#if i thought i could write her i fucking would.

[parkerloves]

JUST MY TYPE | Rb! Sebastian Vettel x Singer! Reader

MASTERLIST

paring: Redbull! Sebastian Vettel x uninteresed! singer!fem!reader

summary: she had to sing once to entertain the paddock, since then, seb just wants her to himself even though she doesn't seem very willing

fc; gracie abrams+ pinterest girls (but picture her as you like)

warnings: seb is a bit of an egocentric ass but a cute one ig + modern au

ynnews has posted!

liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel and 7,863,863 other

ynnews: our girl has been spotted singing to some drivers and a certain german seemed very interested

tagged: yourusername

yourusername: I loved meeting some of you guys there! <3

user542: it was AMAZING to meet you

user263: PLEASE KEEP GOING TO THE PADDOCK

user762: Sebastian, what are you doing here?

user652: simping over our goddess

jensonbutton: I knew I was right @sebastianvettel you finally have her ig, now shut up

sebastianvettel: fuck you

yourusername has posted!

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 6,462,927 other

yourusername: I never thought I'd like watching cars race in circles but here we are

sebastianvettel: something a bit more blue would definitely fit you better

user653: ... try not to be so obvious sir

jensonbutton: not worthy here

yourbff: OMG red IS your color

yourusername: Ofc I had to or else my dad would literally kill me

user287: OKAY HEAR ME OUT, she'll end up with Redbull paddock passes, I just know

liked by sebastianvettel

user426: let's be delulu together my friend

user287: do you not know Sebastian?

user426: no, but I do know yn

sebastianvettel has posted!

liked by ynnews, jensonbutton and 1,762,652 others

sebastianvettel: great race, great weekend, thanks for everything SPA

tagged: redbull

user287: since you're not tagging her, I'll do it myself @yourusername

jensonbutton: I like your strategy, let me help @yourusername

yourbff: I shouldn't be doing this but... @yourusername

user625: so we all ship them now or what?

yourusername: congrats on the win!

jensonbutton: HE'S BLUSHING AT HIS PHONE, WHAT-

sebastianvettel: YOU SHUT UP

sebastianvettel: @yourusername thanks gorgeous

yourusername has posted!

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 6,276,417 other

yourusername: waking up, writing songs and going back to sleep that's my life now

sebastianvettel: I mean I can help changing that

user543: SEBASTIAN CALM DOWN

user326: did we officially lose him?

user286: over yn? probably

yourbff: new album coming up?

yourusername: 🤫🤫

yourusername has posted a story!

first one: no caption, liked by sebastianvettel and 4,654,862 others

sebastianvettel has replied to your story

is still a lost battle to invite you to another gp since you seem to like redbull?

so now the drink and the car are the same?

we have an unlimited source of drinks

I could think about it then

second one: caption: back again?, liked by sebastianvettel and 4,654,862 others

yourbff has replied to your story

NO WAY HE GOT IT

jesus, don't scream

I never thought of your type like the flirty type

he's not my type

I know, that's why I don't know WHY YOU LIKE HIM

read at 19:54 pm

yourusername has posted!

liked by sebastianvettel, yourbff and 10,754,475

yourusername: he seemed even more excited to see me than to race

tagged: sebastianvettel

user126: GUYS THIS IS NOT A FALSE ALARM, YN HAS POSTED A GUY HERE

yourusername: god, I thought Seb would be the only one screaming because of this

user725: SEB? AW

sebastianvettel: is not my fault you looked almost perfect

yourusername: almost perfect?

sebastianvettel: you could lose the Ferrari jacket

yourusername: and be cold? no thanks xx.

sebastianvettel has posted!

liked by yourusername, ynnews and 2,753,725 others

sebastianvettel: I think we got rid of the jack and the cold problem

tagged: yourusername

yourusername: don't lie to the public, you tricked me into wearing that

sebastianvettel: good thing it suits you

yourusername: everything suits me

sebastianvettel: I mean you're not wrong

yourbff: NOW I'M SHOCK

yourusername: shhh

yourbff: I'm telling your dad about the jacket

yourusername: do it and you're dead :)

use426: I HAD ALWAYS KNOW IT

#sebastian vettel #formula one #formula 1 #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 #jenson button #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you

[rafesslxt]

DOBERMAN | Mattheo Riddle

summary: you and pansy go get some errands with hagrid in a store and on your way you find something really cute you wanna buy. When you come back with it, Mattheo isn‘t that convinced like the rest is.

warnings: cutest dog evaaa, new slytherin mascot hehe, mattheo being a softie and a dog dad, words: 806

notes: writing this in the honor of wanting a second dog, a doberman, even tho I got the most beautiful white Shepard ever

Mattheo honestly didn't knew what to say. This wasn't the first time you came back from shopping with things that surprised him. But this?

In front of him sat his girlfriend with her best friend Pansy and a fucking puppy. Even tho that puppy's head and paws looked so huge it could count as a little but matured dog. "What the hell is this?" he asks, looking down at it, sitting by his girlfriends feet.

"This is our new dog! And Pansy and I already named her!"

By the time half of the Slytherins were now in the common room, all standing and sitting around you and your dog. "What did you name her?" Theodore asks you. "Azula." "Azula?" he asks. "What does that mean?" a little girl asks, sitting on the couch.

"It's a name from a girl that can produce blue flames. She's a fire bender and really powerful." Mattheo sighs and shakes his head. "Does Dumbledore even know about this? And where do you even wanna let her be when we have classes?"

"I already figured everything out with Pansy!" Pansy nods in agreement and continues. "Yeah, we asked Hagrid and he says he would love to watch her whenever we have classes or are outside Hogwarts. Dumbledore said yes because officially it's Y/N's pet now. And well, we all know he likes Y/N so it wasn't really that hard."

"Yeah only Snape was a little unsure but then I told him I would teach her to catch rats and snakes for his potions." you say after smiling brightly at Mattheo.

"Oh come on Mattheo, she will be our little guard and new addition to the gang." you say, batting with your lashes at him.

"I like her!" comes from an Enzo who's laying on his back on the ground, already playing with Azula.

Mattheo rolls his eyes. " I am not going to feed her, walk her or do anything other. This is your responsibility, understood?" he gives in which leads you to jump at him happy. "Yes yes yes I promise! You will love her."

A few months passed by since you got Azula and to say Mattheo and her were enemys - one sided enemys - was an understatement.

She was now fully in her teeny phase which means she would not pee inside but now destroy everything her sharp teeth could reach. And to Mattheo's dismail, it were always his things. His ties, his hoodies, his belts, his shoes - especially his shoes.

He would always scold her for destroying his stuff but you told him every time that she was still learning and is now in her teeny phase. Like puberty. What the fuck does that even mean, was what he thought.

Azula on the other hand loved him. She was very picky about who she would let close to her but no matter how often she got pushed away by Mattheo, she would try again.

So it was when Mattheo came back really tired from his classes after he had studied all night long and got barely any sleep, when he fell down on the couch in the common room.

He slept so deep, that he at first didn't notice the little body that squeezed itself between his chest and arms. When he woke up from his nap, still alone in the common room, he gasps as he saw Azula's face right in front of his with her eyes closed.

That was the moment he fell in love, like hard. He would get her ANY toy he saw while walking through the pet store with you, originally to buy dog shampoo and a new leash.

No food was good enough for her but the one he got, the priciest of course and fresh food from Hagrid. He would barf her most of the time. (Barf is feeding your dog like raw meat, fresh fruits, vegetables and stuff.)

He would walk her every time you didn't have time or were still in class. Often he would let her chase Draco in his ferret form only to laugh at him when he hid on a tree or something different that Azula couldn't reach.

Oh and the pics you would collect of them both were so precious. Them playing together, sleeping together on the couch or when she was allowed in your dorm on your bed.

She also played a lot with the cats in Hogwarts as she grew up with them but she hates Mrs. Norris and always chased her through the castle, making Filch argue with you.

So now here he sat, with the love of his life and you. Joke joke joke. But no for real. He would love her to death and that's when it hit him.

"Y/n? I think I want a baby with you."

I just haaaaad to write this, hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think. 🫶🏻

Taglist: 💗💞💖

@sofa-couch26 @nevereverthem @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @atadoddinnit @Helena-1105 @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgalllery @slytherinscreamqueen @scrumptiouscyclewizard @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ess-perspective @ummmmmmm-username

My Masterlist

xoxo sarah <3

#slytherin boys #slytherin imagine #slytherin smut #harry potter imagine #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 #mattheo riddle smut

[gay-dorito-dust]

You may request A batboys reacting to the death of the reader

First time writing for Tim, so he’s probs ooc in this one.

Dick feels as though he’s failed you.

He tries to act like he was fine but he was far from it and everyone knew it as they stepped on eggshells with him during this time.

Dick would often find himself sat on the very rooftops where he’d take you on countless dates or just to star gaze and talk as though you were still with him.

It was his own way of comforting himself with your loss but that was never enough to stop the tears that fell from his eyes when he spotted a bright star he’s never seen before until now, and laughs humourlessly.

‘I see you’ve finally made your way amongst the stars huh sweetheart?’ He’d say as your star would twinkle in response, making him chuckle. ‘You’re so beautiful, the brightest of your kind.’ He adds sombrely as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he felt his heart sing out for you, only to receive nothing in return.

Reality was often disappointing but with you it was a fairy tale.

Waking up to you was a dream within itself and getting to do mundane things with you before heading off to work was something that could only exist in a daydream.

He knew Hayley misses you as badly as he does with how he’d hear the poor dog whine and whimper at the door, as if waiting for you to walk through it and tackle her with kisses and love like you always did, only to get nothing for hours.

‘I know, I miss them too.’ He says against Hayley’s fur as she whimpers and whines at the door. ‘I miss them so fucking much it hurts.’ He adds as he allows himself to mourn for you alongside his dog long into the night.

Jason blames himself for not being fast enough or strong enough to keep you protected and safe.

The apartment you once shared with him that only recently had started to feel like home to him now felt cold and haunted with the ghost of you, so much so to the point he avoids it at all cost.

Nothing felt right without you, everything felt wrong and unjustified that he became more ruthless then before on patrols just to let off some steam and would come back from them more beaten and bruised then normal.

He didn’t care, he couldn’t feel anything anymore with how numb he became after loosing you.

Dick and Roy would stop by to see how he was doing but each visit was the same with Jason refusing his older brother and best friend entry as he held one of your plushies tightly against his chest. He knows they mean well but he just couldn’t find it within himself to hear the same thing he’s heard from everyone else; It just felt disingenuous after a while and didn’t feel as though people truly understood the impact that you had on him throughout your time together.

Jason would become more destructive with himself and going headfirst into danger without a second thought and damns his teammates for dragging him out by the scruff of his neck as he fights and kicks out of their hold. He doesn’t want to be saved! He just wanted to be with you again, why couldn’t they see that?!

After loosing you Jason becomes more prone to angry outbursts and often lets them out on the wrong person but he couldn’t care less at this point, his favourite person was gone and he was left back where he was before you.

Lost and deeply afraid.

Tim would retreat from everyone and everything by cooping himself into his room, rarely to come out.

He’d rather rot in his bed and on his phone, looking through all the photos you’ve taken together and seeing just how happy you both were, all the while a pit in his stomach grew at the thought of all the plans you’ve made but would never get to do.

He hated how easily he gave you his heart and hated it even more at just how easy it was to loose you that he wishes that he could stop himself from meeting you for the first time, just so he could selfishly save himself from the best moments of his life and the inevitable heartbreak he’d soon suffer.

Tim would do anything in his power to get you back but knew that it just wasn’t possible.

He knew Jason was given life by the Lazarus pit but he wasn’t willing to subject you to that even if he was held at gunpoint. He’d rather you rest in peace than force you to live with the knowledge that you should technically be dead.

Tim would remain in his room, wondering about the what ifs and the what could’ve beens if you hadn’t died. Would someone have taken your place? Was your death an unchangeable fixed point in time that was meant to happen?

He would only be reunited with you in his dreams where he has saved you and you had gotten to live out the rest of your life happily, rather then left for dead in an alleyway not too far from the place where you were originally going to meet up for date night.

Damian dedicated his life to getting revenge.

He had lost the light in his life, so why should he think his adversaries should live when you weren’t even given the option?

There will be more bodies pilling up on the streets of Gotham at a faster rate than normal whenever Damian is on patrol, much to Bruce’s dismay.

His anger and grief was all consuming and that left little to no room for logic to make him stop and see what he was doing was no better than the thing that took you away.

Life was black and white for a long time for Damian and you were the colour.

You were the air he breathed and without you he was gasping.

He knew about the Lazarus pit in his grandfather’s possession and its mythical properties and how it gave Jason a second chance at life. However he was at a cross roads on using it for his own selfish gain, on one hand he could have you back and everything would be fine again, but on the other hand you wouldn’t be the version of you he fell in love with…

Damian didn’t know what to do. The grief, the anger, the sadness…it was all too much for him. He felt as though he apart of him was missing and he would never get it back, it just wasn’t possible.

Bruce feels as though nothing has changed since his parents death.

He may be older, faster, stronger and wiser but that didn’t mean nothing in the face of death, and your death only proved that to be true as he held you in his arms, holding you close to his chest as he quietly sobs into your cold neck.

Much like Tim, Bruce doesn’t take care of himself anymore and it was up to Alfred to make sure that he doesn’t keep over and die unexpectedly.

‘They wouldn’t want this for you sir.’ Alfred would say as Bruce slams his hands down on the surface of his desk. ‘And what would you know that they want for me Alfred, y/n’s dead and it’s my fault.’ He would bark and bare his teeth at the only father figure he had in his life, a father figure whom has seen this expression bore on the young master’s face more times then he could count, but it still hurt him to see Bruce in pain and heartbreak.

‘They would want you to take care of yourself, sleep proper hours, eat full meals, shower, reach out to anyone,’ Alfred began to walk towards Bruce and place a hand on his shoulder, where he could practically feel the unbridled anger and pain radiation through him that he kept under control. ‘They wouldn’t want you to wallow in pain alone, Gotham needs you.’

‘And I needed them.’ Bruce replied sharply, aggressively wiping his eyes with his hand as he looks over at a framed picture of you that he always kept nearby. ‘All I wanted was them.’ He adds softly this time as he looks at Alfred, lost and confused at what to do now that his anchor was gone. ‘I miss them so much Alfred.’

Alfred brings Bruce into his arms, much like he did when he lost his parents, when he lost Jason and now you, allowing him to burrow his face into the Butler’s shoulder and softly sob into the fabric. Alfred felt his heart break even more as he rubbed Bruce’s back in an attempt of bringing him comfort. ‘I know master Bruce, I know, but you’d be doing their memory a great disservice by destroying yourself.’ The older man started as he looked over at the framed picture of you and smiled soberly, you were a beacon to Bruce and Alfred wasn’t afraid to say that he viewed you as his in law with how happy you made Bruce and that was all Alfred could ever want for him.

Now that you were gone, Alfred couldn’t help but feel that the manor got just that little bit lonelier without you.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake imagines #tim drake x you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne imagines

[l4ndonorriz]

LANDO NORRIS PUSSY EATING KING

SMUT 18+, MINORS DNI

notes: sat down to write and then forgot how to type words LMAO anyway this is the first proper thing i posted on her so enjoy it ! 🤍

words: 492

warnings: smut, oral (fem. receiving), slight dacryphillia if you squint, female reader, little bit of hair pulling, hickeys and bruises, cum eating

would drag you down the bed by your hips, spreading your legs so his beard could tickle your inner thighs with kisses and little hickeys

he would take his time to the point of you groaning at his patience, but he’s just getting started

he would either hold your legs up so you were bent in half for him, or allow them to wrap around his head, your thighs squeezing his ears so hard that they rang.

definitely would spit on your cunt, watching his fluids mix with yours as they dripped down your ass cheeks to soak the sheets.

would 100% enjoy sucking your juices up more than you do

he’s moaning into your sensitive folds, the vibrations sending you straight to heaven as your head falls back onto the bed sheets

would suck your clit terribly slowly, delving two long fingers into your drooling hole, fucking them into you at a merciless pace leaving you sobbing for him to let you have some sort of release.

possible thumb in asshole guy

he would think it’s funny when he thrusts his thick thumb inside and you immediately roll your hips into him more, repeating “please Lan” like a prayer

every time you pull on his little curls he would grin against your cunt, nipping at your little bud leaving your eyes rolling back

he’s messy! watching him is the same as watching a lion eat its prey, messy. your slick covering his face, your thighs, your ass, the bed-

or if you’re sat on his face he would hold you down as if he had a death wish, wouldn’t stop when you start crying.

would shove his tongue inside of you and drink you up from the insides out.

every time his nose nudges your clit he laughs smugly at your whines, his voice muffled by your flesh.

ARROGANT LITTLE SHIT HE IS

revels in your cries

only stops sucking and kissing and licking and fucking to mutter dirty little words into your hole

“that’s right baby, keep moaning my name like that”

“good girl, telling the neighbours whose treating you right.”

“whose making you cum? hmm?”

it’s him.

he would so get off on your pussy leaking down his face, he’s nearly coming dry from the mere thought.

would have a grip on your ass hard enough to leave little lando shaped bruises the next day

would hold your hips down and move them, grinding your pussy on his face because he knows damn well you are too weak to do it yourself.

and when you cum he shoves two fingers into your puffy, creamy cunt to scoop out your mess, making such a show of rolling his fingers on his tongue to eat his pretty girl’s cum.

smirks up at you from below you because he knows how good he is that that shit.

“let’s go again?”

your shaking limbs spread in a silent agreement.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #pussy eater #hes a pro #smut #minors dni #formula one smut

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 8

Hey, guys! The plot is plotting and coming along. I've just had a rough week last week and really didn't get too far on any of my works but the omegaverse sequel. So I'm chomping through my backlog (which is a good thing, I promise, that's what it's for).

In this Steve has to deal with the not fun side of the music business, but Eddie is there to soothe the way.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7

****

Steve chewed on his nail as he looked over the contract for the tour they were going to be headlining for Corroded Coffin. It came with their usual anonymity clause.

The part Steve wasn’t sure about was the part where the guys and his roles on the tour to hide that they were part of the band.

Spence being a medic made sense. He was medically trained as an EMT and kept up on his certification even after they made it big.

Simon’s made sense too. Eddie had seen him as a roadie that night, so him continuing that was fine.

It was Shane and Steve’s that concerned him. He didn’t want to PA for The Fallen because then Dustin and his friends would want things like backstage passes and VIP tickets.

Things Steve didn’t want to do because that would get them too close to the action and he worried they would notice that they wouldn’t see Abbadon and him in the same place and put two and two together.

Shane’s role was that of an advance person. Someone that rode into town first to make sure everything was as it supposed to be according to their rider.

Steve loved Shane with all his heart, but he couldn’t think of a worse “job” for him.

Plus it wouldn’t make sense because he wouldn’t be on the same bus as the rest of the band.

He called up Robin.

“Hello!” she chirped her greeting. “What’s up?”

“I’m looking over the contract and they want me to PA and Shane to advance.”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two before Robin said, “I’m on it. I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks, Celeste,” Steve teased.

He was not surprised when she just hung up on him. He chuckled.

His best friend was working on getting Shane and him in the right roles. On their last tour, Shane and Simon had been roadies and Steve had been an assistant like Robin.

Steve looked back at the contract with a sigh. He set it aside and pulled out his notebook. He couldn’t write lyrics or music, but he could write down his thoughts and feelings.

He wrote about the fear of being discovered, of showing his true self. What people would think of him and his friends. Everyone said that metal fans were among the most welcoming in the industry.

Unless you looked like someone they didn’t approve of. Steve couldn’t remember which 1980s rocker it was, but the dude was papped outside a store waiting for his wife in cargo shorts and Birkenstocks and the internet had a fucking field day.

Like how dare he go to the store not dressed all in black and leather and chains everywhere.

It was no doubt the biggest reason no one had cottoned on to him and his friends being The Fallen. Because why would four preppy guys be the members of the hottest rising metal band right now?

He flipped to a different page and began writing about finding love where you left it. Eddie had always had Steve’s heart, ever since they were thrown together when a freak earthquake that was caused by nearby fracking destroyed almost half the town they grew up in.

Eddie ran the local DND club which Dustin and his friends had been a part of.

Steve had managed to keep all of them safe and Eddie, who had been unsure of the former jock had warmed up to him by the time they had come through at the end of the week long ordeal.

Steve had fallen in love with Eddie’s sense of humor, his dimpled smile, and doe brown eyes.

So he wrote about that too.

By the time Robin had called back he had written so much his hand was cramping.

“Hello, hello!” he greeted warmly.

“Hey,” Robin said. “So I talked it over with their lawyers and ours and I think we’ve go the solution.”

“Hit me with it,” Steve said.

“Right so we have Shane assisting with me,” she said. “He doesn’t have anyone really close to him who would ask for favors and shit, or at least not ones he wouldn’t gleefully tell to fuck off.”

Steve sighed in relief. “That’s good.”

“You were a little trickier,” Robin admitted. “But then I remembered you picked up a couple of CPR certifications in the past and got them to make you medic too. You just have to take the refresher courses while we’re in the studio.”

Steve chewed on his thumb. He had wanted to be an EMT before he met Spence and saw how much it took out of him.

“Wouldn’t it look bad if two medics suddenly vanished for two hours every night?”

Robin chuckled. “You’re assigned especially to the band. So you can’t be called during a performance. I do think of these things you know.”

Steve sighed with relief. “I know you do, I just worry.”

“Worry wart,” she teased. “It’ll be fine. You just have to keep it in your pants while on tour because an EMT dating a rockstar is going to be suspicious as hell.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You mean like every other tour we’ve been on?”

“Only this time,” she said, voice dangerously low, “you’ve got temptation in the form of one Eddie Munson, the man you’ve been pining over for literal years.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve groused. “Am I at least allowed to be seen with Eddie you know, considering we are friends?”

Robin sighed dramatically. “I guess. Just try to keep the PDA to a minimum please.”

“I promise.”

This was going to a very long three month tour.

****

Jim Hopper was a former Marine and he looked it. He was built like a tank with a grizzled appearance and cigar tucked between his teeth. Simon thought that he thought Hopper scared the enemy off just glaring at them and Steve privately agreed.

He was there for two reasons. To deprogram their stage persona and to brush Steve up on his emergency medical training.

Actually they all were learning because it was it interesting. Simon and Shane didn’t need to pay attention for certification, but they did anyway.

“How long do you guys plan to be in the studio this week?” Hopper asked. “I need to know if I need to have someone else pick up my daughter from the airport.”

“They want us to have at least eight hours in the studio a day,” Shane explained. “They want us to get as much done as we can before Corroded Coffin goes on tour so they can at least release a single or two.”

Hopper nodded. “Then I should be fine. She’s a fashion designer in New York and the fashion house she works at is sending her out here to intern at their LA branch.”

“That’s awesome!” Shane said. “Maybe while she’s here we can fan her design our costumes for the new tour.”

Hopper shook his head. “As long as it paid. This internship sure ain’t.”

Robin threw her arms in the air. “Fine! I’ll see what the budget is for that and get back to you.”

Hopper chuckled.

“They have you wrapped around their fingers, girly.”

Robin smirked. “Don’t I know it.”

****

That night Steve called Eddie up.

“Hey, baby,” he cooed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie greeted back. “How did today go? It was first day with the deprogramer, right?”

Steve curled up on the sofa and tucked his feet under him. “It was okay. He’s a bit scary, but apparently he has a daughter Dustin’s age.”

“The butthead will be pissed he missed that,” Eddie chuckled.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed warmly. “She’s really pretty, too.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Suzie’s a great girl. But we all know here parents aren’t going to let her marry someone ‘outside the faith’ as it were.”

Steve chewed on his thumbnail. “Yeah. I was hoping with them both going home for the whole summer would break them up.”

Eddie scoffed. “It’s good thing talk and text is included in mobile plans these days unlike in early days of yore when mobile plans made you pay for every text message and long distance calling, otherwise their cell phone bills would be through the fucking roof.”

“Tell me about,” Steve huffed. “And he’s going to spending the last week of vacation in Utah with her.”

“Eeee,” Eddie said with a grimace, “is it bad of me that I hope her parents scare him off?”

“Maybe a little,” Steve admitted. “But I just want him to be happy, you know?”

Eddie let out a long drawn out sigh. “Yeah. So you guys got the contract all figured out?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Steve muttered. “It’s going to be hard being in the studio and taking EMT course to pretend to be medical personnel. Well not really pretending. Both me and one of the other band members have training. Me with being a lifeguard for awhile there and them with being an EMT. But it feels wrong somehow.”

“Is there something else, some other role you can fill?” Eddie asked after a moment or two of silence.

“Not according to Robin,” Steve groused. “She says it’ll be fine and no one will figure it out. And I trust her. Her plans have gotten us through two tours already, one even being overseas...”

“But you’re still worried because I’ll be on the road with you?” Eddie asked gently.

Steve threw his head back and groaned. “God that sounds so horrible of me.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie admonished. “It’s not. It’s an extra variable you didn’t have to factor in before. But we will make it work.”

“I think the biggest part is that Eddie and Steve have to remain friends until after the tour so everyone doesn’t connect Steve with Abbadon,” he said. “God that sounded pretentious. Talking in third person like some Chad.”

Eddie giggled. “Maybe a little, but I got what you mean.”

“Don’t laugh!” Steve whined. “My dick is going to fall off from the sheer amount of blue balling that’s going to be happening on this fucking tour. Well not fucking actually. I’m going to be in hell!”

“And people tell me I’m dramatic,” Eddie said laughing out loud. “What do you normally do on tour?”

Steve sat up and stretched his feet out in front of him on the sofa. “It’s complicated.”

Eddie snorted. “I don’t doubt that, sweetheart. Are we talking NDAs or fucking with the masks on?”

Steve laughed. “It’s more like no phones, dark room, no staying the night. That sort of thing.”

“I’m betting there aren’t many that agree to that.”

“More than you’d think,” Steve snorted. “Groupies gotta fuck.”

“We’ll figure something out. I won’t let those pretty balls go blue,” Eddie said with a snicker.

“Help me, Eddie-wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope!” Steve cried in a sharp falsetto.

Eddie laughed. “You’re a menace, Steve Harrington.”

“And you love it.”

Warmth just flooded Eddie’s tone when he replied, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Eds.”

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach

@val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch

@bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian

@thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners

@thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade

@cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar au

[rougecreator1]

will you write Regina has anxiety

And shifty family as a bonus

Shattered Glass ||

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings: anxiety about weight and appearance, swearing, Ms. George being slightly pushy, mentions of toxic!Cady

|| Summary: Reader watched Regina get ready for school, comforting her when she had to end up wearing jogging pants because nothing else fit.

Requests open!

Started: April 21st

Finished: April 21st

I wrote this in one go 💪

~~~

Everything about her looks had to be perfect. Regina George was supposed to be the embodiment of an angelic figure who walked the Earth. Living amongst mortals. Perfect...

In her eyes, she was glass. Appears solid on the outside, beautiful, perfection. Inside? She was fragile. Like she could shatter at any minute. But she never let any of that show.

Today was no exception.

You were in her room, watching Regina get ready for school as you had stayed the night. You watched with a raised eyebrow as your girlfriend kept throwing clothes out of her closet every so often.

Regina screamed in frustration.

"Why does nothing fit?!" She yelled, your face shifted to concern as you got off the bed and joined her in the closet. Your gaze meeting hers.

You could tell she was panicking, there was a small difference in her eyes that gave it away.

"Baby..." You whispered, taking a step forward and cupping her cheeks with your hands. She leaned into your touch and sighed deeply. Hands resting on your wrists.

"Nothing fits." She whispered, looking into your eyes as one of your hands went down to her waist. Brushing your thumb against it gently as she continued," None of my clothes fit. What the hell am I supposed to wear?"

Her breathing felt quicker than normal. Your eyes widened just slightly when you noticed this. You knew you had to get her to relax first, the clothes could be a later issue.

"Deep breath, focus on me." You whisper back, keeping your voice soft and calm as the hand that was on her waist takes her hand. Holding it close to your chest.

She watched your movement, trying to follow your command. Regina did her best to pace her breathing with yours before looking into your eyes again.

The glass wall of perfection she had worked so hard to keep up had started to shatter. Her mind raced, appearance was everything to her. To the plastics. She shot a nervous glance towards her jogging pants.

It was Thursday.

Regina couldn't wear those.

But what choice did she have?

She knew it would be the only thing that fit her.

Your eyes followed her gaze and you gave her hand a comforting squeeze," G. They're your friends, right? I'm sure they'll understand." You tell her softly. Regina looks back at you, that anxiety lingered in her eyes. Even if she wasn't outwardly showing it.

"You're right. Yeah. Those rules are stupid and made up anyway. They don't actually matter." Regina convinced herself, you nodded in agreement and gave her forehead a soft kiss.

"Want me to leave so you can change?" You asked, Regina raised an eyebrow at that.

Momentarily distracted from her anxiety.

"What?" She replied.

Now you were confused," I just thought maybe-"

"Stay put." Regina cuts you off, not letting you finish your sentence as she makes you sit down on the seat in her closet," It's not anything you haven't fucking seen before."

Okay, she had a fair point.

Your cheeks flushed at her comment as she changed into her outfit. You did as told and stayed put.

Jogging pants and the blue zip up hoodie. She stared at herself in the mirror, you stood and wrapped your arms around her from behind. Arms wrapped comfortably around her waist as you pulled her in close. Thumb gently rubbing her hip in soothing motions.

"Angelic as always, baby." You assure her, kissing her jawline. You feel her relax and that's when you get an idea.

"Can we stop by my house before we go to school?" You asked.

"Yeah, sure. Forget something?" Regina looked back at you.

"Something like that." You nodded, an idea forming in your head.

The two of you hanged out in her room for a bit longer before getting ready to go, wanting to leave earlier than usual so Regina could get to your place with enough time to also go to the school.

As you both walked downstairs, hand in hand. Ms. George walked over and stopped when she saw Regina's clothes.

"Honey, no. It's Thursday." She states with a frown, looking directly at the jogging pants.

You felt Regina tense and gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

"Get off my back, Mom." Regina muttered, walking past Ms. George.

"Regina-" Before she could say anything else, you and Regina had already left and were getting into her jeep.

The drive to your place was silent, you wanted to comfort Regina but you also didn't want to push her further. You knew she reached her limit for the day already and didn't want to make things worse for her.

When she got to yours, you quickly rushed out and to your room. Doing a quick change of clothes, matching (sort of) with Regina. You wore a pair of black joggers, a white zip up sweater and to top it all off you did your hair up for the second time that week. Breaking two of the "rules" so Regina didn't feel alone.

Once changed and ready, you quickly ran back out to Regina's jeep. She took one look at you and a smile tugged at her lips.

"That's what you wanted to do?" She looks at you, her gaze shifting to the clothes you wore before coming back to your eyes.

You nodded and smiled," They won't kick both of us out, right?"

Regina nodded and relaxed more, you got into the jeep and she gave you a deep kiss to show she was grateful for what you did.

Oh, and they did kick both of you from the table. Fucking Cady.

#x reader #fem reader #canon x reader #fanfic #wlw fiction #mean girls #mean girls x reader #regina george #regina george x fem!reader

[slutt4ellie]

Fated hearts starts with fire

(Will most likely have more then one part!!)

Ellie Williams x Reader

Moving to a new city is tough, but it’s even harder when your roommate is a dick.

Summery: You moved out of your childhood town to peruse writing in NYC. While apartment searching you ended up finding a place 10 minutes off your campus, the one down side is you had to share it with a complete stranger.

Warnings -> Ellie’s just a complete dick, for good reasons! (sorta) / Alcohol usage / Mean!Ellie / Mean!Reader (sorta idk!) / I explained the clothes the reader is wearing twice but it doesn’t describe the reader being masc or fem! / WILL BE A SLOW BURN! / (Eventual smut ) / mention of previous relationships / toxic relationships /(Lmk if I missed anything else!)

WC: 4k!!

(Not Proofread!!)

DAILY CLICK 🇵🇸

You were beyond fucking nervous. 

You grew up in a small town since childhood and you’re currently standing outside your apartment in one of the biggest cities in America. New York City. 

Your parents thought you were “foolish” for chasing an imaginary dream which was writing. They constantly let you know that too, telling you most authors and writers go unnoticed by people with a greater talent and following.

Regardless it didn’t stop you from applying to a university in New York, and once you got in, you assumed it was a sign to pack up and leave the small city you called home for 18 years. 

Getting into one of your dream schools, packing up and leaving your parents, that was a few weeks ago and now you’re standing outside your two bedroom apartment. That’s right, two bedroom fucking aparment, it definitely wasn’t your ideal choice but when you saw an ad posted for a shared apartment for about 1.5k a month, you couldn’t exactly pass. 

Rent was already fucking expessive and now that you live in New York finding a place to live for under 3k well that was nearly impossible. So you quickly passed on the opportunity and decided you needed to step out for once and meet a new person, that being your roommate. 

You didn’t really know much about them other than the fact she was a girl, I mean you exchanged a few messages but to be honest she was dry, she only wanted a roommate because she couldn’t afford the apartment on her own and the person that previously lived with her had to move back to their hometown.

The fact she was a girl actually shared some comfort, I mean if it was a guy you would have been fine but trying to find something to relate on probably would have eventually killed you. 

So here you are, standing outside your new apartment with a key that the receptionist gave you, after you explained you were a new tenant that was moving. You weren’t a huge “people person", you had a few friends in high school which you still talk to often but other than that you were a homebody. You decided to nervously knock before entering the apartment which on the contrary seemed stupid since it was now also your apartment but it almost seemed respectful.

A voice followed the knock “Yeah it’s open you can come in!” That was your cue to open the door and your eyes were quickly met with peircing green ones. The girl had auburn haired with freckles that trailed her face, and a tiny scar on her eyebrow. “Who are you?” The girl said harshly looking you up and down which genuinely made you uncomfortable, but it’s not something you decide to mention. “I-I’m your roommate we talked. I’m-” You nervously held out your hand to shake which led the auburn haired girl to shake her head “I don’t have to know your name, we’re roommates, not friends.” Harsh, is all you could think. You just uncomfortably nod your head and let out a slight “Right.”

She just looks at the few boxes you had on the transport trolley and focuses her attention back on the tv as she plops back down on the couch. “Your room is down the hall on the left. Just put your shit there.” She sighs. 

I mean she's not the nicest person you’ve ever met but as of now you're sorta intruding on her space so you’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt and say that’s why she seems to be on edge with your presence..!

It took you only a few hours to get your room setup. Since you moved pretty from your hometown you didn’t have the luxury of taking big things. Like your bed, mattress, shit like that. So you had a room, but the normal committees that come with a bedroom unfortunately didn’t apply. 

You also knew you had to get food considering you had nothing, you just took an assumption that the auburn hair girl wasn’t going to be suddenly sharing and giving you a helping hand allowing you to take something to eat. 

You got dressed throwing on a jacket and jeans to accommodate for the coldish weather that was taking place in NYC right now. But as you leave your room and walk down the hallway you notice the girl now has a friend sitting beside her on the couch. The person who you’re assuming is her friend has long brunette hair, brown doe eyes, and a nice smile. “Ellie just come onnnnn! Come to the party, forget about Cat and actually go out!” Okay so the auburn haired girl's name is Ellie, looks like her mysterious persona is now gone. You thought to yourself. 

And you must have been staring for to long because Ellies green eyes now meet yours and your face flushes red as she speaks “Can I fucking help you?” As Ellie finishes her sentence the brunette nudges her hard muttering something along the lines of “You don’t always have to be a dick!”

Now that you feel your self respect has gone since you were caught staring like a deer in headlights, you just shake your head fast, and incredibly embarrassed. This ultimately leads you to leave the apartment fast just as fast as you entered and go to the closest grocery store you could possibly find..

That whole interaction had to be at least an hour or so ago because when you entered the apartment both hands cuffing grocery bags it was completely empty, the fact that Ellie and the brunette were talking about some party had you come to the conscience that they most likely went to it, which to be fair you weren’t exactly complaining. You’re almost sure Ellie hates you anyway so the fact you didn’t have to deal with her almost felt like a breath of fresh air. 

After putting away the groceries you sat down on the couch and pulled out your phone. There were a few messages from your parents and your very few high school friends reaching out to see how the move went.

Mommmmmm ❤️ 

(5:30pm) - “Hey hun, checking to see how the move went! You’re officially a city girl 😎”

You

(7:32pm) - “So far so good! Settling in well!”

Mommmmmm ❤️

(7:33pm) - “How's ur roomy? Must be strange living with someone who's not me and dad. 😂”

You

(7:35pm) - “Definitely weird, but she's nice! I’m gonna make dinner love u mom ❤️”

Mommmmmm ❤️

(7:35pm) - “Love you honey! Get something in your stomach. 😘”

You knew lying to your mom was sorta shitty but if you told your mom “Yeah my roommate is kinda a dick. She wouldn’t drop it trying to convince you that you 100% would need a new apartment and you’ve already accepted that 1.5k a month is the cheapest you’re ever going to find. So lying seemed like a smooth approach to the situation. 

Dad  

(7:45pm) - Your mother let me know everything's going well with the move. Good to hear.

You

(7:47pm) - Yep! Thanks dad. 

(Read)

That was usually you the most you got from your dad, he wasn’t very “Lovey dovey” as your mom would say which you tried not to blame him, your relationship wasn’t too toxic other then the writing thing. 

One thing you have been doing is texting your friends all day letting the know about the roommate situation and everything that’s been going on. 

You 

(5:20pm)- I don't wanna move in, I don't wanna move in, I don't wanna move in, I don't wanna move in

Jess 🤗

(6:30pm) - Youll be fineeee!

Alex 🙊

(6:33pm) - yeah youll be fine! 

You

(6:34pm) - Guys actually help

(6:35pm) - Come to nyc

(6:35pm) - Come to nyc

(6:35pm) - SHE'S MEANN. 

Jess 🤗

(7:00pm) - WHO?

You

(7:10pm) - MY ROOMMATE

Alex 🙊

(7:33pm) - tf is happening? 😭

 You

(8:00pm) - fuck so when I first moved in she told me we dont have to fucking know each others names because were “Roomates and not friends” 

(8:01pm) - then I was gna go buy groceries and i accidentally stared and she she asked me if I fucking needed something

Alex 🙊

(8:33pm) - HUH? 

Jess 🤗

(8:40pm) - WHAT DID U DO?

 You

(8:44pm) - NOTHING. 

Jess 🤗

(8:40pm) - praying for u! 😁

Alex 🙊

(8:44pm) - same here girl

That was the last message you and your friends exchanged. They tried to calm you down a bit but you never had someone dislike you. You weren’t at all popular in school so you often went unnoticed which was FINE. But actually having someone dislike you and be open about the fact they actually don't enjoy your company was sorta humbling in a way?

You didn’t wanna force Ellie to like you but you didn’t understand why she already deemed that you were annoying or something.The thing you kept on going back to was the fact it was manly her space weather or not you liked it, it was almost like you were intruding and I guess if she felt that way you couldn’t blame her. 

It only took around 12 until your heard stumbling outside your apartment. It was a few seconds after when the front door opened and a man and woman let themselves in without knocking. You would have probably freaked out but the girl was the same one that was sitting on the couch with Ellie and she gave you a quick smile. “Hi” She has a very drunk Ellie on her shoulder which she quickly lets her down on the couch and picks her words back up looking straight at you “I’m Dina, this is Jesse, we're friends of Ellie.” She smiles and nudges Jesse which leads him to shake your hand softly. You followed up by telling them your name with a smile before you looked at Ellies limpish body on the couch. 

“Is she okay?” You looked at her, Ellie seemed way less hostile while she was sleeping which was refreshing. Dina almost instantly nods looking at you. “Oh yeah, she's just- she went a bit overboard tonight!” Jesse sorta chuckles “Cat situation clearly got her worked up” Your mind couldn’t help but wonder, did she fucking lose her cat or something, is that why shes so unreasonably moody. I mean it would make sense? 

You just nod looking at the pair, I mean you didn’t know what the fuck to say and this led Dina awkwardly make split eyecontact with you which followed by looking back at Jesse. “Well! We should get going It’s late and all and we got morning classes”

“Fuck tell me about it” You chuckle looking at them before talking “It was nice to meet you guys.” You smile nodding looking at them and Dina and Jesse both smile giving you a nice “Yeah you too” 

You went into your bedless room laying down a blanket against the cold wooden floor and layed a pillow right above that. Your mind wandered that night, you tried not to pay much attention to your roommate or what her friends said but you didn’t have much else to think about. Class started tomorrow and as much as you loved writing you had an undoubting feeling your professors were not going to pass up the chance to give you some insanely long ass writing assignment. So thinking about what Ellie's friends said was unfortunately on your mind.

When Jesse said “The cat situation” it had your mind go straight to the fact she probably lost her pet cat or something. But the more you thought about it, that seemed a tad bit far-fetched considering the conversion Dina was having with Ellie as they were talking on the couch “Ellie just come onnnnn! Come to the party, forget about Cat and actually go out!” you just took the benefit of the doubt and wanted to say that most people would probably say “Forget about the cat” while referring to the pet cat! I mean unless Dinas grammar is just really ass. Cat is most likely a person. 

You quickly shake your head mumbling out a quick “This is stupid” it was 1am, and you're thinking about whether your roommates' friends were talking about a real cat or a person. Fuck you need to make some friends here, because if this is how you’re going to be spending your nights it’s going to get rough quick!

The morning was groggy as your alarm woke you up. You had classes that you needed to go to and you refused to let yourself be late to the first day. You got up throwing on a pair of pants and a sweater that will make sure you’re not freezing your ass off during the day. You left your room and just to your fucking luck Ellie’s leaving her room at the exact same time leaving the both of you with weird ass awkward eye contact. You assumed she must have gotten off the couch some time throughout the night considering she's now in her bedroom. Since you were both staring for about 10 seconds Ellie finally talks. “I heard if you take a picture it will last longer?” 

You tried to shrug off the comment but each time she spoke it was like nothing nice was going to come out of her mouth. You just turned on your heel shifting your gaze from hers, going down the hallway trying your best to not give her a reaction. It was better to be the bigger person consider it feels like your literal fucking roomates with a 13 year old boy. 

“You look shitty?” She says with a slight chuckle. Well that one did hurt. Manly because you spent time this morning making sure you looked presentable for the people you were going to face in class. You didn’t understand why she said it, but whether or not it was supposed to come out as a joke it hurt. “Did I do something or are you just like this with literally everyone.” You say avoiding her gaze. 

“Like?” She says, and this is now the longest you two have had a reciprocating conversation and it’s literally just insults. “Just a fucking prick” You say grabbing your bag and a protein bar. Luckily for you this time she didn't respond, her eyebrows slightly furrowed at your comment and you can tell it definitely struck a nerve. She just leaves the kitchen island and sits on the couch. And that was your invitation to also leave. You couldn’t be bothered to pursue this conversation any longer so you left and caught a taxi to your University. 

(Ellies Pov)

Yesterday

“I don’t wanna go to a fucking party man” Ellie groans looking at Dina as she continues to beg. “Ellie just come onnnnn! Come to the party, forget about Cat and actually go out!” Ellie catches your gaze and talks directly at you “Can I fucking help you?” Ellie says getting followed up with a hard nudge from Dina “You don’t always need to be a dick!” Ellie watches as you trip over your feet stumbling out of the apartment with a red face, clearly embarrassed. “What’s your issue?” Dina says, turning Ellies concentration straight back on her. “Nothing!” Ellie says, trying to defend her shitty behaviour. “You realize you dont always have to be fucking passive” Dina says looking at Ellie, as Ellies desperately trying avoid it. “I'm not being passive?!” Dina scoffs and puts on a deep voice trying to mock her “Can I fucking help you?” Dina says, looking at Ellie. “Literally coming from the same girl who sleeps with a dinosaur stuffed animal” Dina laughs, causing Ellie to defensively shake her head. “What the fuck! No I don't!” Dina nods and talks again “Ellie just come to the party she won’t even be there!” 

“Cat suddenly doesn’t come to parties?” Ellie shakes her head looking at Dina. “She won't be at this one! Just pleaseeee!!! School is gonna start then you’re going to complain because you missed this party.” Ellie cracks out a little smile and finally nod “Fuck okay okay! 

That led Ellie to the point she is now, in a taxi with Dina and Jesse. “It’s gonna be funn!” Dina smiles reassuring Ellie, which clearly doesn’t work because Ellies shakes her head “I think we got different meanings of fun Dina.” Dina shakes her and looks at Jesse and nudges him “Jesse you convince her. “Dude just put on a smile and once we get some shots in you it will be fine. We’re gonna have fun!” Ellie just smiles at the pair and nods. “Alrightttt!” They both smile at Ellie finally cracking a smile. “Yess!” Dina says. 

The night was smooth sailing for most of the time, when Ellie got some shots in her the tenseness of the night sorta just faded and it allowed her to actually enjoy the night. Ellie even flirted with a couple girls which was rare. I mean it didn’t lead anywhere because she 100% wasn’t ready for that, but it was nice. Especially after Cat. 

And just as Ellie thought the night was going well and she was talking to a girl there was a light tap on the shoulder and she was met with the same brown eyes that she spent about a year and a half with. 

Fucking cat.  

“Hey sun..” Cat says. And Ellie couldn’t help but cringe at the words. Sun, that’s what Cat always called Ellie when they were dating, and now that they 100% weren’t dating, it sorta just felt like a fresh wound. Ellie is a bit drunk (Really drunk) but she quickly spits out some words “Don’t call me that Cat.” Cat almost seems dumbfounded at Ellies words, like she couldn’t process the fact Ellie didn’t wanna get called some corny fucking pet name. 

“Okay..sorry. It’s like I always used to call you that?-” Cat says looking at Ellie trying to meet her green eyes but Ellie refuses to make eye contact. “Yeah, fucking used to. Just fu-” Dina quickly jumps in noticing Ellies hands are clenched and that nothing well is going to resolve from this conversation. “Hey Els go get some air with Jesse!” Dina quickly suggest signalling jesse over with a tilt of her head which causes him to walk over “Go take Ellie outside real quick please” He just smiles and nods, taking Ellie by the shoulder as she stumbles over her feet.

“Cat stop trying to talk to her. It’s still fresh and you’re acting like you breaking up with her was some game, okay you two are over and you made that decision.” Dina says sternly once Ellie and Jesse are outside. And Cat shakes her head fast. “I-I’m not even acting like it was some game?” Cat says getting defensive “I said we should take a break!” Cat says looking at Dina. “Then you fucking kissed a girl infront of her!” Dina says now also getting annoyed. The fact Cat wasn’t cluing into the fact she hurt Ellie was getting old. “Leave Ellie the fuck alone Cat” Dina says leaving the house to go meet up with Jesse and Ellie. 

“Is she okay?” Dina asks, looking at Ellie as she leans her head on his shoulder. Jesse looks at Dina and shrugs. “Other than the fact she just threw up 3 times I think she's okay!” He chuckles sarcastically. “Deal with Cat?” He asks as him and Dina now hold Ellie up. “Fuck shes unsufferable, but yeah, I think she got the message this time.”

This is what leads Dina and Jesse to drag and Ellie back to her shared apartment with you. They quickly open the door without knocking and Dina instantly notices your slightly panicked face “Hi” Dina says with a very drunk Ellie on her shoulder, Dina lets down Ellie lightly on the couch and Ellies body falls limp.

This is when Dina clues in you two haven’t properly met. “I’m Dina, this is Jesse, we're friends of Ellie.” Dina smiles and nudges Jesse which leads him to shake your hand softly. Dina and Jesse quickly learned your name as you followed up by telling them with a smile before you decide to talk again.. “Is she okay?”

Dina heard how your voice was soft. She wanted to give you props for even caring considering what Ellie said earlier to you  “Oh yeah, she's just- she went a bit overboard tonight!” Jesse sorta chuckles “Cat situation clearly got her worked up” They both noticed how your eyebrows furrowed clearly thinking about something but they didn’t think it was important to mention.

Dina breaks the awkward ass silence saying “Well! We should get going It’s late and all and we got morning classes”

You nodded to her words and said “Fuck tell me about it” You smiled looking at them before talking “It was nice to meet you guys.” You smile nodding looking at them and Dina and Jesse both smile giving you a nice “Yeah you too” 

Ellie’s night was shit, she woke up on the couch around 4am and noticed Dina and Jesse were nowhere to be seen. Since she woke up at 4am she did make it back into her bedroom but regardless the next morning her hangover was horrible. As she leaves her room she notices you walk out at the exact same fucking time. Great! It was followed by an awkward stare. Ellie noticed you must have gotten up early because you were put together but she would say that. Considering her night was shitty and you both were looking at each other like a deer lost in headlights she comes up with the bright idea to say “I heard if you take a picture it will last longer?” I mean it was harsh but it was easy!

You turned on your heel without giving Ellie a reaction which left her puzzled. I mean she didn’t do it for a reaction but the fact you didn’t give her one was weird. She sees you walk to the kitchen island and grab your bag. Again Ellie’s mouth thought way faster than her thoughts. “You look shitty?” She says it with a slight chuckle. I mean she didn’t mean it but now she was curious if you would break. 

And this time you did. Your eyebrows furrowed and she saw how her words actually affected you. Your eyes just looked more sad when she said those words. “Did I do something or are you just like this with literally everyone.” Ellie quickly picks up on how you’re avoiding her gaze, which works in her favor because if you did end up making eye contact with her you would see how her eyes faltered for a split second showing an ounce of sympathy.  

“Like?” Ellie says trying to keep up this shitty tough persona which really makes her come off as “Just a fucking prick” It’s like you finished what she was thinking and she didn’t like it. Because it’s one thing to act like one but now that it was brought to her attention it was like something she just really didn’t want to hear. 

This leads Ellie to get embarrassed on the fact you actually did call her out, she quickly turns her head facing away from you which was on purpose and she sat down on the couch which faces the tv. She hears your footsteps getting closer to the door and way more distance. Then there's a final slam of the door. You’re gone now.

Ellie’s not even looking at the tv, just straight ahead, because not only does she have a new roommate. But you fully were willing to actually call her out without a second thought.

Which Ellie doesn't like. 

Part 2

A/N -> HI! I feel like I have to apologize for literally leaving for like a month but I have had almost 0 motivation to write.

School has me really busy so it’s sorta just consuming all my free time. I also realized in my first fic I rushed to get the parts out which made the whole process of making them less enjoyable!

That being said for this one i’m not going to force myself to write I’m going to do it on my accord! (but that doesn’t mean each part is gonna take like a month btw!)

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this because I did enjoy making/ coming up with the plot. And I promise in future chapters it will get more interesting 😭 (let’s also not talk about how the reader didn’t know ellie’s name till they moved in, which I know is unrealistic asf!)

This is really just to start it off making sure the plot is understandable. 🫶🏽

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #lgbtq #the last of us #the last of us two #ellie x y/n #mean ellie #ellie smut #cute #wlw post #wlw #lesbian #gay #slutt4ellie #like #thelastofus #elliewilliams #loser!ellie #ellie x you #wlw love #queer

[exhaslo]

Firstly I would like to say that I love your writing.When you can, I would like to know if it would be possible for you to write a story where Y/n works at the Spider Society and Miguel O'Hara is jealous of her with other spiders and decides to declare himself to y/n, who responds by kissing him and this ends in 🔥🔥🔥

Thank you!!! It means a lot when people like my writing!!!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, jealously, almost caught

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were a vast amount of different variants of Peter Parker within the Spider Society. Amongst the variants were a few Mary Janes, a few Gwen Stacys and even a few others. At least 95% of Spider People were related to Peter.

But, there was that 5%.

Including you.

You were not a variant of Peter Parker, nor someone who was related to him in any way. You were one of the few special cases, much like your leader, Miguel O'Hara. You were a unique case and a very unique Spider-Woman.

Miguel had his eyes on you since the moment he recruited you. Call it a spark, but Miguel felt an urge to have you by his side. You were talented, so it was quick work to have you within his inner circle for the tough missions.

Now, Miguel would never call himself possessive. Nor would he call himself a jealous man. He just liked having what was his close. Nor did he like it when others would get near was belonged to him.

Now, approaching you on the matter was difficult. Miguel couldn't just outright tell you that you weren't allowed to talk to any of the Spider people. He couldn't tell you that you should only be talking and hanging out with him.

That would make Miguel look bad.

Miguel would just have to watch you from the sidelines, growing weary and frustrated with every passing second. How Miguel wished he could pin you against the wall and ravish your every being. Whisper about how every part of you belonged to him.

Watch you whimper and cry his name as his cock buried so deep in you that you saw stars. Just the thought of you squeezing him, holding him and giving yourself to him brought Miguel to ruin. How Miguel wished to see your fucked out expression.

These thoughts plagued Miguel. Each passing day grew worse. Miguel's hand could only do so much. Every day you came to the Spider Society drove Miguel mad.

He needed you.

He wanted you.

Hovering over his desk, Miguel groaned and grunted as he watched you over the cameras. You were smiling brightly as you spoke with Peter variants. That smile should be for him. Unable to hold himself back, Miguel called for you via watch.

----------

You were having a great time. Your life back home was running smoothly for once and you had plenty of like-minded friends in the Spider Society. You were enjoying yourself.

Plus, you had a huge crush on Miguel O'Hara.

The leader of the Spider Society was on another level. Miguel was tall, fit and hella handsome. The amount of nights you dreamed of him hovering over your body, pounding you endlessly was getting a little out of hand.

Snapping out of those lewd thoughts, you refocused on what one of the Peter's was saying. Your cheeks were turning red as Peter mentioned your watch going off.

"(Y/N), come to my office." Miguel said hastily.

"Ohhhhhh, someone's in trouble." The Peter's all cooed, snickering to themsevles.

"Am not! Maybe....there is a special mission?" You muttered.

Your heart was racing a mile a minute. What could Miguel need from you? Lyla was normally the one who would send you on missions per Miguel. So to be request by him personally, oh you were going to have good dreams tonight.

Approaching Miguel's office, you tried to compose yourself. Your thoughts were raging and your panties were damp. Taking deep breathes, you entered his office and searched for your tall, handsome leader.

"Miguel? Hello?" You called out.

"(Y/N)," Miguel appeared behind you, his rasp voice against your ear. You shuddered,

"M-Miguel, hey! I got your message-" Your eyes widen as Miguel's hand stroked your cheek,

"Are the Peter's more entertaining than me?"

"Huh?"

You were caught off guard by Miguel's question. Honestly, you were drawn to the look he was giving you. It felt lustful. The warmth of his hand comforting you in ways you could have only dreamed.

"Do you like hanging out with everyone else? What seems to be the problem with me? Am I not good enough?" Miguel's tone was getting a little harsh.

"No, that's not it. I, uh-"

"(Y/N)," Miguel's thumb started to stroke your cheek more, "Why won't you give me the same smile? Those Peters don't love you the same way I do."

You felt your jaw drop slightly. Was Miguel really confessing to you this way? In a small jealous fit? This was super cute. As Miguel gave you his intense stare, you decided to be brave.

Using his shoulders for support, you used Miguel as a ladder to reach his lips, kissing him.

The sweet kiss didn't last long. Miguel's hands gripped your waist as he licked your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You gasped slightly, shivering at his forceful attack. His tongue ravishing your mouth, leaving nothing untouched.

"Mhm, Miguel," You muttered between kisses.

"Hm? Do you want me to stop?" Miguel asked. You held his hands, taking the moment to catch your breathe,

"No, but...I just wanted to say," You pouted as Miguel brought you in for another desperate kiss, "Mhm, I....love....you."

"Ah, music to my ears."

Miguel had you pinned against the wall, his kisses moving down to your neck. His large hands stroking the sides of your body as you started to tremble from his touch. You gasped softly as his hands cupped your breasts, giving them a squeeze.

"You're mine, (Y/N). I want you only to come to me, understood?"

"Mhm, yes sir," You whimpered.

Honestly, you found jealous Miguel really hot. His kisses trailed down your neck, sucking and biting until you whined. His hands roamed your body as if trying to find a way to take off your suit. Unable to handle the anticipation, you decided to help him.

Miguel whispered thanks repeatedly as he watched your suit come undone. His hands grabbed your waist, lifting you up so that your clothed cunt met his growing erection. Grunts were exchanged as Miguel grinded against you while his lips met yours again.

"Only I can touch you like this," Miguel whispered, his words growing sweeter yet more possessive by the second.

"Mhm~ Only you." You cooed. Miguel groaned as he made his suit disappear around his hands, trailing them towards your clit,

"Already so wet. How long have you've been wanting this?"

"I-I'll tell only if you do," You huffed, feeling your growing embarrassment.

Miguel only grunted in response before flicking your sensitive bud. You let out a sharp gasp, holding onto Miguel as he toyed with your clit. Soft moans escaped your lips as jolts of pleasure coursed throughout your body.

"You sound so sweet. How long again?" Miguel questioned against your ear.

"Ah~ Mhm~ M-Months~"

"Hm, months. So I have months of making up then," Miguel chuckled lowly as he nibbled against your ear, "Months that can be redeemed easily."

"Ah~" You gasped as Miguel's fingers entered your soaked cunt.

You held onto Miguel, riding against his hand as pleasure took over you mind. His thick fingers making a mess of your pussy easily. The tight burning knot within you was about to burst with each curl of his fingers.

Biting your lower lip, you arched your chest against his. Your body shaking from pleasure as you felt your high approaching. Miguel must have noticed since his fingers started to work faster. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you cried out a loud moan.

"Ah~ Miguel!"

"Thaaaat's right. Only I can do this," Miguel hummed as you cam against his fingers, "That's my girl."

You panted heavily as Miguel licked his fingers. His hips lifting yours slightly as he started to reveal his massive cock. You could only whimper, ready to be devoured by Miguel.

"Miguel, are you in here?" Peter B. Parker called out.

"Aye, fucking timing." Miguel hissed lowly, "Fix yourself up, I'll deal with him first."

"Mhpm!" You pouted angrily, grabbing Miguel's wrist, "Don't keep me waiting. You said you had months of making up to do." You said with a whine.

Miguel's smirk widen as he kissed you hungrily. His talons ripping your suit slightly,

"I do. And I have to make up for this," He chuckled, tearing your suit some more, "Go hide while I deal with him."

"My suit!!" You cried before running off.

Miguel just watched you, his smile never fading. Hiding his erection, Miguel hurried to deal with Peter.

He couldn't keep you waiting after all.

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I hope you enjoyed!!!!

#miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

[maapllee]

All The Stars~ PT.3

BAKUGOU X SECRET ADMIRER PT.3

A/N: I love this part n I love writing for y'all, you guys are so sweet. I know I said this part would come out a few weeks ago, but my kitten contacted parvo virus. I hope you guys understand :<

P.S: I'd like to add that one of the next parts will have slightly suggestive themes, nothing too descriptive.

ALL THE STARS PT.1 | ALL THE STARS PT.2

You groaned, jolting awake from what you thought was a short nap. The sun was blazing, hot on your skin now. Your head and throat throbbed- you were dehydrated and miserable. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you took in your surroundings.

Bakugou shut the door to his dorm so hard the walls shook. His muscular back rested against the wooden door. He closed his eyes, panting. The book in his hands felt like concrete, heavy and cold. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself down. Opening the book, he took in the pages- pages and pages of sketches of himself sitting idly in class. He had to admit, you had some real talent there. He looked so calm, taking notes while resting his chin on his palm.

Meanwhile, you pulled your knees towards yourself, taking a minute to recall the past few hours. Eyes widening, you frantically searched around as you remembered you had set your sketchbook down- it would be no short of a disaster if anyone opened that book. Maybe it wasn't THAT great of an idea to carry said book out of your dorm room. Shit. Bakugou pulled Kirishima into his dorm room, his heart beating in his temples now. "Woah, I didn't think L/N would be the one who was putting those gifts in your locker! I can't say I'm surprised though, you guys are so thoughtful with each other." Kirishima nodded. "Thoughtful with wHO, I can't fuckin stand her. She's so annoying and dumb and stupid, almost stupider than Deku." Bakugou shouted, hands on his cheeks.

"Yeah, totes bro." Kirishima deadpanned, patting Bakugou's back. "So, when're ya asking her out? There are a couple good movies in the theatre or that new cafe down the street... We should ask Denki, he looks like the kinda dude to have this kinda experience", Kirishima rambled on and on, which all went over the blond's head, too busy calming the thumping in his chest, his head steaming.

Shaking his head, Bakugou took a deep breath in. "Fuck that, We have training at Ground Beta in half an hour. We'd better start heading over and warming up." Bakugou said, ushering Kirishima out of his room. Closing the door shut, He put his forehead to the cool wood at the thought of facing you at the Ground- knowing you, you must be having a panic attack at the mere thought of your sketchbook being missing- fuck- now that he thought of it, that was fucking selfish of him to do. He wondered if he could slip it into your dorm room while you were on the ground- he could fake an injury or a fever or something, he'd just have to convince Aizawa Sensei. A tough task in itself.

☾

You stood next to Uraraka at Ground Beta. You shifted your weight from one foot to another as your fingers fiddled with your hair, still anxious over how you couldn't find your sketchbook this morning. Bakugou was stretching with the boys in some distance, taking note of how you couldn't hide how anxious you were. Almost in tears, you thought about the possible scenarios. What if someone had taken your book? What if they'd shown Bakugou? What if they'd leaked it all around UA? Your hero career was as good as over.

Aizawa Sensei walked onto the ground, patting your back as he took notice of how down you were. Aizawa Sensei started reading off the pairings for training. You shook your head, taking in deep breaths while steadying yourself to get your head in the game. UA wasn't for the weak and you weren't going to let something as small as this drag you down- they were just sketches and you could always claim the book wasn't yours, un-named as the book was.

"YN/LN and Bakugou Katsuki, please make your way to the centre of Ground Beta."

You physically flinched as you grimaced at the pairing. Uraraka gave you a small push, urging you to step forward. Aizawa Sensei gave you the side eye, wondering what kind of argument you and Bakugou had again, prompting this kind of reaction from you. Little did he know, huh?

TAGLIST: @lovra974 Thanks so much for keeping up with the series~

#bnha #aizawa shouta #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #shinsou hitoshi #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki #bnha bakugou

[xxshadowbabexx]

requests you say??? 😈

hmm can i ask for some daddy price who has a one night stand with his sergeant before she gets transferred to him?

maybe neither of them know the other person, meaning price doesn’t know she’s his new sergeant and she doesn’t know he’s her new captain. then the next day comes and all is revealed, and she is determined to brush it all under the rug but he’s not letting her go.

idk how it gets to this, but i’m thinking it ends with him getting her in his office and forcing her to cum over and over?

i know you’re not shy to write darker things so maybe dubcon vibes when he’s fucking her again? but she definitely wants it. and then some heavy daddy kink?

all of that ^ is optional at the end of the day though LMAOO it’s just a brain worm i’ve had for a future fic so you can do whatever you want with it <3

ily ily ily pookie

Rules Are Made to Be Broken

warnings: dubcon!!!, smut, vaginal sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), praise, degradation, f!reader, multiple orgasms, language, possessiveness, daddy kink

John, you were pretty sure that was his name. Then again, it didn’t really matter to you as he had you pressed up against your bedroom wall, nipping at your neck. You moaned into his touch, grinding against his thigh as his mouth left crimson blue bruises in its wake. 

He laughed, grabbing your hips and assisting you in grinding along his thigh. “Such a needy slag. So desperate for a mans attention,” you whined in response, nodding. 

“So bloody needy,” he grunted, slipping one hand under your skirt to trace the outline of your pussy through your panties. You knew you were dripping, and you knew he felt it with how he stared at you. He was clearly undressing you with his eyes, licking his lips as he stared at your breasts. 

“I need more, John. Please-“

You checked yourself out in the mirror, wanting to look good once you finally met your new squad. To say you weren’t nervous would be a lie. You knew you would likely do some physical training with your squad today, which normally wouldn’t be a problem. You knew you held up well in combat. Thing was, you were extremely sore from last nights activities, which had lasted well into the morning. So, it was your first day with a nee crew, you were sleep deprived, sore, covered in hickeys and… shit. You were going to he late. 

You threw your head back in a moan, hands digging into John’s scalp as he ate you out vigorously. You were sitting on his shoulders, still pressed against the wall. You could see yourself in the mirror across your room, and fuck did you look good. 

He grunted into your pussy, thick fingers kneading your ass as he lapped at your hole, nose nuzzling your clit. One of his hands sneaked upward towards your lower back, grabbing it and pulling, forcing you to arch. 

He pulled back slightly, gazing at your pussy, eyes showing something dark inside him, “So fucking good. So fucking good for me,” he whispered to himself before diving back in. 

You arrived only three minutes late. Your eyes found who you assumed to be your squad members sitting around a table. You didn’t have time to take any of them in because-

“Three minutes can be life or death in the military, sergeant. If you want to stay with us- stay alive, you’ll have to do better,”

John. You might not have been sure of his name early last night, but he made sure you knew it by the time he left. You weren’t sure if you could ever forget it. 

“Sit,” he commanded, voice going straight to your core. It was the very same tone he commanded you with last night. You shook your head to clear your thoughts before following his instructions. You were at work. You couldn’t be having thoughts like these. Couldn’t be thinking about-

“Suck,” his voice was rough, demanding as the head of his cock prodded at your lips. And who were you to disobey?

You opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the tip and teasing his slit with your tongue before you looked up. You looked deep into his eyes, and sucked. 

You were barely paying attention as John spoke. He was your captain, because of course he was. You did catch a few things he said, something about a ghost- was this base haunted? Someone really liked soap and you think you heard the word “gaz”. You weren’t sure what any of it meant. 

Too busy focusing on how your captains mutton chops had felt between your thighs last night, the heaviness of his cock in your mouth, and how it burned when he finally-

“John-“ you almost screamed. “Fuck! It’s too much, it’s not gonna-“

He cut you off by sticking two of his fingers into your mouth, “Shh, shh, it will fit, doll. You jus’ have to relax for me, you can do that, can’t you? Be a big girl and take it for daddy?”

“-You’re all dismissed,” John’s voice cut through your thoughts. You followed the lead of the other three men and moved to get up, heading for the door. 

But then John said your name. You turned to him, “Yes, Captain?”

“Stay. I have to go over some things with you still,”

Oh no. 

You had barely came down from your third orgasm of the night when John had tossed you onto your bed. You bounces, landing on your stomach. He didn’t give you time to recover before he was pulling your ass back and sliding into your cunt again. 

“Oh fuck daddy I- fuck,” you whined as he instantly resumed his brutal pace. 

“Yeah? Too fucked out to form a proper sentence? Don’t worry doll, daddy’s got you,”

“What do we need to go over?” You asked, willing the heat inside you to dwindle. Something about him being your boss made you want him more, and you wanted him now. 

But no. He’s your boss, and that’s exactly why you can’t. If you slept with him again and people found out, you would be dishonorably discharged. 

“Did you hear me?” Fuck, you zoned out again. 

You shook your head, “No, sir. My apologies,”

“I said, don’t be coy with me. You know exactly what we have to talk about,” he repeated, stepping closer to you and crossing his arms. 

You stepped back, “I really don’t, Captain,”

He grunted, “That’s not what you were calling me last night,”

“Sir?” you questioned. He can’t actually want to talk to you about this. 

“You might be acting like you haven’t a clue what I’m on about, but your marked up neck tells me otherwise, doll,”

Oh god, did he have to call you that?

“Bloody hell, doll. ‘M gonna cum. Gonna cum in this tight fucking cunt of yours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Of course you would. A slag like yourself would be lucky to have me fill then up,”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered uselessly, “it’s unprofessional,”

“Unprofessional my ass. We both know my cock is worth the risk. So are you gonna let me take you again, or are you gonna make this messy?”

“There you go doll. Getting messy all o’er my cock, such a good little tease,”

“We can’t sleep together again, John,” you closed your eyes in frustration. 

He grinned, “Oh but we will,” You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off “-Bend over the table. Legs spread,”

“What?” you gasped, “Sir I can-“

“That’s an order, sergeant,”

You stared at him for what felt like hours before you moved over towards the table. You bent down so you were leaning on your elbows, legs spread wide. Clearly he wasn’t impressed because you heard him tut behind you. 

Then his hands were on your arms, pulling them out from under you. You fell flat onto the table, wincing out in pain and surprise. 

“Sir, what the fu-“ you were cut off by a harsh blow landing on the curve of your ass. 

“Quiet pet. You’re just going to make this harder on yourself,”

“But I-“ another hit. 

“Did you not hear me? Or are slags like you unable to listen to basic orders?”

You didn’t say anything, and he seemed happy with that. He took the palm of his ass and gently rubbed over the sore fat he had struck earlier. 

“Good girl, keep behaving and I’ll make it worthwhile,” he whispered against your ear, and you felt his hands move to unbutton your cargos, pulling them down to your knees. Instantly, he was grinding into you, and you could feel his cock hard and stiff against you. 

You moaned at the feeling. 

“See? Complaining about how we can’t do this, but clearly you want it just as bad as I do. Needy little thing,” he chuckled. 

You whined, “We really shouldn’t,”

He hummed, “I can hear your resolve slipping, sweetheart,”

You shook your head, “But we can’t, John. I’ll get in trouble, I’ll-“

You cut off with a moan as he slipped a finger through your folds. 

“So wet for me. Bloody soaked. If anything I’d say that you liked the risk,”

Fuck, he was right on the money. He doesn’t need to know that. His thumb began to circle your clit, and he pushed a finger into your slick heat. 

“Going to make you cum so hard, doll. You won’t even remember why you resisted,”

“Daddy fuck,” you whined, now laying on your back. John had one arm holding your knees up by your head, the other arm had two fingers slamming into your puffy cunt. Slick covered and overstimulated, practically drooling around him. 

“Yeah babydoll? Going to cum again?”

“Yes! Oh fuck- yes. I’m so close- please daddy,” you wailed, muscles tensing as you came for the nth time that night. You saw stars. You might’ve blacked out a little. When you finally came to, you found John between your thighs again, lips suctioned to your clit. 

“There she is. Got one more in you?”

“Promise?” you whispered. 

He smirked, “Promise what? That I’ll ruin you for anyone else?”

You whimpered out a “yes” and then his fingers started moving in you. Fast, and hard enough to cause your hips to repeatedly smack the table. 

John grabbed your chin, twisting your head to kiss you with a mind numbing passion. He moaned into your mouth as he felt you tighten and gush around him. He was repeatedly hitting that sensitive spot inside you while slowly circling your clit. 

It was heavenly and it was just enough. You pulled back slightly, “‘M so close daddy- please let me cum,”

“Yeah? Does my girl need it?” you nodded, “Go ahead doll. Cum around my fingers, I know you want to,”

He kissed you again to mute your screams as you came. It was dizzying and you almost wept, tears pooling in your waterline as he kept finger-fucking you through bliss. 

“That’s it. So good and pretty for me. My pretty fucking slag. Bet you want my cock now, right? I seem to recall one orgasm not being enough for you last night,”

You and John had been cuddling for about half an hour after your last round. It was nice, but you needed something else. You got up from his chest and moved to straddle his lap, placing your hands on his muscular chest. 

He opened one eye, watching you lazily, “little minx. Go on, take what you want from me,”

You nodded, “Please fuck me,”

“Yeah?” he mocked, “Why should I? Going to behave if I do?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “I’ll be so good for you,”

He smiled, kissing your neck, “I know, I know,” and then his fingers were moving inside you again. 

“You’ll get my cock, darling. You just have to cum around my fingers again first,”

Well he lied, because suddenly you were on your fourth orgasm of the night and his fingers were still the only thing to have been inside you. If you weren’t so fucked out you might’ve had the wherewithal to realize that he liked breaking you like this. Prick. 

But you were too busy pushing his hands away due to the overstimulation to think. 

“Daddy- fuckfuckfuck! It’s too much I can’t,” you sobbed, arching your back as your fifth orgasm overtook you. It ravished your body, ricocheting through you violently til you couldn’t see straight. 

“Well if you want to stop we can, but you won’t be getting my cock then,”

“No!” You should have been embarrassed at how quickly the response left your tongue. “Need your cock, please,”

He kissed your shoulder before pulling his fingers out of you and sticking them in your mouth. You could hear him unbuckling his trousers as you sucked his fingers clean, and you felt a surge of giddiness rush through you. 

John took his fingers out of your mouth, placing them around your throat as you felt his cock prod at your hole. 

“Ready for me?” you nodded. 

All that prep and it still burned as he pushed in to the hilt. He was just so goddamn thick. Maybe you were just overstimulated and fucked out, but you swore his cock was made for you. 

You didn’t realize you had said that last part out loud until John laughed, “Made for you? Darling have you ever considered that maybe this pussy was made for me?” he asked as he started thrusting, making it impossible to form a coherent answer. 

His thrusts were brutal, and he tightened his hand around your throat. “Fuck, this filthy cunt of yours feels so fucking good wrapping around me. It’s my bloody cunt. No one else gets to see it- fuck. No one else gets to feel it around them,” he growled, hips slamming into yours hard enough to bruise. 

You cried, a broken moan leaving your lips. It felt so good, you were so full. He was touching you everywhere you needed him to and fuck-

You whimpered, “Daddy fu-“ thighs tightening and eyes shooting shut as you came again. He growled, dropping your throat to wrap his hands around your wrists and pinning them behind your back. 

You sobbed, it was too much. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, and thanks to your tears you couldn’t see. You were a shaking mess, utterly destroyed. Ruined for anyone but him. 

John growled behind you, picking up pace, “That’s it, doll. Keep clenching ‘round me like that and I’ll be coming in no time dontcha worry,” 

And then the was cumming. 

You squealed as he filled you up. You didn’t think it was possible to get more full, and maybe it wasn’t. Because his cum was oozing out of you, past the base of his cock and dripping down your thighs. There was just so much of it. Thick and pearly white. 

And when he let go of your wrists you scoop up some of his cum and shove it down your throat, you knew it in your soul. 

John Price would be the death of you. 

taglist

@frogtowne @glossysoap

© xxshadowbabexx 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #john price #john #john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #captain john price x reader

[ncroissant]

you can ignore this request but can I ask you to Make a story of Francis mosses and like a housewife reader who has an ignorant husband so when the milkman comes visit she "pays" him very nicely

switch! francis mosses x fem! reader

summary: paying your neighbourly milkman a hefty tip

wc: 2.2k

content warning: nsfw, cheating, double infidelity, masturbation, slight nipple play, soft dom francis energy, slightly subby francis, kind of unrealistic p in v (i was too lazy to write foreplay), creampie, very fluffy

author's note: hii anon, thanks sm for the ask :)) i love this sm and i hope ur okay with some sub married francis teehee >:) this was soooo self-indulgent :O hope u guys enjoy this one !! not proof read, minors please dni!!

your marriage was bland to say the least.

your husband was a busy man, working to provide for you to max out his credit card, but never giving a second of the day. he always blamed his lack of time at home on his job, never taking accountability.

you felt bored. he promised you a life of luxury with no work, but it was boring staying at home all day. weekly visits from cleaners to clean up the apartment gave you absolutely nothing to do at home.

but the longer your husband stayed away, the more time you spent listening in on your neighbors to past the time.

the milkman and his wife were a noisy couple.

you could hear the headboard thunking against the wall, his grunts and her awfully loud moans. he must be so good to her, you thought, feeling your fingers slip down your pj shorts.

you felt yourself passing the time, humping pillows, playing with toys and fucking yourself with your fingers. you could read every book in your apartment, watch tv for god knows how long and still be bored.

but one particular night, you heard a knock on your door.

you perked up, almost skipping to the door in excitement. you haven't had a visitor in ages and it was about time someone kept you some company in this little cage of yours.

"milk delivery." your eyes widened when you fully opened the door, realizing who was in front of you.

the buttons of his uniform were struggling to close, his hands veiny from his grip on the milk box he held in his arms against his stomach. seeing him this late at night was making you think of not so holy thoughts.

"what're you doing here so late? it's almost 9," you peered up at him, unaware of how your breasts nearly spilt out of your lingerie. you were wearing a skimpy little nightgown, forgetful of how you were married and half naked in front of another married man.

he smiled, placing the milk box beside your doorstep. "you're my last stop since we're neighbours. did i disturb you?" he crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.

you felt your heart beating out of your chest, you could feel your fingertips vibrating. "no, not at all..." you bit your lip, feeling your thighs clench tightly.

"i needed some milk for my tea. would you like some as well?" you worked up the courage to ask, looking at him with an expectant look in your eyes. "if you're not tired," you clarified, lifting your hands.

he didn't look like he took much time to think it over, nodding at your suggestion. you didn't wait for a verbal response, ushering him inside, locking the door.

now, here he was, sitting at your kitchen table while you made tea. if only you could see what he could see. the entirety of your back was exposed, a v-cut just above your ass to cover the rest of your lower half.

"chamomile or green tea?" you called out softly, snapping him out of his daze. you looked back at his lack of silence, looking at how flustered he looked for dozing off.

"green tea," he murmured, averting your gaze. he was so comically large, making your kitchen chair look small. his hands were gathered on his lap, his back straight against the backrest, waiting for you to finish making his tea.

you sauntered over to his, leaning your hip against the kitchen table. "n-nice place," he stuttered when he got a closer look of you, trying to break the silence.

you didn't expect him to come in, but now that he was here, you didn't want to waste this perfect opportunity. "mhm...i decorated it myself," you leaned closer, giving him an innocent smile.

"y...you're very good at decorating," he swallowed. his hands were sweating, he felt them grip at his slacks anxiously.

"isn't it so sad that my husband didn't help me decorate at all?" you pouted, puffing out your lower lip. his eyes switched back and forth from your eyes to your lips.

francis mirrored your nod, gulping when he realized how close you were. you placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "you're very cute, francis," you chuckled as you pulled away.

you scurried away to turn off the stove, watching the water spill out of the kettle. when you reached your hand to grab the kettle, you felt a hand reach over yours to pull you back.

"careful, it's hot." he was pressed up against you, his painfully obvious bulge pressed against your ass. maybe it was because the only thing that was preventing your bare skin from touching his was his shirt, or how small you were compared to him, but he was literally shaking.

you spun around, hands now holding onto his sleeves. "help me onto the counter?" you looked up at him, slowly tugging him towards you.

francis was a loyal man. he was dedicated to his wife, to his work and to everything else. but however wrong he wanted to feel about lifting you onto the counter and smashing his lips onto yours, he just couldn't.

"so pretty," he mumbled against your lips, while your hands found themselves tangled in his brunette locks. "you're so pretty," he was almost whining, brows knit from the intensity of the kiss.

your other free hand cupped his cheek, dragging his even closer to deepen the kiss. his kisses felt even better than imagined. lips soft, tongue warm, sloppy.

you were scared that he would hear the way your heart thumping out of your chest. "f-francis," you'd pant, but he'd be too lost in the way your lips felt against yours to focus on anything else.

he'd pull away to just soak in the sight of you, admire the lips of the woman he just ruined. he'd look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, watching the way you'd nuzzle against his hand when he wiped away his spit off your lip.

"are we stopping here?" you frowned with a huff, tugging on the loop of his belt. "or can i tip you, hm? for the delivery?" you pleaded, tilting you head to look cuter.

he fell for it, having no intentions of stopping. "yeah, yeah. tip me or whatever, just don't stopping kissing me," he pressed kisses up your neck trailing up to your cheek.

you wanted to chuckle at his neediness, but you were feeling the same. your arms wrapped around his neck, allowing him to effortlessly lift you into his arms.

while you two made out, he carried you to you and your husband's shared bedroom, laying you down. he toppled over you, knee nestled between your thighs and arms caging you in his hold.

"i wish you could see yourself right now," he pulled away, his hand trailing up to your chest. your nipples were poking through the thin fabric of your night gown, his fingers toying with the neglected nub.

you jolted, biting your lip to hide an embarrassing moan. "d-do i really look that pretty?" you hide a moan with a laugh, throwing your head to the side when he pinched your nipple lightly.

"you're gorgeous," he sighed, rolling his fingers under your gown to lift it off your body. you were more beautiful than he had even imagined, waiting so patiently for him to do something.

before he leaned down to kiss you again, you tugged at his shirt. "take this off? 's embarrassing being the only one naked," you blushed, his eyes widening.

for a married woman, you were surprisingly inexperienced. francis never heard you getting railed by your husband. he could only hear your pretty whimpers when you pleasured yourself with toys, but never finishing.

he could only chuckle, reminiscing your frustrated sighs when you couldn't get yourself to finish. he smirked knowing now he could take matters into his own hands.

"whatever you want, sweetheart," he effortlessly tugged at his bowtie, unbuttoning his shirt. he was so handsome. lean, but not entirely skinny. bulky, but not too much. he was perfect.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to press your lips against his. "you're so handsome, francis," you cooed. he felt his ears flush from your compliment, his knee riding higher up your thigh.

you moaned when you felt it reach your core, feeling yourself grind on it for more friction. "make me feel good, hm?" you flicked his loose hairs out of his face, making him bite his lip.

"want it inside, francie," your fingers trailed down to your pelvis, slightly opening your folds. his felt his dick throb, his eyes unmoving from your cunt.

almost immediately, he felt his dick throbbing against his suddenly too tight slacks. he grunted as he finally unzipped to let his cock free, his dick slapping against your tummy.

you gulped at the size, looking up at him in awe. "j-just the tip," he whined, his cock sliding against your stomach. a part of him still wanted to be somewhat loyal, but you so badly wanted him in you, your fingers wrapping around the head.

"you're so big," you gasped, your eyes were still widened. he could only rub himself against your fingertips, whimpering at the friction. "just the tip, hm?" you grabbed the head, dragging it down to your entrance.

when francis felt the warmth of your cunt against his cock, he was almost 100% sure his loyalty would be thrown out the window. "j-just the, hngh..."

he felt himself thrust into your wet, soppy cunt almost too quickly, completely devoid of reason. he was nestled so deeply into your core, allowing you to adjust to his massive length.

"i-i'm suhh...sorry, i said just the tip, but i...mnghh..." he could barely get a word out, too lost in the feeling of your tight cunt sucking his cock in. "y-you feel so, so good. it's so good, so..."

he was chanting it like a prayer, babbling whatever came to find. "francis, can you move?" you bluntly asked, guiding his hands to your waist.

almost like a switch, he thrusted into you wildly. his cock was reaching parts that you weren't even sure were possible to reach, especially with your husband's tiny, flimsy cock.

"am i making you f-feel good?" he asked, his lips just barely ghosting over yours. you felt his breath brushing against your face, the neediness evident on his face.

you nod, pressing a kiss on his lips. you moaned against his lips, feeling so full of him. "p-please say it. please say i'm making you feel good, ngh," he pleaded, pressing kisses against your neck.

your eyes were nearly rolling back, the entire galaxy filling your line of sight. "you make me feel so good, francis," you squealed when he hit a specific spot in you.

satisfied with your answer, his pace sped up. he was entirely bottomed out in your cunt, his pelvis pressing against yours.

you felt yourself getting close when his thumb trailed down to your pelvis to roll it against your weeping clit.

the squelches from him fucking you were so vulgar, it made you remember the sounds you heard when he fucked his wife. and finally you were living in the dream you so desperately wanted to come true.

"'m so, so close. m-might cum," you groaned, throwing your head back against the mattress.

he shook his head, feeling his hips stutter. "no, no. wait for me please. wanna cum together, hm?" he panted, mouth filled with saliva. he had grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly.

you could feel the coolness of his wedding ring against your fingers, making yourself get closer. you, a married woman, were fucking married man. the dirtiness of it all excited you so much.

here he was, the man you've been masturbating to for weeks, begging you to cum at the same time. "t-together, right?" he begged, his high coming so, so soon.

his thrusts were getting sloppy and your cunt was getting tighter. you nodded, his lips crashing onto yours, kissing you until you came together.

his cum spilled so deeply into your cunt, filling you generously. "you're so beautiful," he sighed, wiping the sweat soaked strands of hair off your forehead.

he just stayed inside of you for a few minutes, admiring you.

he'd tend to you right after. taking a bath with you, drying your hair for you, cooking you a meal. he did all the things you wished your husband would do for you.

and when it was finally time for him to leave, you'd be in bed sleepily, arms wrapped around his torso, head leaned against his chest. "don't leave," you whined.

he didn't want his wife to question why he came home so late, so staying the night was out of the question. "i'll be back again, okay?" he smoothed out your hair, patting your head.

"i'll be back here tomorrow same time with another delivery, hm?" he smiled, hugging you tightly. you were so cute when you were clingy and nearly asleep.

"i'll tip you again," you yawned, feeling your eyelids get heavier with every blink.

he placed you onto the bed, tucking you in well. he looked at you once more, brushing your hair out of your face. "sweet dreams," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you smiled as you drifted off to sleep, knowing he'd be there same time again tomorrow.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #tnmn #tnmn milkman #milkman #that #that's not my neighbour #that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #x reader #ncrescent asks

[lemongizumo]

I didn’t want to make any public posts about what’s been happening in the past days in our fandom because of my health issues. Some of you know, mostly people I consider my friends now, others because I was offering emergency commissions to solve hospital and treatment costs, but my health isn’t that good lately and the level of drama, intensity and everything around this topic was affecting me. Still is a bit. However, after everything that has come out, so many similar experiences, so many people being manipulated, hurt and damaged because of this one individual who I considered my friend, I can’t remain silent anymore. I just can’t. I’m still shocked and feeling so many emotions, from sadness to concern, from disappointment to anger. Even guilty for not realizing how disgusting this person was. It’s unbelievable.

I won’t go into any details, those involved know everything that needs to be known. I will not share screenshots either but there are plenty to prove what this person tried to do until the end and how many people she damaged.

I became her friend months ago, around August/September of last year. I considered her a real friend, a good one even, she was nice to me all the time and talked to me every day for all these months. She bought my friendship with love bombing, gifts, with praise about my art and me, a fucking naïve idiot, thought she was sincere. I never noticed the red flags until it was too late, how she was collecting artists along the way and discarding the ones that weren’t useful. She was after popular people, writers and artists, anyone that could give her status. She wanted her name seen everywhere and she invaded every space she could. She also promoted her server to anybody who had big numbers or was known in the HG fandom.

I didn’t know anybody in the fandom, only some names I followed because I admired their art or writing. I always spent my days in any fandom as a spectator, doing fanart and having casual conversations but not getting close to anybody. She was the first person I let get close to me.

I trusted her and that was a mistake I’ll regret for a long time.

She took advantage of me not knowing anybody, she used me as a dumpster bin to trash talk about others, she played victim over and over again, she claimed some people hated her, and she made me believe so many things that I later discovered weren’t real. She twisted reality to her convenience; she created a false narrative where she was the poor victim who was attacked constantly and that she only wanted the best for everybody. She just wanted to be ‘nice.’

Knowing English isn’t my first language and sometimes it’s hard for me to understand certain expressions, she used that to be able to act as a bigot without me noticing until it was too late.

And I believed her. I believe every single fucking word she said about others, because why would she lie? She was just trusting me with things, right? She was just warning me about people, she cared about me, she was just looking out for me.

I’m a good friend, I know I am. Friendship has always been important to me, and I’m faithful to whoever I care about. I thought I was being a good friend to her by defending her and giving her my thoughts and opinions about all these ‘awful’ people who didn’t like her and were against her.

She just wanted an ally.

Her love bombing and praise only lasted until I didn’t act the way she wanted.

I confronted one of her ‘friends’ in her server after that person was exposing an innocent writer just to humiliate them. I was mistreated and attacked. She, the owner, didn’t do anything to stop it while I was telling her in dms what was happening. She didn’t do anything at all because she didn’t care.

She didn’t care either when I showed her proof that her friend was a terf. I was worried, I was so naïve I thought maybe this person didn’t know about her friend being transphobic. But she knew. She didn’t act surprised, she just did her best to clarify she wasn’t a terf ‘by association’ in between jokes and tried to justify her friend over and over again. She dismissed my worries and acted like it wasn’t such a big deal.

I trusted her to the point I felt safe enough to tell her I am autistic and how hard it was growing up not knowing that, how everyone treated me as if I was dumb when I was a kid and a teenager. Her attitude towards me changed after she knew my diagnosis. From treating me like I was a child to a condescending way to talk to me whenever I did ‘wrong.’

I supported her when she decided to create a BB just to be called silly and treated as stupid because I wouldn’t join if the terf was there. She simply didn’t care I was affected because I’m non-binary and trans. She just wanted artists for her shitty event because she needed to make a name among other events. She kept insisting that I join, even after she knew the terf was going to be a part of the event. She wanted me to be a pinch hitter artist.

I finally opened my eyes after my medical emergency in February. I decided to open emergency commissions to help with the costs and that led me to talk to people I never talked to before. People this individual didn’t want me to talk to.

I don’t know why things happen but everything seems to happen for a reason. Some people that reached out to me to help me were people this individual talked shit about over and over again for months. And to my surprise, they were nothing like I was made to believe. On the contrary, these people were sweet, nice, and were actually sincere.

Her reaction to me talking to them was passive-aggressive comments, jokily threats and playing the victim. She also started giving me the silent treatment in order to manipulate me again. Which, luckily, didn’t work.

This disgusting individual lied so much I have spent the last few days wondering how much of what she said was true and how much was bullshit. She tried to mess with friendships, she tried to ruin a relationship, she made racist and transphobic comments, she lied about so many people that didn’t deserve it, she thought her lies wouldn’t catch up to her and kept acting like a ‘mean girl’ who wanted to be number one in popularity. She thought having popular friends, who she bragged about, would keep her away from anything.

She thought she was safe and that I was stupid enough to keep believing her.

I’m not stupid. I never was.

And I will not remain silent while she still plays victim, while she decided to blame ME for all of her fucking mess.

When this whole thing exploded, she desperately tried to convince someone she wasn’t bad, that it was all a misunderstanding and that she was just venting to me. A good pity party because she was being called out and she didn’t expect it. She tried to convince them that I was to blame. She didn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus, to make anyone believe I was the villain, exposing me with screenshots, for all we know, were probably manipulated by her. It is now known that she edits, changes and deletes messages.

I’m not a villain for exposing the truth to people I now care about. To people who have been nothing but nice to me even tho they are aware I said awful things about them based on what this individual told me. She tried to brainwash me with her lies and almost succeeded.

The past few weeks have been hard. But it’s harder to see how many others she hurt.

She’s not a good person no matter how much she tried to act like one. Her disgusting behavior led to so much damage and she got me involved in it, using me until the end.

This behavior is not ‘fandom drama,’ it is dangerous behavior, one that should not be tolerated or accepted. Fandom is not a place to escalate in popularity, to surround yourself with popular artists just to get something from them. Fandom should be a safe place for us to enjoy, to escape from reality, from the real world that is hard enough for so many of us.

I will not let her step on me anymore. I will not be her scapegoat. And she will not get my sympathy anymore.

Please be safe out there, do not let these people harm us anymore. This individual and her fucking terf friend can go fuck themselves.

I am so tired.

#fandom wank #i guess it is #dangerous behavior #personal post

[nametakensff]

Worth It (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)

Okay - this fic follows up just over a month from my 3 part K/im x H/arry series (that you don't need to read, I just ended up accidentally writing my fics as part of a continuous AU...again lol), featuring the aftermath of fetishist H/arry dealing with the slow return of certain memories, his budding romantic relationship with K/im and his past hook ups with J/ean

It ended up at 12.9K 😅 All three of them sneeze but it's mostly a J/ean fic (H/arry x J/ean with established H/arry x K/im, and then some H/arry x K/im x J/ean)

~~~~~

Content:

M/M, M/M/M mentioned and ongoing, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, cold sneezes, contagion, mentions of hay fever, rapid sneezes, spray, sneezing on someone, some mess mentions, nose blowing, audibly wet nose rubbing, masturbation, hand jobs, cumming in tissues, tissues, handkerchiefs, coughing, fever, dirty talk, implied praise kink, embarrassment/humiliation, verbal teasing, fantasies and mentions of public masturbation, graphic descriptions of semen, mentions of anal sex, threesomes, brief phone sex, brief exhibitionism/voyeurism fantasy

CW: mentions of past abuse, mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, mentions of physical violence, toxic relationships, abusive language (this fic has J/ean in it it's unavoidable), H/arry has a brief fantasy about licking cum off his hands and using cum as lube, mentions of J/ean and H/arry fucking at an active crime scene, self-hatred, some dudebro jabs at homosexuality

NSFW - Minors DNI!

Jean had a cold. A miserable, eye-watering doozy of a cold. It had started as a few errant sniffles and coughs here and there, perhaps a slightly more notable weariness when he spoke – but nothing could have prepared Harry for the sheer amount of sneezing he would witness as the illness progressed. Four days in, and Jean was a wreck. He refused to take sick leave, even having amassed a considerable amount of days over the years due to pure obstinance. He pointedly ignored any glances of either concern or aggravation as he sneezed, over and over, either into the protective cover of his elbow or a bundle of damp tissues. Not even Judit could convince him to go home.

“We’re in over our heads as it is, Jude. I don’t have the time to laze around in bed with all of – this waiting to be finished.” He’d gestured with a wide sweep of his hand not only over his own desk, but at the general maelstrom of officers marching back and forth across the bullpen, coming and going in a constant stream of activity.

“We’re wading knee-deep through an endless river of bureaucratic bullshit with an incapacitated workforce.”

“I can hear you, you know!” Harry had piped up, sat at his desk with his head in his hands as the mountainous piles of paperwork loomed over him. Kim shot him a sympathetic look from where he sat at his own new desk.

“I meant you to!” Jean growled, before a sudden teasing gasp had him spinning desperately away from Judit and sneezing fittishly into the crook of his elbow. Harry’s stomach was aflutter with butterflies as he watched. He couldn’t make out a sound, not over the din of the office and with the sheer willpower Jean had managed to exert over keeping the sneezes as locked down as possible. He finished shuddering a few moments later and extracted his face from the protective covering of his arm. He somehow now looked even worse for wear.

“Désolé.”

This was meant for Judit – Harry was sure he didn’t particularly give a rat’s ass about what anyone else in C Wing and beyond thought about these increasingly recurrent sneezing fits. The patrol officer in question squeezed his shoulder, her face a mask of concern and frustration.

“Will you at least go home when your shift is over?”

“Yes.” Jean lied.

Defeated and entirely used to accepting it with grace, Judit withdrew. She was smart like that. Harry had watched Jean watching her leave, waiting until she was out of sight before allowing his expression to waver – a look of total surrender, mouth dropping open and brows lifting high before his entire face crumpled. He’d sneezed against his wrist - five times consecutively, if the rhythmic trembling of his shoulders was any indication. When he lifted his head at last, he was bleary eyed and snuffling most pathetically. It had gone straight to Harry’s dick. Sensing eyes on him, Harry turned and noticed with no small amount of embarrassment that Kim had been watching him watch Jean. Not knowing what else to do, he’d shrugged his shoulders apologetically. Kim had merely raised an eyebrow and smirked at him before returning to his own work as if nothing at all had transpired.

Harry had been grateful for the noisy ambience and Jean’s own stubborn tactics of suppression. As long as he didn’t look in his direction, he could almost – almost! – pretend that his fellow officer wasn’t clenching with a paroxysm of tickly, cold-induced sneezes every five minutes or so. He had actually managed to put a dent, although minimal, in some of the simpler paperwork. More importantly, he had kept most of the blood in his brain and out of his dick.

It also seemed as though the way Jean stifled his sneezes into almost near silence didn’t provoke much ‘sympathetic’ sneezing in Kim, as Harry had come to label it. In typical analytical fervour, he had come to understand the perfect conditions to induce a reaction in Kim. He had deduced the following:

Volume. The louder the sneeze heard and/or witnessed, the higher the exponentiality of sneezes on Kim’s behalf.

Desperation. The more irritated, aggravated or generally torturous a sneeze sounded or appeared, the more likely this bizarre form of nasal sympathy was to occur.

Pre-existing sensitivities in Kim. Exposure to dust, cold air, a general fatigued immune system – an already irritated nose was prone to further irritation.

Naturally, a combination of all three in Martinaise had given Harry the show of a lifetime. He had (secretly, sadistically) been hoping Kim would catch his cold, but somehow he had managed to avoid it, despite having been miserably worn down and concussed by the time they finally completed the case of The Hanged Man.

Harry kept these ruminations to himself, of course. Maybe he would share them with Kim at some point. For now, at least, there had been no major paradigm shift, and Jean’s sneezes, whilst undoubtedly desperate, were lacking in volume, and Kim was entirely healthy and irritation free. That wasn’t to say there hadn't been any response from the Lieutenant, no. Harry had looked over with depleting subtlety more than once, prompted by a soft gasp, to watch Kim shudder into a small fit of his own on the tail end of Jean’s, and damn near bit through his tongue each and every time.

This system of deny and ignore had proven useful only until the night shift began. Normally, the bullpen was busier and the officers replacing those having finished the day shift would more or less keep the building near constantly occupied. Whatever evil god ruled over Revachol had decided that day, however, to summon every gang banger and petty criminal imaginable and enlist them in the sole mission of keeping damn near all officers of the 41st entirely occupied – and, more importantly, out of the office. It also just so happened to be the night that Harry had reluctantly agreed to stay and get through some paperwork, and Jean had in turn stubbornly refused to leave him unattended. Harry was slowly regaining his trust, and in Jean’s defence, he had evidently been awful at staying on top of paperwork pre-amnesia, and just as resistant to completing it in his recovery.

It shouldn’t have been an issue – but with every officer that left, taking both their physical presence and ambient sound with them, it was increasingly difficult to ignore Jean and the steadfast progression of his cold. Whilst his sneezes were apparently on continuous lockdown, he had long abandoned any attempts to blow his nose in relative silence. Every couple of minutes, Harry’s heart raced in his chest as the loud, obtrusive sound of Jean forcing air and mess out of his miserably congested sinuses echoed out in the office space. His nervous energy was manifesting in a persistent shake in his leg, tapping his foot over and over.

Kim had left early, for him, as well. He had made a habit of staying a few hours or more post shift ever since his transfer to the 41st, realising just how much they had fallen behind in administration. Harry admired him for it – paperwork, though sometimes exciting to record in the moment, was undoubtedly one of the worst parts of being an RCM officer, tediously boring at times – and yet Kim was consistently fastidious, conscientious, and perhaps most importantly, punctual. Today, though, he had excused himself almost within a minute of the day’s end.

“There’s a pivotal race in the TipTop Tournée being broadcast tonight at 7pm – I’ve missed the last few. I’m dying to see how it turns out.” He explained in response to Harry’s wounded complaints about abandonment.

“Oh yeah…you did mention that, come to think of it.” Harry recalled that when Kim had been discussing the race, he had been paying too much attention to the way the Lieutenant’s face had lit up in enthusiasm to really retain any information pertaining to the date of the event in question.

“I’m also exhausted – and it looks like the both of you are, too.” He glanced pointedly at Jean. “Don’t stay too late, detectives. Insufficient health begets insufficient policework.”

“I’m fine.” Jean croaked. Neither Harry nor Kim offered a response, though both had winced at the sheer raspiness of it.

Harry looked up at Kim as the Lieutenant pushed his chair under his desk. His big, baleful and truly pathetic eyes signaled quite clearly ‘do not leave me alone with him’. Kim simply looked at him, shook his head almost imperceptibly, and smiled in response. Harry sighed.

“Bye, Kim.” He mumbled despairingly.

“Goodbye, Harry.” Kim replied pleasantly. He tipped his head at Jean, currently recovering from his most recent series of tightly stifled sneezes. “Officer Vicquemare.”

“Lieutenant.” Jean muttered, not even bothering to look up from his paperwork. He looked thoroughly unwell, and Kim’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before meeting Harry’s gaze. The pair of them shrugged at each other, and Kim was out the door moments later.

And so, here Harry sat, not 45 minutes later and already so unbelievably sexually frustrated he had practically eaten half a pencil. It just wasn’t fair. The bullpen was probably the most silent he had ever known it to be in his entire time at the 41st. He knew this in his bones, regardless of solid memories to go off. Besides the sound of the city beyond the windows of the building and the hum of various electronics, the only other noises to be heard were as follows: Harry’s audible pencil consumption. Harry’s tapping foot on the linoleum floor. Harry’s fingers drumming on his desk. Harry’s grunts of frustration. Jean’s throat clearing. Jean’s coughing. Jean’s sniffling, sneezing, nose blowing – every noise imaginable of the miserably congested. And the inexplicably loud clock driving Harry to the brink of insanity as it ticked its way through this test of mental and physical fortitude.

The tail-end of Jean’s latest sneezes caused his sinuses to squeak quite audibly. It was the final straw for Harry – he needed to take a fucking walk. He pushed back his chair and stood up much more violently than intended. Jean cast a weary glance his way.

“Not leaving, just – kitchen. Need anything?”

Jean stared at him a moment longer, leaving Harry to sweat and wilt under his stony gaze, before returning to his work. He cradled his forehead in one hand, closing his eyes for a moment.

“No.”

Harry waited to see if anything would follow. When it didn’t, he strode out of the bullpen and down the hallway, shielding his erection as best he could with what he hoped was a subtle hand in front of his crotch. He walked towards the kitchen, fully intending to grab a sugary snack of some description as a form of distraction, but decided last minute to make his way to one of the several payphones at the end of the corridor.

“Hello?” Kim answered after the third dial tone.

“Kim,” Harry sighed desperately into the handset. “I think I’m dying. Jean, He is - He’s. Driving me insane.”

Harry heard Kim sigh an equally desperate sigh of his own. In his mind’s eye and in Kim’s apartment, the Lieutenant cast a nervous glance towards the clock on his wall. The hands were rapidly approaching 7pm. He was comfortably settled next to his radio with a can of beer. This was not ideal timing.

“You’re not dying, detective.” He offered drily. Harry was undeterred.

“But you see, Kim, I think I am. I have no idea how to deal with this. You know I don’t. You know that firsthand.”

The entire reason he and Kim had fucked in the first place had been because this stupid fetish had rendered him incapable of keeping his dick in his pants. The results had been overwhelmingly positive – they were still fucking now. Regularly. They had even started sleeping over at each other’s apartments. They went on walks and to cafes together. Neither had vocally confirmed it, but it seemed obvious to Harry that they were at least kind-of sort- of dating. Pseudo-almost-boyfriends, one might say. It had been a happy accident, and his embarrassing inability to keep his shit together had somehow – inexplicably - won Kim over.

 Jean was not Kim.

Harry’s memories had been coming back incrementally – little pieces here and there with the occasional groundbreaking moments of picture-perfect recollection. He had remembered very little about Jean  – had forgotten him entirely with the initial amnesia – and this was evidently, and understandably, an extremely sore spot for the younger officer. It turns out that he was Harry’s bona fide best friend, on top of his partner. More complicated was the fact that they had fucked, many times. This had come to light when Jean had caught Harry kissing Kim in the precinct parking lot.

“Well. I can’t say it isn’t somewhat relieving that an Officer as competent as Lieutenant Kitsuragi has equally as shitty taste in men as I do.”

Harry had barely a moment’s notice to let those words sink in before the vivid memory of Jean writhing underneath him knocked the air out of him. From that moment, he had been inconsolable. Was he in a relationship with Jean? Was he actively cheating on him right now? Had he liked men before Kim?? Jean and Kim had in turn done their best to mollify him, settling him and themselves into Kim’s Motor Carriage to conceal this latest mental breakdown from any passing officers.

Jean had confirmed that they were not in a relationship, and they had done very little fucking, if any, for at least six months, for obvious drug-and-alcohol-spiral related reasons. Harry was a little relieved, but still devastated to have forgotten. He could tell that this gaping nothingness in his brain regarding Jean deeply hurt the younger man, and for that he was truly apologetic.

“It’s fine, Harry.” Jean had spoken to him in the kind of tone one might use to console a cornered animal. “You remembered something just now. You’ll remember more, over time.”

It was the softest Jean had been with him since Martinaise. Harry had felt the tears welling up in his eyes almost immediately.

“Kim wasn’t my bisexual awakening?” He’d asked in a tiny voice, sounding ridiculous but authentically devastated and confused enough that neither Kim nor Jean had laughed at the absurdity of it.

“It’s okay.” Kim had reached out and patted his arm. “It doesn’t change anything. I won’t take it personally.”

Harry had burst into tears anyway. He was still crying by the time Kim’s MC rolled to a stop outside his apartment building, and was only just winding down by the time he was escorted to his flat by both Kim and Jean.

In present day, he leaned his head against the wall beside him. Kim cleared his throat.

“I can’t stay on the phone for long. I’m not sure what to suggest other than finding a means to take the edge off. Actually-“ Harry could hear that he immediately regretted that particular phrasing. “What I should say is, find a way of achieving relief.”

“Kim.” Harry smiled. “Are you, for the second time since we’ve met, suggesting I rub one out during work hours?”

“I assumed it was par for the course with you, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.” The way his voice dropped an octave with the flirtation was doing nothing for Harry’s erection.

“You’re not helping,” He whined down the phone.

“Probably not. I’m just telling you what I would do if I were you. Find somewhere private and have an orgasm.”

Now that really didn’t help. The thought of Kim masturbating at his desk, head thrown back in ecstasy as he pleasured himself in plain sight made Harry’s cock twitch. He ignored the ‘private’ part, instead picturing the smaller man surrounded by an audience of hungry onlookers.

“Dammit.” He growled into the mouthpiece. He heard Kim chuckle on the other end of the line. “I guess I’m going to have to. But I’m worried he’ll come look for me if I’m gone for too long.”

“Well,” Kim started. Harry could just picture the subtle smirk of his mouth. “It shouldn’t take you very long, all things considered. Maybe you could start now.”

“You know,” Harry breathed out, “I didn’t peg you for a sex pest. Encouraging phone sex on top of it all.”

“Relax, Harry, I’m just teasing you. You’re fun to tease.”

“Fucker.”

Kim just laughed. The sound of it made Harry soft all over.

“I guess I really should go and…take care of myself. I can’t sit there anymore, constantly on the verge of going off in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

“You’re just sensitive. It’s not a bad thing. Extremely impressive for a man your age, and with your history of substance abuse.”

Kim was, within reason, in the habit of putting a positive spin on all of Harry’s flaws and fuck-ups. Harry could see how from the outside this may appear overly mollycoddling, but even if that were the case, it had done wonders for his almost non-existent self-esteem. He drank the compliment in as eagerly as he would have liked to down a double vodka and lemonade.

“I guess, but – I mean, it’s so awkward. I don’t even know if he – you know, knows. About my thing.”

Kim laughed again, uncharacteristically hard for him. Harry blinked and said nothing, letting the younger man compose himself.

“Oh, Harry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you. But he most certainly knows. The two of us have actually discussed it in relative detail.”

Harry gaped, almost dropping the phone in shock.

“You Judases! Ganging up on me when my back’s turned-!”

“You’re being dramatic.” Kim drawled. He was clearly enjoying this reaction. “It was a short conversation, one smoke break. I don’t even remember how we got onto the topic. But rest assured, he definitely knows.”

Harry paused, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to probe for more.

“How…does he know. In what way?”

“Let’s just say…that you liked to take advantage of Satellite-Officer Vicquemare’s hay fever – which I’ve come to understand is quite impressive, in full swing.”

Harry’s cock throbbed dangerously in his pants, drooling into the fabric of his underwear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkkk…!”

“Mhmm. In fact, I believe you almost contaminated an active crime scene with semen residue following such an exploit. Jean seemed to imply this was the case.”

“God…” Harry muttered. He suddenly felt an overwhelming sensation of loss mingling in with the horniness – not dissimilar to the way he felt when Dora sprung to mind. “I wish I could remember. This sucks.”

“…I’m sorry, detective. I didn’t mean to upset you. For the record, I haven’t disclosed any particular details of intimacy between us to him.” He paused for a moment, sounding genuinely dismayed. Harry knew it hadn’t been his intention to trigger any amnesia-related sadness.

“Okay.” He muttered pathetically, suddenly on the verge of tears. He was slowly realising that even without the withdrawal or presence of narcotics in his system, his default setting as a human being appeared to be overly-emotional and very bad at controlling it. He heard Kim tut affectionately over the line.

“These things will come back to you, sporadically. The hospital has said as much. You don’t need to worry, I promise.”

“…Yeah.” Harry nodded, tears beading his eyes. Kim couldn’t see him, but the motion alone was soothing.

His erection seemed undeterred by this rapid swinging of moods. It felt like he didn’t often give his body time to catch up with his emotions. Either way, it was still there, tenting his trousers in plain view of anyone who might walk past. He glanced around. The building was still eerily empty. That one unearthed memory of Jean squirming underneath him as he pistoned in and out of him danced seductively behind his eyelids every time he closed them.

Kim was waiting patiently for him to speak. Harry knew the race would be starting imminently – he should wrap this up.

“Kim?”

“Yes?”

“I might have to fuck him over this. Would that…be a problem?”

He waited with eyes scrunched shut for Kim’s response. This was…a grey area. Something they hadn’t really discussed. Exclusivity.

There had been one evening – a particularly emotional one, in which Jean and Harry had been working through their past grievances. This involved a great deal of Harry being exposed to more and more news of the complete and utter asshole he had become as his alcohol and drug abuse soared. The pain on Jean’s face at times made him feel physically ill just shy of vomiting. He was disgusted with himself.

Kim had been present, a self-elected referee to ensure neither men whipped each other into an emotional frenzy from which there was no return – or at least to step in if things turned physically aggressive. The whole thing had ended up sort of like a strange counselling session with Kim as the occasional de facto therapist. It was funny, looking back. It felt like they’d made genuine progress together, but by the end of it Harry was exhausted and practically oozing self-hatred. What had started as comfort from both Kim and Jean in the form of a gentle palm rubbing his back here, a reassuring squeeze to the thigh there had…escalated. Quite rapidly. He didn’t even remember who made the first move but fantastically, miraculously, an evening of homosexual group sex had unfolded.

By the end of it, Harry had been physically sated but in a state of near disbelief. He could no longer tell if the amnesia had been the worst or best thing that had happened to him. An orgasmic gay threesome with his fellow police officers was definitely not what he had expected going into that discussion, but he wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth. In a matter of weeks and culminating in this one evening, he had gained a kind-of-sort-of boyfriend and more or less patched things up with his forgotten-best-friend-cum-fuck-buddy. And he’d even gotten to watch them fuck each other on the living room floor when he’d taken a breather for a glass of water.

Nothing of that nature had occurred between the three of them since. Nothing had been awkward the next day at work, not even remotely. Jean and Kim seemed perfectly at ease with each other, at least from what Harry could see. In addition, Jean’s face seemed to light up with hope each time Harry remembered something about him – even the awful things. It was bittersweet, getting to know him all over again. He wanted to do better than before – couldn’t even imagine treating Jean the way he had. He wanted to respect his boundaries and take things slow – if that was what Jean wanted.

Fucking Jean in the office without Kim because all of the sneezing he’d been doing had gone straight to his dick was probably the worst idea he’d had in a while. Not a boundary to be seen – and he would be taking it about as slow as a Mach 5 missile.

Kim broke the silence in a matter of seconds, though to Harry it may as well have been hours, for the agonising anxiety it caused him.

“I…don’t recommend exposing yourself to the virus when your immune system is already so compromised.”

Harry huffed out a dead-pan laugh.

“I think you know that’s not what I mean. Is it…okay? Me and him, without you there?”

Kim hesitated for a moment, then let out a measured sigh. Harry could picture him massaging the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses.

“As much as I like to indulge you, I’m okay with not being sneezed on by Satellite-Officer Vicquemare for now.”

His voice had a playful lilt to it, which was somewhat reassuring, but wasn’t enough.

“I’m serious, you know.” Harry gripped the mouthpiece of the phone tightly, the plastic audibly crunching under the pressure. “I really l-!..like you.”

Fuck. He had almost, almost dropped the L-bomb like a batshit crazy person. He felt himself flushing like a bashful little boy. Kim said nothing. Harry swallowed nervously and continued.

“I want to be with you. Like a boyfriend, I think. I don’t know. I’m not – I’m not very good at this. I’m evidently horrible at relationships.”

“…Harry-“

“And it’s important for you to understand that. Umm. I’m not just using you. For sex.”

“Harry.” Kim said. His tone was warm and patient. Harry didn’t interrupt him this time.

“I like you too.” He sounded genuine, and happy. “If you’re asking me to be your boyfriend, then…yes. I would like to try that.”

Harry punched the air in a silent dance of victory. He managed to swallow the urge to whoop like a lunatic and let Kim finish.

“You have a shared history with Jean. He’s an excellent partner to you, and an exemplary RCM officer. You were never in a romantic relationship, and neither of you have expressed an active desire to pursue one. I trust him, and I trust you. And I really do like Officer Vicquemare…”

Harry listened, sensing more.

“I also liked the way he whimpered when I fucked him up the ass.”

Harry let out the strangest combination of surprised laughter and heated groaning. Kim chuckled in response.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Harry pushed after a beat. “If it’s an issue – getting my rocks off, with him, like this – then I promise, I won’t so much as look in his general direction-!”

“It’s okay, Harry. Really. Again, despite everything, I trust you both entirely. Maybe I’m completely stupid, I don’t know. I’m still getting…acclimated.”

That was an understatement if there ever had been. Precinct 41 was everything Precinct 57 was not – chaotic, abrasive, action-packed, a clusterfuck of insanity. In Harry’s opinion, though muddled of mind that he was, Kim was doing an excellent job of taking everything in his stride.

“We can talk about what we’re doing when I see you tomorrow. My race started two minutes ago. Go and get sneezed on by your subordinate officer. Or, like I said, don’t. It seems like a particularly nasty cold.”

Harry had been doing a great deal of gaping stupidly over the span of this conversation. He did it again for good measure.

“I…don’t even know where to start. Man…Okay. I’ll…figure something out. We’ll talk tomorrow?” He asked, his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Tomorrow.” Kim agreed. “You’re ridiculous. Turns out, I like that.”

Harry grinned.

“I hope your guy wins.”

“Me too. Goodnight, detective. See you in the morning.”

“Night.”

Harry hung the phone back in its cradle before exhaling a huge breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. He felt giddy and exhilarated with a hopefulness he hadn’t experienced in what had to have been years.

“What the fuck,” he laughed in the empty corridor. This was insanity, but if there was anything this last month and a half had taught him, it was to go with the flow and enjoy it. He didn’t always need to be fighting tooth and nail for control in a Universe that did what it damn well pleased, no matter how hard he resisted. This acceptance of futility was nothing like the suicidal ideation of his drug-induced spirals. It was paradoxically the most empowering realisation he had come to perhaps in his entire adult life. Whatever happened, would happen. He would accept it with as much grace as he was capable. Which was admittedly not a lot, but hey. Nobody could say he wasn’t trying his best.

~~~~~

Harry helped himself to biscuits and tea in the kitchen and sat for a while, contemplating his approach. Jean and Kim were very different beasts when it came to the appeal of Harry’s…well, everything. Whilst Kim appeared – and still very much was – quite distant at times, Harry could practically see him opening up day after day like the delicate unfurling of flower petals. Jean had known Harry for years and had both the psychological and physical scars to show for it. Being a pathetic, horny freak had perhaps charmed Kim due to its novelty. Begging Jean for a quick office fuck, from what he could glean, was surely the go-to approach he’d used on his partner before he’d forgotten everything. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go down that route again, especially when Jean was undeniably ill and pissed off about it.

He sighed, dunking his last biscuit in his tea and barely even noticing when half of it sank to the bottom of the mug in a soggy lump. He didn’t want to be overly direct, but he doubted there was any other way to approach the matter. He made up his mind and decided he would prefer any rejection coming from Jean in the form of a quick punch to the face rather than any awkward verbal letdown – the kind of which would inevitably follow any subtle attempts at flirtation on his part.  

When Harry arrived back at C Wing, Jean was mid sneeze. Harry watched him from the doorframe and knew with utter certainty that he had to fuck him. It was a primal need at this point.

“hH-Dtch!-Ngxt!-Gkkt! Hh! Dsh-tshh-tsh!”

Perhaps he hadn’t noticed Harry watching him – how could he, as preoccupied as he was sneezing himself stupid. He was stifling a lot less successfully, barely trying at all. His poor sinuses sounded miserably swollen, his inhales when he was given half a chance to take them shaky and exhausted, the poor bastard. Harry wanted his cock buried to the hilt inside of him.

Jean finished at last, sighing from the depths of his being and simply sitting still for a moment. Arms propped up on the desk, he leaned his forehead into his left hand, tentatively rubbing his nostrils with one crooked knuckle of his right. Harry strode towards him and stood before his desk, practically vibrating with energy. Jean lifted his head, cast his bleary eyes towards Harry’s face where they lingered for a moment, before taking in the impressive bulge Harry now made no effort to shield.

“What the fuck are you-”

“You’re driving me crazy. I want to pull my cock out and cum all over the place.”

Jean’s mouth dropped open. It was somewhat pleasing to Harry, to see such an expression on his partner’s face. These days, being most often met with derision, bemusement or melancholy, it was nice to shake things up a little, to know he wasn’t an entirely predictable cliché to Jean. He also liked seeing that mouth wide open – the suggestiveness of it. He wanted to see that more often.

Once the initial shock seemed to leave his system, Jean glanced around as if to confirm that there was nobody else to eavesdrop on Harry’s relative insanity. The room was as empty as it had remained for the past couple of hours – no other officers magically appeared from behind any furniture, ready to point and jeer. He turned back to Harry, but the older man cut him off before he could start chewing him out for his unabashed brazenness.

“I’m serious, you know. You’re painfully hot right now. I can’t think about anything else.”

He briefly squeezed himself through his trousers for emphasis. Jean’s eyes lingered long enough to make Harry grin.

“…And how would Kitsuragi feel about you touching yourself in front of me, getting off on my misery like the fucking pervert you are?”

Jean’s words were biting but there was no real animosity behind them. His bleary eyes seemed brighter, alert and pensive all of a sudden. Something about the way Harry’s cock throbbed in response to the derision, the ease with which the words poured out of Jean with no hesitation at all made it clear that this was an area of great familiarity for the both of them.

“Oh, don’t worry about Kim. He all but told me to fuck this out of my system.”

That wasn’t strictly the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. Jean scoffed in response.

“I knew he was a freak but I didn’t take him for a cuckold.”

“Hey, that’s not-“

“Shut up, you presumptuous cretin! I should punch you in the face for calling your boyfriend and asking permission to – what, fuck me? Before you even asked me?”

Harry cringed a little. This was actual, legitimate anger now – and when Jean put it like that, he really did seem like an asshole. A selfish part of him loved hearing his partner refer to Kim as his boyfriend, but he buried it for the moment. He may be a presumptuous cretin but even he knew if he started giggling like a love-struck teenage girl right now he really would be getting a fist to the face.

He paused for a moment, taking in Jean’s ire and the way his pale eyes pierced into his own. And then he opened his mouth.

“Don’t take this out on Kim. You seemed perfectly fine letting us double team you a few weeks ago.”

Jean made a strangled sound and flushed so hard he looked almost purple under the shitty, fluorescent lighting.

“That was different, you moron! We weren’t in an office, for one. It just happened. And I could breathe out of my fucking nose then.”

Harry couldn’t help the little twitch of pleasure his cock gave at both the memory of their sex and Jean bringing attention to his current, miserable condition. He peered down his nose at him, happy the younger man was sat down whilst he stood. It gave him a little leverage, the illusion of domination, to be towering over him right now.

“I doubt we’ve never done it here before. And Kim told me that you told him – behind my back, by the way – that we’ve fucked at crime scenes too!”

Trying not to think about the grossly teenage sounding 'he said, she said' turn of phrase, he initially omitted the part about Jean’s hay fever before hesitating, reconsidering and adding:

“And from the sounds of it, you couldn’t breathe through your nose then either. And you still wanted it, Vic.”

Jean blinked at him, looking a confusing mix of sheepish, perturbed and aroused. Harry realised he’d called him ‘Vic’; it felt familiar, rolled right off his tongue. That nickname on top of the damning accusation of his willing participation seemed to have rendered his partner temporarily speechless. Whilst it was pretty fun, it also felt a little too much like bullying. Harry sighed, and dropped to his knees, resting his chin on the desk and peering up at Jean with big, watery eyes. He hoped that the shift in positioning would make Jean feel better, even if it made him look pathetic.

“Please?” He batted his eyelashes up at the younger man. “Getting off will help me focus on these cases.”

Jean scoffed, again, and scrubbed his animated nostrils with one crooked finger. Harry zoned in on the motion, biting his lip as an audible squishing noise filled the air and Jean’s finger came away slightly shiny.

“You want to get off? Go jerk off in the bathroom and quit bugging me.”

Harry growled, gripping the edge of the desk on either side of his chin and staring up at Jean, who was no longer pink with embarrassment but staring daggers at him all the same.

“But – don’t you want to watch me cum for you? Because of you?” He scrambled to his feet again, leaning over the desk and hovering his face right in front of Jean’s. The younger man’s breathing seemed laboured, and not strictly because of his cold. He was turned on by this. Harry decided to go for gold and flashed him the sexiest version of ‘The Expression’ he could muster. Jean looked pained.

“Harry…” He breathed against Harry’s lips, leaning subconsciously towards him. “You can make things up to me by doing your goddamn work.”

“That’s…that’s kind of putting the cart before the horse, though.” Harry mumbled. Jean likes horses, he remembered. Maybe he’d find that turn of phrase endearing.

Harry watched him take it all in. He could practically visualise the process of Jean’s thoughts as he worked through resistance, indignation, and then – at last – reluctant acceptance.

“God fucking damn it.”

He stood, pressing a finger underneath his red-raw nostrils as if another sneeze was imminent. Harry hoped that was the case. He staggered backwards, excited grin plastered to his face and heart pounding in his chest.

“Don’t look so fucking pleased with yourself.” Jean muttered, walking in the direction of the copy room. Harry continued to look pleased as punch, trailing after Jean’s purposeful stride with a slightly more awkward gait. The zipper of his trousers strained against his burgeoning erection, growing impossibly harder now that there was promise of relief.

Harry slammed the door shut behind them, locking it for good measure just in case the station inexplicably flooded with life. Jean was leaning back against the printer when Harry turned to face him, muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. In this stance, he could really appreciate the results of the many hours the younger man spent working out to an almost pathological degree. His biceps strained against the cotton of his shirt, and the way his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, leaving his hairy forearms exposed…Harry fought back a sudden pavlovian deluge of saliva at the sight of him. The way Jean was regarding him with a mixture of irritation, arousal and amusement was doing nothing to calm the throbbing between his legs.

Harry walked the few steps towards Jean and stared back. When Jean made no move, said nothing but offered a congested sniffle in response, Harry tilted his head a little in confusion.

“So, umm…?”

The older detective motioned with his hands, a distinctive ‘what gives?’ motion. Jean just smiled derisively at him.

“What? I thought you came in here to jerk off. So jerk off.” Even though the cold had left him pallid and drained, Harry didn’t miss the way his pale eyes glittered as he spoke.

“But, can I? I mean, aren’t we-?” Harry floundered slightly. This was not what he had had in mind. He realised suddenly he wasn’t entirely sure what he expected from the interaction. He’d only really been thinking about having an orgasm. But Jean had lead him here – surely that was an invitation for – what, a quick fuck? Hand jobs, blow jobs, mutual masturbation? Just. Something…together.

Jean’s amusement visibly increased with every passing moment of Harry’s braindead confusion. Sadistic bastard, Harry thought. His dick twitched in earnest.

“Use your words, shitkid.” Jean smirked at him, rounding off his command with a waterlogged sniffle that sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. He didn’t give Harry so much as a chance to do so before continuing.

“I came in here to sneeze in privacy – you followed me. You thought I was going to drop to my knees and suck your dick?”

Harry visibly wilted, mouth dropping open in dismay. This was revenge. Petty, mean-spirited revenge. Sure, Jean hadn’t actually agreed to do anything – Harry had just followed him of his own accord but – but! The implications!

Jean watched his face as these thoughts whirled round his brain. Apparently, he must have looked about as pathetic as he felt, and Jean started to laugh. It was a nice laugh – a genuine laugh, maybe a little endearing and at odds with the spiteful way he had been addressing him moments earlier. Harry waited for him to finish, and he soon did, clearing his throat a little as if embarrassed at his own naked display of amusement.

“It’s okay, shitkid. You can take your cock out and enjoy the show. But I’m not touching you – I feel like fucking shit.”

Harry listened to him speak, watching his face intently. This was the first time Jean had admitted out loud to feeling unwell, even if it was blatantly both visually and aurally obvious to everyone else around him. It seemed he’d tired himself out with the domineering bravado, slumping a little against the copy machine, no longer having the energy to maintain his upright posture. His nostrils were also twitching, a surefire sign that he was about to start sneezing, and soon.

“Fine. Okay.” Harry muttered, already feeling the heat gathering and pulsing outwards from his groin at the mere promise of what was to come. He managed to extract his hard cock from the confines of his trousers, narrowly avoiding catching the delicate skin in his zipper, and wrapped one sweaty, spit slick palm around it. It immediately felt incredible, and he swore as he started to stroke it. This would not take very long.

Looking up from the tantalising sight of his own hand working his cock – a huge cock, a cock he was pathetically proud of – he focused his eyes back on Jean, and was glad he had done so. He stared as the younger man shuddered with a round of desperate, tickly little sneezes, all successfully stifled into silence against an outstretched pointer finger. Fuck, Jean looked good like that, cringing into that tight, pained expression as he bit down on every sneeze. His nostrils looked so lovely and so red in sharp contrast with the rest of his pale complexion. Harry wanted those nostrils pressed up against the shaft of his cock. He thought about Kim doing the same, willingly teasing him with sneezes and making him cum embarrassingly quickly, like the way he had done last week as they fooled around on his couch. His cock drooled precum.

Jean had a moment’s reprieve before he was scrambling in his trouser pockets for a tissue, extracting one at last that looked entirely worse for wear – balled up into no more than a lumpy mass, completely past the point of usefulness. All the same, Jean was bringing it up to his poor, flaring nostrils, giving Harry just a moment to take in his creasing eyebrows, the grimace of his open mouth as the tickle crested and he sneezed fiercely into it.

“Hn’tshh!! TSH’iew! Nd’Tsh! Tsh-Tshht!!”

He gasped, an intensely desperate sound that had Harry gasping too. And then the cycle repeated.

‘Ddtsh! Tsch’uu-TShht!! Hgk’Tssht! Huhd’Tishh-Tissh-‘Ddtshieww!!”

Harry was in pure, fetishistic ecstasy, squeezing and stroking his cock for all he was worth to those gorgeous little sneezes. It was so erotic, that such a gruff, muscular man was rendered entirely helpless by such proportionately tiny releases. His own huge sneezes were a lot more appropriate for a man his size, he thought, but the contradiction only seemed to turn him on even more than if Jean had sneezed with equally gigantic proportions. It was endearing, if one could describe something as such even whilst it resulted in an erection the hardness of which titanium couldn’t hold a candle to.

Jean paused for a moment, nose still buried in the pathetic knot of tissue, breath scissoring in and out of him. Harry steeled himself for more, slowing down his stroking so that he wouldn’t topple over the edge just yet. He wanted to cum so badly, but he wanted more. He wanted to watch Jean’s face completely unobstructed by hand or tissue alike. He wanted to see the way they would overwhelm him without the interference of suppression. He bit his bottom lip, trying not to whimper as his subordinate officer hitched, and hitched, and hitched -

“Please,” he gasped out, the sudden raspy outburst a lot louder than he had intended. It was evidently loud enough to throw Jean off balance, huffing in frustration as his sneeze failed to culminate past a desperate, vocal “Huhhdt-!!”. Harry groaned in response, felt his dick throb in his grasp as Jean’s face pinkened in embarrassment over the aborted release.

“What is it? You distracted me. Fuck, it burns!”

He proceeded to scrub at his poor nostrils with the sodden tissue, nudging the tip of his nose from side to side. Harry could tell he was genuinely tiring of the persistence of the tickle. Vague memories suddenly skimmed his brain of Jean at the tail-end of spring and over summer, bullying his nose with the knuckles of his hand when a pollen-induced sneezing fit lay just out of reach. Come to think of it, they were coming up to May very soon…god. Harry sighed, squeezing his cock to these happy thoughts and watching as precum beaded at the head. Fuck, this felt so good.

“Sorry, sorry, just please - don’t use the tissue. And don’t hold them back. Please? You’re so fucking hot.”

Jean’s blush deepened – whether in frustration or arousal at the compliment, he couldn’t be sure. Either way, it went straight to his cock.

“What? Fuck you. You don’t get to tell me how to sneeze.”

He was a little pissed, his accent thickened in overly performative and righteous indignation at the suggestion of catering to Harry’s specific whims. If Harry wasn’t mistaken, and his gut assured him he was not, it seemed like defensiveness against the fact that he would very much like to be told what to do. This felt, again, familiar. It made Harry harder to hear the way his loss of composure elongated the vowels in the word ‘sneeze’. He stroked himself a little faster.

“Come on, Vic. Do it for the station. I need to cum and clear my head so I can finish all that pesky paperwork. Please?”

He batted his eyelashes again. It wouldn’t have worked on just anyone, no – the sight of a 44 years old, recovering alcoholic police officer, wild-eyed and desperate with cock in hand, begging for his subordinate officer to sneeze uncovered so he could shoot his load. But this was Jean – normal rules did not apply.

“We’ve been through this, you prick. You should fucking do your paperwork without the promise of orgasm because it’s your fucking job!” Jean spat, raising his voice a little more than his irritated throat could take. He coughed harshly for several moments into a raised fist before sighing miserably, glancing up at Harry with a look of surrender. Harry shivered a little, resumed squeezing the head of his cock where he had temporarily abated in nervous concern at the voracity of the coughing. He ended up letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched whimper, bucking into his own grip. Jean sighed.

“Fine. I need to sneeze again, don’t distract m’hh-! Me…”

His breath started to softly hitch. To Harry’s delight, he shoved the soggy tissue back into his pocket and let his head fall back ever so slightly, allowing him to get a perfect view of his crumpling, desperate expression. Jean didn’t think he was a good-looking guy, but Harry wholeheartedly disagreed. He wasn’t one to preach the importance of self-love when he himself struggled to look in the mirror knowing how attractive he’d once been, only to squander it – even if recently, it was getting a little easier to do so. Bravado and charisma masked his discomfort – Jean’s buffer was merely rudeness and aggression. But either way, as he gasped his way into another fit of cock-throbbingly desperate sneezes, Harry had hardly found him more desirable.

“Hhd’Tschht!-D’tshh!! Hh! Hagk’Tisshhiew!! Hgk’Tschh! Hupt’TISHhhiew!! Ihgk’TSHhiew! Higk’TZSCHhhh!...‘DDTSH’uuu!!”

Jean shuddered, gripping the surface behind him as the force of the releases threatened to topple him. Each sneeze sounded positively ruined, as if his body could barely handle the cold-induced tickle that flared again and again. The first two Jean had stifled out of habit, before he’d remembered Harry would very much like to be sprayed with every single one of them. By the time he’d finished, his eyes and nose were leaking, and Harry’s legs were starting to shake with the effort of holding himself upright, a mind-numbing orgasm looming and sapping him of motor control.

“…You’re going to fall down if you don’t hold onto something. We don’t need a repeat of you nearly braining yourself on the edge of a table.”

Jean brought this up so readily, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if Harry should easily remember this fact, the fact that he and Jean had fucked around enough that he had (embarrassingly) injured himself falling to his knees in orgasm before. And he should remember. Why couldn’t he remember?

“I…don’t remember anything like that.” Harry confessed, throat tightening a little.

“I know. It’s okay.” Jean softened immediately, opening his arms up to Harry. “Come here.”

He shifted forward until he was stood between the protective embrace of Jean’s spread thighs, sighing a little as the younger man reached out to place both hands on his waist, steadying him. Harry himself reached out with his free hand past Jean’s waist to press against the sturdy surface of the copy machine. He watched as Jean took a moment to scrub at his nose with the wad of used tissues. It was such a handsome nose – prominent and strong, perfectly suited to his face. Watching it twitch and wriggle and hearing the soft clicks of moisture the motions created as Jean bullied it made his cock throb. He so desperately wanted to replace Jean’s hand with his own and play with it himself, but before he could even move to do so, Jean was dropping his hands right back to Harry’s waist and sneezing all over his chest.

“AEGK’Tssch’uu!! Higk’TSschTtt! ‘TSCHh’uu!! Hh’TISH’ieww!!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Each sneeze sounded so incredibly desperate, so exhausted yet so overpowering, accompanied by a burst of thick spray. Harry’s cock drooled over his knuckles and he whined, low and loud. By the time the fourth sneeze had completed, Harry could feel (and see) the fabric of his shirt sticking to his chest, discoloured where the spray had dampened it. Jean’s tongue reflexively licked his bottom lip clean, thoroughly soaked by the force of his expulsions. He peered tentatively at Harry before his face eased into a relieved smile.

“You really do still like it. Getting drenched by my sneezes.” He was smiling – salacious and assured all at once.

“Yeahhh…Yeah, I really fucking do,” Harry sighed, staring at Jean adoringly as he worked over his cock with a renewed vigour. “Bless you.”

He all but purred the blessing out. It turned him on just as much as any dirty talk, he realised; it was a phrase that encapsulated his adoration, gratefulness and arousal all in one. Jean seemed to enjoy the attention, as well – his breath hitched in a decidedly non-sneeze fashion, and Harry smirked at him.

“Thank you.” Jean practically purred back, gently rubbing his thumbs against Harry’s sides. He stared back into Harry’s eyes, pupils blown so wide the pale irises were almost swallowed by black. “My nose tickles so fucking much. I just want to crawl into bed and sneeze until I fall asleep.”

Oooh, he was good at this. He had an undoubtedly extensive history of saying equally as specific things to Harry. The image of Jean curled up in bed and sneezing all over himself and his bed sheets was a potent one. Harry shivered, biting his lip hard as his knees quivered and struggled to keep from bending.

“Fuckkk…”

The arm he had leant against the copy machine was shaking too, elbow caving inwards and causing him to lean closer into Jean’s space. He didn’t seem to mind, nosing at Harry’s jawline and sniffling noisily. Poor fucking thing – he sounded so congested.

“Poor baby…” Harry breathed out, pressing a kiss to Jean’s cheek. If it was too intimate or too forward, the commotion of his impending orgasm made it very hard to give a fuck. The way Jean’s breath hitched and his solid build seemed to shiver a little at this crooning told him he was probably in the clear.

Jean suddenly pulled his face back from where he had been pressing a kiss to the underside of Harry’s jaw, frantically enough that Harry leant back himself to watch the inevitable unfold. Jean’s breath hitched again, this time due to the merciless persistency of his cold. His nostrils flared, damp and pink, threatening to overflow and make a mess of his moustache. Everything about his tortured pre-sneeze expression was a joy to behold. Harry could understand why he’d taken advantage of it many-a time before. His hand was a blur over his dick; he simply could not stop stroking and squeezing himself to the spectacle of it all. His brain conjured up the image of Kim, watching him watching Jean the way he’d done earlier that day, and he whimpered like a bitch in heat.

“KISHH’uuu!! IhGgKk’TSChhHU! ‘TShhiewww! Fucking h’hell…! hhAGK’TZShhiew!! ‘DZT’shieww!! Ihk’TSsschhttt!!”

Harry almost swooned as the sneezes caught his chin and the exposed column of his throat. He was hot, so fucking hot, even hotter with Jean’s too-warm body so close to his own. He could imagine the delicate aerosol of spray immediately sizzling and evaporating where it kissed his boiling skin.

“Ohh, fuck. Bless you, god, shit. M’gonna cum, gonna shoot…!”

“You make a mess of my uniform, you fucking die.”

Harry groaned through clenched teeth. If Jean didn’t want that, the last thing he should be doing was growling insults at Harry in that stupid, sexy voice of his. His cock throbbed, a decisive pre-orgasmic tremor of pleasure.

Jean seemed to realise any scolding or death-threats on his part were useless – he’d no doubt learned that, right on the brink of orgasm, a hoard of rabid zombies could be seconds away from attacking them both and Harrier Du Bois would be cumming his brains out even as the mauling commenced. Harry felt something press up against the head of his cock, moaning stupidly the second he realised it was the sodden tissue Jean had sneezed and snorted into. His body jerked with the first spasm of orgasm.

Through the roaring onset of his pleasure, he felt Jean wrap an arm round his waist whilst the other clamped the tissue to the spitting head of his cock. Both hands occupied, the younger man was pressing his face against the collar of his shirt, rubbing his nose frantically against him. Harry heard the deep groan he was making as the pleasure started to really crest, so fucking good, hours and hours of tension draining out of him with every blissful twitch of his tortured dick. When Jean’s breath started to hitch, he could feel the in and out of his expanding diaphragm, hear every minute snag in his breathing.

When Jean sneezed, an oh-so desperate triple, audibly and tangibly wet against his collar and bursting across his neck, he all but yelled as his orgasm sky-rocketed from pleasurable commotion to earth-shaking rapture.

“Hh’AHTTt’SHiewww!! KTSh’Schuu!! AEGKk’TSSHhh’uu!!”

His fingers spasmed uselessly against the copy machine, knees all but given out – Jean had had the right idea to hold him up. He was slumped against him, chest to chest, breathing as laboured as a bulldog as the final tremors of orgasm pulsed through him. He just leant there, propped up against Jean like a ragdoll and waiting for his body to cooperate. Jean was slowly rubbing his twitching, damp nose against his neck – it felt electric even in the aftermath of release.

“I never understood,” Jean started, speaking softly into the crook of his neck, “Why you ever felt the need to drink and do drugs the way you did when you can cum like that.”

Harry didn’t know what to say, his brain still a veritable puddle of goo. He’d like to know himself, but he was certain that this sudden resurgence of sex beginning in Martinaise with Kim had followed a relatively lengthy period of LDS – i.e. Limp Dick Syndrome. If he’d been having orgasms, they hadn’t been this fucking good. That he was certain he would have remembered.

“Hah,” He breathed out an awkward, monosyllabic laugh in lieu of anything even halfway intelligent. He smiled and panted, open-mouthed, at the sound of Jean’s responding scoff. He continued to lean there against the warm embrace of the younger man’s body until he felt him shifting in discomfort under his weight.

“Harry. Get off.”

He sighed, pushing himself off of Jean one-handed. He looked down between them, dick in his own hand whilst Jean’s patiently held the snot and cum-filled tissue in place as it threatened to overflow.

“Umm. Fuck. I think I have a handkerchief somewhere, hold on…” He started to root around in his blazer pockets, ignoring Jean’s glare as he unearthed one and started to wipe his hand and cock on the fabric.

“You had that the whole time and you let me use my last tissue to soak up your cum?” Jean rasped. Harry paused for a moment at how unwell he sounded.

“Sorry.” He flashed an apologetic grin at Jean, too blissed out to offer up any kind of excuse. He was getting sick of saying that he’d forgotten things, even if it was true.

“Whatever. Fuck.” Jean tossed the pulpy tissue into the nearby bin, following the trajectory with his eyes and looking pleased with himself when it landed on target.

Harry folded the handkerchief over, offering the clean surface of it to Jean, who took it wordlessly. He tucked his sensitive dick back into his pants, resisting the urge to start coaxing it back to full hardness as the sound of Jean’s lengthy, crackling nose blow forced a pathetic little twitch out of it in response.

Jean snuffled into the handkerchief, massaging his sore, red nostrils, seemingly perfectly content to stand there watching Harry. The older man noticed the prominent outline of the Satellite Officer’s erection, unattended to, straining against his trousers. He looked down at it then up at Jean again, wanting to broach the subject, but then paused, noticing the way Jean was frowning towards the general vicinity of his shoulder.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Jean swiped the handkerchief one last time under his nose before folding it over again and leaning forward.

“Hold still.”

Harry did so, obediently standing in place as Jean scrubbed at the collar of his shirt. He smiled like a dope as he realised his partner was attempting to clean away the prodigious results of that last triple.

“Messy boy.”

“Shut your damn mouth.”

“Is there even any clean fabric left on that handkerchief?”

“Shut up, Harry.”

Harry did. He felt like he was dangerously at risk of swaying in place, the endorphins and release after all the teasing and buildup leaving him far too loose and carefree. Jean pulled back at last, pocketing the handkerchief and rearranging Harry’s shirt collar and necktie. He looked up at Harry, catching him in the act of staring at his face, at the way his dark eyelashes fanned over his cheeks as he worked to smooth Harry out in an almost mechanical fashion. He flashed a little smirk his way, then yanked his tie just so.

“You’re lucky I didn’t use this hideous thing to clean up my mess.” He purred, the raspiness of his voice only adding to the allure. Harry swore under his breath.

“Are you trying to work me up for round two?” He whined. Jean dropped his tie.

“Absolutely the fuck not. Are you going to do your fucking job now?”

Harry sighed. What a fucking buzzkill.

“Yes. Yes I’ll do my job, you win. Although…” He leaned forward, pressing his mouth right up to Jean’s ear and murmuring in a low voice, “I’d like to do you first.”

Jean shivered and huffed a little laugh.

“That was fucking awful, oh my god.”

But he didn’t push him away. He wrapped his arms round Harry’s shoulders instead, humming in approval as Harry kissed his neck and trailed one broad hand down his torso before draping it across the bulge in his pants. He sighed, a gorgeous little exhalation of pleasure that sent shivers down Harry’s spine as he started to unzip his pants.

“Do you want this?” He asked even as his hand collected the moisture from Jean’s tip and spread it down his shaft, stroking him firmly.

“Hahh…Yeah. Mm’fucking tired though. So forgive me for – hah!” He cut himself off with his own frantic moaning. He didn’t bother to elaborate; Harry imagined he really was exhausted if his mouthy self was starting to economise his own verbosity.

What Jean lacked in words was more than made up with by the sweet, continuous stream of moans he let out next to Harry’s ear as he wrapped himself around him, resting his head on his shoulder as the older officer kissed and licked the shell of his ear, whispering words of encouragement and praise. His hand moved instinctually over Jean’s length – at least the easy muscle memory, built up over years of fucking, remained where his active memory did not. He clenched his teeth, pushing back the bitter thoughts and focusing on Jean’s gasps and sighs, the little “Ohh fuck”s and “Like that”s he would occasionally choke out as Harry stroked and teased. His own cock was hard again, but he ignored it, speeding up his pace as Jean’s hips started to buck arrhythmically.

He pulled back to watch Jean’s face as he fell to pieces – a different kind of vulnerability twisting his features into a mask of pleasure, though it wasn’t all that different from the irritated expression a pre-sneeze tickle would take. It was achingly familiar – a face he’d no doubt been made to make hundreds of times before at the mercy of Harry’s hands, his mouth, his cock. He’d watched Jean cum when the three of them had fucked, but this was different – just the two of them together in god knows how long, for the first time since the drugs and booze and misery made him an utterly reprehensible waste of skin. Watching those dark eyelashes flutter like that made his chest tight.

“Harrier, fuckkk…gonna cum-! Fuck!”

Jean started to convulse almost immediately, a shuddering gasp wrenching itself out of him as he trembled in Harry’s grip. Harry caught the spurts of semen with his free hand, a moment too late as the first spasm painted a white stripe over the yellow fabric of the thigh he’d pressed between Jean’s legs. He was too blissed out to care, kissing the corner of Jean’s open mouth as he continued to orgasm, mewling as the pleasure overpowered him. He ejaculated into the cage of Harry’s fingers a couple more times before he sagged in exhaustion, clinging to Harry and moaning, blushing face pressed firmly into the shoulder of his blazer. His voice broke on that last, whimpering vocalisation and Harry’s heart ached for him.

He stood patiently as Jean caught his breath and clung to him like a lifeline. One hand awkwardly closed around the dripping mess of Jean’s orgasm whilst the other loosely gripped his sticky, softening cock. He’d have to wait for Jean to unlock the door of the copy room first, holding both sticky hands upright until he located the nearest sink to wash them off. He supposed he could lick them clean – cum wasn’t the worst taste in the world – but the depravity of it would just make him horny all over again. He may as well just take his own cock out and use Jean’s cum as lube.

He was pulled out of this particular train of thought at the sensation of Jean trembling several times against him. The realisation that he was muffling a series of tiny little sneezes into near silence against his shoulder was doing absolutely nothing to keep the blood out of his insatiable cock. He closed his eyes and pictured his paperwork instead.

“Sorry…” Jean muttered, sniffling as he extracted his face from the makeshift covering.

“It’s okay.” Harry murmured, kissing his cheek. He frowned; Jean’s skin felt even warmer under his lips than before. “You’re burning up, Vic.”

Jean sighed.

“I figured as much.”

He unwrapped his hands from around Harry’s shoulders, looking queerly at him as if he didn’t understand why Harry was still stood there with a hand on his wilting cock until he realised the older man’s predicament.

“Oh, uhh…I’ll get you some paper towels. Wait here.”

Harry waited, eyes closed and replaying Jean’s sneezes and his orgasm over and over in his mind, opening them only once he felt the younger man gently wiping his hands clean. He smiled weakly at Jean, and Jean smiled back at him – shy, boyish. At odds with the lines of stress and exhaustion that marred his face, aging him beyond his years.

“I never meant to hurt you.” It was pouring out of him before he had a chance to think twice. Jean sighed, working on Harry’s other hand.

“Harry. You never meant to do any of the things you did, or so you keep telling me. I don’t need to hear this again. Not right now.”

His smile was replaced by the regular hard line of his everyday frown. Harry could have kicked himself.

“I’m sorry, Jean. I really am. I can’t understand why I did the things I did to you. Will you look at me?”

Jean hesitated, then peered up at him under eyelashes dampened by tears. Harry leaned forward and kissed each of his eyelids, lips coming away salty and damp.

“I never want to put you through any of that again. And I won’t.”

Jean’s lips quirked into a tiny, defeated smile – one that said he didn’t really trust him, but wanted to believe in him more than he ever had before. Harry considered it a success, and pressed their foreheads together for lack of anything better to do whilst his hands were still sticky, though notably less so than before. Jean uttered a soft little hum.

“You just jerked me off and this is somehow even gayer.”

Harry laughed.

“Fuck you, man. You’re ten times gayer than me.”

He kissed Jean for all of five seconds before the younger man couldn’t breathe, ducking into Harry’s shoulder and coughing all over his blazer. Harry winced – the dreamy haze of afterglow was beginning to fade and Jean did not sound good.

“You’re so getting this now. I hope you’re happy.” Jean muttered, wiping his mouth dry with the back of his hand.

“If you think for one second I regret doing any of that, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Hm. Whatever you say, superstar.” Jean drawled, tossing the soiled paper towels into the bin alongside the shredded remains of tissue. “Now, move it. You need to wash your hands and do your fucking work.”

Harry sighed and followed him out of the room, casting one quick glance back over his shoulder to assess the damage. Nothing, thankfully. Just the spray on his shirt and the cum on his leg.

~~~~~

Jean had gone home shortly after their excursion in the copy room, leaving Harry unsupervised. He had done some paperwork, but he had also called Kim from his desk phone when he was sure the race had ended and relayed the entire turn of events to him. He’d also jerked himself off again reliving it all, moaning stupidly down the receiver as he came. He was happy to hear the Lieutenant’s own groan of completion, and he’d ended the call, promising to talk again tomorrow. And not a moment too soon – the bullpen was suddenly flooded by a stream of Junior patrol officers, returning amidst a blessed lull in criminal activity.

The next few days at work had been uneventful. Busy, but monotonous. He’d gone out to dinner with Kim, and they’d fucked. Jean had miraculously allowed himself a solitary sick day, surprising them all. He’d returned the following day, still sick but markedly improved. And that had been that.

Until Jean’s cold finally caught up to him and Harry became a sneezing, sniffling mess almost overnight. He’d dragged himself to work and had hardly had 15 minutes free of sneezing since he’d arrived. He’d figured that Jean’s general nasal sensitivities had been the main cause of the sheer number of times that he’d been sneezing with the same affliction, but no. It was easily one of the tickliest, sneeziest colds he had ever encountered – even worse than his cold in Martinaise.

He wanted to lie around and sneeze in bed, away from the scorn and watchful eyes of his fellow officers. But no dice – he had to work, he had to get through this fucking case and oh – oh god. He had to sneeze.

“IIIEEEEESSSSSHHHTTTTttt!!!”

The sneeze had been cunning and entirely malevolent, not giving him the dignity of even a short buildup before the tickle spiked sharply and it was bursting out of him. It hadn’t been messy, thank god, but it had been wet, and his paperwork had taken the brunt of it as the force propelled him over his desk. He groaned, rubbing the underside of his sore, tickly nostrils with the back of his hand. The files were dappled with moisture, the ink of his chicken scratch handwriting bleeding across the page where the worst of the damage had been done.

Nobody had been passing within range of the spray this time, at least. The surrounding area of Harry’s desk had now been dubbed the less than subtle title of ‘The Splash Zone’, following McClaine’s misfortune to be making his way across the room and in front of Harry the second a particularly violent sneeze worked its way out of him – and all over the younger officer’s blazer. Harry had apologised, but in all honesty didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him – or his ugly, checkered jacket.

He snuffled thickly, wiping his runny nose across any remaining dry skin to be found on his arm and wrist. This fucking sucked. He had known the risks. He had willingly exposed himself to Jean’s cold for the sake of a nut. He had nobody to blame but himself. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t feel utterly, miserably sorry for himself. He cradled his forehead in his hands, doing nothing for the preternatural nasal drainage but feeling too rotten to care.

A shuffling noise prompted him to glance towards the source of the disturbance. Kim was using a pen to nudge a tissue box, half-emptied by Harry this morning alone, closer to him and into his line of vision. Harry peered over in bemusement as Kim, mission accomplished, settled back down into his own chair, looking back at Harry with a mixture of exasperation and concern.

“You really should cover your mouth, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.”

Harry sighed, helping himself to a bundle of tissues.

“Sorry. I know. They’ve been sneaking up on me, is all.” He finished before blowing his nose with a resultant sound so thick and crackling that all other noise in the office seemed to dim in comparison.

“Oh, believe me, I’ve noticed.” Kim muttered, returning to his own work with a resigned sigh.

Harry knew he was referring to the way he had been sneezed on this morning, lying in bed as they shared a kiss. It had absolutely destroyed any chance of morning sex and earned Harry one of the iciest looks he had ever received from Kim. He counted himself lucky that Kim was not one to resort to physical violence when slighted, and that his blubbering, heartfelt apology was entirely successful in transforming Kim’s anger into a wilting, stony-faced acceptance.

“I really do have no means of avoiding this illness, now.”

For as bad as Harry had felt about the whole thing, he couldn’t deny that that admission of defeat and the mere thought of Kim catching his cold – this ridiculously sneezy cold – made his cock feel hard enough to cut glass.

A folder of documents was slapped down on his desk with a sudden, resounding slap, making Harry jump and swear behind the tissues. He peered up at Jean, looking almost radiant with healthiness compared the to the state he had been in several days prior.

“From the Boogie Street Stabbing case.” He smiled down at Harry, looking cocky and amused.

“You look like you’re feeling better.” Harry spat, dropping the soiled tissues on his desk and tossing the folder to the right with the rest of the ‘to be returned to’ pile. Jean smiled even wider.

“Apparently the best way to get over a cold is to give it to someone else.”

He directed his best shit-eating grin at Harry, eyes brighter and more focused than they had been in days.

“Wonderful.” Kim grumbled almost inaudibly to the side. He really wasn’t looking forward to getting sick, and Harry could sympathise. He made a mental note to spoil Kim rotten the second he started to feel under the weather. Jean didn’t seem to have heard him, and if he had, he was staunchly ignoring him and favouring bothering Harry the same way a bored child would tease a grumpy old dog.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than rub your health in my face?” Harry snuffled emphatically.

“You’ve rubbed much worse in mine. Consider this pay back.” He turned to leave, but at last minute turned around and deposited another folder – a thick, evil looking dossier on some mob boss or other – on Harry’s desk. “And this, too.”

Harry gaped at him in dismay.

“You’re cruel and unusual!” He groaned after a retreating Jean. His partner merely smirked and flipped him off. It was aggravating, but mischievous and about as light-hearted as Jean was currently capable of. Harry felt, through the weariness of his progressing sickness, a sense of relief. He flipped the bird right back at him, hoping he didn’t look too paradoxically gleeful as he did so.

Jean didn’t seem to notice this capriciousness, just patted his pocket to check for his carton of cigarettes and angled his head towards Judit.

“Jude – smoke break?”

“You shouldn’t be smoking anything – you should still be in bed.”

She followed him outside all the same, more to keep an eye on him than anything else, ready to provide medical attention should he suddenly cough up a lung. Harry envied her immune system – it seemed having kids constantly bringing bugs home was a truly effective form of inoculation to just about anything that was passed around the bullpen.

He watched them leave absentmindedly – before yet another cruel, bullying sneeze tore its way out of him.

“HAAAAEEISSSHHHhh!!...HUH! HAHHHGGGTTSSSSSHHh’uuu!!”

And it brought a friend along with it. A messy friend. Harry clapped a hand over his mouth several seconds too late, muttering an exhausted ‘fuck’ and snuffling into the cage of his fingers. Not getting any warning was incredibly inconvenient but the force of the sneezes, how they sent shivers of pleasure down his spine…that he could appreciate.

“Say it, don’t spray it, Mullen!”

That was Mack, shouting across the bullpen and earning a couple of sniggers in return. He was a meathead, and it was a juvenile, unoriginal and otherwise comically cliché comment. It wouldn’t have bothered Harry in the least had his sneezes been intentionally intrusive, but the fact that he was totally at their mercy brought a light flush of shame to his cheeks. He just wanted to go home and jerk off. He flipped the bird in Torson’s general direction and reached for another tissue.

Kim beat him to it, pressing a bundle of fresh tissues into his palm. Harry looked up and flashed him an appreciative glance, replacing his hand with the tissue. The Lieutenant stood next to his desk, a file underarm, ready to be submitted to Captain Pryce.

“Bless you.” He offered quietly. Harry tried as hard as he could not to visibly squirm. Kim smiled at him. “Was it w-worth...!”

Harry stared adoringly up at him, thanking all his lucky stars for Kim and his ridiculously suggestible nose. If he had a tail, it would be wagging back and forth in a veritable whirlwind of excitement, thumping against the back of his chair.

Kim’s nostrils flared violently and his gaze unfocused, even as he valiantly fought to prevent his eyes from closing. It’s too late, Harry thought. My paradigm is infallible. You’re going to sneeze. He was right, of course; within seconds, Kim’s expression was cinching tight and he was sneezing convulsively into a handful of tissues, plucked frantically from the box on Harry’s desk just in time.

“NGxtt! Hh’NGxt’tzschu!! Hh! hhdt’Tszchhuuu!! Fucking hell…”

In much the same way as Kim had been unable to fight the natural reflexes of his body, so too had Harry. His cock twitched in his pants, filling with blood in an instant. Even if Kim didn’t catch his cold, his own sneezing was an inevitability – which meant so too was Kim’s. Fuck, but he was going to have even more fun with this.

“Bless you!” He offered back, heart thumping so hard in his chest he could hear his pulse in his ears. “And honestly? I think it was worth every second.”

He laughed as Kim tossed his balled up tissues at him and strode irritably out of the room.

#this fic was fighting me but i NEEDED to finish it. just HAD to #i have like....1 1/2 finished K/im fics i didn't want to post before i finished this one as well lol #nametakenfic #d/isco e/lysium #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz fet #snz kink #snz fucker #snzblr #sneeze fucker

[cordeliawhohung]

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

this is not really a request at all just something that i was thinking about

I just thought about some AWFUL angst (?) to fluff in the ps!gaz au, where reader kinda starts feeling bad about her appearance and all but she just keeps it to herself and no one else knows about it, like "it's a phase I will start feeling better soon", then she notices that a new video of gaz came out with a co-star she doesn't know who is, so, out of curiosity, she watches the video and

oh my god

It's as if all the problems she had with her appearance increased at that moment, her already low self-esteem decreased even more

She was comparing herself to that woman in the video, and while watching it she (maybe she was being paranoid) thinks there was something different in the way gaz was acting, i think reader would start to feel a certain insecurity (and also jealousy) about this, even if Gaz was just acting like he does with all the other co-stars he has to film with (not reader ofc their thing is totally different and genuine)

then eventually, probably in that same week, gaz and reader have to film together again and before they actually start filming, as always he goes to see her and instead of getting ready, reader is actually crying because she thinks she was insecure about a million different things and mostly her appearance, thinking that gaz wouldn't like to record with her anymore because he would prefer this woman, then he tries to start helping her feel better, asks her why she's crying and that's when she tells him about the video she saw and it's just pure fluff after that

again this is not a request just something that I thought about and tried to write it down (in a horrible way, but at least i tried)

i DEF see this happening when you start catching feelings for Kyle. like real feelings. not just the two of you fucking for work. you look forward to the aftercare in the showers and it feels so so special and your stomach aches at the idea that he could possibly be doing that with someone who isn't you. and you blame yourself because that's what you get for catching feelings in the porn industry but if only you knew he would drop everything in a heartbeat for you raahhh

thank you for sharing <3 i always love angst ideas!

#core responds #pornstar!gaz

[owl127]

So I was at this women’s basketball game—it being March Madness and all—and this player that I find really really cute (she actually kinda looks like Lexa), wasn’t warming up. When the game started she went through the tunnel and back into the locker room which is kinda weird because even if you’re injured normally you still sit on the bench. But at halftime she came out and I noticed she had earplugs in and after a little Google I found out she has a concussion so she was probably in the locker room because it was too loud on the court. The rest of the game I was thinking about how someone could totally write a fanfic where Lexa is on a sports team, gets hurt, is sad she has to sit out, but has a little mid game locker room rendezvous to cheer her up and give her a thrill. Would you please please pleaseee be that someone?

Lexa’s ears itched to remove her headphones, but the shadow of a headache had started behind her eyes, so she let the noise canceling headphones do its magic. She walked behind the starting team and watched with a frown the pile of windbreakers grow at her feet on the bench while she remained covered. She fiddled with the dark red zipper, the squeaking of rubber against shiny vinyl grounding her while the visiting team entered the arena. Lexa looked away, her eyes darting at the faceless crowd of silver and maroon. The muffled noise of the fans, something she looked forward to at each game, mounted on the pain growing between her eyes. The blinking lights of the stadium did not help with the building dizziness, but she forced a smile as she waved back at a bundle of little girls with signs with her name shining in bright silver glitter.

Lexa Woods.

She bit her lips at the thought of disappointing little girls.

On the other side of the court, the away team warmed up. Lexa looked for a familiar blonde braid, but they were in a huddle, and the amount of blonde heads was borderline offensive for basketball.

“Oi!” A ball came in her direction and Lexa held the pass in pure reflex, but that didn’t stop her frowning at Anya. “You look miserable. Smile for the cameras. It’s the fucking final fours, Lex.”

Their team captain’s shouted words were not as encouraging as Anya thought, and Lexa threw the ball back on the court.

“I’ll be out of here in a minute,” Lexa said and pointed to her headphones. “These are not working as expected.”

A rare sight of kindness flashed over Anya’s face, but it was gone just as fast. She sat next to Lexa, her mouth close to Lexa’s covered ears. “We’re here because of you. No one doubts that. We’ll win this so you can crush it at the final.”

Lexa bit her lip. They needed to win, and her concussion needed to be fully recovered for that to happen, and none of that was a guarantee. She nodded, and the movement didn’t help with her growing headache.

“I’m going back in,” she excused herself, standing up. Anya’s face softened, nodding.

“Your head okay?” Anya asked at the same time a wave of nausea hit Lexa.

Lexa moved her palm in a so-so pattern, and before their couch yelled at her, she backtracked her steps into their home locker room. She didn’t look up at the calls for her name while ducking into the tunnel, focused on escaping the noise.

The locker room was messy, with open bags and unfolded clothes littering the floor. The smell of bleach and foot powder was familiar, with a hint of synthetic eucalyptus from the shower row. Lexa finally took off the headphones, her ears popping in relief. Layers of concrete and tile protected her from the loud crowd, and Lexa closed her eyes. 

She could have made history tonight. Instead, because of a single nasty call at her last game, she cannot even watch from the bench.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, her lips trembling in frustration. She wanted to punch something.

“I know, right?”

Lexa’s neck turned at the voice, her vision blurring for a second as she focused.

She must be hallucinating, because in front of her was Clarke Griffin, point guard of the Arkadia Comets, and the usual pain in Lexa’s ass whenever they played. But why was she here and not on court? Her brain finally caught up with the full image and she noticed the clutches under Clarke’s arms and how her left foot didn’t touch the floor.

“I watched your last game.” Clarke’s dimples showed at a half smile. “I’m surprised you made it to the game tonight,” Clarke said as she sat heavily next to Lexa with a long sigh and the clacks of her crutches against the wooden bench. Her hands immediately massaged her injured thigh.

“What are you doing here?”

“There are stairs to the visitors’ locker room, and I really needed to pee. Can you believe they built this building for like, healthy people? There are stairs everywhere.” 

“I meant…” Lexa pointed at Clarke’s whole deal, and differently from Lexa, the other player didn’t wear a uniform or a windbreaker, just a hoodie with her university’s colors.

“Pulled muscle. Bad enough to knock me out. I didn’t want the sponsors to see me with the crutches.” Clarke nodded in the direction of the plastic supports. Lexa noticed a bright blue athletic tape poking out from Clarke’s joggers all the way to her lower abs visible under the hoodie. Her cheeks flushed, and when she looked up, Clarke smirked at her.

“How did it happen?” Lexa cleared her throat, ignoring the way blue eyes went up and down her body.

“Not as hilariously as the block that took you down,” Clarke said with a shit-eating grin that Lexa wanted to wipe off.

“That was a fault!”

“Sure, babe.” Clarke adjusted in her seat, massaging her thigh again. “I’m sorry you can’t play tonight. I was looking forward to destroying you.”

That made Lexa smile. “In your dreams, Griffin.”

“Oh, but my dreams about you are quite different, Lex.”

And there she was. Griffin always played the mind game to destabilize Lexa. Whispers on the court, faces from the bench; Lexa hated it. She also felt a little joy in it, but ultimately, Clarke Griffin was a distraction.

“I’m sorry you’re missing the game, too,” Lexa said, unsure if her face showed her reaction to Clarke’s comment. By the way Clarke lounged on the bench and shifted closer, Lexa must have blushed.

“It was a good run,” Clarke said.

“You don’t think you can win?” 

Clarke snorted. “Do you?”

“I trust my teammates,” Lexa said and crossed her arms. If Griffin didn’t have any loyalty to her team, that was her problem.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling—” the thin hairs on Lexa’s neck bristled at the pet name — “I love those bitches. But I dragged a bunch of future dentists and teachers to two final fours. You have other girls making draft picks in your team while I average astonishing zero bench points every game.”

“But you’ll be the first draft pick.” The truth rolled out easily on Lexa’s tongue, and she suppressed the bite of jealousy at the thought. 

“And you’ll be second, unless they go insane.”

And here they were, top two draft picks dusting in the locker room while the semi-final roared above them.

Lexa shrugged, running a hand over her loose hair. Her usual braid or ponytail was a no-go with her headache, and her hair kept falling into her eyes. “If I get top four, I’ll be happy.”

“You will.” There was certainty in Clarke’s voice. “We are one of the lucky ones.”

“I know.” There was no hiding the struggle of women’s basketball. Sure, the league had promise and potential, but it was a shadow of the sponsorship and compensation of the men’s league. With limited teams, getting a spot as a professional was already an achievement.

“So, can you help me back to my locker room, princess?” Clarke asked, pointing to her crutches. Heat rose to Lexa’s cheeks, and she crossed her arms.

“Why are you always like this?”

Clarke, halfway to standing, sat back down on the bench. “Like what?”

“Why are you so, so…” Lexa searched for a word, but unwelcomed suggestions jumped to the front of her mind like “hot” and “sexy”, and she ended up going with, “infuriating! Why do you flirt with other players only to mess with their game?”

Clarke huffed, an unusual pink dusting her cheeks. “I don’t flirt with other players.”

“You’ve been pretending to flirt with me in every game for a year!” Lexa didn’t know she needed to vent about something tonight, but Clarke gave her the opening she needed.

“Wait, wait,” Clarke said, raising her hands in surrender. “One, I don’t do that to other players. Two, I mostly do it with you because I know it won’t affect your game. I need to have something against your resolve, and flirting with a straight girl is harmless enough. Besides, you’re hot, Lex. Wow, why don’t you react like this on the court?”

Lexa’s cheeks burned, and she rolled her eyes. Once she stepped on the court, nothing else mattered and Lexa would be hyper-focused on the game. But tonight, not being under the spotlight and off her game, Lexa was not immune to Griffin’s tongue. Compliments—Griffin’s compliments! She needed to change this line of thought.

“What on earth have I done for you to think I’m straight?” Maybe that wasn’t the correct shift in the conversation. Clarke lit up like a Christmas tree, her mouth opening for a second, then closing again, settling on a half smile.

“You never reacted to me before.” Clarke’s voice was a full octave lower, and Lexa might be in trouble. Lexa swallowed and fidgeted with her jacket zipper. “And maybe, yeah, I’ve been flirting with you not only because of the games,” Clarke confessed, the heat in her cheeks darkening.

Was Clarke flirting with her again?

“I was kind of hoping you’d be able to play tonight,” Clarke continued, “so I could watch you all night instead.”

Yes, that was flirting, Lexa’s concussed brain detected. She didn’t move as Clarke shuffled closer, their thighs touching.

“I tried to find you early on, but all your teammates were wearing braids,” Lexa said. At 21, Lexa should have a better control of her mouth, but alas, there she was confessing her charms to her rival.

“They wanted to show me support.” Clarke’s voice was close, and closer still as she said, “So you were looking for me?” But the expected grin or tease was not behind her words. Lexa gathered the rest of her courage and chanced a glance at the fellow point guard, finding nothing but… admiration?

Kiss her, Lexa’s obviously concussed brain offered, and Lexa’s heart race in adrenaline as she ignored the thought.

“You’re the best player,” Lexa reasoned, swallowing as Clarke invaded her personal space. “Of course I look for you on the court.”

“Well,” Clarke said, and her hand, a tad larger than Lexa’s, reached for Lexa’s own. “I look for you outside of the court, too. I watched the video on your channel about your work against bullying in your town’s high school. That was inspiring.”

Lexa’s heart swelled with something akin to fondness, but she blamed that on the concussion. “Thank you.” Lexa whispered, the moment asking for softness.

“You, Lexa Woods”—Clarke’s large hand closed around Lexa’s, warm and steady—“You are inspiring.”

It wasn’t every day that the league MVP said she was inspiring.

Kiss, kiss, her brain supplied.

Lexa didn’t have to wait for her body to listen to her brain. Clarke was MVP for many reasons, and not hesitating was one of them.

The kiss was soft and warm, and Clarke’s hand tugged lightly at Lexa’s neck. For the first time that day, Lexa breathed easily. It lasted a moment, as Clarke showed to be dexterous with her tongue, and then Lexa was breathless.

“My team will be here at half-time,” Lexa whispered when Clarke finally, reluctantly, pulled away.

“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to kiss me again?”

Lexa wished she could say no to that smile, but she was learning that denying that smile was harder than to block Clarke’s 3 pointers.

“It means we can’t do it here,” Lexa said.

“I’m staying in town for an orthopedic appointment tomorrow morning. You could always stop by my hotel later tonight.” Clarke reached for her clutches and stood. 

“My team will want me around after the game.”

Clarke smiled, one eyebrow raised. “Would you rather be in a noisy bar with your team celebrating, or watching the British Bake Off with me while making out on a king bed?”

Lexa’s cheeks warmed. “The British Bake Off?”

Clarke made her way out of the locker room, slow and steady. “We can watch it on mute, which helps with your headache, and watching it always makes me… hungry.” Clarke delivered the last word over her shoulders, licking her lips for extra dramatic effect. Lexa felt her face heating as Clarke limped out of the room.

Hours later, Lexa’s team had gained their place at the final. Her headache was under control, and her utmost satisfaction had nothing to do with the chocolate cake they ordered from the 24h hotel service.

#a couple weeks late but here it is #loved this prompt #drabble #drabbles #the 100 #clexa #lexa the 100 #clarke the 100 #why not make out with chocolate cake watching the british bake off? #sounds reasonable #clarke is a cocky little shit because why not

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

Syzygy: Some Closing Thoughts

I'm writing this at 8pm on my backyard porch, under the wavering light of a distant full moon.  Hello, moon! Please don't kidnap me. I just wanted to hang out with you for a while as I collect my final thoughts. It's a pretty cloudy night tonight, so it's not properly visible, which I suppose is the cloud cover shielding me from a terrible lunar fate. It gives a deliciously hazy atmosphere for the absolute essay I'm about to write.

Apparently, the Farmer's Almanac says that tonight's full moon is a 'Pink Moon', which sounds like it'd be a very pleasant viewing experience. I imagine pastel frangipanis spontaneously sprouting all over the moon's surface, covering every inch of its rocks and crags until the soft pink glow is visible from all the way down here on Earth. Unfortunately it's not named 'Pink Moon' because of that; there's some American environmental factors, etc.

I think it's kind of charming that there's a list of names for every possible full moon, as if the moon's putting on different masks or incarnations every time it tilts just enough that we can see its full face. I'm looking at a list of them now instead of writing these final notes like I probably should. The names are so delightful. Strawberry Moon. Sturgeon Moon. Apparently last month's full moon was Worm Moon. WORM MOON. I could go on. I won't. Let's talk about Syzygy instead.

Syzygy is... Man, where do I even start with this? Let's try the beginning. I started writing Syzygy in February of 2021, after ruminating on it for probably a few months before that, as I often do. That's three years ago, so my memories of the reasons why are a bit fuzzy, but I think I did it for two reasons: one, a desire to have a long-form meaty slowburn fic for a beloved rarepair in the tag so other people could enjoy it, and two, a fascination with the idea of fractured identity, what it means to be a Side without a Centre. The whole thing with the alternate-history steampunk swapped-around Earth came about naturally from that.

Except that's actually kind of a lie, because that's not the beginning, this began in 2020, when I wrote a pitch for a local station that was accepting radio play submissions (rejected, of course) featuring a hardboiled noir detective in a starlit city whose latest client was a tiny shiny girl asking him to solve her father's murder. And that's also a lie, because I think it really began when I tried to write an original novel in high school where the protagonist's name was Avery Allen, because I liked the way the name tripped off my lips.

My stories are always built on each other, especially stories I never get to write. They all recycle into each other in a weird blend of concepts and characters. 2021 was when I sat down and told myself I was going to write the Thomceit time loop fic, and I dove into it with aplomb. I can't recall the exact timeline of events, but at some point I underwent some truly gnarly health problems that left me unable to use my hands for extended periods of time, and so the fic that was meant to be for a Big Bang ended up... Just sitting in a folder for a while. But me and my beta managed to pull it the fuck together, and after adding some extra bits and pieces (the cutaways were a LAST MINUTE ADDITION even though I think they're some of my favorite bits in the whole thing) I started putting it all up.

Okay, there we go, that's enough of an abridged history of this thing. Let's just say: I never expected as many people to like it as it turned out, I thought that it would be a niche little fic for a rarepair, and I was honestly pretty content with that. So it was delightful to see so many people getting so into it, I have enjoyed the FUCK out of all of your comments and theories and predictions. It's been delightful when people predicted a plot point correctly, and honestly even more delightful when they predicted incorrectly. I've had such a blast.

As for the writing... Suffice to say I have many notebooks full of notes and thoughts, more than one spreadsheet to keep track of time loops and lore, and a semi-complete list of all of Virgil's tarot cards, which one day I'll probably polish and share properly, because I think the concept is neat. But that's kind of how it always goes with my writing.

Naming every inspiration for this would take forever and I'd still miss a few, but I'll just throw out a key few ones, because I gotta:

17776: What Will Football Look Like In The Future, because when I first read it I got the wrong idea and thought that Juice (Jupiter Icy Moons Explorer) was short for Betelgeuse (the star), and that sparked a whole thing about living stars in my brain. Also, just the general way that the worldbuilding and absurdity is handled in that world, it scratches my brain just right.

Welcome To Night Vale. I don't think I need to explain this one.

Madeleine L'Engle's writing, particularly A Wind In The Door, particularly-particularly the bit of it where Proginoskes explains why, precisely, he has to remember and Name every star in the universe. Fucking beautiful book.

A particular Untamed/Mo Dao Zu Shi fic I read years ago and haven't been able to track down again, which also features two people stuck in a time loop who are initially unaware that they're in it together AND dying at the same time. I believe they also meet on a bus? The details are fuzzy. The worldbuilding and descriptions of that fic were so stunning to me, it had me unable to read anything for a solid few weeks, it is definitely a superior work to mine in every respect. If anyone finds it, let me know, I don't think I finished reading it and want to know how it ends.

An unpublished fic that I had the privilege to read while it was being written, that changed my brain chemistry re: the Sides unknowingly existing without Thomas. The Flowerwall Cafe originally hails from this one, too, graciously borrowed and greatly beloved.

Both Ghibli films in general AND Dianna Wynne Jones books in general, and obviously the intersection between the two, Howl's Moving Castle, which is fascinating in how both mediums handle the setting.

The Doctor Who audio drama Scherzo, which is a wild ride, and there's a major plot point revolving around the two main characters holding hands and fusing gruesomely into each other - and another involving an in-story fairy tale.

There was no huge inspiration for the clockwork city and weird steampunk carriages, apart from (perhaps) Fallen London. Certainly, the idea of a background organization that wants to kill the sun, who also happens to be a sentient being, is cribbed from the Liberation of Night.

Syzygy also happens to be packed full of many obscure references to... like... personal projects of mine, some published and some unpublished, as well as a lot of my friends and co-writers, and some really REALLY niche stuff that only I will ever properly understand. I buried a lot of myself into this story, is what I'm saying. Juice hails from a completely different project (a TTRPG with my friends, of which she is a beloved and cherished NPC), the in-universe author for Avery Allen (and Mallory Wynn too) are named for a fictional TV author I created when the writing discord was making a nonexistent fandom, Logan's dumpling recipe is my favorite recipe of all time.

I have an apartment ghost, too. I talk to it regularly.

Final thank-yous, because I want to post this very very soon, I've been typing for too long and the mosquitoes are starting to get to me. Thank you to:

Everyone on the TSS writing server who listened to me complain while I was writing it the first time round, and has subsequently listened to me complain while editing it these past two years. So many people in there are responsible for little bits and pieces - phrasings, words, nicknames, jokes - and I couldn't begin to name everyone who helped.

Saphira and the rest of the people who are currently working on making a full-cast audio drama out of this fic (???) (???!!!!??) (!!!!). It is SO baffling to me that it's happening, I'm in complete disbelief whenever we talk about it or I see the script or I get asked logistics questions, I'm terrified and thrilled to see how it turns out, what the fuck! The very existence of that project has ended up influencing a few things about this fic's endgame, too.

Everyone who's commented extensively, commented entire academic analyses, commented numbered lists, commented laconically, left a single emoji in the comments, left kudos, bookmarked it, sent me asks on Tumblr, given me thumbs-ups on Discord, or even just silently read the fic without interacting at all. Your witness brings my words to existence. Love you love you love you.

And Len, who lives in my brain and my body and my heart and my throat, and who is honestly singlehandedly responsible for dragging this fic out of the depths of Google Docs and into the arms of AO3. They've already said I don't need to thank them, but come on, I totally do. Len is the best beta, and puts up with all sorts of deranged nonsense from me, because I have an unhinged writing process where I don't think about anything before I put it down on the page, and I use way too many connecting-dashes and not enough semicolons. Kisses kisses kisses. Thanks for doing this with me, and I can't wait to do it again.

Myself. I managed to write this and I managed to finish it. That makes me a pretty cool person, all things considered. I'm glad I did this.

What next? I've got to rest. Well, I need to get some things done... and then rest. I've been juggling a hellish amount of projects for a while now, and now Syzygy's finally cleared from my plate, I'm going to try to let the others get cleared too so I can take some time and be less stressed. The Locked Tomb AU will be ongoing, as I get through final edits of chapters, so keep an eye out for that - if you're interested in a fic that's rather less starry and shiny, but very much Thomceit and death themes, check it out  - and then....... Well, whatever comes next, whenever I have the energy to do it. I adore writing in this fandom. I'll be back with something weird soon enough.

Ad astra, baby! It's been a blast.

- Min (2024)

#Syzygy #author's note