#Monday Munch

[retroness-is-fabulous]

#fruit loops #fruity confetti #confetti #90s design #1990s #cereal #90s cereal #monday munch #nostalgia #old school #rare #kelloggs

[agena87]

Muscle Mommy Baby Monday (though, I'm sure she'll have someone calling her "mommy" sooner or later)

---

Babygirl is ready for another strength athletics competition. Hay bales are gonna fly!

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 cas #show us your sims #muscle mommy monday #oc: marlies munch #the fearless and the ravishing

[simmersofia]

#there were soooo many drafts for those posters so have some bts i guess 😂 #i’m excited for this!! 🙌 #can you tell?? #first post coming monday 👀 #sims 4 #ts4 #malcolm landgraab #wolfgang munch #m/w extra #tw blood

[kharonion]

pretty face... dark soul.

Commissioned absolutely gorgeous shots from @a-pirate — these are but a couple. (I'm still going FERAL over them btw.)

#screaming crying munching on these forever #thank you so much again bud <3 #y'all go support Lar. RIGHT NOW. #other's things... for me 🥺💚 #oc: vikt #male v monday #male v #cyberpunk 2077 #cp 2077

[noneedtofearorhope]

i swear i like, overdid the tags the last time we had a chain munch monday so that the search function would actually find it. i remember searching afterwards and it working. they’re trying to censor us! they know that after we finish munching on the chains we’ll be munching on the cables and duct tape that hold this site together

ok this is an original post maybe they’ll have an easier time finding this rather than a reblog, so here is the link to happy chain munch monday https://noneedtofearorhope.tumblr.com/post/686318261331279872

#happy chain munch monday

[heartloquette]

me. if you even care.

#silly little guy #munching #monday night munchin

[sttoru]

ෆ tags. dad!toji x female reader. toji letting baby megumi try all kinds of new food !

it was a typical monday morning: you were making breakfast for your little family, flipping pancakes and eggs as you left toji to handle the task of helping megumi go through his routine. once your husband had finished, he walked into the kitchen with your little child in his arms (this time holding the boy somewhat properly).

once you turn your head towards the two, you noticed how megumi was eagerly suckling on toji’s index finger—a habit of your son to signal you that he yearned for his daily nutrients.

“megumi’s biting my finger off,” toji exaggerates, yawning before moving towards the fridge and opening the door. the sudden breeze of cold air hitting his skin makes him shudder.

you laugh and flip a pancake, revealing its golden brown colour on the back, “i stored ‘gumi’s food on the second shelf. a little in the back.”

megumi’s tiny arms were already reaching out for the familiar bowl, making grabby hands at it as if encouraging his dad to feed him his meal. toji’s eyes, however, were scanning the entire content of the fridge for something new, “y’know, maybe it’s time to learn how to eat somethin’ else, kid. your taste buds need’ta get used to other foods.”

according to his ‘brilliant’ logic, it’s best to get kids used to new foods at a young age so they won’t become picky eaters later on. thus, toji grabs the most random combination of whatever looks edible. the gathered items consisted of pickles, strawberries, mini-carrots, tomatoes and a single lemon.

toji quickly glances over at you, but your attention was totally focused on the breakfast you were preparing. your husband takes his chance, puts megumi in his high-chair and cuts up all the food he grabbed to biteable pieces for the baby, “alright, i’ll give ya the freedom of choosin’ something on y’r own. go on.”

toji places the various items on megumi’s small tray. the boy stares at the food and picks a piece of strawberry first since the red colour was the most appealing. megumi munches on it, hands as well as his lips getting a bit messy. he didn’t seem to dislike it as his little pouty lips continued to move and digest the fruit.

“okay, so ya like the strawberries. noted.” toji makes a mental note of the new discovery, already planning on buying boxes of strawberries for his son.

once megumi swallowed the piece, the curious boy goes on and picks another type of food. this time it was a yellow coloured piece—one which megumi had no knowledge about. toji did, however, and was already grinning.

the man crossed his arms while he looked down at his kid who was about to go through an unpleasant experience. that’s what builds character according to toji, so why would he intervene and stop megumi from eating a lemon? finding out on his own will teach him a very valuable lesson.

the second megumi’s tongue picks up on the extreme sour taste, his nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowing along with a disgusted noise escaping the back of his throat, “blegh!”

toji bursts out laughing and points at megumi whose tiny fingers were trying to wipe the taste off his tongue, spitting and almost crying from the unfamiliar taste that entered his mouth. most parents would help their child out and give them water to rinse their mouth, however the scene was apparently way too hilarious to your husband for him to even think about rushing to aid megumi.

you turn to see what the commotion was about and spot your son almost in tears from whatever he ate. you frown and walk up to the high-chair, inspecting the squished piece of lemon in megumi’s hand.

“mannnn, that was the funniest stuff i’ve seen in a while.” toji snickers once he calms down, finally grabbing a tissue to wipe megumi’s drool and spit off.

“poor baby.” you watch the small child stare at his dad with a pouty expression on his little face like he was awaiting on an apology of some kind.

even toji can’t deny it: he did somewhat feel bad now. those big and watery eyes looking up at him made him soften in a fraction of a second. the dark-haired man dumps the used tissues in the nearby garbage can and then walks back to the high chair;

“aww, okay, ‘m sorry.” toji coos and lifts megumi up in his embrace, smothering the child with kisses all over his exposed shoulders before softly poking the fat of his cheeks, “can you forgive your daddy, kiddo?”

“da-da!” megumi happily giggles without knowing the meaning of toji’s words. all the kid desired at that instant was more of his dad’s attention and affection. especially after what occurred a moment ago.

megumi was guaranteed to get what he needed since toji was already preparing to tickle and kiss his adorable son all over as an apology.

you chuckle and go back to making breakfast—your ears filled with high-pitched squeals from your son as toji’s voice called out for a ‘tickle attack’.

at least all was well in the end.

#ෆ : parenting 101. #jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #toji fluff #jjk x you #toji x you #crisis averted ehem #shoutout to the requester 4 saving my ass #ilysm

[jeongharine]

syntax ERROR

⚝ wonwoo x reader

⚝ comedy, light smut

⚝ notes: the one where jeon wonwoo is your nerdy math tutor. but he’s unexpectedly hot. and you’re his friend’s sister. obviously.

“a pc bang?” “yes she’s always there,” says hoshi, while munching down his sandwich.

“but i can’t teach her there-” “of course you can’t, but you’ll find her there. it’s the one on the left around the corner,”

“now, remind me why i am doing this,” “because you’re my friend and i’m fantastic at being one,”

wonwoo just gulps down his apple juice, looking at the time on his phone.

“you should change this narrative, it’s getting boring,” “wonu, i just need you to do me this favour because if she doesn’t pass this class it’ll be a problem, okay?”

a sigh. “yes, that’s fine. but only for this class okay?” hoshi grins, all teeth “you’re the best,”

“yeah.. i better be going then, i hope she’s a well-mannered student otherw-” wonwoo says, setting off.

“oh.. about that..” “what?” he stops.

“nothing, she listens well,” hoshi says, scratching the back of his head.

x

she listens well when she wants to, he should have said.

not that this a surprise for wonwoo, knowing her brother. but damn, this girl is getting on his nerves.

“okay y/n, let me be clear. your brother begged me to give you lessons, so now please can we go to the library?”

“nu-uh, i have a tournament here this afternoon. we can do another day,” you crack your fingers and re-position your chair.

“see, maybe this is why you’re not getting through this class. you can do the tournament another day, it’s more important to study matrix systems to pass the exam than gaming,”

“boooooring, i will do that tonight if i feel like it okay? i don’t need your-” you turn your chair around to face him. “...help...”

since when your brother’s friends were this handsome. holy fuck, with that cap on before you couldn’t see anything and maybe he should have kept it on for your sanity. fuck. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. fuckity fuck.

you can see that he is deeply annoyed by your behaviour, probably he’s used to people who take academic life very seriously. nah, he’s friend with hoshi so. you scoff a laugh.

and he’s just there, looking at you, waiting for an answer.

or maybe to beg you.

“but on second thoughts...” you begin to say, “we can come to an agreement..” “that is?” he shifts in his position.

“we game for about an hour, because you game and i can see that just by looking at your face. and then, we can look at the first two chapters of maths analysis. i think this we’ll do, yes.” you grin widely.

and he hates to admit that the grinning suits you best.

wonwoo promised hoshi that he would have at least gotten through the matrix systems today with you, but here he is. without a fucking clue of what to do.

and you are just looking at him smiling prettily, as if you absolutely don’t know how charming and good-looking you are.

so wonwoo just sighs, and turns his head to glance at the pc screen near him.

even his side profile is pretty, you think to yourself.

“fine. but at least let’s play some battlegrounds.”

“can’t promise you anything,” you say pleasantly, eyes creasing in a glittering smile that suddenly makes wonwoo skittish.

x

“do you want to fuck my brains out?”

the air in his little dorm becomes unbearably stuffy all of a sudden but you refuse to let it show, after finally voicing the thoughts that were possessing your head for the past few weeks.

wonwoo turns to face you, looking far more collected. you never would have thought it would all come to a head like this in his room on a monday afternoon. but here you are, feeling a little light headed but inexplicably brave.

“i mean,” you say. “doesn’t every girl on campus you know want you to fuck their brains out?” “that you have to tell me, i don’t think i can give you an answer,” he says, piling up the books on his desk.

he starts to drum his long fingers on the cover of the statistics textbook for a good minute, eyes focused on the dusty windowsill while he is chewing on the inside of his cheek.

and it takes you a second to really make that sink in: wonwoo is restless. he is hanging on your next words.

“so, are you going to say something or you will make me wait here all afternoon?”

you smile. and he hates how his palpitations go up by a notch.

“neither. just knowing that you rubbed one out to the thought of me is closure enough to me.” he clearly tenses up. “who says i have?”

you close your textbook with a thud. “oh, don’t be embarrassed wonu. we’ve all been there at one point or another.”

he’s at the brink of being disgusted with himself for getting a hard on when you just used his nickname like that, but despite it all his heart still leaps up into his throat when you sit up from his bed and collect your bag.

“you touched yourself thinking of me?”

you look at him with one hand on the door handle and wonwoo swears his vision blurs slightly as you grin at him like that.

“you say it like you’re surprised.”

there is no build up, no easing you into the uncharted waters. he kisses open the seam of your mouth without any hesitation, the heat of your tongue against his. it feels so harsh and erotic, so completely unlike the wonwoo you just got to know.

so polite and so pleasant.

but now his hands are on you. and you haven’t had the time to realize your eyes were closed until his hands come up to palm around your waist, searching for skin while you whine against him.

your brain is foggy with the taste of him. he pulls back just as you starts to sway in his arms.

“you don’t even know...” he traces up your back. “..what you do to me, uhm?” you gulp, lips all wet.

the muskiness of him makes your head spin fast, especially when he leaves soft kisses on the skin behind your ear. his mouth is so hypnotic, every move perfectly placed.

“wonwoo,” you stammer, not knowing what else to say. your voice has gone croaky and his hand is venturing up your sweater now, not looking like it would stop any time soon.

your breath catches in your throat when wonwoo trails his fingertips over your clothed breast, dancing across it before brushing the underside. you expected his touches to be harsh, sharp. but they are slow, feather-light. practiced.

his chest heaving like he’s just run a mile, the skin of his stomach hard and hot under your fingers from where you shoved his t-shirt up. his lips are smooth when you inch up to kiss him, gently by his cupid’s bow just to make him grunt. wonwoo’s hands curl around your wrists gently, pampering you with kisses for a couple of minutes before pulling away.

“fuck me,” you whisper. and then, because he has to double take like he didn’t quite hear you right. “fuck me wonwoo, please.”

“please. please, wonu. i’m begging.”

“y/n…” wonwoo growls, because he is really close to pop a blood vessel when you sound all whiny and shameless like that.

“i don’t care if someone will hear us,” you murmur against his mouth before pressing it there for a short kiss. you proceed to trail wet pecks all over his jaw and neck, so that he has to close his eyes with a soft sigh. 

“fuck,” he whispers, “you’re really begging me to fuck you here when your brother could come back any minute,” wonwoo says, kissing you.

it’s getting difficult for you to respond when his hand ventures down to undo your jeans though, mouth hanging open in pleasure while he nips at your bottom lip before pushing you back down on his bed. 

“you have to be extra quiet, okay?” he huffs. and there is something wonderfully satisfying for wonwoo to see you like this, underneath him and all putty in his hands.

“wonu,” you whine again, accepting the soft kiss he presses on your lips before he turns you over and positions you how he wants: on your knees, ass up, face pushed into a pillow to muffle your moans.

“you’re so impatient,” he chuckles behind you, but it sounds so soft. fond, even. he pecks your ear swiftly while you listen to him sliding down your jeans and undies and prepare himself, your heart thudding in anticipation. you’re so thrilled you barely register the embarrassment and awkwardness of being left to wait like this, propped up and ready for him to fuck you stupid. and you gasp when you finally feel his erection against your weeping slit, hot and everything you want.

he keeps grinding against your slick folds. “wonwoo,” you whimper, because his tip keeps slipping in and that alone is making you gush. you push your hips back, tears blurring your sight with how desperately you want him inside you. “please.”

he chuckles softly, leaning over to kiss your shoulder before finally pushing into you.

x

“so, i assume the lessons are going well since you two see each other three times a week now,” hoshi says, voice muffled by the noodles he’s slurping.

his eyes are set on wonwoo’s face, lost in the gimbap in front of him.

because if wonwoo has to be real honest, the lessons are going really well, yes. but also his dating life.

and how can he say that to hoshi... ‘oh yeah, she’s really smart hosh and also a fucking star at giving head!’

in his defence, wonwoo would probably never get over the fact that he has succeded in pulling someone like you. he suddenly turns pink thinking about your pretty smile and your prettier laugh. the glint in your eyes when gaming together and the concentrated face you make when trying to understand math concepts that even he has difficulties in teaching. you clinging onto his arm, the late night ramen runs at the convenience store and your honeyed sighs and moans when you’re in the private of your own.

so yeah, he doesn’t really know where to start with this.

“wonu-yah?” hoshi hisses, and suddenly wonwoo gulps when his friend is holding his stare in a vice grip.

“we’re fucking hosh,” he admits timidly, and hoshi starts swearing.

#wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #wonwoo smut #seventeen fic #wonwoo fic #svt fic #wonwoo x y/n #seventeen smut #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

[rafesslxt]

neglected | mattheo riddle

summary: Theodore completly ignores you and doesnt take it serious that you miss him while he flirts with another girl at a party.. so his best friend has to help you filling up that hole inside your … chest.

warning: cheating? but is it if he does it first?, mattheo eating out the reader, fingering, nipple play, teasing, dirty talk, getting caught, he‘s a munch don‘t fight with me over this -

note: i do not support cheating, this is just for the story

— monday —

I don‘t know how many times I already begged but from time to time.. i felt more and more neglected.

"Theo, please just this one weekend! You had been busy with your friends and studying the last 3 weeks!" Yeah, 3 weeks since my boyfriend went on a date with me, had some quality time or touched me.

"Y/n I told you I don‘t have time. I already promised the boys I‘d come to the party. We‘ll see us there, I have to go study now, with Lydia." Before I could even say a word he left his dorm. I hear a chuckle coming from the other side of the room, making me turn my head in it’s direction.

"Told you you deserve better baby." Mattheo, Theodore‘s best friend said, sitting on his bed. They share a dorm and every now and then he would see Theo and me arguing.

I huff and leave the room, a aching feeling in my body.

— the next day —

"Theo please, I need you. You didn‘t touch me once the last few weeks." I whine into his ear, sitting next to him. He just groans, but not the way I want him to and gets up with his book in his hands. "Don‘t you see that you‘re distracting me?" Irritated he leaves the room, probably walking off to the library again.

Ugh.. i let myself fall back down onto the mattress and cross my arms over my face. Is it my fault? Did my body change somehow? Why the hell won‘t he touch me? But before I could continue my thoughts, I hear the door again, my head shooting up, hoping it is Theo who changed his mind but no, it‘s Mattheo. I groan frustrated and let my head fall back.

"Wow nice to see you too baby, but I think you‘re laying on the wrong bed." he says, teasing me.

"Sometimes I think like that too." I mumble into my arms and more to myself.

"What was that?" he asks. "Nothing."

— two days later —

Patiently I wait on Theo‘s bed, dressed all up.. or down, in his favorite lingerie set and a pair of black knee socks. When we got together half a year ago he told me he loved them on me, made my legs look even longer.

As the door opens my heart starts beating faster and I look up, shrieking and pulling the blanket over my body as I see who it is. "Damn mami is that for me?" Mattheo asks as he stand in front of Theo‘s bed with a smirk on his face, his mouth wide open.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked furious, not wanting him to see me like that. What If Theo comes in and would see us, what would he think?

"Last time I checked this is my room, sweetcheeks." "But you‘re supposed to have quidditch practice!" I whine and look for my clothes.

He chuckles and steps a bit closer as I stand up from the bed. "Could you turn around? I wanna get dressed." "No." "You are such a pain in the ass!" I roll my eyes at him and take my wand, mumbling "Colloportus“. and holding it towards the door so no one can come inside.

I let go of the blanket, thinking fuck it, and grab my skirt, pulling it over my legs and then my hips. "Did your cute little boyfriend leave you unsatisfied again?" he grins and takes a step closer. "You know.. I could help you with that." he says in a suggestive tone. "He’s your best friend Mattheo, stop this shit." "I can’t princess. Hurts me to see that pretty little body of yours, knowing how desperate it must be after all these weeks." he whispers the last part as he lets his fingers slowly brush over my arm, sending shivers down my spine. "See? It’s so hot for just a little attention." "No, it is cold, thats why." I say, swallowing down the clump in my throat as i nod towards the opened window.

Just as I wanted to reach down for my top, I see Mattheo getting down on his knees in front of me. He looks up and licks his lips. Damn.. something about a men on his knees for me made me feel slme type of way.

"Please let me touch your legs, please. Need to know how soft these pretty thighs feel." I could feel his warm breath against my skin, again, sending shivers down my… spine. wet pussy

"Mattheo get the fuck up I swear to god!" i hiss at him. Yes I closed the door with a spell but it wasn‘t really hard for everyone above first years to open it with a spell.

"Please, I swear If you let me just touch it I‘m gonna leave you alone for the rest of the week!" he pleads, looking at my face and then my legs. I sigh as I think about letting him. Damn was I really thinking about it? Am I really going to let my boyfriends best friend touch my thighs?

But I mean.. nothing’s wrong If I don‘t feel anything for it, right? Plus he would just leave me alone for a bit. "Fine." I press out.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel his big warm hands on my thighs. "Shit.." he mumbles as he lets them wander up and down my legs. He slighty squeezes them, making me sigh in relief.

I feel his curls against my skin before I can look down and see him kissing my flesh, grabbing it with a bit more strengh now. I had to bite my bottom lip as he starts massaging them. Completly lost in thoughts, I realize too late what he was doing.

Suddenly he stands up and kisses my cheek "Thank you, doll.", before leaving the dorm and leaving me breathless in the middle of the room. As I slowly come back from the dizzy feeling inside my head I again, stretch over to get my top but gasp with shaky breathing as I see what Mattheo left on my skin.

A hickey. And a bite mark. I didn‘t even notice him biting my leg. Shit.

— Saturday —

To say i was pissed, while sitting on a chair in some corner of the common room, was a big understatement. Theodore and I arrived at the party he talked about a few days ago.. 2hours ago. I saw him drinking with his friends and playing truth or dare in a little group, always walking away from me as soon as I approached him. So I decided to stop chasing him.

"What are you doing here all alone sweetcheeks?" I look to my right and see Mattheo. Of course it was him. "Leave me alone." I say, rolling my eyes and looking back to my boyfriend, sitting beside this girl named Lydia. She was a year under us I think.

Mattheo followed my gaze and shakes his head. "Well , the deal was I would leave you alone till end of the week. The week is over." I don‘t even answer him, not in the mood to argue.

"Yeah thanks for the hickey and the mark between." i say sarcastically. "Yeah it‘s not like your boyfriend would see, right?"

I roll my eyes again and look back at Theodore, to see him standing up. What was he going to do? Suddenly I see him taking Lydia‘s hand, pulling her up with him and kissing her. In shock I opened my mouth, but instead of crying like i normally would, my face got red in anger.

I tried everything and here he stands sucking of the face of that stupid thot. In the middle of the common room? With the girl he "studys" all the time? I bet that’s not the first time they kiss. Mattheo seems to see it too and looks at me more serious now. "Hey.. are you okay? I mean he‘s not worth it If you - " but before he can continue I grab him at the collor of his shirt and drag him with me to his dorm.

— 30 minutes later —

"Oh fuck yes, Mattheo!" I moan into the air, pushing his head against me while his lips suck on my clit, his fingers pumping inside me. "Shit who would have known that you go this feral for my tounge huh?" he smiles and mumbles against my skin.

"Stop talking and continue!" I whine and push his head back. I hear him chuckle before he laps at my throbbing clit again. God If I would have known how good this feels I would have had ended things with Theo way sooner.

His free hand slides across my body up to my left boob where he started to tease my nipple. I gasp and push my hips up, arching my back. My body was so sensitive I wanted to cry out of pleasure everytime he touched me somewhere.

It didn‘t took me long before my body starts trembling and shaking, Mattheo licking everything up as I come on his tounge.

"I could get drunk on your pussy." he groans before kissing me, making me taste myself on his lips.

"I hope you‘re ready cause that pussy screams for me." he whispers against my lips before going down on me again.

A few minutes in I hear someone yell. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

My head shot up and I looked to the door where Theo stood, looking ag us with an angry face.

I saw Mattheo looking at him over his shoulder, smiling at him with glistening lips. "Hey men, hope you don‘t mind? We got the impression you were busy.. never mind – bro how could you not eat that pussy like.. all day?"

"I‘m gonna kill you, Riddle!"

shorter than usual but I liked it 🌼

thanks for reading and supporting 🫶🏻

xoxo sarah <3

#slytherin boys #slytherin imagine #slytherin smut #harry potter imagine #theodore nott oneshot #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x reader #harry potter masterlist #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #sub mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle

[cottonconnielvr]

❥MONDAY — c. springer

seven days a week.

PAIRINGS ✩ — plug!connie x fem!black!reader

WARNINGS ✩ — both are under influence, spitting, usage of 🍃, hair pulling if you squint, fuck idk i suck at warnings just smut at the end leave me alone i can’t deal rn + i’ll come back to edit

CONNIE has been unfocused more than usual. He has high energy usually and is bouncing from task to task but today, he can’t seem to grasp reality.

“Bro is you good?” Onyankopon says in between a laugh. He had been calling Connie’s name for about a minute. Connie looked up from the counter, multiple packs of weed sitting on the counter. Ony was looking back from his spot on the cream colored couch, his dark green tracksuit making him stand out.

“…Yeah” Connie nodded his head at him, continuing to place weed on a scale. “Yeah ight…i’ve been calling your name” Ony walks around to the kitchen island. “Well I didn’t hear you” Connie snaps back at him.

Ony smacks his teeth, bucking at Connie. “Yo sassy ass be around Sasha too much”. Connie shook his head. “You remember that one drop we did at Marco’s yesterday….” Connie suddenly brings up.

Ony looks up, thinking back to the previous day. The party was big, he gave a couple college girls a 3.5 then left by himself. “Yeah…why?” Ony asked in confusion, now wondering if something happened to make him bring it up. Ony and Connie were like brothers, they had committed to this game together. They protected each other all the time.

“Do you remember seeing Sasha with a girl wearing pink beside her?” Connie specifies, thinking back to his first time spotting you.

“Yeah you talking about Y/N?” Connie nods his head, Y/N

“What about her?”

“Nothing, jus asking” Connie lies to Ony. There was something. Connie’s mind had been suffocated by the thought of you. He remembers how you smiled at everyone Sasha introduced you to. He also remembered how you looked up into his eyes, yours red and low.

He told you his name and you told him his– atleast he thought you did. The music was playing so loud he didn’t hear you. But that was the last thing he was worried about, he was focused on the way you were staring him down.

Since he woke up this morning he’s been thinking about the mystery girl who sucked the soul out of him. The mystery girl who’s pussy was the wettest and warmest he’s ever been in.

He cried everytime he came that night, that’s never happened before. He hoped you didn’t notice, not wanting to creep you out. He also wondered if you enjoyed it as much as he did, and if you were thinking about this particular hookup all day as well.

He’s never felt anything like you before. You had to be a crystal bitch or somethingggg like pussy putting spells onna nigga🫃🫃

He just hopes he can meet you again, for a proper introduction.

❥

You sip on your Starbucks Frappuccino, two small Tiffany and Co. bags in your other hand. You were walking down a shopping outlet, deciding to spend your free time shopping. For the past couple of days, you’ve been straight partying. The most recent one was a bit memorable though. You were pretty cross faded and had some of the best sex in your life. You couldn’t exactly remember who it was with though. He was wearing light blue and white, you can accurately remember. Tattoos all over and he smelled amazing. But his name?…..can’t exactly remember that one. You just brushed it off though, maybe he’ll come around again but you weren’t worried.

Your phone started to vibrate in your back pocket. You grabbed it before reading the contact name, ‘Sash🫶🏾🤍’

You pressed the green icon, Sasha’s face appearing on the screen. “You gotta come to this kickback” She says before you can speak.

“Girlll, i’ve been out for days. I think I still have a hangover” You whined, looking up at the Coach sign before walking in. “Well it’s not like an actual kickback. Jean is just throwing a get together,” You sighed, looking down at Sasha as she was munching on some chips. “Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! It’s gonna be like fifty people max” She pleaded, bringing her face super close to the camera.

“Okay fineee,” You groan, sipping the last of your Frappuccino. “What’s the dress code?”

“Mmmm… sexy casual” Sasha nodded her head. “Kk, I’m gonna finish up shopping babe. Send me the addy” You said your goodbyes before hanging up.

❥

Connie laid back on Jean’s couch manspreading. He had a blunt in one hand, the other resting on the couch. He had no tasks for the rest of the day and decided on stopping by Jean’s, a mutual friend.

His eyes were already red and low, he could start to feel his munchies kick in. He smoked the last of the roach before putting it out. There’s a good amount of people here. Maybe about 30 or 40.

Some people smoking hookah in the corner, some outside just chatting. The vibe was calmer than what the house parties he usually attends are.

“Ay Con!” Connie looks back from his spot on the couch. “Come take a shot!” Eren called him over,holding up a shot glass. Connie wasn’t much of a drinker but did every once in a while. It simply wasn’t for him. Standing up and walking over to the island, he hears a familiar voice speaking from the door.

“Wowwww shots without us?!” Sasha walks over from the door, you trailing behind her. Connie can feel his heartbeat pick up. It’s you. Your now standing infront of him, looking 10x more stunning.

“Y’all remember Y/N” Sasha gestured to you while snatching the bottle from Eren.

“Hey” You flashed a smile that made Connie jr harden just a bit. Your eyes wandered around the room. Not too many people, but enough for you to have to raise your voice a little if you’re trying to have a conversation.

Your eyes stopped on a pair that were only staring right back at you. You could feel your breath hitch. Holy shit no way

❥

The night has been filled with pure tension. Sexual tension at that. You’ve come to find out that ,mystery boy with a huge dick, name is actually Connie. The entire night he’s had his eyes on you, both of you keeping eye contact. A part of you kept wanting to look back from your spot on the couch. You’d only immediately find his eyes. It was as if you were silently conversing. You both wanted more of eachother, but how do you approach your “one” night stand asking for just another round.

“Imma go get a refill” You say to Jean, passing him the hookah. He nodded before continuing to converse with Sasha.

You walked into the kitchen, holding your red cup in one hand. Much to your surprise, Connie was the only one in the kitchen. He was sitting on the counter, his head down and all his attention focused on the blunt he was currently rolling.

You walk over to where all the bottles were, Connie’s head immediately lifting as he gets a whiff of sweet perfume. You smile to yourself when you feel his stare on you. You pour a little hennessy in your cup before turning around.

Connie’s looking at you with his eyes low and redder than before. You keep eye contact with him as you sip from your cup. Your gloss staining your cup.

Connie watches you closely, focusing on every single detail about you. He’s wondering what makes you so different from any other girl he’s been with.

“Why aren’t you with everyone else?” You decide to speak first, breaking the ice. Connie can feel his dick twitch at the sound of your voice, a slight rasp from the burning of the alcohol.

Your thighs clench together as you watch Connie lick his lips. “Shit…..guess I was waiting for you to come to me.” His voice coming out low and deep.

The tension in the kitchen is so high right now, even Ony who’s sitting on the couch can feel it.

A lazy smile breaks out on your face, Connie’s too as he licks the blunt. His eyes never look away from yours, dragging his tongue across the wood. You can even see his tongue piercing that was deep in your pus-

“Mhmm, well i’m here now so…” You trail off, walking a bit closer to him. You can smell his cologne from where you stand. Your intoxication was making this no better for you, as well as the PartyNextDoor that’s playing in the background.

You watch as Connie lights his blunt. He brings it to his lips before puffing twice, just to make sure it’s lit. He sucks in a breath before blowing the smoke out. He reaches his hands out, holding out the blunt to you.

You hesitate before moving closer, taking it from him. You reach for a napkin to wipe your lipgloss off but Connie only grabs your wrist. “You don’t have too, i’m okay with it”

“Oh…okay” You bring the blunt up to your lips, the smoke immediately making you cough. “God damn, strong ass…” You can’t finish your sentence through a fit of coughs. Connie lightly laughs as he reaches to grab an unopened water bottle on the counter.

You could already feel like you were baked off of just one hit, your eyes looking a little sleepy. “I’m already high what the fuck…” You blinked up at Connie.

“I guess i’m just used to it” He hits it again. “You’re literally smoking the devils lettuce. That shit came straight from hell” You take a gulp of water.

Connie could tell you were a lot less tense. For some reason you trusted him like a lot… even though you’ve never had a full conversation with him.

“I enjoyed last night a lot” You lean against the counter, head tilting. You know that you’re being bold all of a sudden but fuck, this man was too fine.

Behind his faux chill demeanor, Connie was freaking out. He wanted to feel you again. He never wanted you to stop talking and he could look at you for hours.

“Yeah, me too” He’s fighting his anxiety, trying not to seem to excited to be talking to you. He was praying, even crossing his toes that he would be able to get another look at your naked body.

You bit on your lower lip, contemplating on whether or not you should keep making the moves.

“I’m gonna…go to the bathroom” You trail off, not giving Connie another word before walking off with your cup.

Connie almost jumps off the counter, fighting the urge to throw his rolling tray to the side and follow you right to the bathroom. He wanted you to keep talking to him. Connie watched you walk up the stairs, he couldn’t miss this opportunity.

❥

“Fuck, talk to me mama” Connie breathes into your ear, your hair roughly tangled around his fist. You can feel him in your stomach, punching your cervix over and over.

“Ah-mmph..I can’t” Your hands hold onto the sink, grasping it harder than you can grasp reality.

Connie feels a bit bad that he wishes he didn’t have on a condom right now, wanting to feel you raw.

“Yes you can, you are now —fuck— aren’t ya?” Connie taunts you, his hand reaching down to rub your clit. “I don’t want p-people to hear” Your head rests on Connie’s shoulder.

“Why not? Don’t want anyone to know how much of a slut you are?” Your eyebrows furrow, you were pretty sure you saw tears falling down Connie’s eyes the first time you hooked up. You clenched around him purposely, earning a whine from him.

“Oh i’m a slut?” You lifted your head back up to look at him in the mirror. You used Connie’s vulnerable state to push him off of you, giving him no time to be confused before you drop to your knees.

“What the– fuck” Connie groans out. You watch as this grown man literally slaps his hand over his mouth. Your tongue runs up his cock, licking up all your wetness. You rise up, peeling Connie’s hand off of his mouth. He watched you intently. You squished his cheeks together before spitting your wetness in his mouth.

A part of you feels really really slutty. No man has really made you feel like this. Yeah sure you wanted him but you wanted him to chase after you, not the other way around.

You watch Connie swallow with no hesitation. “You’re cool and all Connie, but I don’t even know you. It’ll take a little more than a blunt.” You watch Connie’s mouth open agape.

He was very very confused. He thought you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. You let him eat you out before letting him put his dick inside you. Then you suddenly stop him? What the fuck-

“Just letting you know, i’m a bit expensive” You fix your clothes and hair in the mirror.

“Bye Connie” You sweetly say, before exiting the bathroom, leaving Connie with a rock hard erection.

“Fuck i’m too high for this” Connie face palms himself. No way he just let a girl edge him.

@getoscrybaby @ginger4sugar @cybercandy1 @rintcrous @conniesministallion @junevenile @yourrfavzxri @reinerszn @lowkeysumgyall @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @royalty-cashinout @lovelytayy @starpdfs @syarblu @urmotherswhor3 @simp4tenko @emery-333 @hopefuloperaangelnerd @pinkfqiry @donutsrsweetbagels @katymae12344@urivl @mdibby @dezibou @dramaticOflwer @animeloverzx @y3rn4y0n yOn @honeyxluv @jupittterrrrr @iikatsukii @glossygirrll @severenswife @h3v3n1y + many more beautiful people <3

Please message me to be removed or added to my taglist🫶🏾

#aot x black reader #aot smut #aot headcanons #aot x you #connie springer #aot x reader #connie springer x y/n #connie springer x black reader #connie springer x reader #connie springer x black reader smut #connie snk #connie springer smut #connie springer x you #connie springer x black!reader #connie smut #connie x black reader #connie x black!reader #connie x black y/n #plug!connie x black reader #plug!connie

[fandomfucker]

Poly TJD x reader angst/ fluff

Reader is sick but insists on her partners going to work. But while her partners are at work she tries to get up but passes out in the living room by the couch. Partners arrive home and find her still pressed out. Turns out to be severe flu

A/N I'm sick and miserable right now as well and I fully believe this one-shot cursed me. This is also exactly how I act but I was a good girl and I take liquid medicine😤

Word count: 2,725

Reader's POV

The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. Smiles graced the four beautiful faces of my partners around the breakfast table.

And I felt like dogshit.

My throat was on fire while my head pounded. My nose was so stuffed it was like trying to breathe through a brick wall and I was freezing to death.

My partners were up a bit earlier than usual because they had to go to work soon and I could hear them in the dining room downstairs. Tonight was Monday Night RAW and all four of them were required to be there for a surprise match involving Dominik and Finn.

Stumbling down the stairs into the kitchen, I tried not to trip over the king-sized comforter I had wrapped around myself and dragged off the bed.

Making a beeline for the medicine cabinet I kept my eyes on the floor in front of me, refusing to even accidentally make eye contact with any of my partners for fear of them hounding me with their overprotectiveness.

Rifling through the different bottles I kept a lookout for the cold medicine one. After searching for a few minutes I eventually gave up, accepting that we didn't have anymore, and just grabbed some ibuprofen instead.

I turned around to go grab a cup of water and screamed as I jumped, dropping the medicine bottle as I came face to face with my four partners.

"Holy shit! You guys scared me." I pouted, resting a hand over my chest to calm my racing heart as I bent over and rested the other hand on my knee.

"Whatcha doin', love?" Finn asked me bemused as the other three stood around him, all with a look of confusion, concern, or both on their faces.

"Nothing. I just have a bit of a headache and I'm really cold. Nothin' to worry about Loves." I gave them all a small smile as I leaned down to pick up the dropped bottle.

I winced in pain as all the blood rushed to my forehead, only increasing the force of my pounding headache.

"Let me get that, Babe." Rhea swooped in, pushing me to stand back up as she grabbed the medicine bottle for me. "Go lay down."

I shook my head slightly as she moved to grab me water to take my pills with as Dominik held my shoulders and guided me to the living room couch.

He gently pushed me to sit down before sitting next to me, rubbing my back to bring some warmth to my body.

Finn and Damian were not far behind and sat on the floor in front of me, each of them propped up on one of my thighs.

I glared up at Rhea as she came back with cold medicine, a bottle of water, some saltine crackers, a box of tissues, and a thermometer.

"You need to eat something before you take the medicine," She shoved the crackers in my hands before I could protest, taking the open seat on my other side as she brushed my hair out of my face. "Do you want me to make you any soup?"

"No, thank you. But don't you guys have to go to work?" I asked annoyed.

"Not if you're sick, mi amor." Damian soothed me as he rubbed my knee.

"I'm fine. If anything it's just a little cold." I reassured them, opening the crackers and beginning to munch on them.

"Yeah, well we'll see about that won't we?" Rhea announced as she got the thermometer ready to check my temperature.

"Stay still Babe." She ordered softly as she held the machine to my forehead, waiting for the beep that signaled it was done.

Having stopped mid-chew to fulfill her orders, I waited until the beep sounded and the item was removed from my face before continuing to eat my crackers.

Rhea frowned as she looked at the results.

"101.2. That's a minor fever, Hermosa." Damian informed the group, reading the thermometer over Rhea's shoulder from the floor still.

"It's literally fine." I rolled my eyes, right before I went into a small sneezing fit.

Dominik grabbed a couple of tissues from the box on my lap and hurriedly thrust them into my hands.

"Aw, fuck that hurt my throat." I groaned, throwing my head back against the couch as I wiped at my nose with the mountain of tissues.

"I'll call Paul, tell him we can't fight tonight," Finn announced as he stood up to go get his phone.

"No! No, no, no, no, no. Absolutely not. All four of you are going to go to Raw tonight and kick ass. Don't worry about me, I'm fine. I swear." I protested.

"You pinkie promise?" Dominik asked me, his puppy eyes were fully showcased as he held up his finger for me to interlock with my own.

"Pinkie promise." I smiled, wrapping my pinkie around his before bringing our hands to my lips to seal the promise with a kiss.

I looked to Finn to make sure he wouldn't go and call their boss and say they couldn't come.

His eyes darted to Rhea, ever the leader of the group, and nodded before sitting back down.

"We better start getting our stuff ready to leave then, chicos," Damian spoke, standing up and kissing my forehead before making his way to the bedroom we all shared.

The other three followed in his footsteps, kissing my forehead and then going to the bedroom. Rhea being the only one who lingered.

"Hey," I took her hand in mine, bringing her even closer to me. "I feel a little under the weather, but I promise I'll still be in one piece by the time you all get back. I'll take some medicine and a nap and be good as new in no time."

She bit her lip, still hesitant to leave me alone. She eventually gave in and nodded, giving me a long lingering kiss on the forehead before following the boys to the bedroom.

I reached a hand away from the blanket cocoon I'd stuck myself in to grab the remote from the coffee table and turned the TV on, beginning to channel surf.

About ten minutes later all four of my partners walked out of the bedroom, bags in tow.

"We have to get going now if we're gonna make it in time to get ready before the show, muñeca," Damian informed me, gingerly sitting beside me to stroke my hair.

I nodded my understanding, still eating the crackers like Rhea told me to as I paid most of my attention to Child's Play on the screen in front of me.

"Y/n?" Finn tried to get my attention, deciding to just grab my face and turn it towards him after I only made a noise of acknowledgment at him.

He then grabbed my hand and dropped two rather large-looking pills into it. "Take these, please. They'll make you feel better, and then you can take two more in another four hours, okay?"

I nodded my head, gulping at the sheer size of the medication. I was not a huge pill person and my partners knew that.

Damian kissed my right temple and Finn my left as they said their goodbyes for the night, getting up to make room for the other two to say their own goodbyes.

Dom placed his hands on my cheeks, kissing my forehead and whispering a small prayer in Spanish against my skin before making room for Rhea.

She sat down next to me and put a hand on my thigh, telling the boys she'd meet them in the car.

I waved and blew a kiss to my boys as they walked out before focusing on Rhea's beautiful face.

"Be a good girl for Mami and take those pills, okay? I know they're really big but they'll make you feel better. We'll be back before you know it but if you need anything at all just call and we'll answer." She looked deep into my eyes, meaning every word as her thumb stroked my thigh.

"I will Mami," I answered.

She smiled and kissed me on the cheek before getting up and making her exit to the car. She blew me one of her signature kisses before closing the door behind her.

Looking back at the ginormous pills in my hand, I decided that I didn't really feel bad enough to take them. I'd be fine.

I spent the next few hours slowly finishing off my crackers throughout a horror movie marathon as I made my way through the box of tissues as well.

My headache had gotten worse, to the point that I was a little dizzy and disoriented. Deciding to take the much smaller ibuprofen pills, I unwrapped myself from my fluffy burrito of blankets and stood up.

I immediately swayed a bit but just chalked it up to the headache and gingerly made my way to the kitchen.

Pausing in the doorway of the kitchen I rested a hand on the wall to brace myself, tightly closing my eyes in an effort to rid the dizziness.

Opening my eyes, I continued to make my way back to the medicine cabinet, grabbed the ibuprofen, and then turned around to make my way back to the solace of my fuzzy cocoon.

A huge wave of dizziness came over me as I reached the corner of the couch. I stumbled, tripping over my own feet, and hit the floor, seeing spots right before seeing nothing.

3rd Person POV

The four members of the Judgment Day walked out of the arena, jovial after their win. Shoving into each other as they joked and laughed, they made their way to their truck.

"Stop!" Damian shouted joyfully as he laughed, shoving Dominik away from him before he could make another wild jab. "I'm gonna call Y/n and check-in, I'll be right there."

The other three voiced their acknowledgment as they continued making their way to the car while Damian stayed back and pulled out his phone, hitting the stared contact.

The line rang. And rang. And rang before eventually going to voicemail. Frowning, Damian hit the call button again which rang until going to voicemail again.

Hurriedly making his way to the truck, he hopped into the passenger side and turned to the rest of the group. "She's not answering."

The three other members looked at him with concern.

"Well, she's probably just asleep, right? I mean, she was pretty tired when we left and the medicine might've knocked her out. Not to mention it's pretty late." Dominik tried to reason, hoping to God that that was all it was.

"Yeah." Rhea agreed, "But let's just speed home anyways, right?" She nodded toward Finn who was in the driver's seat.

Finn nodded, shifting the car into drive and taking off, speeding home to their girl.

In the backseat of the truck, Rhea and Dom took turns trying to call Y/n again to no avail. Six missed calls later the group was now very worried. Typically, Y/n never had her ringer off and was generally a pretty light sleeper, so her being able to sleep through a total of eight full rings was alarming.

"Finn?" Rhea ventured, her voice beginning to shake slightly. "Drive faster."

~Time Skip~

Throwing open the car doors, all four Judgment Day members hopped out of the truck and ran to the front door. Finn quickly unlocked the door and they all battled to make it through the door first. Rhea being Rhea won and was already running to the living room where they'd left her earlier that day.

"Y/n?" Rhea called out, not seeing anything amiss at first glance. However, coming around the corner she noticed a pair of fuzzy sock-clad feet on the ground. Walking closer she saw the full form of their partner face down, unconscious.

"Y/n!" She ran over and fell to her knees beside Y/n, rolling her over and checking her pulse.

The boys immediately came running as they heard Rhea scream. Damian saw Rhea checking Y/n's pulse as she lay on the floor, along with the dropped bottle of ibuprofen, pills having spilled out all over the floor, and immediately thought the worst.

"Finn! Call an ambulance!"

~Time Skip~

Reader's POV

Somewhere far off I could hear the jumbled voices of my four partners hushedly arguing. I couldn't quite make out what they were arguing about but I could hear the clear upset in their voices.

I groggily opened my eyes, immediately closing them again as the harsh fluorescent lights around me hurt my eyes.

"Y/n?" I heard a voice speak from next to me. It was then I noticed that both of my hands were encased in two others.

I made a noise that vaguely sounded like 'ugh' before I opened my eyes again just a smidge. I felt one of four hands disappear from my touch and then the lights went out before I felt them come back again.

Opening my eyes a bit more I saw the beautiful faces of my four partners looking back at me. Rhea was on my right with Finn next to her, Damian and then Dom were on my left.

"Hey, sweetheart. How ya feelin'?" Rhea smiled softly at me, stroking my hair. I noticed her hand was shaking a bit so I squeezed the other hand that I was already holding.

"My head hurts and my nose is still pretty stuffy, but other than that, okay I guess." I smiled sleepily, pushing my head further into her hand like a cat so she wouldn't stop.

Damian's deep voice sounded next, switching my attention to the other side of the bed. "You had us pretty worried there, corazón."

I just frowned at him in confusion. "Why? What happened?"

It was then that I started to survey my surroundings beyond my partners and saw that I was lying in a hospital bed.

"You passed out, love." Finn supplied from further down the bed. I could hear the fear in his voice, the shakiness of it mixed with the pure relief made me want to cry.

Remembering why I had even passed out in the first place made me feel so incredibly guilty. If I had just taken the medicine like Mami told me to we wouldn't even be in this situation in the first place.

My lip started to quiver and I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey, mi amor. We aren't mad, it's okay." Dominik immediately stood up and leaned towards me, trying to calm me down so that I wouldn't cry and make my sinuses worse.

I heaved a deep breath in, looking up at the ceiling to try and reduce the waterworks before they could actually overflow. 

"I'm so-" I started to apologize to the four of them for scaring them so badly but was cut off by Rhea. 

"No, baby. We're sorry. We all know that you don't like taking pills, especially ones as big as the ones we gave you. I should've just gone out and gotten you the liquid version so you would actually take it and-"

I cut Rhea off by placing a finger over her lips to silence her. Typically I would've just kissed her but I didn't want to get her sick. 

"It's okay. They really weren't that big. I could've taken them, I just chose not to." I explained timidly.

"Well," Damian cleared his throat, gaining the room's attention. "The doctors said that you have a pretty bad case of the flu but so long as you take some Tamiflu for the next couple of days, have lots of rest and lots of liquids you'll be right as rain in no time."

"Yeah, doc said you can be out of here in a few hours." Dom continued.

I just nodded my head and smiled softly at my partners.

"Still, I'm sorry for scaring you guys." I apologized timidly, keeping my eyes on my fingers as I drew circles on whatever parts of my partners I could reach, not wanting to meet their eyes.

"Y/n, you're sick and honestly you probably would've passed out either way. So, believe us when we tell you that there's absolutely nothing to be sorry for." Finn explained to me earnestly.

"Ok," I agreed quietly. I didn't really feel like arguing with them, especially since he made a pretty good point.

"Go ahead and go back to sleep, babe. We'll get that discharge paperwork started and get you home in no time." Rhea told me. I decided to take her up on that since I was still so exhausted.

Closing my eyes, I murmured a small "I love you" to the group, hearing four voices echoing it back in response just before losing consciousness again. On purpose this time.

#rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #the judgement day #the judgement day x reader #tjd x reader #wwe raw #wwe #damian priest #damian priest x reader #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #finn balor x reader #finn balor #monday night raw #the judgment day #the judgment day x reader #the judgment day wwe

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Too Close For Comfort: The Night Before

--genre + trope: collegeAU!, SMUT, fluff, nsfw (not safe for work)

--pairing: tasm!peter parker x afab!reader

--word count: 2.6k

--warnings: P in V, nsfw, fluff/smut, cunnilingus, fingering, peter is a munch, peter's ambidextrous, unprotected sex (don't do this), and SO MUCH LOVE.

--gif credits: @peachyspaceslvt

Monday, October 18

The smell of garlic with hints of basil lingers throughout the halls of your shared apartment, along with the sounds of the city echoing in the kitchen. Wearing Peter’s shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, you nod your head to the beat as light jazz fills the air with a sort of warmth, it feels like home. Yet something was missing, a certain presence. 

As if putting it into existence, the familiar creak of the wooden door makes you stand up a bit straighter, your head turning towards the hallway. “There he is, the man of the hour,” you joke. An unknown force seems to pull you to him, forgetting the meal entirely.

A familiar smirk etches its way onto the man’s face, “Were you thinking about me, sweetheart?” 

That’s a stupid question, “Maybe I was, Maybe I wasn’t,” You tease, shrugging your shoulders theatrically. “Guess you’ll never know,” You walk back over to the food on the stove. 

Knowing he was going to follow you, you refuse to give him the satisfaction of your attention. The recognizable feeling of his arms wrapping around you sends a warm feeling through your body, his head falling into the crook of your neck. His warm breath fanning the sensitive skin on your neck sends a welcoming shiver down your spine. While swaying back and forth to the music you previously put on, you bask in this moment together. A grin makes its way to your face. 

“What do you think you're doing?” A pocket of peace that comes rarely to both of you, makes everything worth it. Every late night, every missed text, and every moment of worry makes this single moment worth it. 

He feels you slightly move in his arms, and loosens his hold just enough for you to turn around and face him. You come face to face with a cheeky smirk written on his face. He’s blissed out, too consumed by the mere presence of you to think about anything else. You envelop every single thought in his mind at this very moment. There is no mid-term he needs to study for, there are no bills to take care of, and there is no Spider-Man. Just (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Peter Parker. 

Too overwhelmed with his thoughts, his eyes flick between your eyes and your slightly pursed lips. “Are you going to kiss me, Parker?” He creeps closer to you, your back hitting the counter behind you. 

“And what if I did, (Y/L/N)?” He asked teasingly. 

A breathy laugh makes its way from your lips, “Then do it.” 

The boy pulled you in and then he kissed you. You felt as if your heart exploded a thousand times over in your chest. He held you close and drew you in as if he’s been yearning for you for years, but it's just been a few hours. You feel one of his arms unravel from around your waist, you hear the flame of the stove flick off. 

He brings that same hand up to cradle your face in his palm. He cranes your neck upward deepening the kiss, his hand moves to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair. His weight pushes you deeper into the counter, making you gasp at the feeling of it digging into your skin. There is no more space between Peter’s body and the surface behind you, only making it harder for you to kiss back.  

He breaks away from the kiss, noticing your discomfort, but you try to brush it off and kiss him again. He removes his hand from your now raveled hair, placing both hands on your thighs as he lifts you up onto the counter. His eyes dance across your face in his lust-filled trance. He brings both hands up to your face and quickly brings his lips back to yours before you can get another thought out. 

A moment passes when all you can do is pull back and look at each other, wondering where this energy came from. Before either of you can say anything Peter hoists you over his shoulder and starts walking to your shared bedroom. All you can do is laugh at how eager he is to take you to bed. While he is about to reach the door, a playful look arises to your face. You reach both hands down and give a hefty squeeze to his cheeks, giggling loudly while doing it. 

Out of surprise, he looks down at you, still walking, “Whoa there,” he laughs. 

Another chuckle leaves your lips, “I’m sorry! I had to, I was right there-”. He cuts you off with a quick motion to place you on your bed. 

“You want to be funny so bad,” He teases, dragging himself from the foot of the bed to meet you face to face. 

“You don’t think I’m funny-” You begin to say before he plants his lips firmly back onto yours. He sets both elbows beside your head to hold himself up as he manages to set his body in between your legs. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t move from beneath him. You manage to take a deep breath in, only for him to steal it back from you again as he kisses the sensitive spot on your neck. He knows exactly what he’s doing, A soft hum leaves your mouth followed by a low whimper. Peter’s heightened senses pick up on all of your noises and movements, and you know this too. His right-hand moves from beside your head to move under your shirt, his shirt actually, and slowly glides to your left breast. 

He circles a finger around your nipple as you whimper again, a little louder this time. He begins to place sloppy kisses along your jawline and then down your neck, only adding to your arousal. He decides to ditch the shirt altogether, quickly pulling it off of you. Taking a second to admire you under him, he smiles to himself, completely in love with you and the idea that he is able to be in your life. “What’s wrong?” a pang of worry clouds through her mind. 

He smiles, “Nothing. You’re beautiful.” 

He takes off his shirt following his remark. You can’t help your wandering eyes as they trace every inch of his torso. You notice that familiar outline in his jeans, not too obvious, but definitely there. He reaches down slightly to pick up your hand, and without another second passing by he brings your knuckles to your lips and gives it the most delicate kiss. Tilting his head down, he cascades his way down your arm, pouring every ounce of love he has for you in each kiss until he meets your shoulder. Still holding your hand, he pulls you up to meet each other in a lustful gaze. 

Your legs slide out from under his and you both are kneeling in front of each other. Your hand leaves his and you place it on the button of his jeans, never breaking each other's gaze. You attach your lips to the base of his throat while your hand works to unbutton his pants. He groans in your ear as his forehead falls onto your shoulder. Carefully and slowly you tease the waistband of his briefs, not yet dipping under the material. His breath coming out unevenly as you tease him. 

You take your other hand and place it along his jaw forcing his gaze to meet yours before you fervently attach your lips to his. Your other hand still teasing the sensitive area of skin. He groans into your mouth as you dip your hand further down. You remove his lips from yours and quickly reattach them to the skin below his ear. His hands grabbed at her hips, not matching her handwork and teasing the waistband of her shorts. She began to suck on the skin of his collarbone, causing him to curse under his breath. 

“Fuck, I love you,” He mumbles into your ear. He’s no longer able to take the teasing and sits up on his knees allowing you full access to pulling his jeans and briefs down his legs. 

Carefully he places his hands on both sides of your head, on the pillow, before pushing you onto your back. With a sudden haste, Peter lowers his hands to the edge of your shorts, hooking his fingers under your underwear as well. You pick up on his actions and lift your butt off of the bed to give him easier access. The moment your clothes are off your body, they are quickly and mindlessly discard them on the floor somewhere in the room. 

You bend your knees to allow him to slide his arms under your legs while opening them as he makes his way up to your center. He makes himself comfortable and pulls you by your thighs, allowing him to be closer to your core, causing you to gasp in surprise. There is no hesitation for him to put his mouth where you need him most. He’s been waiting all night for this exact moment. Hours could have gone by, and Peter wouldn’t have noticed. All he needed was you, in your rawest form, writhing in pleasure. He focuses his attention on the collection of nerves first, then works his way down to lap at your juices that coat his tongue so perfectly. There was not a moment where he didn’t savor this moment, not a moan unheard, and not a reaction ignored. 

When he feels you’re ready, he slips his middle finger in. His digit is soaked by the time his knuckles reach your entrance. Pumping in and out, he searches for the gummy area that you love so much. He feels you tense as his finger curls inside of you, “Is that my spot?” he mutters, as you begin to whine in anticipation, “Oh yeah, that’s my spot.” Once he’s found it, there’s no end until he pulls out an orgasm from you. You know that, and he definitely knows that. 

He latches his mouth back on you, and along with his finger, it doesn’t take much longer for you to reach that high that you craved. Your back arches and you reach for anything you could hold onto. He notices this as you clench his middle finger. He pries his other hand off your thigh to hold yours. Your brain is empty, and all you can think about is Peter. You squeeze his hand so tight that he has to pause his mouth and finger to look up at you, wanting to witness what he thinks is the most beautiful part of you. He slips his finger out and raises his head to lay on your thigh, still holding your hand. He begins to rub his thumb on the back of your hand. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” He speaks softly, as if not to pull you out of this lustful trance. His eyes never leave your panting figure. 

Breathlessly you reply with a sly grin, “Never better.”. You begin to sit up, taking a second before Peter follows your lead and sits up as well. Mindlessly reaching down to his cock to reciprocate his actions, he catches your wrist before you can do anything else. 

You quickly meet his gaze in confusion, “Sweetheart, you don’t need to do that. I’m alright, but there is something you can do to help.” You look down to see him fully erect. 

Oh. Oh. Her eyes widen in shock, still dazed from the events prior. 

He gently lays her down back on the bed, eyes no longer overflowing with lust. His gaze carries something more. He leans down and kisses her cheek with a grin, “I love you,” He whispers to her. 

“I know, Parker. I love you too.” 

Lining himself up to you, he cradles your face as he enters you slowly. As many times as you guys have done this in the past, he will always start slow, to partly savor in the moment but to also give you time to feel as comfortable as possible. You both gasp as the familiar feeling of being full regains your senses. He won’t move till you say so, but he wouldn’t want to move anyway. The first thrust almost overwhelms him, he feels good, almost too good. 

Once you give him the nod to start moving, he starts to rock back and forth, still cradling your face. He looks down at you to see your nose scrunch and then fall. Your eyebrows are raised in pleasure and your mouth slightly agape. He takes a mental note of this sight and stores it in the back of his mind. You look back up at him to see him already staring at you. There’s nothing but pure adoration between you too, and it makes your heart skip a beat. You love this man so much, there’s no other way of phrasing it. 

He bottoms out, and that’s when your body forces you to make a sound so heavenly, Peter could have come right then and there. He hit that spot again, and with his senses, he knows that too. The relentless stimulation takes you right to the edge and keeps you there for quite a while. 

There’s a moment where he thrusts into you, and that’s when you know he was close. Your previous orgasm was a stepping point to this moment. You don’t know how you’ve been able to hold off this long, and looking up at Peter, whose eyes are closed and the softest moans coming out of his mouth didn’t help. 

A spur of confidence enters your system, “You're going to cum, aren't you?” He’s so close you can feel it.

“Fuck- yes,” He groans, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You wrap your legs tightly around him, only pulling him in deeper. You feel him twitch inside you as he cums, his heavy breathing becoming apparent, only then sending you completely over. The clenching of your walls suddenly becomes too much for him, as he is overstimulated, sending a wave of whimpers out of his mouth. 

As he pulls out, the mixture of both of your climaxes begin to smear across your thighs. Although overstimulated, Peter takes no hesitation to run to the bathroom to grab a towel as you’re too blissed out to notice. With no second thought, he cleans you up, so you can be comfortable. You’re riding on a wave of adrenaline, your head is up in the clouds and the only thing that pulls you back down is the hand softly coming up to your cheek. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” He teases. Your head turns to look at the clock placed on your bedside table. 

‘2:34 AM’, it reads. 

You just roll your eyes as Peter discards the towel and climbs back into bed with you pulling the covers up in the process. He pulls her close, wrapping his arms protectively around her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“I know I’ve said it a lot tonight but I love you (Y/N),” Peter whispers, combing his hand through your tangled hair delicately. 

You smile at him, your eyes filled with nothing but love, “I love you just the same.” 

Peter continues running his hand softly through your hair, making sure to untangle the knots that were formed earlier. You can’t help but sigh with pleasure at the intimate act. Despite everything you had just done, this felt better. Just laying here with him, skin to skin. Vulnerable. 

--author's note: WOAH HELLO! steamy asf, but very soft as well. if there are any grammatical errors, please forgive me. i wrote this in one sitting and I'm posting it at 1:15 AM. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog:)

#peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x reader #college au #peter parker smut #tasm!peter x you #marvel #peter parker x reader #fluff #afab reader #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew garfield #andrew garfield spiderman #spiderman #spiderman x reader #smut #tasm!peter parker

[hunterrrs]

photos from here, I NEED FOOTAGE OF THIS. also this article is a great read. he’s invited some families who lost their homes in the halifax fires to practice:

By the time you read this, Pittsburgh Penguins players will have munched on the pudding known as haggis, made from the livers, hearts and lungs of sheep. And learned how to shuck oysters, in all their slimy, gooey glory.

All courtesy of Sidney Crosby, the Pittsburgh captain, who brought team building to an entirely new level on Saturday. From the moment months ago that he learned the Penguins would be playing here, Crosby was stoked. A proud native of Cole Harbour, 10 miles from Halifax, the 36-year-old began planning out his transformation from NHL star to tour guide.

“I think just the feel of it, the people, and to see the excitement for the game,” Crosby said Friday. “And just to get around the city a little bit, those types of things.

“It’s somewhere that I’m really proud of, and I hope everyone enjoys themselves there.”

In order to do that, he set something up with a unique Maritime flavor. Welcome to “The Amazing Race: Crosby Edition.”

“When Sidney found out the team was coming here, he wanted to find a fun way to celebrate his hometown with his teammates and educate them on why it’s such a special place,” his father, Troy, said.

He seems to have done exactly that.

After a morning of golf Saturday, the unsuspecting Penguins set out on an “Amazing Race”-like scavenger-hunt competition that would take them through the streets of Cole Harbour, Dartmouth and downtown Halifax, and across Halifax Harbour on a ferry.

Under the format, the players were divided into teams. They were given instructions of where to go, what venues to visit and what tasks they were to do (e.g., eating haggis, shucking oysters), all while going up against the clock.

The instructions came on laminated cards featuring the Penguins logo and a “Welcome to Cole Harbour” greeting.

The message on one of the cards read, “Every player has to shuck two oysters and eat them or have a teammate eat them on their behalf. Careful with that knife, and don’t break any shells!”

Crosby enlisted the help of Paul Mason, one of his baseball and minor hockey coaches, to help plan the event. Mason was paramount in setting up the three Cole Harbour Stanley Cup celebrations in Crosby’s honor, and No. 87 didn’t hesitate when it came to the perfect person to set up this event.

“In organizing this, when he talked to me about it, he wants this entire weekend to be pretty special for the community, for his teammates, for everyone around him,” Mason said. “You can sense how much these few days mean to him. You could sense his anticipation for months.”

Mason said that even though Crosby is the host for his teammates this weekend, he’s going to try to win everything: golf, the scavenger hunt, the preseason game Monday, you name it.

“He’s competitive at everything, even as a little kid when I was coaching him,” Mason said. “And that hasn’t changed.

“When the NHL was shut down during COVID, his dad Troy and I played Sidney and one of his friends in a golf match. They should have won, but somehow we did. He didn’t accept that. He said it was two out of three. When we won the second one he said it was three out of five. We ended up playing seven of them. The seventh one was in December with snow on the ground. They won that one to take the series 4-3. Suddenly that was acceptable because they’d won.

“Once they’d finally won, it was over,” Mason said with a laugh.

During some of those summers, Greenwood has helped organize some of the offseason skates featuring Crosby, MacKinnon and Marchand at a local arena. The competitiveness gets intense at times, something Greenwood said helps all three drive each other.

“Yeah, they’re friends,” he said. “But when they start playing against each other at times, you’d never know it. They want to beat one another at any and all costs.

“You can see how that drive, that determination, that win-at-all-costs attitude rubs off on some of the younger guys.”

Count Drake Batherson as one of them. The 25-year-old Senators forward grew up in New Minas, 50 miles northwest of Halifax, and has been training during the offseason with Crosby, Marchand and MacKinnon since 2019. He calls those workouts “one of my favorite times of the year.”

As such, he’s looking forward to facing Crosby and the Penguins in Halifax on Monday.

“I've still got posters of the Penguins and Sid on my wall at my parents' house, so it's pretty fun now that me and Sid have built a relationship and we're buddies," Batherson said. "It's pretty cool looking back on it.”

It was a tough spring and summer for Nova Scotia.

In late May and early June, wildfires raged through the outskirts of Halifax and throughout the province. More than 16,000 people were forced to evacuate as a result, many eventually returning to find their homes were nothing more than heaps of smoldering ashes.

Less than two months later, the area was hit with record rainfall that caused historic flooding. Water did seep into Crosby’s home, though to nowhere near the extent of some others where people pretty much lost everything.

“The area has been through a lot,” he said. “But the great thing about some of these communities, and the area in general, is that everyone sticks together and everyone’s willing to help each other.

“I think when you’ve seen adverse times here over the years, you’ve seen people come together more and more. And I think we take a lot of pride in that here. The fact that people know they can depend on each other is huge. I think we’ve shown that time and time again, and there’s pride that comes with that.”

Crosby is doing his part to teach local kids exactly that.

On Sunday, the Penguins will hold a practice at Cole Harbour Place. Hundreds of children from the local minor hockey systems have been invited to attend and take part in a Q&A session with some Pittsburgh players and, with a select few kids getting to go on the ice with them.

Part of that group will be kids from minor hockey whose families lost their homes in the fires. Crosby specifically wanted them to attend, with Mason helping to make it happen. Given the trauma they and their families have gone through, it is Crosby’s way of trying to brighten up their lives, even if it’s just for one afternoon.

“That’s Sid, right?” Greenwood said. “He’s going to have an impact on these kids, both on the ice and off.”

He already has.

In 2009, Crosby established the Sidney Crosby Foundation, an organization that improves the lives of children who are sick or struggling. More recently, Crosby and several foundation board members created Nova Scotia Showdown T-shirts heading into the game Monday, with proceeds going to his foundation.

“He’s helping young kids who are going through hard times, and he’s being a role model for young hockey players in the province,” Mason said. “He’s going out of his way to show his Penguins a good time here, and he’s being a great ambassador for the community.”

Greenwood agrees.

“It’s a privilege,” he said, “to say you live in the same place as someone like that.”

#he is soooooooo #sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins #nathan mackinnon #colorado avalanche #drake batherson #ottawa senators #ryan graves #po joseph #kris letang

[kiwisbell]

Whiskey Sour

chapter four: between the sheets

Reuniting with your estranged father while you finish college in Austin has unintended consequences. His best friend, for one.

series masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

series tags and warnings: dbf!joel being extremely criminally attractive, big ol' age gap (40s/early 20s), unprotected piv (do not follow the leader), creampie, multiple sex positions, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m and f receiving), dry humping, spitting, biting, joel miller is a MUNCH, very appropriate use of a showerhead, consensual somnophilia, yoga, heavy emphasis on payphones, daddy issues, family reunions, angst, dead mom, grief and mourning, father/daughter relationship, bartending, reader is a woman in STEM (author is not), being a student in university deserves a warning probably, attempted drugging (roofies), college boys suck, possessive sex, possessive joel, protective joel, obligatory warning for joel's salt-and-pepper hair, masturbation, wet dreams, no outbreak AU, hurt/comfort, healing, no sarah or ellie, stargazing, face-sitting, pining/yearning, happy ending

word count: ~ 7.7k

a/n: let the fucking commence!

chapter 4: between the sheets

Joel's birthday.

Your car is still in the shop by Monday—Joel’s birthday—so you’ll be sleeping at your dad’s place. 

And so will Joel. 

“Is this what you guys usually do for birthdays?” you ask, looking up from your studying toward your dad, who's stocking the cooler with beer. “Drink, eat, and watch TV until you rot or pass out?”

“Any better ideas?” 

You roll your eyes. “Guess not.”

He opens the fridge. “Are you sure I can’t have a piece of—”

“Do. Not. Eat that cake,” you warn without looking up from your textbook. 

“Jesus. Bossy.”

“That’s Joel’s cake, Dad.” You look at him over the couch and grin. “Once he gets the first piece, you can pig out.”

“I didn't say pig out,” he mumbles. 

There's a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” you offer, jumping upright and knocking your textbook off your lap. 

“Did you have an extra shot of espresso in your coffee this morning?” calls your father from the kitchen, but you're already in the foyer, opening the door for Joel. 

He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a grey T-shirt, as usual, but wears them so nicely it's almost as exciting as a new outfit altogether. You opted for one of your sundresses, white and printed with daisies. “Hi,” you say, sounding more out-of-breath than you feel. “Happy birthday, Joel.”

Fuck, this dress. Is he supposed to sit right next to you all night without reaching his hands under that flowy little skirt? It’s his goddamn birthday—he should be able to do whatever he wants to with whatever you offer him. But Mike’s here, in between the two of you, forever. So, all he can do is kiss the top of your head and whisper, “Thank you, baby.”

You beam up at him, and he’s not going to last the night when you look like this, dress like this. “You’ll love the cake,” you tell him, ushering him into the kitchen. 

“Happy birthday, you old asshole.” Mike pulls him into a hug and slaps him on the back. 

Joel chuckles. “Real nice, man.” 

“Don't mind my kid.” He jerks his head in your direction, where you've settled yourself on the couch again, surrounded and engulfed by textbooks and notebooks. “She doesn't know how to relax.”

“I know how to relax,” you say, nose still buried in your work. Joel knows you do. He helped you relax just a few nights ago. “Unless you two want to write this test for me, I’ll be multitasking tonight.”

Joel and Mike crack open a bottle each of Sam Adams and clink them together. “To gettin’ old,” says Mike. 

I’m the one who sat your daughter on my lap and made her come all over me. Can a young, stupid kid do that? Joel just grins, feeling a little bit of primordial pride. “To friends who should learn to shut the fuck up.” 

They drink at the same time, and you hold up a glass of water from your spot on the couch in cheers. “To being around long enough to remember when the Colosseum was built.”

Oh, you think you’re real fuckin’ funny. He’s got half a mind to drag you upstairs and stuff your mouth with his cock just to make you remember how good he makes you feel. Maybe it’ll fix that attitude; maybe it’ll just quiet you down for a bit. Joel shares a look with Mike, who’s trying not to laugh. “She said it.”

Mike sits in the chair next to the television before Joel can subtly usher him into the seat next to yours. He sets his jaw, lowering himself next to you, the corner of a textbook briefly jabbing him in the ass. If he looks long enough, he will see that your skirt has slipped up your thighs and the barest sliver of your ass is visible from where he sits. He would not know, of course, because he isn't looking. 

“Can we do gifts now?” you ask, biting your lip to hide your excitement. Joel’s heart squeezes at the thought of getting a present from you. 

Arms around his neck. Layers of clothing between you. Your body rubbing up against him, taking what you want. Sweet moans that hang from the ceiling of his brain. Stalactites. 

What more could you give him? 

“I don't see why not,” says Mike. “But since best goes last, you should give your present first.”

You roll your eyes and set all your things on the table, leaning over the armrest to produce a giant gift bag brimming with blue tissue paper. Joel, of course, does not look at the shape of your ass in his face. “Blue’s your favourite colour,” you tell him. 

It is. He doesn't even remember telling you. Joel takes out the tissue paper and pulls out the first item. It's a cowboy hat, tied with ribbon to a green plaid-patterned flannel. 

He looks at your pretty, smiling face. “In case you want to go back to your roots,” you supply. “I could see how much you missed the farm you grew up on, and I think you'd look great in a cowboy hat.”

Joel’s throat is tightening. “Thank you,” he says hoarsely. 

The next item makes him frown. It's bright pink and slightly squishy and—

“A yoga mat,” he says. Mike snorts, hiding it behind his beer bottle. 

“It matches mine!” He recalls the mat in your bedroom the day he helped you unpack your things. The tight black pants moulded to your ass. Do you want him to do yoga with you? “I know you've got a bad back, and it really helps reduce pain. Plus, flexibility is always important.”

Joel wants to bend you over that goddamn armrest and leave bruises on your ass in the shape of his fingerprints. You're awfully fucking bold, making him picture you folded in half and sweating, right in front of your father. But it's thoughtful. It really is. You want to help take away his pain, as if you don’t do that with every second you're in the same room as him. “Might have to teach me,” he says. 

“I’m a fantastic teacher, luckily for you.” You clap your hands together and tuck them under your chin, and he's falling, listing, into a place he cannot crawl out of. “Open the last one.”

It’s in an envelope—whatever it is. Joel gently tugs out the piece of paper inside and reads it. The lump in his throat has migrated to his eyes, prickling the nerves behind his nose. “You named a star after me?”

“Shit,” says Mike. “I should've gone first.”

“It’s official and everything,” you tell him. “NASA has this program. I thought it might be cool to look up and know one of them belongs to you.”

He’s getting fucking soft with age. Joel clears his throat, his fingers trembling a little as he puts everything safely back in the bag and meets your gaze. He wishes Mike weren't here. He wishes he could pull you up against him and show you exactly how fast his heart is racing. You know him. You're so kind, so thoughtful, so bright. He doesn't deserve to have these things, but Jesus, he needs you so badly it aches. He doesn't just want you. He likes you. He’s excited by you and he’s nervous around you. 

How can he simply move beyond a feeling like this? He doesn't think it’s possible for a person to walk past you on the street and simply forget. You demand attention. You deserve it. 

“Thank you,” he says, because there's nothing else to say. He's a man of action. He will show you his gratitude. But it will have to wait, and so will he. 

Your eyes twinkle, and somehow he knows that you're thinking the same thing. “Happy birthday, Joel.”

Mike's gift to him is a new toolkit, since his current one is approximately as old as you, and a new nine iron, “since your back will be on the mend soon and you can hit the course with me again.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You’re such a guy, Dad.”

“Yeah?” He pulls you into him, attacking your head and your cheeks with a flurry of kisses as you squeal with laughter. “That'll show you, smartass.”

Joel cannot ruin this. But he finds he doesn't have many reservations about ruining you for every other man you'll ever meet. He’s going to be selfish with you tonight. It’s his birthday, after all. 

The doorbell chimes its broken melody, and you open the door to find an unfamiliar man staring down at you with a crooked smile on his face. He has shoulder-length dark hair and brown eyes, and he's wearing a denim jacket, holding up a six-pack of the same beer Joel and your father are drinking. 

“Well, hello,” he says. He's certainly Texan. 

“Hi,” you return politely, though it sounds a bit like a question. “I’m sorry, I don't think we’ve…”

��Sorry, darlin’. Tommy Miller.” He’s quick to shake your hand, and your brows shoot up. Now you know why you recognise that smile of his. 

You can't help but grin up at him. Good looks must run in the family. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tommy.”

“You must be Mike’s girl.” He clicks his tongue, giving you a quick once-over. His eyes glimmer with something you can almost call mischief. “I like your dress.”

You lift your brows. “I like your double denim. Very with the times.”

“Tommy, stop harassing her,” says your father from behind you. “Good to see you, man.”

He and Tommy slap their palms together in a purely male handshake while you take the beer from him and hurry back to the kitchen. “Your brother’s here,” you tell Joel in a hushed voice. “Didn't tell me he was so handsome.”

He cocks his head to the side, leaning his hip on the counter. “Yeah? He tell you he liked your dress?” 

“He did.”

“That's his favourite.” Joel steps closer to you and you have to tilt your chin up to see him better. “He once said that to a girl who was wearin’ pants.”

You let the laugh slip out before you can stop it. “He brought you beer.” You lift the case onto the counter. “He must be good for something.”

“Yeah.” A hand slips indecently between your thighs and two fingers snap the waistband of your panties (white and lacy, because you need to have a little fun). “Toyin’ around with what ain’t his,” he says gruffly. 

You gasp, practically jumping back from him when your dad and Tommy enter the kitchen. If you look flushed or nervous, neither of them say a word. Joel hugs his brother. “Good of you to finally show up.”

“Jackass.” Tommy claps him hard on the back a couple times. “If I’d known such a pretty lady was here, I’d have dressed better.”

Your cheeks feel warm at his unabashed flirting. He’s not a lot younger than Joel, but he's certainly got the brashness of someone who is. Joel pulls him into a headlock while your father ruffles Tommy’s perfect hair. “If you flirt with my daughter, Miller, you’ll have to match your nice outfits to your bruises.”

Tommy laughs, wriggling out of the headlock and giving you a wink as he smooths his hair down. “I think I look good in black.”

Tommy’s always had a bark five times the size of his bite, but Joel isn't fond of the teasing. Sure, he knows it's only teasing, getting a rise out of his brother, but he doesn't like the way you blush for him. “All right, I’m calling in the food.” Mike picks up the receiver and points at Tommy. “Don’t think I don’t mean it, dickhead.”

Tommy lifts his hands in surrender and Joel shoves him in the side with an elbow for good measure. You sit back down with your pile of books, and the younger Miller lowers himself next to you, breaking your concentration with all his questioning and schmoozing. 

Joel grits his teeth. If he can't get a fucking second alone with you tonight, he’ll burn up from the inside. He takes a swig of his beer to cool down as you politely entertain Tommy’s conversation. He’s sleeping in the guest room tonight because you offered to take the couch. It’s his birthday, you told Mike, and his back will thank him. 

The rest of the party is pleasant. The guys eat wings while you pluck away at a caesar salad, refusing to get your hands dirty if you're touching your books all night. Tommy leaves around ten, and Joel and Mike are both somewhat drunk by the time midnight rolls around. 

It’s two o’clock in the morning, no longer his birthday, when he sneaks downstairs. He feels mostly sober now, chugging back a glass of water at the sink. Mike’s been asleep for an hour or so, but you haven't. In fact, you're still working, sitting upright on the couch with the lamp on as you study. Joel’s stomach sinks. The salad from hours earlier is not even half-eaten. You’re yawning every minute, rubbing at your eyes as you attempt to finish your problem set. 

You hear a noise from the kitchen and look up to find Joel standing, watching, at the counter. “Hi,” you say in a groggy voice. 

“Oh, baby,” he says, meeting you at the couch and sitting next to you. His hand finds your thigh, at last, squeezing and kneading your flesh like he's wanted to do all night. It feels like victory: restraint paying off. It feels like his erratic heartbeat can finally settle. “You gotta sleep. This ain't healthy.”

“Chemistry doesn't sleep,” you say with a pout. He wants to nibble that pout right off your lips. Your eyes are lidded and reddish. “Looks like you don’t, either.”

Joel plucks the notebook out of your hands and sets it on the table. “Enough,” he says softly, his hand winding around your waist and resting on your lower back. He relishes the way your body melts, your shoulders sinking and your spine decompressing under his warm palm. “C’mere, baby.”

You go easily onto his lap, your dress bunching around your hips. His mere closeness raises goosebumps on your arms, your legs, his large hand caressing your right thigh. He was right; you're so fucking soft. 

Your eyes blink sleepily at him, your fingers threading through his brown-silver locks. “I like your hair,” you whisper. “I like your eyes and your smile and your moustache.”

Joel’s hand finds the crease between your thigh and your hip. He rubs circles into your hip bone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your thumb traces his mouth, your touch so reverent even in your half-asleep haze, and he will never have enough of you. “Would feel so good… between my legs.”

His cock is stirring in his pants again, warmed by your telltale heat. “You know how hard it was not to touch you today?” He keeps his voice quiet, knowing Mike’s snoring away upstairs, knowing you're both playing with fire. “This fuckin’ dress. You wanted to tease me?”

“I wanted…” You gasp when he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume. It swirls around his head and turns it fuzzy. You’re an aphrodisiac. “I wanted you to touch me. Just like this.”

He huffs into your throat, his strong nose guiding the path of his mouth. He cares little for caution when you smell the way you do— taste the way you do. His tongue darts out to place open-mouthed kisses up the veins in your throat, your pulse fluttering under his attention. You are the heady pull of closing eyes at dusk and the sweetness of dessert. 

Your hips grind against his cock the more he kisses his way up your neck, your wet pussy soaking through your little white panties. You feel so much closer to him than the last time, his need thick and insistent against you. He reaches the spot below your ear, sucking at a spot that makes you clutch the back of his head and press him to you, your cunt slick with your arousal. He grunts into your skin, licking and nibbling your earlobe, marking your body as he sinks further into the senseless plane of desire and he forgets that he isn't supposed to be doing this. 

“Joel,” you whisper, urging him back to look into his pitch-black eyes. “I want you to kiss me.”

No sane man can look into those sleep-soaked eyes and say no to you. He tips his chin up and presses his lips to yours. It's soft, gentle, and it feels like Rapture. 

He cradles the back of your head and gently pries open your mouth for him to lick into, sliding his tongue along yours as your breathing shifts and little gasps pour like honey from your throat. This is what he needs. This is the line that will reel his soul back up from hell. 

Your lips are soft and your skin burns for him. His hands become needier, bunching your dress higher up your hips so he can guide his fingers higher up your thighs, squeezing your ass and shifting to the juncture of your thighs. The white lace. He keeps your mouth against him as he toys with the waistband, feeling it give and slide under his touch. 

Your sighs send blood surging down to his cock until there's nothing left in his brain. All he knows is finding a way to get more: drawing more of those noises from you, coaxing more pleasure out of your body, giving you so much of him that you’ll never want anyone else. 

Joel groans softly into your mouth and breaks away to put his mouth to your jaw, your chin, taking a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back so he can have better access to your throat. 

“Oh, my—” Your eyes flutter shut when he licks a stripe up your throat, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, every mild touch electrifying your body. 

He reaches your sternum, right above the neckline of this godforsaken dress, roughly tugging down the straps off your shoulders so he can finally— finally —see your pretty tits for himself. It isn't a dream this time. The dress pools around your waist, sitting on his lap in your father’s home, rocking your hips against his stiff cock and looking so fucking tired, so fucking beautiful, that he wants to sink right into you and become one. It’s the only way to cure this itch. 

He can never be close enough. 

“Joel.” Your fingers are still in his hair as he kisses all the way down your chest, a rough hand grasping your ribs and rubbing a thumb over your hard nipple. He’s taking his time exploring you, his hand secure around the base of your neck, the other adventuring across the planes and curves of you, indulging because he finally can. You let him, because it’s not his birthday anymore, but he’s been so patient. He's waited so long. 

And fuck, it feels good. Every tweak of your nipples, every playful nibble and suck sends jolts of pleasure to your cunt, the only spot of you he hasn't yet admired. Joel’s mouth finds one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around it before he sucks it into his mouth. “Fuck.” It's more of a squeak this time, less of a whisper, and he squeezes your ribcage as if to stop your lungs from expanding, as if to say, Quiet. 

“That feels good,” you gasp, your head falling back, the back of your neck still warmed by the press of his palm. “Dreamed about this.”

You're waking up, though still a bit groggy, with everything he gives you. He kisses his way back to the hollow of your throat and looks up at you with those deep brown eyes, glimmering silver in the moonlight. “So have I,” he says. 

“You don't sleep.”

“No,” he agrees. The hand at your neck slides down to your lower back, to your ass, where he presses you down onto him. The graze of his zipper against your clit makes stars burst behind your eyes. Joel cocks his head. “Why do you think I can’t sleep lately, hmm? It’s because you wake me up. You and your body.” Another roll of your hips makes you drop your forehead to his. He tucks your hair behind your ear. “Can’t fuckin’ sleep when you're all I'm thinkin’ about, now, can I?”

You bite your lip, but this time, he can do something about it. He nudges his nose against your cheek and fits his mouth to yours. He dreams about you. He thinks of you. He wants you. 

“I don’t sleep much, either,” you tell him when he lets you up for air. 

“I know,” he says softly. You hold onto his wrist when he cups your face. “Such a thinker. You gotta let yourself go, baby. Let yourself feel.” 

“I…” His cock is so hard. It’s a strong, thick pressure against your thigh, catching on your clit with each drag of your hips. You won't come like this again; you need him to feel good. “I want you in my mouth.”

You can feel him twitch against you, his pulse hammering against your mouth as you suck on his pressure point. “Jesus.” His hands fly to your hips. “Baby, I… Goddamn, we can’t… can’t risk it.”

He's right, of course. It doesn't stop you from grinding down against him and nibbling his lobe. “But it's your birthday.”

“Not—fuck, not anymore.”

“I want you to feel good,” you whisper, your breath hot against his cheek. 

“Jesus Christ.” He pulls you away, looking you hard in the eyes. “When I fuck you, baby, I want to hear you. I want to make you scream. I can’t do that here.” His mouth seeks yours, slow and sweet. “Lie down.”

Your eyes close on instinct when he kisses you, but your confusion lingers. “What…” 

“Lie down, and go to sleep.” He kisses your forehead, and it feels like finality. “Tomorrow night, when you get off work, I’m comin’ to pick you up.”

You shift reluctantly off his lap, resting your head on the arm of the couch and spreading your legs slightly so he can get a look at the wet patch on your panties. Your tired eyes are doe-like in the darkness. “And?” you ask, trailing your foot up his thigh. 

“And…” His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, shucking them down your legs and leaving you bare underneath. You watch him with black eyes and a heaving chest as he stuffs your panties in his pocket. “I want you to wear that black thong you've got. You know the one I’m talkin’ about?”

You swallow. He’s seen your underwear collection? “Yes,” you say breathlessly. 

“I never thanked you,” he whispers, bringing his fingers to your soaking wet cunt and spreading your folds open, “properly. That was one hell of a birthday gift, baby.”

You can’t help but smile. “I want you to be happy.” 

Two fingers slide languidly through your wetness, making you twitch. “I’m real happy,” he says, “when you're with me.”

He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. 

“Joel,” you whine, spreading your thighs wider, inviting him to touch you even though you know he can't. You know it's wrong. 

“Tomorrow night.” He's tired of denying himself of you. He's tired of letting you go on thinking there isn't a soul in this world who's willing to fight for your affection. “Go to sleep.”

For good measure, he closes the textbook on the table and stands up, leaving you wet, wanting, and dreaming of the promise of tomorrow. 

~

You’re quivering with anticipation when you hop up into the passenger’s seat in your little skirt and little black thong. 

“Show me,” is how he greets you, his eyes sliding lazily toward you and taking in your whole body. His jaw ticks as you slip the hem of your skirt up above your hips and show him the scrap of lace tucked between your cheeks. Apparently satisfied, he pulls out of the parking lot and drives you to his home. 

Inside, too impatient to bother flicking on the lights, he pushes you up against the front door and kisses you hard. His hands slide up your back as you wind your arms around his neck, your lips parting to welcome his tongue and feed your contented sighs into his mouth. Fuck, you're tense, your shoulders tight and your leg muscles strained from being on your feet all night. When his hands begin to wander, you have a feeling he knows exactly where you're hurting. 

You whisper his name, passing it from your throat to his mouth, and you realise it's the first word either of you have spoken since you got in his truck tonight. He growls your name, not once letting you up for air as his hands feel up your arms, your spine, your ribs, the flare of your hips. He touches your body like it's marble, and kisses you like you're water: he could chip you away, and you could slip right through his fingers, but you're here, and he cups you so gently in his palm that the marble will not crack. The water will not drip. 

All of the windows and doors are closed. All of the curtains are drawn, the lights off. But he wants you in his bedroom. He wants you where he knows the world will wait patiently outside a closed door and he’ll never have to worry about another soul seeing you the way he wants to see you tonight. He turns you around, backing you toward his room as you stumble to keep pace. All the while, his hands never leave your body, and his mouth never offers reprieve. His moustache and his beard scratch you, merciless, unrelenting. 

Kicking the door shut behind him, Joel kisses you until your lips are swollen and your pupils are so wide they engulf your irises. He cradles your head in his hand, and you place your palm to his heart. 

“You're wearing it,” you say with a grin. “The shirt I bought you.”

“Sorry I couldn't wear the hat.” Joel kisses his way from your cheek to your earlobe, nibbling slightly before he changes his trajectory downward. 

“That's okay,” you sigh, holding him to you as he playfully bites your collarbone. “I want you naked, anyway.”

He chuckles into your neck. “You first.”

His hand finds your ass, squeezing roughly over your little skirt. “Teasin’ me,” he grunts, grabbing at the fabric, so blind with need that he can't think straight long enough to find the waistband. Instead, he’s pulling the skirt up and over your ass just to grab handfuls of your soft flesh. “Jesus, you're beautiful.”

“What did you do with them?” Your soft voice breaks in half when he snaps the band of your thong against your hip. “The panties you took.”

“You wanna know?” Joel finally yanks down your skirt, leaving you in your shirt and that pathetic black fabric barely covering your pussy. “I took out my cock and I jerked off into them. Came on your pretty white lace, thinkin’ about the way you looked last night.”

Your breathing stutters, your grip tightening around the collar of his flannel shirt. “Fuck. Take this off, please.”

So polite. So sweet. Joel clicks his tongue, backing you toward the bed. “Arms up,” he orders. 

You obey so easily, letting him drag your shirt over your head. Joel unclasps your bra and tosses it aside, squeezing your tits in his rough hands and splaying his fingers over your ribcage. “I think about you,” he says lowly, “when I’m sleepin’. When I’m awake. When I’m supposed to be workin’. You have any idea how much company time you've lost me?”

You giggle, crowding him so you can press your lips to his throat. “You're your own boss. No such thing as company time.”

“Such a smart fuckin’ mouth.” He hooks his thumb in the band of your thong, his other hand grasping your chin. “You gonna be good and listen to me? Let me help you feel good?”

There's a change in your eyes. Pouring cold metal into a cast and watching it melt. Reshaping it into something soft, malleable, warm.  “Yes, Joel.”

Fuck, if that doesn't send all of his blood soaring to his cock. Joel smiles down at you. “Take ‘em off, baby.”

You back away to give yourself enough room, looking right into his eyes as you make a show of sliding your thong down your legs, stepping out of it and lowering yourself onto the bed. He takes his eyes on a path over your stiff nipples, your pretty, glistening cunt on display for him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and it makes you push your chest forward with a bit of pride knowing he likes you like this. 

“My beautiful girl.” He steps close to you, nudging your legs open so he can stand between them. You're naked for him. You're on his bed, wet and wanting for him. There is no compromise when it comes to you: he cannot let another man see you like this. A selfish man guards his treasures. A selfish man does not want, because he does not give away what he has. 

You sit primly on the edge, peering up at him with a pleading look in your eye. “Let me undress you.” You pop open a button on his shirt. “Please, Joel.”

He likes the sound of your begging, so he nods, allowing you to indulge, your fingers slipping the shirt off his broad shoulders. “So handsome,” you muse, dispensing with the flannel and putting your lips to his chest, his soft stomach, the freckles on his body that you've never been so lucky to see until now. He’s beautiful. He is the sum of years you've never seen, the experience of a man who's made his way in the world with his strong, capable body. He is the only man you ever want to know so intimately. 

“Touch yourself,” he commands, backing away to take in the sight of your naked body. “Let me see you.”

And fuck, you want to make him so happy. You want to make him proud, make him feel good. Your hand slides leisurely down your body as you maintain eye contact, tracing the path from your sternum to your navel. His eyes look black in the darkness. You ease your thighs open, giving him a good view when you finally dip two fingers between your folds and bring them to your mouth, licking up your wetness. Slicked up with saliva, your fingers circle easily over your clit, your eyes fluttering and your head falling against the pillows. 

“That feels good,” you tell him, pinching your nipple. “Fuck, Joel, I need you. I need you.”

“You’ll get me, sweetheart. Just keep goin’.” He likes watching, it seems, making you go a little crazy, making you teeter precariously on an edge you'll never tip over. You push two fingers inside your pussy, rubbing your palm against your clit. Your moan turns high-pitched, your core burning with need you cannot satiate. Not when he's so close, looking at you, forcing you to touch yourself when all you know is the fire only he can stoke. 

But that's what he wants. He wants you to know that he’s got you liquified in the little pool in the palm of his hand. You're his. “You…” Rubbing your clit slowly, you try to meet his eyes even though yours are closing. “You get off on this? Sick bastard.”

Joel tuts. “Did I say to close your eyes?”

“Joel, I—”

“Keep. Your eyes. Open.” You increase your pace, your hips bucking a little into your hand, and peel your eyes open. “Keep ‘em on me. Just like that.”

“I need…” You sigh in frustration, trying to give him your best pitiful look even though you know it's fruitless. You’re putty in his hands. You'll touch yourself for as long as he wants you to, even if you never come. “I need…”

“Say it,” he says, and you hate how soft he sounds. The kiss of a warm breeze at nighttime, the silvery wisps of air that curl up from between lips at the intake of the cigarette smoke. He coaxes you, coos at you, and it could be mocking, if he didn't like you so damn much. “Say what you need, baby.”

“I need to come, Joel. I need you. Fuck, I need you to touch me. I’ll… I’ll die if you don't touch me.”

Joel lifts his brows. Spoiled. You’re fucking spoiled and it's all his fault. It's your fault he's so hard, close to ripping a seam in his goddamn jeans, his cock throbbing and leaking precum. “Tell me why you're so fuckin’ wet. Tell me why you're cryin’.”

“You!” Head tossed back on the pillows. Eyes barely open, tears blurring your vision. Fingers frantically rubbing your poor clit to no avail. “You, Joel. You. It’s you. I’m yours.”

That. 

That's what he wanted to fucking hear. 

Joel unzips his jeans and disposes of them so fast it's like they're ablaze. Your fingers slow their relentless pace on your clit to watch his thick, hard cock slap up against his stomach. “No underwear?” you rasp. “That’s a little whorish of you, Mr. Miller.”

Joel grabs your ankle and manoeuvres you so you're lying flat on your back. You yelp, arousal shooting pants of pleasure through your body at his manhandling. “You wanna fuckin’ talk?” he grunts, crawling onto the bed and situating himself between your legs just so he can bite down on the flesh of your inner thigh. Your whole body jolts with shock.

He holds firmly into your thighs, leaving wet kisses from your navel to your needy clit. It's where he's wanted to be since the first fantasy. The first dream. The first sight. You look down at him, silver locks of hair shining in the darkness, and your gaze is so reverent that his heart wants to beat its wings and unshackle itself. A heart cannot be contained with a look like that—it must go free. It must expand. 

Your fingers thread gently through his hair, and it’s all the affirmation he needs. Somewhere in the air between you, two hands lock, and two souls intertwine. 

His tongue is hot between your slick folds. There are already tears in your eyes from your teasing, but it's something different altogether when Joel’s mouth finds your clit. The pleasure is so hot it freezes your veins. You're locked in place, the space between your brows creasing, your mouth falling open, as he flicks his tongue against your clit. 

Defibrillator. Each measured lick is a patch wrapped around a rib, a nerve, a muscle. Each administration hurls you through space. You're crashing into the stars on the way, bright white flashing behind your eyes. 

Tactile. The scratch of his beard and moustache rubs your soft skin raw. Your smell, your taste, tang and potency and the nectar of your sweet, soft gasps. He's spreading you open on a banquet table. He's licking into your cunt and making you mewl like a whore. He’s making you feel so good, so wanted, so happy. 

He can't be going to hell. Hell is not the taste of you. Hell is not the way you fist his hair or cry his name. Hell is not—has never been—your face, your body, your voice. Hell does not know the shape of you. 

This is the other place. 

His tongue circles your slick entrance, but it does not push past. Not yet. He moves back up toward your clit, dragging his tongue across each electrified nerve over and over and over—

His fingers bruise your thighs. His grip does not relent. Neither does yours. You cry his name, wet and gasping, a drowning woman seeking the muffled, distorted light above the surface. Joel’s lips seal around your clit, sucking and lapping at the rest of you until you're shaking and he can barely hold on. 

He does not stop when your orgasm crests. When your chest heaves in a ragged moan that sounds like pulling an open wound over broken piano strings. When your body stiffens, then relaxes, riding out the rhythm like a heartbeat as you come with such force that the pleasure has nowhere to go. Only up. Up. Up—

He isn't stopping. He's closed his eyes, drowning your anchor, forcing you to squeeze your own shut. He keeps going —licking broad stripes through your pussy, making out with it like he's fucking drunk off the taste of you. 

He’s drunk. He registers your orgasm, but he does not register that he needs to pull back, let you rest, fit his cock inside you to relieve his own arousal. He can hear your weak, whimpering cries, can feel the way you jerk against him when his nose nudges your sensitive clit. He cannot grasp anything except this. You taste so fucking good. You taste like relief. You taste like all the chances he wants to take. 

“Joel, I…” You're so weak you can barely speak, pushing him closer to your cunt, letting him take you even though you're not sure you can—

“Oh, fuck!” Your thighs tremble as you come a second time under his expert tongue. Joel grunts, apparently satisfied this time, finally lifting his head up from between your legs and pressing kisses from your thighs to your calves. He lifts himself up to his knees, securing your thighs around his hips. 

His cockhead taps your cunt, a small puddle of precum gathering on your pretty clit. Just because he can, he grabs the base of his cock and smears the pearly white liquid over your pussy, notching himself at your hole. 

You catch a glimpse of how his girth dwarfs your tight entrance and your eyes widen. “Joel… you’re…” 

“I know,” he says. “You gonna be okay?”

A steely determination settles in the crease of your brow, and you hug your thighs tighter around his hips. “I can take it.”

That's his girl. Joel pushes his hips forward, watching your hole seal over the head, wet and fucking warm. “Jesus,” he mutters. Your head falls back and your eyes flutter. 

“Focus right here, baby,” he says, patting your cheek. You struggle to keep your eyes open, looking right into his as he feeds his cock into you. 

You gasp, blinking away tears as he bottoms out, so thick and heavy you can feel him in your belly. And he’s so smug, the bastard, giving you that wicked smirk. When he rolls his hips, pushing the head of his cock so deep that it kisses your womb, you choke on your moan. “You’re… such an… asshole.”

“Tell me all about it,” he says, securing his hand on the back of your thigh and pushing it toward your chest. The angle deepens, stars soaring across your vision, and he begins to fuck you. 

It's the cloying haze of ecstasy. Being inside you burns holes through him, cigarettes on skin. He's vaguely aware of the slick noises his cock draws from your wet pussy, the slam of the headboard against the wall as he fucks you into the mattress. His back pinches in pain and he knows he'll feel it tomorrow, but you look so cock-drunk, your head lolling and your eyes rolling back, that he can't bring himself to care. 

Your hands claw at his chest, his shoulders, trying to pull him down toward you even though your leg is bent back toward your head. He gives you a moment of reprieve to lean over you, his hand braced next to your head and his mouth slanting over yours. You hum happily, your fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, and he will do anything—anything—to make you feel good. 

In a flash, he twists your leg so you're on your stomach, then hauls you up by your hips so you're on your hands and knees, all without pulling out of you. “Joel!” you squeak. 

“Fuck. This body.” He slides one hand up your spine as he slams into you from behind, gritting his teeth and pummeling your ass with his hips. “This tight… fuckin’… body.”

“Ah, fuck—” Your body jolts forward and Joel grabs the headboard just to steady you, stopping it from slamming against the wall. He slips his hand around your chest and hauls your body up against his, lavishing your throat with his hot mouth. “Joellllll,” you whine. 

“Feel good, baby?” he grunts, grinding his cock deep. You cry out, your hands blindly grasping behind you for a purchase on his hips. 

“So— fuck! —so good. You’re so big.” The breathless praise fills his head with air, ballooning his ego, making him pull you closer. 

“You can take it,” he says into your ear, the rhythm of his thrusts perfectly attuned to the response of your body. He's learned you, mapped you, and you're all for him. 

You gasp his name, your head turning to bite down on his bicep as he fucks you so thoroughly that your brain is liquifying to warm honey. Joel grits his teeth at the twinge of pain, his balls pulling up as his orgasm nears. “That’s it, baby,” he pants, letting your upper half bend back down onto the mattress so he can rub your clit. 

“Oh! Yes, yes, yes.” Your hands flex against the sheets, wrinkling them between your fingers as your cheek presses into the mattress. The rippling of your ass with every slap of his balls against your clit is a delicious sight, and the way your thighs tremble only makes his hips stutter. He’s going to come. He’s…

Your pussy clenches around him, your whole body seizing as you come on his cock, pushing out a weak cry. “Joel, I… oh, fuck.”

“I got you, baby. It’s okay. Let go; that's a good girl.” He removes his fingers from your clit when you begin to buck and cry from the overstimulation, his hand leaving the headboard to grab your hips. Now, he can fuck you hard and fast, your body limp and pliant underneath him. “Just let me… shit, let me… gotta—”

Your gasps are wet and your cheeks are drying from your tears. “Oh, my—” Your mouth drops open at his relentless pummeling. “Oh, shit!”

He feels the telltale splatter of wetness on his balls and his thighs before he registers that you're coming again. Your body shakes without abandon, your eyes squeezing shut and your pussy sucking him deeper, deeper still. It’s loud and smacking and slick in his ears, and he loses his goddamn mind. 

His orgasm pinches every nerve in his back without warning. He groans, fisting your hair, instinctively pushing his hips flush to your ass and drowning your cunt in his hot cum. 

“Goddamn… shit. Jesus.” He covers your body with his, his forehead pressed to the space between your sweat-slick shoulder blades. You can feel his breath puffing out against your skin. 

“Joel,” you moan weakly, your knees close to giving out, your hips aching. 

“Fuck. Fuck, baby, I’m sorry.” He hauls himself upright and pulls out, his cock pulsing at the sight of his cum dripping out of your used hole. “I came inside you.”

“I can feel it,” comes your muffled giggle, wiggling your ass at him. “I’m on the pill.”

He collapses next to you, tucking you into his side, his nose nudging yours before he slots his mouth over yours. You kiss him happily, sleepily, draping your arm over his broad chest. “Gotta clean you up,” he grumbles into your mouth. “Made a fuckin’ mess.”

You put your lips to the corner of his mouth, the patches in his beard, smiling against his cheek. “Shouldn't have manhandled me so good, then.”

Joel chuckles, smacking your ass. “Funny girl. C’mon, get up.”

You huff, taking his hand as he helps you off the bed, catching you around the waist when your knees give out. “Easy,” he laughs. 

“Your fault.” You steady yourself by holding onto his arm as he takes you into his bathroom. “You took me by surprise. Didn't think an old man could fuck like that.”

“Smartass.” Joel gives your ass another slap and closes you both inside. He wets a washcloth and wipes it between your thighs, enjoying the little whimper that leaves your mouth when it drags over your puffy clit. “Almost done, baby.”

He cleans up the cum that has dripped out of your hole and your own wetness, leaning in to kiss you softly when he's finished. You smooth his hair back, smiling fondly at his tousled appearance, the way he looks so relaxed, so calm. “I like you like this.”

“Yeah?” He lifts a brow, observing the marks you've left on him through the mirror. “Scratched up like a goddamn cat post?”

“Couldn't help it.” You lean into him and press gentle little kisses to the crescents and red marks on his chest and shoulders. “Now those other ladies knocking down your door will know you're not up for grabs.”

“You tell me where those ladies are first, and I’ll give ‘em a piece of my mind,” he chuckles, roaming his hands up and down your arms. “I’ve certainly never seen ‘em before.”

“Well, we women have a secret code,” you tell him. “A girl can tell. You're a hot commodity around here. Big, strong, tall, working man…”

His ego is getting a little overinflated at the ministrations of your sweet voice. He rubs his thumbs over your hip bones and shuts you up with a kiss. “Anyone ever tell you you're trouble?” he mumbles into your mouth. 

“Mmmhmm,” you reply. “But you can handle it.”

Goddamn right I can. 

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #whiskey sour #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou hbo

[highvern]

Teach Me VI

Final

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au

Warnings: angst, pining, crying, alcohol consumption, jealous pouty DK, meddling Seungkwan and Hoshi, eventual smut, dry humping, making out, face fucking, munch DK as always, unprotected sex, cream pie, they're simps for each and its disgusting!, DK wearing a chain that dangles in readers face bc im sick and twisted, kinda choking but not really?

Length: ~7.4k

Note: SURPRISE!! ITS HERE!!!! this series started in OCTOBER which is wild to think about. two months of these two plaguing my day to day and so many amazing readers interacting with the story honestly makes a little emotional for it to end. this is the first series i've ever done and now it's over so soon but there are bigger and better things on the horizon! (goes and cries in the corner) If you notice any errors or typos pls ignore.

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

read more here

[MONDAY 11:23 AM]

YOU: Home

Mr. Boo: Thank you! Love you!

Mr. Boo: We can have a bff night when I get back

[MONDAY 4:48 PM] 

DOKYEOM: Hope you got home safe

DOKYEOM: I’m sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.

DOKYEOM: Can we talk this week?

Dokyeom doesn’t leave his room the rest of the weekend. A combination of fear of Seungkwan beating the crap out of him and absolute heartbreak keep him wrapped in the covers. Not even Soonyoung can elicit more than a half-hearted grunt when checking if his roommate is still alive.

The drive back to campus is no different. Staring longingly out the window, Dokyeom stares at his unanswered messages. When he goes to your Instagram he finds your account missing with the sinking realization you blocked him.

Seventy two of the best and subsequent worse hours of his life crumbled your fragile relationship. He thought you returned his feelings. 

After Soonyoung blabled a drunken confession on Dokyeom’s behalf, he worried you’d drive off in the night; swiftly rejecting him. But you wrapped your arms around him and held him as you slept. Kissed him awake in the early morning sun, nothing but a soft smile and presses of lips across his face. It was better than anything Dokyeom hoped for. He thought it meant you liked him back even if you didn’t say it yet.

But then you interrogated him and the hot tub and it all came crashing down. You were trying to let him down easy, buttering him up before giving him a reality check. It’d hurt of course. The tsunami of shame at thinking he had a chance and then adding insult to injury when you called him childish. 

Dokyeom knows he was wrong for his reaction but embarrassment sent him spiraling and he needed to get as far away from you as possible. 

And now that he’d succeed, he doesn't think he can find a way back.

—

Monday and Tuesday are spent suffocating under a mound of blankets, munching on a carton of ice cream, and crying till your head hurts and your throat is sore. The string of texts from Dokyeom remains thoroughly ignored; but each buzz of your phone raises your heart rate to unhealthy levels until you read the notification from some store offering a discount. 

You ignore the string of messages from Dokyeom, tempted more and more to block him as they come through; but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Just like you can’t bring yourself to delete the pictures of you two together peppered throughout your camera roll, or the most recent video that does nothing but make you sick to your stomach.

Tuesday night your roommate returns to campus, cheery and well rested from a weekend with her boyfriend back home. You hide from her friendly questions about your weekend in the bathroom, shrouded in steam and bubbles.

Looking at yourself in the mirror after you're sufficiently pruned and chilled from freeze drops, you notice the traces of Dokyeom still on your skin. 

A tiny maroon bruise is fading to a sick green right under your collar bone. Prodding it with the tip of your finger, you wince at the tenderness of the flesh. 

You hate it. 

Hate how somehow your eyes are thick with a gloss of tears at the sight of a hickey, they way you can’t catch your breath when you realize the shirt you brought in with you is another one of his you lifted over the months.

Dokyeom hadn’t been your boyfriend. You two hadn’t even been casually dating. Over and over again you remind yourself you were just friends who had sex, and you shouldn’t be this torn up over a guy. Dokyeom didn’t like you and that wasn’t something to hold against him. 

But the facts do nothing to stop the knot permanently lodged in your throat.

—

The first time you see Dokyeom post-not-breakup, he’s sitting in one of the rolling chairs at the mahogany table you two claimed for your usual study sessions. 

Blood frozen, heart clenching unbearably, you turn and walk right back out the revolving glass doors, hoping he didn’t see you.

But the echo of quick footsteps behind you say otherwise.

“Hey! Y/N!”

Faltering for a moment, you keep walking as if you hadn’t heard anything. And because the universe has a sick sense of humor, the crossing light turns red just as you approach, leaving you stranded with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You whip around at tap against your arm with such ferocity you nearly stumble.

Dokyeom has the gall to smile at you sheepishly before opening his mouth, “Hey.”

“Hi.” 

“You weren’t in lab yesterday.”

“Nope.” You respond monotonously, glancing behind you at the still red crossing light.

“Did you need notes or—”

“No, I got them already.”

“Oh, well—”

The light turns green, allowing you to race across the road before Dokyeom can finish his thought. The heat of his gaze doesn't leave your back until you turn down the next road leading you home.

—

Your second interaction with Dokyeom is in the same sterile lab your friendship started. You slip inside just before class starts, narrowly avoiding getting locked out by your grumpy instructor. 

Sliding into an open seat near the door, you stare straight ahead as he delves into the topic for this afternoon, pointedly ignoring the pair of eyes watching you from the familiar station at the back of the room.

“Finals are almost upon us people so I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the lab is not open after hours. Meaning, you should prioritize your time in this room. Now let’s get started.”

The guy you’ve been partnered with is nice enough, willing to follow your lead as you read off the necessary equipment. He even manages to crack a few jokes, though not funny you’re thankful for the distraction.

You learn his name is San, he’s an underclassman and he doesn’t understand anything about the class despite attending every lecture and office hour available. 

When he leans over to copy the results you’ve scratched into your notebook, you hear a crack and shatter behind you. A dozen heads twist towards the source of commotion, finding a red faced Dokyeom staring at you.

“Mr. Lee! May I remind you our lab equipment isn’t cheap!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, shuffling towards the broom hanging on the wall.

You focus on ignoring him the rest of class, which is surprisingly easy with your new partner pestering you with inane questions. 

A lull hits, waiting for the digital scale to spit out a final reading. You managed to pull well ahead of schedule, calling over your instructor to verify your results before collecting your things. 

“So,” San starts, stuffing his own notebook in his bag. “Would you be down to tutor me sometime?”

“Oh, I uh—”

“No pressure! I just saw some of the old quizzes in your folder and thought maybe you could help me out.”

“Sure,” you smile, taking his phone to enter his number. 

Voices from the different stations echo off the blank walls, drowning your conversation out.

“Awesome! My boyfriend took this class last year but did about as well as I’m doing.”

Returning his phone back, you start walking to the door. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah, he told me to take geology instead but I didn’t listen.” He laughs, stepping forward to hold the heavy wooden door open for you to pass.

You miss the sound of a second beaker breaking as you walk down the hall with your new friend.

—

“Dude, you have got to calm down.” Soonyoung pleads, head hanging off the couch as his legs extend into the air. He swears the increased blood flow makes him smarter.

Dokyeom nearly wears a rut into the carpet from his pacing across the length of their tiny living room. He’s been in a mood since that afternoon, watching his not-girlfriend-possibly-no-longer-friend giggle with some dude that wasn’t him. And then give her number to said dude. In front of him. All while she completely ignored his existence.

“He probably just asked her to study together.”

Jealousy isn’t Dokyeom’s thing. Sure he may whine and pout if he isn’t getting enough attention, but he’s never got the blood boil urge scream like he has right now. And about a girl that won’t even look at him.

Tangling both fists in his hair, Dokyeom tries to calm down. Soonyoung was probably right. You’re a genius at chemistry, you’re slated to officially tutor through the library next semester pending final grades, and the guy Dokyeom swears he’s never seen in class most likely asked you for help. It’s not his place to be jealous.

“Hate to be that guy but you need to get a grip”

It's easier said than done. There's four more weeks of class plus a four hour final and your Seungkwan’s friend. You’re not going to disappear after the semester ends and Dokyeom’s feelings surely aren’t going anywhere given he’s got a constant reminder that you’re the woman he lost his virginity to. 

If he knew inviting you to that party at the beginning of the semester would end up like this, he'd have sat somewhere else the first day of lab.

Soonyoung chokes on his own saliva when Dokyeom collapses on the floor with a reluctant, “You’re right.”

“I am?” Eyes bugging so hard they nearly pop from his head.

“I just have to move on.”

They both silently agree to pretend Dokyeom is capable of that.

—

San and his boyfriend, Jay, turn out to be horrible study partners. You are hardly able to focus from the way your abs hurt from laughter; Jay has a talent for self-deprecating humor.

“You didn’t!” You gasp, ignoring the daggers being glared into you back by other library goers. 

Typically you’d respect the needs of others, but they chose to sit on the first floor; if they needed real quiet they should have sat upstairs where it’s enforced by a graduate librarian with nothing better to do.

Jay nods solemnly, “I threw up on him during our first date. But he,” flinging an accusatory finger at his boyfriend, “insisted we go to some weird food truck so it’s his own fault.”

“You said you liked to try new things!” San defends.

“Not food poisoning!”

Descending into giggles, you feel sorry Seungkwan is missing out on two people he’d get along with. But he canceled at the last minute, leaving you at the large oak table all by your lonesome until you’d run into your classmate, looking for a seat.

From the corner of your eye, you see a familiar someone approaching. White blonde hair and trademark grin, Soonyoung stops at the edge of the table.

“Hey, Y/N” he grins.

Sending him a tightlipped smile you return the greeting.

Soonyoung introduces himself to your tablemates, both just as friendly as he. Thick palpable tension descends into the warm atmosphere and you’re about to rise and get another coffee just to escape it when Soonyoung turns back to you.

“Could I take a look at your results from the last lab? We didn’t get to finish in time.”

The unspoken half of ‘we’ is Dokyeom. 

You hate the flare of curiosity flashing in your head. When you partnered with Dokyeom you always finished on time if not early, even with his joking.

“Ugh, sure.” You agree, digging into your bag for your notebook.

Not waiting for an invitation, Soonyoung slides into the chair next to you, pulling out his own notebook to copy down your answers quickly. But even after collecting the necessary info, he lingers.

“So you’re in lab with us too, right?” He asks San.

“Yeah, but I’m probably taking it again next year even with Y/N’s help.” San smiles.

“And you?” Soonyoung asks Jay.

“No, I took it last year.”

“Glad to see someone can make it out alive! Do you guys mind if I hang out until my friend arrives?”

The friend is definitely Dokyeom but you don’t want to look like a bitch in front of your new acquaintances nor have to explain the mess of your love life to either of them. 

Soonyoung’s self satisfied grin when you flash a tight lipped smile and nod nearly tempts you into strangling him. Why is he choosing to torture you? It’s Dokyeom’s fault no matter how you look at the situation. He tricked you; had you falling for the saccharine persona and ambiguous confessions. Dokyeom rejected you at the cabin for everyone to see, humiliated you, and then had the nerve to act upset when you wouldn’t speak to him.

You try to focus on the worksheet in front of you, a proactive effort to prepare for the final exam still far away. Drowning in extra credit had been an exhaustive effort to get your mind off of your issues but Soonyoung had to ruin it. And now he’s laughing with San and Jay like best friends and it’s all too much. 

Shooting up from your seat, they all stop to stare as shaky hands pack up your materials. “Sorry, I forgot I had a thing. Somewhere else. Bye!” 

Halfway to the door before anyone thinks to question your eagerness to leave, you walk right into another person.

“Shit sorry!” The faceless stranger exclaims as your books and papers go flying.

“No, I should have been watching wher–”

And when you look up, Dokyeom is staring back. 

“Sorry, let me help you.” 

“It's fine!” You snap, scrambling to shove everything into your bag.

You will not cry in the library: not over Dokyeom, not in front of Dokyeom. But once the concrete steps out front greet you the first tear falls and they don’t stop until you fall asleep curled up in your bed.

—

Later that week, in the sanctuary of your dorm, you indulge in contraband alcohol and the hype of your best friend.

“You need to just rip the bandaid off.” Seungkwan announces, arms thrown wide to punctuate his point.

“And how do I do that? I still have class with him!”

“Okay but how much of his stuff is still here?”

“Only like a few things.” you shrug, glancing around the room.

“Oh, really?” Seungkwan asks, throwing himself from his perch on your bed, crossing to the basket full of laundry in front of your closet.  “Because this is a hoodie from his high school, this is the shirt I got him for his birthday a few years ago,” he shuffles around the collection of socks and pants to pull more of Dokyeom’s belongings out. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t wear boxers.”

Seungkwan launched the wad of clothing your way, disappearing into the bathroom in search of more evidence of your ex-friend with benefits.

“You let him keep a toothbrush here?” Seungkwan yells, head popping out with the neon green piece of plastic dangling between his fingers.

It's tossed into the growing pile at the foot of your bed, your rage-fueled focus on the smattering of objects on your desk. 

More cheap wine and outrageous laughter has Seungkwan encouraging you to race across campus and return everything as soon as possible.

Red faced, he steadies you by your arms, “Listen, the sooner you get rid of this stuff the better. You’re like subconsciously holding on to him or whatever.”

Mooney eyed, you nod at your friend’s wisdom, scrambling for a bag.

The tote of Dokyeom’s belongings you’ve accumulated over the months sits heavy on your shoulders; bulging with the assortment of clothes, a spare phone charger, and a book that was severely overdue at the library you’d found under your bed.

Each click of your shoe against the tile floor echoes in the eerie silence as you walk down the hall towards the door of his apartment. The sterile lighting and gray walls are familiar yet alien under the new circumstances you're visiting. 

You won’t be greeted with the smile you’ve grown to miss or the puppy-like excitement that once made you feel special. Both things of the past you hope to forget. No one had your heart fluttering or twisting in knots the way Dokyeom had. But those happy memories are just memories. And the sooner you cut him out, the sooner you can forget them.

Your fiery determination to get over him ignited in the walls of your bedroom had begun to smolder as the chilly wind and movement sobered you up. 

A large part of you hopes it’ll be Soonyoung answering the door, Dokyeom absent for whatever convenient reason as you dumped his belongings and walked away for the last time. Worse case scenario, neither are home and you're left feeling like an idiot, lugging the ridiculously heavy bag back across campus in the freezing wind and rain. 

Worse-er case scenario, Dokyeom is home.

The door to the boys’ apartment is like all the others, but the hot pink “please don’t do coke in our bathroom” doormat stands out. A gift from Jeonghan, if you remember correctly.

A quick rap of knocks announces your presence before you can lose your nerve, stepping back as you wait for it to crack open.

As luck would have it, Dokyeom answers the door.

“Um–” he starts, clearly confused by what he’s seeing.

Shoulders square, back pin straight, you thrust the bag at him. “Here’s your stuff.”

“Oh.” Dokyeom exclaims, still confused, but cradling the tote into his stomach.

“Well, bye.” You turn to leave but stop when he calls you back.

“I can grab your stuff real quick. Since you’re already here.”

It is a horrible idea. Alone with Dokyeom, in his apartment, where the only person to hold you accountable is yourself. But you can be done with this entire mess once you have the hodge podge of items you’ve no doubt accumulated here.

Nodding once, you follow as Dokyeom turns to head towards his bedroom.

Suffocating tension, thick as tar, fills the air. Dokyeom doesn't attempt to replace it with ill timed jokes as he digs in the black dresser in the corner of his room. The bottom left drawer had been long cleaned out of his own clothes, making room for the odds and ends left behind following your rendezvous. 

A sizable pile of clothes lands on his unmade bed, followed by some toiletries you forgot at the cabin in your haste to flee.

Your ears are ringing from the quiet at this point, unable to look at Dokyeom swapping his belongings from the canvas tote with your own. Focusing on your phone, you scroll mindlessly, as Dokyeom works slowly to prolong the torture. He unfolds and refolds all the shirts, lost pairs of pants and shorts, before cramming them into the bag. If you took a second to look at him, you’d see longing glances in your direction with each item he packs away. But you don’t chance it until he approaches you when he’s finished.

“Here,” he says, eyes downcast as he hands you back the full bag.

Lifting it from his hands, you move back to the living room, bee lining for the front door and the sobering cold air outside.

“Wait.”

The smooth metal doorknob is cold against the wrinkles of your palm. All you need to do is twist and it's over. Unlatch the lock, step outside and your relationship with Dokyeom, whatever it may have been, is done. No more crying, no more wondering. Only four more classes and you can leave the mess of the past semester behind you forever.

But you can’t do it. The smallest part of your heart, buried under the weight of anger and sadness, pleads for you to stay. To give Dokyeom one last chance.

You wait for him to say something else, not moving a muscle as you take shallow breaths. Body tense in preparation, you’re afraid you might shake out of your skin. Being alone with Dokyeom was a stupid idea. 

Realizing you're not going to leave, you hear him shuffle closer.

You jump when he speaks again, voice right over your shoulder. “Can we please talk?” 

“What’s there to talk about?” You frown. 

At his responding silence, you chance a glance over your shoulder, met with sad brown eyes. 

“I just—,” he shakes his head, chin tipping towards the floor to examine his socks.

Prompting him again, “What do you want, Dokyeom?”

“You asked me if I liked you… and I do.”

You squash the seed of hope rooting in your chest, afraid that if he tramples it again you’ll never recover. Turning to face him, you cross your arms pensively. His confession should send your heart racing and your cheeks flushing. But why does he sound so sad about it?

Dokyeom scrubs a hand down his face in frustration. “I should have told you sooner but I— I kept waiting for the right time and then that night happened and I thought I messed everything up. But then we started fooling around so I thought ‘there’s no way she likes me.’ You know? 

From where you’re standing, Dokyeom is exactly the kind of guy anyone would go for. Warm as a ray of sunshine, contagious laughter, thoughtful. Excited by life, and brimming with affection for anyone lucky enough to be considered his friend. 

It’s a shame he can’t see himself the way you see him.

“I know all you wanted was to hook up and I was fine with that until you came to the cabin. Soonyoung had to run his mouth, and I thought you were trying to let me down easy in the hot tub so I got embarrassed.”

Biting your lip to stop the rebuttal simmering on the tip of your tongue, you feel the scowl melt off your face, morphing into a questioning gaze.

“You’re like, the coolest person I know. You’re funny and you’re smart and pretty, god you’re so pretty.” he breaths, finally looking at you. “And I feel like every time I get to see you I can’t breathe. And us hooking up made it worse because I’ve liked you since the first day of class when you sat down next to me and smiled at me. I thought I was gonna throw up.” Dokyeom raises his hands in defense as you scoff, quickly clarifying, “In a good way! You just— you make me nervous and stupid and now you hate me.”

He finishes the last part in a whisper, face vulnerable, looking at you helplessly.

“I don’t hate you.” You warble, launching yourself into his arms, tangling your limbs around him to squeeze as close as possible. It’s ungraceful, your head knocking into his chin, his feet scrambling to balance the unexpected shift of weight. But Dokyeom barely hesitates before pulling you into his chest, face buried in your neck while trying to force you into his skin by his arms around your waist.

Two puzzle pieces, carved to fit perfectly together. 

“You don’t?”

Squeezing him tighter, you calm in the thud of his heart and the pine scent of his cologne. You both simply bask in the presence of one another. At a week and a half, this is the longest you’ve gone without the other since you started your arrangement.

Dokyeom presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, sweet as sugar. His lips ghost against your hairline as he starts to speak again. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”

“I shouldn’t have called you childish.” You apologize, tipping your head back to meet his gaze.

“I mean you were right. I was being a dick.”

“But I wasn’t in any shape to call you out when I was doing the same thing.”

“The same…” Dokyeom echoes, confused.

“If we weren’t so dumb we could have been dating for weeks by now.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” You smile.

“We really are dumb.”

Pure unadulterated joy takes flight on his face. Dokyeom cups your face in his hands, forehead meeting your own as you smile at him, his own dazzling in return.

“Yeah, but at least we have each other.”

The bark of awkward laughter and shaky words are unstoppable as you cower in his arms. 

“So you’re okay with me calling you my girlfriend?”

“You can call me whatever you want.” You sigh, biting your lip at the idea.

“Even my shmoopie poopie?”

Nose scrunching as you laugh at his ridiculousness, you shake your head vigorously in objection. “You can call me whatever you want besides that.”

“Baby cakes?” He asks, peppering a kiss on your cheek.

“No!”

“Honeybuns?” 

Another kiss on the tip of your nose.

“No.”

“What about–”

A firm press to his mouth silences Dokyeom as you hum.

— 

Soonyoung returns to his apartment after another failed date, eager to shoot the shit with his roommate over a few beers and some video games. But when he opens the door to his home, he finds a trail of clothes flung haphazardly across the furniture, leading straight to said roommate's room. 

No fucking way. Soonyoung thinks. 

Then he hears a thud from behind the door, followed by a familiar laugh he hasn’t heard in the apartment in well over two weeks.

No FUCKING way! He huffs, reaching for his phone.

—

Down the street, Seungkwan smirks as the expected ding of a new Venmo notification shrills through the silence of your dorm:

“Kwon Soonyoung paid you $50.00. – HOW DID YOU KNOW? – Your Venmo balance is now $135.00.”

Epilogue:

Finals season rushes forward rapidly. Two days before you’re set to fly back home for winter break, Chem grades are released.

Another pair of matching As to be celebrated in typical fashion but this time you’re Dokyeom’s girlfriend and he’s sweating like it’s his first time all over again. The night you both confessed had been you last night together. Dokyeom insisted you take things slow, his fear of messing up again forcing him to take caution. 

It's sweet. How he wants to take you out, wine and dine you as if a certain video didn’t still exist on both your phones. And you’d enjoyed the full experience too; walks around campus with interlaced fingers, shy glances in class, and girlish giggles as he offered his jacket on a cold night. The innocent good night kisses dropped on your lips in front of your door that have Dokyeom insisting “just one more” for an hour before he finally lets you slip inside your room.

It’d been everything you dreamed of and more.

But you're both tired of make outs that lead nowhere. Of sitting in Dokyeom’s lap at parties and not letting your hands wonder like you’re both dying too. Waking up in his bed and pretending you don’t feel him nudging the curve of your ass as before he hides in the bathroom to take care of his boner; leaving you to stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to follow him into the shower and lend a helping hand.

Tonight, you’ve reached the boiling point and it’s spilling over.

“‘s okay?” He asks into the curve of your neck, palms gliding up your stomach underneath the soft cream sweater you’d worn to dinner.

Humming as your head lulls against the interior of his front door, the warmth of his mouth and hands making your brain fuzzy. Tonight, everything feels like more. Your nipples peak at the smallest brush of his tongue, back bowing under the swipes of his thumb against your ribs; even when he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your intertwined fingers on the walk to his apartment ripped the air from your lungs.

Dokyeom feels the nerves of that first night, but you’re acting like the desperate virgin he’d been. Drooling to touch and be touched. For your boyfriend to string you out one last time before you both return home for a few weeks of winter break only to pick right back up in the new year.

Snaking a hand down his front, you palm the half hard length with a firm pressure that pulls his hips forward like a magnet. A strained grunts sings in your ear as Dokyeom rocks firmly in your grip, pressing you into the wall under his torturous grind.

Turning to nudge your nose into his cheek softly, hot kisses dropping across his jaw as you bid him to take off his pants; pushing them down clumsily. You don’t bother with the brass button or rough zipper, blinded by desperation and simply clawing the stiff material downwards in an effort to get beneath.

You manage to trickle to your knees, slipping through Dokyeom’s hold like water. The hard floor biting into your skin as you kneel before him to mouth at the thin fabric of his boxer. Dokyeom’s elbows land against the wall, caging you in as he watches from above; entranced by the shallow dip of your lips over the covered head of his cock and the lash of your tongue where you taste him through the fabric.

Tonight isn’t the night for teasing, so you have his boxers landing atop his jeans around his ankles in a blink. Tongue following the vein bulging on the underside of his cock as your hand returns to allow your thumb to dig into his slit.

Dokyeom whimpers a pathetic “fuck,” as you play with him, eagerly lapping up his shaft before sucking him into your mouth; hand dropping to cup his balls, the other rest on his stomach to hold his own shirt out of the way.

You missed how responsive he is to your touch, melting in the palm of your hand as he chases the warmth of your mouth with his hips. Anyone who walks by the door would undoubtedly hear what’s happening on the other side, the choked whimpers from you and guttural moans from Dokyeom combining into a lewd symphony.

Head hitting the wall behind you with a dull thud, you let Dokyeom take over; humming as each press forward leaves the taste of his cock on your tongue. There’s something degrading in letting him fuck your mouth like this, sandwiched between his hips and the wall as he uses you to get off.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, tongue sticking out to bid him back but his slender fingers cupping your chin distract you straight into his lips.

Pulling you to your feet, Dokyeom dips his tongue between your lips as he leads you blindly to the couch. His mouth is nothing but taking; stealing your breath away, your sanity. Things you’d happily let him have if it meant he wouldn’t stop. But Dokyeom was a giver too. A slide of his tongue lit a fire under your skin, fanning the desperation bordering on depravity. 

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding your aching cunt against his thigh. 

Dokyeom responds by pressing into you harder, teeth tearing into your bottom lip as his cock drools against your thigh, staining your jeans.

You're so turned on it hurts, pussy painfully empty and panties drenched from heavy petting. If Dokyeom doesn’t do something soon, you have half a mind to get yourself off without him.

Dokyeom is trying, fighting to not to blow his load on your leg as you whine and arch beneath him. For him. But when you manage to close your fist around his length, giving a firm tug with the twist around the head you know he goes crazy for, it’s all over. Dokyeom’s core tightens as he spills on your sweater, streaks of his cum ruining the fabric as he pants into your mouth. Your tight grip doesn’t falter as you work him through it, teeth bruising his jaw as he paints you with his seed.

When Dokyeom gains sentience again, he winces in shame.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t— I wouldn’t,” he tries to apologize, but stops when you part your lips to lap at your stained fingers; eyes trained on the pink of your tongue dipping out to swipe against the tips for taste.

Mouth wide as he stares, Dokyeom thinks he might come again without any help as you suck your fingers. His own dip into the pool of cum dimpling across your stomach, lifting to your mouth to replace yours. Dokyeom groans as your eyes never leave his, heated and heavy lidded as lick them clean and swallow his cum.

Dropping his hand to the back of your neck, he angles your head so his tongue can delve into your mouth. It’s messy and disgusting but you like it and that’s all Dokyeom cares about as he works to free you both of your clothes. He’s stark naked easily, shirt gone over the back of the couch in no time. But your clothes require more focus than either of you are capable of when Dokyeom is on top of you.

His feet hit the ground before he rises to stand, dragging you up to roughly undress you. You don’t seem to mind if the way you fist your jeans down is an inclination. Outer layers gone, Dokyeom finally gets a peek at the early Christmas present you’d been hoping to surprise him with.

Lacy maroon panties and a match bra hug your figure, accentuating your shape in the most mouthwater ways. Eyebrows raised to his hairline, Dokyeom heaves at the masterpiece you present him with.

Drops of your flesh peek through the holes in the lace, teasing him with what’s underneath. The high cut sides of your thong dig into your hips, making your legs look impossibly long and highlighting the sway of your thighs. Straining to pull his eyes up further, Dokyeom finds the bottom hem of your bra. Tongue rolling out of his mouth as the cups push your breasts up and together, teasing Dokyeom with ideas of fucking his cock between them as you lick at the tip.

You look like a goddess and Dokyeom is happy to get on his knees to worship every inch.

Dokyeom catches you smirking at his obvious reaction when he finally looks at your face. Stepping into his space, your fingers find purchase in the short hairs at the base of his head. A cold sweat breaks on his brow as you smile like the cat who got the canary.

“Do you like my outfit, Kyeomie?” You ask, tone deceptively sweet.

If he was capable of any thought beyond cataloging the swaths of naked skin and curves, maybe he’d answer more eloquently than grunting like a caveman.

“I picked it for you.”

Dokyeom lets his hands find your hips, squeezing the plush flesh in his palms as you continue to toy with him. His fingers pluck the thin elastic while his mind wanders down the extensive list of things he’s dying to do to you.

“Do you wanna see the whole thing?”

“There’s more?”

Falling to the floor, you dig into the pocket of your jeans for whatever the last piece of your outfit, if you could call it that. Rising again you present him with a thin piece of ribbon and a silver chain, both causing Dokyeom’s face to twist in confusion.

You prompt him to take the scarlet ribbon, a perfect match to the set you’ve donned, allowing Dokyeom to spot the clasp at the ends and the small silver charm dangling in the middle.

A sun is embossed on the front of the circular piece of silver. And engraved on the back is his name.

Having his name around your throat while he fucked you isn’t a kink he knew existed. But now Dokyeom is pretty sure he’ll be haunted by the idea for the rest of his life. The silver chain still in your hands has a similar charm but with a moon. Dokyeom’s vision goes fuzzy and his brain clouds at the assumption your name is on the back to match.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask innocently, turn around so Dokyeom can slip what he can only describe as a mock collar around your neck.

Dokyeom latches the clasp with shaky hands, the strip of silk pulled taunt around your neck with each breath. When you face him once again, the charm sits in the hollow of your throat, silver winking at him seductively. 

The icy metal of the chain bites into his skin erotically as you raise to clasp it around his neck. Your nose nudges against his jaw, a ghosting open mouth kiss landing on his jugular as the charm teases the muscles of his chest where it dangles.

You land on the couch with a squeak, taken aback by Dokyeom shredding the delicate fabric of your panties with clumsy hands as he struggles to get them off you. Bullying his way between your legs, he apologizes with a heavenly strip of his tongue through your slit.

He eats you like a man starved, nails leaving crescents in the tops of your thighs as he spreads you so wide the muscles in your hips scream in objection. Dokyeom’s tongue dips into your hole, collecting your essence on his tongue before spitting it back on your clit and digging in. The swollen nub slips against the flat of his wet muscle, and when his lips gently close around it he sucks just the way you taught him to you he’s rewarded with a wanton sob.

Whines fly from between your lips at the torturous pleasure, thrashing as Dokyeom uses all his strength to pin you and place. Spots dance along your vision, expanding as two fingers push past your folds to stretch you out. Dokyeom knows your pussy like the back of his hand and he stuffs you just right with his fingers.

All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hold on tightly as you fly over the edge. Racing forward under the heat of Dokyeom’s mouth and harsh thrusts of his fingers till you weep pitifully. You’re floating through space under his attention; mouth open over silent begs not to stop, eyes clenched shut. Every beat of your frantic heart carries satisfaction through tense muscles till you are pliant and boneless.

“Too much,” you whimper, thighs forcing close around his head.

Dokyeom takes it in stride. The combination of your essence and his saliva soaking chin, leaving a damp trail across your body as he kisses his way to your mouth.

His thumb finds the ribbon taunt around your throat, focusing on the piece of metal resting against your skin as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Panting into his mouth, you mewl something vaguely sounding like “want you.”

Luckily, Dokyeom is more than happy to give you whatever you want.

Nodding like a bobble head, he pulls you down into his lap as he kneels on the floor. The head of his cock proddes against your entrance, slipping in just enough for you to take the rest with ease.

The stretch is nothing short of bliss; so deep you can taste him in the back of your throat. Dokyeom fills you perfectly, the small nip of pain from not taking him in the past month only multiplying the satisfaction you feel at finally having him inside you again.

With herculean effort, you rise to allow only a few inches to exit before dropping back down. Hands searching for leverage, you balance on the cushions behind you as you grind into his lap.

Dokyeom doesn’t know where to look, overwhelmed by his options; your face twisted around gasping breaths; or your chest, still clad in your bra, tits bouncing with each movement; or where his cock disappears inside you. 

But the silver heart around your throat seems to snag his focus easily.

Dokyeom isn’t possessive but the way it not so subtly declares you as his makes his cock throb. He’s the only one that gets to have you like this, and you him. The twin pendants remind him you’re his girlfriend and everything beyond slips away as he watches it jerk around with every movement.

Before long, your legs burn from effort, ruining your already unstable motions into nothing more than stuttered ruts. Dokyeom’s hands palming your ass assist in lifting you to the couch, limbs awkwardly sprawled off the edges but he doesn’t slow while your nails scratch deep lines into his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t stop! Fuck, please don’t stop.” You beg, head thrown back into the cushions.

Stopping sounds like the worst idea he’s ever heard. Dokyeom needs this. Gloved snuggly in your heat after so long is the only cure for the constant plague of memories of pestering him day and night. He knows they won’t go away but at least he won’t feel like ripping his skin off every time you're within a fifteen foot radius.

The wet clap of your bodies grows to a crescendo, your orgasm on the horizon and tightening your muscles into a deathgrip on his length. Spots float in Dokyeom’s vision at the squeeze and he drops his mouth to yours to lap up all your high pitched whines.

When he rises again to gasp against his own pleasure, the chain you gifted him dangles right above your lips and a nuclear bomb detonates.

You cum again with Dokyeom’s thumb under the ribbon encircling your neck, a tease of choked breath as he rubs the charm like a lifeline. Voice cracking, earth shatter, mind numb pleasure from the tip of your nose to your pinky toe. 

Dokyeom is babbling over you. Rhythm abandoned as he subjected to the tight squeeze of your worn cunt until that punch to his gut hits. Each rope of cum makes his cock throb as he plows you with a deep thrust, stilling to empty himself inside you.

You're fully crushed into the itchy upholstery as his arms buckle.

“Wow,” you gasp, catching your breath.

What else can you say? A month of no touching culminating into the best sex of your life with your devastating boyfriend while he wears a chain with your name on it.

Dokyeom cackles into your collarbone, chest tickling against yours until he leans back to look at you. 

His hair resembles an electrocuted poodle, his lips are red and swollen, and sweat glosses his skin in the low light. But Dokyeom is glowing with life and happiness and all the things that make the world good.

“I love you.”

Dokyeom responds with a girlish shriek at your impromptu confession. 

“Damn, okay.” You laugh, staring at his bare ass as he runs a lap around the living room stark naked.

“You can’t just— I wanted to say it first!” He pouts before flopping down on top of you.

“Are you serious?” Breathless from his weight, you fail to push him off you as he flails like a fish. “Is that what you’re focusing on?” 

“Yes,” Dokyeom grouches into your cheek. “You’re the first girl I’ve felt this way about and I wanted to…”

He trails off, suddenly embarrassed. Your entire relationship was many of Dokyeom’s firsts. The first person he had sex with, first college girlfriend he told his mom and sister about, and now the first girl to make him truly understand loving another person. It wasn’t something you held over his head, and some of it he didn’t even tell you about but it all tallies up in his mind how unprepared he is for it all. 

“Minnie, look at me.”

You don’t speak again until he finally meets your gaze. 

“I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” You sigh.

Dokyeom doesn’t catch hint, “We were talking about–”

“Nope, can’t seem to recall.” 

Finally, he catches the playful pout and the way your eyes cut back his as you look around the room feigning ignorance. And because he’s Dokyeom and you’re a sucker for anything he does, you can’t stop the smile mirroring his own when softly traces the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

#svthub #lee seokmin #lee seokmin x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt #dokyeom #seokmin x reader #seokmin smut #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #🫡 highvern

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Birthday Buzz

Mattheo Riddle x Reader 

A/N: hi! loving your feedback and constructive criticism, so if you feel like sharing your opinion, feel free to do such! love ya 

Summary: How birthday day can go in such a different way than initially planned. 

Warnings: oh yes! language, some mild graphics (make-up lol), bitchy Pansy, and... have I mentioned language??

Word Count (bruh): 5.1k 

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

No one would have convinced Y/N in the morning that what had just transpired was coming around, in such a slapdash rapidity as it had. Even so, with that clear-cut fact smacking her right across the face was it still so damn hard to believe that... that it was true.  

She must be hallucinating. Or dreaming. Even the phenomenon of swines with the wings in the air would have been more feasible than... what was that exactly?  

It all started with Y/N descending to the Great Hall, the walls woven with the luminant sunlight of the spring. Entering the room, humid and somewhat irksome (it was Monday, everything is irksome on Mondays, alright?), she instantly noticed a few details: McGonagall's new insipid hairstyle, the plate with her go-to breakfast already stowed in her regular sitting spot, Pansy’s huge grin tacked on her lips, and Blaise missing. The latest part surprised Y/N the most because she knew that Blaise would never skip a breakfast, and these were his usual hours of arriving; maybe he had already eaten?  

Also, what’s the Pansy’s deal with smiling like a madman who overdosed on the crack?  

What in the world...  

“Haiya you!” Pansy scrambled to her feet, without giving Y/N a chance to query. “Guess what! Or no, you are so bullshit at guessing anyways... Slytherin is throwing a party today!”  

The last part of her sentence came out in a feverish murmur, so that the Teachers’ Table wouldn’t overhear their conversation, and only loud enough for Y/N to hear. Still, her excitement was speaking volumes and Y/N wondered quickly whether Pansy really hadn’t dosed on a shot or two before the breakfast. Not that she wasn’t like that on a daily basis.  

“What? It’s literally the beginning of the week.”

“But not every week does someone have a birthday!” As Pansy’s elation gently receded, was then Y/N able to finally to abscond herself at the table and munch on the already-prepared food. Upon seeing Y/N frowning, Pansy let out a shrill shriek which made a few people nearby glance crabwise at the two. “You didn’t forget, did you?”  

“About what?”  

Another shriek followed. “Mattheo’s birthday!”  

An awkward grimace popped on Y/N’s face, brows knitting together. “Well... if you haven’t noticed, we are not precisely on the friendly terms.”  

Pansy made a fish-like O with her mouth, obviously about to say something appeasing, but the grunt next to Y/N interrupted. Promptly, she looked for the owner of the voice and was astonished to learn that the rest of their group was siding just next to her and Pansy, ostensibly listening to their exchange from the starters.  

“Well, well... just look who has finally decided to acknowledge the rest of her friends. Good morning to you too, Y/N.”  

She smirked. “No need to be so bitter, Theo. A few more years of practice and you may replace Snape in his disgruntlement.” A snort issued at the table and Y/N, complacent, grinned cheekily at Theo who only huffed. “Oh, don’t be like that, Theo, you know I love you.” Laying her head against his shoulder, she patted him at the top of his head. “There, there...”  

“So... party you say,” spoke up Draco for the first time. He was chewing on his morning toast, evidently amused by the entire scene, but his eyes had a ghost of a question in them. Y/N already knew that this topic wasn’t going to slip by as easily. “Have you really forgotten about Mattheo?”  

A smear of naked embarrassment splattered on Y/N’s cheeks. A part of her wanted to tell everyone to back off and just let her be, but at the same time, she knew she had blundered. It didn’t matter if they were close with Mattheo or not; they belonged to the same coterie, so it entangled some commitment. Even if that indicated associating with the bombastic entitlement of Mattheo for longer than the ideal time.  

“Mhm... Yeah. You know. How was I supposed to know, really. We barely talk.” While saying so, Y/N made sure to perform the best glower she could pull off. She felt extremely petulant while doing so, but she wanted to fend for herself and not let anyone manoeuvre her into culpability.  

“I told you about that, like two days ago!” Pansy had a distinct air of displeasure, as though personally offended by the occurrence. “I specifically highlighted ‘please, try to remember, it’s important’ and you said ‘fine’!”

“Well, I did not remember. And so, what? Don’t make such a big fuss about that. It’s not like he cares anyways,” Y/N said that with a nose in her breakfast plate, trying to avert the gaze from the rest, especially from Pansy who seemed to be at the brink of incredulity.  

She should have remembered though. She should have.  

Shit, shit, shit...  

Theo grunted again. “It’s not the end of the world, Pansy, we only have to find a way to... make Y/N appear like she’s not an ignorant brat who forgot about her friend's birthday.” A beat. Theo peeked at Y/N goadingly, but she was already shooting daggers at him; that made him smirk. “She can pin her name on the present we got with Blaise.”  

“Thank you, that’s really sweet,” said Y/N, making a U-turn and smiling gratefully at her friend. Gosh, she didn’t know what she would have done without this insolent arse. In order to take the limelight off herself, Y/N continued: “Why did you decide to organize the party so last-minute, anyways?”

“We didn’t know till now if we would be able to smuggle the booze,” said Draco through the half-full mouth.  

“And how ar--”  

“Don’t ask,” interjected Pansy with the look that explicitly indicated that Y/N wouldn’t like to know that piece of information. “Blaise is fixing everything.”  

In response, Y/N merely nodded.  

“So here is a deal,” Pansy continued after a beat. She lowered her timbre as if revealing a top-secret gossip to a bunch of nine-year-olds. “When Mattheo comes down, we are going to pretend like we don’t remember about his birthday. He is going to be sulking all day long and stuff-”

“Highly doubt th-”  

“However.” If the looks could kill, Theo would be surely laying prostrate, French-kissing the floor. “At around...” She looked at her wristwatch. “8-ish, Y/N will ask Mattheo if he could help her out, at the same time hauling him to the Common Room. And that’s when all of us will jump out and hold a fucking “Surprise” banner right in front of his pretty face. Clear much?”  

Y/N exhaled, with one nagging thought in her head. Why was she always the one to be arranged in such a setting with Mattheo? Her friends were acutely aware of the enmity between the two, yet they always impelled them to work together, both if it came to the school projects or even the group hangouts when everyone – beside her and Mattheo, obviously – would suddenly mingle out of the gathering last-minute.  

As if sensing the ongoing dissension in Y/N’s head, Pansy critically eyed Y/N and furrowed, precisely addressing her concerns: “Something to add, Y/N?”  

“No, I love the plan,” she replied quickly, after a moment of contemplation. “It’s that I’m not sure about the latest bit. I—I don’t know if he will accede, you know, with helping me out. We aren’t that friendly, so it may seem a tad suspicious that all of the sudden I’m asking him for a favour.”  

No one said anything for a couple of seconds, but everyone seemed to be having the same hardwired thought as they threw each other the same bemused look, chewing the silence away. The tension of the message, so palpable it was, that it made Y/N snap out of the anticipation; she turned to Pansy, catching the waft of her strong double expresso, and then ogled each of her friends with an expectant eye.  

“What?” Her tone seemed brusque, even to herself. “Why are you all acting so... meek? Is there something I don’t know about?” And then, the thought dawned at her: “Has Mattheo said something about me?”  

Another round of chary looks followed, but before anyone was able to lodge a definite answer to the barrage of Y/N’s questions, the voice from behind echoed:  

“Morning, everyone.”  

Y/N whirled so abruptly, it almost cost her a whiplash, but when she saw the way Mattheo suited himself today, it most definitely caused her that whiplash. He was clad in a button-up shirt, the last couple of buttons undone and exposing the cleavage; his hair of the usual dark-brown curl was tumbling in its usual haphazard style and accentuating his prominent cheekbones; most definitely, the vague scar across his face did not make Y/N anyhow randy. Anyhow!

What struck Y/N the most, however, was the halo above his head – sunlight seeping through the Great Hall’s windows and highlighting Mattheo’s figure. The image was so angelic, so lofty, it suddenly caused the dryness in her throat. She thought she must be melting under those caramel-brown eyes like a humongous puddle of sweat and adoration.  

No, she most definitely did not develop a crush on her frenemy, that couldn’t be right.    

Y/N suddenly realized that she might be gawking, so she promptly returned to her previous position, all her aptitude to eat and breathe gone. Sidewise, she also noticed Pansy grinning knowingly at her, and when Y/N gave her an evil eye, she merely shrugged in a manner of “you know what I mean.”  

Mattheo, instead of occupying his usual spot at the table, squeezed in between Y/N and some Slytherin second-year. Y/N had a vague impression that he was awaiting his friends to suddenly burst singing “Happy Birthday” or bestow him with wishes, because his lips were pressed in a thin line, and he was silently scooping the porridge from the ornamental bowl.  

“So, what’s new, Mattheo?” asked Theo which felt so widely inappropriate that Y/N suddenly had an urge to boot him.  

From this proximity, Y/N could perceive the brief flash of hurt across Mattheo’s features, but that was only for milliseconds. He plastered a sham smile on his face, and only tipped off with a short: “Not much.”  

“We were actually talking,” started Pansy, carefully. “That Y/N needed some tutoring in Potions.” This time, Y/N seriously contemplated booting someone. Namely, Pansy. “Maybe you could help her, Mattheo? You are good at Potions, right?”  

Dismissing Pansy’s last question, Mattheo finally eyed Y/N who was maxing out the redness of her face. She gave him a bashful smile. “Really? I thought you were good at Potions.”  

The blankness overcame her. Y/N, clearly at whom the question was directed, tried to contrive a blatant lie but failing more and more as the seconds elapsed. Panic-stricken, she looked at Pansy who was witnessing the entire fall with a pained expression.  

Shit.  

“I-- I have a problem with this n-new topic. Something connected with Pepperup Potion,” she finally spluttered out, after what felt like forever. Once more, she glanced at Pansy who gave her the thumbs-up (that crone!), but she made the point of averting Mattheo’s gaze. “But sure, if you don’t want t--”  

“No problem,” he broke off Y/N’s exhausted ramble. “Around 6-ish then?”  

“Actually,” said Pansy. “Me and Y/N are headed to the Hogsmeade at that time. Girly things, you know. Maybe you can meet up, afterward, like 7-ish?”

“Mhm, yeah, why not. As long as it’s okay with Y/N.” He shortly looked at her but she, mortified, merely responded with a nod of agreement.

“It’s settled then!” Pansy exclaimed a coda with a sort of exuberance which, apparently, nobody else shared. And Y/N couldn’t help but think how interesting her one-to-one with Mattheo is going to be.  

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXXOXO

Precisely two minutes before the appointed time, Y/N was at the foot of the library, taking in deep breaths.  

She didn’t know why she felt so overwrought. She thought she must be overreacting. It’s not like her and Mattheo hadn’t been alone with each other before.  

Rather, the opposite – they had been. Plenty of times.  

The worst part was, or the funniest -- Y/N wasn’t sure in which terms she should regard that case – she constantly kept recollecting the same printed image of Mattheo from the morning. In his unbuttoned shirt, with that tousled hair which really gave him a look of a lead vocalist from the “Weird Sisters.” And the weirdest bit was that Y/N found that immensely attractive.  

Maybe there was something wrong with her? Maybe it was her hormones butting in, her pre-period thirst for what’s been chucked by the universe? And again, why would the universe be afflicting her?  

Deciding that she would probably not find any answers to those unabating thoughts, Y/N thought that there was no longer point of dangling in front of the entrance like some kind of mule. She pushed the door, treaded through a couple of book sections before finally localizing Mattheo with his usual cavalier aura. He was scribbling something rather intently on the piece of parchment in front of him, so much was he absorbed that he didn’t even flinch when Y/N strode over to the table.  

She cleared her throat, announcing her presence. “Hey.”  

He ultimately quirked up, and gosh was he so unbelievingly charming. Even after a day of meandering in the same clothes, he still made an impression of impeccable, and when his eyes met Y/N’s irresolute gaze, he smiled at her softly. Something flittered in Y/N’s stomach, and she only hoped that it was that sketchily-looking croissant that she had eaten.  

“Hey,” he spoke in a stoic manner, simultaneously gesturing at the chair next to him. “Take a seat.”

And so she did; from that distance she could smell the scent of his cologne – cedarwood mixed with an enticing trace of bourbon. Damn him.  

“Huh, so shall we start?” he asked as Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his face. “Or will you just keep staring?”  

At once, Y/N tore her gaze away from his face, a blush blotching her cheeks; she felt positively mortified, warmth venturing from the chest to the nape of her neck. Well, it will take her some time to recover from that... “Yeah,” she laughed out, breathlessly. “Sorry.”  

He merely shook his head, then plucked the course book from his satchel, and dragged it between the two of them. Without further ado, he commenced explaining the topic to her (“Pepperup Potion is quite a facile topic” Yeah, no shit, Flamel) in his calming voice, tracing his finger over the ingredients and elucidating their cruciality in finalization of the potion.  

And while he was explaining all of that, composed and unbothered as if it were his daily lark, Y/N was on the other side of the spectrum – never had her body undergone something like that: her brain muddled, thoughts garbled, heart doing cartwheels whenever she looked up at Mattheo. She even noticed those little things about him, like the way his fingers smoothly flipped the pages, the way he pursed his lips whenever he was deeply immersed in his thoughts, or even that he had this sweet, little habit of raking his fingers through his hair.  

Y/N, at the same time, absolutely detested herself for having those thoughts – superficial, distractive, unnecessary, delusory, egregious, and...

She was staring again and, from the peripheries of his vision, Mattheo had noted that because he was eyeing her again in the matter of seconds, clearly saying something but Y/N couldn’t string those words together. Only after a couple of seconds did she parse what he had asked.  

“Yes, I’m fine...” she answered, swallowing the pit in her throat. Then, she inspected her watch – 7.47 -- and decided that it was a high time for them to bestir. “I’m just feeling... tired. Maybe we should get going, you know.”  

Mattheo eyed her for a few more jiffs before finally nodding. Y/N had a dim impression that something in terms of acrimony flashed across his face for a split moment, but that was quickly gone, and he was already shoving his belongings into the satchel.  

Once they were out in the corridor, Y/N started: “Thank you for your help, you know. That means a lot.” She thought it a good idea to pass over her gratitude by touching his shoulder but boy was she wrong. The reaction was immediate: Mattheo stiffened under her touch and, like a scalded cat, took a stride backward; his breath hitched and even in a dull lighting as it was, she could discern how his pupils dilated; he raked his hand over his hair like he had done before.  

Y/N froze, halting just as he had. Not sure what else to do, because she hadn’t done anything wrong really, she simply waited how this debacle was going to progress; she could have anticipated many things -- him throwing cusses at her, him laughing the entire situation off, even him casting curses at her. What she hadn’t expected, however, was Mattheo suddenly rushing in a different direction than the Common Room and leaving her lingering in the spot, not able to process rapidity of the shebang.  

Maybe she should have felt contrite at the moment, maybe she should have given up, and simply informed her friends that the plan clearly hadn’t worked out, and that Mattheo was a prick, leaving her hanging like some kind of scum in the middle of the corridor. But she would be lying to herself then and poorly attempting to talk herself into believing that she didn’t care.  

Yet she did, that’s why Y/N suddenly felt like the blood was curdling within her. Without administering that the words were spewing out of her mouth, she was already shouting after him:

“What’s your problem?” Mattheo stopped in his track, not turning around nor snorting at her, but simply standing still. He was waiting for her to continue. “Every time we are supposed to hang out with each other, every time I try to initiate the conversation with you, every time I smile and you ignore me, every time... I try so hard to be nice to you, try to act... civil, at least in front of our friends. But you always bring me down.” She didn’t even fathom how she had come up to him, but here she was – standing in front of Mattheo Riddle and cannoning the grudges that she had been keeping for years at him. It felt so... emancipating. “Even that one time when I cooked the brownies for Christmas, especially for you, and later you gave them away to Blaise. You know how humiliated I felt? That I spent time doing something for you, and you... so carelessly dismissed that? And, and... by the way, how much of the psychopath do you have to be as not to like brownies, on Merlin’s Beard!”  

Her voice sounded so reedy in her ears, but she knew that she was just poorly trying to outshout the quiver in her voice or the prickling tears in her eyes. When a tear tumbled down her cheek, not wanting to unveil any accompanying emotions, she angrily wiped it away with a sleeve. Her gaze travelled downwards because she felt more waterworks coming about.  

“I realize that you might hate me bu-”

“I don’t,” interjected Mattheo. For the first time, he shifted in his spot and when Y/N scrutinized his countenance, his lines had a note of desperation in them, earnestness that clearly stressed the truthfulness of his words. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t have to lie, Mattheo, I-”

“I don’t hate you,” he retaliated, sounding stern. And angry, in a way? Y/N must have misheard.    

“Listen, Mattheo, I appreciate you trying to patch things up, but there’s no poin-”

But her sentence spiralled into the distant corners of the corridor, and Y/N piped down as Mattheo took a step closer, curtailing the distance between the two. Y/N cast her face downwards under Mattheo’s intense stare, but his hand travelled to her chin, forcing her to look at him once more. His thumb swiped over her cheek where the tear stain was, and it seemed like he was contemplating her dejection with a sour expression. For a moment, Y/N could swear that the air in her lungs disappeared altogether, and she just kept waiting for his next move, her eyes turned into the deer-in-the-headlights expression.  

With the intent look, he bent over her, Y/N’s nostrils catching the scent of his cologne yet again, and he was leaning over to her ear. One of his hands moved over to her arm, clutching it lightly as if she was the most exquisite dainty porcelain set, and his mouth was just centimetres away from her earlobe. Y/N’s body went entirely rigid.  

“I. Don’t. Hate. You,” he spelled out every syllable of his sentence, gravely, gutturally, slowly.  

Something clicked in Y/N. No longer was she standing there spellbound, but maybe because of his intoxicating scent, maybe because of the intensity with which he had uttered his words, she was tugging him by his collar with both of her hands. She normally, a brief thought crossed her mind, wouldn’t have enough nerve to do something like that, but she kissed him -- her desperate, parched mouth travelled onto his.  

For a moment, she asked herself if maybe she might be out of her mind for doing that or if Mattheo felt the same way she had this morning, or if he had ever considered her as more then... well, whatever they were. She soon found out the answer, however, because his lips momentarily detached themselves from her skin, and he was scanning her face with dilated pupils.  

Instantly, Y/N pulled away and put her hands on the level with her head in the defensive mode like a child who had been caught red-handed while sneaking out the chocolate bars. The air was sucked out of her.  

“I’m so, so sor-”  

“It’s not the way I envisaged that...” His voice sounded positively berserk, feral even. Her hands pending mid-air, Mattheo drew them back to their previous place. In the middle of that maelstrom, Mattheo capitalized Y/N’s confusion by placing his hands on her lower back, flipped her so that now her body was positioned against the wall, moulded against him.  

“And how have you envisaged that, exactly?” she muttered, her voice barely audible. She blinked a couple of times, disorientated, observing as a smirk curved on Mattheo’s lips.  

“Let me show you how...”  

His lips smashed against hers, and Y/N was happy to note that her feelings were requited after all. At first it started off gentle, but that quickly morphed into this voracious battle for dominance. They were devouring into each other's taste (Mattheo’s peppermint toothpaste), and he slid his tongue over her bottom lip, silently soliciting her for deepening the kiss.

She permitted, of course she did, parting her lips ever so widely, deliberating that if she ever were to die, that’s probably the only way she would have accepted the Grim Reaper in her warm, hospitable embrace. Much to her surprise, Mattheo took her by both of her wrists, pinned them above her head while his other hand was caressing the skin underneath her shirt.  

His kisses were so fierce and zealous, Y/N couldn’t help it but feel the sudden yearning to be as close to him as possible; she draped one of her legs around his lower waist, aligning his body with hers as if they were the unity. It felt like they belonged together the whole life, just like yin and yang, and it was so ludicrous that they hadn’t realized that before.  

His tongue flicked over her lips a couple more times, making the want pool around her abdomen, before he finally dipped lower and lower, reaching her neck and planting the sloppy kisses on it. It was as if though he couldn’t get enough of her taste, so ardent in his actions he was, and when he finally discovered the weak spot on her neck, he started sucking on it ever so roughly. Not quite able to quell it, she let out a small moan which apparently must have worked marvels on Mattheo because Y/N could suddenly sense the bulge of erection ramming against her thigh.  

She was torn. From one side, she wanted to do this so badly, the knot in her lower parts specifically betrayed that, but she knew that it would be so wrong and thorny if they elevated that to another level.  

Yet, it was so hard to focus with Mattheo’s lips leeched to her neck, signaturing her skin in the most conspicuous way.  

“Don’t... you think... that we sho...uld talk this over... first?” Y/N rasped out with an evident difficulty.  

“What’s there to talk about?” he muttered in between the kisses, his hand still circling on Y/N’s belly and dangerously nearing to her bra. “I’ve wanted this since forever. And clearly, so did you.”  

Y/N released an amused, hoarse chuckle but that silenced her only for a few seconds before she finally deciphered his words. Particularly, the one resonated in her mind: forever. A paroxysm of joy sprung up in her.  

“So, you felt like that for a long time?”  

Mattheo, apparently cognizing that Y/N wasn’t going to relinquish the topic easily, halted. He withdrew both of his hands, instead placing them on each side of the wall where Y/N was residing. His chest was still moving rapidly, hair rumpled, and pupils almost entirely replacing the irises of his eyes. As Y/N examined him briefly, she thought she must be out of her mind for ceasing their make-out in the first place.  

Too late for reversion, anyways.  

After a few inhales, he finally started: “Well, haven’t you noticed? This entire time, that I-” With a small gloss of hesitation, he looked her in the eyes, assiduously. “I have been crazy about you. For so long. I don’t even remember how it feels to be sane, because whenever I’m around you I just... want to grab you and kiss you senseless.”  

Y/N balked. Things got another notch inexplicable, and Y/N wasn’t sure anymore if she was dreaming and perhaps was stuck in a different universe where cats were the heads of the Ministry, Pansy was Gryffindor, and Mattheo was besotted with her. That would be more possible, from all Y/N could think of.  

“Really?” A blush suffused her cheeks. “I thought you hated me! All those signs – always avoiding me, never talking to me... This didn’t necessarily appear to me as... what you just said.”  

“Listen.” His palm covered hers and he squeezed it lightly a couple of times. “All of that was just a game. I didn’t want to weird you out nor did I know if you reciprocated my feelings. That’s why I tried to... avoid you, if you will.” He stopped for a moment, just staring Y/N, enchanted, as if there was nothing else in the world, both of them captured in slow-motion where nothing else around them mattered. The silence between them was only raptured by their quick breathing and the hammering in their chests. “In truth, the way you... move and talk, it’s all driving me mad. Fuck! I want to be with you, be able to kiss you whenever I desire, want to touch you and be there for you whenever you feel down... Y/N, I want to do so many things with you, and you don’t even know that. But how could you, right?”  

As if pained, he closed his eyes with a microscopic grimace and he licked his lips, as if reminiscing the tastes of her on his skin. With guilt flaring up, Y/N cupped his cheek in her palm and stroked over it again and again. He seemed to be enjoying that as he leaned into her touch, his frayed nerves somewhat tranquilized.  

“You know, I like you too,” Y/N said, and before Mattheo was able to protest as he opened his mouth with the clear intention of doing so, Y/N proceeded: “I really do! It was just that... I was trying to tell myself otherwise because I wasn’t sure of how you would react. And when you waltzed into the Great Hall today, looking like that, I realized that... I’ve been lying to myself. And- and are you mad?”  

He furrowed. “Mad? What for?”  

“For screaming at you earlier.” Y/N pursed her lips.  

Gently smiling, he smooched her lips shortly, and Y/N fleetingly missed the heat of his body on hers. “No, I was a dick.” Another smooch. “Although, I would specifically like to highlight that I didn’t give these cookies away to Blaise. He stole them.”  

With poorly faked disapprobation, she shook her head but soon enough, a grin adorned her features. “That shithead.”  

Mattheo chuckled and he was about to kiss Y/N again when...  

“There you two are, I was looking all over for you two and--” Pansy prowled from around the corner, clearly with annoyance painted on her face but when she discerned the view right in front of her, with Y/N positioned against Mattheo, she smirked. “Well, well... Y/N, I told you to sneak him into the Common Room, not to woo him.” Y/N palm-faced herself but Pansy, not taking on the social hints, continued: “But have it your way, I guess...”

“Pansy, I think we would like to be left alone for now and if you could-”  

“No,” Pansy interposed, folding her arms together. “It’s your birthday party, Mattheo! It was supposed to be a surprise, but someone...” She leered at Y/N with a pointed look. “...clearly can’t control themselves and restrain her animalistic instincts, irrespective of the plan that her other friends set up.”

“In her defence--”  

“And I’m not going to be a shitty friend who forgets about her best friend’s birthday! So, collect yourself a little and schedule bumping uglies on a different time.” With that, the pitter-patter of her stilettos faded away, while both Mattheo and Y/N stood stunned in their spot.  

“That’s not how I planned it,” Y/N explained quickly. “Especially the “bumping uglies” part.”  

Mattheo chuckled with hilarity sparkling in his eyes. “I know.”

“And I’m sorry about your birthday, we were supposed to act like we have forgo-”  

“Doesn’t matter.” Mattheo smiled finally at her, covering her mouth with his. “It’s still the best birthday I have ever had.”  

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