, well, there aren’t many brave enough to be wandering around here in the dark,” a voice hums into your ear.

“Brave is just one of the many things I am,” you bite back trying to gain purchase on the wall before you, trying to push back.

The body that flattens against you is larger than your own. It pins you against the brick, you’re unable to get your arms underneath you. You still your struggles, no use in wasting your energy.

“I’ll leave you be if you’ll be so kind as to hand me your coin purse,” He’s not moving now, just pinning you to the wall with his body.

Gale is staring at you with a look of shock. The book (his book might you add) is held loosely in his hand.

“You, want this?” He asks again gesturing at you with the book now.

You nodded, lip worried between your teeth. You hadn’t meant to bring it up, at least not without a solid plan. But he’d teased you for how your cheeks had heated as you read a particularly scandalous part of that very same novel.

Gale’s eyes go distant, and you’re convinced he’ll tell you no, that this is beyond his willingness to indulge you in your fantasies. You wait him out, though, let him come to his conclusion on his own.

“I won't hurt you,” he says finally.

It’s not a no, so you take your chance. “Of course not, and neither does he… not really,” you remind him. The villain turned seducer in the story had only frightened his maiden, never truly hurt her.

“We’ll need some way for you to tell me you’re done,” Gale admits, still not meeting your gaze.

It’s your turn to be hesitant now. “Gale, if this isn’t something you want. Say it and I swear I’ll never bring it up again,” you promise grabbing for his hand.

He laces his fingers through yours and finally looks at you. “As strange as it is, I must admit I can see the appeal.” The words are spoken low, as if he’s revealing a secret to you.

He might as well be.

“If I give you my coin purse, or even mention coins that will be my cue that I want it to end.” You assure him.

“You promise?” he squeezes your hand before pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Yes,” you grin.

“No,” you growl.

You begin trying to twist your body away from him once more but he simply leans into you. It’s taken almost no effort for him to subdue you. You swallow harshly against that realization.

The lips are back at your ear. “If not your coin then, my lady, I shall have to take something.”

“I have nothing else for you.” You’d meant to sound defiant, strong, but instead the works came out half-whispered.

He chuckles and then shifts so his weight is off of you, not gone though. He’s caging you in still with his arms and his body at your back. One of those arms moves now and skillfully undoes the broach holding your cloak closed.

You shiver as the material falls to your feet, the cool night air already pushing in through your clothes.

“I think you have plenty for me.” His lips are so close to your neck that you can feel them brush your skin as he speaks.

His hand returns, resting atop your collarbone. Not quite at your neck but there, like a warning. You swallow harshly once again.

“Perhaps that’s what you want,” he say mockingly, finally letting his lips drop to your neck with a kiss.

His hand trails lower on your chest until he’s cupping your breast through your shirt. The fabric seems impossibly thinner now than it had less than an hour ago.

“After all what lady goes walking alone at this hour except those looking for trouble,” he continues. His fingers are seeking out your nipple now with teasing brushes against it.

The kisses he’s pressing against your neck will certainly bruise by morning but you can’t help but to arch your neck more.

He pinches your nipple and you whimper. He chuckles against your neck.

His hand shifts, seeking your other breast. His thumb brushes up against your already hard nipple. He pinches it again without warning. This time when you moan you can’t help but roll your hips back into him. He’s hard against your ass.

“So that is what you were after,” he’s teasing again, both with his words and his fingers. “Willing to risk your life just to be touched.”

“No,” you argue, “I was just going home.”

“With no protection? No strong husband to keep you safe?” His hand abandons your breast to begin a decent downward.

His hips are grinding against you freely now and you can feel just how hard he is with each roll. You bite your lip to hold back another whimper. He chooses this moment to gather your skirt in his fist and press it between your legs. With another roll of his hips he sends you grinding against the fabric, sweet friction against your already throbbing clit.

“No,” it’s less of a word and more of a moan. You shake your head, hair undoubtedly smacking his face. “No husband, I can protect myself.”

“Perhaps you can,” he groans against your skin, “but this situation tells me otherwise.”

He’s still thrusting against you, forcing you to grind against his hand and the fabric balled inside of it. You’re up on your tiptoes now trying to change the angle, unabashedly seeking more friction.

“You can’t have it both ways, my lady. You can’t both be on an innocent evening stroll and able to protect yourself, given the position I have you in,” he reminds you of exactly what positon he’s talking about with another firm roll of his hips.

Before you can argue against his words he’s begun hiking the skirt of your dress up until he can slide his hand beneath it. His fingers, cooled by the night air, immediately seek out your cunt. You cry out as he slips them between your folds to press firmly against your clit, the cool air a shock to your nerves.

“There’s no denying this,” he teases, fingers rubbing against you. The wet sounds betraying whatever words you’d meant to say. “Admit it,” he growls lips pressed to your ear.

“Please,” you whimper, hips chasing after his touch.

You almost lose balance and crash forward into the wall but his other arm comes around your waist to catch you.

“Admit it,” he says again fingers now touching everywhere but where you want them.

“I want you,” you admit but it’s apparently not what he’s looking for because he still refuses to touch you. “Please,” you cry out, “I want you to fuck me.”

“That's not so hard, is it,” he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

His fingers leave you even though you’ve said what he wanted to hear. Before you can morn their loss the arm around your waist lifts you into the air a second before swinging you down towards the ground. You’re forced to brace your arms out in front of you as you make contact roughly with the alley floor.

“Ow,” You cry out despite not meaning to, there will be scrapes on your palms now.

Just as quickly as you’d been tossed to the floor you’re lifted up onto your knees again, back against his chest. Somehow he’d knelt with you.

“All you have to do is give me your coin,” he reminds you, “and I’ll leave. No harm done to you or your reputation.”

You shake your head vigorously, “I won’t give it to you.”

You barely feel his lips against the side of your head before he’s pushing you back down onto your hands.

He flips up your skirt, exposing you to the alley and the night air. You’re not sure which one makes you shiver more. He runs his hands down your ass to your thighs before spreading the lips of your cunt with his thumbs. You only realize you’re shaking when he presses one of those thumbs inside you.

You fight the urge to press back into it.

He slicks his thumb back out and runs it up and down until he bumps into your clit. You whimper and aren’t able to keep your body from chasing after his touch. His hands leave you then but you hear the sounds of his pants being undone.

“Such a pretty thing,” he says reverently and then you feel the warmth of his cock resting against your entrance, “waiting to be taken in an alley like a whore.”

“Please,” you whine trying to push back onto him.

He won't let you and instead leans away to keep you from touching him. You cry out in frustration, head dropping down.

Suddenly there’s a hand tangled through your hair, drawing your head back up. Its a firm tug but only painful if you resist. And you do, but only for a moment before allowing him to pull you so you’re forced to look ahead. Forcing you to look around at the barely visible alley around you.

Only then does it press into you. There’s no teasing now, no waiting, no soft touches. He thrusts into you until you’re pressed back against his hips. Your cunt flutters around him at the sudden intrusion. It's a stinging sensation, not pleasurable really, but you don’t mind because he’s finally inside of you.

He sits that way for a few heartbeats before drawing out only to thrust back in against. It’s a firm rhythm he finds, hand still woven in your hair to keep you from drifting away with each thrust. You can feel small stones biting into your knees, undoubtedly they’ll be bruised and bloody by the time he’s finished.

He begins grunting with each thrust and you realize he’s getting close.

Your hair is released without warning and you can barely stop it from falling forward.

“Touch yourself,” he orders, both hands grabbing your hips, “I want you to come on my cock in this alley.”

You find yourself only too eager to obey. Fingers finding a rhythm that matches the near brutal pace he’s now fucking into you. You’re so close you can’t breathe. The grip on your hips becomes almost painful.

“I need you to come,” he growls, fingertips digging into your flesh.

And you do with a cry. Hips slamming back to meet his so the only thing you can hear aside from your own cries is the sound of your skin slapping against one another. He grunts as he comes, pulling you back against him so you can’t move away as he spills inside of you.

You remain like that until your heartbeat has approached a more normal rhythm. As he slides out of you he pulls you back onto his lap. Hands smoothing out your skirts so you’re hidden once more from the night.

“My mad, beautiful, love,” Gale whispers pressing kisses against the side of your head.

You laugh as you lean into his kisses. After a moment you’re shifted onto the ground once more, but so much gentler this time you feel your heart near bursting.

With a groan that you absolutely don’t grin at, Gale stands and tucks himself back into his pants. But before you can even think of trying to join him he’s lifted you into his arms, one hand producing your long-forgotten cloak.

You drop the cloak into your lap before draping your arms around his neck. “My noble wizard,” you mumble against his lips before pressing a kiss to them.

He leads you further into the alley and to a door hidden deep in shadows. As he pushes it open, you realize this is the alley alongside your own home. The door swings open into your warmly lit kitchen, the smell of dinner from earlier still lingering heavily in the room.

You bury your face in Gale’s neck to hide the smile painted across your lips.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x reader #gale x tav #kinktober 2023 #kinktober prompt roleplaying

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ohtobeleah · 2 months

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Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter Two: [Like A Brick]

Summary: With the weight of the world sitting on your shoulders, you confide in the gentle soul that is Bob Floyd. Also known as, your first kiss.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Witness Protection F!reader. Platonic Bob Floyd x F!reader. Mentions of death. Mentions of drowning.

Word Count: 2.8k

Author Note: I'm Back! To get back into the swing of things I thought this little chapter would do us good. although this chapter is mainly focused on Bob and Brewer, we, being @a-reader-and-a-writer and myself, thought it deserved its own moment to really capture the significance of the shared secrets.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Being caught deep in swirling memories wasn’t something out of the ordinary for you. Being swept along with the tide, the waves of which push and pull your mind between present times and your past. The very idea of being caught between realities, a paradoxical space between now and then always seemed to be better than the alternative. Live through hell.

“My mum says I’m too young to kiss girls.”

Thoughts of who you could have been and thoughts of who you became push together to create a constant state of flight. Nostalgia is like a whirlpool that you drown in deep inside your mind. You’re unable to tread water as you feel the waves breaking against your skin, forcing you under as you gasp for air. What good were those swimming lessons you were forced to partake in as a child?

“Do you tell your mum everything, Bobby?”

Your mind becomes an unblended mix of memories you’d like to replay on repeat, and those you’d like to hide. Nothing ever seemed simple anymore. Not even the memory of your first kiss. The memory that you’d once considered colourful was now shrouded in forced denial. It couldn’t have happened, for you weren’t Y/n Y/l/n anymore.

“What’re you still doing here?” It has been a long night, so long the sun had just started to kiss the horizon as you made your final lap around the front and back decks of the Hard Deck. Bob sat patiently waiting on one of the picnic tables, typing away something on his phone.

Your voice must have startled him, but you’d never make fun of the way the Back Seater jumped enough to knock the chair his boot-clad feet were resting on into the small outdoor pot plant that sat beside the table. You watched it rock back and forth before steadying itself once again, like a boi floating in the current. That same current that had on many occasions, tried to drag you under.

“I thought for sure you would have been the first one out the door?” You followed up on your initial question as you collected an empty glass you’d missed. Bob pocketed his phone with a tired smile as he looked your way.

“Fanboy’s still in the bathroom with Payback–” Bob explained softly as he looked your way. “Big night, someone had to be the deso though.” You could see it in Bob’s eyes, the colour of a clear blue sky through a broken prison wall. He wanted to ask, wanted to bring it up. He knew you were lying, but why was the biggest question.

“I was gonna call them and the other stragglers a taxi—“ Only a handful of patrons remained inside the Hard Deck as you went about your closing duties. Usually, you would have kicked them out by now. You weren’t necessarily one to want to hang about with people possibly lurking in the shadows. But two-thirds of the stragglers left behind were none other than two-sevenths of the Hard Decks top contributors. “If I had known you were coming back for them I would have told you not to worry,” The chuckle that left Bob’s voice at your statement was undeniably genuine. “I would have sent them home with vomit bags tucked into their back pockets too.”

“That’s why they pay you top dollar I guess?” Ever since Bob first saw you behind the bar that very first night, he knew he knew you. It wasn’t some distant memory of a forgotten past for Robert Floyd. The memory of his first kiss was an easy one to recall from the rolodex inside his mind. It just so happened to be a core memory that unlocked a whole other category of life’s simplest pleasures. But the more you denied its existence, or more specifically denied you were the one who ultimately shared in that childhood memory, Bob wasn’t sure if he’d dreamt the whole thing or not.

Perhaps his first kiss came a hell of a lot later in life than he always thought.

“Top dollar?” You had to stifle your laugh as you joined Bob on the picnic table. As you sat with a small huff, you knocked your knee against his playfully. “Please, but the tips are good.”

There was a heavy silence so deafening that washed over the two of you not too long after you finished speaking. Its gravity felt like an intense pressure forcing itself down against your chest. The longer you and Bob sat there in pure silence, the more time slipped unwillingly through your fingertips, the more your heart beat faster inside your chest.

The silence magnified the pressure mounting, and the scale of your anxiety all felt like it was about to come to a boiling point. As you sat there next to Bob in shared silence, it felt as if the world had turned once again on its axis, and you were just a few short seconds away from falling off the face of the earth.

“I have a small confession to make,” It wasn’t ever supposed to be aired in the open, but the guilt that sat heavily on your conscience was making it harder and harder to keep lying. For three years you had told not a single soul, but Bob Floyd had created a paradox of inner turmoil you weren’t prepared to harbour. “To be perfectly honest it isn’t all that small of a confession.”

“Brewer,” Bob sighed almost reluctantly. The last thing he ever wanted to do was force someone into sharing intimate details of their life. “If there’s a reason why you keep denying it, I’m sure it’s a good one,” Bob had thought about this long and hard, there surely had to be a reason why. He was adamant that you were the girl who kissed him all those years ago. That yellow pigment in your eye was the dead giveaway. He couldn’t ever forget looking into the eyes of the girl who had pressed her cotton candy-flavoured lips against his for three point-five seconds. “And you don’t have to tell me that reason, but, at least tell me, I’m not crazy.”

Again, the silence was deafening as you sat with your secrets for the last few moments. Only a handful of people knew, all of whom were involved in keeping you safe and working your witness protection case. If news got out that you had told someone intimate, key details of your current situation, you’d be forced to restart a whole new life once again. But Bob was different. He was worth the risk for an ounce of normality.

“You aren’t crazy,” It was all the confirmation Bob needed, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to share your personal hell. “I uh, I remember.” You hadn’t told a single soul in three years. You’d been through a thousand things in your life that people didn’t know about. You had experienced things that would shock them if you mentioned the horrors. Those things changed you. Hell—they broke you.

“Bob, I haven’t been Y/n Y/l/n in a little over three years now,” You hung your head low as you spoke, almost like you were afraid that if you looked anywhere but between your feet, you’d see the bloodied and bruised ghost of your dead husband. “I, uh,—saw some things that I shouldn’t have,” The shake in your voice was hard to mask, the sting in your eyes burned like ice against your skin. “I thought that maybe I should tell someone about what I saw, and when I did that I—“

“Brewer,” Bob's voice was soft enough to be barely audible, but you heard him. “You’re in witness protection, aren’t you?” Bob took your immediate silence and broken sob as a definitive yes. He couldn’t even say the idea hadn’t crossed his mind after all the shutdowns and denial.

“I lost my family,” You had a taste of what true love felt like. To experience such an emotion was the greatest gift of all. You loved your son, Charlie, to the moon and back. So much so that you wished every night you let your head fall against your pillow, that you’d be reunited. “I was set to testify against the company I worked for in some whistleblower trial, but the day before I was set to take the stand, we were run off the road.”

Bob sat silently beside you just taking everything you were saying in. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be in your shoes. To some degree, he almost felt guilty for all the times he couldn’t let the kiss memory go. Every time he brought it up in hopes you’d finally cave and give him the validation he was looking for, it probably felt like an old wound being ripped open.

“You have to understand that I don’t get a choice very often over who I let in,” You finally had to look up, and when you did? Bob was already looking at you. You could see the sympathy plastered across his face in your peripheral. “You can’t tell anyone, and I know it’s a burden to bear, believe me,” The tears had begun to fall long ago and seemed to never stop, but when you finally worked up enough courage to look toward the backseater who sat beside you, your tears were mirrored. “And I know it’s unfair to burden you with such a thing,” The very idea that Bob was now one of the very few people who knew about your situation didn’t taste all that great, but you couldn’t take it back now. You couldn’t shove your secrets back into the can you’d just released them from in a moment of vulnerability. “But please, you can’t tell anyone.”

Bob Floyd was, if anything, a wallflower. He didn’t like being the centre of attention. If he could, Bob would happily spend any time he had off work in the comfort of his own home. He’d spend his free time working on the world map puzzle that had been sitting half-finished on his coffee table for months. But Bob never got to spend those free moments working on his hobbies, no. His found family more often than not would drag him to the Hard Deck. Most of the time Bob would settle into the background and try his best not to draw attention to himself, he couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like to stand in the middle of a crowded room and not be seen for who you really were.

“Nothin’ to tell Brewer,” Bob shrugged his shoulders. “And even if there was? I’m not the gossip type.”

That very fact gentled your soul. All you could do as the overwhelming sense of loneliness overtook you was sob. Bob let you lean your head on his shoulder. His arm soon found itself wrapped around you as your sobs grew stronger and more pained. Tears stained your cheeks as the trails they made collected the makeup you wore, leaving clear indications of distress behind.

“You know there was this girl,” Bob wondered if now was an appropriate time to share his own darkest secret. The idea of maybe holding onto something so important to one another may have softened the blow of knowing Bob held your greatest secrets in the palm of his hand. Perhaps if he shared his own with you, that feeling, that heaviness he knew you felt, would be a little easier to live with. “Her name was Bieanna, everyone back home called her Brick though.”

You had to collect yourself enough to get your breath back before you could speak. Bob understood that. He sat in the silence broken with gentle sobs that softened as more time passed. He wanted until you were ready to speak.

“What did everyone call her Brick?” The question came out easily enough, but the way Bob stiffened at the question as you raised your head from his shoulder made you question if it was harder to hear than to ask.

“She never learnt how to swim–” Bob mumbled as he looked out into the empty car park of the Hard Deck. “If she tried she’d sink–” He waited for you to finish the sentence, and you did.

“Like a Brick.” The realisation wasn’t hard to notice in your saddened eyes. If anything, Bob wondered if he had to continue his story of tragedy or not. You were a smart girl, he knew you could put two and two together. But he wanted to share, he wanted to let you know you could trust him wholeheartedly with your secrets. And you with his.

“Bingo,” Bob smiled softly as you whipped your tears from your heated cheeks. “She ended up drowning a few months after we started dating.”

“Oh, Bob.” Your heart ached for the Back Seater who sat beside you. “I’m so sorry.”

“The worst part is I could have done more to save her,” Bob pressed his lips into a fine line of guilt. “She’d been going great guns for a few weeks while I was teaching her how to swing on her family’s property just outside of town,” Bob could very clearly still remember the taste of the dirt-laced water he’d ingested trying to save her. He could still see the panic in her eyes. “She got her foot stuck in some weeds at the bottom of the damn, panicked, and despite everything I did, I couldn’t save her,”

“It wasn’t your fault, Bob–”

“It was my idea to teach her own to swim though,” Bob admitted as he let his elbows rest on top of his knees. “I don’t ask people to swim anymore, and I’ve never told anyone about the fact she sometimes visits me in my dreams,” Bob explained as he let out a sigh that he wasn’t aware he’d been holding in. “But now you know, and now the secrets we keep don’t seem so heavy.”

The very idea of knowing one of Bob’s longest-kept secrets made you feel a little better about him knowing yours. You trusted Bob, there was no doubt about it. But that gesture of solidarity made you feel safe, trusted.

“No one can know, Bob,” You finished the conversation at that, faking a small smile as Fanboy and Payback came barreling out through the front doors of the Hard Deck. You were instantly on your feet, back in work mode as you wiped away the remaining tears that stained your cheeks.

Bob watched on from his perch on top of the picnic table as you attempted to wrangle the two drunk and disorderly men who could barely tell which way was up and what way was down. He let a few moments pass as he watched on, allowing your life-altering, world-shattering secrets to plague his mind with what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. The very idea that there were people in this world after you didn’t sit well with him. The fact you’d been living a stranger’s life for three years made him want to hug his mother a little tighter the next time he got the chance to see her. He couldn’t begin to imagine to heartache of losing a child, but he knew enough of grief to know what losing a significant other could do to a person.

And for someone who had experienced the worst of what life had to offer, you still saw the very best in people.

“Alright you two drunks, let’s get you two home in one piece,” You chuckled as you walked the aviators over towards where Bob sat. “Taxi’s waiting and the meters running.”

“You’ve given us alcohol poisoning, Brewer,” Payback mumbled as he stumbled with you over to where Bob was. Bob stood with a groan to collect Fanboy from beside you.

“Oh piss off, will ya Reuben–your liver will thank me for cutting you off when you did,” you teased as you handed the men over to Bob with ease. “Get these two home safe Floyd.”

“Will do Brewer.” Bob's soft smile and kind-natured nod was all you needed in response to know he meant his words. “Have a good night, or morning I guess.”

You watched on from the veranda as the three men walked across the sandy car park and over to Bob’s Suzuki, knowing that the next time you saw Bob amongst his Squadron—there would be no mention of that first kiss.

***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags: 🏷️ @a-reader-and-a-writer @xoxabs88xox @hiireadstuff @buckysteveloki-me @athenabarnes @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @na-ta-sh-aa @kmc1989 @sunlightmurdock @mamachasesmayhem @jaxfart @lauenderhaze @sugarcoated-lame @maisie-rebloging-blog @captainmoonknight @seitmai @shanimallina87 @kajjaka @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @imladrisofabookdragon @buckysteveloki-me @mrsevans90 @allepaula @els-marvelvsp @djs8891 @paperbag33

#secret sacrifices // jake seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #bob floyd #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman fic

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soullumii · 6 months

Text

it's a risk but babe, i need the thrill | joel miller x f!reader

part 1, part 2

summary: everything finally comes to a head

warnings: 18+!!! smut! unprotected piv, gentle smut

tags: angst, reconciliation, fluff, pining, smut (but it's light compared to the other two parts), halloween vibes (i was supposed to finish this in october, oops)

word count: 5.8k

a/n: guys. i am SO SORRY for the wait. this was so hard for me to finish i almost gave up so many times. i'm still unhappy with this but i can't make myself work on it anymore so here u go. thank you all so much for your patience, i really appreciate it. special thank you to @joelsfaveouritegirl for your support... i probably would've never finished this if it weren't for you, so thank you. <3. and thanks to all of you who kept me accountable. i hope you enjoy this fucking mess. also, this is probably the last joel fic i'll write for a while. i'm sorry. still, i hope you like this.

______________________________________________________________

There are only two seasons in Jackson, Wyoming: winter and not winter.

Where other states might have a gradual shift from warm to cold, in Wyoming, it’s like a slap to the face, quite literally. The moment you step into the evening October air, it feels as if you’ve walked into a wall of cold.

You shiver in your thick coat, and pull your scarf over your frosty nose as you meander down to the plaza.

While Jackson residents enjoy their time indoors and close to the fireplace during the colder months, they still love to celebrate outdoors, relying on their booze to keep them warm.

You don’t stop by Joel’s for a drink this time, he’s likely already in town square, dragged there by his daughter. Or… sort of daughter. He’s told you how he feels about Ellie, but the girl has her own opinions. Sure, she might deny that he’s like her dad, but she sure as hell treats him like he is.

You’re meeting them there.

The stars are already twinkling in the sky when you reach the throng of people. All of Jackson’s residents are in the plaza tonight for Halloween, dressed in homemade costumes and ones raided from the Party City in Idaho Falls. Jack-o-lanterns glow menacingly in corners and scarecrows are propped against brick walls. A few people in particularly frightening costumes prowl about, startling kids and adults alike.

Stalls line the edges of the plaza, each one providing something different. Tipsy Bison’s stall is run by Tommy, serving alcohol for the adults of the town. Seth’s stall is serving pork and brisket sandwiches. There’s a few stalls down the road advertising pumpkins and pastries, and you get a whiff of apple cider. Barrels of fire are scattered about to provide warmth. Lights are strung from the roofs of buildings, spread across the road, like clothes on a clothesline.

It’s incredibly cozy, and already, you feel much warmer than you did walking out of your house.

Within moments of passing Seth’s stall you hear Ellie’s voice ring out.

“She's here!”

You can’t see her weaving through the crowd but you can see Joel trailing behind, his arm trapped in front of him. He politely excuses himself and apologizes to those he bumps into as his daughter drags him through a crowd of people.

You can’t help but laugh, especially when you hear him say, “Jesus, kid, slow down.”

And then she’s in front of you, smiling and bouncing excitedly on her heels, dressed as one of the superheroes from the comics she reads. Joel is behind her wearing a black blindfold with the eyes cut out, and a felt superhero crest is stitched to the front of his black sweater. He looks very adorable. Clearly, Ellie forced him to dress up. His gaze catches yours, full of something you can’t quite grasp, a small, embarrassed smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he says, voice soft.

“Hi,” you repeat.

It’s been… well… you’re not quite sure how to describe how it’s been since you told him to stop kissing you.

It’s not like you guys have stopped seeing each other since then. Or that it’s been more awkward or anything. It just feels as if you’ve been depriving your body of what it needs, like you’re actively starving yourself.

You’d feel full while he was fucking you, and yet there was a hole in your chest, gnawing at your thoughts, a hunger so deep rooted that it’s been taking you longer to come.

Joel had noticed, too. Noticed your struggle and your frustration. He took it as something he was doing wrong, even though you insisted that wasn’t the case. Still, he took his time with you, trying to meet all your needs, and that, funnily enough, just made you feel worse.

Your meetings have grown fewer. Sometimes you would go a couple weeks without seeing each other—at least like that. Funny, how before you were so upset when he hadn’t been with you for a while. And now… now the distance is needed.

You still went out to dinner with him and Tommy and Maria. You still stopped by to say hi to Ellie and ask Joel how he’s been. Things have been normal, besides the overwhelming feeling of longing that strikes your breast the moment you see him.

You worry that it shows on your face, especially because of the dreams you’ve been having, like some lovesick teenager. Dreams that don’t involve just having sex. Dreams that frame the two of you as lovers, as parents as… growing old together.

Sometimes you’ll wake up crying, wondering if maybe you should just stop seeing him, talking to him, being around him all together. But then you’ll see him in town, or on patrols, and you know you’d never be able to stay away.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, and turn your attention to Ellie.

“Hey kiddo!” You greet, plastering a smile on. She doesn’t seem to notice your being off.

“You’re not dressed up,” she remarks, arms crossing over her chest.

“Um. Yes I am,” you gesture to your black sweater and black pants. “I’m a black cat.”

“You don’t even have ears or whiskers and a nose. That's a terrible costume.”

Joel squeezes her shoulder with a frown. “Hey, quit.”

“No, she’s fine. She’s right,” you sigh. “This was super last minute.”

“Cat is doing face painting down by the haunted house. You should let her paint some whiskers on you.”

You take a glance at Joel and he shrugs. God he looks ridiculous in that costume. Your heart constricts. You might as well be as ridiculous as him.

“That sounds great,” you say. Ellie looks like she’s about to drag you there when Dina comes running around the corner, practically slamming into her.

“Hey!” Ellie laughs, “Slow down.”

“You have to come with me. We’re going to do the haunted house, Jesse is already waiting for us. Come on,” Dina says, and pulls Ellie away before you and Joel can say a thing.

The two of you stand there for a moment, watching the kids with fond smiles before finally looking at each other.

His gaze seems to soften impossibly more when it lands on you.

“Your costume is kinda lame,” he says after a moment.

“Oh shut up.”

The paintbrush glides smoothly over your skin as Cat paints the tip of your nose black and whiskers on your cheeks. You keep sneaking glances at Joel who waits patiently for your face painting session to finish.

Once you’re done you stride over to him, grinning.

“Well?” You prompt, turning around and showing off your newly improved costume. “Not so lame anymore, huh?”

He chuckles, eyes roaming your figure. Heat simmers low in your belly at the glint in his dark eyes. “Much better.”

He pauses, eyes catching on your face. “Hey, wait.” He grabs your hand and pulls you in close. He’s warm, a nice contrast to the cool October air. You want to just snuggle up to him, wriggle your fingers up under his sweater to share his warmth.

“You got a little somethin’…” he trails off, hand coming up to press his thumb to your skin. He gently wipes off a stray black smudge from beneath your eye. It takes no less than five seconds, yet it feels like an eternity. Your chest presses into his, his hand is warm as it cups your cheek. His breath puffs against your lips, an almost kiss. And his eyes, focused so dearly on the smudge, slowly drift up to lock with yours.

“Perfect,” he mumbles, gaze never straying from yours. His hand never leaves your cheek, his thumb brushing carefully below your eye once more, a soft, subconscious caress now.

“Thanks,” you breathe.

Time feels like it’s stopped.

A kid rushes by with a delighted scream as another kid in a costume chases after him. You and Joel jolt apart, snapped back into motion.

He clears his throat and you swallow hard.

“You want somethin’ to drink?” he asks.

“Yes, please.”

***

Tommy is beaming with his own little flush of alcohol when you and Joel come across his stall.

Maria hangs by his side, but her eyes follow every action happening around you. Ever the diligent leader.

“Howdy,” Tommy says, and Maria takes the time to glance over at the two of you with a welcoming smile.

“Hey,” Joel says, and you nod your head in greeting.

“You guys lookin’ for a drink?” Tommy asks. “We’ve got spiked apple cider.”

You bounce excitedly on your toes at that. Joel laughs lightly at the way your expression brightens. “We’ll take two.”

“Comin’ right up.”

“You’ve done a great job planning for this, Maria. Everything looks amazing,” you say.

She turns to you, and to your surprise, she looks a bit bashful. “Thanks. Everyone on the council helped a lot. I’m glad we can provide something fun like this.”

“The kids really need it.”

“I think the adults do, too. It’s nice to be able to scream without it being true fear.”

“Amen to that,” Tommy pipes up and sets two mugs of steaming spiked apple cider down.

“Thanks, Tommy,” Joel says, and hands you a mug.

“There’s a haunted house down the road, you guys should go check it out. Laney and Paul spent a long time on it,” Maria says.

“We will, thanks. See you guys around!”

You wave goodbye to them and make your way through the plaza. Joel’s hand finds the small of your back, warm and steady. You’re glad for it, as scarers prowl along the streets, jumping out randomly and thrusting their hands in your face.

The haunted house lingers at the edge of the road like a ghost. Party City decorations blot the yard: gravestones, plastic skeletons, witches with rotted cloaks. It’s like everything they could manage to carry was dumped here.

A line curves outside the door, kids bouncing on their feet as they await their turns. You feel a little ridiculous joining them, being your age, but Joel probably feels even more ridiculous so you push the thought from your mind.

“I’m actually kind of nervous,” you tell him as screams ring out from within the house.

“This thing ain’t nearly as terrifyin’ as the real world,” Joel says.

“Yeah, but still. I’ve never been a fan of being scared.”

Joel takes a sip of his spiked apple cider and shrugs. “I’ll protect ya.”

“My hero,” you coo and run your hand over the superhero crest stitched to his chest. He smiles.

Soon enough you’re at the door.

“You go first,” you tell Joel, and shove him in front of you, but you don’t let go of him.

"Good to know you're not afraid to throw me to the wolves."

"Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

He rolls his eyes but lets you fist one of your hands in his sweater and hold onto his arm with the other. You peer around him as the two of you venture inside.

A radio plays spooky sounds from all directions as you trail behind Joel through the house. Your eyes flit across every crevice, searching for who is going to scare you. Still, you don’t notice everything.

From seemingly nowhere, someone pops out in a Michael Meyers mask with a fake knife. You screech and hold tight to Joel. He hardly even flinches.

“How are you so chill?” you ask with a pout once you’ve recovered. Red lights flash in the hallway. Your voice is shaking. God, you’re a wimp.

“Because I’ve got someone I need to protect. I can’t act all scared, now, can I?”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s just making shit up. He’s not scared at all.

You get closer and closer to him as the house progresses. Your hands are now interlinked, your cheek pressed against the warm muscle of his shoulder blades. You’re practically on top of him, trying to stay as close as possible.

Even with Joel acting so nonchalant, you’re scared. You get jump scared a few more times as you continue, thankful that your hands are preoccupied with holding onto Joel else you might’ve punched one of the scarers.

Eventually you make it to the end in one piece, your heart racing. You know it’s ridiculous—Ellie probably got through this with a straight face. Still, it’s kind of fun, being scared. You’re giggling into Joel’s sweater by the end of it, and he’s tucked you into his side, hand still interlocked with yours as you meander back to the plaza.

Warmth blossoms in your chest. Is this what it would be like if you were truly together? You feel the urge to push up on your toes to kiss him, but you shove it down. Guilt tugs at the back of your mind at the thought.

“You’re such a scaredy cat, I guess that costume is fittin’,” he muses, rubbing warmth into your waist.

“Sorry we can’t all be macho men like you."

You go to pull away, to create some distance. You can’t keep getting close to him like this. It weighs too heavily on your heart. But Joel squeezes your hand and tugs you back into his side, and you’re so very weak. You melt into him despite yourself.

“I think you rather like my macho-ness,” he says.

Heat pools in your belly at the smirk on his face, the darkness in his eyes. You avert your gaze with a small smile, warmth coloring your cheeks. “Yeah right.”

He turns toward you, towering over you. His hand splays heavily on your hip, and you shudder. “Playin’ coy now, huh? Where was this yesterday when—“

“Joel!” Ellie screeches, skidding to a stop in front of the two of you. You feel the urge to jerk away, but Joel only shifts so that he’s no longer in your face. He still keeps you close.

“What’s up kiddo?”

“There’s a campfire, everyone’s asking us to play a song.”

That piques your interest. Joel has played guitar for you a couple times, though he’s always very shy about it. You’ve stumbled across him playing on his own with no one to watch. It’s fascinating what the music does to him.

It’s like he’s transported somewhere else, his eyes closed as his fingers pluck the strings of his guitar, his foot tapping to the beat, his head nodding along as his hands tell a story through the notes.

You’ve never seen him play a whole song like that, he’s always noticed you before he could ever finish. And when you’d ask him to keep playing, there was a bit of stiltedness. You realized it was nervousness… he wanted you to be impressed, to like what he was doing.

You’re not sure how you ever could dislike his playing.

“You should do it,” you say.

Joel’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. “I dunno—“

“What, you’re not scared, are you?” you tease.

“Don't talk to me about being scared. Pretty sure you stretched out my sweater with how hard you were holding onto me,” he counters.

“Will you two stop bickering like a married couple? Joel, they’re waiting. Come on!” Ellie says and grabs his hand, tugging him along. You laugh as you follow, though her little comment sticks in your mind.

***

Joel settles down on a log with his guitar in his lap. Ellie sits at his side. You got a spot a couple logs away, so you could get a good view of them. The campfire lights his silver hair copper, reflecting like stars off the wood of his guitar.

“Any fans of Bread here?” he asks, and a few hoots and hollers sound out. Joel laughs at that, and Ellie rolls her eyes. You've never heard of the band, but you wait with bated breath. They tune their guitars, and then Joel takes a deep breath and counts down.

One, two, three, four…

Soft strumming fills the air. Ellie keeps the main melody, but Joel plucks more of the details. He sings first.

Baby I’m-a want you

Baby I’m-a need you

You’re the only one I care enough to hurt about

His voice is smooth, a bit shaky from the nerves, but it washes over you like a warm wave of water. Immediately, you’re drawn in. It’s unrealistic, but you still think that Joel could save the world with his voice. It’s scratchy but soft, if one can be both of those things at the same time.

He looks up through his lashes, his gaze catching yours.

Maybe I’m-a crazy, but I just can’t live without

your lovin’ and affection… givin’ me direction

Like a guiding light to help me through my darkest hours

Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be-a stayin’

Beside me…

Your breath catches in your throat while he sings.

It’s just a song, you tell yourself. But the way he’s looking at you… it’s as if everyone else has disappeared. As if the words were created specifically for you. As if… as if maybe he chose this song for a reason…

Ellie picks up the prechorus with her angelic voice, and you’re brought back into the present. But then Joel starts the solo, his eyelids fluttering shut as the music takes over him. His head nods along to notes as he plucks each one out with precision and skill. His foot taps in time with the beat, and people cheer, but you can’t stop staring.

The solo ends all too soon, but Joel’s voice merges beautifully with Ellie’s harmonies back on the prechorus once more.

Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be a stayin’

Beside me…

Used to be my life was just emotions passin’ by.

Then you came along and made me laugh and made me cry

He gives you a small grin, secret, for no one else but you.

You taught me why…

Baby I’m-a want you.

Baby I’m-a need you.

Oh, it took so long to find you baby

Baby I’m-a want you.

Baby I’m-a need you.

Your chest constricts at the sight of him, at the sound of the last few notes being plucked expertly by his fingers. At the blend of his voice with Ellie’s. You can't bear to sit here at this campfire, watching him only as a friend, a fellow neighbor, just like everyone else. You want him to sing this song for you. To know that it’s only you he’s thinking of as the last few strings are plucked by his nimble fingers, ringing out into the dark, cold night. That it’s only you he sees clapping and cheering him on. But you can’t even grant him that, already on your feet the moment the song ends, practically sprinting away from the campfire as your throat grows tight and tears spring to your eyes.

You hope no one has noticed. You hope the footsteps you can hear crunching on crimson leaves are just someone walking past. Of course they’re not though.

“Are you okay?” the familiar timbre of Joel’s voice asks.

God, no! Why!

You frantically wipe the tears from your eyes, sniffling snot so it doesn’t drip down your lip and betray you.

“Oh,” you start, and internally curse the way your voice shakes. You turn toward the one who has been unraveling you at the seams with a trembling smile. “Hi, Joel.”

“Christ, what’s wrong, baby?”

“Don’t—don’t call me baby,” you say, and it’s not at all what you mean to say. You mean to just reassure, to just brush this off and bury it deep inside and never let it out. But you don’t.

Joel’s face hardens, and he steps in closer with a hand stretched out but at the look on your face, thinks better of touching you.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

Nothing. It was just a pretty song.

Was it for me?

Nothing. I’m just being hormonal.

Do those lyrics mean something to you?

Nothing.

Enough. Enough with the excuses and the rules and the lies.

“You happened,” you spit.

He takes a surprised step back. “What?”

“You and your stupid fucking—your stupid fucking friends with benefits and your stupid fucking big heart and your stupid fucking guitar happened, Joel.”

This is probably the first time you’ve ever rendered Joel speechless outside of sex. He looks so stupid standing there staring at you with his wide eyes and his dropped jaw. And yet all you want to do his pull him in and hug him and tell him how much you love his stupid fucking face. Instead, you take a step back.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” he mutters. “You’re freezin’. Let’s head back to my place, we can talk about it there—“

“No. No. I won’t let you just fuck me and then pretend like whatever’s between us doesn’t exist.”

“That’s not—“ he starts, but then must register what you said because his brows furrow over his ice cold gaze. “Me? I pretend like it doesn’t exist?”

“Yes!”

“No I don’t. You’re the one that told me you didn’t want me to kiss you anymore. You’re the one that’s been keepin’ me at arm's length all this time. You’re the one pretending.”

You go to yell back at him, to deny, but the realization that he’s right kills the words in your throat, and you fall silent.

Joel steps closer, his voice dropping. “You can act like I’m the one that’s been torturing you as much as you like, but it just ain’t true.”

His eyes flit across your face wildly, taking in the tears in your eyes, the tremble of your lips, the tint of your cheeks from the cold. He softens.

“Darlin' I... I have been in love with you since the first time I heard you laugh. Since the first time you even glanced my way. Every god damn day is torture wanting all of you when all I can have is some of you.”

You can’t speak, can hardly even breathe.

“If you don’t want to make this anythin’ other than sex, just tell me,” he whispers, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. His breath condenses into steam in the cold air. “Tell me you want to keep pretending, and we can keep pretending."

“I…I don’t.” You shake your head. “I don’t want to keep pretending.”

His nose brushes yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Tell me you don’t want more.”

You swallow harshly. “I want more.”

“Tell me you’re sorry you made me stop kissing you.”

“Please, kiss me, Joel.”

“You’re not very good at followin’ directions, are you?” he says, grinning, and you can’t help but laugh into the kiss when he pulls you in.

His lips are soft, deliberate when they meet yours. He coaxes you open, makes you slow down, pulls you into it so you feel it entirely. Reminds you of what you were missing when you forbade him from kissing you.

God, you missed it so much. Missed him.

Joel’s arms wind around your waist, his hands sliding along the fabric of your coat, and it’s so cold but god you wish you had less layers on right now. You’re sure the warmth of his hands could keep you from hypothermia.

“I’m sorry I forbade you from kissing me,” you say.

He hums, “I guess I can forgive you. Might need some convincing.”

“Oh shut up,” you grin, and pull him back in again.

“I hate pretending like I don’t love you,” he murmurs against your lips, hands gripping your waist.

“You… really love me?”

“Did you not hear my speech earlier?”

“I did. I just… can’t really believe it.”

He pulls you in close and gently grasps your jaw with his large hands. He kisses you again, thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

His lips find the corner of your mouth. “I love you,” he says.

A kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”

A kiss to your eyelid. “I love you.”

When he pulls back, he’s smiling again. It’s strange to see Joel smile. He really doesn’t do it often around anyone. But you guess you’re an exception.

All that time you had spent pushing him away, agonizing over how much you loved him, fearing that he’d leave you if you so much had hinted that you were in love with him, only for him to be in love with you all this time? Holy shit. The world feels like it’s turned upside down.

“Okay, I think I believe you now,” you say in a laugh.

“You haven’t said it back, which I guess is alright—“

“I love you too, Joel,” you interrupt.

He softens again. “I love you,” he murmurs, and pulls you in again for another toe curling kiss. God, you were an idiot for making him stop.

He wipes the tears from your eyes with a calloused thumb. “Your face paint is smudgin’.”

“It was a stupid costume anyway.”

“No, it's cute. But…” Joel glances about, lips quirking in a smirk. He leans down, and his voice is so low you almost don’t hear it. “I think it would look better on my floor.”

“Well…” you fight the grin on your face, delighting in the heat curling low within you. “I guess since you love me and we’re kissing again and aren’t exactly friends anymore… we could really put that statement to the test.”

“I think we should,” he says, and leans down to kiss your neck.

You hum in approval. “What about Ellie?”

“She had plans to go to Dina’s after the festival,” he says, between kisses. “Come over, please? Or do I need to send you a letter with a wax stamp and everythin’?”

“Well… since you said please, I guess that will do.”

The whole walk to his place he has his arm slung about your waist, proudly displaying that you’re his.

You nuzzle yourself into his side, grateful for his warmth and companionship. Your heart feels so full, so light, as if you might actually drift up into the air. Thank god Joel is holding you to keep you grounded.

You smile at Maria and Tommy when you pass by them, and they exchange a look that says something like Finally.

Then you’re at his house, and he’s unlocking the door and letting you go in first. And this time when you’re welcomed inside, you’re no longer worrying about rules or how you feel, or how you might fuck this up. It’s so fucking freeing.

Joel doesn’t ravish you the moment the door closes. Instead, he kind of just stares at you.

You squirm under his attention, growing self conscious. “What?”

He smiles, hands gravitating to your hips. “Nothin’. I just love you.”

You grin. “I love you too.”

He kisses you again, and you don’t think you could ever get enough of it. You kisses you roughly against the door, hips colliding with yours, over and over, and soon enough you’re shaking with want. Mind muddled, whispering a single word into his ear, “Bedroom.”

It feels different here this time. All those times in the past had felt restrained, now, everything feels exactly as it should.

When before you used to strip down quickly just to get him inside you, this time, you both take your time. He carefully unwraps you like a present as he noses kisses down your throat. He peels your thick black sweater off, and slides the straps of your bra down your shoulders, his dark eyes locked with yours. Joel reaches behind you and undoes the clasp with ease. You can hardly hold back your shaky sigh.

Your hands smooth over his sweater-clad chest before pulling it up and over his head. That jagged scar is there on his stomach, a reminder of everything he’s been through. You run your hand along it, and he shudders.

“Sit down,” he says.

You sit on the edge of the bed, and he kneels before you. Then, he grabs your boot-clad foot and sets it on his thigh. He undoes the laces and carefully takes the boot off. He does the other, and then hooks his fingers around your waistband and pulls it and your panties off together.

“I was right,” he says. “It really does look better on my floor.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, and pull him back into you. His lips catch yours gently, but the kiss intensifies when your mouth parts eagerly as his tongue swipes across the seam of your lips. His tongue slips in, and a moan tumbles out of you as your hands scrabble at his shoulder blades, your nails lightly scratching over thin scars.

His nose squishes against your cheek, and his large, hot hands slide up and down your body, like he just can’t keep them still. Like he wants to catalog all of you right now, remember it forever.

He rocks against you, still confined in his jeans, but you can feel the hard shape of him brushing against your sensitive core, the friction incredibly delicious. Your hands find his button and zipper, undoing them both with as much concentration as you can muster, though it’s really difficult when he’s kissing you like you contain all of the world’s oxygen.

Finally, he allows you to breathe, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin of your throat as he mouths hot kisses down your skin. He grips one of your thighs, setting it against his hip, large, rough fingers splaying across the whole of it. God, you love how easily you fit in his palms.

He grinds his hips into you over and over and you moan, aching for the feel of him inside you. You tug at his waistband again. “Joel, please take these off already.”

“Not yet,” he says, and releases your leg, his hand skating across the skin of your thigh, brushing gently along, making you shudder in his hold. You can feel the warmth of his fingers as he nears where you want him most.

And then, his fingers are on you, swirling in gentle circles, unraveling you at the seams. Your head hits the mattress and your back arches. He knows exactly what to do to make you putty in his hands, has had so much time to practice. But this time, it feels so much better, knowing now that he loves you. That you’re more than just friends.

Your palms find his face and you pull him in for a slow, meaningful kiss, trying to tell him just how thankful you are for him. How glad you are that he loves you. How sorry you are for not letting him kiss you. It’s kind of hard to kiss him, though, when he’s making you feel this good. Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging at it, and he moans into your mouth.

He slips one, two fingers inside you, pumping them at a steady pace that has your hands gripping his hair tightly and your hips scrabbling for that pleasant release dangling in front of you. He urges you on with encouraging, quiet words, his dark eyes boring into yours. Your mind, body, and soul feel hot.

When his thumb finds your clit it’s only moments until you’re shattering against him, warmth flooding your body. Your hips jerk, your legs shaking as he takes you over the edge.

“Pants off. Now,” you huff between breaths, and he finally listens.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Then, he shifts you up the bed… it reminds you of the first time the two of you had sex again after he was so busy. So much the same yet so different. His hand moves up your body, cups one of your breasts, kneading it gently. When his thumb ghosts over your nipple, you shiver.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” he murmurs, and grasps your knee, pulling it over his hip.

And then he’s sliding in, and the stretch is blissful, so welcome, so familiar and yet so new. You hold onto him, keeping him close as he begins to move. You feel full, mind faraway with bliss.

“God, Joel-“ you hiss.

He groans out your name, and it rumbles through you like rolling thunder. Lightning lights a fuse at the end of your spine.

You’re out of control. He tends to do that to you. Make you angry, make you sad, draw all the emotions you tend to not want to deal with out of you. Frustrates you, makes you so hungry with want that you throw all semblance of rational thought away. And he likes it. You like it.

God, you love him so much.

You move together as one, pushing and pulling. Everything shrinks down to just this. Him. You. Where your bodies meet.

“More,” you moan, and he huffs out a laugh, but obliges, thrusting into you deeper, harder, and you’re as tight as a bowstring.

Every anxious thought, every worry, every single doubt dissipates with every movement of his hips. You shift your own to meet his thrusts, and soon he’s gasping into your skin, growling your name. His hand winds into your hair, and he breathes with you, eyes locked with yours.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs. “Come for me.”

Well, who are you to deny him? He pushes you over the edge in an instant, your body going taught, eyes rolling back into your head. His name flows out of you like a mantra.

Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel.

“I love you,” he says into your throat when he follows you, hips jerking with sloppy thrusts as he comes inside you.

Joel collapses next to you, pulling you into him, his arm slung heavily across your waist. When you can finally catch your breath, you say, “I love you, too.”

His grin is sated, eyes heavy when he pulls you in for another deep kiss. “We’ve said that a lot, huh?”

“Just making up for lost time. I think it’s alright.”

“I should’ve said it a lot sooner,” he says, calloused fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Me too. Telling you not to kiss me was really dumb.”

“Probably not the smartest thing you’ve said.”

You scoff in mock offense, pushing at his shoulder. “Asshole.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

You roll your eyes, but scoot further into him, laying your head on his chest.

It might have been a risk to fall in love with your best friend, but God, you’re glad you did.

“Yeah, I really do.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #game joel miller #hbo joel miller #this is trouble

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lainiespicewrites · 2 months

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Coach Sy Ch 6

ITS HERE! This took forever because life is crazy rn! But I LOVE this story and I have so many plans for it! This is NOT the end by far! Here's more of our lovable Coach!! (also this story just hit 100 pages on google docs!)

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, cursing, sex p in v, oral, unprotected sex

summary: After the weekend together Alayna decides its time for Logan to meet her friends!

Let me know what you think!!!!

7k (I'm so sorry I couldn't stop!)

Here’s part 5 cause it’s been a while!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of our weekend was too fast. I was already loving the feeling of waking up next to this man. Sunday morning we went out for breakfast. A local diner in town. It was his idea. I told him we could just cook at home again. He was showing off. At this rate everyone would know before we got back to school tomorrow.

He had his arm around my waist when we walked in and pulled me closer while we waited to be seated. He sat next to me instead of across from me in the booth. His arm around my shoulder while we looked at the menu. I giggled to myself.

“What is it darlin?” He raised an eyebrow looking at me curiously. I shook my head.

“You’re something else,” I chuckled. He only looked more confused. “Parading me around like you won first prize, I didn’t realize you were so into PDA,” I smirked. His smile mimicked mine as he kissed my head softly.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, honey.” He chuckled. “Just wanna make sure everyone knows you’re off the market.” He spoke proudly.

“Yeah because there were so many others you had to worry about.” I rolled my eyes. Sy grabbed my chin making me look at him. His deep blue eyes stared into mine intently.

“Just because you don’t see ‘em staring doesn’t mean they ain’t looking Darlin’. If I hadn’t put myself in your path you’d never have noticed, baby. Trust me they’re lookin’, and I don’t share,” He let out a soft growl in my ear and I felt my cheeks flush as a rush of heat flooded my body.

“Sy,” I said softly. He moved his hand so he was cupping cheek, his thumb softly caressing my jaw. I tilted up to kiss him softly but before our lips met the waitress softly cleared her throat approaching our table.

“You two ready to order?” she asked sweetly, mainly to Logan keeping her eyes on him the whole time.

He slowly tore his eyes from mine and turned to her, giving her a kind smile.

“I think we are!” He spoke enthusiastically like we weren’t one breath away from defiling this booth. Like he didn’t have me right where he wanted me hanging on every word he said. Like I wasn’t about to let him do whatever filthy thoughts were working the gears in his head, right here where we could get caught. But you could never tell. Not with Sy. He was a deviant disguised as a perfect gentleman.

“And what can I get for you handsome?” she smiled back. I froze, feeling my blood boil. I know she did not. I looked up from the menu trying to convey a cold look in my eyes, glaring at her as she kept hers on my man. Her eyes lit up while he rattled off his order. She was lucky there was a brick wall of a man between us. I slid closer to Sy tucking myself under his arm and resting my hand on his chest. He raised an eyebrow as I scanned the menu still in his hand to give the waitress my order. She seemed slightly more annoyed now but still smiled when she repeated everything back to us. “Is that all for you?” she asked us, again looking at Sy,

“Yeah, that’s it,” I answered, sending her another look before turning back to Sy and trailing my hand from his chest to the back of his neck pulling him in for a kiss. I heard her huff when she walked away and I smirked to myself as I slowly pulled back, Sy’s lip chasing mine in a chaste little kiss.

“The hell was that?” He raised an eyebrow smirking as he looked me over.

“What?” I asked, kissing his cheek softly and turning to scroll through some of the messages I’d missed on my phone.

“You were jealous,” He chuckled softly. I blushed, turning away from him a bit.

“What, I can’t kiss my boyfriend without having an ulterior motive?” I pouted. His hands were around my middle as he pulled me close.

“You’re boyfriend huh?” I could feel his smile against my neck.

“Mhmm, that’s what I said. Mine,” I grumbled. He chuckled softly, brushing my hair back out of my face and leaning back in the booth so I could rest against him. We sat quietly through breakfast. Talking about the week, He asked if I would ride with the team to the game on friday. They had another away game this week. Of course I agreed. He and the team were about to break a record for the school's undefeated season. I wouldn’t miss it. Sy was trying not to get his hopes up but I just knew they were gonna make it to state this year. I’ve never seen the boys play like they have this season. After breakfast. I decided I should probably go home. We had work in the morning and as fun as it was staying the weekend with him I did have my own things to keep up with.

Sy was quiet on the drive home. But at one point about halfway through the drive he looked over and smiled. He grabbed my hand from my lap and intertwined our fingers.

“You’re so cute,” I giggled softly.

“I hate letting you go,” Logan sighed. Kissing the back of my hand.

“You’ll see me tomorrow, Baby,” I chuckled. He pulled into my driveway and put the truck in park.

“I know, I’m just really enjoying waking up with you in my bed.”

“I like that too,” I smiled, kissing his cheek. “I just think I need to slow down. I’m getting ahead of myself. I’d love to be with you everyday. But we need to let this develop a little,” I spoke nervously, biting my lip. He squeezed my hand trying to ease my mind.

“I get it darlin’ You don’t wanna jump in head first and crash. I won’t let you fall. But hell, we both need our own space too.” he said. I nodded. And let him kiss me softly one last time before I finally got out of the truck.

“Thank you for this weekend.” I said leaning against the door and the open window of the truck, “I’ve had more fun with you than I’ve had in a long time.” I admitted shyly

“So did I, I’ll call you this week when I have our next date planned out,” He winked.

“You don’t have to do that Logan,” I argued.

“Like hell I don’t. Just cause I got you doesn’t mean I can start slackin, you deserve the best pretty girl and I’m gonna give it to ya” I blushed.

“Damnit Sy, if you keep saying things like that I’m gonna get right back into this truck and go home with you.” I pouted. He chuckled and I finally backed away from the truck and let out a deep sigh. “I really do need to go,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked turning and walking up to unlock my front door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow baby” He called from the truck. I turned and waved, blowing him a kiss and then went inside.

I didn’t get nearly as good of sleep Sunday night as I had the nights I spent with Sy. But I didn’t let myself dwell on that. I enjoyed his company so much and he’s such a giving and caring and intense man. I want to be with him. It just feels so overwhelming. I don’t want Logan to feel like I’m pushing him away. But this is all so new to me. No one’s ever wanted to commit to me the way he has. It scares me.

I was exhausted walking into the guidance office Monday morning. I tossed and turned all night and woke up late. It’s crazy how in a matter of a few weeks he’s made my bed less comfortable just because I’m not next to him. I shake the thought from my mind and give Jess a tired smile.

“Good Morning!” She said with as much cheer as she could muster up on a Monday morning.

“Morning,” I replied weakly.

“Busy weekend?” She asked with a knowing smirk.

“The best weekend,” I said, entering my office and setting my bag down. She watched me for a moment and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you gonna give me the details or are you going to make me pry?” she chuckled. I smiled softly.

“The date was so fun!” I said “let me finish my coffee and wake up first and I’ll tell you how it all went!” She just smiled and we both started our work day.

About an hour later after I’d caught up from emails from the weekend and the office was slow I filled Jess in about my weekend with Sy.

“So you two are a couple? Oh I’m so happy for you! I told you!” She said. I nodded quickly. “Why does it seem like you aren’t nearly as excited as I am?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I am!” I defended quickly, wringing my wrist’s awkwardly.

“But…” she added for me and paused.

“It’s all happening so fast, what if…”

“Hold on,” she cut me off. I shut my mouth quickly and leaned against the desk letting her speak, “He hasn’t proposed has he?” She asked. I shook my head. “He hasn’t asked you to move in or talked about babies? Maybe ask you to donate one of your kidneys?’ I laughed out loud and shook my head.

“No he hasn't," I added.

“Then stop searching for a problem! Stop trying to find a reason to be disappointed, Alayna. It’s okay to just be with someone.” She argued. I nodded.

Mike came into the office then greeted us both before I could answer her. He was a teacher. His class was in the same hallway as Logan's. They chatted between class periods. Mike played football in college and currently coaches our cross country team. They got along well!. Mike was much more soft spoken than Sy. But Sy appreciated that about him. Mike taught Psychology as well as World History. The two of them often had some fun conversations over lunch. At least from what Sy has told me. They’re good friends!

It would also seem that he and Jess have caught themselves in the same situation as Logan and I . Except Mike hasn’t made a move despite the amount of times Logan has encouraged him to do so. And sweet precious Jessica refuses to believe he’s into her no matter how many signs I point out.

“Morning Mike!” I smiled, “I better get to work, I have a meeting with a student soon!” I paused as I turned to walk into my office. “Jess, you might benefit from taking your own advice sometime.” I smiled. Her eyes went wide before she shot me a quick glare. I just shrugged and turned back to my office.

I settled at my desk and pulled up my appointment schedule for the day. We didn’t have a student working with us in the office this morning like we normally did, so I wouldn’t have someone to write my hall passes for my students. Instead I’d have to call the teachers for whatever class they’re in and have them excused to my office.

My first Student was a sophomore, Elsie. I quickly checked her class schedule and smiled to myself. She was in Logan’s first period class. He’d come to me last year because he was concerned about her. Since then she and I have been meeting regularly almost every week. I picked up my office phone and dialed the number for Sy’s classroom. I hate to admit I had it memorized.

“Coaches class!” one of his students answered. Likely one of the boys on his team.

“Uh Huh and is Mr. Syverson available?” I asked, holding back a chuckle.

“Is this Ms. P? Coach is actually busy teaching us about dead people, he doesn’t have time for personal calls. But, I can take a message!” I heard giggles in the background and then a gruff voice.

“Matt get back in your seat before I send you to the office, you know nobody sits at my desk! ” There was a collective oooohhh in the background.

“Sorry coach, your girlfriend called, figured you wouldn’t wanna miss it!” Matt chuckled. Sy’s voice however was considerably less lighthearted.

“Donovan you got 5 seconds to hand me the phone and get back to your seat. Or you’ll be visiting the dean… and running the laps you already owe me.” He barked.

“Sorry sir,” He mumbled. And I heard movement on the other end of the receiver.

“Syverson,” he answered plainly

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so mundane,” I giggled.

“What can I do for you Ms. Plummer?” He asked, ignoring my statement clearly trying to remain professional and get a hold on his classroom that was clearly trying to listen in on the conversation.

“You didn’t have to be so hard on him you know,” I said, I knew he couldn’t respond to that, not with the kids paying attention. Wow maybe they really did know we had a thing between the two of us. “Anyway, have you done your roll call already?” I asked.

“I have…” He trailed off with a question in his tone.

“Great! I have a meeting with Ms. Elsie this morning. Is she with you?” I asked. I knew the answer but I was drawing this out just to hear his voice a little longer. I hate to admit I missed him already.

“Yes, Ma’am she is,” he answered.

“Can you send her my way?” I smiled.

“I can do that, “ He said, his voice a bit softer now. A little more at ease. I had one more thing I needed to ask him though.

“One more question, are you free Thursday evening?” I asked quickly. He paused his breath, sounding steady over the receiver.

“I might be,” He said skeptically.

“Well, If you find that you are, Two of my friends and I meet for dinner on Thursday nights. I thought if you weren’t busy you could join us and meet them?” he let out a breath and I could almost hear his smile.

“I can do that too!” he said with a soft chuckle.

“Alright well, as much as I hate to hang up I suppose we both have jobs to do. I’ll talk to you later, Have a good day… Mr. Syverson.” I teased.

“Have a good day Ms. Plummer,” He spoke softly before we hung up.

I looked up from my desk and Jess was still talking to Mike. I smiled to myself. Gosh these two

About 5 minutes later I looked up when I heard Elsie’s voice. She stopped to check in with Jess. She sounded timid. That made sense. Mike was still in the office “Making copies” and standing at the desk. Although he was an extremely gentle and kind person, I’ve noticed the students seem a little intimidated by him as well, I think it’s his height. The man is easily 6’2 at least.

Regardless, he gives her a warm smile when she approaches the desk.

“Good Morning Elsie.” He greets her. I watch from my office. She smiles shyly and mumbles back a quiet

“Hi Mr Gilbert,” She looks at Jess and before she can speak Jess smiles.

“I’ve got you checked in Hon! Happy to see you this Morning Elsie.” she adds. Before Jess can tell her to take a seat I stand and call her into my office.

“Hey girl!” I greet her, “go ahead and take a seat, how was your weekend?” I asked. She sat on the edge of the chair on the other side of my desk. Okay, anxious this morning.

“It was okay,” she answered. I nod sitting back in my chair. I keep my face soft.

“Just okay? Is there anything significant that stands out you wanna talk about?” she shakes her head slouching in the seat a bit. I didn’t want to push her. But she’d been doing so well. Lately though, our last few appointments she was closing off to me again. I nodded

“Okay, well last time you told me you’d started keeping a journal, have you kept up with that?” I asked.

“Yeah, I actually really like it. It…uh… helps me organize what I'm feeling.” she responds.

“Good I always liked to journal too. It always helped when I felt like I could tell someone, at least I could write it out. But Elsie, if there is something going on, that’s what I’m here for okay?” she nodded.

“Ms Plummer, when you were in high school did you ever feel like… your friends just didn’t actually like you?” She asked me. I wasn’t expecting the question. I thought to myself for a moment. I knew the answer but I wanted to be careful how I responded.

“I did, I had some friends that I felt really didn’t care. I was the punchline of all of their jokes. There’s this video from when I was in school. One of my friends had peaches at lunch and she thought it would be funny to throw one at my face.She kept asking if she could do it. I finally just told her she could so she’d stop. And then two of my other friends took videos of it. It ended up online and of course I just laughed it off. But when she actually threw it my crush was walking by. I don’t know if he saw it, I was too embarrassed to look. I never told them how it made me feel, I felt like they should’ve just known not to do that,” I explained. “But on the other hand I had friends that really cared for me. I found out I had anxiety and depression when I was in high school. I may not have if I didn’t have a friend who constantly encouraged me to see our counselor because he was worried about me.” She nodded

“I think I understand what you’re saying. It really sucks that your friends couldn’t see they were hurting you.” she sighs. “But how do you know if someone actually cares? There’s so many fake people and I feel like I can’t trust anyone.” There it is.

“Why is that?” I asked her.

“I just don’t feel like anyone really means it, I don’t know like… my brain keeps telling me they’re just there because they have to be or something,” she sighs, looking down at her hands in her lap.

“I understand, I’ve felt that way too. I still do sometimes. Anxiety is funny like that.” I explained.

“Is that what you think is wrong with me? Anxiety?” she asked. The look on her face broke my heart. She worried her lip between her teeth for a moment. Her wide eyes scared, like I thought she was broken.

“Elsie, I don’t think anything is wrong with you.” I told her, “Everyone has some anxiety. Actors, musicians, athletes, politicians, everyone. Even people in the military, like Mr Syverson. Some have worse anxiety than others but it doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you. You just have to learn how to … cope with it.” she nods, taking in all the information I’d just given her. I still don’t think she’s convinced. Unfortunately I think it’s something she’ll have to experience herself. This was one of those moments I wish I had gone further in school. That I was more than just a guidance counselor and I could do more than just empathize with her. But I wasn’t licensed for therapy. This… was the best I could do of her.

“Like a release? Some way of shutting your brain off?” she asked

“Sort of, the writing is a good start, a release of that emotion, to help you understand it better, does that make sense?” she nodded again. “Good, well try to keep up with that. You’ve been doing really well. Thank you for coming to meet with me again and if you need anything,” I stressed, “Before you see me again don’t hesitate to stop in okay?” I said. Again she nods.

“Thank you Ms. Plummer.” she said and stood to leave. She pauses in the doorway. “Do you… want me to tell Mr. Syverson, you say hello?” She blushed. “Everyone’s talking about it.” she blushed.

“If you’re comfortable with that, sure” I smiled.

“Are you two.. really together? Is it okay if I ask?” I nodded

“I don’t mind you asking hun, Mr. Syverson and I… are… dating. It's new but yes.” I told her, blushing a bit myself. She smiled now.

“I think you two make a great couple, he really cares about us too. At first I was afraid he was just gonna care about the jocks, like some of the other teachers. But he checks on me sometimes, like he knows I don’t like to be called on in class but he makes a point to tell me to have a good day if I’m one of the last one’s in the room. It’s really nice. I don’t know that I can ever find someone who cares like he does. But I’m glad you did. You deserve it Ms. Plummer.” I felt my eyes start to well up with tears and I had to wipe them away quickly.

“You deserve that too Elsie, Please don’t forget that.” She nodded and shrugged her shoulders.

“I’ll… see you next week.” she says before leaving my office. The day went on, whoever’s idea it was to have a department meeting on a Monday afternoon is on my shit list. But I made it through the day, still extremely exhausted but I survived nonetheless.

I felt a presence while I was packing up at the end of the day. I looked up to see Logan leaning against the doorframe watching me with a grin.

“What time do I need to pick you up Thursday night?” He asked, walking in and grabbing my bag for me.

“I can get that, Logan,” I smiled.

“That’s not what I asked,” He smirked.

“We usually do dinner around 6 so maybe 5:30? I take it that means you're coming?” I asked anxiously.

“I’ve always got time for you, sugar,” He said, following me out as I locked up my office for the night.

“Would you stop making me wanna kiss you in inappropriate settings!” I groaned. He chuckled. And pulled me close by my waist as we walked out of the guidance office. Logan leaned in kissing my cheek and let his lips linger against my ear.

“Nope, I like doing inappropriate things with you. Maybe I’ll take you in my office. Bend you over my desk. Or maybe lay you down on your desk after school gets out. Since you love to tease me so much.” He smirked against my skin. He quickly kissed the side of my head and stood up straight as if he hadn’t just whispered the most filthy things in my ear.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stuttered. We walked out the back toward the faculty parking lot and he chuckled.

“That phone call this morning was real cute, Darlin. Putting me on the spot in front of the kids like that.” He said.

“You mean asking you to come to dinner with my friends?” I laughed.

“Listen to you, sounding all innocent, like you didn’t ask me on a date in the middle of class. You had me flustered all morning.” He pouted. When we reached my car he set my bag down and backed me up against it. It reminded me of the night we first kissed in this parking lot. I smiled softly and grabbed his face in my hands.

“I’m sorry Sy, I didn’t think it would throw you off. It was just on my mind.” I softly scratched the hair at the back of his neck and watched his eyes almost roll back.

“Mmm,” He hummed. “I shoulda came down there and reminded you what happens to bratty little girls.” He teased . My thighs clenched at his words. God he could be so filthy. I couldn’t believe he was talking like that out here. But we were alone. And he did say I drove him crazy. I guess he meant it.

I dragged my hand down from his neck to his chest looking up at him innocently. I couldn’t help myself.

“Why don’t you come over tonight and help me remember?” I bit my lip. I wasn’t feeling as bold as I thought. Logan let out a hard chuckle and shook his head. He cupped my cheek and kissed me softly. I chased his lips as he pulled away but he stopped me.

“Easy baby, I’d love to, but we both agreed it’d be smart to slow this down. You just left my place yesterday.” He laughed again. I sighed and pouted.

“I know,” I said. “ I just like being close to you, and today was hard.” He gave me a gentle smile and leaned in kissing my forehead.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked. I shook my head.

“No, just worried about one of our students, it's … I’ll be okay.. I should let you get ready for practice.” I said.

“Okay baby, well how about I come stay with you after dinner Thursday night?” He asked, still holding my waist, not quite ready to let go.

“I’d love that! You could bring Aika! My backyard is fenced in!” I said excitedly. He smiled

“Alright it’s settled then. I’ll call you when I get out of practice, baby, and I’ll see you at 5:30 on Thursday.” He said. And kissed me passionately one more time. I bit my lip and nodded. He picked up my bag and put it in the car for me.

“I’ll see you then,” I said before he stepped back and let me go to get in the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was 5:20 Thursday evening. I was so nervous. Not about seeing Sy. But about him actually meeting my friends. I know he’s a great guy! And they know he’s been good to me but I have this knot of fear in my stomach so twisted, worried this won’t go well. I’d put my hair up and taken it back down for the 3rd time and was finally putting on my shoes. There's a knock on my door.

I ran over and opened it, Logan was standing there with flowers in one hand and Aika on her lead in the other.

“Hey you!” I smiled and leaned in to kiss him quickly. “Those for me?” I nodded to the flowers and he grinned handing them over.

“Of course they are. Couldn’t show up empty handed.” He said as I moved to the side to let him and the dog in.

“Sometimes I swear you’re like…. Written by a romance author or something. They don’t make ‘em like you anymore.” He laughs out loud and pulls me in again, kissing me more passionately this time while we let Aika roam around the house.

“Written just for you baby,” He teased. I blushed and turned to pet Aika.

“You’re sure she’ll be okay while we’re gone?” I asked. He nodded.

“She’s a good dog. She’s used to traveling with me. She’ll be alright,” He said. I nodded but pouted a little.

“I still feel bad leaving her.” I sigh.

“We’ll only be gone a little over an hour baby, she’ll probably just watch out the window for a while and sleep.” he chuckled.

“Okay,” I conceded. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes were soft as they scanned mine. His head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

“Its noth..” I started, but the look on his face called bullshit before I could finish the sentence. It was incredible to me how his eyes could go from soft, to stern in a matter of a second. He was good at that.

“Now, don’t lie to me darlin’. That ain’t gonna fix anything.” He said. I let out another breath.

“I’m just anxious, about tonight, nervous. I don’t have any reason to be. I guess, my anxiety is sneaking up on me again. We should just go. It’ll be fine.” I explained. I pulled the curtains open so Aika could look out the window. I avoided Logan’s eyes as I went to grab my purse.

“Baby, slow down.” he stopped me. We walked outside and stood on my porch for a moment. “Talk to me. What’s going through that pretty little head of yours?” He asked. I sat down on the step suddenly feeling exhausted.

“This week has been rough, I was so excited on Monday when I invited you out. But as it got closer I just kept feeling more anxious about it. Not that I think they won’t like you, or you won’t like them. I don’t know. I just keep picturing all the ways this could go wrong. It’s just dinner. That’s so stupid!” I groaned, arguing with myself. Logan stepped off the porch crouching in front of me.

“Alright, I’m gonna put a stop to this right now. It’s not stupid, or dumb, or inconvenient that you’re feeling a little nervous. You know that. It’s what you tell the kids all day. If you need someone to remind you of that too, that’s what I’m here for.” He said lifting my chin to meet his gaze Shit I’m a little nervous about tonight too. I told ya I was a little hellion, I wasn’t the kinda guy girls wanted their friends to meet. I’m proud to be someone you wanna show off. But it makes me nervous.” He admitted. I grabbed his face and kissed him again.

“Thank you Logan, for always… understanding.” He smiled and stood up holding out his hand for me to take. He led me to the truck and opened my door.

“Come on, we’ll do this together,” he said.

At the restaurant the girls had just gotten a table when we walked in. I think Logan was just trying to show off but he pulled out my chair for me when we sat down. I didn’t miss the look Skyler gave me from across the table when we were all seated. She was impressed. I introduced everyone and we ordered drinks. The girls and I all got a glass of wine and Sy got a beer on tap. This place was honestly a little fancier than our normal Thursday night spot. I think that added to my nerves. But once the conversation started flowing I realized it really was all in my head.

“So you teach as well as coaching?” Skyler asked. “Do you like teaching?’ I knew this was important to her. She loved kids. Well the little ones anyway. Still this was her way of judging his character. Did he care about all of his students or just his athletes? Of course I knew the answer but I let him take this one

“I love it. I thought coaching was going to be my big passion after the military but I really enjoy working in the schools. And I like teaching history. Especially getting the chance to teach about what I did in the military. I guess that’s a plus.” He smiled and took a long sip of his beer.

“That’s great, I know for Alayna it’s always been about the students. But I’m glad you both have that in common.” She responded. I nodded.

“I told you he’s great!” I smiled. Hayley scoffed playfully.

“He hasn’t proved himself yet buddy,” she laughed. “But he gets bonus points for having a dog.” We all laughed.

“Do you always have to be so cynical?” I asked her

“It’s only because they love you darlin’” He chuckled.

“See he gets it!” Hayley added. Skyler nodded.

“You know it’s out of love, I mean we’ve been rooting for you for so long and you finally found a good man who’s like your first REAL boyfriend you know and we’re happy for you!” She explained. I felt my palms get sweaty. I hadn’t had the chance to explain all of that to Logan yet. I had been avoiding it honestly.

“You deserve the best dude we just wanna make sure you actually used good judgement for once,” Hayley added. She was right, but ow! Maybe I was bad at picking them in the past. I was hoping to hide my baggage long enough that it would just disappear. But apparently my friends were going to make sure that was not the case. We were going to have to have the exes conversation… or rather the lack there of conversation.

“You’re right!” I laughed it off, Logan smiled pulling me closer to his side.

“Hell we all make mistakes right? I’m just glad she gave me a chance.” He kissed my cheek.

The rest of the evening was great. We chatted the girls got to know Sy. They really liked him. And he got a long well with them too. Before we left Logan caught our waitress and told her to put it all on one check, surprising all of us by paying for the bill. The girls thanked him again, and we talked about plans for next week before we officially parted ways. Sy and I got back in his truck and were quiet for a minute before he broke the silence.

“You feeling better now, honey?” He asked resting his hand on my thigh. I looked over at him and smiled.

“I am, I feel really good about tonight.” I said. Logan squeezed my thigh softly and took his eyes off the road just a second to smile at me.

“I’m glad,” He said. Another beat of silence. And then, “So, before me, you never?....” He trailed off. Fuck. Fine I guess we’ll do this now. Sometimes being in a healthy relationship is a real pain in the ass.

“I mean, I wasn’t… a virgin neccessarily. I honestly wish I had been. None of the boys I did anything with gave two shits about me. But to answer your question… No, before you, I’ve never been with anyone… long term. I wanted to be. But it just never happened.” I explained almost rambling. “What about…you?” I asked hesitantly. He puffed out a long breath

“Uh, I… hate this…we don’t have to talk about this darlin,” he groaned.

“You can tell me if it’s a lot, I know I’m kinda lame but surely you got around,” I bit my lip awkardly.

“It… it’s more than I’d like to admit, then I had a couple girlfriends in high school. But really nothing serious after I retired from the military. I’ve been ready to finally settle down. Get my head screwed on straight. I don’t think your lame baby, I kinda feel like an ass right now.” He sighed. I put my hand over his squeezing softly.

“You’re not an ass Logan. I guess we probably should’ve had this conversation already, I always thought it was something wrong with me. Maybe it was my body, I was good enough to have sex with but they didn’t want to be seen with me. They always just wanted to fuck and leave. No one ever wanted anything serious. Some had tricked me into believing otherwise so I’d give them what they wanted but… yeah… so I just never dated anyone before you.” I looked over and saw Logan’s jaw clenched

“There ain’t nothing wrong with you baby. You understand me?” He said through gruffly “You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.” I watched him for a moment as he puffed his chest and let out and irritated sigh. I slipped my hand under his tangling our fingers together.

“I know,” I said softly, “you know why? You’ve shown me how a man should treat a lady. For a long time I was really jaded by the way I was treated in the past. I let it close me off. I didn’t believe anyone could ….actually care about me. But you have. You’ve shown me more real affection in a few weeks than anyone ever has.” I blushed. We were home then. He parked the truck and tore my seatbelt off pulling me into him. He crashed his lips to mine sucking all the air out of my lungs. His fingers tangled in my hair holding me to him. I whimpered as he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth. He let out a feral groan at the taste of me on his tongue.

I was breathless when he pulled away. Both of us gasping for air.

“Look at me,” his voice was low and demanding. He never had to demand my attention. He always had it. Still something shook in me at the sound of his voice and my eyes were glue to his. “If I could go back, keep you from the hurt those little boys caused you, I’d do anything. I can’t fix the past, but I can promise you won’t go another day wondering your worth baby, not with me. There’s not an ounce of you I’d want to change darlin.” I felt like I could melt under his intense gaze. Where the hell did this man come from and how did I end up with him. I bit my lip pondering what to say. But all I wanted was to feel his touch again. And it was getting way too hot in this truck.

“Show me,” I said finally. He smiled and turned to get out of the truck. I jumped out and hurried to the door I could feel the heat of his body behind me as I unlocked the door. We walked in and Sy shut the door behind us. I had expected the dog to greet us but she’d put herself to bed in her kennel peacefully taking a nap. I threw my purse down on the counter and before I could think to turn around Logan’s hands were on me. He spun me to face him. Our lips met again instantly. I whined against his lips so needy to feel his skin. I pulled at his shirt and he chuckled pulling away to throw it on the ground I pulled off my sweater following suit. He pulled me back in kissing me roughly and pulling away to nip at my neck. I moaned softly gripping his shoulders as he lifted me up onto the counter. He slotted himself between my legs and ground his hard cock against me, letting out a low growl in my ear.

“You want me to show you how bad I need you baby, you feel what you do to me?” he groaned.

“Sy please,” I begged. I couldn’t take his teasing. I just needed to be close to him. To feel him inside me. I felt his hands slide down to the waist of my leggings and I lifted my hips so he could pull them off with my panties. He pulled me to the edge of the counter kissing my my chest and down my stomach. I whimpered softly,

“Just gotta taste you, baby,” He moaned. Then he dipped his head between my thighs licking up my slit and sucking my clit into his mouth. I let out a loud moan arching my back and trying to get closer. He was relentless. Like a man starved licking my pussy and pushing his tongue inside me. Too quickly the pleasure started to build. And when he brushed his thumb over my clit in little circles I tumbled over the edge.

“Fuck you always taste so good,” He groaned standing back up and shedding his jeans and boxers. He grabbed my hip and pushed into me slowly. My eyes met his again, as he watched my face. I couldn’t contain my moans when he was fully sheathed inside me. My head fell back my teeth sinking into my bottom lip trying to gain some semblance of control. “So pretty when I fuck you.” He moaned as I started to thrust. He attached his lips back to my neck and bit down on my shoulder.

“Fuck yes,” I moaned meeting his thrusts as he sped up.

“I want this, I want you, all of you baby,” He growled in my ear. “So fucking perfect, I love the way you take me.” he encouraged bringing his thumb back to my clit. I gripped his shoulders feeling the pressure build again.

“Logan,” I breathed.

“That’s it, I love it when cum for me baby, let me feel it.” he moaned. That’s all it took for me to cum again. His name on my lips like a prayer. Logan followed right behind me thrusting hard one last time and emptying himself inside me.

We stayed there connected for a moment. Breathing heavy, holding each other.

When Logan pulled away he helped me off the counter, he cupped my face kissing me softly.

We got cleaned up, showering together before settling down for the night. I was in his T-shirt, head laying on his chest finally cozy in bed.

“Sy,” I said softly.

“Hmmm,” He hummed, he was slowly brushing his fingers up and down my back. I raised my head to look at him.

“I��I think I…” I paused trying to form the words.

“I know,” he said. “I think I do too.” I smiled laying my head back down I laid awake for a while until I noticed soft snores coming from him. I giggled to myself, and closed my eyes. Yeah, I thought… I really think I do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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highpriestessarchives · 3 months

Text

A Philosophy Behind Writer's Block: Valuing Despair

Unfortunately, it happened again where I went a little over a month without writing anything I was happy with. I would attempt to get some words down, remembering that even a little bit is progress; but, no matter what I did, everything just felt so dry and dull. Not only that, my stories felt like they were boring or just not worth it anymore. It was awful.

I tried everything that normally helped with getting over writer’s block. I’d try out different times to write, read other books for inspiration, focus on another hobby—still, it all felt like I was banging on a brick wall. That’s when I turned to my philosophy studies, as if there was some sort of deeper consciousness of an answer that would aid my issues.

Well, there was. The infamous Kierkegaardian Despair.

The Sickness unto Death

The Sickness unto Death is a book written by Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard in 1849 under the pseudonym Anti-Climacus. A work of Christian existentialism, the book is about Kierkegaard’s concept of despair, which he equates with the Christian concept of sin, which he terms “the sin of despair.”

In Kierkegaard's work, despair arises from a fundamental disconnection from one’s true self and from God. He distinguishes between different forms of despair, including the despair of having a self and the despair of not wanting to be oneself.

Now, take what you will from the Christian existentialism part (I’m pagan, so I already had mixed opinions on many classic texts on God), but it doesn’t erase how the concept of despair can shed light on the underlying struggles that writers—at least, myself—may face.

It’s Never Just a Phase

Writer’s block can be seen as a manifestation of existential despair in which we feel disconnected from our creative essence or authentic self. This disconnection may stem from various sources, such as self-doubt, fear of failure, or a sense of alienation from one’s creative impulses. We may experience a profound sense of emptiness or meaninglessness, unable to access the inspiration and clarity needed to write.

Moreover, Kierkegaard’s notion of despair as a failure to align with one’s true self suggests that writer’s block may arise when our creative endeavors are driven by external motives or expectations rather than genuine inner inspiration. The pressure to produce work that meets societal standards or fulfills commercial demands can lead to a sense of existential disorientation and paralysis.

Don’t Just Overcome it. Value it.

If you resonate with Kierkegaard’s work, you will agree with his observation that we are always going to despair over something. It’s not about waiting for the tide to roll over or for the dry spell to ease up, but to examine our own self’s relation to what we are lamenting over. He writes:

“Despair is an aspect of the spirit, it has to do with the eternal in a person. But the eternal is something he cannot be rid of, not in all eternity… If there were nothing eternal in a man, he would simply be unable to despair… Having a self, being a self, is the greatest, the infinite, concession that has been made to man, but also eternity’s claim on him.”

Let’s break down the quote and explore how it can inform our approach to overcoming writer’s block:

Despair as an Aspect of the Spirit: Kierkegaard suggests that despair is not merely a psychological state but an aspect of the spirit, rooted in the eternal dimension of human existence. Kierkegaard’s conception of despair invites us to recognize the creative process as a site of existential tension and struggle.

Writer’s block is not merely a technical or practical obstacle to be overcome but a profound existential challenge that confronts us with the limitations of our finite selves and the aspirations of their creative spirit.

The Eternal in a Person: Kierkegaard asserts that despair is linked to the eternal within individuals, suggesting that it arises from a tension between the finite and the infinite aspects of human nature. The finite aspects encompass the temporal, material, and contingent dimensions of life, while the infinite aspects involve the eternal, transcendent, and spiritual dimensions. This tension is inherent in human consciousness and manifests in various forms of despair, such as the despair of weakness, the despair of defiance, and the despair of not willing to be oneself.

This tension between the finite and the infinite can be understood as the conflict between the limitations of our creative faculties and the boundless possibilities of imagination and expression. Writer’s block often emerges when the writer feels constrained by external pressures, self-doubt, or perfectionism, inhibiting their ability to access the infinite reservoir of creative inspiration within them.

Moreover, Kierkegaard’s concept of the finite and the infinite highlights the paradoxical nature of creativity. While the creative process involves the manipulation of finite materials—words, images, sounds—it also taps into something transcendent and ineffable, something that exceeds the boundaries of ordinary experience. Writer’s block can be seen as a manifestation of our struggle to bridge this gap between the finite and the infinite, to give form to the formless, and to articulate the inarticulable.

Having a Self as Eternity’s Claim: In Kierkegaard’s philosophy, the concept of “having a self” refers to the capacity for self-consciousness, self-reflection, and moral agency that distinguishes human beings from other creatures. It involves the awareness of one’s own existence as a distinct individual with thoughts, feelings, desires, and responsibilities. “Eternity’s claim” suggests that the existence of the self is not merely a temporal or transient phenomenon but is imbued with profound significance that extends beyond the confines of earthly life. The self, according to Kierkegaard, is intimately connected to the eternal dimension of human existence, reflecting the divine spark within each individual.

“Having a self as eternity’s claim” suggests that the act of creative expression is not merely a personal endeavor but is also a manifestation of the eternal striving for meaning and significance. Writers, as self-aware and self-conscious beings, bear a profound responsibility to give voice to their innermost thoughts and feelings, to explore the depths of human experience, and to contribute to the ongoing dialogue of humanity.

Embracing Existential Depth

So how do we value despair and overcome writer’s block in light of Kierkegaard’s insights? Writer’s block often extends beyond mere technical or practical challenges and can be rooted in deeper existential concerns. This involves grappling with questions of identity, purpose, and meaning in the creative process. By recognizing writer’s block as a reflection of these existential concerns, we can approach it as an opportunity for self-exploration and growth. Rather than viewing it solely as a barrier to productivity, we can use writer’s block as a catalyst for deeper introspection and self-discovery. This might involve journaling, meditation, or engaging in conversations with fellow writers or mentors to uncover underlying psychological or philosophical issues that may be contributing to the blockage. I have previously posted a blog on writing soliloquies. Embracing existential depth allows us to transform our struggles into sources of insight and inspiration, ultimately enriching our creative work.

There is a large aspect of accepting what you cannot control, another widely-known philosophical concept. Swimming against the current, after all, may prove to be more tiring than it’s worth. Instead, be kind to yourself and practice self-compassion during these moments. Understand that experiencing creative struggles is a normal part of the writing process and treat yourself with the same kindness and understanding you would offer to a friend facing similar challenges.

Seek social support. Reach out to fellow writers, friends, or mentors for support and encouragement. Sharing your struggles with others can help you gain perspective and feel less isolated in your creative journey, because, trust me, we have all been there.

Ensure that you are also setting realistic goals. All I would want to do was upkeep my 3k word/day momentum, but I would feel even worse about myself for being unable to do so. Break down your writing goals into smaller, more manageable tasks and set realistic deadlines for yourself. Celebrate small victories along the way to maintain motivation.

Finally, what has helped me the most, is to read widely. Immersing myself in diverse genres, styles, and voices provided so much insight into what I could be missing in my own work; or, it simply sparked my love of story-telling all over again.

Closing Words

Remember that writer’s block is a temporary obstacle that can be overcome with patience, persistence, and, apparently, a bit of philosophy. Where there is frustration, we will find insight.

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moon-fics · 1 year

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Who Is She?-Simon "Ghost" Riley

A/n: This is definitely a slay! REPOST! This is my work I'm reposting it! I hope ya'll enjoy it!

Summary: You're new to the team but there's something about you Ghost can't quite understand.

Warning: Swears, mention of injury/blood

When Ghost first saw you, he was caught off guard by your appearance. You had a mask that covered the bottom half of your face, an emotionless glaze over your eyes. He almost attacked you with how tense you looked while under his glare, assuming you were an enemy spy snooping around. You got lucky that Price appeared right behind you with a warning look pointed at him. When you noticed Price your body relaxed enough to put Ghost at ease.

“Simon this is-” Your eyes widen as he begins to introduce you. Before Price can continue, you butt in.

“Trick.” You finish Price’s sentence with a low tone. Price is unfazed by your interruption but waits in case you have more to say. After a few seconds, he guesses you don’t want to talk anymore and pats your back.

“She’ll be joinin’ you on the Taskforce’s mission. She’s got inside information that we can use and she’s a bloody good shot.” Ghost is barely listening to Price as he observes you. Your eyes are locked with his and he can’t tell what you’re thinking. Usually, he’s able to read someone quickly, but he can barely stand looking at you directly. There’s something about you that makes him uncomfortable and he can’t figure out what.

“I hope you two can work well together since she’ll be next to you the whole time.” Price has a tone that tells Ghost not to argue.

“Him?” You point at Ghost with curious eyes. Price raises an eyebrow in amusement and nods. Ghost is sure he’s missed an important conversation to make Price chuckle at your confusion.

---

You took Price’s words literally because even before the mission you stand near Ghost. Not close enough to bother him or get in his way, but enough to be noticed by the other teammates. Soap has tried to make conversation with you but whenever it gets too personal you put up a strong wall.

“You should have seen us on our last mission! We barely made it out alive, I’m just glad Ghost didn’ crash the car we used to get away!” Soap explains with a large grin. You nod along, listening to his every word. Ghost is sitting next to you busy making sure Soap doesn’t fabricate any details to make himself seem cooler. “You ever been on missions?”

“I have and they’ve all been successful.” You say nonchalantly as if that isn’t something to be proud of. Ghost can’t help but want to hear about them, but he knows you won’t tell. However, Soap does not and he presses deeper.

“Any impressive injuries? I’m sure ya have a few intense scars!” Just as Soap finishes his sentence there’s a shift in you. From a willingly social attitude to an empty person, your smile falls. The wall builds itself back up and just like that Ghost loses you.

Not a single member has been able to get a single detail of who you are, but Ghost has seen a few things.

For example, you always smell like roses, except one day when you smelled like vanilla, you seemed upset you had a different shampoo. He also notices you like watching him polish his guns, even if that means sitting in silence awkwardly.

Even though you hide the bottom of your mouth he can still tell when you’re smiling or frowning because you’ll allow your eyes to give it away. Those are the only times he can actually get a read on you, any other and you’re like a brick wall. It’s not because you show too many emotions or hide your eyes, you just have nothing within them. Nothing he can understand at least.

You sit next to Ghost as he sharpens his knives carefully. Your eyes never leave his hands and it makes him feel nervous. He doesn’t understand why his hands are sweating and why your eyes are so pretty in this light.

He reaches for another knife to sharpen and your eyes lock onto it. There’s the smallest amount of interest showing and he can’t help but enjoy how comfortable you’ve become with him. It’s only been a couple weeks but you’ve been showing more emotions around him, only him. He sharpens the knife and puts the cover over the blade. He sighs heavily before handing you it. You give him a smile that not even the mask can hide and gladly take it.

Ghost doesn’t converse with you often, instead, he has small moments like this. He honestly prefers silent company over eggshell conversations and he can tell you do too.

A week before the mission you seem to sit closer to him and try to be closer physically. He can’t tell why, but he assumes it’s your nerves. You seem protective over him, keeping an eye out whenever you’re around him. He can’t say he doesn’t enjoy having someone to be alert with.

---

Ghost sits next to you on a rooftop, sniper rifles resting on the edge. It’s dark out now, the stars lighting the sky beautifully. Both of you are sitting against the roof edge waiting for the signal to aim. He hasn’t said a word and neither have you.

After a few minutes, Soap comes on the line telling them the targets are in sight. Ghost was assigned one man while you got the other but knowledge was limited on what to expect. Ghost already has his rifle aimed at his target, but something doesn’t feel right.

“I used to know him.” Your voice is low while staring through the scope of your rifle. It takes Ghost a second to realize you’re talking to him and not yourself. His eyes land on your figure, your hands trembling over the trigger, hesitating. For the first time since he’s met you, he can tell exactly what you’re feeling and he wishes he didn’t. When you pull away from the scope your eyes reflect such an empty void. “It’s a trap!” You yell right as gunfire rings out. Bullets barely miss Ghost’s body and you quickly knock him down. The border around the roof is the only thing keeping the two of you from getting shot.

Ghost watches as you crawl to the roof ladder, the only way off the building. He’s quick to follow, hoping they aren’t too exposed. He’s about to ask how they’ll get onto the ladder without getting killed when you quickly lift him up to his feet. He’s amazed at your strength, almost bamboozled by it. You shove him over the edge and he almost misses the ladder’s steps, gripping them to stop from falling to his death.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?!” He yells. He’s safe on the ladder, whoever is shooting at them can’t get a view of him here. You on the other hand are extremely exposed and you know this. You have mere seconds to join him on the ladder and yet you don’t. Instead, you disappear from his view, retreating back to the rifles. He screams your name but gets no response. He hears you fire your gun and the sound of screaming from below. You hit your target but compromised yourself in the process. He begins climbing up the ladder to make sure you aren’t dead when your covered face reappears. He sighs in relief, climbing back down to give you room. You make it over the border of the roof and climb down as fast as you can, but it’s not enough. A bullet grazes your shoulder and one hand lets go of the ladder. Blood is soaking through your sleeve and your grunt in pain.

“Fucking climb, dumbass!” You scream at him and he follows your orders even though he’s in charge. You struggle to reach the ground successfully and Ghost has to grab your waist to make sure you even touch it. He’s still surprised by your tone earlier. Not once have you ever raised your voice like that and it kind of amuses him. Once the mission is over he’s going to get more information on you one way or another.

----

You’re leaving the Taskforce soon, you said so yourself yesterday. He was minding his own business, walking back to his room when he ran into you. You didn’t smell like roses, you didn’t smell like anything actually. You seemed distant towards him, unable to make eye contact. Your mask was sloppily put on, revealing a bit of your nose. The way you spoke was cold and it stung him. It felt like all the progress he made with you had been crushed by your wall.

That’s when he decided to confront Price, to get answers on who you are and how you knew the enemy enough to know the mission was a trap.

“Who the bloody hell is Trick? Why did you bring her in for this mission?” He demands. Price is sitting behind his desk, files piled in front of him. He’s not new to Ghost’s frustration and he understands where it’s coming from. You seem to know way more than you let on about the people the force is targeting. Price also understands that it’s not his place to talk about what you’ve gone through.

“Either she tells you or it remains unknown.” Ghost knows better than to argue further, but he can’t watch you leave without all the answers he needs. It’ll eat him up inside with all the questions swarming his head.

So, he heads to your room, his feet stomping the concrete floor. Once he reaches your room he knocks loud enough to wake someone up. He waits a few seconds before banging again. This time he can hear movement from the other side.

You open the door with your mask perfectly on. You have the same infuriatingly empty look on your face and he can’t stand it anymore. He can’t handle all the new emotions inside him, especially how scared he was when he watched the bullet scrape your arm. How fragile you looked as you helped you onto the helicopter back to base. You weren't masking yourself anymore and he could see the fear in your eyes the entire ride back to base.

“Who the fuck are you?” He’s harsh with his words and you don’t even move. He’s never been angry towards you, sure you’ve seen him yell at someone, mainly Soap, but never you.

“I didn’t think you’d actually ask.” Your words reboot his brain. He was expecting push back or a refusal of information, instead, you step away from the door and wait for him to enter your room. It’s going to be a long night.

“I knew the target because I used to date him.” You explain, sitting on your bed. You’ve answered all of Ghost’s questions, every single one he can think of. You were open to him for the first time and you didn’t hide your emotions, you let them out. It’s a sight only he’ll get to see and he’s happy about it. “It was before I knew what he was doing, I swear. I had already been trained for combat before I met him so it was easy to escape. I had already begun taking out his connections when Price invited me to the team.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Is all he can ask, it’s his last question. He knows you’re probably exhausted from hearing him ask so many things.

“I was ashamed that I dated a man as bad as him. I know it wasn’t my fault, I didn’t know about what he was hiding, but still.” You hum.

There’s a long silence, Ghost digests the information you’ve given him and he begins to understand you more. Price most likely handed you to him because he knew you’d be comfortable around someone who doesn’t talk as much as the rest of the team. You wouldn’t be questioned by him and you wouldn’t feel as inclined to hide.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see your hands coming up to your face. You remove your mask revealing a scar along your lip. It’s not deep but it’s noticeable. That’s the final indicator that you trust him, that maybe these feelings he’s been having aren’t solely his.

“So, what now?” You question, your voice soft. A single word pops into his head the second you spoke, and it grows bigger the longer he remains quiet. It’s practically screaming itself in his head.

“Stay.” Your eyes are wide when looking at them and he loves what he sees inside them. There’s a spark of hope, something he’s never seen from you. It makes him challenge himself to see if he can cause that same look every day.

“Maybe I will.”

#ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost cod x reader #cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #modern warfare x you #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you

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slutforleeminho · 1 year

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Hey, love!!

I saw the requests open for Changbin. Can you do a shower smut with a shy reader and make it extra sensual and passionate. Like some body worshipping?

Ignore if you're uncomfortable.

Toodles!! Have a good day!!

stop it rn this is such a cute idea

‘join me?’ ~ seo changbin

“binnie.” you whispered into the shell of his ear while also gently shaking his arm, trying your best to wake him up in a quiet way. but changbin slept like a rock, the man has slept through every single storm that you would jolt awake in fear to. you were growing impatient. “changbin!” you raised you voice, ditching the soft girl voice you were using merely a moment before. he groaned against his pillow, a muffled ‘five more minutes’ was the only thing he said before hiding his face under the blanket. you rolled your eyes at his laziness but excused his actions because he was so cute doing it. “i made breakfast.” his reaction was exactly how you predicted it to be, head peaking out from under the duvet as he yawned a ‘what did you make’.

it wasn’t long before you were both sitting at the kitchen island, changbin chowing down while you watched him with a smile on your face. you loved to cook for him, it was always the first thing you did in the morning. you lost count of how many cook books you’ve bought so you could practice new recipes for him to taste test. you learned over the past few years the food was basically his love language, that and physical touch. he would always come up behind you and wrap his thick arms around your waist while you were making dinner, leaving soft kisses on your neck and whispering sweet love confessions in your ear. you would never pass up the opportunity to cook for him.

once he was finished he placed his used dishes in the sink and announced he was off to take a shower, but not before thanking you for the food with a kiss. “don’t take too long. i have to take one too.” you had done a quick workout before he woke up and wanted to wash the dried sweat off of you.

“why don’t you just join me? the shower is big enough for the both of us.” his offer took you by surprise, you had never done that before. you were barely confident enough to have sex with him in a dark room, let alone be completely bare naked before him while you bathed. it was that you were insecure about the way you looked, you knew you were pretty, you just didn’t think you were pretty enough for him. compared to him you looked pitiful. i mean have you seen him? he looked like he was hand sculpted by god himself.

“no!” you responded quickly, shutting down his idea. but the confusion on his face made you realize you could’ve worded that a little nicer. “i mean that’s okay. i need to wash up these dishes anyways.” you said in a calmer tone this time. but he still wasn’t buying it.

“the dishes can wait. come on baby please.” his voice was whiny as he begged you to accompany him, his lip jutted out in a pout and eyes got ten times bigger, they sparkled as if a tear would fall out any second. you couldn’t resist the cuteness of it all and caved in rather quickly. his demeanor changed automatically from the sad puppy to jumping in excitement and grabbing your hand to drag you to the bathroom. you giggled at reaction, he was so happy you were joining him.

once you were in you stood behind him, letting him wet his hair and body. you couldn’t help you eyes from wandering, admiring all of him, from his hands and down his arms, drooling at the sight sight of his biceps and the way the flexed as he ran his fingers through his hair. his back muscles were so defined and detailed, every dip and curve of them were drawing you in. “just couldn’t help yourself could you?” you were confused by his question but then reality hit you like a bag of bricks and you realized you were tracing out patterns on his back, mapping out all your favorite parts. you quickly retracted your hands and held them to your chest. embarrassment started to set in as you apologized to him and how you didn’t know what came over you.

he turned around, his eyes meeting yours immediately. he took your hands in his, rubbing circles onto your palm with his thumbs. “why are you sorry? i love it when you touch me. the only downside to it is that your hands are so tiny that it kinda tickles.” the way he was speaking to you so casually put you at ease, making you feel so much more comfortable.

“i just didn’t want to invade your personal bubble.” his head cocked to the side as he looked down at you.

“i’ve never had a personal bubble when it comes to you, baby.” he brought both of your hands up to his chest, placing them atop. “feel free to touch me however you’d like.” after given his explicit consent you ran your hands all over his chest, making your way down to his torso. he didn’t really have defined abs but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, he was still the sexiest person you’d ever laid eyes on.

as you felt him up the heat growing in between your legs started to become uncomfortable, squeezing your thighs together to relieve yourself a little bit. your constant shifting must have caught chanbins eye. “can i invade your personal bubble?” a hint of teasing in his voice.

“please.” you didn’t mean to sound so needy but that’s exactly what you are, needy. he wrapped is arms around your waist and brought you flush against his chest, your boobs squished against him. he smashed his lips against yours, the kiss was gentle but still heated. you gasped when his tongue swiped against yours and you brought your hands to the back of his head to tangle your fingers into his hair and pull him even closer. he moved his kisses from your lips to your neck, creating little red marks as he went. he kept going lower until he reached your perky breasts, taking your left nipple into his mouth and sucking like his life depended on it. his tongue tongue circled it, working you up until you were arching your back up and closer to his mouth. he suddenly pulled away, the quiet sound of a ‘pop’ was heard from the separation of his lips from your now swollen and aching nipple. he only gave you a small glance before dropping to his knees to be eye level with your cunt. his eyes sparkled as he looked at your soaked pussy, your wetness dripping down your thighs. he pushed your thighs farther apart and without warning dove straight into licking from your entrance to your clit, stopping there for a moment to circle it with his tongue then sucking hard and then repeating his actions. you threw your head back in pure ecstasy, his mouth working you over so good. your legs started to shake from the uncomfortable stance. he noticed and lifted you right thigh over his shoulder, taking some of the weight off of your feet. your hand found it’s way to his hair once again but this time you pulled at it harshly before shoving his face closer to your sex. your hip started moving on their own, basically full on riding his face at this point. the pressure started to build up and you knew if he kept eating you out like he was a starved man, you would absolutely explode. a rather loud moan came from deep in your gut when he started started steadily sucking on you clit, and just like that you were coming undone on his face.

he continued softly licking up your release until you fully came down from your high. your chest heaved as you tried you best to catch your breath but it was difficult when that was probably the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced.

he carefully removed your leg off of his shoulder and placed it back on the floor, standing back up to hover over your quivering body. “you look so pretty when when you come.” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. his compliment went straight to your core and you suddenly felt shy under his piercing gaze, a deep blush painting your cheeks. “aww is my baby flustered?” he smirked as he ran his finger over the pink of your cheek. “how about we see how you look when you come on my cock, yeah?” you nodded eagerly which pulled a laugh out of changbin. but his honey like voice died down and he quickly got to work, pulling you in and kissing you passionately. you could taste yourself on his tongue but the maple syrup from his breakfast overcame it, making him taste so sweet.

his hands went from the small of your back to cup your ass cheeks, he squeezed harshly and used the hold he had on you to lift you off your feet and into his arms. your legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing them tightly around him to keep yourself up. you felt the tip of changbins cock pressing up against your ass, he was so hard.

he pressed your back against the cold tile wall causing you to gasp. he rutted his hips forward, the tip of his member nudging your clit. even though you just came less than ten minutes ago, the need that was bubbling in your lower belly was hard to ignore. “bin please.” only changbin could pull this side of you out of hiding.

“what is it, honey? tell me what you want.” he always urged you to be vocal and communicate your wants during your intimate times together.

“i want you inside me.” he grinned at your answer.

“so greedy. i already made you come once and you want more?” to anyone else it would sound like he was teasing you but you knew he was only joking and would give you anything you asked for on a silver platter. that’s what he always does, serves you. wether it be simple things like picking something up for you from the store on his way home from work, to getting on him hands and knees to please you until you tell him to stop. changbin talks big game but you know deep down that you have this man wrapped around your little finger.

when he finally does enter you for the first time, it’s euphoric. little bolts of electricity shooting through your body, starting at your core and exiting from your toes and finger tips, leaving you feeling tingly. your fingers dug into his broad shoulders, leaving little crescent moon shapes on his skin. he stretched you out as far as you could go, pushing your limits. he bottomed out and released a puff of breath he must’ve been holding in. he let he adjust to his girth before pulling out, just to push his way back into your plush walls. “you’re always so wet for me, baby. always so warm and tight. feels so good sweetheart.” his praise caused a quiet whine to escape your red and swollen lips, bruised from all the harsh biting in attempt to hold yourself back from screaming.

instead of fucking you senseless, he thrusted into you slowly and steadily, hitting that one good spot deep inside you. the slower he went the more you wanted to force him onto this shower floor and ride him till you both came, but you let him have his way with you. you knew he loved to take it slow and just relish in the feeling of you, taking in every detail and just feel. but he too had needs that needed to be fulfilled and you were more than willing to help him get there.

his hips sped up as he chased after that incredible high that he could only find in you. he started getting louder with his moans and grunts, signaling he was getting closer to his end. his desperation and made you clench around him, you felt him twitching uncontrollably and his hips started losing their rhythm. “i’m gonna come. are you close, sweetheart?”

“so close.” your breathing was all over the place, occasionally catching in your throat.

“shit i’m coming, baby.” his hips stuttered as he emptied himself inside of you, moaning your name into the crook of your neck. the warmth of his seed filling you up pushed you over the edge for the second and final time today. your back arched up into him and your legs tried to squeeze together but his large hands pulled your legs open, keeping them spread so he could reach the peak of his orgasm and make sure you did too.

he stopped altogether when you whimpered from being so sensitive and tired from the two very intense orgasms in the span of fifteen minutes. he lowered your legs back to the floor but didn’t let go of your waist, still holding the majority of your weight up. “even better” he grinned.

“what do you mean?” your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“you look even prettier when you come on my cock.” his tongue drew out to wet his lips. you couldn’t help but smile at his compliment and bring your hands up to cover your red ears. he took your hands in his and pulled you under the stream of warm water, wetting your hair and grabbing your lavender shampoo from the little shelf in the corner, and pouring a dime size amount in his palm. “how about we actually shower now?” he joked as he rubbed his hands together, creating a foam. you agreed and turned around, allowing him to run his fingers through your hair and message it into your scalp, humming at the relaxing feeling.

i like this one🤭

@fawnpeaks @yumiblogs

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