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javiscigarette · 3 months

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Teacher's Pet, part II

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: Joel gives you a few more lessons and a few more feelings start to surface. (Picks up right where part one left off so I recommend reading that first!)

Warnings: unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, oral (m!receiving), fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, ungodly amount of pet names, unprotected sex, virginity loss (it's the real deal this time), he's back and more annoying than ever but still just as sweet, disgustingly fluffy at times, reader has hair he can run his fingers through but no other physical descriptions, no use of y/n

w/c: ......10.5k I am so sorry

a/n: It's here! I kept changing my mind with how I wanted this to go so hopefully I landed on something good. I'm absolutely still blown away by the amount of love and support you guys gave on part one :'))) you are all incredible. Hoping and praying this one lives up to everyone's expectations

Part One

my masterlist

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense is betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you. "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me." "The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to." "Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.” "That's some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Getting on your knees for Joel Miller wasn’t exactly on your agenda for today.

Not that you’re really complaining.

He doesn’t look bad from this angle, you have to admit. His chest looks broader from where you are on your knees in front of him, if that’s even possible. His hair is messy and tousled from where your fingers pulled and tugged with a pretty red flush spreading down his neck and chest, and the soft curve of his belly looking positively sinful.

“First lesson is how to take a man’s pants off,” Joel starts. “Think you can handle that? Or do you need a demonstration first?”

You scowl up at him, his words pulling you out of your transfixation on his body.

“Shut up,” you hiss. “I can take your pants off.”

He grins and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Go on then. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but take a steadying breath, trying your best to calm your pounding pulse and trembling fingers as you reach up for his belt buckle. The metallic jingle has your heart fluttering in your chest, and you make quick work of the rest, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans until they’re hanging open in front of you.

You stop for a moment and glance up at him. He’s looking down at you, a soft encouraging smile playing on his lips.

“S’okay, baby. Keep goin’,” he murmurs, nodding his head once.

You give him a small nod and a tight swallow around the lump in your throat, dropping your gaze back to the task at hand. Gently, gingerly, you hook your fingers in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down simultaneously.

A tiny, barely audible gasp escapes you when his cock springs free and bobs heavily in front of you.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, too stunned to stop the words from slipping out.

“Just Joel if fine, actually.”

You barely even register his jab and you definitely don’t have the bandwidth to come up with any kind of witty comeback right now, your mind too busy processing the sight before you. Sure, you’ve seen plenty of dicks before, the internet can be a magical place. But this, in person, up close and so real, is an entirely new experience.

He's big, thick, heavy, and long with a slight upward curve. The tip is flushed a deep pink, shiny with smeared precome with more beading at the slit. A few thin veins run from his base to his tip up the length in a twisting pattern, the dark hair at his base neatly trimmed. And he’s hard, so much so that it looks nearly painful and your stomach flutters know that you're the one who did that to him.

"You can touch it, y'know." Joel says softly after a few moments of silence. "It ain't gonna bite."

"Oh my god" you groan, bringing up a hand to scrub down your face as he pulls you out of your awe.

"Again, just Joel is fine."

He laughs proudly at his own joke and you drop your hands in your lap and stare up at him in disbelief.

"Oh c'mon! You walked right into that one, no need to get all-"

He cuts himself off with a hiss, the air escaping between his teeth and his head falling back as your hand wraps around him, squeezing just a little too tight to be pleasant. He staggers half a step backward, hips jerking away from your grip.

"You were saying?'' you ask sweetly, grinning up at him.

"Fuckin' christ, woman. You're tryin' to get me off not break it off"

You loosen your grip a little but keep your hand still and look at him with expectant eyes, waiting for further instruction. It's not that you don't know what to do, you just don't know how to do it well. How to do it for him.

You want to do well for him.

The realization should alarm you, scare you even. But you find it only spurs you on, only makes the want burning inside of you even more potent and pressing. You want to make him moan, gasp, make his body writhe beneath your touch. You want him to be breathless, shivering, and panting with pleasure. You want to make him come undone, just like you did for him.

"Okay" he starts, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. "Lesson two is learning what he likes. Everyone's a lil different, but the basics are the same."

The nerves in your gut twist almost painfully, the anxiety of it all getting you half a second away from tapping out.

But your decision is set in stone when he drops his hand to yours where it’s wrapped around him, giving a light squeeze before he starts to gently guide your movements.

"Start slow,” he starts, a light strain tainting the edges of his voice. “Nice and gentle. Wanna work up to it."

You nod and watch, focused intently as if you were actually a student in class as the head of his cock disappears and reappears in your fist. His hand covers yours nearly entirely as he drags it up and down while you try and memorize where he squeezes a little tighter, when he swipes his thumb over the head.

“Can give a little twist at the top,” he murmurs, voice low as he demonstrates what he means. “There you go, baby. Just like that,” he sighs when you do the same.

Once satisfied, he removes his hand, letting you take control. You continue to pump him, trying to replicate the movements he just showed you. His cock is a warm, heavy weight in your hand, twitching and pulsing every now and then when you twist your wrist just right or swipe your thumb over his head like he showed you, collecting and spreading his precome to ease your strokes.

Your confidence builds with each stroke and soon enough you start to experiment with your pace, switching between faster and slower. He gently rocks his hips in time with your hand, unable to resist thrusting forward just slightly.

The fire inside you burns even hotter at the shaky breath that he lets out above you, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire before settling low in your belly, your core aching and pulsing with it.

"This good?" you ask concerned, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lets out a breathless chuckle and looks down at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"Yeah, honey. Real good," he rasps, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You match his smile, biting your lip and basking in his praise, a warm, gooey feeling spreading outwards from your heart to the tips of your fingers and toes. It's like he has a direct link to the inner workings of your brain and body with how effortlessly he can make you melt, with just a soft, easy smile and a few well chosen words.

"Should I...do you want my mouth?" you ask, glancing between his flushed, leaking cock and his hooded eyes.

"God yes, baby. J-just start slow. Lick the tip, get a feel for it. Don't try to take too much right away," he instructs, his voice constricting more and more with each word.

"So I shouldn't try to fit all of your giant cock in my mouth on my first go?" you quip, raising a brow.

"Please don't" he chuckles. "Don't want ya pukin’ all over the place. Might kill the mood," he adds with a grin.

You shake your head and let out a light laugh, the sound trailing off into a content hum when he brings his hand to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, dull nails scratching lightly at your scalp.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh, leaning into the touch.

"You love it."

You do, so, so much.

"Now c'mon. You've got work to do," he teases, his hand gently tugging at your hair.

You comply easily enough, leaning forward and tenderly swiping your tongue across the slit, licking up the precome that's gathered there. He hisses, a rush of hair pushing past his clenched teeth as his cock twitches in your hand, a fresh bead of precome forming.

With your confidence renewed by his reaction, you do it again, pressing your tongue flat against the slit and swirling it slowly around his swollen tip all while your hand still works him at a steady pace.

Emboldened, you take it a step further and close your lips around him, sealing them around the head to give him a slow, experimental suck. The groan he rewards you with has sparks shooting down the length of your spine.

"That's it. Good girl. Just like that," he pants, fingers tugging and tightening in your hair.

His praise washes over you in another wave of warmth, a feeling akin to a full-body shiver that has goosebumps breaking out over your skin. It strokes your ego, pride and confidence filling you as his soft moans and grunts fuel the fire burning in your belly.

Encouraged by the way he’s already falling apart, you take him a little deeper. It’s only a few inches but your lips are already stretched wide, a slight ache already settling in your jaw from how wide it's being forced open.

You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while you start to bob your head, trying to match the pace of your hand. But the motions are new and unfamiliar, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated and when he hits the roof of your mouth, your gag reflex kicks in forcing you to pull off quickly, coughing and sputtering.

"Easy. Easy," Joel soothes, his fingers scratching at your scalp again. "Try to breathe through your nose. And don't don't force it, yeah? Feels good, just the way you were doin' it."

"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Ain't nothing to be sorry for. S’your first time. It takes practice. Now, c'mon. Try again. Nice and easy. And if this man tries to-"

But you're not in the mood for another Joel Miller Life Lesson, especially when he’s about to mention the other man who's name you can barely even remember anymore.

Thankfully, his words dissolve into a groan when you take him back in your mouth, your lips wrapping around his sensitive head, tongue flat where it slowly glides down the underside of his cock as you take him deeper.

The ache in your core is quickly growing more and more incessant. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers and tongue on you, your inner thighs wet and sticky with the memory. And the sinful sounds he’s making, whispered curses between breathy moans and grunts, are not exactly helping your case.

You manage to take a little more, his thick cock stretching your mouth wider, forcing your jaw open even further. You gag slightly around him again but you’re determined to push through it this time. YOu squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in harshly through your nose as saliva dribbles past the tight seal of your mouth and drips onto your hand, your fist diligently pumping what you can't take.

He responds with a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking forward, chasing after the sensation of your throat convulsing around him.

You're still only a little over halfway down and it's a quick realization that you'll never be able to get it all down your throat. Maybe you can try and practice, but it’s practically a pipe dream to even think about getting his whole cock into your throat without choking to death on it.

But that's a problem for another day.

For the next time.

For now, you hollow out your cheeks and suck as you pull back, tongue swirling along the underside until his cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your swollen, spit-slicked lips to his glistening tip.

You use your hand to spread the wetness, mixing it with the precome that's leaking steadily from the flushed head. The smooth glide allows you to speed up your pace as you look up at him through your lashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

He's staring down at you with hazy, lust blown eyes, his jaw hanging open, panting heavily.

"How am I doing, Professor?" you tease with an innocent smile. A lazy grin slowly spreads on his face in return.

"You’re a fuckin’ natural, baby," he mumbles, his hand moving from where it's tangled in your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your flushed cheek, "My good girl."

And maybe, most likely, the words slipped out unintentionally, the heat of the moment forcing out things that he doesn’t really mean. But all the alarms and sirens in your head warning yourself to not fall too deep into this trap that is Joel Miller with his pretty words and sweet praises and soft smiles are all dead silent right now. There’s not a single part of your brain that’s trying to resist him right now. You doubt you could even if you wanted to.

Because he just called you his girl.

His.

To say you’re fucked would be the understatement of the century.

You hum, pressing your cheek into his palm, wanting, needing, craving more. More of his touch, his taste, his warmth, his cock, his praise. So you take him back in your mouth with a renewed determination, spurred on by his words, wanting to prove to him that he's right, that you are his good girl. Determined to show him that you can make him feel good, that you can please him, that he'll want more of you, need more of you.

And judging by the way his grip on your hair is almost painful, his thighs trembling as he holds himself still, fighting the urge to jerk his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat, you'd say you're doing a damn good job

"Makin’ me feel so good, baby. So fuckin' good," he pants when you take him a little deeper.

You whine quietly around him as you press your sticky thighs together. White hot heat pooling low in your belly, your neglected cunt throbbing and aching, slick, wet, and messy.

You squirm in your spot, rubbing your thighs together and grinding down on nothing in desperate search for the slightest bit of friction. You pray that the movement is subtle enough for Joel not to notice.

As if that’s possible.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Joel starts, his tone annoyingly saccharine and condescending as he smirks down at you. “Did we forget somethin’ important?”

Another small whimper is all you can muster, too focused and preoccupied with the way his thick length is filling your mouth, the weight and taste of him on your tongue dizzying and addicting.

“Well look at that,” he coos, his hand leaving your hair and sliding down your cheek to cradle your jaw. He swipes swiping over your bottom lip that’s stretched around his length, smearing the spit that’s gathered there.

“Think I finally found a way to shut ya up. We should’a done this a long time ago. Woulda saved me a lot of headaches,” he chuckles, the sound dissolving into a sharp hiss when you dig your nails into the tender skin of the back of his thigh, hard enough to leave a mark.

You pull off his cock with a wet pop, jaw aching as you glare up at him.

"I'd shut up if I were you" you warn, the threat of your words completely lost in the breathless, desperate way they leave your mouth. "Just one good chomp is all it would take" you add, clicking your teeth together for emphasis.

But Joel's face just splits into a grin, a full blown, infuriating smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Biting huh? Now that’s a little kinky. Didn't know you had it in you, sweetheart."

"Shut up," you snap, but it still lacks any real heat, not with the way your lips are twitching at the corners, fighting a smile, your eyes undoubtedly sparkling, your heart definitely leaping out of your chest at the way his eyes are boring into yours.

"Careful, sweetheart. Might have to knock you down a whole letter grade for that type of talk. Gotta respect your professor ‘n all, y’know."

"You're insufferable," you grumble.

"But yet, here you are, still on your knees."

"And I'm gonna get up and leave if you don't stop talking."

"Leave before or after you chomp my dick off? Cause I'd really like a heads up for that, if ya could."

"Jesus fucking christ, Joel!" You huff, rolling your eyes so hard it actually hurts. "Do you ever just shut the fuck up? I'm literally on my knees right now with your dick in my mouth and you're still finding ways to piss me off!"

“What can I say? It’s a special talent of mine,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, the smug smile on his face making you want to genuinely bite his dick off now.

You drop the wet hand you had wrapped around him and start to move to your feet.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go. Maybe I'll call my coworker. He's not nearly as irritating as you," you huff, pushing yourself up onto shaky legs, your knees stiff and sore.

But you can't even take one step before he's grabbing your waist, his large, warm palm resting firmly on the swell of your hip. His fingers flex, his grip tightening, not enough to hurt, but it's enough to halt you in your tracks. You're not particularly fond of the way your heart skips a beat in your chest, the way you can feel goosebumps breaking out all over your body from just his touch.

He pulls you in closer until your chest is pressed against his, hard, wet cock pressed against your bare thigh.

"You really think you’re gonna leave with your pussy drippin' all over the place like that?” he says, his voice seamlessly switching from teasing to low and rough as his dark, hungry eyes bore into yours. “You're about to ruin my floors with the way you're leakin' right now, baby. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment from how easily he was able to see your desperation, and with anger at how right he is.

"Shut the fuck up, Joel," you mumble, giving him a weak push at his chest. "I'm not leaking I-"

The rest of your sentence stays lodged in your throat when his free hand slips between your thighs. Two deft fingers drag through the slick mess, collecting your arousal and spreading it around, a soft, wet, obscene sound filling the space between you.

You don't even think to stop the high pitched, breathy whine from escaping your lips when he slides a thick finger inside you with no warning, your pathetic sound dissolving into a moan when he immediately follows it up with a second one, his palm pressed flat against your clit.

"Not leaking, hmm? Sure don't seem like it, baby," he purrs, his voice a low, rumbling drawl, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. "Feel that? How easy it was for me to get two fingers in ya?"

"Fuck," you whine as you dig your nails into the bare skin of his shoulder, hanging on to him and desperately searching for any semblance of stability as you try not to sway on shaky legs.

He crooks his fingers in you, fingertips digging into the spongy spot on your front wall that has your knees buckling, tiny stars dotting your vision momentarily as a rush of arousal gushes out of you, a pitiful whimper falling from your lips. Joel chuckles, low and dark and the sound shoots straight to your neglected clit, a bolt of lightning arcing down your spine.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he murmurs, nosing at the sensitive skin below your ear, the faint scrape of his beard against your cheek sending a shiver down your spine.

The feeling of him removing his fingers is a cruel, sudden jolt, the emptiness and lack of pressure and friction has you keening, a needy, impatient noise bubbling up from your throat.

He's moving before you can complain though, stepping around you to sit on the edge of the bed and then promptly pulling you down onto his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise as he forces you to straddle his thigh, pulling you down until your aching cunt is seated firmly against his bare skin. The position has his cock pressing against your hip, a drop of precome smearing against your skin.

"Fuckin' soaked for me, honey,” he drawls, his fingertips dimpling the soft skin of your hips. “And to think you were about to leave without gettin' what you came here for.”

You can't even speak, too enraptured with the feeling of his strong muscles flexing subtly under your hypersensitive clit. So you ignore his teasing and just grind down instead, past the point of desperation.

But he would never let you win that easily, would he?

He laughs and tightens his grip on your hips, stopping your movement and holding you in place.

"Ah-ah, not so fast, baby. Let's talk about the terms first."

You give him the best glare you can muster while suppressing a needy whimper.

"Terms?"

"Yeah. Terms. Of all this. Like if this is a one time thing, or if we're gonna be havin' regular...lessons," he replies, his hands slowly sliding up your waist and coming to rest on your ribs, his thumbs stroking the undersides of your breasts.

"If you're gonna go out with this guy," he continues, his thumbs brushing over both of your nipples. "Or if I'm the only one who's gonna get to see this," he says, leaning forward, his warm breath fanning over your skin. You bite your lip, holding in the soft, needy moan threatening to spill out when his lips press to the hollow of your throat.

"If I'm the only one who gets to have you like this. If I'm the only one who's allowed to touch you. To kiss you," he says, punctuating his last word with a kiss to the center of your chest, his hands squeezing the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking out and licking at your nipple.

"Or do you plan on letting him have you too?" He asks, the tip of his tongue swirling around your nipple before closing his lips around the pebbled peak, sucking it into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it before he pulls back. "'Cause I'm not too keen on sharin', baby."

You take a deep steadying breath, trying to clear the thick haze that's clouding your mind and focus on his words, his questions about the fucking terms.

And you do think about it, about your coworker who's been nothing but so sweet to you, who doesn't get on your nerves in under a millisecond. The coworker, Micheal, you think, his name finally returning to you, who doesn't tease you and play games and leave you a panting, needy, dripping mess.

And while he is really such a perfect gentleman, he isn’t the one that’s been there for you, listening to you complain about all the shitty things that have happened to you in the last year. He isn’t the man that lets you use him as a punching bag whenever you’re frustrated, has never been the calm, reasonable voice that challenges the anxiety that overwhelms you and threatens to pull you under.

Michael has never held you when you've cried, never helped you cook dinner after a hard day at work, never fixed the flickering light in your bathroom. He certainly has never dropped a key to his front door in your palm accompanied by a lopsided smile and the words just in case ya need anything.

Michael isn’t the one who’s been the one to pick up your pieces and put you back together, so gently and tenderly, making you even better than you were before.

It's useless, trying to avoid it. Trying to push it down, bury it, ignore it, how you've been feeling and what you want.

It’s Joel.

All of it.

You want Joel.

All of him.

You've wanted him since the day you showed up on his porch with a six pack. You've wanted him all those times you watched from a distance as he fixed something in your house, so capable and competent, casually waving away your slew of thank yous. You wanted him every single time he invited you over for a movie night, sitting close enough to you on his couch that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You wanted him every time he made your blood boil and your eyes roll so hard you swore you could see the back of your brain, and every time you genuinely thought you were going to smack him.

And now, you have him.

Right here, naked and hard and underneath you, your pussy leaking on his thigh.

The answer is so painfully obvious, the words falling from your lips before you even have a chance to process them.

"M'not gonna see him," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Want this. Want you."

Joel hums, indicating that he heard you. But again, he would never let you win that easily.

"Speak up, baby," Joel says, releasing your nipple with a soft pop, his eyes dark and intense, a predatory, feral glint in them. "Can't hear you."

And it's infuriating and annoying, absolutely maddening. And it's the last straw.

You're not sure if it's the frustration, or the pent up desire, or the heat burning inside you, or the fact that Joel's still hard, and still leaking precum against your hip, as your cunt slides against his thigh, but you break.

You absolutely shatter.

"I want you!" you practically shout, hands balling into fists where they're resting on his shoulders.

"You, okay? You! You and your stupid, fucking, annoying ass, and your dumbass pickup truck, and your stupid, charming grin, and the way you always call me 'baby', and 'honey', and 'sweetheart'. It drives me fucking insane! And the way you're always fixing shit, and being so fucking helpful and sweet and you always, always make me laugh, and smile, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the past year that I didn’t think about you and I can’t get you out of my fucking head, not even for a single fucking second.”

The words spill from your lips in a breathless tirade, and it feels good, freeing. It's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, like a great burden has been taken off of you.

But the feeling doesn't last long.

Silence stretches between you and it's suffocating, oppressive, and you feel like the walls are closing in on you, panic rising in your chest.

Your cheeks burn, nauseating embarrassment and humiliation coursing through you as you realize the full weight of what you just word-vomited all over him. Your chest heaves, and you hang your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

But then, a bright laugh sounds through the otherwise quiet room. And your eyes snap to Joel's face, only to find him smiling.

He's fucking laughing.

"Joel!" you scold, a mixture of mortification and confusion washing over you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he placates, but the laughter in his voice doesn't help to ease your nerves. "I didn't mean to laugh, it's just...I just can't believe how dense you are."

The daggers you shoot at him are truly deadly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you think I just go around callin' everyone 'baby' and 'sweetheart'?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I..." you stammer, trailing off as his words sink in.

"I mean, my southern charm is one thing,” he says, obnoxiously wiggling his eyebrows. “But you’re seriously thick if you think I'm like this with anyone else.”

You stare blankly at him, trying to process what he’s saying.

“Do you think I let all the neighbors just use me for free handy work, think I cook dinner with all of them, think I keep a stash of everyone’s favorite snacks in my pantry, give everyone a fuckin’ key to my front door? And you think I just go around agreeing to sex lessons to anyone who asks?” He rambles, squeezing your hip.

Your brain is reeling as you try to wrap your head around everything.

"Well...no” you stammer, your brows pinching together. “But…"

"How many other girls you seen me bringin' home? Huh? How many other girls you see me with?"

"None" you admit sheepishly.

"Mhm. Because I don't. Not since you moved in next door."

You frown, confusion clouding your features. You open your mouth to speak but Joel cuts you off.

"I like you, baby," he admits with a sigh. "A lot. Maybe too much. But I wasn't about to lose you as a friend just because I'm crazy about you. And if being your friend is the only way I can be close to you, then I'd take it and die a happy man."

You can only stare at him, the words he just spoke bouncing around in your brain, and a warmth blooms in your chest, your heart fluttering wildly in your ribcage.

"Are you kidding me?!" You exclaim suddenly, hitting his shoulder.

"Hey! Ow!" he barks, his eyes widening as he grabs his shoulder. "The fuck was that for?!"

"You've been trying to sleep with me for a whole year?!"

"I wouldn’t say trying," he says with a casual shrug. "Just waiting. Wanted you to take the lead but you’re a little stubborn, baby."

You scoff, glaring at him, not missing the way his lips twitch at the corners, the way his eyes sparkle with amusement.

"So, the reason why I haven't been able to catch a break the entire time we've known each other, has been because you've been trying to get in my pants? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Well, that part is just natural. You're just too easy to get riled up. And that’s not my fault."

You open your mouth to argue with him but his sliding over your hips to palm at your ass and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin.

"But no, I can't deny that I like it," he rasps, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "The way you get all fired up and angry, your face all flushed, your chest heaving. Mmm, it's nice. You look real pretty when you're all worked up and pissed off," he whispers, his lips curled in a smile when he presses a kiss to the spot below your ear before pulling back to look at you.

"Why didn't you tell me,” you say, voice softer now, the rough edges of your tone smoothed out by the feeling of his lips on your skin.

"Didn't want to make it weird. Didn't want you to think I was some creepy old man and ruin our friendship" he explains with a small shrug. "But then you came over here tonight askin’ for a sex lesson, which was not easy by the way, acting like I wasn't already about to burst outta my pants as soon as you asked. Thought for sure you were onto me. But then you started going on about that douche canoe Michael-"

"Joel."

"And then I got jealous and pissed, and figured it was time to cut my losses and just enjoy it while I can, but-"

"Joel."

"Then we were kissing and you were touchin’ me and you're so fucking sexy and-"

"Joel!"

"What?"

"Just kiss me, you idiot" you breathe, and before the words are even fully out of your mouth, his lips are on yours, crashing into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

It’s bruising, searing, all consuming.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass as he pulls you forward, the seam of your pussy dragging deliciously against the strong muscles under warm skin.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and tug, the base of your spine tingling when he groans softly into your mouth, and you grind your hips against his, the wet heat of your cunt grinding into his thigh, pulling another soft, low sound from his throat.

"Fuck" he groans, pulling away just far enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath coming in quick, sharp pants, his chest heaving. "Baby, are you still okay with this?" he breathes, voice ragged and gravelly.

You look at him as if he's grown a second head.

"Are you serious?"

""I...well, I was serious when I said I'd be fine with being your friend, and I don't want you to think I'm tryna pressure you into anything."

You can't help but roll your eyes, the soft, endearing side of Joel coming out at the worst possible time.

"I literally just admitted that I've had a crush on you for months, and now I'm sitting on your lap, soaked, and grinding on your thigh and you're worried I don't want this? I think you might be the dense one here."

He grins, wicked and wide, a flash of sharp teeth, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"Guess so," he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You don't respond, and instead choose to silence him by pulling him into a kiss, licking at the seam of his lips and sucking his tongue into your mouth. He groans softly into your mouth, and you swallow the noise, rolling your hips again, chasing the sweet friction that's sending a delicious heat through your veins.

"God, baby," he breathes when he pulls back for air, hands on your ass gripping and guiding you against his leg, encouraging your movements. "Makin' such a mess, ain't ya?"

You bite your lip, nodding as a wave of arousal surges through you.

"Yeah, you are. Soakin' my leg, sweet girl," he says, his eyes flicking down between you, watching as your pussy drags along his thigh, coating him in a shiny, slippery sheen.

"Fuck, Joel, please" you whine, your hips jerking and rolling against him.

And that's all the encouragement he needs.

In the blink of an eye, you're on your back, Joel hovering above you, a wild look in his eyes.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and husky, and he trails his fingers over your hip and up your ribs, his touch light, teasing, barely ghosting across your skin and it's almost ticklish, making you shiver. "M'gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good."

Your heart thunders in your chest, and your cunt throbs, your arousal leaking out of you. It feels like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin, the desperation growing with every passing second.

He trails his fingers down your sternum, and over the flat expanse of your stomach, goosebumps breaking out across your skin in his wake, the muscles under your skin rippling and twitching at the soft, fleeting touches.

And when he reaches the crease of your thigh, you let out a shaky, trembling breath, and he chuckles softly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

"Eager, are we?" he teases, dragging his fingers over the slick flesh between your legs, gathering the wetness pooled there before slowly sliding a single thick digit inside you. "We're gonna get there, baby. But gotta make sure you're ready first. Don't wanna hurt you.”

You whimper, your walls fluttering and clenching around his finger, and your hips roll forward, seeking friction, wanting, needing more.

Joel curses under his breath and groans softly when your wet, warm walls constrict around his finger. His cock leaks and twitches where it’s pressed against your thigh, and you whimper, both of you caught up in an endless cycle of keying each other up.

"Please, Joel" you beg, and the words come out soft, pleading, and desperate. You should probably be embarrassed at how quickly he's reduced you to a begging, quivering mess, but the way his eyes go dark, and his pupils blow wide, makes the embarrassment worth it.

"Please, what, baby?” He prods with a devilish smirk. “Use your words"

"You're such an asshole" you snap, but the venom in your voice is diluted with pleasure as he slips another finger inside you.

"You keep saying that. What d’ya want me to do about it, sweetheart? You want me to stop?" he taunts.

"No!" you cry out, reaching down and grabbing his wrist with an iron grip when he starts to pull out.

"Then tell me what you want, honey."

"Fuck you,” you mumble weakly.

"Mhm. Okay, honey" he drawls, his thumb moving to circle around your clit as his fingers curl inside you, still pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. . "I'll just wait then. Take my time. Tease your pretty little pussy until you can't stand it. I'm in no hurry, baby. Gonna take all night, if that's what it takes. I've waited this long."

"Joel, please" you whine again, the ache between your thighs turning to an unbearable burn.

"Tell me what you want,” he repeats casually.

"You," you try with a needy whimper.

"Me? You got me, sweetheart. What else?"

“Oh my fucking god can you please just fuck me? Or do I have to spell it out for you, old man?"

"There she is," Joel says with a laugh, his grin splitting his face "There's my girl"

And then his fingers are gone and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But before you can protest much more,, they're sliding back in, this time joined by a third.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him, nails digging into the soft flesh of his muscles.

"Oh fuck" you pant, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he starts pumping his fingers again.

"Gotta get ya ready, baby" he breathes, and his lips are ghosting along your jawline and up the shell of your ear, his breath warm. "Such a tight little pussy, but we'll get you nice and open, don’t worry. Then I'm gonna sink in ya, fill you up real nice. Take real good care of you, baby. Fuck you nice and deep, make you forget your name. Would you like that? Hmm?"

A strangled moan is all you can manage in response. His words, filthier and more deranged than any you've ever heard him speak before, sending your brain into overdrive.

You can’t help but roll your hips, and bucking, and gyrating, meeting his thrusts as his fingers pump in and out of you, the lewd, wet, sloppy sounds filling the otherwise quiet room, and the coil in your gut is threatening to snap.

"Joel, Joel, fuck, oh fuck" you chant, your hazy and thick with pure arousal. It drips down your spine and flows through your veins, liquid heat burning, searing, and scorching you from the inside out.

You manage to open your eyes long enough to look down and see the tendons flexing in his wrist, the muscles and veins in his forearm bulging as he works you, his face brows pinched in concentration as he focuses on your reactions.

"Oh shit, honey," Joel curses breathlessly, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels your slick pooling in his palm. “So messy, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna be a good girl and lemme feel your sweet little cunt clench and drip even more around my fingers?"

You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he thrusts his fingers into you, the heel of his palm rubbing deliciously against your clit. Your fingers scrabble for purchase, desperately seeking something, anything, to ground yourself. You settle for the firm muscle of his arms, your nails biting into his skin and leaving bright red marks that'll undoubtedly leave little half-moon bruises later

"Fuck, yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel. Give it to me."

You come with a cry, the dam breaking, the tension in your gut exploding outward, a wave of euphoria crashing over you, washing through every inch of your body. Your legs tremble and shake, and Joel works you through it, his fingertips nudging that spongy spot inside you, dragging his thumb across your throbbing clit, milking you through the aftershocks, and when you start to come down, you're panting and breathless, your chest heaving.

You look up at Joel, and his eyes are blown wide, the deep, rich brown of his irises nothing more than a thin, dark ring around his dilated pupils. There are no words, at least none that you can manage to articulate at the moment, so instead you let out a breathless laugh, and a contented hum, a smile spreading across your lips.

Joel grins, laughing, and he leans down to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.

"Good girl" he breathes against your mouth, his words a low, rough rumble that has you keening. "That feel good, baby?"

"Fuck, yeah" you sigh, melting into the matress.

"Good,” he says before pressing a kiss to your forehead then pulling back to look you in the eyes again. “ Think you're ready for me now?"

“Mhm,” you murmur with a lazy nod. “Want you, Joel.”

Joel laughs, the sound sweeter than it’s ever sounded before.. "You've got me, sweetheart. You've had me. Always will."

"That's awfully fucking sappy," you tease breathlessly, threading your fingers into his soft dark hair.

"The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to."

"Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, raising a brow at him.

"That’s some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Joel barks out a laugh, the sound coming out more like a snarl, his eyes flashing with something feral, predatory, and dangerous at your challenge.

And then he’s abruptly pulling his fingers from you then bringing them up to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the slick coating his fingers. The sight nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.

"So fuckin' sweet" he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed momentarily, and a low, satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. It's downright obscene, the way his lips wrap around his fingers, how he licks and sucks, cleaning your arousal off of them.

"Joel," you breathe, your voice nothing more than a shaky exhale.

His eyes snap open, and he gives you a lopsided smirk.

"Sorry, baby,” he starts, pulling his fingers from his mouth and wiping them on the blanket underneath you. “Can’t help myself. Just had to taste ya again. Gonna have a hard time not doing that every time,” he finishes with a sly smile.

Every time.

The words are like a shock of electricity shooting through your veins, setting your blood ablaze. Every time. As in multiple times.

How the fuck is this real?

He stupid smirk is still glued to his face as he leans over to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand. Your brows furrow when he pulls out a condom and goes to open it.

"I...uh..." you start, but the words die in your throat.

"What's wrong?" Joel asks, his smug expression immediately morphing into one of concern.

"I...well...it's just, I'm- I'm on the pill… We can use a condom, but...it's not necessary…just wanted to put that out there. In case, you know…you didn't wanna use one. Since it's not...like, not entirely necessary,” you say quietly, casting your eyes down to where your fingers fiddle with the edge of the blanket.

"Ahh, I see,” Joel responds, all too pleased. “You just want me to raw dog it, huh?”

"Wha-no! Oh my god, Joel, you are so fucking embarrassing," you groan, covering your face with your hands.

"S'okay, honey, don’t be embarrassed. It is all part of the full Joel Miller Experience anyway,” he reassures you with a sickeningly sweet tone..

"Oh my fucking god, I told you not to say that ever again,” you groan, shoving at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh. And you can feel yourself smiling too, despite how irked you are.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he relents, still laughing a little. "If you really don't want me to use one, I guess I can make an exception, just for you"

And it's as if he knows that you're about to lash out at him again, because he leans down and presses his lips to yours before you have a chance to say anything, all the fight in you draining away as soon as his mouth is on yours.

"You tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers when he pulls back. “Or if I do anything you're uncomfortable with, or if you just need a break. You let me know, okay?"

You nod.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Joel. Please just get on with it."

"Impatient" he breathes, but kisses you again nonetheless, soft, slow, and tender. And when he pulls away, his eyes are searching yours like he's looking for any signs of hesitancy. But all he sees is the same raw desire reflected back in your wide, eager eyes.

You see the exact moment that the last vestiges of his self-restraint disappear, his gaze growing darker and hungrier as he pushes himself up to sit back on his knees, one hand around the base of his cock, the other on the inside of your thigh as he tenderly spreads you open and settles himself between your legs.

He teases you of course, dragging his length through your folds, letting the swollen, leaking tip catch on your clit before sliding back down to nudge at your entrance. You whimper, and try to grind against him, but his hand is firm, holding your hip still, not allowing you any friction.

He hushes you softly, his thumb gently stroking the soft, delicate skin where your hip meets your thigh. "Just let me do what I need to do, baby. Let me take care of you.”

"You're evil," you whine, squirming underneath him.

"Yeah, well, that's a matter of opinion" he grunts, your breath hitching when he lines himself up and finally, finally pushes the blunt tip of his cock inside you.

Your lips part on a gasp, the feeling of his thick head stretching you open, the slight burn of the intrusion, a mixture of aching and pure pleasure. And you can feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin, drinking in every little reaction, every flutter of your lashes, every twitch of your brow.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice tight and strained. He looks just as wrecked as you feel, his jaw tight, a sheen of sweat already on his brow, the muscles in his forearms bulging with the effort of restraining himself.

"More," is all you manage to rasp out, pushing your hips up, trying to get him to sink deeper.

Joel grunts, and then obliges, his eyes screwed shut in concentration as he tries to feed you only a little more of his considerable length. You can see him chewing on his lip, his nostrils flaring, a slight tremble in his thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Jesus fuck, you're tight" he grits out, his chest heaving as he tries to regain some of his composure. "I-I didn't…fuck, I didn't think- shit. God fuckin' damn, baby"

You smile a little, the corners of your lips curling upwards. It's the first time you've ever seen him truly at a loss for words, and it's a very welcome change.

You reach up and card your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed, a sweet sigh escaping his lips at the feeling.

"I can take more," you say softly.

Joel shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "Not yet."

But you don't listen. Not that you ever really listen to him.

Your impatience gets the best of you and you push yourself further down the bed, forcing another inch of his cock inside you, your walls fluttering wildly around him as you let out a low moan.

"Ah fuck, honey," he groans, his eyes flying open.

"C'mon, Joel. More. Please," you beg, grinding down on his cock, taking just a little bit more with each roll of your hips until his fingers dig into your hips so hard, you're sure they'll leave bruises.

"Baby stop fuckin' movin'" he hisses, his grip tightening even further. "Please."

You can hear the strain in his voice, and you can feel him trembling above you, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing and tensing.

"Why not?" you pout.

"Cause m'tryin' not to fuckin' come right now, alright?" he grunts, his teeth gritted. "So please, just stop. For a minute."

"You can't possibly be serious," you breathe, a smile creeping on your face again. "You're not even all the way in yet."

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing. "Not my fault you're fuckin' tight as shit. It's like your cunt is tryin' to strangle me."

You giggle a little, the sound coming out breathy and light. You don't miss the way Joel's cock twitches at the sound.

"You're being so dramatic," you sigh, rolling your hips again.

"Fuck, honey, please," he begs, his eyes pleading, and the sight is almost enough to make you stop teasing him.

Almost.

You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your face as you bring your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across the stubble on his chin. He lets his eyes fall closed again, leaning into your touch.

"This isn't very 'best lay your life' behavior."

"I will fuckin' strangle you," he mutters, his eyes still closed, a smile playing on his lips.

"Is that part of the Joel Miller Experience too? Because I don't remember seeing it in the brochure. Was it next to the premature ejaculation section? Or maybe the-"

The air is knocked right out of your lungs, cut off mid-sentence when Joel pushes forward. He keeps it slow but unrelenting, sinking into you in one smooth, fluid motion. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, eyes screwing shut as your fists twist in the blanket underneath you.

It's more than overwhelming, it's absolutely mind melting the way he buries himself completely, stretching your walls, forcing them to make room for him, to mold perfectly around his length. You gasp for air between harsh pants and weak cries, the sensation of him filling you up, so much bigger than you expected, so much thicker than his fingers. You squirm underneath him, trying to get used to the feeling of his tip pressed against your cervix, the pressure building deliciously as the ache radiates from your core through your belly, to the tips of your toes.

"That what you wanted, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained and gruff, one hand still gripping your hip as he presses the other into the mattress by your head, holding himself up. "Is that enough for you?"

You struggle to find words, but you're not even sure if there are any in the English language that can convey just how good it feels.

"Uh-huh," you nod, blinking rapidly as the edges of your vision start to blur. "Fuck, Joel. You're so fucking big, oh my god."

You hear him chuckle, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

"Not too much though, is it? Cause you were begging for more just a second ago. Thought you could take it, sweetheart," he croons, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

"No, no, 'sgood, " you whimper, the words slurring together as he starts to grind into you. "F-fuck. Joel. Shit, that feels so good. Holy fuck.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your cheek and your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, his breath hot against you. He lets you get used to the feeling, cursing under his breath and trying to think of anything else but the tight, wet heat convulsing around his cock.

"Doesn't hurt?" he asks with a sudden tenderness, his voice vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"No," you sigh, finally starting to relax around him.

"Good. You gonna let me know if it does, right baby? Or if you need me to stop?"

You nod weakly. "Mhm."

He kisses you then, a soft, languid, and lazy drag of his lips against yours. He slides his tongue along your lower lip, and you let him in without any hesitation, parting your lips with a breathy sigh. He takes the opportunity to swallow down every little sound that spills from your mouth, kissing you with a kind of reverence, a kind of tenderness, a kind of patience and passion that makes your heart feel like it might beat right out of your chest.

He pulls away leaving you even more breathless and dizzy, your lips tingling and swollen. And you're not sure if it's because of the kiss or the way he's stretching you so fucking wide, but your fucking drunk on it.

He kisses you once more, on the corner of your mouth, his lips curling up into a smile when you nuzzle against his cheek, seeking out more.

"You still with me, honey?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here," you answer, your voice sounding far away, distant and dreamy. Joel chuckles, the sound making you smile.

"You wanna keep going, sweetheart? Or d'ya need a minute?"

"I'm good, I'm good," you assure him, trying to lift your hips a little. "You can...keep going."

"Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

You nod and then close your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as Joel pulls out, just a little, his cock dragging along your walls. It's another wave of overwhelming sensation, your entire body shaking. But it's nothing compared to the feeling when he pushes back in. The same full, aching, almost painful stretch, except it's somehow even better this time, your walls gripping him tighter, pulling him in, trying to keep him there.

"Fuck, oh my god, oh my god," you cry, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him. "Oh, Joel, fuck."

He's hovering over you, his brows furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms, chest and stomach flexing and contracting as he moves above you.

"Good?" he asks, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, his eyes hooded.

You answer with a nod, followed by a long, low moan when he starts to slowly pull out again, pushing back in a bit faster this time. He builds a rhythm, the slick drag of his cock filling you up again and again, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster.

"You're taking it so good," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with a particularly hard thrust, the force of which has you keening and crying out his name. Your walls clench around him, a gush of slick pouring out around his cock as you subconsciously try to pull him in even further.

"God you're so fucking tight, baby. Fuckin' soaked too, dripping all over me. Fuck. So fucking wet and perfect," he groans, his voice sounding strained, almost like he's in pain. "Such a good fucking girl."

You can't do anything more than just lay there and let him fuck into you, the sounds that spill from your lips a mix of moans, whimpers and desperate little cries. Your brain feels like mush, all thought processes reduced to a single loop of his name, your lips chanting it over and over.

And Joel's not much better, the only coherent words out of his mouth a string of praises, calling you his good girl, telling you how well you're taking him, how fucking tight you are, how heavenly you feel. His hands are everywhere too, caressing, stroking, kneading, squeezing, leaving no inch of your skin untouched.

He finds a steady rhythm and you know it's not nearly as hard as he could go, not by a long shot, but every thrust and drag of his cock hits you so deep and so hard, it's a miracle that you don't shatter beneath him. And the sounds, god the sounds are so obscene, the slapping of skin against skin, the wet, squelching noises of him pounding into your dripping cunt. It's a chorus of pure debauchery, music to both of your ears, only adding to the building pleasure.

And just when you start to think that it can't possibly get any better, he hits a spot deep inside you that has your body bowing, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. You clamp down around him and he curses, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering for just a moment.

"There it is," he grunts, and you can hear the smug smirk in his voice, the absolute bastard. "Right there, huh? That the spot?"

He doesn't wait for you to answer, pulling almost all the way out, and then driving back into you, hitting the same spot dead-on. And you keen and wail, your body thrashing wildly as a new wave of ecstasy washes over you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, clawing at his back, digging your fingers into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I got ya," he husks, leaning down to suck and bite at the skin just below your jaw. He keeps pounding into that spot, making sure to hit it every damn time, and your vision starts to blur again, black dots dancing at the edge of your eyes.

You don't even realize you're about to come until it's crashing into you, a sudden and violent wave that threatens to tear you apart. And Joel can tell, from the way you start to shake, the way your walls are clamping down around him, the way your legs lock around his waist, and the way you're desperately gasping for air, that you're right there.

"There you go, sweetheart," he coos. "You're so fucking close aren't ya? I can feel it. You gonna come on my cock? Huh?Gonna let me feel that tight little pussy coming all over me?"

"Oh god, Joel," you sob, tears welling in your eyes, his words alone pushing you even closer.

"I know, honey. I know. Just let go, baby. C'mon, that's it. You can do it."

And then he's snaking a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, tight circles against the swollen bud, and the pleasure reaches its peak, the coil in your belly snapping, sending you careening off the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as the most intense, powerful orgasm of your life tears right through you. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts, the rush of blood roaring in your ears as white-hot bliss erupts throughout every fiber of your being, your walls pulsing wildly, gushing slick around his cock.

He's there with you every step of the way, murmuring praise in your ear, fucking into you and grinding his cock against your cervix, prolonging your orgasm, extending it for what feels like an eternity. And then you're boneless, spent, and helplessly limp, barely aware of the way he's still rutting against you.

"So good, baby," he rasps, his voice sounding wrecked and broken. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

And then you feel him start to swell and his thrusts become erratic and you know he's right there with you, teetering on the edge, ready to fall. A few more pumps of his hips, his pace frantic and uncoordinated before he pushes himself back up on his knees and pulls out of you with a hiss. He jerks himself for half a second before spilling all over your belly and your cunt, hot, thick ropes of cum splashing against your skin. He grunts and hisses through clenched teeth, a few last drops spilling out onto your pussy, his cock throbbing against you.

You feel completely and utterly destroyed, every part of your body buzzing and tingling, still trembling. And your head feels stuffy and foggy, a hazy, peaceful kind of bliss settling deep in your bones.

Joel slumps down next to you, breathing heavy, a low, rumbling groan escaping his lips. You glance over at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He's a sweaty, disheveled mess, and the sight makes your heart ache and swell, a rush of warmth flooding through your body.

He notices you looking at him and turns his head to meet your gaze, his own satisfied smile matching yours. You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of your throat and spilling past your lips in a breathy giggle. Joel's smile spreads even wider, his eyes sparkling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and rolling onto his side.

"Nothing, I just," you giggle again, and it's almost a hysterical kind of laugh, a nervous kind of relief flooding through your body. "That was…"

Joel chuckles, brushing a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers trailing across your forehead.

"Yeah, it was," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"And I…I just really like you, Joel. A lot. I don't know. I guess I'm just happy."

His face softens and he stares at you for a moment, his expression so fond and tender that you forget how to breathe for a moment. He leans down and kisses you, his lips gentle and warm before he pulls away.

"I guess I like you too," he murmurs, his signature smirk playing on his lips. "I dunno about a lot, but-"

"Shut up, you ass" you giggle, slapping his shoulder. "I'm trying to have a moment."

He hums delightedly and presses another kiss to your forehead."M'kay, you have your moment. I'm gonna clean you up, alright?"

You pout but let him go, letting the afterglow of your climax envelop you until he returns a moment later with a warm wet cloth. His touch is tender, gently cleaning between your legs and then wiping the cum from your belly. You're still shaking, every touch sending little aftershocks through your body.

"So," he starts, tossing the cloth into the corner of the room before looking at you expectantly. "Best lay of your life?"

You laugh, your heart bursting at the seams, your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard.

"Not even close."

Thank you for reading!! I apologize in advance for any errors I do not enjoy editing!!

tagging those who asked and who might be interested:

@shewantstoknow @pedritoferg @khindahra @wand-erer5 @akah565 @thereaperisabitch @first-edition @lilyevanstan1325 @lovelyjess69 @elliesswearjar @iloveenya @harriedandharassed @c2ss1e @paleidiot @starry-eyes-love @lola8888673 @saguchiya @milla-frenchy @cayleejz @missyorkswhore @farrowroyale @abbyandersonsragdoll @glimmering-darling-dolly @katiexpunk @worhols @thecasualnope @ahintofkiwistrawberry @lulawantmula @sawymredfox @prismaticpizza @serenadingtigers @venturawriter @kyloispunk @millercontracting @jjhayhay20 @bitchesuntitled @bean-is-reading @lvl-2005 @kamcrazy123 @covetyou @survivingandenduring @pinkiec6-rubi @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @pedroshotwifey @perfectlyfreeanalyst @plsdontmisfire @lokigonnakmsforbucky @kr-ickl3

I will not tag ageless/faceless (no pfp) blogs. If you asked to be tagged and weren't you either did not have an age/pfp or Tumblr wouldn't let me :(

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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here-there-were-dragons · 1 year

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the second of the owl house’s 3 series finale specials was leaked a month early and the entire tag for the last several days if filled completely with people sending death threats to eachother and declaring eachother horrible immoral irredeemable pieces of shit for watching it for any reason

#the concept of major media leaks is not something i think of enough or understand well enough to have any real opinion on the morality of #i instinctively don't trust anyone's takes on things that everyone seems to be angry and trying to browbeat you onto their side about #but i'm pretty confident in saying it's probably not a crime worth death threats and declarations of morally irredeemable bad person-ness #especially death threats towards people that just looked at a leak rather than having anything to do with leaking it #like maybe i'm just a worthless crazy delusional unperson as per usual in everyones eyes but ruining a tv show's intended upload schedule #on it's last 3 episodes #as well as whatever else this entails #which i am unclear on beyond a wall of scolding about how you're a horrible bad person if you see it?#whatever your opinion on it's morality may be #still probably doesnt warrant death threats #nothing warrants death threats and especially not tv shows even if this is a severe case of incident #i don't know! maybe it is a huge dick move! but people act like it reversed human rights protections and murdered their firstborn child #and i just don't think shit happening with a tv show can be worth quite the level and type of pvp zine bloodbath moral fury #without some EXTREMELY unusual extenuating circumstances #like this is the kind of angry you'd normally expect people to pull out when congress reverses decades of human rights protections again #i am too numb and not processing most of the time to have an opinion on the morality and severity of the leak itself beyond that #just 'sigh. don't suicide bait people'#depression-induced showerthoughts

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colleendoran · 3 months

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Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

Go me!

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt.

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back.

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news.

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work.

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing.

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work.

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way.

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry.

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings, enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks.

#good omens graphic novel #good omens #terry pratchett #neil gaiman #dunmanifestin

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feyascorner · 3 months

Note

Hear me out! Hear me out!

From Astrion's pov

A Tav who hates physical contact.

But then one night when it's pouring rain Tav comes to Astarion's tent feeling scared and ask if they can stay and then one thing leads to another and suddenly the two of them are cuddled together and Astarion is like "I thought you didn't like being touched" and Tav is like "Normally I'm scared people will hurt me when they touch me. But you are different. I feel safe with you. I trust you."

a/n. I’m going to collapse they’re everything to me AHHH THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PROMPT

Astarion, by nature and by the two-hundred years he’s spent as a vampire spawn, is a touchy person. It’s instinctual. A habit he can no longer break. It’s not even sexual, half the time. It’s simply how he conveys the words that he struggles to say, even if his vocabulary is filled to the brim with flowery verses of love straight from a romance novel.

But he understands the aversion for touch. Because he’s spent so much of his life hating the touch of strangers against his skin, he understands when you recoil when one of your companions attempt to hug you, or someone tries to shake your hand. Even if yours doesn’t stem from the similar situations where he had to set out on a victim under Cazador’s orders, he understands what it’s like to simply dislike it.

He doesn’t touch you, even if his hand itches to brush the stray strands of hair out of your face. Even as he has to yank his arm away when he feels it nearing yours as you walk alongside one another. Even as all he wants to do is drag you to the nearest corner and beg that you just hold his hand.

So when you appear at the flap of his tent, barely shielding yourself from the thunderous weather outside, asking if you can stay, his jaw physically unhinges.

He coughs, gathering himself quickly—or as quickly as he can manage.

“Come here, darling. You’ll freeze away with that mortal body of yours.”

He doesn’t even know how it happens. Well, he does, but he doesn’t really believe it’s happening. Only fifteen minutes later, you’re snuggled in under his blankets, pressed tightly against his side. He stares up at the ceiling on his back with wide eyes, slowly turning to look at you.

“Is this…alright?” He asks, and you peek out from one eye, adjusting your head on his arm. He can smell your shampoo from so close—lavender? No, maybe another blasted flower he doesn’t know the name of…

“What is?”

“This,” he waves his free arm between the two of you. “Don’t get me wrong, darling, you know I’m never against a cuddle, but I thought you—well—“

You stare at him expectantly.

“I thought you disliked physical contact,” he says, softer. “Not just with me, obviously. In general you seem rather opposed to the idea.”

The thunder rings from outside and your brows crease deeper. The light from a lightning strike illuminates your faces briefly before it’s a dim darkness again, with nothing but your own eyes able to adjust just enough to make out one another’s features. He’s sure he sees more than you do, considering his familiarity with the dark, and uses it to notice the way your lips purse at the intrusive sounds coming from outside.

He also notices you leaning closer to him, but hesitant. Your movements are unsure.

If he had a heart, it would’ve been pounding now, surely.

So he curls his arm closer, pushing you into his chest in the process. You tense briefly, but melt into the feeling, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Are you afraid?”

Your voice is but a whisper. “Not anymore.”

There’s a comfortable silence hanging in the air for what seems like hours, but he might consider them to be just a few minutes. The rain pounds relentlessly against the tent, but here, even through the thin fabric, he doesn’t even notice it anymore.

“You’re different from everyone else,” you mumble, and he looks down at his chest to see your eyes halfway shut, clearly about to doze off. “I know you won’t hurt me…there’s no reason for me to avoid touching you.”

He blinks, and you bury half your face into the fabric of his shirt.

“I want you to touch me.”

For the first time in decades, Astarion finds himself at a loss for words. He’s said worse things, sure, but coming from you?…

After filing through a dozen possible responses, he settled on one, opening his mouth to respond, but your breath is already heavier. You’ve already left to a dream world he cannot follow you into, and you’ve left him in a state that he would’ve considered humiliating with anyone else.

He stares at the ceiling again, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing.

“You can’t just say that and then fall asleep you fool…”

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff

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eubybubble · 4 months

Text

slytherin boys after an argument

ft. Tom, Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo

Theodore Nott

Realization hit him hard after a prolonged silence. The air felt thick, and he felt nauseous as he shifted his gaze from a small crack on the wall under his fist to your face. He just swallowed and left the room without a word.

He was terrified of himself, didn't he promise to never raise a hand on loved ones? Technically, he hadn’t, but it was too close. Thoughts flooded his mind as he rushed up the stairs in a desperate attempt to breathe fresh air. It wasn't surprising that he instinctively headed to the Astronomy Tower – your favorite place. Reaching the top, he stood there and retrieved the cigarette pack with trembling fingers. After hesitating, he lit one. Everything seemed to remind him of you. It was never that serious, you just wanted to help him.

Now, he felt like a total fool. Leaning against a wall and sliding down, he pondered over the the relationships. You were too sweet, he couldn't let you suffer near someone like him. With that, he set his mind on ignoring you and breaking up with you because "that'd be better for you." It seemed like you would only agree, he didn't consider any other possible answer.

In the next few days, he deliberately skipped meals and tried to ignore your questioning gaze in halls. However, you heard a slight cough from behind after the lunch.

"May we discuss something?"

"Well, if it isn't Theodore Nott! What—" he didn't let you finish.

"Let's break up." you froze, staring at him in disbelief.

"Nott, are you insane? Didn't you think to ask me?"

"I'm doing it right now."

"Really? It felt more like you just stated a fact and I can only accept it. It was really low of you to avoid me." Your eyes became shiny as tears started to accumulate involuntarily. Theodore noticed it, and despite the cold agenda he planned, he rushed towards you, wiping the tears.

"You wouldn't want to be with me," he mumbled.

"What? We could've talked! We've always talked about how important communication is, but how come we don't practice it? I know you, and I know myself; I wouldn't give up on our relationship that easily. And more than anything, I know that I want to be with you. Why would you do that to me?" you sobbed, clutching onto him as if you were afraid that if he left now, you would never see him again.

"Shush, principessa, I'm so sorry-" he didn't expect such a reaction from you. As you hid your crying face in his chest, his heartbeat only became faster. What an idiot he was for even thinking of such a thing. "I'm so sorry. For everything I've done and said. I'll work to be better for you," he rambled quietly. "Do you trust me? Are you ready to give me another try?" His voice cracked slightly as he asked the last question. You just nodded, and he chuckled at the sight. "Tesoro... I'm so sorry. I promise you it won't happen again." He gave you a forehead kiss, and he really meant it. Even though he didn't say anything about it, he decided to quit smoking. Yes, it won't be easy or a short process, but at least he found a far better addiction - you.

Tom Riddle

From the moment you saw Tom, you thought it could have worked out. At least, you hoped so. It all felt dumb. All those times when your friends told you to break up or said that he didn’t care about you - you refused to believe them. And now, it got you here when the most precious person told you were some troublesome trivia. In the past, you and Tom would at least talk during lunch or sit next to each other in Potions where he patiently helped you, but now, he skipped most lessons, and if he attended one, he’d sit alone. Everyone noticed it, and you became the target of their whispers and snickers. Some even went as far as mocking you in the halls.

“Well, if it isn’t the one Tom Riddle dumped. What, did he finally realize that you’re pathetic?” you tightened your hold on your books and tried to leave hurriedly until the blonde boy from the group shoved you into the wall. “Aren’t we talking to you? Why are you leaving so suddenly?”

It was a pretty loud encounter, so Tom, who was walking nearby, heard it and stopped in his tracks. To tell the truth, he didn’t even want to break up. He invented this silly excuse to protect you because he was afraid of his own actions. He hoped you’d be stubborn and come once again, but you didn’t. That’s when he knew he messed up, but his pride held him back from going to you. And now, someone was bullying his treasure.

But they underestimated your power. You didn’t want it to escalate into violence, but they started it first. With a swift movement of the wand, you threw them off with a big blast. Not even bothering to look behind, you paced up and bumped into someone.

“Oh.” As he put his hands on your shoulders to steady you, he eyed the unconscious group behind. “Using a spell of such power at this hour?” he mumbled nervously.

“Care to explain why you care? Get off, Riddle.” You tried to shove him away, but his grip was strong.

“What’s going on with you? I didn’t even do anything to make you that mad.” You nearly choked at these words.

“Tom.” He hesitated. “Do you think I’m that dumb to fall for your words? Move out of the way.” But he just stood there without a change.

"Don’t leave. I was just... I was afraid I’d hurt you," he whispered as he clutched onto you. "I was afraid of my own plans, of my own thoughts. But please, promise me never to leave, even if I change. I won’t hurt you, just stay by my side. I never expected to fall in love..I had everything planned ahead in a neat way, but you came in like a surprise. Yet, here we are, and it's you. There's no turning back now" You never saw Tom being so vulnerable, and you could do only nod. You cupped his face.

"Hey, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll be here," you softly reassured him, not noticing how easily he drew you right back.

Mattheo Riddle

You had hard time absorbing everything Mattheo said. It was already dark outside, but you didn’t care to turn on the light or illuminate the wand with “Lumos”. You sat on the bed and went through the box with a glossy eyes. You couldn’t believe that he saved every gift, every letter, note - even those that you gave him before dating. Quiet sobs escaped your chest upon finding the promise ring at the very top. Why does it feel so awful when you believed you made the right choice?

As if on cue, your roommate entered the dorm room. "Hey, look what everyone’s talking about in school- oh, are you okay?" She turned on the lights and noticed your teary face. Quickly wiping everything away, you pretended to be busy, gathering everything back into the box. "Yeah, my eyes are sore from reading in the dark," a lame excuse, "what were you gonna tell?"

She knew you disliked having your privacy intruded upon. "So, three students were caught for an outrageous duel and a series of mobbings in Hogsmeade! Surprisingly, it was two Gryffindor students and one Hufflepuff. That fits into the ‘don't judge a book by its cover' narrative. I wonder when the stereotypes about the houses will end. Remember when everyone didn't doubt that it was Slytherin?" she sighed.

As if it weren't enough of a heartbreak, you discovered that everything you had ever suspected Mattheo of was all filthy lies and gossip. Suddenly, you felt dizzy.

You didn’t care about decency or dignity as you rushed to Mattheo’s dorm. He, too, was struggling. Despite everything, he regretted speaking harshly and leaving the memory box. What if you never returned and tossed it away? His heart clenched at the thought.

Feeling too irritated and unwilling to join others in the common room for a card game, he was all alone for now. In futile attempts to fall asleep, he heard a light knock on the door.

"Who’s that?" he groaned, too lazy to open the door.

"Hey, can we talk?" His muscles tensed upon hearing that familiar voice. Rushing to the door, he unlocked it immediately. "Oh, hi," you blushed and stopped mid-sentence, staring at his torso. He glanced down, realizing he forgot to put his shirt on.

"Shit. Sorry, one second," he shut the door in embarrassment and put on a random sweater. "What do you want?" he still held a grudge against you.

"I wanna... apologize. You have every right to shut the door, but I wanted to tell you that our relationship isn’t a joke to me. I love everything about you. I was just so stupid to believe all the gossips floating around Hogwarts, but that doesn’t matter. I came here to tell you how insane you make me feel. I mean, these days when I tried to collect my thoughts and was avoiding you, I was thinking of you non-stop. Mattheo, I’d fight the world to be by your side." As you rambled on and on, his gaze softened, and he pulled you by the waist.

"That’s my girl. I felt terrible when you acted the way you acted, but I hope it won’t be the same in the future?... I also apologize for saying unnecessary things."

"That’s okay, you had every right to be mad. What about I’ll order the food and we’ll watch a movie?"

“Gladly” he was grinning now. It wasn't necessary to tell him that you were also ordering a new broomstick, the perfect one for the perfect boy to make it up. It was the least you could do now. As you scrolled through the list of new films, Mattheo coughed.

"So, uh, can I get my box back, please? You didn’t go through it, right?" a light blush covered his face.

“Actually, I did, Matty. I didn’t know you are so sweet” he groaned at this comment “but I’ll return it to you. Sure.”

Lorenzo Berkshire

The moment Lorenzo received his numerology exam back, he couldn't believe the mark he saw. 70, satisfactory. Many would pray for such a grade, but he had studied and sacrificed too much for this.

As he walked to breakfast, he scanned the Great Hall but couldn't spot you. The previous day's argument flared up in his memory, and he wrinkled his nose as he sat down to eat. As predicted, a white owl sat on his shoulder, delivering a letter with Berkshire's family logo.

He run his eyes over the text. “disgrace..wasting time..bad influence” and blah blah blah. Nothing’s new, except the threat that ordered him not to come home until he got back on the track academically. He's been following his parents' wishes for too long; he was too afraid to ruin the perfect son image that he completely lost hold of his priorities.

Oh, how he wished to be in your embrace now, to listen to your soothing voice and nuzzle up to you in the dark. But he ruined it single-handedly.

He stood up and went to lessons, scratching an apology note for you in the meantime. At DADA, the only class you two took together, he tried to sit next to you and apologize, but that place was taken by a Hufflepuff girl, to which he could only frown. Throughout the lesson, you felt his gaze on you, but never once did you turn your head back at him. If he needed a break that much, he could get one. After all, you got tired of constantly begging him to relax and spend time with you and felt like a total fool.

After the lessons ended, you were the first one to leave the classroom, but he's not an idiot either. You felt someone gently taking hold of your wrists and pushing you into the empty classroom. The door closed behind.

"Can we talk and communicate like grown-ups?" Lorenzo inquired.

"You said everything you wanted last time. I have to go, Hermione's waiting for me in the library," you blatantly lied.

"Oh, really? Because when I last talked to Hermione, she told me she would be with Ron," he calmly stated, stepping closer. "I don't really remember things I've said, but-" You didn't let him finish.

“Enzo, you needed break and I’m giving it to you” his jaws tightened in frustration at your unwavering stance. “You told me I was a burden and you know what? I think you were right because lately, that’s what I felt like in relationships with you. It’s like I’m begging you to spend time with me. Maybe it's best to return to being friends” you mumbled. But he just shook his head, moving nearer once more until he stood right in front of you.

"I'm sorry I made you feel this way. It's not an excuse for my behavior, but I've been stressing about..something," he sighed. "You don't deserve to be treated like that, but trust me, I'll be better." He gently reached out for your arm. "I need just another chance. The only one. I've already written back to my parents, and I hope they will get off my back. I've also told them about us," his voice got quieter. "I hope you won't mind." Your breath hitched. He had always been postponing this, even if you wished for it. There was a minute of silence and apprehension before he wrapped you in a hug. "I hope you can forgive me, sweetheart. How about we go to the cafe you like this weekend?" he mumbled, peppering your face with kisses.

a/n: I apologize if it's not the way you imagined, but hey, I tried my best. Also, I think they were super careful and sweet afterwards!

taglist: @lilanxietysstuff @nopedefe @marina468

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zorciarkrildrush · 6 months

Text

I think the essence of what drives me crazy about current Enlightened Online Leftist Discourse Regarding My Life Personally And Whether This Time Killing Me Is Morally Correct (as in, commentary about the latest episode in i/p violence) is this:

I want a free Palestine.

I don't personally know a lot of people that don't! They might bristle at the tagline, because it's co-opted by people who do in fact want them dead, but as soon as I lay out why it's in literally everyone's best interest, how a non-free Palestine is horrific both to the people of Israel and to the people of Palestine, how pragmatically ridiculous the occupation of the west bank and the siege upon Gaza are (and I am a very pragmatic person), they get it. And I don't mean I debate people online about it - this, too, is a ridiculous concept - I mean having, time and time again, the deradicalization conversation with my friends, and colleagues, and my family. Obviously not only now - I've always been a very principled and argumentative Jew, ever since I became an adult - and I've been alive for, I don't know, a dozen flashpoints and operations and wars at this point, and I don't stop being argumentative and loud in peacetime either, but especially now.

But that's not what "from the river to the sea" means.

When you, gentle soul from across the sea, echo this slogan, you are either:

By apathy or will, ignoring that the sentiment cheers for the mass expulsion and killing of Jews. Indeed, any non-Muslim present from the river to the sea. This doesn't even begin to cover how even Muslim arabs still will not be safe under Hamas rule - and trust me, I don't care if a Hamas apologist told you different. A victory for Hamas (And we're ignoring the fact they do not have the military capacity for it - I hope you are aware of the privilege inherent to not understanding military conflicts) means exactly that. No "rule by the people". No socialistic, Palestinian utopia to be had, which is a fantasy I'm seeing alluded to a lot recently. Just an extension of the horrific power structure in Lebanon and Syria, where Hezbollah - friends and allies to Hamas - have been playing a tango for decades of both refusing to participate in actual government and betterment of civilian lives, while still draining their resources and controlling them with no real contest. "From the river to the sea" is not a sentiment for freedom fighting - it's a sentiment for a final solution to the people living here who are either Jewish, or for some Very Strange And Weird Reason would rather not submit to Hamas rule. You know - Israeli Arabs, secular and Muslim and Christian, Druze, Circassians, Bahai, take your pick. Their suffering, and my suffering - you know, a person who made the strategic error of being born in Israel while Jewish, which is inherently problematic and not okay of me - don't matter to you. Just the fantasy of an easy, morally correct cleanse of the land.

Are well aware of all of the above! You just don't care. You either smugly chuckle that I, and anybody else who will die, deserve it - or that it's an acceptable loss for the aforementioned fantasy. "Decolonization is an inherently violent process", you'll say to me, chillingly, before implying I have a summer home in Brooklyn I can just retreat to when things get tough. Israel is basically Rhodesia, a very popular blog here mentioned flippantly, so what's the issue with all of those lily-white Jews fucking off back home before the righteous freedom fighters strike them down? Well. This might be the part I urge you to open a book, or even Wikipedia or any god damn thing that will explain to you these upsetting, dense things you clearly struggle with.

So finally:

It's easy for me to discount islamophobes. Like, very easy. It's very easy for me to discount insane evangelistics who "advocate for me" simply because I'm a pawn in their religious rapture. It's easy for me to fight against Israeli and Jewish fascists - I have been long before this news item came across your feed, as did the insinuations that some civilian deaths are okay, actually.

It's easy for me for me to see promotions for donations to non-political aid in Gaza. It's easy for me to see the sentiment that hey! Palestinians deserve safe, healthy lives. That they have deserved an independent state, and were unfairly denied one, for decades. It's easy for me to see people saying "You know, the Israeli government is shit, actually, and their actions endanger and promote to the misery of innocents". Because that's right! I wouldn't be voting and protesting and donating for all of these sentiments otherwise!

It's not easy for me to see people, who I honestly held in high regard and saw having well thought out opinions on important matters, inadvertently echo the sentiment that my death is acceptable. That a terrorist organization, who rule over their own territory with fear and violence, are righteous freedom fighters, vox populi, only out to establish a free state. Like hey, their manifesto said otherwise, so it must be all there is - right? That Jews are just hysterical, they can easily live elsewhere - ever since that nasty holocaust business everything's fine abroad. Besides, it was just so long ago who even cares stop talking about it. Hamas, Hezbollah, ISIS, the Ayatollahs in Iran, the fucking Islamic Jihad - are not interested in freedom. They aren't, and echoing their slogan tells me you are either ignoring that, or support them anyway. If antisemitic rhetoric, half truths and lies by omission work on you today, they would have in any period of time. I'm sorry this makes you uncomfortable. I'm not, not really.

Know what your fucking words mean. Have a cursory glance at the history of the MENA and why it's so fucked, one that doesn't boil down to "The Jews, with American help, rolled into where they don't belong". This isn't even a joke. I've seen this braindead, history-revising sentiment repeated so many times, both online and in actual textbooks, that I feel I'm going insane. So many well-meaning people handwringing and assuring each other that repeating genocidal slogans is fine, that calling the i/p conflict "a simple problem" (which means it has a simple solution, right? Just kill the Jews.) is a well-adjusted and intellectual take. That "only the Zionists should die! The rest will be fine :)" I dare you to say that and also give me a correct definition of what Zionism is. Why I, a Jew that advocates for Palestinian statehood and rights and safety and always have, won't also face the wall in your little fantasy.

Freedom to Palestine. Peace in the middle east, fucking yesterday.

A curse and a plague on those who don't want either of those, and just want to cheer on the death of "the other side".

A curse and a plague upon you, when you tell me, smugly, from somewhere safe and far away, "from the river to the sea".

#selfpost #long post #i/p #israel #palestine #antisemitism #antizionism #I pondered linking every word of every claim I make to sources like Reuters and Wikipedia and what have you #but honestly? Please just read them #don't get your news off fucking Twitter #my respect for “critical thinking” online leftists is already at an all time low

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moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

HI, how are you?:))) so, I don't know if you are receiving orders :/ sorry if that's the case and I'm bothering you!

mas eu gostaria de pedir um leitor James Potter×Hufflepuff!, por favor ♡

where she is seductive but in a discreet way? She pretends to be stupid and innocent but in reality she is a pit of hell

I'm sorry if it's vague or there's something wrong, I'm from Brazil and I don't trust myself and I used google translate :)))

Hi, I'm good! You've got nothing to apologize for my love, thank you for requesting <3

cw: pre-smut? idk there's a mention of a hard dick

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 463 words

“Hiya, sweetheart!” James calls happily as you flounce up to the marauders in the library.

“Hey, Jamie.” You bypass the chair he pulls out for you, going straight to his lap. “How’d your potions exam go?”

“Good, I think.” His hands land automatically on your hips, and he inhales softly as he presses a kiss to your cheek, smelling the perfume you’d put on before coming to meet him.

“Yeah?” You coat your voice in honey. “Did our studying last night help?”

James stiffens behind you. You make your eyes big and innocent in the way you know how, and Sirius and Remus are none the wiser, both bent over their charms books in preparation for the exam tomorrow.

“Yeah, angel,” he says, voice soft but amused. “Our study sessions always make me feel good.”

You bite your lip. “I’ll bet,” you reply lightly, shifting on his lap in a suggestion of how good your “studying” had made him feel the night before.

“About exams.” James’ voice gets a bit choked. His grip tightens on your hips, trying to still you. “They make me feel good about my exams.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” you say, all sweetness as you turn your head to peck him on the lips. You give his top lip the lightest nibble, and he jumps.

His chair squeaks against the floor, making Sirius look up. “Alright, Prongs?”

“Yeah,” James coughs.

You lay your head back against his shoulder, looking up at your boyfriend and giving him a view down your shirt in the process. “Are you sure, Jamie? You feeling okay?”

“I’m okay,” he insists, growing hard beneath you. He gives the fat of your hip a warning squeeze, well aware by now of the mood you’re in.

You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling, but you pass the action off as concerned. “Maybe you’re just tired from your exams,” you suggest. “You’ve been working really hard. Need to take a break?”

James’ laugh sounds almost dizzy. “You know what, I think I am a little tired. Come with me back to my room, angel?”

You hop up gaily, and Remus rolls his eyes as he flips the page in his charms book. “You could at least try to be subtle,” he says to James.

James’ tawny skin reddens, but you widen your eyes in a well-practiced look of naive blamelessness. “What do you mean?”

Remus’ gaze flits to you, softening. “Nothing, love.”

“Begone, you rake.” Sirius waves him away. You take James’ hand, helping him comply as he holds his book low to hide his stiffness. “Some of us are trying to study, and your girlfriend didn’t come to the library to be demoralized.”

“Neither did I,” James mutters as you lead him off.

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lymtw · 10 days

Text

"Hey, it's, uh, Toji from... Fuck, why am I telling you this? You already know. Well, you said I could hit you up if I ever needed a gym buddy... So, how 'bout it? Maybe in an hour or so? Alright, let me know."

You laugh as you listen to the voicemail for the third time in a row. He sounds dumber and dumber, but in the most adorable way, every time you play it again. You're tempted to get back to him, but it's been two hours since he left that voicemail. You weren't able to answer when he called because you had just gotten home from work and you left your phone on the couch while you went to change into comfy clothes. Maybe he'll answer if you shoot him a text message.

Hey, sorry I didn't get back to you earlier

Just got home from work

He didn't answer fast at all. You figured maybe the window of opportunity had closed and he went to sleep or something. So, you went to your kitchen cabinet and grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass. You put some popcorn in the microwave and transfered it into a bowl once it was ready. You set everything down on your coffee table, and picked up the TV remote, but before you could turn the TV on, you heard a buzz.

Don't sweat it, unless you're doing it at the gym with me ;)

I'm still down if you are. Want me to pick you up?

You giggle at the corny first message.

I could go for an hour or so.

Are you sure you're fine picking me up?

Just send the address. I'll be there soon.

—

Toji shows up at your place fifteen minutes later, honking twice to let you know he's there. You open the blinds to peek through the window, and he greets you with a raise of his hand above the steering wheel. Why you felt your heartbeat pick up after that, you're not sure.

You grabbed your things, turning off all the lights except for the porch light. You've stumbled on the stairs once, stumbled even twice, but you will not stumble a third time, so the light stays on.

Toji unlocks the car, looking around to make sure there's nothing in the way for when you get in.

"Hey," you smile, inspecting the passenger seat to make sure you don't sit on any of his stuff. "Thanks for picking me up." You enter the car, everything sinking in when the door shuts.

You look at the man beside you, taking in his appearance. He looks the same as last time, but for some reason you don't recall him being so handsome. Perhaps, it was your adrenaline getting in the way when you first met him, and the fact that he was pushing the hell out of you when your arms started shaking at the pullup bar.

"Don't worry about it. I know it's a little scarier to travel alone at night, so what kind of man would I be if I let you leave your house alone at this time?"

You laugh, putting on your seatbelt while he backs the car out of the parking spot. You kept yourself in check by declaring that he was only objectively attractive for now. You don't know him well enough to say he's a good man, or that you trust him entirely, but he's gaining some of your trust, given this is only the second time you've seen him, and he already knows where you live.

Throughout the drive to the gym, you and Toji talked about yourselves. How long you both lived in the area, hobbies, whether you were in school or working, or both. It was a conversation that scratched the surface off, allowing you both to dig deeper and make room for friendship.

—

Toji told you stretching is always a must, especially if he's working out with someone else. He doesn't want them to get hurt once the workouts got more intense, and he won't be held responsible for any muscle damage. He's being especially pushy with you, though.

"We're not moving on until you stretch, so get on the stupid mat."

He watches you pace around, turning to avoid his intense gaze. You sigh, bored and ready to start the more rigorous stuff. "I never do this. I usually start out with a run and go from there." You plop down onto the mat, just sitting there.

His brows furrow, the information not processing in his head. For someone who claims to go to the gym enough, you don't take the correct precautions necessary to avoid damaging your body. "That's a perfect way to develop shin splints, dummy." In his mind, his eyes are rolling straight out of his head. "Alright, just follow my lead. Mirror me."

He had you doing leg stretches, lunges, calf stretches, quads, the whole nine yards. There were times when he stopped to watch you, to make sure you were doing it correctly. When you got to the supine stretches, his eyes went low on your body. You felt like you were being torn with all the stretching. This made you gain a new level of respect for Toji starting all his workouts this way.

Toji kept his eyes on you, unable to ignore the groans and hisses you let out. He didn't know what compelled him to stand so close over your head, but he ended up helping you out. With his hand locked around your ankle, he pulled your leg back just a little more.

"Huh?" You tilt your head up to look at Toji. You weren't sure if you had missed something he said and he went on to the next stretch, but his touch had you shaking.

"You should be feeling more pressure in your hamstring. You're not pulling your leg back enough."

You could feel your face getting warm. You were unsure if it was the pressure of the stretching or if it was the touch his warm hand on your ankle, but in all that confusion, you still managed to mock him under your breath. "You're not pulling your leg back enough..."

He chuckles, hearing a good amount of that impression. "I got you, don't worry." He releases your ankle, the cool air from the ceiling vent hitting it as it dropped to the floor. "Switch." His hand beckons for your other leg, and he does the same for that one. He grabs onto your ankle, and pulls your leg back slowly until you tap the floor. "See how far you can actually go? You're more flexible than you think."

Toji was really enjoying watching the way your leg quivered with its unaccustomed use of certain muscles. He looks down at your uncomfortable facial features. Your nose is slightly scrunched, your lips are tucked, and your brows are pinched. It's cute, but he can't help but picture it in a more vulgar scenario.

He pats your leg before releasing it. "Good girl. Have some water."

Your eyes widened at the praise, something you had to let go of quickly because Toji was ready to move on to the next thing. That didn't stop your stomach from flipping around as you took a quick water break.

"Arms? Legs? Back? What do you wanna work on tonight?" His voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Oh, um... your choice. I'm following your lead, aren't I?" You smile.

"Alright, then. You're gonna spot me." He picks up his water flask and walks ahead, assuming you'll follow. Your heart starts racing. He's joking, right? Right?

He puts his flask down, sitting on the bench in front of the huge shared mirror. "How much can you lift?" He asks, looking at your timid frame through the mirror.

"Um... well... I-"

"You don't, do you?" You see the hint of a smirk forming on his lips.

"Yeah, not really. I don't," you say, feeling a little embarrassed. You didn't know this was a good thing for him know. There was no challenge meaning he was going to take this opportunity to show off for you. Toji knew that any amount of weight he lifted that was over one hundred pounds would impress the hell out of you. This was Toji's equivalent of the bird mating dance. His muscles were the colorful feathers and him lifting a lot of weight was the attention grabbing dance.

"Wanna help me put the weights on?" He points at the rack with varying weight plates.

"Okay," you agree.

"How about ninety to start?" That is absolutely nothing to him, but he really wanted to you to believe that you would be spotting him.

"Sure," you confirm, following him to the weight rack after. You grabbed a forty-five pound plate with both hands while he grabbed another, holding it with just one hand. He laughed at the slight change in posture for your walk, from carrying the weight. You returned to the bench, putting the metal bar through the plate while Toji did the same on the other side.

He sat down on the bench, watching you through the mirror. "You ready?" He asks. "If I start struggling, you're gonna pull the bar up, yeah?" His serious expression really sells his little joke on you.

"Mhm," you mumble, with little certainty. Your hands shake as you near the head of the bench.

Toji lays down, looking straight up at your nervous expression with a sly grin. The sound of the bar coming off the ramps makes you jolt, something that Toji breathily chuckles at as he brings the bar down low then pushes back up. You lose focus by the fifth time he does this, narrowing your eyes on the veins bulging out on his biceps. He can see you staring, and it only fuels his motivation to do more reps. But then your eyes start wandering. You see the way his chest inflates and deflates as he continues to push, you notice the shape of his abs bulging through his shirt, and then you find yourself looking all the way down south. You start wondering if he could bench press you. Maybe at his place, with a lot less clothes on.

He whistles, green eyes absorbing the flustered reaction on your face. "Eyes up here. Could've been crushed over here and you wouldn't have even noticed, doll."

"Sorry... fuck, i'm so sorry."

He laughs at how awkward you got after getting caught. He finished up a couple more reps before securing the bar back in it's spot. He sits up, only able to see your back through the mirror.

"What's up with you?" He asks, standing up from the bench.

"I don't think i'm the best person to spot you. Maybe someone else could do it. I could ask this guy if you want. Hey-"

"No, no. Nope. It's all good." He pulls you away from the guy doing squats next to you guys. "I was just messing with you." His hand rests on your shoulder. "You really think i'm not capable of lifting ninety pounds without struggling?" You still can't look him in the eyes after what happened earlier without going red, but that's fine 'cause he can look at you. "Sweetheart, I can lift you up so easily. I'm talking featherlight easy."

"I knew you could lift ninety pounds alone. You just like to make me feel dumb." You glance at him and hold back a laugh.

"Guess you're too smart. Is that why you let yourself get distracted so easily?"

You groan, the embarrassment from before flooding you again.

"It's water under the bridge, but listen, I'm gonna stay and do a couple more sets. You can chill here and watch me, or you can go to some of the other equipment, or... you can be the sweetest girl and do squats right next to me. You know, to keep me motivated."

"Toji, you dog." You smack his arm, giggling to yourself. Toji finds it really amusing when he makes you blush. You turn away or cover your face every time, like it'll hide the reason for why you're acting that way. "I'll pass on being a sweet girl, just this once."

Toji smirks, crisp green eyes raking up and down your body.

"I'm going on a run. I've got too much energy to just stand here or, you know, squat for you."

"That's too bad. Was really hoping you'd be my prize for finishing my sets." He watches your tongue dart out to lick your lips, completely mesmerized by how the gesture transitions to you nibbling on your lip. "Go on, but you're showing me your pull up game when I come get you."

You playfully roll your eyes. "Yeah, yeah. See you in a bit."

—

You ran a mile and a half to rid yourself of those lust filled thoughts that formed in your mind when Toji was around. You thought the lack of breath would be enough to cloud your mind and discard all thoughts in general, but you still found yourself looking for him on the other side of the gym.

"Looking for someone?" Toji asks, scaring the life out of your already racing heart. You gasp, turning the treadmill off. It slows you down at a good pace, eventually stilling you.

"Almost two miles. That's really good." He grabs onto the sidebar, watching you lean forward onto the control panel in an attempt to regain your breath. "Heh, you look like a tomato," he jokes, poking your cheek. "Come on, clean yourself up and drink some water. We've got one more stop and then we can head out."

He offers you his towel, seeing that you didn't bring one with you. Your legs feel like they're buzzing, and you feel incredibly sluggish, but still you pick your head up and have some water.

Toji watches your throat movement as you swallow the water. He notices how fast it's going, and he wants to tell you to slow down, but instead becomes distracted when some of it seeps down your chin and lands on your shirt. You really are a pretty picture in that moment. Your neck is glowing with a layer of sweat, your baby hairs on the back of your neck curl and stick to your skin, and your cheeks are flushed with color.

"I'm tired," you sigh. You use the towel to dab at your forehead lightly, handing it back to Toji afterwards. "Ready," you huff. You cleaned up the treadmill and waited for Toji to lead again. He seemed to be buffering though. "Hey, aren't you the leader here? Come on. I wanna go home."

"Yeah, my bad. Let's see those pull ups."

—

Reaching the bar has always been your biggest issue. It's like the starting height for some of the equipment is six feet. You stand beneath the bar, your arms stretched upwards, and you jump, barely grazing the metal.

"Too short?" Toji asks, ready to assist you.

"No. I'm gonna get it." Your arms go up again, your knees bend and you put all your remaining strength into your jump, still missing the bar. "Fuck. Yeah, i'm too short."

"Need a hand?" He asks, stepping towards you.

"Let me borrow your thigh, please. I'll dust my footprints off aft-"

His hands are on your waist, lifting you off the ground with ease. You freeze in shock of his gesture. "Grab the bar when you're ready. No rush." He chuckles.

His fingers are poking into your sides, leaving a ticklish sensation behind that snaps you out of your thoughts and pushes you to grab the bar.

You huff, your hands tightening on the bar as you hang for a few seconds before pulling up, slowly.

"One," Toji starts counting, watching you dip down again. Your shoulder blades flex as you bring yourself up, then down again. "Mhm, there you go. Got another one in you?" Toji asks, watching you look up. You exhale, and with slightly shaky arms, you pull yourself up, letting yourself hang for a couple seconds after.

"My hands hurt. Two more and i'm tapping out."

"I'll give you some of the salve I use for my calluses. Now, go."

You grunt, knowing how much harder it is when you pause in between. Your arms are worn just from hanging, but then having to pull yourself up again? It's a task and a half.

"You got it. Up, up, up!" Toji drills. The fact that you were able to do two was impressive enough to him, but you were a trooper for pushing yourself to do more.

Toji paces around you, supposedly taking note of your form, but really he's peeking at the exposed skin that is revealed by your shirt raising up. Your stomach, your lower back, your waist, it's all eye candy. He gives your ass a good stare down once he's behind you again, but something that unexpectedly got him was you doing the final pull up cross-legged.

You groaned at the burn in your muscles, the force of your arms having to pull your weight up one more time. Even though your arms were shaking and your hands were in agony, you pulled up. Your chin made it slightly above the bar before you quickly dropped to the ground.

"That was good. I'm done. I'm out," you blurt, exhausted beyond belief.

Toji grabs your hands, examining your palms. "Gnarly," he mutters, running his thumb across the thickened, rough skin. "I've got just the thing for these in my car. Come on."

—

"Just a little bit of this will do the trick." He grabs a blue tub of hand salve from his glove compartment, twisting the lid off to reveal a faded pink colored substance. "Let me see," he says, after dipping his index finger into the tub. You put your hand in his, and watch as he distributes the medication across the bumps on the upper part of your palm. "Your hands are way too pretty to have any type of damage on them," he murmurs as he rubs your palm until the salve is properly smoothed in. He does it for your other hand as well, his excuse being that he can't just start something without finishing it. "Good to go," he says, before releasing your hand.

"Thanks," you respond. Thank god he turned the light of immediately, because it would have been mortifying if he saw the furious blush on your face.

"Don't mention it, doll." He inspects his own hands, and though his have calluses as well, he doesn't want to hold you up any longer, so he puts the lid back on the blue tub and stores it in his glove compartment. "Let's get you back home."

—

You felt tension throughout the whole drive back to your house. There wasn't as much conversation going on as before, but there was something. You felt something. You kept trading glances with him, occasionally meeting eyes. He could take turns, looking into your eyes and watching the road, but you wouldn't let it happen. As soon as he made eye contact with you, you turned to look out the window.

The tension was driving you insane, but at last, you made it home.

Toji turned the car off, his headlights dimming down until they lacked brilliance. You unbuckled your seatbelt, and made sure you had everything you brought with you.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Toji breaks the silence, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other on the compartment between your seats.

"I wouldn't do it more than three times a week," you joke, grinning at him.

"Hey, that's better than nothing. That's three days out of my week that I expect to see you... at the gym." Toji realizes the pause in his sentence was very much noticeable, so he chooses to elaborate. "You know, you can hit me up whenever. For the gym, a random food run, whatever. I have a pretty open schedule."

You laugh, nervously. "I don't. I work five days a week. I don't really have time unless I force it."

This doesn't discourage Toji. Rather, it raises the stakes for him.

"How about forcing some time out for me?" He sees the hesitant look on your face and decides to double up. "What do you have to lose? A boyfriend?"

Your jaw drops. You don't know if he's assuming you have a partner or if he's foreshadowing himself in your life.

"Is that your way if asking if i'm single...?"

"Maybe." He chuckles. "Only if it's not offensive to you."

"It's not. I'm not hiding it or anything like that, but yeah, i'm single."

Toji nods in acknowledgment, a content grin on his face. "Good to know. I won't be limiting my calls or text messages anymore, so pick up, will you?"

You smile. "I'll do my best." You take one more look at the floor to make sure nothing is left behind, before opening the door and stepping out.

"I'll stay until you make it inside your house. Need to make sure no one hops out of the bushes and drags you away."

"Stop, i'll have nightmares." You look at the bush next to your staircase and sigh. "Goodnight, Toji. Thanks for the ride," you say, slightly unsettled by the scary thought planted in your head.

"'Night, doll."

You shut the door and go up the stairs, carefully so that you don't stumble like you did the last two times. This time would be really embarrassing, considering Toji is still there waiting for you to make it home safely.

You unlock your door and shut it behind you, quickly, locking up for the night. You fast walk to the window, hoping Toji is still there, and thankfully he is. You wave goodbye to him as he's reversing his car, and he reciprocates with a hand raised above his steering wheel like before. You watch him drive off, his taillights being the only things visible in the dark street, until they're gone.

You turn the porch light off and secure your home, shutting the windows and closing the blinds. Once everything is closed, you throw carelessly throw yourself on the couch and allow yourself to melt—fully dissolve, at the thought of your time spent with Toji.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Inspo Credit: @nottorureadz 💙

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nerdgirlnarrates · 3 months

Text

Even though it's been months since I switched from neurosurgery to internal medicine, I still have a hard time not being angry about the training culture and particularly the sexism of neurosurgery. It wasn't the whole reason I switched, but truthfully it was a significant part of my decision.

I quickly got worn out by constantly being questioned over my family plans. Within minutes of meeting me, attendings and residents felt comfortable lecturing me on the difficulties of having children as a neurosurgeon. One attending even suggested I should ask my co-residents' permission before getting pregnant so as not to inconvenience them. I do not have children and have never indicated if I plan to have any. Truthfully, I do want children, but I would absolutely have foregone that to be a neurosurgeon. I wanted to be a neurosurgeon more than anything. But I was never asked: it was simply assumed that I would want to be a mother first. Purely because I'm a woman, my ambitions were constantly undermined, assumed to be lesser than those of my male peers. Women must want families, therefore women must be less committed. It was inconceivable that I might put my career first. It was impossible to disprove this assumption: what could I have done to demonstrate my commitment more than what I had already done by leading the interest group, taking a research year, doing a sub-I? My interest in neurosurgery would never be viewed the same way my male peers' was, no matter what I did. I would never be viewed as a neurosurgeon in the same way my male peers would be, because I, first and foremost, would be a mother. It turns out women don't even need to have children to be a mother: it is what you essentially are. You can't be allowed to pursue things that might interfere with your potential motherhood.

Furthermore, you are not trusted to know your own ambitions or what might interfere with your motherhood. I am an adult woman who has gone to medical school: I am well aware of what is required in reproduction, pregnancy, and residency, as much as one can be without experiencing it firsthand. And yet, it was always assumed that I had somehow shown up to a neurosurgery sub-I totally ignorant of the demands of the career and of pregnancy. I needed to be enlightened: always by men, often by childless men. Apparently, it was implausible that I could evaluate the situation on my own and come to a decision. I also couldn't be trusted to know what I wanted: if I said I wanted to be a neurosurgeon more than a mother, I was immediately reassured I could still have a family (an interesting flip from the dire warnings issued not five minutes earlier in the conversation). People could not understand my point, which was that I didn't care. I couldn't mean that, because women are fundamentally mothers. I needed to be guided back to my true role.

Because everyone was so confident in their sexist assumptions that I was less committed, I was not offered the same training, guidance, or opportunities as the men. I didn't have projects thrown my way, I didn't get check-ins or advice on my application process, I didn't get opportunities in the OR that my male peers got, I didn't get taught. I once went two whole days on my sub-I without anyone saying a word to me. I would come to work, avoid the senior resident I was warned hated trainees, figure out which OR to go to on my own, scrub in, watch a surgery in complete silence without even the opportunity to cut a knot, then move to the next surgery. How could I possibly become a surgeon in that environment? And this is all to say nothing of the rape jokes, the advice that the best way for a woman to match is to be as hot as possible, listening to my attending advise the male med students on how to get laid, etc.

At a certain point, it became clear it would be incredibly difficult for me to become a neurosurgeon. I wouldn't get research or leadership opportunities, I wouldn't get teaching or feedback, I wouldn't get mentorship, and I wouldn't get respect. I would have to fight tooth and nail for every single piece of my training, and the prospect was just exhausting. Especially when I also really enjoyed internal medicine, where absolutely none of this was happening and I even had attendings telling me I would be good at it (something that didn't happen in neurosurgery until I quit).

I've been told I should get over this, but I don't know how to. I don't know how to stop being mad about how thoroughly sidelined I was for being female. I don't know how to stop being bitter that my intelligence, commitment, and work ethic meant so much less because I'm a woman. I know I made the right decision to switch to internal medicine, and it probably would have been the right decision even if there weren't all these issues with the culture of neurosurgery, but I'm still so angry about how it happened.

#I would love to do something about this but I have no idea how to #even the faculty that I do really admire and respect seem entrenched in some of these attitudes #it's really hard to convince people that women aren't traitors in the making #simply because we might get pregnant one day and need time off #oh I also heard people shittalking a resident that was on maternity leave #and saying she wasn't serious about neurosurgery #so it's just inevitable #I'm not the only female student that feels this way btw #there's a reason no women have applied to nsgy from my school in years #sexism #neurosurgery #surgery #medicine #medical school #med school #med student #medblr #my content #my text posts

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steddiealltheway · 10 months

Text

"Steve! You've got to help me. I panicked, and I told my Tinder date that you and Eddie have been dating for two years!" Robin yells as she storms into their living room.

Luckily, Steve's gotten used to her entering their apartment in such a way over the past few years, but he barely registers what she says in her haste. He takes a moment to stare at her with his eyebrows drawn together in confusion, hoping the words will eventually make sense.

They don’t.

"What?"

Robin paces back and forth while gesturing wildly with her hands. "You know how I do the thing where I ramble around girls I find really really hot? Well, I was doing that, and I brought you up and kept going on about how annoying my roommate is-"

"Are you kidding m-"

Robin continues as if she didn't just insult him. "And she kind of stopped and look at me and said, 'Your roommate is a guy?' And I got confused and said yes because why would I lie? And she got all uncomfortable and started asking more questions like if you were gay or straight, and I told her you were bi, and she got even weirder! So, eventually I just straight up asked her what was wrong, and she said that she didn't want to go out with me if my roommate was potentially into me. So I told her that wasn't a problem because you've been dating Eddie for two years." She finishes with that awkward lip bite she does which can be oddly endearing sometimes. But it’s not this time.

Steve leans forward on the couch. "I'm sorry. You still want to go out with a girl who has no trust in my ability to keep things in my pants? As if she doesn't trust that you're a lesbian and if I ever made a move on you, you would absolutely punch me in the throat."

Robin sits next to him and grabs his hands. "She's so so hot, Steve. Please."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Fine, you can keep telling her that I’m dating Eddie, I guess."

Robin breaks eye contact and starts picking at her nail polish.

Well, that’s not a great sign. "What aren't you telling me?"

Robin slowly looks at him in the way a dog looks at their owner after destroying their favorite shoes. "Okay, so then I really got a bit crazy, and when she asked me to show me pictures of you two together, I dropped my phone in my glass of water." She slowly pulls out her phone, and sure enough, it won't even turn on.

Steve digs the heels of his hands into his eyes before grabbing her phone and stalking off to the kitchen to find rice and a bowl. Robin follows after him.

"So, all I need to do is take a few pictures of you guys looking really coupley on dates and whatnot and make it look like they range over the past two years. I also told Veronica that I would let her meet you two sometime soon,” She rushes in to add the second thing before Steve can really process the first one. She just smiles, trying to look all sweet and endearing.

Steve gives Robin the best bitchy glare he has, but she shoots him one back and counters by saying, "You owe me, and you know it."

"For what?" Steve asks as he pours rice over her phone.

Robin crosses her arms. "Three weeks ago, you kicked me out of the apartment without warning to have sex with some random girl, and I was left stranded for the night."

Steve scoffs, "You went to Nancy's and slept in her very nice guest bedroom!"

"You owe me!"

Steve puts the bag of rice down and sighs. "Fine, but if Eddie doesn't agree, then I'm out."

Robin smiles. "Deal."

Steve hates how confident she is about the whole thing, so he calls Eddie and puts him on speaker. When he answers, Steve immediately says, "Hey, Eddie, you're on speaker with me and Robin, and she has a very ridiculous request for you. I'll let her tell you the details."

After Robin recounts her night and Steve tries not to rant about how much of a bad vibe he gets from the girl, Eddie pauses for a bit to take it all in. Then, he says, "Robin, I really don't like this Veronica girl."

"She's hot!" Robin retorts.

Eddie snorts on the other line. "I'm in if Steve's in."

Steve's jaw drops. Robin shoots him a big smile. "Perfect! What if we started on pictures early tomorrow? I've got a lot of random dates to prepare you guys for."

Steve interrupts before Eddie can answer. "And why can't you show her like... three pictures of us cuddling on the couch?"

"We need to cover our tracks as much as we can and cuddling on the couch a few times won’t do. Oh, we should hang a few pictures of you two around the apartment!" Robin plots excitedly.

Steve runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. He can't believe he's doing this. They don’t even have pictures hanging up.

"Tomorrow works for me," Eddie says, entirely oblivious to Steve’s internal struggle.

But Steve can't help but get a little excited at the thought of seeing Eddie and spending a whole day with him.

So, he sucks it up and says, "I'm free, too. And I'm excited to see you, Eddie. I've missed you."

"I saw you yesterday," Eddie laughs on the other line.

Steve blushes and argues, "Seeing you for a minute when I get my coffee doesn't count."

"Whatever you say, pumpkin bread."

Pumpkin bread? Steve scrunches up his nose in protest. “That’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.”

"Just practicing for when we meet this Veronica girl, my peach."

Steve can’t help but laugh. "We are not that kind of couple. But I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night. Sweet dreams, rubber ducky."

Eddie laughs loudly on the other line and muffles the sound probably with his hand.

Steve bites his lip, trying not to get too pleased at causing that reaction.

"Good night, sweetheart." The line beeps three times as the call ends, and Steve can't help the smile that grows on his face. Sweetheart... he kind of likes that one.

"Glad to see you two get into your roles," Robin says with a smirk.

Steve jumps back, having forgotten she was there. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight.” With that, he quickly rushes off to his room before Robin can say anything else about the interaction.

"Goodnight, dingus!" she calls after him joyously.

This all better be worth it.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next morning, Steve can't help but get a little nervous when Eddie sends him an "Almost there!" text. He has a feeling this whole thing is going to blow up in their faces or something.

He's always known that Eddie's been cute. Hell, the first time he saw him, Steve thought he was hot. But he had never thought of them together after that. Sure, there was definitely a certain chemistry between them, but for some reason, Steve always saw him as off-limits. Especially since Dustin would kill him if he ever broke Eddie's heart.

So, Steve learned to push down any feelings he's had for him over the years. And he's afraid that all those repressed feelings are going to come up today.

There's a knock on his and Robin's apartment door, and Steve freezes. Hopefully his and Eddie’s friendship will survive whatever happens next.

Here goes nothing.

He opens the door to find a curly head of hair in front of him that isn't Eddie's.

"Nancy?"

"Hi! I'm here to take pictures today," she explains as she walks through the door, wiggling her Canon camera in her hand. "I thought Robin told you."

"She certainly did not," Steve says and pinches his nose. He might kill her. He pushes the door shut, but it stops.

"Hey," Eddie says peaking his head out from behind the door and catching Steve’s eye quickly. "Sorry, I'm late," he apologizes as he pulls Steve into a tight hug.

Steve lingers in it, squeezing Eddie tightly, smelling the lavender shampoo he uses, and trying to make the moment last as long as he can.

The sound of a camera shutter snaps him out of the moment.

He pulls back and looks at Nancy.

"Taking some candid pictures," she says unapologetically.

But Steve doesn't care too much when he feels Eddie's hand linger on his back. "You're taking pictures for us? What happened to Robin?"

"Yes, what did happen to Robin?" Steve asks raising his voice so she'll hear him.

"Coming!" she yells then comes out of her room looking very strangely put together. Steve glances down at her wrist and notices her wearing her lucky black bracelet. When did she start wearing that again?

"You look nice," Nancy says with a soft smile.

"Thanks," Robin replies with a soft blush.

Steve is definitely missing something, but he can't pay attention when Eddie is gently rubbing his back. He's going to end up dying on the spot.

"Eddie!" Robin says, finally noticing him, "I see you brought the extra clothes."

Steve glances down to where Eddie's suitcase sits on the floor. He does not remember him bringing that in. Shit, he's so distracted by his presence. Wait. "Why did you bring extra clothes?" he asks Eddie then notices how close they're standing. Oh, hello, Eddie's very soft-looking lips.

"I told you we're covering two years. That means different seasons," Robin says as if the answer is obvious.

Hell no. "There's no way in hell I'm wearing cold clothes outside in the heat."

"Good thing I planned for us to stay in for those pictures," Nancy says with a smile on her face. "Now go change into one of your sweaters or something. Oh! Eddie, you should change with him so you two can color coordinate. It'll be so cute!"

Steve adds Nancy to the list of people he might murder.

Eddie's hand drops from his back as he wheels the suitcase into Steve's room. Steve follows and closes the door behind him.

"Sorry for all this," Steve says, glancing around to make sure nothing embarrassing is laying out.

Eddie shakes his head and brushes it off as if it's nothing, "Nah, it's all good. I think it could be fun if we let it. Color coordinating is a horrible idea though."

"Agreed," Steve replies, deciding that his room looks fine. He opens up his closet and pushes his short sleeve clothes to the side to try to get to his sweaters hanging in the back. "What are you thinking for clothes?"

"I don't care as long as you wear your yellow sweater for one of the pictures."

Steve snorts. For some reason, Eddie had such an attachment to the thing. One time, he mistakenly put it in his designated donation bin, and he thought Eddie was going to cry when he found it.

He had cradled the thing to his chest and dramatically said, "You don't understand, Steve. Some people's lives depend on you wearing this sweater. Their lives, Steve."

Steve had rolled his eyes, put it back on a hanger, and hung it with the other sweaters. "Better?" he asked.

"Much better."

And the whole thing had been worth it to see the smile on Eddie's face - especially when Steve decided to surprise him by wearing it to the coffee shop the next day.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Eddie asks with a smile, suddenly very close to him.

Steve shakes his head as if shaking away the memory. "Nothing."

Eddie raises an eyebrow but he doesn't push it before he goes back to his suitcase and starts laying out his clothes on Steve's bed.

Steve strips off his shirt and pulls the sweater over his head. He glances down at his jeans and decides that Veronica probably won't remember what pants he was wearing in each picture.

He turns to tell Eddie as much but freezes when he sees Eddie shirtless, sorting through the clothes to find the perfect assortment of layers. Steve swallows and adverts his eyes. He is not going to check him out while he's changing. He clears his throat and turns back to his closet. "I think we just need to change our shirts. Maybe outside, you can start with a base layer then add on top of that."

Steve doesn't think he can stand to see shirtless Eddie with all his tattoos out in the daylight or the moonlight - if it takes that long. And he certainly does not want to let anyone else see that either.

"That's smart, babe."

Steve's hand squeezes whatever poor shirt he was grabbing a little too tight at the nickname. He's never been one for nicknames, especially over-the-top ones, but knowing it's Eddie calling him that as if he really does love him... it really does something for Steve.

He doesn't reply as he grabs a few shirts and jackets and lays them out on the bed next to Eddie's stuff.

He glances up at Eddie and almost breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that he has a shirt on. And a flannel. And his leather jacket. Thank goodness for layers.

He looks back at Eddie's face and catches the exact moment that Eddie registers him wearing the yellow sweater. His eyes fill with unhinged excitement and joy. He walks right into Steve's space and leans down - oh my god - to talk to the sweater.

"I've missed you so much. You know, it's so unfair that Steve only gets to wear you for a small part of the year. And he doesn't own anything short-sleeved in your beautiful color it seems."

Steve puts his hands on his hips and stares up at the ceiling. He can't believe he's ever had trouble pushing down feelings for this man.

(But he makes a note to himself to buy more things in yellow just for him.)

There’s a loud knocking on the door, then Robin yells, “You two have been in there for a while! Everything okay?”

“Eddie is talking to my sweater again!” Steve calls back.

There’s a pause before Nancy says, “Sorry, we didn’t hear you right. What?”

“I’m talking to his sweater! Be out soon!” Eddie yells.

There’s some mumbling outside the door as Steve finally looks down at Eddie and asks, “Are you done?”

Eddie smiles up at him. “Never.”

But he straightens up and presses a quick kiss to Steve’s shoulder before he turns to leave the room. “That was for the sweater, not you,” Eddie clarifies.

“Right,” Steve replies. Because that makes so much sense.

Today is going to kill him.

Part two ;)

(This was meant to just be a ficlet for my dear friend @henderdads , and then it turned into a six-part fic. I hope you enjoy!! ((Especially you, Cass)) AO3 Link here!)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steddie fanfic #stranger things

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in-som-niyah · 2 months

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No thoughts just jason todd obsessed with the idea of his girl being pregnant with his baby

Like this man would def be so soft and doting and protective.

Also imaginning how soft sex would be between them at that point cuz he wouldn't want to disturb the baby too much

YESSSSSSSSS

Like if Jason ever felt secure enough to be a father given his ahem... ✨lifestyle✨ he would be sooooo protective of reader like

You were reaching for a jar up in the cupboard of your shared home (Jason waited until you were both settled into a proper home instead of the shitty apartment in Gotham before even thinking of getting you pregnant) before you felt a pair of heavy feet approach you. Before you could finish reaching, a strong hand planted itself at the side of your bump and gently moved you aside, stopping your movements. Annoyed, you look up at the owner of said hand, who had broken his promise of letting you do small things for yourself around the house again. "Jay, I can do it" you pout as you place your chin on his toned chest. Jason smiles down at you and chuckles lightly before using both his hands to rub at your bump. "I know you can princess, I just wanna help" He says back with an equally-adorable pout in his face. "But I told you, I can do things! I'm pregnant, not paralyzed." You chuckled. "It makes me feel useless to be honest" His brows proudly display their displeasure at your statement and his pout vanished. His hands make their way around to rub at your back now, where he knows you've been sore. "No baby, you're never useless. Hell, you could sit in bed all day and make me bring you all your cravings and you still wouldn't be useless." He says matter-of-factly. At this, he plants a kiss on the top of your hairline and rests his chin at the top of your head. "Yeah, but-" You tried to reply, but a cheeky kiss behind your ear stopped you. A gruff 'mmm-mmm' of disproval reverberates from Jason's chest, followed by another kiss on your cheek, then neck, then collar then...

I totally agree he would be into sex during pregnancy (you're so sexy carrying his child but he would be so scared to hurt you since you're so precious to him) especially if its soft and loving!!! Y'all he's a loverboy softie at heart and he just loves you so much and is so thankful that you trust him with raising a kid and caring for you in the process!!!!

I feel like he would avoid sex or sexual contact just to be safe and make sure you're not feeling pressured into being with him since your body is changing in ways truly neither of you really fully understand.

BUT GODDDDDDDD DOES IT DRIVE YOU UP THE WALL

Pregnancy hormones be damned, every flex of his bicep or stretch of his back made you want to climb. him. like. a. fucking. tree.

It was late one night, Jason didn't have patrol (thank the fucking heavens) but he was out running some errands. You were in bed, snuggled in your (his) t-shirt, catching up on some tiktok drama (iykyk) and scrolling through your fyp. Until you came across a gym video of a guy attempting to lift 230lbs. You vaguely remember Jason teasing Dick about how much they both could lift, and it was well over 230lbs, thats for sure. Oh, but Jason's much more muscular, and plus, he's tall. Very, very tall. He's built like an actual brick wall now that you think about it. A tall, muscular, strong, handsome, brick wall. Wetness began to pool at your core thinking about how strong and huge Jason was, and you thought of having a quick session before Jason got home. You knew you should wait for him, but he's been so occupied and distant and careful with you that you didn't have much confidence in his answer if you did in fact ask him to fuck you the way you wanted to be. Out of the locked section of the bottom drawer of your nightstand came a small, yet mighty wand vibrator. Lucky for you, Jason remembered to charge it the last time y'all had some fun. Which was sadly, a while ago. Too horny to dwell in the negative, you press and hold the power button and go to town. The task soon proved difficult since you had a large island of tummy in the way, but you managed to almost get there. Just a bit more pressure and- Thud. The sound of a large bag unceremoniously dropping to the floor ripped you out of your blissful activities. Eyes wide and frantic, you scan the room for anything that looked out of place. 'Maybe something fell?' you thought, but that was quickly put to bed when your gaze meets Jason's clenched jaw and disappointedly folded hands. You flinched when he swiftly crossed the room, forgetting whatever was in the bag at the door. There were more, very important things to attend to. Before you could open your mouth to even try and explain yourself he interjects in an eerily calm way. "Did you cum?" He asks, softly, but his authority is very clear in his tone. "N-no" You answer sheepishly. You were in no mood to try an explain why you felt the need to turn to the mediocre satisfaction of a toy when you had a whole ass sex machine as your husband if he so chose to question you. "hmm thats what I thought, querida." He finished with a nurturing yet pitiful tone. Jason climbs into bed, and crawls on top of you to where you're face to face and his chain is dangling just above your neck. "Just one question" He begins. "Why didn't you tell me you were feeling this way?" You chew your lip. He's been such an amazing husband to you before you got pregnant, and after he found out he upped his game some more. You didn't even know it was possible to be loved like that and you felt bad that you couldn't even control yourself long enough to just appreciate what he's already doing for you. A tear fell down your cheek, which Jason kissed away, and you told him how you felt guilty for asking him for sex, since the reason why he wasn't driving you into the bed was a sincere and honest fear he had. You knew he couldn't stand to hurt you, so he would much rather stop completely than take a chance. "my poor girl, I haven't been doing my part have I?" He murmurs just before capturing your lips in his. You melt into him, your hands flying up to touch him, hold him, feel him in places you haven't in so long. In between the marks on your neck and upper chest, Jason pauses briefly to apologize, as if your skin was cross with the lack of contact. "p-please" you whimper in a small voice when his hands begin to grip your hips firmly. "I know, I know amorcita. Let daddy make it up to u hm? I'll take care of you this time. Promise it'll be worth it."

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

a/n: GODDDDD i wanna climb him like a tree holy shit this is so sexy

like the way hes so soft and gentle just makes me explode

best fucking ask bro tysm <333333

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floralcyanide · 9 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 - 𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲

cillian murphy x f!eader (nsfw)

In which your breeding kink comes to light and causes a night full of undying pleasure with your boyfriend, Cillian.

warnings: smut, breeding kink, nipple play, kind of mentions the idea of breastfeeding (not by Cillian lol), biting, choking, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), pussy slapping, dirty talk, fingering, tongue-fucking

word count: 2039

author’s note: warning I didn't read this after I wrote it so if it flows weird or has repetition or anything, I'm sorry lol I just needed to post this for ya'll!! please reblog/ like or comment if you enjoyed it, I love feedback < 3

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

Your head is in CIllian’s lap, his fingers carding through your hair gently as the two of you watch a movie. The lighting is dim, candles are lit throughout the living room, and an almost empty bottle of wine sits on the coffee table. You’ve got a slight buzz, and Cillian’s massaging of your scalp is making you dizzier. Kids run and play in the movie you’re watching, and suddenly, a thought pops into your head and comes straight out of your mouth.

“I want kids someday.”

You freeze, holding your breath for Cillian’s response.

You feel a hum rumble through your boyfriend as he continues to play in your hair, “Really?”

“Yeah,” you say, rolling over on your back so your face was toward the ceiling, “I mean, maybe.”

“It’s life-changing. It can be rough, but it’s a beautiful experience raising children,” Cillian admits, looking down at you.

The thought of mothering Cillian’s children sends chills across your body and warmth in your belly. You know he’s probably content with his two sons and couldn’t possibly want more children, but the mere idea of him cumming in you with a purpose turns you on. You have a breeding kink but have yet to bring it up to Cillian, as it’s a risky type of kink. Even though the two of you are in a committed and established relationship, neither of you has ever brought up the topic of having kids together. And going through with the breeding aspect of the kink entails the possibility of pregnancy. At this point in your partnership, though, you don’t bother using protection anymore as you trust each other wholeheartedly. Birth control is still used, however. You don’t have to have kids, of course, but the carnal need to be filled up by someone you love deeply is thrilling to think about.

“I know you’re well past wanting any more kids,” you say, looking Cillian in his enthralling eyes, “So it’s not something I think about too often.”

“I’m open to the idea, but if this is something you really want, we should definitely discuss it,” Cillian says, tracing his thumb along your jawline.

“It’s more or so the process of having kids that has always intrigued me,” you purse your lips, trying to think of how to get your desires across to him.

“You mean sex?” Cillian chuckles, “This sure is an interesting way of asking.”

You roll your eyes, smacking his stomach lightly, “Yes, but that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

You sit upright, moving over to straddle CIllian’s lap before grabbing his face and kissing him deeply.

Pulling an inch away from his lips, you press yourself into him, “I want you to fuck a baby into me.”

“But-”

“I want you to breed me like an animal in heat,” you whisper, dragging your thumb across Cillian’s bottom lip, “Fill me up with your cum.”

Cillian clears his throat, “I think I know what you’re hinting at here.”

“And?” you search his eyes for any inkling of distaste.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, my love,” Cillian shakes his head, snaking his arms around your waist as he stands up.

You wrap your arms and legs around him as he kisses you again, teeth clashing against yours. He nearly bumps you into the wall on the way to the bedroom, but you’re too focused on the feeling of Cillian’s mouth and his tongue lapping yours to really care. Finally arriving in the bedroom, Cillian drops you on the bed on your back, dragging you to the edge of the mattress by your ankles. You let out a squeal as he does so, giddiness shrouding you. The bedroom basks in soft light from the nightstand lamp, bringing out Cillian’s taut facial features. He focuses his weight on his hands, which are pressed into the bed at the sides of your head. He hovers over you, his icy blue eyes now darker around his blown pupils.

“A breeding kink, hmm?” Cillian smirks, leaning into your ear, “That’s hot. Good thing I’m into it as well.”

Shivers promptly cover your body in goosebumps as Cillian nips the shell of your left ear, sliding his tongue across your earlobe before taking it into his mouth. He bites it gently before pressing his lips to where your jaw meets your neck, cascading kisses along your skin. Your arms find themselves wrapped around Cillian’s shoulders as he travels to your neck with his searing lips. He then bites and sucks bruises on the column of your throat, marking you as his. Removing your sleep shirt, Cillian finds you have already shed your bra at some point in the evening. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he stares at your breasts, eyes hungry for you. Cillian then puts all his weight onto your abdomen, moving both his hands from around your head to grasp at your chest. He caresses his index fingers over your nipples, exhaling a satisfied laugh when they perk up immediately. Cillian dives his head down, taking your right nipple between his lips and slowly flicking his tongue across the sensitive bud. You groaned, unable to squeeze your legs together for friction as Cillian’s chest was between them. The other nipple is being lightly pinched, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. He continues focusing on your breasts, gradually getting rougher and harder with twists and bites.

“Wanna see your beautiful tits swollen with milk,” Cillian mutters, leaving bite marks on the skin around your areola.

His words cause you to become wetter, your hips involuntarily thrusting into Cillian’s, “Fuck, Cill.”

He massages your breasts, squeezing them and pushing them upward as he plays with your nipples.

“Need you to touch me, please,” you whine, your chest becoming sensitive.

Cillian moves down to your stomach, kissing and swirling his tongue around your belly button, “Gonna make your stomach nice and big with my baby.”

Cillian pulls down your lounge pants, tossing them to the floor. He grabs your hips, his thumbs anchoring you to the mattress as his breath fans across your damp underwear.

“So wet for me already? Ready to take me and let me fill you up?” Cillian nips at the skin of your thighs, his eyes not moving from yours.

“Yes,” you whimper, unable to wiggle your hips from his grip on them, “Need you inside me.”

“Need to prep you first, love,” Cillian kisses the wet spot of your underwear before pulling them off.

His tongue licks a fat stripe from your entrance to your swollen bundle of nerves, his beautiful lips encircling it as he lightly sucks it between his teeth. You can’t help but let out a deep moan at the contact, impatiently wishing he’d fuck you with either his fingers or his cock already. But of course, Cillian loves to tease and take all you have to offer before giving you what you want. He releases your clit, now focusing on your soaking entrance as he laps up your arousal there, pushing his tongue inside you. Cillian moves your hips upward so his tongue delves deeper into you, causing your toes to curl. Suddenly, a finger slides in underneath his tongue, exploring your g spot. You tremble at the feeling as pleasure courses through your veins. Then, Cillian adds another digit as he begins to fuck you with his fingers and tongue simultaneously. You thrust your hips as his free hand guided you to mercilessly ride his tongue and two middle fingers. You can feel the pressure of an orgasm creeping up on you, but you don’t want to cum yet.

“I need you inside of me,” you struggle to speak, your mind cloudy with lust.

Cillian slowly removes himself from your needy pussy, and you can feel yourself clench around nothing. He takes off his shirt, followed by his lounge pants and underwear. His length is hard against his stomach, leaking and ready for you.

“On your hands and knees, darling,” Cillian orders, and you hurry to the top of the bed, hugging a pillow as you lean down and jut your ass in the air.

Cillian flattens his hand on your shoulder blades, running his palm along your spine until it reaches your ass, where he gently squeezes. He spreads you open with both hands and your arousal glistens in the moody light of the bedroom.

“Soaked and ready for this cock, huh?” Cillian pushes your back down even further until your chest and abdomen are flush with the bed.

“Yes, sir,” you say, quivering with anticipation.

Cillian aligns himself with your core, sliding his head along your wetness, gathering enough for him to push in slowly without struggle. Your walls clench around him tightly as he inches into you. Finally, Cillian’s hips are against your ass, and he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in.

“Fuck,” you sneer, fingernails digging into the pillow.

“Taking me so well,” Cillian grunts, slamming into you again, “Gonna slam my cock into your womb and fill it up with my cum.”

You whine into the pillowcase as his rhythm increases, your body rutting into the mattress. Suddenly, a slap lands on your cunt, causing you to jolt and clench harder around Cillian’s length.

“That feel good?” Cillian leans over you, his face now next to yours, “You’re so wet, I can feel you gushing around me.”

You moan loudly into the pillow as he pounds into your cervix, his head dragging along your g spot flawlessly with every thrust. Cillian slaps your clit over and over with the same rhythm as his thrusts, making you cry out. He grabs a fistful of your hair as he sits back up, pulling your head from the safety of the plush pillow.

“I wanna hear you, sweetheart. I wanna hear you take my cock like the cum-hungry slut you are,” Cillian says, pulling your hair harshly.

“God, fuck,” you scream as he thrusts particularly deep inside you, “I’m your slut. I need you to cum in me, Cill. So bad,” you whimper.

His pace becomes relentless, his hips snapping into your asscheeks forcefully as he takes you from behind. But he then pulls out, lets go of your hair, and flips you over on your back, and you nearly scream from frustration at the sudden emptiness. Cillian wastes no time pulling your legs onto his shoulders and rentering you, grabbing your hips and pulling them forward so he can fuck you as deep as possible. He slaps your sensitive and red clit again, over and over, before reaching his hand around your neck. He squeezes the sides of your throat, dizzying you as he slams his cock into your cervix almost violently. You were definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp as Cillian grasps your breasts, harshly pulling and twisting your hard nipples.

“Do you want me to finish fucking this baby into you? Gonna milk my cock as you cum and feel me fill you up to the brim> Is that what you want?”

“Yes, please! Please, fuck, fill me up, Cillian. I need you so bad,” you moan, throwing your head back.

“Fuck,” Cillian growls, snapping his hips up, hitting you at a new and delicious angle.

It doesn’t take long for you to orgasm, as Cillian gives you one last particularly harsh slap to your clit before rubbing it vigorously. He soon follows with his own, his warm seed filling you as your walls milk him for every drop. Cillian runs his hand down your body until he pulls out, arousal and cum seeping out of you. He gathers some on his fingers before shoving them into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his digits, tasting a hint of yourself mixed with CIllian’s cum.

“Did you want me to take my pill tonight?” you say after catching your breath and letting Cillian collapse beside you.

“Only if you want to,” he says, “But I think we’d have a beautiful child.”

You chuckle before rolling on your side and tossing your arm over his warm chest, “That we would.”

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