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fenharel · 8 months

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saskia i am on my hands and knees begging for some ysabel info! what’s her backstory? what’s she like during the game? she’s so 🥰💖

[PERSONALITY]

Ysabel is a noble, Lolth Sworn Drow, living in Menzoberrazan and is a School of Divination Wizard

Shes an chaotic neutral ENTP, Gemini, 125 years old and 1.60m tall

Ysabel is creative and intelligent, mischievous and cunning. Some perceive her as quirky, eccentric - funny, confident with a giant ego, but also power hungry and selfish, sometimes cruel. She has always been full of ideas, always thinking of new and better ways to do things. She’s always been curious, more often than not you find her with her nose stuck in a book. Her childhood bedroom was exploding with books about fungi or tomes like “The past and present: a Scholars Guide to Divination”.

She’s also rather extroverted and a social chameleon, excellent at manipulation and persuasion, something her mother often took advantage of, as she would often use her children like chess pieces in her political affairs.

[BACKSTORY]

The noble house of Do’Rahel is one of the 8 powerful houses in Menzoberranzan

Ysi has two older sisters (Yris, Yvory) and one younger brother (Ysmael, my warlock charlatan & very first D&D oc 😘)

Their mother (Yaelryn Do’Rahel) is a matron mother, a priestess of Lolth and a powerful and influential figure in Menzoberrazan’s affairs

As most intelligent people are prone to, Ysabel was more questioning of things like societal norms or rules and ideas than what was socially acceptable in the Cult of Lolth, something her mother often reminded her of through whipping. But her mother was also more progressive than some would believe - when her daughter showed more interest in the arcane than continuing her training as a cleric she encouraged it. She thought that having one of her daughters in the circle of the Sorcere was something that could be beneficial to her.

After a particularly nasty ambush on Ysabel (your regular weekend in the Underdark really) her mother assigned one of their warriors as her personal guard - a tiefling slave called Lucien (Side note but he’ll be romancing Shadowheart in a future playthrough 🤓)

Lucien was in his early twenties and enslaved for around 5 years at the time, he was passionate and charming, warm and strong. But he was also as cunning as he was kind. Ysabel liked him, and often would spend more time with him than was strictly necessary. He had Ysabel figured out quickly, and noticed that traits in her that might be weaknesses in her mothers eyes, could be his opportunity. That growing close to her could be his ticket to get free.

But things didn't necessarily work out for him at first as he would have thought - both of them fell in love.

He would tell her stories of his previous life, about his ideals and morals, about the world above. How children do not fear for their life where he is from, how parents love their children unconditionally, how he missed feeding the neighbors ducks before he would go to school. Ysi would laugh at him sometimes, call him weak and soft. But sometimes she would indulge in his stories. Catching herself thinking of them in bed before she go meditating. How strange it must be to live so truly carefree.

The influence Lucien had on her was undeniable. Small and meaningless at first maybe but there nonetheless. There were glimpses of true kindness in Ysabel only he got to see. Glimpses of love - real love, not just the craving for flesh or power he was accustomed to from other Drow. He saw that he had shaken her morals and beliefs, slightly perhaps, but shaken. So when she finally wanted to set him free out of her own volition, instead of running when his binding spell was broken he asked for her to come with him.

She helped him to stage his own death and broke his bonds and let him go, but she didn’t go with him. This would be a turning point in her life, something she regretted for the rest of her existence, something she kept thinking about for years on end.

For many years after, she buried herself in her tower. She never dared to think of why she said no, instead she sat in front of her mirror of memories, where she relived the time she had with Lucien. But in doing so, a part of herself, the past party in fact, was lost in it. Her present self was split in half. She was either overly good or overly evil, and she became known for being mad and for research and experiments that were even extreme by Drow standards.

She was in this state for at least 60 years. She had short periods of time where she managed to stabilize herself through experiments, but it never worked for long. Nevertheless, she made a name for herself, she was an extremely powerful wizard, was considered one of the masters of Sorcere and had a place in their council. (Much to their dismay. Assassination attempts from her colleagues were a daily occurrence tbh.)

[GAME TIMELINE]

House Do’Rahel was infiltrated by Absolute cultists, leading to the almost death of her sisters Yris and Yvory, and the losing a handful of their staff members. Ysabel's mother also heard rumors of similar things happening in House Baenre and other houses all over the city. Sensing a bigger plot, instead of sending warbands like her colleagues, she only send Ysabel and a handful of warriors on a scouting mission. She was to gather as much information as possible. If she would see an opportunity beneficial to them - she should take it, and most importantly she was also to kill or capture any heretic or deserter of Lolth.

The trail they followed led them to the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. She didn’t know it at the time but she was on her way to Moonrise Towers when she was abducted. When she woke up in the Nautiloid, the tadpole didn’t just strip her of her powers, but also stabilized her mind.

Being fully herself again after so long felt like having someone forcefully pushing a heart back into her. At the beginning of her journey she’s manipulative (she does a lot of the “heroic” options not because she thinks it’s the right thing to do, but because she thinks it’s a smarter way to uncover what is going on and/or because working with the Absolute would go against Lolth), she’s also selfish and a bit cruel, but a lot of things she does suddenly don’t feel the same to her anymore, and an top of that the problem with the tadpole - it forces her into introspection.

At some point she realizes that her companions remind her of Lucien, and the time she had with him. Her development throughout the game mainly consists of her realizing that she rather wants love and friendship than pure ruthless power. She develops a consciousness, empathy. Something Lucien already built the groundwork of so many years ago. She realizes she was too much of a coward back then, that she couldn't let go of all that power and desert Lolth even though that's what she really wanted. Surrounded by her new friends, she doesn’t want to make the same mistake again. In her mind, she’ll never be truly good, much less a hero. But she doesn’t want to be what she used to be either. Seeing real friendship, love, experiencing it for herself, she realizes the only times she wasn't hollow was with Lucien - and now, with them.

Her new friends act as mirrors to herself as well. She sees herself in Gale when he gets obsessed over the Crown, she sees herself in Astarion when he’s willing to kill all his former friends for power. And she sees herself in Lae’zel, Wyll & Shadowheart when it comes to the influence a God, Goddess or devil can have on you. They were all on the path she already walked on, and the guilt she is carrying with her over things she can’t change anymore is overwhelming, so she stops them all, helps them see what is truly important.

About the reason she was in Baldur’s Gate in the first place, she isn’t honest with her companions at first, she has obviously her own agenda like everyone else in that camp. She was forced to explain herself by Wyll when she let True Soul Nere kill the Gnomes. Having a tadpole in her head made everything more personal of course, she starts going against the Absolute not in the name of Lolth or for her mother but for herself and her own beliefs in Act 2.

After the game, her mind is still hers. Going through so much change and admitting her biggest fears repaired herself, like a curse she casted and then lifted on herself. Also, she and Astarion guide the Vampire spawn in the Underdark for a while, and she also researches for ways to make Astarion walk in the sun again (and I like to headcanon that she succeeds :3)

If you want to take a peak, here is Ysabels pinterest 🥺, and since i mentioned Lucien, here is his'.

#shadowglens #answered #thank you for enabling me sophie. i wanted to post an info dumb for so long but im such a lazy mf #im leaving kisses on ur forehead but im also running away in fear. god i already cut this down but it's still so long IM SO SORRY 😭#you: whats her backstory; me: here is my essay. kdjfslkjflsf #ysabel do'rahel #ocs tag #bg3 spoilers #lucien lovera #& yes u guessed right. jekyll & hyde was my inspiration for her Lul. also redemption arcs are my unguilty pleasure :3 #idk if i was really able to explain it but ysi's biggest flaws are cowardice and stagnation???#having a damn mindflayer worm in her brain gave her finally the kick in the butt to be honest with herself #i think even if her mind would have stayed intact she would still have stayed in the underdark. she just would have been unhappier about it #or worse. however u wanna call it #oh side note but she was neutral evil before the lucien times. then become somewhat CN (then was split into chaotic good/chaotic evil.)#her current desposition is chaotic neutral. just to clarify since it might sound weird

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such-a-fellow · 1 year

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You can't just drop "oh my queer theory read of Breaking Bad" and then not elaborate

Oh I will gladly elaborate! This is mostly compiled from thoughts I had while discussing Breaking Bad with my partner while I watched it for the first time recently. [NOTE: this is VERY LONG and disjointed, it ended up being almost a whole shittily structured essay. I have no idea if it makes any sense and I have edited nothing. bear with me.] anyway, i am so sorry, but here you go:

Because Breaking Bad is such a conventional tragedy with Walt's relationships (and how he wrecks them) as the series' emotional core, it's easy to read into the "why" of the choices he makes and consider if other unseen factors could contribute to his whole.......everything. Walt sucks, right? He's shitty and snappish at best and manipulative and abusive to the point of literal murder at worst towards pretty much everyone in his life; his enemies, his associates, Jesse, his kids, and most centrally Skyler, are CONSTANTLY on the receiving end of this stupid man's destructive spiral and rancid personality. Obviously, nothing excuses the depths the guy descends to, but his surface motivations are simple enough. He's terminally ill! His career has fizzled to a depressing dead end! He has an accidental baby on the way! Being embittered by the run-of-the-mill suckiness of him and his family's circumstances has led him to chase this grand unattainable ideal of perfect, conventional family life that he never can really achieve. The harder he tries to force his life into that perfect shape, the more he hurts those around him.

This is the first point of my idea that reading Walt as a closeted, very unhappily unaware bisexual can add a really interesting depth to the show. It would be easy to interpret Walt as gay and miserably closeted. He’s dissatisfied, he CLEARLY isn’t really in love with his wife, and he keeps pursuing this life of crime represented by the men he's caught up with (Jesse and Gus in particular). However, I think that simply reading him as gay misses an opportunity for extra complexity. Textually, Walt is caught between two lives and is never satisfied with either. No amount of money or accomplishment is ever enough for him. His white picket fence delusions and insistence that he loves Skyler even though it's extremely clear that what he loves is the idea of Skyler is one side of the coin. That's the ideal of conventional heterosexuality, which he always falls short of. The other side of the coin is his fight for power in the criminal world and his attraction to men, which I think is best analyzed through his all-consuming jealousy of the power and perfect security of Gus, who is known to be gay, and his relationship with the heavily queer-coded Gale.

This is mostly symbolic/subtextual interpretation, but again bear with me. In my mind, the narrative of Theoretical Bisexual Walt goes something like this: Walt begins to realize he's attracted to men through his initial partnership with Jesse. That relationship, however based in manipulation and overall shittiness, is one that Walt is drawn to because he sees Jesse as a gateway to the criminal world he wants to enter. It’s also his gateway to this new possibility of attraction which he had never considered and cannot avoid, even if he doesn’t want to confront it. Indeed, he's only forced to confront it later, specifically when Gale (artistic, scientific, opera-loving Gale) extends a hand of understanding to him. Gale is happy and content! HE has reconciled any parts of his life that might be disjointed. He deeply admires Walt, and openly presents him with the promise of friendship or more. Central to this, obviously, is his close association with the poetry of Walt Whitman and gift of Whitman’s Leaves of Grass to Walt. Walt Whitman is believed by most scholars to have been bisexual, as evidenced both by the relationships he had in life and by his poetry where he praises the beauty of men and women alike. The lightness and freedom and wonder at the universe expressed in the tones of his poetry fits Gale perfectly, and this is what Gale is offering Walt. Choosing to reject Gale is ultimately the thread which unravels Walt entirely in the end, because he’s rejecting not only Gale but any option to find joy in his new work beyond what money it can make him. This extends, in my opinion, to rejecting anything positive he could gain from his attraction to men.

As Walt is going through this slow realization, part of what drives him to despair is his persistent belief that what he really wants is still the same secure, middle-class, heterosexual family life with Skyler. More specifically, the thought that if he is attracted to men, then he cannot possibly HAVE that. This is why I like to analyze him as bisexual rather than gay; the way he can’t be happy anywhere at all, with either part of his life, is at its most complex and tragic when (like the Walt on the surface of the show) he absolutely could have had both if he hadn’t pushed so hard, if he hadn’t been so selfishly caught up in his own tragedy. If Walt is bi and accepts that, he CAN be happy! However, as we know all too well, Walt is a narrow-minded disaster. Internalized homophobia compounded with his “main character syndrome” hold him back from even trying to give himself space to explore his newfound attraction. Throughout this section of the story Walt is clinging harder and harder to that crumbling façade of happy heterosexuality. He’s more and more abusive towards Skyler and refuses to cooperate when she tries to divorce him. He even flounders through a lame attempt to have a heterosexual revenge fling when she cheats on him. I’d hesitate to reduce this to compulsory heterosexuality, because I think any percieved choice between the two here is entirely in Walt’s mind. To Walt, everything is binary. He can have a family life without deception and die in obscurity, OR he can stop at nothing to become the world’s most powerful druglord. He can be attracted to men OR he can be in a happy straight marriage. Like I’ve said, this is NOT a man who could ever concieve of both. This is where Gus becomes a bigger factor in Walt’s terrible horrible no good very bad sexuality crisis.

To even things out and to really drive home trajectory he’s set himself on, Gus has Gale killed. I think there’s definitely a portion of this that is escalated by the presence of Gus in Walt’s mind. Gus is everything Walt wishes he was in more ways than one. He’s rich, powerful, successful, clever. He carries himself with awe-inspiring gravitas. Now, as the audience learns, Gus’ primary motivation in becoming all of those things is vengeful grief over his lover’s murder. It is made clear to the audience in Breaking Bad (and expanded upon in Better Call Saul) that Gus is gay. For this unaccepting Bisexual Walt, the presence of this man who he percieves as above him in power and influence and who is also perfectly obviously gay and entirely secure in that is completely impossible to cope with. He’s past the point of letting himself consider options here, of course. He is jealous of Gus. All-consumingly jealous, just as he’s jealous of the Schwartzs’ wealth and happy marriage. Walt’s drive to remove Gus from the picture, then, becomes a conflation of not only his lust for power, but also of his self-imposed sexuality impasse.

In the end, the discovery of Gale’s Leaves of Grass gift—that quiet, friendly offer to Walt from a man who understood a part of him that he could never bring himself to try and confront—is what undoes the whole charade.

#anon i am SO sorry #i only know how to explain this by writing the damn thing out as an essay #breaking bad #anon #please excuse this MESS oh my god

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scranbatteries · 4 months

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best memory of 2023 was seeing bears in trees live (i talked to iain after) (by talked i mean more "WOW YOUR MUSIC IS SO COOL YOURE SO COOL KEEP DOING MUSIC PLEASE" sorry)

#they were the first of three openers and thats the best cos im not exhausted #turned up halfway through the set on accident which im a bit upset about but i was still! happy!#remember running into the venue halfway through kind love like “oh my god bears in trees”#it is 3am i need to go to sleep #like when they mentioned hit time 3am in hit song 4am by bears in trees ???#bears in trees #they were doing support for you me at six #ALSO my friend was like “WE ONLY CAME FOR YOU” which was a LIE because i also came for waterparks and ymas . sorry to the maine #writing a full essay in these tags jesus christ #anyway bears in trees make me happy this is why they are one of my favourite bands #i like when bands make me feel things #like how title fight make me feel all sad and shit #idk #im gonna shut up now byeee #ALSO i just remembered i walked past george and nick but i didnt talk to them cos i was too scared lmao #iain noticed my bears in trees shirt and that's why ! we talked ! but it was mainly ! me saying words ! like “oh my god iain #from bears in trees“#actually shutting up now #character limit be damned

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satoruhour · 7 months

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please do car sex w gojo where after a date reader couldn’t hold back!!

a/n: short one !!!!!sorry sorry just like that week ive got two essays due and im a little panicky! pls bear w/ me as uploads will be slow ty :")

warnings: fem!reader, playful banter (it’s becoming a thing w/ my gojo smuts idk why), handjob, oral (m! receiving), like one (1) spank, fingering, little prep, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

you’re not sure about why gojo looked so damn good today. you could attribute it to the fact that you haven’t seen your boyfriend in at least two weeks or the fact that he’s abandoned his jujutsu uniform for a formal suit. but you’re equally as dressed to the nines as him, visiting a quiet but delicious restaurant on the top floor of a mall.

“any reason why you’re so quiet, sweets?” satoru always could pick up on your silences and your mannerisms; being together all through high-school, at both his and your lowest, through taking care of megumi and tsumiki does that to him. the squeeze of our thigh is a question enough, done more for comforting you, though, and not for the dirty, dirty reasons you’re thinking about.

satoru bathes in the red light of the traffic crossing, and you think he simply looks stunning in the fitted suit and tie, blindfold exchanged for his signature glasses and his blue eyes that are so blue they shine over the stop light.

you bite your lip, turning in your seat slightly and grabbing his hand, heart jumping when it wraps around your smaller one — and he smiles at your reaction.

“nothing.” you hide a grin badly, getting one in return when you reach over his slacks, hand creeping up his thigh and getting closer and closer to his centre. he already knows you need not comfort, but rather something else, letting you give his hardening bulge one last squeeze before red turns green and your pout is the cutest thing ever. “damn.”

gojo steps on the gas and you’re forced to sit properly in the passenger seat, hearing a boisterous laugh from beside you, but he’s not exactly a law-abiding citizen either. he tugs on your hand, placing it on his hard-on and grinds into your hand, pins and needles forming in his hands from how hard he was grabbing onto the steering wheel.

“can’t keep my baby waiting, can i?” it’s said breathlessly, a smirk on his face that switches between its smug look and a face of pleasure. soft whines leave satoru’s mouth as you palm it, eyes fixating on the way the strongest sorcerer melts at your touch.

at the second red light, your hands are already tugging at his zipper, prompting pleas from your boyfriend. he sighs when you‘re fishing out his cock, pretty pink with an angry tip that’s leaking pre-cum, and when you start stroking — you can thank god that there’s no cars waiting at the traffic light with you.

gojo has a hand under your chin affectionately, eyes boring into yours that are starting to falter under your hand. it strokes his cock, squeezing and releasing, making sure all of his length gets your attention. the pleasured flutter of his eyelashes are the prettiest, a whimper escaping his lips that sends a spark right down to your cunt.

“oh f-fuck— your hands are so w-warm . .” there’s a crack in his voice and he breaks from your eye contact to lean back against the seats. your hands pump him slowly, enjoying the sensual moment until a honk from behind you surprises both of you and gojo screams, hitting his head on the roof of his car.

“ow— fuck!” gojo tsks, ignoring your giggles before he gets back to driving, “the other lanes are unoccupied, idiot!”

gojo, in classic gojo fashion, points his thumb and says can you believe that guy? like a suburban dad, shaking his head and sighing and forgetting his whole dick is out until you’re bending over the stick shift, engulfing his tip in your mouth.

your boyfriend chuckles, a twinkle in his eye as he looks down at you, “impatient little girl, aren’t you?” you only hum, preening at the hand that strokes your hair, aiding you but never really forcing you down as he drives at a leisurely pace. gojo grunts out when you run a tongue up the underside of his cock, other hand playing with his balls. his fingers tense momentarily on your head, before they move down your back, cupping your ass and you moan around his shaft.

“i’m surprised you didn’t drag me into the bathroom to fuck.” he speaks through laboured pants, earning a soft glare from you as you continue to bob your head.

“there was only— mmhff— one stall . .”

“wouldn’t have stopped me.”

you bite down gently on his dick as a warning and he yelps and laughs, surrendering with repeated okay’s. you feel his thigh move below you, speeding up to his penthouse when you’re holding tight onto his legs, steering wheel bumping into your head ever so often.

“o—oh . . baby, baby,” gojo groans out, pulling the car to a harsh stop and yet you’re not stopping, slobbering over his cock while the twist of your back starts to ache. but the sounds your boyfriend makes is just too hot, sucking in your cheeks more and going for the hilt. you bury your face in his pubes, gagging a little at his sheer length.

“shit, shit, shiiit . .” the gurgling sounds resonate throughout the car, interrupted briefly when the hand on your ass slips past the slit of your dress, going right to where your panties should be.

gojo breathlessly laughs, “no panties?” a spank to your ass and you’re wide-mouthed over his slick cock, pussy clenching around nothing.

“dirty whore.”

you click your tongue with a wink, moaning when his fingers tease the tight ring of your entrance and you’re forgetting all about your job when his fingers enter from behind.

“probably don’t even need prep — so fucking wet.”

you hum in response, sitting back up and climbing right into the comfort of his back seat. you’re too far gone to care when you start stripping, pulling the single garment of clothing off your body and gojo gapes at your lack of a bra too.

“was i just too amazed with the food?” he aaks himself more than you, but the endearing question brings a giggle out of you, making you violently gesture for him to just get in the back seat, already.

he follows you, as he would anywhere, lips meeting yours in a soft kiss, “clearly you wanted me to initiate . . i will be a better boyfriend, prommy.”

you pull away to make a face, “satoru, please never say prommy in your life ever again.”

“whhyyyyy?” now he’s just whining to annoy you, pulling him right into your face and spreading your legs. there’s a mixture of playfulness and desperation in your tone, hips humping the air at the lack of contact.

“please just fuck me, satoru.”

gojo gives you a sweet kiss, positioning himself right at your dripping cunt. he’s focused on pushing past your tightness, throbbing tip just nudging into your walls and satoru sighs—

“since my sweet girl’s asked so nicely . . gladly,” the height of the seats are perfect for gojo, bottoming out in you and moaning so loud the next neighbour over could probably hear you, “you’re so— tight, mmfuck—”

gojo finds a pace, head tilted to right where your bodies connect just to watch himself slip in and out of you. you’re entranced, too, just with the beauty of your boyfriend’s face as his brows pull together and his mouth hangs open.

“sa— satoru . . g-god,” you’re dragging him closer into you with your legs, locking behind his back as his hips continue to drive into your tight pussy. you’re so pliant, juices coating his cock so easily that he has no problem thrusting into you. “o—oh, pleaseplease—”

gojo props a leg up, ramming his hips deeper into you and the periodic twitches of his dick makes your pussy flutter, hips stuttering when you call out his name in such a sweet tone it’s got him wondering whether you were an angel instead.

“angel — fuck me — you feel so damn good . .”

“think— it’s the other way ’round,” a chuckle weasels its way out of satoru’s lips at your cheeky comment, bumping foreheads with yours gently as he holds his stare with yours.

“silly g-girl . .” your hands wrap around his neck at that, coaxing him into another deep kiss, moaning into his mouth and the way his body jerks into yours is just so cute. his tie is discarded, your dress is on the floor of the car and his hair is everywhere and you like gojo the best like this: dishevelled and messy, in love with you like always and he would happily be like this all the time if he could.

the sheer pistoning of his hips is so strong that the car is probably shaking, skin against skin and your dripping pussy that wraps around him so good that he can’t hold on any longer, muttering into your lips. his hand reaches down to rub at your clit, sending your body into little shockwaves into his hold.

“princess, i’m gonna—” he groans into your mouth, betrayed by his own body before his hips stammer and he’s cumming deep in you, spilling his seed deep into your waiting cunt and his eyes roll back. he has no chance of recovering when you’re reaching your high soon after, clenching so hard around him that his hips continue to buck into you. your brain is only full of satoru, satoru, satoru, whining into his skin as he fills you up.

“s’full . .” you mumble, pulling away drunkenly, meeting his slightly dull ones from his fatigue. “need more.”

your body moves on autopilot, prompting your lover to lie on his back seat without any protests and he welcomes you like clockwork atop him. and when you sink down, you swear you see another shade of blue pop up in his eyes at the sight. there’s a small sigh from gojo when you reach his pelvis, body illuminated by the street lamps and the moonlight. satoru is always in awe of whatever you do—

“that’s my pretty, pretty girl.”

#asks #satorusugurubae #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk gojo #jjk gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jjk thirsts #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen

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ohcaptains · 1 year

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don’t you dare fall in love | 3

pairing. dealer college student! ellie williams x f! reader

PART ONE. PART TWO. MASTERLIST. synopsis. ellie tries her hardest not to mix business with pleasure. or, ellie gets a new customer and unfortunately falls in love with her.

warnings. 18+. blank & ageless blogs will be blocked. clichè comments on sorority girls (sorry), sexually explicit descriptions of female receiving cunnilingus, fondling, fingering, and dry humping. not beta’d.

an. well here ya go! thank u to all those who were so patient and lovely with me<3 to those who weren’t and were mean to me...i’m giving you the nastiest dirty look rn. pls comment and reblog!!!! love u.

When Ellie gets out of her meeting with her personal tutor, she’s just about ready to throw herself down the stairs.

Catapult herself out of the window and perish on the campus floor. That way, she wouldn’t have to rewrite this God. Damn. Essay.

It sucks that she has to do actual work to get her degree, but what sucks even more, is doing the work and being told you’ve done it all wrong.

At first, Ellie was angry. Now, she’s frustrated. Tired. Was up all night writing this essay because she’s been waiting for this meeting for a whole week, and all the man did was say, you’re not actually answering the question.

“Fucking asshole,” she murmurs, pushing through the doors.

She reaches the quiet hallway of the humanities block, the dilapidated building stuffy with age. She misses her uber-funded science building. Misses the cool white and sleek edges. Here, there’s paper covering everything.

The hallways go round and round – lift creaks from the weight of students carrying War and Peace in their backpacks, year after year.

She’s near tears when she hears you calling her name.

“Els?” you ask, tone confused and edged with excitement. Ellie’s heart does its little familiar leap. She turns to you, sniffing the tears away. It’s been a minute since she saw you in the flesh. Her body aches, eager to touch you. “Hey,” she greets, the presence of you brightening her mood for a sweet second. You’re wearing a casual pair of black jeans and a band tee – Ellie owns a similar one, and for a moment, she thinks you’re wearing her shirt. “I was just about to text you –” you start, but your face twists, noticing hers. “You okay?” “Yeah,” Ellie lies. The tears push harder now, your concern making her belly flop.

You frown. “No, you’re not.”

Her lip wobbles.

“Ellie?” “Sorry, just – fuck --” her eyes are rimmed red, tears pushing over the edge. “—had a really shitty meeting with my tutor about my essay that’s worth like, 50% of my grade and I’m so busy with other work and—” a tear slips down her cheek, but you’re quick to take her in your arms, murmuring, “oh, Els,” as you cup her head and pull it into your neck.

She releases a breath, leaning her full weight into your body.

You smell like laundry detergent and coffee. Smell familiar. She’s comfortable here. It’s why she lets herself begin to cry against your shoulder.

“Awh, sweetheart,” you whisper, hands running up and down her back, soothing her like a baby.

“What did the feedback say?” “Have to change the whole thing. And I have enough time, but I have other work.” “Yeah, I can imagine.” “He basically said that if I submit this essay, I’ll fail.” “Well, you won’t, because I’ll hack into the system and change your grade for you.”

Ellie hiccups a laugh, “you know nothing about computers.” “I’ll learn for you. Take some night classes. What’s the essay for?” you ask, still rubbing her back. “English.” “I can help you if you want.” “Yeah?” “Yeah, come to mine. I’ll look through the question with you, and help you plan.”

Ellie pulls away, wiping her wet, red-rimmed eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. You help her, drying the dampness from her chin and cheeks, and smoothing her hair behind her ears.

She beams from your touch. Her body goes hot from your care -- belly flips over.

You hold her shoulders, keeping her steady, and Ellie thanks the Gods you texted her that day. Your smile is resolute as you say, “It’ll be okay. We got this.”

When you open the door to your accommodation, Ellie is mid panic attack. “You live in a sorority?” she squeaks. When you sent her the address earlier, she hadn’t really read it, too busy trying to calm her beating heart. Going to her house going to her house.

Now, she’s standing in front of you, and thinking – this is your house? There’s a teardrop chandelier hanging behind you, and the staircase loops around the entrance hall, feeding into the back of the house.

You frown, confused. “Yeah, did I not tell you?” “No – “Ellie bursts, clearly flustered, “-- you failed to provide me with that information.” She makes a mental note to text Dina, simply – what the fuck, man? “Is it a problem?” you wonder, leaning against the doorframe, comfortable in your home. (Wearing pyjama shorts and a baggy top, you know, comfortable)

You didn’t seem like a sorority girl. But what did that even mean?

You did have a lot of…spirit.

Ellie imagines you hosting mixers and philanthropy events.

(Imagines you wearing a lot of pink and jumpers with your sorority name on it and nothing else.) “I don’t really sell to frats or sororities,” she explains, because, yeah, that’s the reason she’s having a hot moment. She thought she knew a lot about you. This, right here, is a big deal, and yet she’s only now just finding out.

What else did she not know about you? You think for a quick second. “Oh. Well,” you smile, patting your chest, concluding, “I’m the exception,” and you take her hand and pull her in, closing the door behind her.

When Ellie’s in the house, she doesn’t let go of your hand.

Instead, she uses it to tug you closer, and your wrist pushes into her belly. “They let queer girls into sororities?” she whispers, close enough to taste the mint gum you’re chewing.

Ellie has ideas of girls on the straight and narrow. No girl kissing here, unless guys are watching. Ellie cringes at the cliché, but you’re not offended – hadn’t heard her thoughts, so, that would be why – as your lips pull into a sly smile.

You lean forward, a ghost of a kiss. Ellie’s throat squeezes. “They don’t know that I’m a queer girl,” you whisper back, the heat of your eyes all-consuming.

Ellie watches you shrug.

“They don’t know that at least a quarter of them are queer girls, but – they’re not ready for that conversation.” “But you’re out, no?” Ellie quickly stumbles. If you’re not out, then that really messes with her plans to marry you and meet all your family. “Yeah,” you shrug again, explaining, “they just haven’t asked,” as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. In some ways, Ellie guesses, it is. She beams, “Well, they’ll ask when they see you hanging with me.” “What, why?” “Because I’m a known queer girl” “Oh, you have a reputation?” you quirk, and Ellie hums, “It’s possible I may have fooled around with some of your sorority sisters.” You chew on your lip, and cock your head to the side, “But did you share a really weird and intimate high with them where you cuddled all night, woke up mid-orgasm and then it made things super weird and odd to the point where you never really spoke about it again?”

Ellie grins, “No.” You shrug, “Oh, well. I win then,” and take her hand and begin to drag her behind you like a lost puppy dog.

She’s behind you on the stairs again, and you catch her staring when you turn to say, “Let’s go to my room.” As you drag her through the house, Ellie doesn’t see anyone, but she does hear the ominous sound of girl giggles and whispering. Heat blooms in her cheeks, as if she’s got omniscient eyes at the back of her head.

Ellie didn’t get along with peppy girls – too full of inner turmoil to match their happy-go-lucky attitude. The thought makes her clutch your hand tighter, and she speeds up, bumping her shoulders with yours.

“So, what’re the rules?” “Huh?” you ask, looking at her funny. The pair of you pass a group photo, and Ellie wants to stop and gawk – try and find your smiling face – but you tug her along, sensing her motives. “Like,” Ellie starts, stuck on her phrasing. “How should I be around you?” You frown up at her, deciphering her meaning. Slowly, your frown loosens. A small smile pushes into the side of your cheek. You squeeze her hand.

“Just be my Ellie.”

The pair of you go through Ellie’s question, and you help her write up a plan, noting all of her points and the quotes she should use.

Ellie tries to focus, but the whole time she’s thinking about how close you are to her – leaning against her, pushing your shoulder into hers.

She’s sitting on your bed in your room, and she’s hot all over as a result – smelling the scent from your burning candle and listening to the soft music you’re playing out of the laptop speaker.

Your walls are covered in posters. Pictures of you with family and friends and Ellie is surrounded by so much you that it feels like it’s always been like this.

Always been in your room, with her head on your lap, listening to your playlist – Ellie’s got Shazam out, but you’re just sending her the link. On her main phone, now – no busted one at the bottom of her bag.

She’s so busy being with you that she’s not wondering what she’s doing with you.

What are we? She wants to ask, but then your roommate decides to come in.

She pauses in the doorway, flinching as if she’s walked in on something intimate.

Ellie watches your eyes widen an inch, but then you catch yourself, smiling and waving. “Hey,” you greet, and your roommate – actually wearing a hoodie with your university name on it -- smiles, “Sorry, just grabbing my charger.”

“No problem,” you respond, and when she finally flicks her gaze to Ellie – kept on looking around her, like she was panhandling for money on the subway – her smile loosens.

She’s silent as she grabs her wire from her bed and doesn’t look at the pair of you as she leaves. When she’s out of the door, you get up and lock it. Coming back, Ellie gets comfy on your lap again.

“Did she look at me funny?” She’s not sure what your relationship with her is like, so she steps carefully. “I think she fancies me,” you casually explain, and Ellie’s belly flops. “For real?” You nod, wiggling your brows. “Should I be jealous?” she jokes, and your lips curl, tongue peeking out as you run it across the backs of your teeth. “We were together, once.” Ellie tries to imagine the pair of you together, and she comes up blank. Though, that’s probably because she’s too busy editing the image to clip her face in. “Yeah?” “Mm, at a Halloween party.” You’re grinning too wide. “You’re just fucking with me,” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “I’m not! I was dressed as a cat, and she was this like, sexy nun or something.” “Really?” Ellie asks, raising a brow and pulling a face that says, you’re full of shit. “Fine – I won’t tell you then.” “No no, I wanna hear this.” “What’s with the tone? I thought you’d for sure want to hear about my sexual escapades.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” You pull your lips together and raise a brow. Ellie suddenly feels too hot. Suddenly wants to run very quickly out of your bedroom door. Butterflies swirl in her belly, blood rushes to her cheeks, to her neck, and she feels the tips of her toes go numb.

You’ve danced around each other with this flirty banter for a while now, but it means something more now that you’ve said it out in the open.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ellie lies, hoping the red of her cheeks isn’t too prominent in the warm glow of your bedroom. You don’t lose your pursed lips, and Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Just hurry up and tell me about how you fucked your roommate.” “Say please,” you quickly rebut, and Ellie chokes.

The fuck? “What?” She laughs nervously, ignoring the quick electric bolt that shot through her groin, “fuck off.” “Fine,” you bleat, leaning back against the bedframe. “I won’t tell you then,” and Ellie shakes her head, proclaiming, “You’re insane,” and you grin at her, raising a testy brow, “It’s just manners, Ellie.”

When Ellie had imagined the dynamics of your relationship – but not relationship – it was you saying please. Preferably whispering it with your fingers in her auburn hair. Please Ellie, please do that again.

Ellie sits up from your lap, shaking the image away.

She takes in the curve of your brow, and the teasing slip of your lips. She dips closer – sudden, quick – and relishes in the way your mouth falls open an inch.

“I’m not begging you,” she whispers, not bothering to hide how mesmerised she is by your mouth.

“No?” you speak, matching her lazy tone. You nod to her, “I thought you’d be into that.”

Jesus fucking Christ, what’s happening right now? Ellie thought you’d help plan her essay and be done with it – she’d hoped for some flirty banter, but this was different. This was… Ellie leans closer, propped up by her hand that she’s planted beside your thigh. “If I say please, I want intricate detail.” “If you say please, I’ll give you whatever you want.” This girl…

“Whatever I want?” Ellie quirks. “Yeah,” you respond, and you press your forehead against hers, tone breathy as you repeat, “Whatever you want.”

Ellie can think of a lot of things she wants. For starters, she wants to close this gap and finally kiss you, but she says, “Please tell me your story,” and you smile, all teeth.

“It was Halloween.” “You said that.” “n, we were really drunk, and she’s like – straight straight, right?” You say straight like someone would say sorry. “Mm,” Ellie hums, her belly swirling. She hasn’t moved a fucking inch. Her palm is cramping, but hell if she’s going to lean away from you right now. This is a whole other kind of foreplay. “We’re in the bathroom.” “Here?” she asks, needing details – information. What day was it? Time?

You nod, and your nose brushes against hers. Her face blooms red again, and the brush of your touch makes her brain fuzzy. “We’re making out, and I thought she only wanted to kiss, but then she starts tryna take my top off.”

There’s a sincere edge to your tone. Your eyes are wistful, but you’re beaming – spurred by the excitement evident in Ellie’s eyes.

“Things get heated. She’s touching me everywhere, you know, hands just, between my legs, on my chest. Says she’s wanted me for ages but couldn’t say it, I mean, she’s got a boyfriend.” “A boyfriend?” Ellie asks, and fuck, that makes it worse. Or better? Either way, her body begins to ache like it did that morning – when it was just the pair of you and the world was quiet. Thrums electric and Ellie’s suddenly worried about the electric bill. “Yeah – frat boyfriend. Frat president boyfriend.” “Look at you, miss home wrecker.” You roll your eyes, “you want me to finish the story?” “I said please, didn’t I?” “You’re the worst.” “So…she’s taking your top off.” “Yeah. Then she’s taking my pants off, too. Then says, she’s never been with a girl before, can I show her?” Ellie pulls back with a groan. She can’t help it. Pulls back and falls into your lap, imagining you showing her how to fuck.

Her eyes are glazed over, like she’s somewhere else, thinking, about something else. She rubs her face and listens to your sweet giggle.

“Sorry,” she says, settling back, and you hold your hands up.

“No worries, take your time.”

Ellie waits – patiently. Waiting for you to divulge more information. Please carry on, she thinks. Please please please.

She feels like a kid at camp listening to the teens tell a ghost story around the campfire. And then what?

“You made her come?” she whispers, failing to hide the excitement in her whisper. A small, thoughtful smile finds your lips, and you lean down, hair brushing over her face.

Your thigh pushes into the back of her head, and you smell like a forest.

Your room smells like a fucking forest. Pine and vanilla.

The lights are dim, cloaking the room in a warm glow. She swears she hears trees swaying in the distance, but she realises – faintly – that it’s just the blood rushing in her ears. No trees here, she thinks. No bloody forest.

You’re looking down at her, eyes glittering in the warm light. After a stress-filled silence, you nod, whispering, “against the wall, cat ears still on. Made her come so hard it was dripping down my chin.” “Jesus,” Ellie whispers. Her legs fidget, trying to squirm from the warmth pushing between her thighs. She pushes her hair away from her forehead, even those it’s already tucked behind her ears. “Then what?” she asks, moving in your lap. Then what then what.

Your lips curl into a small smile, “Then we never spoke about it again.”

Ellie feels her eyes go dark with the memory. Imagines a film over them — lost in her own brain. Pictures you crawling on your hands and knees, on the prowl with your cat ears sitting pretty.

What was it you said again? That she was dripping all over your chin?

Her tongue peaks through her lips, pretty in pink, and she notices your small smile curve wider. Though, it’s not kind. It’s edged with something, as if you’ve made a funny and she doesn’t get the joke.

Ellie’s belly drops.

A laugh bursts out of your mouth, and she freezes. Nononononono, you didn’t. “I’m sorry—” you start, hiding your smile, and Ellie’s lips open in shock, then she’s snapping to -- jumping up from your lap, red all over.

She’s looking for her coat, hands shaking “nah, that’s not funny,” she’s saying, all while the faux image of you between a girl’s thighs buzzes behind her eyes.

It was her. She was the girl. She’d even imagined taking your cat ears off and putting them on her head. “Yeah, it was – Ellie,” you laugh, reaching for her hand, and Ellie’s body reacts to the touch.

You spin her into you, pouting, “Come onnnnn, I was playing.” “You’re mean for making that up. You’re a horrible person.” “Awhhh, I’m sworry. I’m sworry, come here –” You pull her into you, wrapping your arms around her neck. Be mad. Ellie thinks. Be mad be mad be mad—oh, but you’re so soft and warm.

She falls into you, hands catching your hips — holding you steady, as her head pushes into the curved gap between your throat and shoulder. You hold the back of her neck, hugging her close.

“I’m sorry, that was mean.” “Made me all worked up,” Ellie admits. The all-familiar ache is back. Then again, it’s never far when you’re around. “Yeah?” you quirk, the tone saying: tell me all about it. “Mm.” “Thinking about me with another girl?” She breathes a laugh, then breathes in your scent, the smell causing her to hold your hips tighter.

“You gotta write my essay now, make it up to me.” Your laugh rattles against her body.

“What you on about? I gave you free material to think about.” “What?” she laughs, squinting her face together. She pulls away, and you look up at her, chewing on your bottom lip.

You glance down at her mouth, and a breath gets caught in her throat. “Nothing,” You grin, and she cocks her head to the side, tightening her grip on your waist. “No, tell me. You made fun of me, you gotta tell me.” “I don’t have to do anything, Ellie.” “I’ll get it outta you.” “Yeah, how?” “You won’t know until it happens.”

“Weirdo,” you scoff, pulling away. “Let me walk you home, they wanna do a group meeting about some charity event later.” “Ooo, little miss sorority girl.”

You smack her chest, “Hey!” but Ellie grabs your hand, laughing as she pulls you into her, catching your hips again. You gasp in surprise, hands catching hers, and your chest pushes into hers.

She feels you focus on the cavern of her eyebrow scar, then the dust of freckles over her nose. The wild brush of her eyebrows, and the small, circular, chickenpox scar on her cheek.

Ellie gets confident or forgets the proximity of your relationship — nothing new — and rests her forehead against yours.

The world gets quiet.

The buzz of your music fades out, and all Ellie can hear is the small, clipped, and shaky sound of your breathing.

Your eyes flutter closed for a brief second, and Ellie wants to kiss you. Always wants to kiss you, but this is different. This is new and sudden and sweet. It’s soft. Gentle.

Your fingers graze over hers, and she imagines holding you like this forever.

Imagines doing this, as often as she likes.

All you’ve done together, and you haven’t even kissed yet. Ellie gazes at your wet mouth.

“Wanna come to mine? We don’t even have to smoke; you can just help me with the intro to my essay.” Your lips twist, and a small smile appears. “Ellie,” you whisper, tinged with a double meaning. “What?” she asks, feigning innocence. “I can’t,” you whisper.

She breathes in deep, eyes closing as she presses her forehead against yours. “Not even for a second?” “Ellie.” “Please?” she whispers, looking at you, and your face falls. Your mouth opens an inch, the red of your tongue alluring. When you don’t respond, Ellie slowly dips lower and tentatively brushes her mouth against yours. Your breath catches.

The skin of your lips is pillow soft, and for the first time, she’s able to taste your lip gloss from the source. “Doesn’t please get me anything I want?” Ellie hushes. The music has bled into the background, a hum in the walls of your room. It rattles through her toes and dances through her chest, forcing her heart to thrum with life. Your eyes are half-lidded, lashes brushing over your cheeks when you look at her mouth. “That was a one-time deal,” you manage to tease, despite the nerves radiating off of you. “So, I can’t kiss you?” “I never said that.”

Your tone is dangerous. Ellie’s lips quirk into a smirk. “I didn’t say please though?”

There’s a heated 30 seconds where you pluck up some courage. Ellie can hear the cogs turning in your pretty little head before you conclude that, “manners are overrated,” and press your cherry lips against hers, sticky and artificially sweet.

The world stops in that movie magic kind of way.

Reality flutters to a pause, the music switches off, the natter from your roommates downstairs goes quiet, and Ellie can no longer hear the constant anxious beating of her heart.

It’s just you and your mouth – the press of your lips, no tricks, just the delicate touch of yours against hers.

Ellie is 15 again and playing truth or dare at that camp her uncle forced her to go to.

She’s picking dare and kissing Jessica Carter, the daughter of a man that owned a slew of Ice Cream shops in Salt Lake, and it means so much more to Ellie than it does to Jessica.

She feels the electricity of the kiss pulse throughout her body, like she’s got her soapy fingers in a light switch socket, and as she pulls away and Jessica laughs – giggles, cupping her wet lips, I can’t believe we just did that – Ellie feels the cavern in her chest close just an inch.

She was about to thank her, but then she thought better of it.

Pulling away now, there’s no Jessica, it’s you, and you’re pressing your fingers to your lips like you’re holding them out to a cat, nervous as to what’s going to happen next.

Ellie leans her forehead against yours, lips numb.

You’re breathing like you’ve run a marathon. Then you kiss her again.

Ellie stumbles back from the shock, but you move with her, guiding her back until her legs hit the bed frame.

She makes a quick decision – pulls away and gets back onto your bed, hoping you follow her down. Thankfully, you do – quirk a nervous smile and knee walk over to her, spreading your legs and clambering onto her lap.

You sit back on her thighs with your knees pressed against her hips.

The position is a memory re-lived, except this time, you’re both alert – no sleep to mask the feeling, just the nerves pulsating through your veins. New new new, it’s saying.

Ellie reaches out and steadies your hips.

Taking a shaky breath, she slips her thumbs under the fabric of your shirt and runs the length of your shorts. The skin there burns, heat radiating off of you like a furnace, and it’s as if you enjoy the touch, as you take Ellie’s hands and cup them with your own, keeping them against your skin, before dragging them around your hips.

Ellie catches your eyes, breath lodged in her throat.

It stays there while you run her fingers up and under your shirt, painstakingly moving her hands over your stomach, over your rib cage, and Ellie’s heart swells in her chest as the tips of her fingers feel the underwire of your bra.

Ellie can’t decide what she wants.

There are too many options – kiss you, undress you – and she so badly wants all of them all at once. When you finally drag her palms over your breasts, she feels your nipples pressing through the thin and lacey fabric, and her belly swirls, the pressure pushing low.

Your breath rattles in your chest. “You okay?” Ellie asks, and instead of answering, you bow down to kiss her.

This kiss is different. It’s desperate. Tinged with the need to tell Ellie it's okay, it's okay, as you slip your tongue in her mouth. She groans.

It’s deep and low, echoing around the room, and there’s a fleeting second where Ellie is embarrassed, but you swallow the sound down, hips reacting, pressing into her crotch.

Ellie aches with the memory of before.

She wants to tease you, wants to say, you gonna come like this again? but you drag your lips over to her neck, and she whines pathetically.

Oh fuck, she thinks. Ellie goes liquid, like syrup. She melts into the mattress, hands relax on your breasts, and just – lets you pepper kisses over her throat. Let’s you run your tongue under her jaw, and her hips buck in response. Jolt up into your crotch, and your breathing changes, now coming out in long, deep pulls.

You mark her neck with your mouth, and Ellie feels the suck of your lips in her gut. Her hands go exploring, sliding over your tits, and she rubs her thumbs over your nipples, listening for your breathing stutter.

When you mumble a desperate fuck, into her throat, Ellie suddenly wants you on your back.

She knocks the pair of you over, and you fall back onto your mattress, grinning up at Ellie with a wild smile. You take her in. Eyes flutter over her like butterflies, taking in her statue as she sits on top of you. Suddenly, though, your smile changes. Goes nervous.

“What does this mean for us?” you whisper, and Ellie shakes her head, moving to kiss you again. Now on top, she swells with the feeling of control.

“Don’t think about it,” she mumbles, then tastes cherry again.

Ellie’s a hypocrite because all she does is think about it.

Up all night in bed, thinking about it. Thinking about how she wants you as her girlfriend, but she hasn’t even taken you out on a date yet.

Doesn’t know about your family. Your friends. Doesn’t know your favourite movie, or colour. All she knows is your weed order. The thought makes her sick with shame.

The mumble of her name coming out of your lips brings her back.

You stuff her shirt in your hands, and Ellie wants it off.

Wants your hands all over her, wants to grind her hips into yours like you did hers, with your hands on her hips guiding her.

“Wanna see,” you mumble, tugging at her shirt, and Ellie’s skin prickles.

She drags her hips back, the seam of her jeans pushing against her crotch, and sits up straight. She grins, all teeth, then fists the shirt, pulling it up her chest. The lines of her muscles are revealed, along with a few white scars that dot her stomach and back. She’s wearing a casual cotton bra, but you look at her as if she’s donning silk. “So pretty,” you whisper, blinking up at her, and that shame that sat inside of her dispels. You slide your hands over her chest, and the warmth of them pushes into her bloodstream. “Pretty?” Ellie quirks, needing something to distract herself from the languid movement of your hands. You trail your fingers over her ribcage, then push your pointer up her breast bone, mouth open an inch, ignoring her, and Ellie’s limbs go jelly.

You’ve got your goddamn explorer hat on as you drag the base of your palm between her tits, your spare hand lazily rubbing her hip bone.

“What’re you doing?” she asks, words coming out as a breathy whisper. You flash a small smile, “committing you to memory.” A dangerous pressure builds in Ellie’s heart. Her cheeks bloom red, her skin prickles, and she feels light-headed, as if you’ve removed all the oxygen in the room.

You hook a finger around the elastic of her bra and tug her forward. Ellie catches herself on the mattress beside your head just as you kiss her, pushing your tongue into her mouth and crotch up into hers.

She shudders.

The kiss is all tongue, desperate, as she bumps her nose against yours to taste you. She’s preoccupied with your mouth, so she doesn’t notice your hand sliding between her thighs. When she does, she forgets how to kiss. “S-Shit,” Ellie stutters, caught off guard. Your touch is gentle, just, lazily rubbing your fingers into her jeans. There’s a lot of fabric between you, thus Ellie’s left the chase the friction.

Resting her forehead against yours, she clutches the sheets beside you, rolling her hips into your hand. She blinks at you, opening her eyes, and you’re staring at her like she’s an artwork – trying to memorise every brush stroke.

You bump your nose against hers, flexing your palm. Ellie hums again.

“You sure you wanna do that?” she jokes, clutching onto any semblance of sanity. You give her a lazy smile, lips wet with her spit. “’s ’only fair.

“Not –” Ellie starts, but chokes, your knuckle just hitting the top of her pussy. Her eyes flutter closed, mouth opening an inch, and you must sense the shift, because you keep your hand there, nodding, knowing what she was going to say before she said it.

“Gonna make you come 'cause I want to, not ‘cause I have to.” “Fuck – okay,” Ellie relents. There’s no way she’s going to leave in the middle of this. She can’t. She’d probably collapse mid-way. A pressure pushes between her thighs, hot and constant. Her pussy clenches around nothing and she whispers something. Sounds like your name.

Been a minute since she’d had a hand other than hers between her legs.

Ellie lazily chases your palm, thinking that If she moves too quickly, this moment will poof into a dream. Doesn’t want to scare it away.

To hide her red face, she nuzzles into your throat, roles reversed from that morning, except Ellie didn’t have her hand between your thighs. She tells herself it’s her turn to do that next.

You pop the button on her jeans, and Ellie glances down at your hands, seeing/feeling them tug at the band.

You turn into her head, “Jesus, these painted on or something?” and Ellie breathes a laugh, “Didn’t expect someone else taking them off.” “I need easy access from now on, only sweatpants.” “Noted.” Your smile goes silly, “preferably those grey ones you wore when I came over that time, when I made you dinner.” “Thought you liked those ones, caught you staring at my ass.” “No you did not.” Ellie kisses your neck, “It’s so sexy when you gaslight me.” You huff, “You gonna help me take them off, or watch me struggle?” and a slow grin builds across Ellie’s face. “Wanna see you work for it.” “Well, you’ll be watching for a while. Enjoy the show!” you joke, trying to drag the denim off of her hips. You grunt loudly, brow furrowed as you tug.

Finally, you throw your hands up with a huff, then pout and cross your arms. Ellie’s leaned back at this point, and she mimics your face.

“Defeated by The Gap,” Ellie sighs. “I’m gonna put in a complaint. Tell them that their stupid jeans stopped my girlf—” you catch yourself, eyes widening.

Ellie goes still.

There’s a second where she hears the crowd cheering in the background, but it turns out it’s a kid crying on the street outside.

“What did you just say?” she asks, tone filled with awe. She cannot help the shit-eating grin that splays across her face. It’s so big that you have to cover your face from the shine. “I said nothing.” “Um, I heard something.” “You didn’t hear anything.” “I heard the word girl and then an ‘F’ sound.” “You didn’t! I’m telling you; you’re hearing things. Going crazy.” “Ummmmmm,” Ellie drags, squinting down at you.

She tries to pull your hands away, but you won’t budge. “I heard something!” “I was going to say, girl fellow!” “Girl what?” Ellie laughs, eyes alight with humour.

“Yeah—” you start, pulling your hands away and masking your features. You’re a beacon of control.

“Girl fellow. It’s this new thing I coined. A girl who is a fellow, as in friend.” Ellie squints, “Fellow means boy, you weirdo.” “No it—” you frown. “Does it?” “Yes, have you not seen Robin Hood?” You pause, “No.” “Oh my god!” Ellie erupts. “How have you not seen Robin Hood? I used to be obsessed with it.” “Everything makes so much sense now.” “The fuck does that mean?”

You push your hands into her hips, fingers tickling. “Do you have a pointy bow and arrow at home? A little green hat?” “Shut up,” Ellie laughs, trying to bat your hands away. She catches them. “That makes so much sense,” you start, joking around, “You’re far too into social justice.” “How are you bullying me about world change? You just called me your girlfriend!” “Fellow!” you correct. “That means girl boy!” You grin triumphantly, “Welcome to the 21st century, Ellie.” She rolls her eyes, “you’re so annoying.” “Your jeans are annoying.” “My jeans are cute.” You point a finger at her, “I’m gonna fight your jeans.”

Ellie dips low and kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “mm, my money’s on the jeans,” and you wrap your thigh around her ass, using it as leverage to roll her onto her back.

You suddenly slide down, standing at the edge of the bed and shoving your hands into the band of her trousers. With a determined look, you manage to pull them down, “fuck your jeans.”

They end up on the floor, and Ellie’s left in a pair of boxers and her bra. She’d clap for you if she wasn’t so suddenly dazed. You appear on top of her, and she automatically wraps her arms around your shoulders, humming contently as you kiss her.

When her brain comes back to reality, she manages to switch positions again, knees pressing beside your thighs. With a tentative touch, you trace your hand over her stomach, distracting her with the wet of your kiss.

When your fingers touch the band of her underwear, Ellie’s breathing changes. It’s all suddenly real.

“Wanna stop?” you breathe, tone sincere and gaze gentle. Despite the bubble in her chest, Ellie has never wanted to continue something more. She shakes her head, eager. “Fuck no.”

Your sweet giggle distills the tension. “Good,” you grin, sliding your fingers lower, “wanted to do this since I met you.”

The tips of your fingers drag over her clothed pussy, gentle and soft. Ellie releases a shaky breath.

There’s just a piece of flimsy cotton stopping you from skin on skin, but she’s so wet that it feels that way, anyway.

Her eyes flutter closed, the sensation lulling her, fueling her with dopamine, and she buries her head in the crook of your neck, flexing her hips to meet your hand.

You drag the corner of your knuckle up her clothed slit, pushing into her clit when you get to the top. Ellie groans quietly, and you grin into the side of her head, rolling your knuckle into her, and she moans.

“Fuck, s’good.” “Yeah?” you ask, and Ellie nods. Propelled by her quiet desperation, you twist your hand and push a finger against her damp clit – the wet fabric showing the lines of her pussy – and roll it gently.

The fabric in the way makes it dirtier, more desperate, and makes Ellie moan pathetically into your neck, forgetting you’ve got roommates. She chases your hand.

Hips stir up, wet heat coiling in her belly and pushing into her cunt. Is this what you felt? That morning in her apartment?

The fire is quick to rise, and it’s only been a couple of minutes of her grinding into your palm when her pussy clenches, heat pushing at the back of her clit.

“Mm,” she hums, inhaling a shaky breath. Her thighs begin to shake. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come,” she hushes into your ear, and she swears she hears you whimper. You turn to look at her, and pout, “Want it on my fingers, Ellie,” you admit, eyes innocent, wide with wonder, and Ellie’s jaw clenches.

Her hips lose their rhythm, and how the fuck is she in control right now? She doesn’t feel that way. Feels like she lost any semblance of control when you flipped her over and pulled her jeans off. “Fuck, okay. Okay. Shit. Take my – fuck,” she stumbles, and you push your fingers under the band of her underwear, asking, “Can I?” in such a pure tone that Ellie has to close her eyes and breathe through her nose. “Yeah baby,” she nods, “s’okay. Fuck. It’s okay.”

You drag your fingers through her pubic hair – eyes on her the whole time – before you stuff your pointer and index against her wet clit. You start to roll the nerve, and Ellie chokes on her spit. Her body shudders.

She’s in your goddamn dorm room in your sorority with your hand down her pants.

You’re watching her intently. Glazed eyes gazing at her features, fingers controlling the way her brows furrow and cheeks bloom red. It’s wholly intimate. Ellie’s slick coats your fingers.

“So hot, Ellie.”

Her body flushes – she has to bury her head in your neck again, where she nods. She grinds her cunt into your hand, forcing you to press harder and roll quicker. “Mm, fuck,” Ellie swears, spit dribbling over her lips, drunk on your fingers, “Fuck, m’ gonna come.” She feels the familiar pressure behind her clit, the heat that sears – almost painful. You twist into her, nodding, saying, “Give it to me El’s.” Then, “please.”

The wave rushes up and pulls her under, rendering her voiceless and still, before it crashes, and she gushes over your hand, chasing the spin of your fingers as she shakes. “Mm, god, god, shit” she whimpers, voice muffled by your neck, trying so hard to keep quiet, but fuck, she’s not in control of her body. She clenches the duvet as her pussy clenches and un-clenches, clit spasming, whole body slick with sweat.

Her hips grind into your fist, eyes rolled back, mumbling curses into your throat, and she’s clenching the duvet so tight that her knuckles go white.

Then someone calls your name.

You freeze. Fingers go still.

Ellie wants to cry, but somewhere in her drunk mind, she realises the severity of the situation.

When you don’t respond, your name gets called again.

“Fuck,” you curse, then “Ellie, baby, I’m sorry, you gotta get off of me.”

Ellie manages to find the energy to roll off of you, and you get up, legs stumbling before you reach the door.

“Y-Yeah?” you call out through the wood.

Ellie lays boneless on your bed, breathing deeply through her nose. Her boxers are pushed low, pubic hair on show, but she doesn’t have the power to sort herself out.

She should be nervous at the idea of being caught, but fuck, her clit still throbs with the memory of your fingers. She languidly blinks at the ceiling, trying to calm her heart.

How the fuck did that just happen?

“Meeting soon, you coming?” the faceless voice calls, and you mumble a curse before saying, “Yeah! Gimmie a minute.”

When you turn to her, Ellie’s already gazing at you. You quirk a small, sad smile, and Ellie nods, understanding.

“Lemme just,” she starts, rubbing her face, “find the energy.” You giggle at her. “Let me help you put your stupid jeans on.” Ellie props herself up by her elbows, beaming, ��My top down there, too?” “Got it.”

She manages to shove her jeans on, wincing when she knocks her sensitive clit. You eye her.

“Listen, I—” you start, clearly flustered. You motion to her, “—Would take better care of you after but.” “Whoa – what?” Ellie cuts you off, shoving her shirt on with a frown.

You purse your lips, “like, cook you dinner or kiss your forehead or something.” “You’ve already cooked me dinner, and you can kiss my forehead whenever you want.” “I mean. I don’t usually make a girl come and then dip.” “Oh,” Ellie frowns, “But this is different.” You pout, “Still feel bad.” “Don’t,” Ellie firmly spouts. She takes your hands and kisses your forehead. “I feel good, you should feel good.” “It was good?” you ask, suddenly lit up and eager to hear more. Ellie laughs. Her body is filled with a warm, buttery feeling. She’s still drunk on you, lethargic from coming, and she doesn’t have the space to panic.

Her subconscious tries to tell her everything that has happened that should cause her concern.

She nearly called you her girlfriend, then made you come on her double bed with a flowery bedspread. Now she feels bad because she doesn’t have enough time to give you adequate aftercare. Dude.

Still, Ellie shows no alarm when she kisses your forehead and says, “I’ll call you.”

It’s only when she gets home, looks in the mirror and sees her lips glittery with your lip-gloss, that reality sets in.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams fan fic #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #smut #ellie williams the last of us #dealer!ellie williams #tlou2 #tlou

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sturnioloshacker · 5 months

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argument apologies - a matt sturniolo short

a/n: requested by @stupendousoperatorwolfathlete; lowercase intended

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS ALL FICTIONAL! MATT WOULD NEVER EVER DO THIS TO THIS SIGNIFICANT OTHER! PLEASE DON’T TAKE IT TO HEART!

cw: very angsty but has a fluffy ending

summary: a heated argument results in physical contact

in the dimly lit living room, matt and i are engaged in a heated argument. the tension thickened with every exchanged word until, in a moment of frustration, matt's hand swung accidentally, making contact with my cheek. time seemed to freeze as shock registered on both our faces. stunned, i recoiled and fled to the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind me. i lean back against the door, holding my cheek as i slide down the door in tears. why did he do that? what caused him to do that? i said nothing to offend him. it’s his fault that i’m pissed off.

the tears haven’t stopped. i’m so angry and upset right now, it’s going to take a lot to get me to be happy again. i silence my flowing waterworks when i hear footsteps inching closer to the bathroom door. then it’s complete silence. am I hearing things? after what felt like an eternity, i hear a gentle knock, signalling matt’s remorse and guilt.

“baby, i’m so sorry. can you please let me in so i can explain?”

i hesitated but opened the bathroom slightly, coming face to face with the boy who i adore but who also just broke my heart. matt’s eyes mirrored regret as he spoke.

“i never meant for any of this. i let my anger get the best of me, and i’m truly sorry."

“i’m really hurt, matt. not just physically but mentally and emotionally. i can’t believe you chose to hit me. what did i do to deserve that, huh?” i say, tears still streaming down my face.

“i should never have raised my hand, and i promise it will never happen again. i care about you, and i can't stand the thought of hurting you. i can’t stand the thought of arguing with you either. i hate both of those with a passion. i’m so fucking sorry, my love. if you need more time to yourself, i understand. but i really am so sorry.”

i felt a sense of sincerity in his voice as he spoke, his own eyes welling with tears. he begins to walk away from the bathroom, wanting to give me space, but not before looking back with a sad smile on his face. i close the bathroom door, conflicted at the situation i’m in. i love the boy with every fibre of my being, i really do, but he stepped over the boundary line. i don’t know what to do. i decide to message nick and chris and get their opinion.

y: guys, i have a problem

n: everything okay?

c: is it matt? is it you? what happened?

y: long story short, matt hit me during an argument, he apologised but now i don’t know what to do

n: what a fucking idiot!

c: dickhead

y: okay, okay calm down please! i don’t want this ruining your relationship with your brother

n: so he apologised?

y: yes

c: i reckon you should talk to him. he just messaged me a whole essay about your situation and he’s really upset and defeated by it

n: i agree with chris for once. he’s not going to let it go until you forgive him. he loves you so much, he really does

y: i’ll go talk it out with him. thanks guys 💕

i head to matt’s room, knocking on the door. being told to come in, i slowly make my way in. i gasp at the view in front of me. tissues sprawled everywhere, a sweater of mine on the floor and his figure curled up on his bed.

“matt, please look at me.” i whisper, picking up my sweater from the floor.

matt slowly looks up at me, his eyes all red and cheeks puffy. his lips are all swollen from the tears he wept.

“oh matty”, i sigh, another load of tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

“baby, i-“

“shh, shh, shh. it’s okay, bub. i forgive you. one argument and one slap isn’t going to destroy our relationship. i love you way too damn much to let some lame argument get in the way of what we have.”

“oh thank god. i love you so much, thank you for forgiving me. can i get a hug?”

“of course you can.”

i lean into his embrace, only to be pulled in closer. the hug is gentle yet full of love. i feel matt’s fingers lightly scratch my back while i play with matt’s hair, our fingers dancing along their respective areas. i look up at the boy, my heart beating super fast at the adoration and pure love i have for him. i press my lips to his, the kiss igniting a fire deep inside us. that night, we fell asleep, cuddled up nice and close in each other’s arms. the world around us started moving again, everything was back to how it was and our relationship was still intact.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets imagine #sturniolo triplets fanfic #sturniolo triplets fluff #sturniolo triplets angst #sturniolo triplets x reader

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goshiki-ng · 1 day

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I like to think that when the bat kids get upset with Bruce over small petty things they pull the your not my dad card like even Damian does it because he’s heard the other kids saying it for so long. Just imagine if you please:

Bruce: Tim I am begging go to sleep the case will still be there to solve tomorrow

Tim: your not in charge of me your not my dad?

Bruce: (legally isn’t his dad) I’ll tell Alfred

Tim: you wouldn’t god damn dare

Dick: (just stubbed his toe) oh fuck ouch

Bruce: language Richard

Dick: who the fuck are you my dad

Bruce: legally speaking yes watch your mouth

Bruce: Jason stop stealing my tires off the Batmobile it isn’t funny

Jason: what are you gonna do ground me your not my dad bitch

Bruce: I DONT NEED TO BE YOUR DAD FOR YOU TO NOT STEAL MY TIRES DONT STEAL PERIOD

Jason: ok old man i think you’re going senile

Duke: damn I got an f on my English essay

Bruce: you know duke you should really study harder if you want to be successful in the future

Duke: who do you think you are trust fund billy my dad?

Steph: hey Brucie let’s do a tiktok together

Bruce: Steph you shouldn’t be on your phone all the time it’s bad for your health

Steph: sorry bruce didn’t know i was talking to my dad right now

Damian: father I wish to go on patrol tonight

Bruce: Damian no you’re grounded you aren’t allowed to patrol

Damian: tt whatever you’re not my dad

Bruce: YES I AM?

#damian wayne #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #duke thomas #batfamily #batman #red hood #red robin #robin #nightwing

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misrepresentedmorallygrey · 1 month

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PROPAGANDA

R. M. Renfield

Mentally ill queer man writes mentally ill queer character. 200 years later, Dracula Daily happens and everyone in their mother immediately starts poking fun at him, demonizing him, or treating him like a naive child when none of these things are true. I could write a darn essay about Renfield and his role in the story. His status as a servant of Dracula is kept hidden from our heroes despite how obvious it is to the modern reader, and it turns into a striking example of dramatic irony. But at the same time, he's not a simpering servant; he's psychotic and Dracula feeds his delusion for his own gain. His death isn't a sacrifice, it's a tragic end to a story about the effects of isolation on the mind and the suffering that can come about from people refusing to listen to those who aren't like them. Pretty damned amusing, then, that absolutely no one seems to listen to the words that come out of his mouth.

Izzy Hands

people hate this guy. people HATE this guy. and for what? "hes abusive" you are out of your MIND if you actually think that. let middle aged men be messy jilted lovers, goddamn!!!!

Oh my gods, fandom has lost their minds with this one. People act like Izzy is the devil himself and actually it's his fault that the main love interest of the show has ever done anything wrong ever. Every bad thing in the show? Actually Izzy's fault. I've seen people literally, actually say he deserved his abuse and that it's his fault his abuser hurt him and that he liked it. I have seen people unironically say that his abuser should have killed him. I've seen people say that Edward Teach (y'know, literal Blackbeard who explicitly says in canon, with his mouth, "I love a good maim" would never have done anything violent ever if it wasn't for Izzy's manipulation. This is, of course, ignoring that Ed's first acts if violence were before he ever even met Izzy

So Ed and Izzy have a toxic relationship and do bad stuff to each other. And Izzy fans will minimize the shit Izzy did while bringing up what he suffered. And Ed fans will maximize the shit Izzy did and forgot the rest. Honestly I'm might be bringing a lot of anger on the blog for this, sorry.

#misrepresented morally grey #round 2 #bracket c #both bracket #dracula daily #r m renfield #our flag means death #izzy hands

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lavandaea · 5 months

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*inhales deeply*

There's spoilers ahead so, yeah, be careful.

This weekend episodes have actually broken my soul.

He didn't even need his feelings to be reciprocate, HE JUST WANTED TO BE WITH HER.

Dear writers, some things to ask, why so much screen time to second male lead? Why create such chemistry? Such backstory? (Spoiler alert: that will make us sympathize with the supposed villain) To just fuck*ing rip his heart out and pulverize it like Grandma with the cow bones, yes, just like that.

Let me get this straight, after having been raised in an environment of violence, pain and God knows what else for God knows how long, he falls in love. He experiences ✨feelings✨ ,he puts all his trust in her like never before, he shares his past and then he gets betrayed.

I swear I never seen someone cry so with so much meaning, feeling, with so much back there.

We made progress for the last (at least) five episodes TO JUST END IT IN A SINGLE ONE.

This could have been handled a lot better in a lot of ways and about a lot of topics that I could actually write an essay.

Let's begin the the main leads.

So, in order to have some sort of feeling about ML and FL loving eachother you need to put screen time ON them. Yeah, they support eachother, they have known far before Si Oh, they are funny and a lot of things more. They even kissed and very passionately, wow. Just one thing, Why didn't I even blink during that scene but found myself hitting the pillow and blushing when Si Oh did such mundane things as taking her home, opening doors for her, fixing her purse, hair, looking at her with those "I love you" eyes,👏feeling👏guilty👏about👏making👏her👏uncomfortable👏 with👏his👏feelings👏for👏her HELLO??, WAVING HER BACK WHILE HE WATCHED HER GO, SMILE EVERY DAMN TIME HE SAW HER?

I´ll tell you why. Because I know, thanks to you, that Si Oh was experiencing for the very first time what it's like to have human interaction that doesn't involve violence or having to be wary of everything and everyone all the time. He wanted to connect, to share his whole self, to be happy, to make her happy, to love and be loved. Moreover, I can't help just to feel happy for him, sad, angry, fucking rageous (not more than him, obviously).

Meanwhile, I barely know Hee Sik aka the male lead.

I remember seeing his mother once and I think that's what I understood about his private life. Sorry, I forgot about his deceased brother, that could have been a good topic to develop if it wasn't just mentioned once somewhere in the sixth chapter and left there to rot. Other than that, I know he is a cop, loves his cops friends and loves Nam Soon, also he is really loyal and good person.

Nice👍, very nice. But what else?? Or does the man just exist for his job and girlfriend? Even Shi Oh had some time to box being a drug dealer and full time whipped for her.

I'm just saying that you want me to suddenly dislike someone you took a considerable amount of time explaining but I have to like this good guy because you just pointed at him 👉🧍, and said, "here's the good guy, love him".

Sorry, I cant do that.

If you haven't noticed, you just made a character I fell obliged to sympathize.

If you wanted to make him evil and hot you should have just made him evil and hot.

It worked just as well with Jang Han Seok from Vincenzo.

Not have him have "REDEMPTION" written all over his face just to go with "Actually, no. He has no chance. 😃". It's, for lack of a better term, frustrating. (Absurd)

Instead, maybe you should have dedicated that screen time for the construction of the main leads relationship.

Oh, yes. Another thing since we are talking about the matter.

ML and FL relationship progress got weaker and weaker since she had started to spy on Si Oh. And then one episode was like "Oh, yeah, forgot to tell you, they are actually dating by now" Bom, a kiss. If I need a kiss to know they are in love, there's something going on back there. Something lacking.

Scenes of them in love: well acted, nice, cute, cool, okay. But it is like picking a random romance book and start reading it ten chapters ahead, they are in love, but how this did happen??? Last time I saw them, they were in a friends-and-some-more zone.

Where's the progress?

I know where is it. In the fake relationship, that it was being used just to turn Si Oh into a complete monster with probably not chance of going back.

"You have suffered a lot, yeah, I see. Anyway here's more pain. Suffer more and go cause some trouble because if not, there's, apparently, no plot"

Nice job.

I have been saying this and I will say it again, kdrama writers/directors are not ready for traumatized villains. They are afraid of them.

#strong girl nam soon #ryu shi oh #byun woo seok #gang nam soon #nam soon #kdrama #lee yoo mi #even hong seol and jeong had more chemistry and thats saying a lot

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kordyceps · 3 months

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OK I mean obviously I'm reading your steter stuff on AO3 but I'd love to know if you have an all time favourite? Either your fave of your own work, or fave of another author's that you rec/reread/still think about a million years later (or both lol)

Oh man, okay, sorry for taking so long to reply to this ask! But it's such a good one and I unfortunately have the memory of a gold fish, so I needed to do Research™ (aka reread all my favs again lmao) so I could answer it properly. 😂

I only have one Steter fic of my own atm, so I guess that's my de facto personal fav for now…

But as for other folks' work, god, there are sooooo many great Steter fics out there!! So these are just a handful of my top favs, and definitely not a comprehensive list!

Five Times Peter and Stiles Troll the Pack by taylorpotato Rating: M | 2.5k | requires an AO3 account to read Stiles and Peter yell at each other in Polish, misleading the pack into think they're fighting, when in reality it's all just like completely fuckin' filthy dirty talk lmao. Short, but very funny, and such a perfect capture of their mischievous dynamic. 10/10, would recommend!

The Devil You Know by Twisted_Mind Rating: E | 11.6k Peter is there for Stiles when no one else is, and uses that to slowly manipulate his way into earning Stiles' explicit trust. And ooooh boy, is it so delicious and spicy. God damn! Cards on the table: this fic definitely won't be for everyone since it wades into some darker waters. But oh my god do I love love LOVE Peter's characterization in it. God, I feel like I could write a whole damn essay about this fic, but then I'd just end up spoiling the whole thing LOL. Just--if you like darker, manipulative Peter and enjoy your sweetness just a wee bit twisted, then 10/10 would recommend!

The Prince and the Pease by luulapants Rating: E | 47k | requires an AO3 account to read Medieval/Royalty AU where Peter is forced to cede his claim to the throne and become a "guest" of King Deucalion's as part of a peace treaty between the two kingdoms. Stiles, who is suspiciously far too mouthy for your average servant, is gifted to Peter as a bedwarmer. This one does such an incredible, masterful job at translating the characters into its setting and time period. The sass, the wit, the wordplay! You can definitely tell the author knows their shit, and my god is it fantastic. The plot itself is also so satisfying -- lots of great ups and downs, and, ugh, just so good! (Be sure to read p2 for the full ending btw!) Needless to say, 10/10, would recommend!

Keeping him (It's all about intent) by sittinginmytincan Rating: M (& E for oneshot sequel) | 121k Stiles winds up slingshotted into his own future, where it turns out he's married to Peter Hale of all people. His only way back is with Lydia's help, but she's gone mysteriously missing somewhere on the east coast while investigating some strange disappearances. Man, this fic….. I feel like the writer for this one must have received a checklist of things I'm into and decided to mark nearly every single one of them lol. Time travel, woke up married, magical theory, an enthralling af plotline -- and it's so thorough. Like, everything is so incredibly well thought out, the characterization is on point, and the development of Stiles and Peter's relationship is just chef kiss. Definitely 10/10, would recommend!

The Striking Complication by aurevell Rating: T | 118k I don't even want to write a summary up for this one because the mystery of it all and peeling back what's happening piece by piece is, imo, the best way to experience it. This story is intense as fuck, near relentlessly oppressive, and impossible to put down. It keeps you constantly at the edge of your seat as you try to figure out what is going on and how Peter and Stiles will survive it, with these heart-wrenchingly sweet breather moments sprinkled throughout. If you enjoy time loop stories, this one is an absolute must read! 10/10, would recommend!

build-a-beau by veterization Rating: E | 41.5k Tired of his dad always worrying about him being single, Stiles decides to pay for a fake boyfriend service so he can finally get his pops off his back about it. It goes about as well as one can expect a fake texting boyfriend you accidentally catch real feelings for can go lmao. This fic is wonderfully witty, with really fantastic banter between the two of them, and it's just so very fun getting to watch the pretend part of their exchanges slip more and more into something genuine. 10/10, would recommend!

Under the Songbird's Wing by mia6363 Raing: E | 87k Stiles is captured and held in captivity alongside Peter, Deucalion, and Satomi Ito. To survive, Stiles runs through lacrosse drills and tells stories, eventually persuading his fellow cellmates out of their shells and establishing a profound, unbreakable bond between them. This one is HEAVY, folks. Like, heavy heavy. But, god, it's also such a beautiful exploration of the characters and the bonds they develop through shared captivity. I don't even know what more to say, really, it's just haunting and lovely and awful and wonderful all at once. In the mood for something that hurts? Then 10/10, would recommend!

#yes ALL of these are 10/10 would recommend!!! 👏😤#steter #fic recs #I may have gone overboard with this lmao #but I just!!!! love steter and these fics so much and I had to gush about every single one!!!!#and there is definitely no way I could have picked just one #teen wolf #asks #dre606

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chestnutracc · 4 months

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I hate how some people after season 2 are just putting hate on Aziraphale. I mean, he in fact, left the Crowley, but he had his own reasons as well, didn't he? Aziraphale have a very compliceted relationship with heaven but he is in fact an angel and he want to belong there OAAAAAHHHHH—

Quick frame from animatic, u can find it on my instagram for example :) chestnut.racc (quick self advertisment haha)

Anyway, those kind of videos where people are insulting Aziraphale or smth like 'me after s2' and the video of taking of his face or covering them all on some kind of placats. I'm shittin myself. I know that thats grief after the ending but... Man his whole life or more like existance is not ONLY about Crowley in fact :/

Look how we get a chance to speculate why did he do that? What was his reasons? I think that the ending of Good Omens was (not only just marketing catch (that dramatic pause for a kiss and 'betrayal') but also a planned procedure? I love them both [Aziraphale and Crowley] equally so you shouldn't think this is a desperate attempt to protect your favorite (wha de duck I am saying, this series have a few months now so it is not a fresh topic... For me it is oh goddd ANYWAY)

Alr, here is another image so you won't go so quickly and read all that shit or not

Hkhm... Let me give yall a wholeass essay in my second language.

Kidding! Not so extreme. Haha. Anyway. Those are the possibilities why Aziraphale decided that he should leave to heaven. Of course, there could be a few. Or everything. Or none. It's just my personal opinion :)

Again, assumptions, personal opinion, don't want to offend anyone. Thing up⬆️ that's the part where you can argue with me, debate maybe. Whatever. Thing down, I gues bunch of headcanonc? I don't know, they are theories? You can as well say what you think!!⬇️

Goosh, sorry for the mess. Lets start already. Yeah. Uh. Right. Right. Alright. Why Aziraphale chose heaven?

1. Aziraphale overall is an angel... Literally... So uhm he is naturally connected with God, wich he as well worships. He don't have to stand with heaven, but he still has a deep bond with good. Leaving the heaven would be, right, a great decision for his wellbeing. It's clear that he's not on their side. But he did not left his God. Saying 'no' to Megatron would be something that would make him feel terribly guilty and overall devasted, as he would disobey his own moral code and he would gave up a part of himself, I suppose.

2. For 6,000 fuckinf years he had been arguing with himself about feeling for Crowley, right now doesn't matter if platonic, romantic. He was renouncing Crowley so many times that he don't know him, he's not his friend. Yet he could not resist, but be with that redhead. Don't you think that he was having some, oh I don't know, moral crisis? Imagine choosing between two most importanr things? The creature you love and, for Azi, a literall purpose of creation - serving God? Oh man, he was in this state for over 6,000 years. If he would say 'no' then, would he ever get another chance like that to habilitate? He was working so hard, for so long, but he didn't had to chose through all those centuries. Now he had. I guess it's logical, that he choosed his creator.

3. Clear and logical! If Crowley would be back to heaven, he wouldn't have to choose between two thing he loves. Ah you clever one :). Nah. He literally said that he wants to work with Crowley. What can I say more.

4. Obvioulsy, he did not wanted to chose what we know of we SHOULD from serial. And pervious point... And previous previous. It felt like he had been lost or something in it all. I mean, he needed to choose if he wants to take Crowley, if he wants to go back. He was rhinking about the kiss, probably about heaven, what would they say, what would they do. To him, to Crowley. What he should say to Megatron. I suppose he was impetuous with that decision. Imagine lying (he is a damn angel whaaa) to yourself for thousands of years and then just having to confess. Nah, he would like better to stay silent and still lie 🙂 oh god why he is so stupid. Crowley is also stupid. They both are!!!

5. He was mad. Similisr to previous point. He felt like he did not belong with Crowley, as he was devasted. And also Crowley ignored him as well, as Azi ignored Crowley. But i want to focus on thing that he said that he NEEDS him and begged to not to leave him. Easy peasy. No communication between those doveys.

6. He was afraid of loving Crowley as - what would heaven say? What would god say? Will they be happy? Will they be safe? Is it really possible for them to be together? Demon and angel?

7. He considered himself as a failure for Crowley 👍 after he said yes, when Crowley was always saying no.

8. He was afraid of the consequences refusing heaven. Like, he literally was making out with devil, then went o heaven, hell's fire couldn't kill 'him' (ik it was crowley but not for heaven), he was hiding Gabriel, he did not cooperated with heaven. There were a few times when he sinned... A lot. Uhm. Well,I DO have a reason to suppose this could have been some kind of test or something... Because what the hell? From archangel, later no one, then back to the archangel?

Aug! Sorry, long post. Rage hit me. I'm going to sleep now, goodnight :)

#good omens s2 #good omens #art #doodlies #doodle #aziraphale #spoilers good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #good ineffable omens #ineffable divorce #shitpost #bitch was writing so long that their mouth went dry af #LATE AS ALWAYS OMFG

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yallemagne · 1 year

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You are right turning Dracula into The Lover is so danm needless!

-"Oh we need vampire/human romance with the vampire's tragic end!" Why make a convoluted romance with Drac and Mina? The book has served you what you seek on a silver platter. All you need to do is fill in the gaps of the epistolary novel to play with. Flesh out Lucy and Arthur and how they got closer. Keep Lucy as she is to make me cry for her doom. Dracula dying makes me go oh no. A rapist serial killer just died. Tragique.

-Want a vampire/human pair where the human chooses to walk with the vampire into eternal twilight? Let Jonathan complete his blasphemous vow. Actually focus on his trauma and how much he feared and hated vampires and how he chose certain death over vampirism, to give to his oath the gravity it deserves.

-Oh and want to also do "the vampire is suffering from being cursed by their God"? Mina is right here. "I was betrayed. Look what your God has done to me" whines 1992 Dracula, motherfucker you started it! Mina didn't! And look what He did to her brow! She who always walked the path of righteousness. She was betrayed. She is the forsaken sinner you want!

Sorry for the essay oh gosh

Literally.

Instead of rushing Lucy's death so they can get to their fake ass romance, adaptations could just,,, make Lucy's death its own story. Draw it out! Have Bloofer Lucy be more lucid and have her beckoning to Arthur be in earnest. And in this case, the trope of the vampire realizing at the last second that murder is wrong and begging their lover to put them out of their misery is less convoluted because Lucy knew that murder was wrong when she was human and Dracula certainly fucking didn't, not if we're going with the stupid Vlad the Impaler route. Lucy had an inherent goodness that was robbed from her in death and Dracula was always a cunt even when they try to rewrite him to be sympathetic.

I'm seconds away from just writing a story where Dracula's death doesn't cleanse Mina of her vampirism and Jonathan goes down with her, I swear. But my artist brain keeps saying I gotta design their vampire selves first aaagh. You can also just have Lucy take a big bite out of Arthur without being hampered by VH. It might be anticlimactic, but hey, I wanna see at least one fanfic where it happens. There's only ever fanart.

Like the whole "God fucked up my life" thing is whatever. Supposedly human Dracula (who is always goddamn Vlad Tepes for no good reason) had a wife who died and decided to make that everyone else's problem. I fucking doubt this ol' thirteenth-century bitch saw his wives as anything more than property. You know who doesn't see their spouse as property? You know who would actually grieve their spouse's death? You want the tragic vampire grieving their dead spouse?? MINA HARKER IS RIGHT THERE. Maybe Jonathan dies and Mina just fucking goes feral because that was the last damn straw and now she's going to murder God.

Your essay is appreciated, I was just vibing.

#queuing this post but be aware that I DID answer it right when I got it bc of course I'm up so late #someone tell me when arthur/lucy gets a proper ship name #please they need one #dracula #dracula daily #arthur holmwood #lucy westenra #arthur x lucy #mina harker #mina murray #jonathan harker #jonathan x mina #jonmina #update #people ask me things

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gimmethemaneskin · 9 months

Text

Put Me In A Movie (Mickey Altieri Smut)

The deafening silence of the lecture hall was interrupted by the sound of my heels clacking down the steps, stopping once I arrived at the desk in the front of the room. Mickey had told me to meet him here so he could help me study for our exam on how movies influence culture and vice versa. With his extensive knowledge of movies, I thought he’d be the best to help me find the best references. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s nice to look at.

“Looks like I beat him here.” I whisper to myself, smoothing my short skirt over my butt to take a seat on the edge of the desk. I pull out my notebook and my notes from our last class, trying to seem like I had somewhat of an outline and not that he’s very much going to be helping write this essay. I hear the door slam as his voice echoes throughout the large room.

“Sorry! I got held up after class, there was something I had to take care of.” Mickey hustles down the stairs, panting slightly like he just ran across campus to get here.

“No worries, I haven’t been here long.” I glance him up and down quickly, so he doesn’t notice. Damn, how does he always looks so good? His tight black short sleeve clung to his chest with sweat, his purple button down discarded exposing his muscular arms. His hair tousled excessively, from him running his hands through it so often. Lips plump from his teeth repeatedly assaulting them. I watch them part as he starts talking about something but I’m too focused on what they would feel like against mine or..other places that I have to blink and shake myself out of it. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“Wow! Your attention span is amazing! I don’t know why you even need my help with this project.” He feigns enthusiasm while rummaging through his bag for his notes.

“Ha ha ha. You know, I think Randy’s around. Im sure he’d be happy to help.” I hop off the desk and move to walk past him, but he grabs my bicep and squeezes lightly. I feel the breath gasp from my lips and pray he couldn’t hear it.

“Yeah. By the time he stops tripping over his words and staring at your boobs, you might end up with a half decent paper.” He steps closer, looming down at me, still holding my arm. “Or you could have an amazing paper and a much better piece of eye candy.” He lets me go and steps back, gesturing to his body while wiggling his eyebrows at me. God, he’s so corny.

“Alright, you’re a bit overdressed for how I usually like my eye candy but you’ll do.” I brush past him and take a seat in the front pew. I wonder if he can tell how desperate I am to get him out of his clothes. If he’s caught on, he’s doing a horrible job at making me pay attention to his words. Stepping up to the desk, he slides his hand up the front of his shirt revealing his happy trail, his toned, tan stomach, all the way to his chest. He playfully unveils a nipple before pulling the shirt down with mock embarrassment. I smirk and roll my eyes, crossing my legs to apply pressure to my clit that’s already throbbing in between my legs. The horniness in my brain has completely overshadowed whatever reasoning I had left when I utter “Why don’t we play a game instead?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “What kind of game?” The kind where you absolutely rail me.

“Well since I know your dick is always hard when it comes to horror movies, why don’t we play some trivia, with a twist. You describe a killer and I have to guess the film. If I get one right, then you have to lose a piece of clothing. If I lose-”

“Oh, I can see where this is heading.” He cuts me off, staring intently at me from where he’s leaning on the desk. He pushes off after a moment of us just looking into each others eyes. He grasps the seat I’m in on either side and leans in to my face like he’s gonna kiss me. He pants out his breath slightly, so close I could lick his face. I feel myself leaning in unconsciously, when he says “You’re on.” and goes back to staring at his notes. He faces me, looking very serious.

“This killer only uses a knife and doesn’t say a word.”It doesn’t take me long with my answer.

“Easy. Michael Myers, Halloween.” He claps, winking at me before pulling his shirt over his head. He tosses it at me and I grab it, placing it on the chair next to me.

“Alright, this killer…” He trails, racking his brain for a good one.“This killer has mommy issues.”

“You’re letting me win at this point, Norman Bates.” I bite my lip, ready for my eyes to feast on more of his skin. He imitates a buzzer noise.

“Nope, wrong. It was Jason Voorhees.” He gestures to my blouse, ready to see some of my skin.

“That’s not fair, how would I have gotten that?”

“Hey, I didn’t come up with the game to avoid my responsibilities.” He turns his head while smirking at me. I sigh, standing to start unbuttoning my top. He licks his bottom lip, instinctively as I get lower. I thank myself for actually wearing a cute bra today instead of no bra like usual, but I know I was already fantasying about this moment since he agreed to help me. I pull the fabric out from my skirt where it was tucked in and toss it with his shirt next to me. I feel a sense of confidence wash over me as he takes in my figure. Striding up next to him, I take a seat back on the desk. Crossing my legs making my skirt ride up higher on my thigh.

“Well?” He blinks a few times and clears his throat, continuing the little game.

“This killer is from another dimension and feeds on fear.” I laugh, he really isn’t trying at all.

“Pennywise the dancing clown, otherwise known as IT.” I reach out a hand and tap the button on his pants. “What’re you waiting for, Mickey?” I bring my voice down while leaning toward him. He contemplates taking them off before looking back at me.

“Ya know, it would probably be bad if we got caught in here. Not wearing clothes. Someone might get the wrong idea. I mean, this is a study session after all.” He places his hands on either side of me again, while I uncross my legs so he can stand between them. I decide I've been teased enough and run my hands up his hips to his chest. His eyes flutter closed as I move to drag my hands down the length of his arms to his wrists. He quickly grabs me instead, holding my wrists together in front of me like I’m cuffed. I watch as his eyes pan up my body slowly, lingering on my chest for a moment before looking back into my eyes from under his lashes. I pull my hands from his grasp to cradle his face, bringing his ear to my lips to whisper,

“If you’re so scared, go lock the door and pull the curtain.” He looks for any sign I’m joking before turning heel and jogging towards the back of the room. He glances back to smirk at me momentarily, causing him to trip up the stairs and I can’t help the loud cackle I let out before clamping my hand over my mouth. He finally makes it to the top, looking both ways out the door before lightly closing and locking it, pulling the shade firmly down and turning the shades on the other windows beside it as well. Luckily, its a Friday so most of the staff and students had already gotten the fuck out of here and the few loiterers would most likely be on their way out too. Mickey takes the steps two at a time, undoing his pants as he does. Once he reaches me, he puts his hand behind my neck and kisses me fiercely. His lips soften after a moment, parting to lick across mine. I push my tongue against his as he envelopes my mouth, his free hand grabbing my hips and pulling me to the edge of the table. He pulls back, panting and slides his hands up the outside of my thighs, pushing my skirt up then pulling my thong down. I lift up to slip them off, watching as he shoves them into his pocket. I tilt my head to the side, raising a brow at him.

“What? I don’t want any evidence left and forgotten.” He lays his palm on my chest, pushing me to lay on my back. Lowering himself to his knees, he spreads my legs further apart. His hands rest on my inner thighs as he rubs circles with his thumbs absentmindedly. Leaning in, he presses a soft kiss right above my clit before pulling away sharply. I recoil, wondering if he heard something. “Wait! I need to grab something.” He runs over to his bag, moving things around rapidly. He grabs one thing, begins to leave before reaching in again and returning to his kneeling position in front of me. He places the first item, a condom, on the table next me and takes the second item in both of his hands, presenting it to me.

“A camera?” I ask, not as if I don’t know what a camera looks like but wondering what exactly he’s trying to film.

“Better. A video camera.” He says, giddily. “I wanna make a movie with you.” He whispers against my lips, pulling my bottom lip with his teeth, looking at me for an answer.

“I think you take your major a bit too seriously sometimes.” I flick my tongue against his lips, which he parts to devour my mouth, cupping my head as if I’d pull away.

“ ’S that a yes?” He pants, before replacing his mouth so I don’t get a chance to respond. I finally undo his pants, sliding my hand against the ridge of his hip bone and lower. Taking his almost fully hard cock in my hand, I slowly begin stroking the head, smearing his precum around and the noise that escapes him makes me clamp my legs around the back of his toned thighs.

“As long as this isn’t apart of your grade, I’m down.” I pant when he finally pulls back. The speed at which he sets up the camera could give cheetahs a run for their money. He positions it so its focused on him between my legs. He looks up through his lashes again, smirking that somewhat menacing, but overall arousing, smirk at me. Mickey wastes no more time, licking up my pussy to my clit, flicking the tip up and down roughly before taking it into his warm, wet mouth. He moans into my skin, sucking harder as he pulls back and lets go with a pop. He continues to lick through my labia, dipping his tongue into my hole, only the tip at first then plunging the whole thing inside me. The feeling of his warm tongue jabbing up into my g spot while he brings two of his fingers to my clit makes me bite down on my lip hard. If I hadn’t already been so horny, I could’ve let him do this forever. However, Mickey is also overeager and his quick motions and intensity on my clit is building my orgasm faster than I expected. I grip his hair from the root, tugging a bit hard. “Mickey, you’re gonna make me cum.”

He pulls his tongue out, slowing the circles he’s rubbing on my clit.

“Well, I can’t have that. Not yet.” He removes his hands from me completely, looking into my eyes as he brings his fingers covered in my wetness to my mouth. Moving the camera to make sure its capturing everything, he pushes them past my parted, panting lips and I close them, now running my tongue up and down the underside of them and rolling it around the tips so he can imagine what he has in store for him. Mickey’s hazel eyes glimmer in the light of the midday sun coming in through the cracks of the curtains behind the desk I’m perched on, the hunger in them more evident than the bulge in his pants. My horny brain will never be able to forget how his face looks, half cast in shadow, half glowing in the sunlight as he pulls his pants down past his hip bones, his dick bouncing up as his toned legs come into my view. I firmly grab him, swiping my thumb over his slit before slowly pumping while twisting my wrist. He leans forward to kiss me roughly, taking a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back. I fight against him for a minute, wanting to prolong the kiss as well as enjoying the sting on my scalp. Our mouths part with a loud pop from the way he was sucking on my bottom lip. He pushes me to lay back on the desk a second time, he then makes his way around the desk and positions my head over the edge of the desk. He leans down close to my face.

“Open your mouth.” He states and I feel a flood of wetness between my thighs. I open my mouth, sticking out my tongue to which Mickey groans. He purses his lips and spits into my mouth, his warm saliva dripping down my tongue into my throat. “Don’t swallow it.”

He stands again, grasping his dick in his hand, he taps the tip to my lips twice before I part them. Immediately he slides into my mouth, pushing as far as he can go before I gag. I start to add suction as he repeatedly thrusts into my throat, treating me like the whore I am, keeping my tongue out so I can slide it against his balls occasionally. He places his hand on my throat as he slowly starts to push further into my throat. I hold my breath as I feel his dick twitch against where he has his hand around my neck. “Fuck, you feel so good.” I hum in response, making Mickey roll his eyes back in pleasure. I clench my legs together, throbbing at the lack of friction I’m receiving while looking at the aroused distress on Mickey’s face. He pulls out almost all the way, my lips contracting around his tip to trap it in my mouth. I begin flicking my tongue against his frenulum before swirling it around a few times and sucking it further into my mouth.

“Goddamn, if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum.” He pulls back, taking a step so he can look at my red face, covered in mine and his spit.

“Well, I can’t have that.” I use his words from earlier as I flip myself around to face him, standing up. I lean in to kiss him and he leans as well, before quickly turning me around and bending my over the desk. His chest presses to my back as he whispers in my ear “Im gonna destroy you, baby.” With that, he starts to push his swollen head into my wet entrance. Even with so much foreplay, its a tight fit. He’s a decent length, about 8 inches if I’m correct but the thickness of his cock is what’s stretching me in such a delicious way. I can feel my walls give way finally as his tip fully penetrates me, widening just enough to accommodate him. He huffs out a breath as he continues to fit himself inside me, pulling out slightly as he gets to about halfway then sliding back in further than before. He repeats this until he pushes his hips forward all the way, his balls lightly slapping against my clit, which is enough to make me clamp down on him. As I do, his hands grip into the skin of my shoulders, stabilizing himself before he pulls back and slams back in. Mickey’s barely moved and I can already tell that I’m not gonna last. His pace quickens, fucking my pussy open so he can slip in and out more easily. I hear the loud smack of his hand coming down on my ass cheek, the sting coming a moment after causing a new flood of wetness to gush down his dick, dripping down my thighs. Mickey realizes the affect it had so he does it again to the opposite cheek this time, alternating two more times on each side before groping my ass in his palms, his big hands moving with ease over my rapidly reddening skin. At this point, my ears are deaf to the noises slipping past my lips, consumed only in the feeling of Mickey’s skin slapping mine. I reach a hand down between my legs to cup his balls in my hand, isolating each one and lightly rolling them between my fingers. I feel them tighten as I go, clearly making it difficult for Mickey not to cum. He wraps his hand around my throat once more, pulling my body flush against him. Pressing a chaste kiss to my jaw, he then turns me around to face him again. I sit on the desk as he guides me to do so, legs still spread as far as is comfortable. The new position makes me moan unconsciously as he pushes back in, hoisting one of my legs into the crook of his arm to get deeper. He thrusts hard into my g spot, making me grip onto his forearms with my nails digging into his flesh. The half hiss half groan he lets out alerts me that he’s also getting off on the pleasure of the pain. I pull his face back to mine so I can taste him while he fucks into me at debilitating pace, each time hitting my g spot and making me clench around him harder. I know he can tell I’m close because he speeds up, pumping into me so rapidly I can’t help but cum without warning. A gush of cum begins to coat him, making it easier to ram into me harder and faster as his own orgasm builds. He pulls out of me suddenly to turn me the long way on the desk, crawling on top of me and immediately resuming his assault on my coochie. He holds my legs back, bent towards my face as he slows down to watch his dick slowly disappear inside me, pulling out agonizingly slow, then pushing back in inch by inch. He leans down to take one of my nipples into his mouth, circling his tongue around the bud before clamping his teeth around it and biting down, pulling up at the same time as he starts to pound me harder than before. My hands instinctively grip the sides of the desk for leverage, my head scraping along the edge each time he plows his cock fully into my fluttering walls. I watch his eyes roll back as he brings his fingers back to my clit, sending a new wave of pleasure through me. I reach up to squeeze my titties as he matches the pace on my clit to his hips driving into me. The bruises from his hip bones will be so worth it tomorrow. Something snaps in him as he gets closer, pushing my legs back as far as they’ll go while he grips my thighs harshly. His pace most definitely the fastest its been as his cock splits me open, the skin around my vagina expanding to his will. I feel myself begin to shake as my orgasm creeps up, clenching and unclenching around Mickey wildly before I whimper “Fuck, Mickey I’m gonna cum.” Just uttering the words makes me arch my back into the pleasure overcoming me, cumming so hard it makes his thrusts stutter, my pussy so tight he can barely continuing obliterating me. He grabs onto my left tit with one hand, the other squeezing my hip like a python as he mutters out “Uhh, I’m gonna..-FUCK.” He pulls out fast, pumping his cock only twice before his hot cum is splattered all over my chest and stomach, some landing in the ends of my hair. He falls forward onto my chest, groaning so deliciously as he grinds down into me. His dick sliding across my stomach, smearing his seed around. He stands, much to my dismay and clears his throat.

“I hope this study sesh helped you understand things better cause I sure know a lot more now than I did entering this hall.” He says as he uses a tissue to wipe me off, leaning down to place a soft kiss to the top of my thigh.

“Oh yes, I feel so much more confident about the assignment now.” I pant out, still trying to compose myself. He quickly puts his pants back on then tosses me my blouse and skirt. Once we quickly redress I start to talk as does Mickey.

“Go ahead.” He laughs with sigh. I clear my throat, thinking my words over.

“I was just gonna say, I do also need help in biology. If you're free tomorrow night, you could come by my dorm so we can…study.” I cast my eyes down, not wanting to meet his eyes in case he’s not a fan of this being more than a one time thing. I see him step towards me as he says “We don’t need an excuse for me to fuck you stupid if its in your own dorm.” I chuckle along with Mickey as I shake my head. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He snatches the camera off the table and stops the recording. “I’ll be needing this for when I’m going to bed tonight.”

#mickey altieri #mickey altieri smut #scream #scream 2

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