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celeryb1tch · 1 month

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spencer reid x student!reader

18+! this post contains nsfw content

when spencer gets home from work he finds that you haven’t finished your essay, so he tries to ease your mind.

content: lots of pet names, fem!reader, you’re getting an arts degree lol, age gap but not too intense since this is early-ish seasons spencer, slight degradation at the end, reader orgasm, oral and fingering (r! receives), overstim, forced orgasm.

(i’m literally gay but i’ve been so delusional and in love with this fictional man lately i had to write something to get it out of my system!!!)

—

when your boyfriend came home from work, tie loose and satchel abandoned on the kitchen counter, you felt a wave of embarrassment flush you. you were still working on the same essay you had been last night; the one spencer made you promise you’d finish today.

“how is my pretty girl?” he asked, laying back beside you on the couch. when he leaned over to kiss you chastely, your stomach churned and you shut your laptop quickly.

you could feel hot tears start to pool in your eyes, biting back the sob you so desperately needed to get out. spencer took one look at your face and sighed, wrapping an arm around you.

“oh, baby. you didn’t finish it?”

“i tried!” you protested, your eyes squeezed shut to avoid seeing his disappointed face. “please don’t be mad at me.”

spencer’s gentle hand cupped your cheek, running his thumb across it lightly. “look at me, angel. i’m not mad.”

the floodgates opened when you finally dared to look at him, seeing his mouth pressed in a flattened line. tears streaked your face and it only added to the embarrassment. your boyfriend was a capable man, and here you were crying because you couldn’t finish a stupid essay before he got home from his 9-to-5.

he tried to hold you closer, but you struggled against him. you didn’t deserve his comfort or his sympathy. he settled for running his free hand through your hair soothingly. “hey, just talk to me. what went wrong, can i help?”

you shook your head, fighting through a hiccupped sob to answer. “i couldn’t find the last source i need. i was sifting through articles for like four hours, and i just gave up.”

ever the problem solver, spencer smiled down at you softly. “okay, let me take a look. you know i have fairly good research skills, they’re kinda required for my job.”

“you don’t get it!” you huffed, frustration evident in your voice. “you go to work all day and i can’t even find one source. one! i shouldn’t need your help for everything.”

recognition flashed in his eyes, and then he really pulled you in. it was useless to relent, you could feel the determination in his touch. he shushed you softly, one hand wrapped around you firmly while the other drew patterns on your back. when your breaths slowed and your sobs subsided, he pulled back to hold you at arms’ length. “baby, you are one of the smartest people i know.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and spencer grabbed your chin to ensure you couldn’t look away.

“i wouldn’t lie. no one i know is as sensitive as you are, as empathetic and in touch with their emotions. that’s what makes you so good at this program. i certainly couldn’t complete your degree.”

and you knew how bad at concealing the truth your boyfriend was, so reluctantly you believed him. “thank you,” you just about whispered.

his eyes cast pure adoration on you, even as your tear-stained cheeks were red and raw. “your incredible brain is one of the reasons i fell in love with you. so if you can’t find anything, there must be a reason. could you please just let me take a look?”

spencer had indisputably won you over, one arm still holding you to his side as he opened your laptop on his own lap. you relaxed into him, head pressed to his chest where you could hear his heart beating perfectly. with a hum, he scanned your tabs in a matter of seconds, scrolling to the bottom of the search result page at a speed the computer could barely keep up with. “i know what it is, but you’re not going to be happy.”

lifting your head, you squinted at your boyfriend inquisitively.

“you were typing the date wrong, honey. the last two numbers were flipped.”

you felt that feeling of incapability rush through you again, your eyes stinging in preparation to cry. but spencer was right there to prevent you from shutting down, hand on your head passing slow strokes in comfort.

his lips hitched into a small sympathetic smile when he looked down at you. “my poor girl, worked yourself up so hard your brain stopped working. too much essay writing this week.”

and of course, he was right. you’d been running yourself ragged recently trying to keep up with deadlines, not to mention the extra work you’d taken on early to prevent overwhelm for finals. when you’d told him your plan, spencer had advised against it. he didn’t want you sacrificing your sanity now for a bit more time with your boyfriend in a few months. but never not supportive, he relented and instead helped you draft a schedule to complete everything.

you couldn’t feel too stupid with spencer’s sweet voice telling you that you weren’t. “it’s not even due until next week, remember? i just wanted you to finish it tonight so i could take you out to dinner,” he confided sheepishly. “you’ve been working so hard, i wanted to reward you.”

despite knowing it was physically impossible (as spencer reminded you often), you could feel your heart swell from the overwhelming love you felt for your boyfriend. you pecked kisses all over his face incessantly until he swatted you away, blushing crimson from the unexpected affection. “okay, where are we going?”

spencer hummed mischievously in faux thought, tucking your wild hairs back from your face. “you didn’t finish your essay, so i actually think it’s only fair to punish you. at least before i take you out anyway.”

a heat bloomed in you, both in your cheeks and between your legs. it was rare that your boyfriend was anything but tooth-achingly sweet with you, saving his more dominant side for certain circumstances. apparently this was one of them. “oh, really? how are you gonna punish me, sir?”

he pulled you into his lap, mouth finding your neck immediately. “if you’re going to be stupid, i might as well treat you like you are. i know how much you like it when i call you a dumb slut, despite the fact that we’re both aware of how intelligent you are.”

your core ached with need, fluttering at his words. “that’s kinda fucked up, huh? i shouldn’t want that.”

“actually, it’s fairly common, especially for women with a high amount of stress in their everyday lives. most people enjoy some form of degradation and or praise when having sex.”

“spencer,” you groaned. his beautiful brain always had to get in the way of the fun, not that you seriously minded.

he smiled, pressing his lips to yours again. “sorry, baby. yes, it makes you a very naughty girl.”

despite the pure love in his eyes and his touch, you felt a pang of arousal when he degraded you. it felt good to be demeaned by someone who thought so highly of you. so you let him pin you against the couch, clothes long forgotten, and relished in his nasty words as he sunk to his knees before you.

your laptop was somewhere on the ground, still open to that unfinished document. but it was the last thing on your mind when you felt spencer’s mouth trailing down your front. his fingers hooked your panties, pulling them down with a string of arousal attached. “fuck,” he grumbled. “you are a little slut, aren’t you?”

you struggled to respond as his fingers passed through your folds, thumb toying with your clit lightly. “mhm, yours.”

“that’s right, baby.” all of the showy dominance dropped for a second when he smiled up at you, that familiar twinkle of passion in his eyes. and then he ate you out.

all you could do was grip the bedsheets, small whines leaving you each time he ran his tongue roughly up your clit. he’d take a moment to kiss your inner thighs, slipping two fingers inside to hit that sweet spot when he wasn’t lavishing it with his mouth. it wasn’t long before you were on the edge, feeling the knot snap in your stomach. with a start, you gasped through your orgasm, spencer’s hand finding yours to soothingly stroke his thumb across your knuckles. but as your breaths slowed, he didn’t.

“spence, i’m done,” you panted, hand gripping his hair.

“no you’re not.”

with a roll of your eyes, you tried to pull your hips away to no avail. his fingers were still pumping into you at a relentless pace. his head raised to meet your eyes, slick across his lips. he looked wild like this, disheveled, so different from your normal boyfriend, who was almost too sweet for his own good. “i told you this was a punishment.”

even knelt between your legs, this spencer was in complete control. his gaze was locked on yours, watching every tiny movement when he skimmed his thumb across your clit again. your core reignited when you realized what was going on. he was going to force you to cum again.

“please, too much” you whined, free hand pushing the top of his head away in a superficial effort. you couldn’t think properly with the intensity of the overstimulation.

spencer licked his lips, voice gravelly in a tone it only reached when he was purely aroused. “you can take it, honey. i know you can be a good girl for me. don’t you wanna be good?”

you nodded silently. there wasn’t much you could do but let him fuck you stupid.

“that’s it. gonna make you dumb, yeah? i’m gonna fuck you until you can’t think.” his head dipped down, resuming his wet, sloppy kisses to your clit. and with the combined effects of his words and actions, you were cumming again quickly.

you were unabashedly moaning now, jaw slacked open and eyes screwed shut. you were far past the point of caring what you looked like to the man furiously devouring you between your legs. your hand gripped his tighter, feeling his fingers pound a bit harder in acknowledgment.

your second orgasm felt like being catapulted into the atmosphere. it was sharper, practically knocking the air from your lungs. it took you a few moments to stop panting.

spencer grinned up at you, a sight for sore eyes in your clouded vision. “thinking about anything, baby?” he asked. and when he only received a small shake of your head, “good.”

his mouth returned to your core, soft kitten licks causing you to twitch and wince away. he squeezed your hand firmly, giving you a stern look. “only cleaning you up this time, promise.”

once you weren’t dripping arousal down your thighs, spencer pulled you onto him when he sat back down on the couch. all you could focus on were his warm, strong hands tracing sequences on your skin. he loved to imagine binary code, mapping it out on you because he knew the motion calmed you down.

you were barely conscious, brain buzzing like tv static in the post-sex bliss. you heard spencer chuckle to himself before saying, “so i think we’re getting takeout.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #molly’s!#spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut

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staytheword · 1 year

Text

on my mind

on my mind — one shot request by anon [ masterlist ]

• han jisung x female reader.

• non idol au. roommates to lovers. mutual pining. drinking, mention of weed consumption, explicit language, explicit smut.

• smut warnings (spoilers ahead) — porn watching. handjob. oral sex (m receiving). thigh riding. fingering. use of "baby" pet name. protected sex.

• word count: 8.6k

You and Jisung are stressed over your upcoming exams. You need to clear your heads, but you can't find anything that works. That is, until Jisung suggests watching porn together.

• the prompt was friends "using" each other to take the stress out... I hope this will fill your expectations!! ♡

You slam your book closed, an annoyed sigh escaping your lips.

You can’t do this anymore.

You’ve been studying for hours. In fact, you’ve been studying for weeks preparing for those exams. Your eyes are about to melt, your body aching to move from your chair, your brain desperately seeking distraction. You’re sick of this. Sick of stressing yourself out, sick of only allowing yourself to think about what is in these books. The exams are still several days away and you’ll have time to fall back into your anxiety - for now, you deserve a break and you are going to take it.

Or you’re going to try.

It’s not the first time you tell yourself that - take a break, you deserve it. You close your books and computer, full of resolve, and escape the confines of your room. Each time you end up just pacing the apartment, unable to focus on the movie you’ve put on or the game you’ve started. Once you made it outside for a walk, but you had no idea where to go and ended up walking in circles. Your brain is so preoccupied with your exams you can’t do much else. You wake up and it’s all you think about - and before you know it you collapse on the bed, exhausted.

As you hear someone knock on your door, you blink and realize you’ve been phasing out. You shake your head, slide a hand through your hair - it has gotten too long in the past few weeks - and clear your throat.

“Come in,” you say, your voice a little rusty.

Jisung pokes his head in from behind the door. “Hey. You hungry?”

At least you are not alone. Jisung is going through the same thing as you, so you promised each other to do what is necessary to stay sane. Remind the other to eat, for instance, and then eat the meals together, even if it is in complete silence. You’re also very open about your stress, and you force each other to go out or clear your head. If he wasn’t here, you have no idea how you would get through this.

You hadn’t been sure about becoming Jisung’s roommate at the beginning of the year, but you didn’t regret your decision at all. Some of your friends had raised an eyebrow at you rooming up with a guy, but you trusted Jisung. You resembled each other in a few ways, but were different enough to keep the other on their toes. He was honest, hardworking, but also funny and open-minded. He bought your favorite snacks at the grocery store. He listened to you talk about your difficulties with building your thesis statements. He read your essay drafts and made useful feedback. He made fantastic homemade pizza. He was the best at impressions. He liked to braid your hair. Once he even restacked the pads when you were running low - that day you almost fell in love with him.

Almost.

You just had a stupid crush. Who wouldn’t? Jisung was not only kind and attentive, he was also incredibly handsome. Wavy dark hair that shone in the sun. A heart shaped smile that grew so big it swallowed your entire soul. Golden skin that was soft to the touch - you knew from applying a mask on him once. Wide shoulders, a lean and athletic body. You saw him do push ups in his room sometimes, or using the stationary bike you had in the living room. He wiped the sweat off his brow and gave you a smile, nodding his head to the beat of whatever song played in his headphones.

But Jisung was your friend, first and foremost. Right now, and up until your exams, he was also your ally, your lifeline. You remember, a few weeks back, when you both sat down in front of a bowl of soup and intertwined your pinkies.

We get through this together, you said.

Together, he repeated, his eyes deeply set in yours.

Now he smiled gently at you, his mouth a thin line, his eyes wide open but red and glassy from exhaustion.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I can cook something, if you want.”

“That’s ok, I got you,” he smiles. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll get you when it’s ready.”

You feel something tug at your heartstrings. “Thanks, Ji.”

With the sweetest smile, he gives you a little nod and disappears, carefully closing the door behind him. You breathe out in the silence, glancing back at your books. You could study a little while Jisung gets the food ready, but you are tempted to listen to him and lie down. A few minutes with your eyes closed couldn’t hurt.

You drag your feet to your bed, which is luckily not very far, and make the mistake of going under the covers. Your sheets are soft, your comforter heavy. The dim light in your room and the muffled noises of Jisung getting busy in the kitchen are so soothing you slip away quickly.

You wake up to a hand gently stirring you - you sit up in a jolt, blinking confusingly.

“Shit, what time is it?”

It feels like it’s been seconds and years. It’s definitely darker now, and your eyes are puffy with sleep, your skin a little tingly. You recognize Jisung’s silhouette in the darkness as he chuckles.

“I’m sorry to wake you up,” he whispers. “But you need to eat. Then you can go back to sleep, yeah?”

“R-right. Yeah. Okay.”

You throw open the covers and get out of bed, not even thinking about the fact that your hair must be a complete mess and your cheeks puffy with sleep. Jisung has seen you in worse states, anyway. You grab a hoodie as you follow him out of your room, one of your socks half slipped out from your foot.

“It smells really good, Ji,” you comment as you head to the kitchen.

He turns his head back to you with a smile. He’s wearing a red crewneck, gray sweatpants, and his slippers. You haven’t seen him out of such outfits recently, except for a few nights when he got dressed to go somewhere, but even then his style is always baggy. It’s for this reason you will never forget the one time he got dressed up for a date and wore a tighter shirt. That and the number of times you’ve seen him shirtless, of course. But that’s a whole other issue.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he says, gesturing to you to sit down at the kitchen island.

There is an actual table in the dining area, more than large enough for the both of you, but you rarely sit down there to eat. It usually serves as a storage area for random things like folded laundry, groceries, board games or books. Both of you prefer the kitchen island, perching atop the stools that you can twirl to your liking. Half the time you eat there, the other in the living room in front of the television.

Catching the sight of your hair in the kitchen window, you pull your hoodie on the top of your head and look down at the plate Jisung places in front of you. It is nothing fancy - pasta with creamy sauce, with chopped green onions sitting on top of it, but it smells absolutely delicious and makes your stomach growl.

“I think I’m drooling,” you state, glancing up at him. “I am so hungry, fuck.”

Jisung laughs, sitting down next to you with his own plate. “Parmesan?”

“Yes, please.”

He sprinkles some on your plate, and then on his, before you both start to eat in silence. There’s music playing on the speaker, a song you don’t recognize, and you ask Jisung about it. He tells you about this new band he’s discovered, and you quietly talk as you devour your plates. The sauce, smooth and peppery, is making your taste buds dance, and the food gives you a lot of energy. As you eat, the conversation gets more lively, and you suggest making coffee for dessert. Jisung agrees, and after you insist on doing the dishes first, he says he’ll wait for you in the living room. You hear the familiar song of a game he likes to play and get started on the dishes. As you put down the clean dishes in the drying rack, you sigh.

A nap. Homemade food. Jisung’s smile. All of these things reassure you, and make you feel peaceful - so why is there such a tight knot at the bottom of your stomach? Why can’t it go away, even for just a few hours?

You should study again after this.

Drink your coffee with your nose in your books.

You’re wasting valuable time.

You shut your eyes tight, taking a deep breath as you dry your hands.

When you sit down on the couch next to Jisung, near the edge of the cushion, not getting too comfortable, you put down his mug of coffee on the table and keep yours in your hands. He shoots you a quick glance.

“Thanks.”

You just smile back, a feeble attempt for one, but Jisung catches it. He glances back one more time, frowns. You wish you weren’t that easy to read. You wish you could take a deep breath and smile and he would believe it when you said you were fine. But you’ve never been very good at that.

Still, Jisung says nothing. He pauses his game, turns the spoon in his coffee mug to mix in the milk. You just stare at yours, the black coffee almost staring back.

“I should…” You hesitate for a second, then shake your head. “Yeah, I should get back to it.”

You stand up quickly, hoping to be able to run away before Jisung says anything, but you feel his fingers close around your hand. You look down at him in surprise. He looks at you with wide eyes, looking confused and maybe even slightly annoyed.

“Right now?” he says. “I thought you’d get some rest.”

“I did,” you shrug, nibbling on your lower lip. “There’s too much to do, and…”

“Y/N,” he stops you, shaking his head. “You need to take a break. We need to take a break.”

You part your lips to retaliate, but Jisung removes his hand from yours and pats the couch.

“Sit down, please.”

His voice is low, a little rusty. You swallow, your mouth dry. If only your chest didn’t feel so empty, your heart would be pounding in your chest.

“I know you’re anxious,” he tells you softly, playing nervously with his fingers. “I am, too. But aren’t you getting tired of, like… just stressing out?”

You chuckle a little bitterly, looking at Jisung. The light of the television reflects on his skin, mixed with the orange glow of the lamp. The circles under his eyes are dark. His lips are chapped. His nose is still a little red from the cold he had last week. You feel a pang of longing.

“Of course I am,” you sigh. “But we just have to get through it, right? We just need to make it there.”

He nods. “I know, but I’m scared of what we’re losing in the process. It can’t be healthy to just study all the time like we do.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

He shrugs, leaning back into the couch. His hoodie skirts up his stomach a little as he stretches his arms. You catch a glimpse of skin, of an abdominal muscle. It almost makes your brain glitch.

“I don’t know,” he breathes. “A distraction? Just for one night.”

When he sees your hesitation, Jisung quickly continues.

“I don’t mean dressing up and going outside and being social. Just the two of us, I mean. We can watch a movie, play games… get high.”

That makes you smile. “We don’t have any more weed since the cookie disaster.”

“Fuck, that’s right,” he laughs. “But it doesn’t matter. We just need to clear our heads, y’know? Think about something else. Be in denial about the exams. Like they’re not even going to happen.”

You take a deep breath, still hesitant. Your heart desperately wants to say yes, but your brain is holding back. The voice in your head, telling you you shouldn’t. You don’t want it to whisper your guilt back to you all night.

“Please, Y/N,” Jisung suddenly adds. There’s something in his voice that catches your attention. Sadness. Despair. “I don’t want to do it without you. We said we’d go through this together, right?”

You shake your head, staring down at the pinkie finger he is now holding up between you. He’s playing with your heartstrings and he knows it, but you don’t blame him. It’s working too well. There’s not much you would refuse him, anyway - but you don’t tell him that. Instead you smile and wrap your pinkie around his.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Let’s be in denial together.”

Jisung grins and you laugh, hitting his arm.

“It’s not fair that you used the wounded puppy eyes, by the way.”

“I would never,” Jisung says, shaking his head.

You take a careful sip of coffee, which is still a little too hot, but the warmth feels nice in your throat. Jisung grabs the second controller and presents it to you.

“You want to join?”

Although you are not very good at this game you agree, because you figure it will be a good way to start off the evening. As you pound on the buttons and try not to get Jisung killed in the game, you feel your shoulders relax. It doesn’t make the knot go away, but you do get a little giddy at the idea of not returning to your books tonight. That - and the perspective of spending the next hours with Jisung makes you a little more happy than it should. You already spend a lot of time together, so why would this evening be different? But it still feels like it.

Once the coffees are empty and the campaign is over, you and Jisung settle on a movie you both wanted to see for a while. You settle on opposite sides of the couch as you usually do, but you end up stretching your legs so much your feet rest against Jisung’s legs, and he doesn’t complain. He even puts a warm hand on your ankle at some point, distracting you a little from the movie.

The movie ends too quickly, and you end up in the kitchen cleaning the mugs and staring at each other.

“What now?” you chuckle. “It’s still early. Unless you want to go to bed…”

“No way,” he replies. “I want to make this last as much as possible.”

He is looking at you as he says that, his hair sticking out behind his head because of the way he was slumped on the couch for the duration of the movie, and your heartbeat accelerates. You feel a hotness on the back of your neck and you rub it with your hand.

“Then maybe we can… Take a walk? It’s not raining or anything.”

“Snack run? Then we can find something else to watch.”

“Sounds good.”

You don’t bother getting changed because it’s dark outside and the grocery store is just around the corner. Besides, you live in a neighborhood that is mostly composed of other students, so two people in sweatpants and hoodies isn’t uncommon at all. After getting plenty of snacks, you head back towards your shared apartment, talking in calm voices. The streets are not too busy, and it’s only slightly chilly. You glance up at the sky, walking slowly, your hand brushing Jisung’s.

At one point, you realize you are only talking about school and your exams, so Jisung shakes his head.

“We are so bad at this whole ‘think about something else’ thing,” he laughs.

You sigh. “We really are. God, this is hard.”

“We need to find a really good distraction. Something that would really, really disconnect our brains, like…”

He stops and you look at him with a frown. “Like what?”

“I dunno,” he answers a little too quickly. “We have to find something, is what I’m saying.”

“Yeah,” you agree in a whisper, glancing back at him curiously.

You could swear he is blushing.

“How about drinking?” he offers. “Not too much so we don’t get headaches, but a little. Being tipsy can maybe help us get inspiration.”

“I like the idea,” you smile.

Once you are back inside your apartment, your sneakers exchanged for slippers, you grab a bottle of soju from the fridge and fill two glasses. You and Jisung sit on the floor, backs leaning against the couch, and clink your glasses together. Jisung chooses a random movie on Netflix, and you watch it for a few minutes, unable to concentrate on it. After you’ve taken a few sips, you let out a sigh.

“You know what would be easier? If we weren’t single.”

Jisung arches an eyebrow.

“I mean, we could just call them,” you explain. “Get laid. Get a massage. Make out for hours. That would be really good distraction.”

“It would,” Jisung laughs. “Don’t you have someone you could call?”

“Like a fuck buddy?” you say. “Jisung, you seem to forget how excruciatingly single and bad at flirting I am.”

“You can’t be worse than me,” he smiles, taking another sip from his glass. “Last time I tried to get laid I got stood up.”

“She was a bitch,” you point out.

Jisung shakes his head. “I thought personality doesn’t matter when it comes to hooking up.”

“That’s not exactly true.”

“Like you’re such a pro at this, huh?”

You gasp at Jisung’s jab, shoving him with your elbow. “That was so mean!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, holding his palms up. “I mean, if a massage would do it for you, I can try.”

You scrunch your nose. “Nah, thank you. I’m actually not much of a massage person.”

“How can you not be a massage person?!”

You keep talking and laughing, watching the movie sometimes, and for a while, you think that you’ve actually succeeded at clearing your heads. You feel lighter, distracted. The alcohol and Jisung’s laugh help a lot. But eventually you breathe out and realize that the knot is still there. Insistent. It almost feels like it’s getting bigger. Beside you, you can feel that Jisung is the same. His shoulders are tense, and his eyes, while fixated on the screen, are not seeing anything. You’re a little tipsy so you grab the controller and press pause.

“Ji, this isn’t working.”

He turns towards you, looking sheepish. “I know. I’m sorry…”

“We need something more drastic.”

He gives you a little nod, and you squint.

“What was the idea you had earlier?”

His head shoots up and you can see panic in his eyes. “What? What idea?”

“Don’t lie to me,” you tell him. “I know your idea face. You thought of something back there, when we were walking back.”

And there it is - Jisung blushes again, shaking his head vehemently. “Oh. Oh, no. It wasn’t… It’s stupid. It’s not - I just mean it’s… No.”

You turn your body completely towards his, drawing your knees against your chest. “Ji, come on. Tell me. I’m not going to judge.”

He gives you a timid look, and empties his soju glass before he clears his throat. You do not know why, but your heart is pounding in your chest.

Jisung breathes deeply.

“I was just thinking, that when I need a distraction, like… When I really want to think about something else, I…”

“Yes?” you encourage him.

“I jerk off.”

You stare back at him in shock. You should’ve expected this. You were an idiot not to catch it earlier on. It was a logical answer - and something you’ve tried yourself numerous times in the past couple of days. Slipping your fingers in your underwear, stimulating yourself. Watching porn. But when you did succeed at your orgasms, they always felt underwhelming. They never left you feeling appeased, just even more tense.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

“I told you it was stupid! I shouldn’t have -”

“It’s not stupid,” you shrug, and it’s your turn to empty your glass.

You’re not drunk. You’re just a little tipsy. It’s not barely enough to have this kind of conversation with your roommate - one you have a huge crush on - but it will have to do. You want Jisung to feel comfortable with you. And it’s nothing to be embarrassed of, right? That’s what people always say. So why is talking about it so hard, why is your heart pounding, why is the thought of Jisung jerking off turning you on so goddamn much?

Jisung blinks at you. “It’s not?”

“Of course not,” you smile a little nervously. “I… I do it too, when I want to relax.”

He visibly gulps, but you take it as embarrassment.

“Don’t we all?” you add, a little nervously.

He nods quickly, maybe a little too enthusiastically. Your cheeks are hot, horribly hot. You need some air. You need another drink. Ten, even.

“I mean, if you want some time alone…”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Jisung says. “I just, I mean, you know my friend Minho?”

You nod. “Yeah, why?”

“He told me about one time, he and his friend, I mean they were dating so it’s not the same, but they - hm, they… They watched porn together.”

It feels like you can barely breathe. Did it suddenly get very warm in your living room? Because your skin feels like it’s on fire and neither you or Jisung can look at each other directly.

“People really do that?” you say in a weak voice.

“Apparently,” Jisung chuckles nervously. “He said it was really fun, so… Yeah, I don’t know why I thought about that.”

There’s a short silence as you try to make sense of what Jisung is telling you. Is he just telling an anecdote, or is he asking for something? If you agree, will he think you’re crazy or weird? Maybe he’s just sharing. You decide there’s not much to lose. If you are misunderstanding, you can just laugh and pretend you’re joking.

Your voice is gentle, not very assumed. “You… you want us to watch porn together?”

Jisung shoots you a very panicked look and for a second you think you’ve just made a huge fool of yourself. But he opens his mouth and stammers out a yes.

“C-could be fun, I guess?” he adds.

You breathe out, your heart beating so fast you are sure Jisung can hear it. Surely, he can hear it. How terrified you are terrified at the prospect of watching porn with him. How much you never would’ve thought this could happen. How much you want to do it now.

“We really don’t have to, it’s just a stupid idea, and -”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Jisung looks at you. “R-really?”

“Sure, why not,” you say more decisively, giving him a tight nod. “We can comment on it and everything. Could be fun. I mean, it’s just porn, right? We watch it all the time.”

You realize your mistake too late, your smile faltering on your lips.

“I - I mean, I do, not all the time, but sometimes, like all people do, and…”

“You heard me that time, didn't you?” Jisung sighs, slamming his palm against his forehead.

You can’t hold back a smile this time - a genuine one. Jisung groans as you bite your lip, trying to hold back your laughter.

“Just say it,” he sighs.

“I heard you that time.”

Jisung’s head drops forward in his hands and you chuckle, your shoulders shaking.

“It’s okay, Ji, it’s not -”

“The ONE time!” he cries out, looking up at you. You love the smile on his face, both embarrassed and amused, horrified and shy. “The one time I forget to plug in my headphones… I realized too late…”

“It’s fine,” you repeat, not thinking, and place a hand on his thigh to squeeze it briefly. “It’s just porn, Ji. And I know you’re into hentai, so don’t be ashamed, please. I like it too.”

Jisung looks at you like his brain is short-circuiting. “You - what - how do you know that?”

“I was in the room with you and Minho that time you talked about it, remember?” You smile. “Also, it’s the second time his name comes up in our conversation about porn, this is getting weird.”

Jisung shrugs. “Eh, the man is shameless. But you’re right, I remember now. God, that is embarrassing.”

“It isn’t,” you smile, twirling your empty glass in your hand. You don’t want to drink anymore - this is already too much adrenaline for you. “I just confessed I’m into it, too. Do you think that’s weird?”

“Not at all. I think that’s… hot.”

You smile, feeling your cheeks burn, but you do not know what to answer. Instead, you fill your lungs with air and gather your courage.

Jisung is observing his nails very carefully.

“So, shall we?” you say, trying to sound confident.

Jisung glances up at you, searching your eyes for an instant. You guess he must be looking for hesitation, or trying to figure out if you really want this or are doing it just to please him, so you just smile calmly, although you’re unable to hold back your nervousness.

“Let’s do it,” he answers with a sharp nod.

For good measure, you each pour yourself another drink, and Jisung gets his laptop to plug it so the browser is projected on the television. You wrap your arms around your legs, looking up nervously at the screen. Jisung’s fingers hover over the keyboard.

“S-so, is there a website you like?” he asks.

“Hm,” you answer, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really. You can go to the one you usually go to. If you’re okay with that.”

“Sure,” Jisung breathes.

It takes him a few more seconds but he eventually types in a website and you let out a giggle as the welcome page pops up on the screen.

“What?”

“It’s just - it’s also the one I use,” you admit, and Jisung grins.

“Really? I like this one because of the categories. They’re a little unusual but so much fun for discovering new stuff.”

“And the mobile site is so well made,” you add with enthusiasm. “Not like other websites which are impossible to navigate on your phone…”

“Ugh, tell me about it.”

You laugh, relieved that this is already easier than you thought it would be. Of course, you haven’t actually put on any porn yet, but at least you are learning to speak of it more or less comfortably.

A short silence follows as Jisung scrolls up and down the page, and you glance at the thumbnails. Schoolgirls. Medieval fantasy. Monsters. After a minute, Jisung lets out a sigh.

“I guess we just have to choose one,” he says.

You bite your lip. “Type in Labyrinth in the search bar.”

Jisung looks at you, but he still does it. You point out the thumbnail you recognize, feeling almost dizzy.

“I like this one,” you say in a very soft voice. “The story’s actually really good.”

“O-okay.”

Taking a sharp breath, Jisung clicks on the link and the video opens up. He puts it on full screen, and it feels different to watch it on the television. You roll your arms around yourself, feeling terribly shy, and Jisung sits on the couch next to you - at a reasonable distance, of course. You clink your glasses together and take a sip of soju.

It’s not so bad at first. There’s an actual story to this video that you enjoy, but you know it doesn’t last that long. You are terrified of what Jisung might say, that he might laugh at you, but you try your best not to overthink everything. As the sex scenes are coming closer, you realize you have not yet exchanged a word and there is still the embarrassing issue of actually getting turned on. You really haven’t thought this through, you think to yourself as the characters start to undress each other.

Oh, God.

Kisses. Fondling. The wet sounds of the guy’s fingers slipping into the girl’s dripping folds. You breathe in slowly - but there’s a reason you love this video. It really pushes your buttons, so you can’t help but feel your walls clench around nothing. You should think about something else. You can’t focus too much on this. But you’re already getting wet and your eyes can’t leave the screen because if they do, they’ll inevitably fall on Jisung.

Your friend. Your roommate. Your crush. Who is sitting next to you, watching your favorite porn video with you. Oh, God.

On the screen, the guy buries his head in between her legs. Licks her wetness as she moans his name. The images are one thing - the sounds are another.

You’re burning up, pushing your thighs together, trying to stay discreet.

As the girl’s pleasure builds, the subtitles translate her moans for you. Wanted this for so long, your tongue feels so good buried in me. That’s when you feel Jisung move beside you. Your eyes are instinctively drawn to him, and you catch a glimpse of his parted mouth, his red cheeks, his hazy eyes.

He has his legs propped up against him. You wonder if he’s as turned on as you. Maybe not. Maybe this isn’t doing it for him.

You focus back on the screen as the girl comes, squirting around the guy’s face. He chuckles, and asks her to suck his cock. She bends down to do it, and Jisung breathes out sharply.

“The- the animation’s really good,” he says weakly, and you are quick to nod.

“Yeah, right? The movements are really smooth,” you comment.

Jisung smiles nervously. “Yeah. I - I like it.”

You want to keep talking, but you don’t know what to say. The questions that burn the tip of your tongue cannot be asked, not really, not right now. You and Jisung are friends who watch porn together. You are not involved. You are not dating. This is just a distraction.

But now you are horny as fuck and getting tense. You need to relieve the pressure between your legs or you will go crazy. You can already feel your mind buzzing.

The girl is giving the guy a sloppy blowjob. He is groaning loudly, which is something you like about this video, and she hums in pleasure.

“The voice acting isn’t that bad, right?” you say. “I like it when we can hear the guy, too.”

“You do?” Jisung asks. “I thought girls didn’t like hearing us.”

“Oh my God, it’s literally the opposite,” you chuckle. “Hearing the guys groan and moan is the hottest thing ever.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Ji. Be as vocal as possible, I promise it’s going to make them come quicker.” You shrug. “I mean, I can’t speak for everyone. But it would do it for me.”

Jisung nods, and you both turn back to the screen just in time for the guy plunging his cock deep inside his partner, making her gasp in pleasure. The squelching noises are turned up, and she is visibly dripping all around him, precum and juices staining the sheets of the bed.

Yes, fuck me deep, your cock is so big, oh my god!

You close your eyes, shifting your hips in a desperate attempt to rub yourself against something, but there’s nothing to do - your cunt is just throbbing, and you can feel your slick drenching your underwear. You’re so hot, you want to remove your hoodie, but you also can’t move.

You lose track of time a little when Jisung’s voice reaches your ears.

“S-sorry,” he says in a breathy voice. “I can’t help it.”

You glance at him and notice he has stretched his legs. His gray sweatpants hide absolutely nothing of his erection and you stare at the outline of his cock, hard and thick. You could moan out loud at the mere sight, but by miracle you are able to hold it in. You had noticed Jisung was, let’s say, well equipped, but you did not expect this.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s fine,” you whisper, shaking your head, finally looking up at him. “I’m really wet, too.”

Jisung’s cock twitches under his pants and he closes his eyes sharply. “Fuck, don’t tell me that.”

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the porn on the television, your own arousal, your repressed crush for Jisung or the sight of his stiff cock, but you’re unable to think straight and the words come out of your mouth unprovoked.

“Ji, do you… do you want some help?”

The thought that you could actually touch him makes your mouth water. You’ve thought about it before, wrapping your hands around him. Closing your lips around his length. Licking him clean. Maybe it’s not as impossible as you thought. Maybe you aren’t that foolish to think it could happen.

Jisung stammers for a few seconds because he gulps. “A-are you really asking?”

You nod faintly. “I can jerk you off.”

He stares at you, mouth open. “I mean - If - if- if you’d like it.” He seems to catch himself, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You don’t have to, Y/N, it’s…”

“I don’t mind,” you answer. “I - I’d like it, but only if you want to.”

“R-right. Hm, okay. But only if you’re sure…”

You just shuffle closer to him, kneeling beside his body. His smell overwhelms you, so him, his cologne and his soap, soju and candy, and your hands are shaking as you reach for his pants. You hesitate, though, realizing what you are about to do. You’re scared he doesn’t really want this, you’re scared of what it will change, but before you can start to doubt too much, Jisung slides down his sweatpants and takes his cock out himself.

“H-here.”

He holds it up for you although he wouldn’t have to. He is so hard it looks painful, veins bulging, slightly curved, pre-cum glistening at the tip. You bite your lip, pressing your legs together, and you’re sitting so close to Jisung you feel his breath in your hair.

You reach out and wrap your fingers around his cock. It’s warm and pulsating, and Jisung lets out a whimper. You move your hand upwards and downwards, getting used to him, barely seeing the porn that is still ongoing on the screen. All you hear are moans and the wet sounds of fucking and kissing, and it helps you not think too much about what is happening, like it’s not real, like it’s part of the porn. Your fingers slide up to his tip, smearing the pre-cum over Jisung’s cock, and you jerk your hand a little faster.

Jisung lets out a choked moan and his forehead falls against the side of your head. His arm slides around your body, holding you close, the other resting on the couch, gripping the fabric.

“F-fuck, ah, ah, fuck,” he whispers in your ear, and the sound is like the sweetest music.

Is Jisung enjoying this? You giving him a handjob while watching porn? This can’t be real. This is the hottest thing you've ever done.

“Is that okay?” you ask him softly.

“F-feels p-perfect,” he grunts, bucking his hips against your hand. “Y/N…”

The sound of your name draws a shaky breath from your lips, and your other hand grabs his thigh, squeezing it a little. You try to remain steady, intoxicated by the sounds coming from the television, Jisung’s noises, his cock around your hand, him fucking your palm.

“I’m n-not going to last,” Jisung whimpers, and you slide up your other hand to cup his balls. That draws a loud grunt from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N!”

“Hold on,” you whisper, feeling drunker than if you had emptied a bottle of soju by yourself. “I want to suck you off.”

It might be your only chance. You want to make this moment last - so you have something to think about, the next time your roommate comes into your mind. The next time you dream about Jisung being yours. The next time you tell yourself there is no way he can like you back. You can at least let him go knowing he’s come once around your hands, around your lips.

“Y-you sure?”

You nod, shuffling back on the couch a little, bending forward so your lips come into contact with his cock. Jisung buries his fingers in your hair, pulling them together to keep them away from your face. You kiss his tip, your right hand still moving, your left holding his balls.

“Holy fuck, Y/N… This feels incredible… I’m not…”

“Just let go, Ji,” you whisper, perhaps a little too tenderly.

You wrap your mouth around his cock, taking him in. You glance up to see his eyes roll back. You’re pretty sure the sex scene is over on the screen, because people are talking, but neither of you are paying any attention. You bob your head, licking every inch of him, and Jisung thrusts his hips slowly, fucking your mouth gently.

“I’m gonna blow, fuck, please, ah - ah, FUCK -”

He comes quickly and suddenly, his cum filling your mouth, salty and warm. His cock keeps throbbing between your lips, and Jisung is breathing heavily, his fingers still resting in your hair, all tangled. You take the time to lick him clean, gently, carefully.

When you sit up, his hand slides down your arm to your leg, and you look at him. He’s not moving, head thrown back, his hair over his slightly sweaty face, his clothes in disarray.

This is a sight you’ll never forget.

A taste you’ll never forget.

You feel something tighten in your chest.

You’ve fallen so hard for him.

“Y/N…” he breathes after a few seconds, raising his head to look at you.

His hands reach for you, and you let him. His hand grazes your cheek, the other gripping your own. You slide your fingers in between his, feeling a little shy.

“That was unreal,” he breathes, leaning in towards you.

He doesn’t kiss you, neither does he hug you - he just presses his body against yours, pressing his lips against your hair. It’s such a tender gesture you feel your heart swell in your chest and you ache for touch. You don’t expect anything. You want to run away to touch yourself, to fuck yourself thinking of him, but you don’t want to leave his warmth.

“Come here,” he whispers. “It’s your turn.”

Your heart skips a beat. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to, but he’s already wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer. You end up on his lap, and instinctively you guide your legs so you straddle one of his legs, your core flush on his thigh.

The pressure, despite the layers of clothing, draws a moan from between your lips and you dig your fingers in his skin.

“Jisung…”

“Does that feel good?” he asks in a whisper.

When you nod, Jisung raises his thigh a little, applying more pressure on your cunt, and the wave of pleasure makes you arch your back and grind against him.

“Don’t hold back,” he breathes as you start to roll your hips. “Like you told me. Just let go.”

He places a hand on the small of your back, accompanying you in your movements. He breathes in your neck, warming up and tickling your skin, your cunt clenching tighter and tighter. His thigh is tense, pressing against all the right places, and you can’t stop moaning.

You push yourself up a little, pressing a hand against his chest, and you want to get rid of all those clothes, and feel him under your skin, but you can’t stop moving, and you are so close to coming.

Jisung is breathing hard against you, pushing his leg upwards, his hands massaging your waist, helping you move as you ride his thigh. “That’s it, baby…”

The nickname alone almost ends you.

He kisses your collarbone and you think you might explode. “You sound so good. I’m so fucking obsessed with you,” he says.

The words take your breath away. You shudder, your fingers squeezing his as you roll your hips a little slower. “You - what?”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you. “Baby, please, can I make you cum?”

You just nod, his words echoing in your mind, unable to be truly grasped as your orgasm builds up. His hand slides down your pants and he pushes his fingers under your panties, pressing them against your wetness. You let out a moan at the direct contact, feeling your body jolt.

“You’re so wet,” Jisung groans in your ear.

You can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re already so close to your climax that when Jisung starts to circle your clit, pushing his fingers in between your folds, it only takes a few seconds for you to come undone, breathing out his name. It feels like a tidal wave, like a power surge, like everything you have dreamed of. You feel him smile, his fingers teasing you until you have to grab his wrist and pull them away.

“S-sensitive,” you chuckle, unable to open your eyes, feeling drained.

He nods with a soft laugh. You can feel against your leg that he’s hard again, but he doesn’t do anything. He just looks at you as you try to steady your breathing, your legs trembling. You don’t want to move - he is so warm next to you. But eventually, you realize the position you are in, and so you slide off him. Jisung helps you, his hands guiding you back on the couch beside him.

You feel breathless, like you’ve just ran a marathon. Once your eyes are able to focus, you stare at the screen without really seeing it. You try to grasp what has just happened. You wonder what’s next. You are afraid.

“Y/N…”

Jisung’s voice reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. What now? Can you stay roommates? Can you even stay friends? Your heartbeat accelerates and you sit up on the couch, suddenly feeling antsy.

“I - I should… I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Y/N, wait -”

You know it’s unfair, but you ignore him and quickly walk away. You close the bathroom door, breathing out. And then the oddest thing happens.

You smile.

You giggle in surprise, putting your fingers to your lips. Fuck, you can’t stop smiling. You should be nervous, you should be terrified. But none of those feelings are lasting - you are only smiling like an idiot. Jisung’s words resonate in your head. I’m so fucking obsessed with you.

Sometimes things need to change. Sometimes they should. Sometimes they are meant to.

When you open the bathroom door again, Jisung is waiting for you on the other side. His big eyes are filled with worry, pleading, and fear.

“Y/N, please, listen -”

You don’t think. You just kiss him.

Jisung does not move at first, and when you take a step back, your cheeks burning up, he stares at you with shock.

“What are you -”

“I like you,” you blutter out. “I like you a lot.”

It takes another second, but Jisung’s lips curve into a smile. His eyes do not leave yours, but the light in them changes. Soon his heart-shaped grin makes your heart swell in your chest, and he’s picking you up in his arms and kissing you again.

You push him gently against the wall. “Please touch me again.”

You guide his hands on your waist, and he breathes hard in your mouth.

“I like you so much,” Jisung says, and his lips brush against your ear, making you breathe out. “I have such a massive crush on you. Never let myself act on it… I was too scared, you know.”

“I know,” you whisper back. “Me too.”

“I like everything about you,” he whispers. “Your laugh. Your passion. Your smell. Your skin… Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. You don’t have any idea how beautiful you are. How fucking sexy.”

You part your mouth wider, and he pushes his tongue against yours, playing with it, his teeth teasing your lips. His hard cock is pressing against you, making you crave him again, and you want to feel him inside of you, so deep you can never be separated again.

“Can I take you back to my room?” he asks in between two kisses. “I want to fuck you in my bed.”

You feel yourself throbbing and you can’t hold back a moan as you nod.

It happens fast - Jisung takes your hand and guides you to his room. You’re pretty sure the porn is still playing on the television back in the living room, but who cares? You only have eyes for Jisung.

You know his room so well. The smells, the colors. The desk, the blankets, the clothes. The stickers on the window. Yet it all looks different as you step inside holding Jisung’s hand. He draws you close, bringing you back into a kiss. You collapse against him, letting him guide you to his bed.

He lifts you like you’re a feather, laying you down, his body above yours. Jisung is quick to cover your neck with kisses, his wet lips smearing saliva on your skin. He removes your hoodie, palms your breasts, who are only covered by a tank top.

“Fuck, those tits…”

You can hardly breathe, loving each of his caresses. The sheets smell so much like him it’s almost overwhelming. After removing the rest of your clothes, he spends a long time kissing and licking your breasts, playing with your nipples, drawing hisses and moans from your lips. After a while you whimper in protest, because your walls are begging for him.

“Ji, please…”

His mouth breaks into a grin, and he comes back to push his lips against yours. He kisses you surprisingly tenderly, and you moan against his mouth, because this feels so right, so true. His fingers stroke your hair, your cheek, and your hands travel down his back and then upwards, lifting his crewneck. He removes it, and you arch your back against him, your nipples pressed against his chest, his lips ardently seeking yours.

Soon he is naked too, and as he keeps kissing you, his cock teases your wetness. From his shuddered breathing, you know he can’t wait much longer, and you squeeze his arm, hoping he understands your signal. It seems like he does, because he sits up a little, leaning towards his bedside table to open a drawer. He fumbles inside of it, muttering nonsense, until he finally pulls out a condom. You giggle and Jisung laughs with you, and you feel warmer than you ever have.

Once Jisung has safely put on the condom, he guides his cock against your entrance and glances at you.

“Can I - I mean - You sure?”

“Yes,” you nod.

You wish you could look at his length disappearing inside of you, just because you’ve desired it so much, but once Jisung enters you, your head falls back on the pillow. He goes slow, leaving you time to adjust, stopping when you breathe a little more sharply. It takes a minute, but eventually he fills you up, and you wrap your arms around him, breathing out.

“Are you okay?”

You nod. “Sorry. It’s just been a while.”

“There’s no rush,” he tells you softly. “We can go slow.”

You smile, pulling him into a kiss.

“Just tell me if it’s too much,” he breathes in your ear.

He starts to move, thrusting his hips carefully. Your body recovers quickly, though, and soon you can shift your hips alongside his, easing his movements. He fucks you gently and deeply, sending shivers up your spine, and you’ve certain you’ve never had sex like this. You breathe together, move together, moan together.

You take your time, your orgasm rising slowly and surely. You dig your fingers in his skin, shudder when you hear him grunt. You shift positions after some time, so that your legs can be wrapped more easily around his waist, and he’s so deep inside of you that you feel your walls throb with pleasure.

“J-just like that,” you whisper to him. “Fuck, I’m coming…”

“I can feel you,” he whimpers. “Come, baby, I’m so close too…”

You cry out in his neck, the sound slightly muffled, and Jisung follows you seconds afterwards. You feel every throb of his release. You’re still shivering as he looks down in panic.

“Fuck, I’m - I’m sorry, I didn’t pull out…”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “There’s the condom, and I take the pill…”

He still looks worried so you kiss him, feeling at peace. You are safe, you feel safe. Jisung eventually relaxes, and after throwing away the condom, he slumps on the bed beside you, snuggling his head in the crook of your neck. His fingers brush your cheek to put a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I want to make you cum every day,” he says gently. “With my fingers, my mouth, my cock.”

“Hmm,” you smile. “I like that idea.”

“Yeah?” he grins. “I want to sleep next to you. See your face in the morning, the sunshine against your cheeks… Your arms wrapped around me.”

With every sentence he places a kiss, making you sleepy and perfectly awake at the same time, your mind consumed by the images he draws.

“I want to keep cooking for you. Make you smile. Drive you to the dentist…”

“Jisung, you don’t have a car,” you laugh.

“I’ll get one. And I want to get rid of those fucking doors between us.”

“Jisung.”

You open your eyes, grab his face so he looks at you in the eyes.

“Will you kiss me?”

Jisung pushes your hair away from your face and does exactly that.

Some time later, you smile.

You have not drawn the curtain yet, so the moonlight penetrates the window, illuminating the room in soft blues. You graze your nose against Jisung’s chest, listening to him breathe. He’s slowly falling asleep beside you, the covers drawn over your naked bodies.

“Hey, you know what? It worked. I haven’t thought about studying all night,” you whisper to him.

You hear him chuckle. “Hm. I don’t even know what you’re referring to. My head is completely empty.”

“So is mine,” you say with a laugh, planting a kiss on his warm skin. “I can’t even remember what day of the week this is.”

“I can only think about you,” Jisung replies, stroking your hair. “I like you a lot.”

“Me too, Ji. Me too.”

I'm so sorry for not updating as much as I used to. I hurt my shoulder pretty bad and couldn't write for a while, and now my head won't let me.

Let me know if you enjoyed this! Thank you for all of your support and love. ♡

taglist: @ughbehavior ; @upallnight-s ; @changbinluvr ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan ; @lotus-dly ; @cb97percent ; @j-0ne25 ; @hwan-g ; @jhopesucker ; @leedunno ; @septicrebel ; @imtoooyoungforthisshit ; @sikebishes ; @sai-kida134 ; @sstarryoong ; @alexis-reads-fics ; @luvsskz ; @beautifulcolorgarden ; @sensitiveandhungry

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folkwhoredoll · 27 days

Text

soothing touch - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: after a tiresome week, your boyfriend knows just how to help

word count: 2.1k

warnings/tags: smut! (f oral, unprotected sex, nipple play), soft bf!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever say this enough but thank you for your support! however i might be inactive for the next days or weeks because easter break is over :< but i promise to keep writing whenever i can <3 i hope you'll like this one. happy reading!

masterlist

+*:ꔫ:*﹤

“Baby, come lay with me.” You heard your boyfriend whine from the bed.

“Just a few more minutes, Rafey. I need to finish this essay, or I’ll lose my train of thought.” You replied without looking at him, eyes steady between your laptop screen and keyboard.

Rafe groaned, growing impatient after hearing you use the same excuse for the third time.

It had been over two hours since he laid on the bed and over two hours that you refused to join him. The past weeks have made you busy, considering you were a graduating student. There were deadlines here and there, you have experienced sleepless nights for the past few days, and coffee is probably the only liquid cursing through your veins.

Rafe knew it was coming and made sure to help in any way possible, but it doesn’t mean he was okay with it. He missed taking you out on dates and golfing sessions, but it has been almost a month since he was able to do so.

He came to your house a few hours ago and brought you snacks you felt incredibly grateful for. You welcomed and greeted him, then returned to your room to sit in front of your laptop.

“I’m sorry, babe. I promise I’ll just finish this essay, and then we can cuddle, okay?” You offered to him softly, feeling bad that you’d ignored him.

Rafe, who has a stern exterior towards other people, is always soft towards you. His eyes softened upon hearing your offer, wanting nothing more than for you two to spend the night together.

“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

You flashed him a smile, your fingers desperately working to finish your essay.

Around half an hour later, you were typing out the last sentence for your draft. You inhaled deeply and stretched your back before shutting down the computer, deciding that you would just do your revisions in the morning.

“Finally.” You heard Rafe’s voice, making you chuckle, and excitedly made your way to the bed where your boyfriend was adorably tucked in the covers. “Hi, baby.”

You crawled in his arms, feeling extremely relaxed now that you were out of your stiff chair. “Hi, Rafey.”

“What do you want to do now?” He asked you sweetly, letting you decide depending on how you were feeling.

You thought momentarily, looking at the time and realizing it was almost midnight. Yet, surprisingly, you didn’t feel an ounce of sleepiness.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I’m not sleepy yet. You?”

“Nah. I’m not sleepy, too.” Rafe shook his head before an idea popped into his mind. “You want me to give you a massage?”

Without hesitation, you agreed, nodding your head quickly. “Yes, please. My back hurts so much.”

Rafe gave you a pitied look. “Aw, baby. I got you; go get ready.”

You positioned yourself on the bed, grabbing a pillow where you can rest your head on. You sat up for a while to remove the thin sweater that hugged your torso. Your bra followed after you skillfully removed the clasps on your back. The amount of times that Rafe had seen you naked has made you shameless in making such gestures in front of him.

Meanwhile, Rafe watched your actions as he positioned himself behind you, hungrily eyeing your bare back before reminding himself that he was supposed to help you relax.

“Lay down on your stomach, pretty girl.” He spoke.

You did as he asked, sighing relief when your front side made contact with your sheets.

Knowing your room like the back of his hand, Rafe grabbed a bottle of lavender oil from your bedside drawer. He squeezed out a small amount, only enough to cover your back. Once satisfied, he warmed up the oil by rubbing it between his palms before putting it on your skin.

You let out a soft moan at the contact; the minty feeling from the oil and the feeling of your boyfriend’s large hands on your back made you instantly relax.

Rafe continued to give you a massage until his hands were dry from the oil, giving your back continuous strokes while you were on the verge of sleeping.

Little do you know, your breathy sighs have awakened something in Rafe.

He cleared his throat after several minutes, leaning down to check if you were sleeping. After seeing your opened eyes, Rafe relaxed and gave you a smile. “You feeling better?”

You mumbled a ‘yes,’ groaning as you slowly turned around on your back. “Thank you, Rafe.”

Rafe replied nothing, instead just lowering his face to yours in order to press a kiss on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, making Rafe go crazy. He wanted nothing more than to go further but hesitated as he thought of your tired body.

Unexpectedly, you were the one who deepened the kiss, your hands subtly moving up to his hair.

“Baby…” Rafe gasped, pulling away slightly. “Are you not tired?”

“Not really.” You said honestly as you looked into his eyes. “Feels good, Rafe. Please.”

Your words were confirmation for Rafe, making him press his lips back to yours. You let out a gasp when your boyfriend’s lips went from your mouth to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin softly.

“Hey, no marks.” You reminded him, remembering the time that your parents almost fainted when they saw Rafe’s love marks on your neck and chest.

“Yes, ma’am.” He cheekily smiled.

Rafe’s attention was suddenly on your breasts. He already had easy access to them after you removed your top. You moaned in surprise when his lips wrapped around your left nipple, your back arching as you tried to catch your breath.

“Rafe.” You heaved when his mouth attached to your other nipple, his fingers now working simultaneously as he toyed with the other one. When he was satisfied with the attention that he gave to your breasts, he straightened up his posture, and you took the opportunity to start removing his shirt.

You quickly get rid of his shirt, throwing it sideways as you focus on his shorts.

“Someone’s excited.” He chuckled.

“It’s been a while.” You pouted.

“I know, sweetheart. We have a lot of time.” Rafe replied softly. He pecked your lips once before crouching down. “Lift your hips slightly, baby. Let me take this off of you.”

You obeyed, pushing yourself up from the bed to allow Rafe to pull down your shorts and underwear. You took a deep breath at the realization that you were fully exposed but paid no attention when you caught Rafe eyeing your pussy while licking his lips.

“Well, what do we have here?” He smirked, his right-hand landing gently on your thigh.

“Rafe…” You whined lowly, feeling frustrated as his fingers teased you by drawing random circles along your skin.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He asked innocently.

You groaned. “Stop teasing me.”

He smirked. Rafe loves nothing more than seeing you surrender to his touches. And right now, he’s enjoying the growing smell and wetness of your arousal.

Removing his hand from your thigh, he pressed a finger against your clit. You jolted forward; the pressure alone is enough to stimulate pleasure to your core. “Fuck.”

Rafe’s finger gently circled your clit, both his cock and smile becoming more prominent at the sight of you. He surprised you by pressing two fingers in, his thumb taking over your clit. He began pumping, enjoying your moans mixed with the sound of your wet folds.

“Fucking hell, Rafe. More.” You demanded through deep breaths, your chest rising and falling.

He didn’t respond, pulling out his fingers after a few moments. Your brows pinched together in confusion, looking at him as he brought his fingers to his mouth.

“You taste amazing, darling.” He smirked and watched as you stared at his lips. After licking his two fingers clean, he lifted his hands and brought his thumb to your face. “Open.”

Without hesitation, you opened your mouth and took his thumb in. You sucked, tasting yourself and letting out a moan while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck.” Rafe spoke, feeling his cock straining. “I was planning to go soft on you. But you seem more eager than I do.”

After you’re done licking his finger, he pulls down his trousers and underwear. Despite seeing him naked multiple times, you still can’t help but be amazed at his size, your thoughts growing wild with desire.

You watched as Rafe kneeled before you, his eyes on the same level as your folds. He pulled you nearer to him, your lower half almost hanging off the edge of the table as he wrapped your legs around his shoulder.

“You gotta keep quiet, baby. We don’t want to get caught by your parents, do we?”

Without any warning, Rafe pressed his face to your pussy, his tongue expertly slipping inside and sucking on your clit.

“Fuck!” You moaned aloud, instantly forgetting his words as you pressed your weight against the bookshelf behind you.

He slapped your thigh softly. “What did I just say?”

You ignored him, too focused on the pleasure that you’re feeling to control the sounds from your mouth. You squirmed against his lips, grinding your hips upwards to get more. Your boyfriend smiled proudly.

“Yes, yes, Rafe…. Shit.”

He pulled one of his hands away from you, lowering it to pump his manhood. His occasional moans caused vibrations throughout your body, your toes curling and your eyes shutting.

Rafe felt your legs shake, and he started to pull away. He needed you to cum, but not yet.

“W-what?” You asked desperately, almost whining at the loss of contact.

He gently shushed you, pushing himself up and lining his cock directly at your slits. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll finish you right here.”

He pushed himself into you inch by inch, your warm folds wrapping around him perfectly. Rafe groaned at the damp and tight feeling surrounding him, head falling back in pleasure as he settled perfectly within you.

You moaned once more, loudly this time as he started thrusting, his rhythm steady yet forceful. You repeatedly called his name, hands gripping the sheets around you as you shook in pleasure. Rafe looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, eyes filled with lust and pride every time his hips meet yours. He grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs forward, almost keeping them against your chest.

“That’s right, darling. Moan my name.” Sweat started to form on his forehead, his thrusts becoming harsher and quicker in desperate need. “C’mon, Y/n. Let me see you cum.”

“Rafe…” You cried, your cunt clenching and throbbing. The bed was creaking slowly, and you could only hope that your parents were currently deep in slumber.

The pleasure was overwhelming as Rafe focused on every part of you as much as possible. Both of you panting and covered in sweat, his hands working wonders on your clit and nipple while he perfectly filled your cunt.

“R-Rafe, I’m…”

“I know, baby. Cum with me. Come on, pretty girl.” He whispered closely in your ear, maintaining the speed of his thrusts as he rubbed your clit faster.

Your heart rate was increasing, and your body was shaking. But it was Rafe’s direct eye contact and sudden pinch on your clit that pushed you over the edge, eyes rolling at the back of your head as you released.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Rafe moaned at the sight, loving the feeling of your tight walls and warm release around his cock.

It wasn’t long until he pumped several more times before he gave in, releasing his juices inside of you with heavy breaths.

Neither of you moved for a while, still breathless and shaking.

Rafe pulled out of you slowly, making you whine. He cooed at you, pressing kisses on both of your cheeks. “Are you feeling better, baby?”

Unable to form words because you were still catching your breath, you just grinned and nodded, your hand rising to cup and stroke his cheek.

“Let’s get you ready for bed now, sweetheart.”

The rest of the night, you didn’t break any sweat. Rafe took charge of changing your clothes and sheets, even giving you a quick bath to refresh you.

On times like these, you thank the heavens for giving you a boyfriend like Rafe Cameron.

#drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader smut

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awfcspencer · 3 months

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Hello! I was wondering if you could write a Leah Williamson fic where Leah and famous!reader have been dating for a long time and nobody knows. Basically, reader is seen attending a game and nobody knows why until a fan secretely takes a pic of them at a fancy dinner date (Leah in her SPOTY suit) thus breaking the internet. But Leah and reader only know about it after a night of fun (maybe smut) and make their couple debut.

Apologies for the long essay😅; love your works❤️

Secret’s Out || leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x famous!reader

prompt: requested

warnings: suggestive, a few swear words, mostly fluff

a/n: thank you for the request, hope this is what you were looking for, enjoy! Also thank you that is so sweet!

There was constant attention on your very private life. Tabloids and journalists were desperate to write a dramatic column about anything they assumed was ‘juicy’ or ‘interesting’. Simply just vying for views and money. It made you sick to your stomach. Being in the ‘bright light’, as some people call it, was certainly a privilege, it had blessed you with amazing opportunities and provided you with an income, but it can get tricky very quickly.

Especially when you were dating one of the most famous professional women’s footballers. A woman who captained England in the Woman’s Euros when they won on home soil and leads Arsenal’s defense. The face of women’s football one might say. But to you, she was just Leah. Leah who loved rom-coms films and always cried at the end, Leah who had the palette of a toddler even when you tried to convince her to eat something other than chicken nuggets and smilies. Leah who you were insanely in love with.

Both being very famous individuals in your own industries, it was important for the both of you to keep things just the two of you. As Taylor Swift once said, ‘Romance is not dead if you keep just yours.’ Your close friends and family knew as well as Leah’s teammates but the public was blissfully unaware. You and Leah were approaching two years and it was still a major secret, thankfully.

Things were obviously different in your relationship. You weren’t able to take Leah on the red carpet with you, boast all about your rockstar defender girlfriend on the pitch, or really even hypothetically stand too close before social media would run wild with different rumors. It was not only drama outlets, but also fans. It was easier to be single these days on social media because the fans can become very hurtful and rude when they realize their favorites are ‘off the market’. You didn’t want anyone sending Leah hate and she certainly didn’t want you on the receiving end. It was annoying at times, but you and Leah liked the privacy. You both would choose a night in, cuddled on the couch, watching a film over a loud smelly club or bar any day.

One thing that really hurt your heart with the situation you were in was not being able to outwardly root for Leah at her Arsenal or England games, in person. Sure you would always watch on any device you could when she was playing, but it wasn’t the same as being in person. A combination of busy, conflicting schedules and wanting to avoid any unnecessary extra drama that would certainly take away from the importance of the match always kept you away from the stadium.

You really wanted to attend one of Leah’s matches soon since she has made her return back from her ACL injury. You had seen the daily struggles of her 9 month journey and you knew how important it was for her to be back on the pitch, playing the sport she loves. So you decided to bring it up to her one day after dinner, wanting to hear her thoughts on the subject.

“Hey Lee what are the odds I come to the Emirates when you guys play Man United? My schedule is clear for the day.” you bite the bullet and ask her. In your relationship, communication had become incredibly important, especially when you would be away from each other for long portions of time, having to rely on Facetime and text messages. So it was always easy talking to Leah.

“I mean I would love to have you there baby, but what about the fans?” She moved from her spot on the kitchen island to standing behind you as you washed the dishes. Placing soft kisses on your neck as her hands found your hips.

It was a good point that you knew she was going to bring up. You had been so adamant on seeing Leah play that you almost kind of forgot about everything else. There would certainly be rumors thrown around like crazy, but rumors were really just rumors. There were new rumors about you or Leah almost every day, what was one more?

“I know, I know.” Thinking through everything she was saying. A small section of your mind thinking let the fans speculate, you want to support Leah, that was what is most important. “I want to be there.” Turning to face her with the most serious look you could muster up so she could tell you it was really important to you.

“Okay, you can sit with my family in the box. I can call my mom and let her know you will be there.” Leah knew the risk of you going, but inside she was beaming. You would be there to support her at a sold-out Emirates. You would be there, in person.

“Perfect. I need to find my McCabe kit to wear too!” you joke out knowing how to rile her up. Leah casually smacks your ass as you return to washing the dishes.

“Don’t even joke like that.” Her stern face not lasting long as she breaks into a smile and a laugh.

—————

In your perfectly disguised outfit, you make your way with Amanda toward your assigned seating area. The Emirates was loud and energetic, it was supposed to be a solid match. Two pretty matched teams with incredibly loyal fanbases.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Amanda says to you as you walk. You had met Amanda pretty early in your and Leah’s relationship and she was just as lovely as Leah. Amanda had quickly become a mother figure for you.

“Me too. I’m excited to watch Leah play live instead of on a tiny phone.” Your heart was pounding, eager to watch Leah play, even more eager to watch Leah win.

Only a few fans had noticed you were in attendance as they looked into the box, but with your large black puffer, hat, and Arsenal scarf on, they weren’t able to see the ‘Williamson 6’ kit you were wearing with pride.

The Arsenal started strong on offense, a quick goal by Viv put them up 1-0 and halftime ended with Beth finding the back of the net for a second. Leah had her stern demeanor on when she played, but when she looked into the box and saw you standing with her mother as you watched, she sent you a small wave and a soft smile.

At the halftime whistle, you were desperately hungry. Stepping out of the box as you searched for something to eat. You were met with a few more fans whom you sent smiles and took photos with. Whenever someone had asked why you were in attendance, you just told them you had grown up a major Arsenal fan. It wasn’t a complete lie but it was the easiest to tell. One fan had asked your favorite player and you jokingly told them that it is Alessia Russo. I mean who doesn’t love England’s star girl.

In the second half, Manchester United’s Geyse dribbled down the midfield and shot on goal and the ball quickly went passed Manu. Nearing the 80th minute, Ella Toone managed to find the left corner of the goal and it was now tied 2-2. The energy in the Emirates picked up dramatically.

To say you were amped up would be an understatement, jumping up and down for every forward ball sent down the pitch, hoping for the 3 points with another goal. You were cheering loud and proud for Arsenal, mostly for your defender girlfriend though.

You didn’t spend much time on social media, it was best for your mental health to steer clear of it most of the time. So when pictures of you at the Arsenal game started to go viral, you had no idea. Many people speculating why you were there and any other nonsense shipping of you and the players. Thankfully because of London’s bipolar temperatures, you still had your coat on, hiding the real reason you were here.

In extra time, Caitlin sent a dangerous ball to Viv and she scored. The Arsenal win 3-2. The crowd went wild with enthusiasm, as did you. You hugged Amanda and the rest of her family in the box as you bid them farewell’s and left.

Leah and you had already planned a small date after the match at a fancy restaurant just outside the city to escape prying eyes. So instead of greeting her at the end of the match like all the other girlfriends and family did, you quickly retreated to Leah’s car. Waiting for her to finish up her walk around the stadium, get changed, and then meet you in her car. You had just simply changed into a long black dress in the car. Leah had tinted windows anyway so it didn’t really matter.

What you didn’t expect was for Leah to get into the car with a suit on. Your mouth was open and dry, so incredibly dry. She looked breathtaking. The black of her suit made her blonde hair stick out and the black tie was doing wonders in your head.

“Lee you look amazing. Definitely don’t look like you just got done playing 90 minutes of football.” You joked with her.

“It’s one of my many, many talents.” she sarcastically said as she shrugged and sent you a wink. “You look good too baby. Stunning as always.” giving you a quick peck.

Leah in her suit and her right hand dangerously high on your thigh wanted to make you scream out to cancel the date and take you straight home. Use that tie to tie you to the bed. But patience was key, good girls were patient, and good girls got rewarded.

The drive wasn’t long and eventually, you were pulling into the parking lot. It was a nice modern place, big glass windows surrounded the building and inside it was even more lovely. Leah had reserved you a table in the back to try to avoid extra attention to the both of you.

The food was mouthwatering and you were so captivated by Leah in her suit. Your eyes were dead-set on her as she spoke so neither you nor Leah noticed when a couple fans outside the restaurant had taken a few quick shots of the two of you holding hands at the small table through the glass windows.

The dinner could not have lasted longer, Leah was certainly taking her time finishing her meal. Leah was guiding her long legs up yours and her hand placements were anything but subtle. You couldn’t take it any longer.

“Lee please take me home and fuck me” was all you needed to say as Leah grabbed your hand and led you to her car.

—————

You had woken up in the morning before Leah. You traced your fingertips over the red lines all over her back from last night’s actions, carefully moving her blonde locks out of the way. It was peaceful, the sun was just rising outside of your open blinds and Leah was sound asleep.

A loud phone call noise ruined the silence. First, it was your phone ringing, and then it was Leah’s. You untangle from Leah slightly and grab your phone from the bedside table to stop the annoying noise.

Quietly saying “Hello?” as you didn’t want to wake Leah just yet.

It was your agent.

“Have you been on social media today?” she almost screams at you, anger definitely in her voice.

“What no? Why?” inching yourself more upright in the bed and leaning over to grab Leah’s phone as it has continued to ring.

“Did you and Leah go on a date last night?” she continues to swarm you with questions and not explaining why she was calling. She obviously knew you and Leah were dating, but why did it matter if you went on a secret date?

“Yes? Why?” utterly confused.

“A fan posted a photo of you and Leah last night and it’s gone viral.”

The first thought through your mind was fuck. The second was that you immediately needed to wake Leah. You look on Twitter and there are several photos of you and Leah last night. One of you two holding hands at the table. One of the two of you getting into Leah’s car afterwards. There were several pictures almost documenting the whole date.

Everyone making the quick connection of the real reason you were at the Arsenal game yesterday as social media ran wild with dating rumors. I mean by the evidence, they weren’t really rumors at this point, they were facts.

Gently pushing her shoulder as you said, “Lee you need to wake up.”

Of course, she turns right over without even opening her eyes, shifting away from your hand.

“Leah Williamson wake up!” you shout at her.

You weren’t angry at Leah, but the panic that you felt in your chest at the thought of your little secret getting out startled you. Were you really ready to let the public know?

Leah could hear the stress in your voice as she was now awake, rubbing her eyes and looking at you.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, sleep definitely still in her voice.

“Someone posted photos from our date last night.” you tell her as you hand her your phone with the pictures on it.

You had completely forgotten about your agent on the phone, as she rambled off ideas on PR tactics that could hopefully lessen the damage. Leah scrolls through the photos and the countless responses.

“What do we do?” you ask Leah as your finger pinch your nose.

“What do you want to do?”

You fully expected her to begin siding with your agent, a quick way to end this little mess. But as she looked at you, she wanted to do what you wanted. And what you wanted was to love Leah in public, tired of loving her in private. You wanted to post funny pictures of Leah, she always made you laugh. You wanted to hold her hand in public, letting everyone know she is yours. You wanted to take her on extravagant dates and show her how much you loved her every single day, in public and in private.

Sure the media was ruthless, but you and Leah would battle the storm together.

“I guess the secret’s out.” you chuckled out. The stress in the situation lessened, you would weather the media together. You told your agent that you were going to let the public know and hung up.

Leah, on her phone now, messaging back to a couple people who had reached out about the photos and asked what she was going to do.

“Are you okay with this?” you asked her to make sure she was feeling the same way you were.

“Yeah I think so. I don’t want us to be a secret anymore. I want the whole world to know your mine” she said as she intertwines your fingers with hers and pulls the comforter up as you both choose your favorite photos to let the world know.

“I guess the secret’s out.” you joked as you pressed publish.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #woso soccer #woso blurbs #womens soccer #woso couples #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #awfc #arsenal women

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crimsonbubble · 10 months

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Hello! Hope you're having a wonderful day/night.

I'm not sure if you're taking requests but...

Just came on here to ask if you could write a Professor!Miguel O'Hara x Student!Reader type au?

Please and thank you for listening! 🤍🙌🏼

cw. nsfw, gn college student!reader, professor!miguel, age gap (reader 20s, miguel 40s), forbidden relationship (?), manhandling, fingering, oral (m receiving), cum eating, praise, degradation, cockwarming, spanking, one use of 'daddy' *not proofread, just pure horny

[IM SOREY I GOT TO THIS SK LATE AAAAAAAA 🥹🥹]

MINORS DNI!!

another day, another class. college seems to be keeping you swamped with essays and assignments, but a certain someone's class made the workload that tad bit easier.

Mr. Miguel O'Hara, your biochemistry professor. you knew you weren't the only one with your eyes on him. he was tall, incredibly handsome, and made paying attention worth it when he'd turn his back to the students. if you asked anyone in your class, you'd all unanimously agree that Mr. O'Hara is undoubtedly attractive. you've imagined things that would haunt you till the day you died.

being bent over his desk or being sat on his desk while his hands curl into your spots. clutching at his broad shoulders as he kissed and bit at your neck, pressing the pads of his fingers insistently into the spot that had you seeing stars. slotting your lips together as you come undone, trying to muffle the sounds from being heard by others. hearing him coo out praises as he made you writhe and shake on his desk.

tears streaming down your cheeks and saliva dripping down your chin as he held your mouth at the base of his cock. letting out a rumbling groan as you choke and gag on him. pulling you off his cock so he can lean down and capture your lips in a sloppy tooth and tongue-filled kiss.

"gotta be quiet, honey. can't have others hearing us." "that's it, just like that. being so fucking good for me." "oh you filthy little slut, look how much of a mess you made."

even with all the eyes that linger on him, he has his eyes on you. you've piqued his interest when you first popped into his class and he almost didn't want to admit that he looked forward to the days when he got to see you.

it was when he had bumped into you at the coffee shop near your college that set your relationship into motion. you had stopped by there during your break between classes, needing a little pick-me-up. Miguel simply needed more caffeine to keep him awake for his next and final class of the day. you two decided to get a table together and chat, and yes, Miguel did insist on paying, meaning he paid before you could even get your wallet out of your bag. he ushered you off to a table with a soft tut and waited for your drinks.

as you bonded over drink blends and classes, your alarm for your next class rang. Miguel sighed and checked his watch, before getting up along with you. he quickly scribbled something on a napkin and gave it to you, giving you a soft smile and winking quickly as he left. you grabbed your stuff and rushed off to your next class. you fishes the crumpled napkin out of your pocket and nearly dropped your drink as you read the note over and over.

even with such a simple note consisting of his number and a small "text me when you're free? ♡" made your heart flutter and a familiar warmth spread across your face.

In the following days, Miguel made an effort to slip in some inconspicuous praise at any given time. when you do good on an assignment, when you ask questions in class, and of course when he has his thick and heavy cock buried between your thighs. he never holds back on praise; you deserve it. but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to discipline.

he's a college professor, of course, he should know. so he's not partial to having you cockwarm him while he grades assignments and essays. if you've managed to catch him at a bad time, yet still insist on pushing buttons, he won't hesitate to pull you down over his lap. he'll tug your pants down just under your ass and leave it rosy, hot, and stinging. though he immediately follows up with soft caresses as he lifts you into his lap properly, gently soothing your skin as you sniffle lightly.

"you're okay, sweetheart. I'm almost done, then you can have daddy's attention, yeah?"

#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #bubbly writes <3 #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x reader smut #spiderverse x y/n

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neil-gaiman · 11 months

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Mr. Gaiman, I'm seriously burnt out. I grew up being constantly praised for my writing skills, but as I've grown older I feel like I've lost the ability to write. Especially in these last few months, words don't flow as naturally as they used to and I get caught up in stupid details, like spelling or grammar. The pressure from the adults in my life (and the school system, obviously) has caused me to lose my passion for writing. I feel, for once in my life, basically illiterate. I'm uninspired-beyond uninspired, even. All of my work feels derivative, and when I do write, like now for example, it's almost by a kind of muscle memory. It's scary, I've been told by my parents that writing is the only thing I have going for me. Mediocre grades, a 'meh' resume: I have nothing else under my belt. And that was okay. That used to be okay, because I knew that they were right. I was good, I was winning poetry contests and filling up notebooks with pretentious, tweenage musings. I was writing incredible songs every single day. I was churning out essays, and vignettes with a kind of consistency I would never dream of even attempting to recreate. But I burnt out, slowly. I didn't notice it, until it became so unbearable I couldn't disregard it anymore. Everything I write is awful. My essays are ramble-y and disorganized, all my songs sound the same. I sit down with the intention of writing something and I stare at that stupid, flickering google-doc mouse icon for hours before giving up completely. I feel dumb. I feel like a shitty replication of someone I used to be. I'm just pretending to be that smart, motivated person. Writing was my whole identity. It was what made me me. So what the am I supposed to do now? What if I can't find that passion again? How do I stop feeling like a fraud?

Maybe you just ran out of things to write about. Stop writing and go and do some living, and find other things to enjoy and other things to make. Get your heart broken. Get fired from a job or two. And one day you'll wake up and have lots of things to say and lots of things to write.

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blluespirit · 3 months

Text

i wish that there was more time between the day of black sun and sozin's comet bc zuko's official desertion from the fire nation would have the most insane ripple effects (and it would be nice to see the gaang interacting a bit more than we got but hey i'll take what i can get)

zuko's desertion would have been essentially impossible for the fire nation to bury since it was such a big deal that he returned at all. so i imagine the smear campaign against zuko would have been craaazy. i think it would have been interesting for the gaang to try and deal with that when navigating the FN. zuko would be very recognisable i think at this point, and it would have made staying hidden much harder. would they still have chosen ember island? maybe the kids didn't recognise zuko and azula during The Beach , but with the prince of the fire nation committing treason would there be more wanted posters? would there be more talk around the island? would zuko have to remain hidden while the rest go out and get food?

i wonder if zuko deserting and very meaningly committing his loyalty to the avatar influenced other soldiers in the FN to also desert? or would it have had the opposite effect and made people feel more patriotic since zuko was banished, returned under the guise of having killed the avatar, and then left when aang announced his survival to world during the failed invasion?

SPEAKING OF THAT!! the rumours around this would be INSANE. we know what really happened, but the public don't. did zuko and the avatar plan this so that there would be an inside man during the invasion and then zuko used that chaos to escape? what really happened in ba sing se if zuko didn't kill aang, but azula thought that he did? (again: we, the audience know the truth, but the general public don't). if zuko and the avatar where working together... for how long? was iroh involved somehow since he also disappeared the same time that zuko did? did iroh get captured on purpose to be close to zuko to possibly help him if needed? did zuko break iroh out of jail or did one of the guards or was iroh alone? you could spiral on this as just an average person in the avatar world for years like. if youtube existed in atla imagine the video essays breaking down all the conspiracies

its a kids show so obviously Nothing Bad Happened BUT in the Boiling Rock, zuko getting found out as not only an imposter (already, a very bad situation), a traitor (extremely bad), AND the traitorous (ex) prince of the fire nation (devastatingly terrible) would have been... incredibly dangerous for zuko. in zuko and iroh's original wanted poster, the official translation says “Permission is granted to kill them on sight” and this was before zuko has gone right ahead and committed Treason On Purpose. the warden is not going to be nice. when the warden visits zuko in his cell he literally tells him "If these criminals found out who you are, the traitor prince who let his nation down, why they'd tear you to shreds." the boiling rock would be hell trying to survive. it also puts a lot more weight on zuko refusing to leave sokka in their first escape attempt. also ozai obviously knew that he has his son was in prison bc he... broke in to the prison bc azula was there but then zuko manages to escape with sokka (another imposter) and suki and hakoda (POWs) and chit sang (a prisoner) and two of azula's trusted friends end up in prison for treason as well i just. that is literally insane for the average person to hear about. again, THE CONSPIRACIES!!

when zuko eventually does take the throne there's a lot of conjecture around what zuko did while he was banished and moreso, what he did the second time he left, this time voluntarily. i think zuko's loyalty would be questioned a lot; by other world leaders who are understandably wary about the fire nation and its motivations, but also by its own people - some who believe that zuko is a traitor to his country and is trying to sabotage it since he helped end the war.

idk these are all just me rambling but it would been so interesting to explore the implications of zuko leaving the fire nation and how that would have impacted the gaang and how they interacted with others in their travels. there are so many fic where zuko joins the gaang early, but neither myself with the aus that I have written, nor many that ive read have explored this very much or at all.

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chelseachilly · 2 months

Text

tired of loving from afar

pairing: mason mount x reader warnings: none, mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst! word count: 5.3k

a/n: not me writing for someone other than ben lmao?? been really in my mase feels lately so here's a fluffy little long distance relationship fic (also was very happy to read this morning that he's likely going to be back after the international break! my heart has been hurting for him this season 🥺) have a great weekend loves 💓

Of the three years you’ve been with Mason, the past six months have been the hardest by far.

You’d overcome other hurdles in your relationship, like adjusting to the exposure and demanding schedule of a professional footballer, learning to cope with your life being somewhat public and thousands of girls being in love with your boyfriend. None of this was nearly as challenging as having to adjust to him living 200 miles away from you.

His move to Manchester was bittersweet - you were so proud of him for getting a spot at such a massive club and finally receiving the appreciation and recognition he deserves. You knew he was happy to have a fresh start and a chance to prove himself as a player.

At the same time, it was incredibly emotional for him to leave his boyhood club, his friends, his family, and you all at the same time. You would’ve given anything to go with him, even if it meant leaving your own friends and family in London, but you were about to start your final year of uni there. You couldn’t just pack up and go, no matter how much you wanted to do so.

You’re passionate about your studies, and you knew it would all be worth it when you graduate and get a job in your chosen field - and in the same city as the man you love. You knew it was only a year.

That didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye.

You’ve both made a massive effort to see each other as much as humanly possible, going up to Manchester every time you have a break from classes or a weekend without an exam or assignment due. Mason has also come back to London any time he gets the chance, sometimes flying out just to see you for the day. You’ve been making it work, but it’s not nearly the same as living in the same house as him. Even when you were both super busy, you at least got to see each other when you woke up and before bed, and now all you have are texts and FaceTime calls.

On a night like tonight, when you’re exhausted from the week and you just want to be wrapped in his arms watching a film, FaceTime really feels like a poor replacement for the real thing.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mason says, a sleepy smile on his face as he answers your call. “How was your day?”

“Hey, Mase,” you say, curling up with a blanket and admiring his face in the soft glow of his bedroom lamp. Judging by the fact that he’s in bed by quarter to nine, you figure he’s as worn out as you are. “It was okay, felt long. I finally turned in my essay, though.”

“Good work, babe, I’m sure you aced it like always.”

You blush a little, never growing tired of how he takes every opportunity to praise your intelligence. Any time someone asks about your studies, he does a full spiel about how smart you are.

“We’ll see,” you say. “How was your day, love? Any updates at physio?”

The way his smile instantly fades makes your heart drop to your stomach, fearing the worst.

“Yeah, um-it’s looking like a bit longer,” Mason says, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady so you don’t worry too much. “Maybe another few weeks. They’re not sure.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you sigh. “I’m sorry. I know how frustrating this is.”

The hardest part about being away from Mason has unquestionably been watching him struggle from afar without being able to properly support him. From the rocky start to the season, to being out due to injuries basically ever since, it’s been torture not being there for him.

You went up straight away when he first injured his calf in November, needing to both emotionally and physically care for him, but you couldn’t stay long before your exams started. Since then, you’ve done your best to help from London - sending him care packages, calling him as much as your schedule allows, asking Luke and Anouska to keep an eye on him and let you know how he’s holding up.

In moments like these, though, what you really need is to hug him and tell him everything is going to be alright.

“Yeah, it’s a bit tough,” Mason admits, fiddling with his hoodie string. “But at least I’m back in partial training, it could be worse. I could’ve done my ACL or something, you know? I’ve been pretty lucky in my career so far.”

One of the many things you love about him is his infectious optimism, how he always sees the best in situations and in people.

Right now, though, you’re not sure you fully believe the words leaving his mouth. He looks so disheartened and downtrodden.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, frowning. “I know it’s not the news you’re expecting, you’re allowed to be disappointed.”

“I’ll be fine, angel, don’t worry about me,” Mason reassures you. “Just missing you a little extra today.”

“Me too,” you murmur, touching the screen and wishing it were his face. “I’m sorry I can’t make it up this weekend, but this group assignment-“

“Don’t apologize, baby, I know how busy you are this term,” Mason cuts you off, just as he always does when you try to apologize for being so far away.

You do the same to him when he tries to say he’s sorry for uprooting your life together, for not being there when you’re stressed about school or just having a bad day. Truthfully, neither of you are at fault, it’s just life. But it still sucks sometimes.

“We’ll see each other in a few weeks when I have my reading break,” you remind him. “Just a while longer.”

“I know, I’m counting down the minutes,” Mason smiles.

You talk for a little while longer before you reluctantly have to go so you can get ready for bed, and you promise to call him again tomorrow night.

The sad look on his face when you say goodnight lingers in your mind as you shower and do your skincare routine, and by the time you climb into bed, you’ve made a decision.

First, you message your group for the assignment you’re working on and ask if you can push your planned meeting to Monday rather than Saturday. Next, you text Luke and ask him to make sure Mason doesn’t have plans tomorrow night.

Lastly, you book a train to Manchester, because you’ll be damned if you don’t go cheer up your man when he needs you.

The moment you arrive at the train station in Manchester the next day, you hop in an Uber and make your way straight to Mason’s.

You know that he’s still at training and will be for at least another hour or so, as you’ve been texting Luke for updates so Mason doesn’t get suspicious. It’s not unusual for you to ask how his day is going, but you don’t typically ask for the exact time he plans on leaving Carrington or instruct him to go straight home after training.

Using the key that Mason gave you when he moved in, insisting that it was still your home even if you don’t live there the majority of the time, you let yourself into his house.

You drop your bags and immediately get to work on creating the perfect cozy, romantic Friday night in.

By the time you get the text from Luke that he’s on his way back with Mason, having devised a fake plan of coming over to play FIFA after training to ensure Mason didn’t make other plans, you’re just finishing up.

You’ve successfully transformed his house, which he bought furnished and has put very little effort into making homey, into a much more welcoming environment.

You ordered flowers for the kitchen table, as well as enough groceries to make dinner for him tonight and to replenish his far too empty fridge. You did a bit of tidying, deciding to do a few loads of laundry for him when you noticed there was quite a pile forming, and it must have been a week or so since the cleaning service he pays for came.

You put some soft music on his speakers and lit a few candles in the kitchen as well, popping a bottle of white wine into the fridge so it’s ready for your dinner.

You’ve just started chopping a few veggies to get a head start on dinner when you hear the sound of the front door opening followed by distant voices, one of which you immediately recognize as Mason.

“Do you hear that music?”

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice after weeks apart fills your stomach with butterflies - you’re just as giddy to see him as you were in your early days of dating.

“Probably the neighbours, mate,” Luke responds, still playing along with your ruse.

“I don’t think-“

Finally, the guys turn the corner into the kitchen, and you see Mason come into view with Luke trailing behind him. His eyes widen in surprise for a moment, slightly startled by there being someone in his house, and then he realizes it’s you and his mouth falls open in shock.

“Surprise,” you say shyly, while Mason is still at a loss for words.

He immediately drops his training bag to the floor and makes a beeline for you, pulling you into a tight hug and lifting you off your feet before you can even hug him back properly.

You relax into his arms right away, squeezing him just as tightly as he’s squeezing you and breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and aftershave, freshly showered after training. It’s the same scent that lingers on the t-shirts and hoodies that you steal from him every time you come up, wearing them until you regrettably have to put them through the wash.

“Baby,” Mason mumbles into your neck, pressing little kisses there. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m here,” you confirm, wrapping your legs around his waist as he refuses to set you down or let you go. “I missed you way too much to wait another three weeks.”

He pulls back far enough to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands sliding down to your thighs to support your weight as you kiss him back. You can feel the pieces of your world shifting back into place, your heart settling in your chest as you sink into his warmth.

Mason presses a few more quick pecks to your lips before reluctantly setting you down, arms still wrapped around you. It’s only then that you realize Luke is still here, shuffling awkwardly in the corner.

“Thanks for your help, Luke,” you say with a shy smile, moving to Mason’s side.

“Of course, the man never shuts up about how much he misses you, so it’s really a favour for me as well,” Luke jokes. “I’ll leave you guys. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks, mate,” Mason says with an eye roll and a grin before turning his attention back to you, pressing kisses to your head.

“Night, Luke! Give my love to Anouska and the kids,” you call out, though you’ve also turned back to face Mason and bury your face in his chest.

You remain in each other’s arms, just holding one another and breathing in and out for a minute or two.

You knew you missed him, but you don’t think you realized quite how much until right now. It’s taken such a toll on both of you being apart for so long.

“How long are you staying?” Mason asks quietly, almost like he’s afraid of the answer, as he lightly rubs your lower back.

“Until Monday morning,” you say. You wish it were longer, but three nights together is the best you’ve gotten in a long time.

“Really?” Mason asks, pulling back and looking at you with bright eyes. “I thought you had to do your group assignment tomorrow?”

“I pushed it to Monday, I had to come see you after we spoke last night.”

You reach up to cup Mason’s face with one hand, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. Judging by the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you, you know you were right to come. He’s obviously been struggling with the disappointment of the never-ending injuries, all the uncertainty it’s brought.

“I’m okay,” he says softly, turning his face to press a kiss to your palm. “Now that you’re here, everything’s okay.”

You melt at his gentle words, but they don’t do much to ease your worries about his emotional wellbeing.

Mason gives you a quick peck on the forehead before looking around the room, noticing the food you’re preparing and the cozy, romantic vibe you created for your evening.

“What’s all this?” he asks, a small smile on his face.

You’re not keen to drop the subject, but you don’t want to ruin your rare weekend together by bombarding him with questions either. You know he’ll talk about it when he’s ready.

“I just ordered some food for dinner and restocked your fridge a bit,” you explain. “I figured you would be happy to stay in tonight, so I got stuff to make your favourite pasta.”

Before he can respond, the dryer beeps, signalling that the load is done. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you doing laundry?”

“I just threw a couple loads of your clothes in, I noticed you were running behind,” you shrug.

Mason looks at you with complete awe, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says softly. “You being here is enough. It’s more than enough.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck once more.

“I know, but I wanted tonight to be perfect and relaxing,” you explain, pecking his lips. “No stressing about football or school or anything else. Just you and me.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” Mason sighs, squeezing your waist. “Can I help you cook?”

“No, but you can pour us both a glass of wine from the bottle in the fridge and sit down and tell me about your day,” you smile, kissing him one more time before pulling away to return to your meal preparations.

Mason does as told, sneaking another few kisses when he brings you over your glass, then sitting at one of the stools at the kitchen island.

You treasure this domesticity more than almost anything with him - the simple act of chatting about your days while making dinner is something you’ve missed terribly.

When the pasta is ready, you dish it out into two bowls and bring them over to the table.

“God, I missed your cooking,” Mason grins as he dives into his portion, obviously starving after a day of training. “It’s delicious, babe.”

“Thanks, Mase,” you reply, pouring yourself a little bit more wine. “You want some more?”

“Might as well, it’s not like I’m playing tomorrow,” Mason says, the offhand comment hurting your heart much more than he intended.

He’s still smiling at you as you pour his drink, but you don’t believe for a second that it’s real.

“Do you want to go tomorrow?” you ask after a minute of silence while you both eat. “I know you usually go to the home games, right?”

Mason shrugs. “Yeah, we can if you want.”

Once again, you don’t press him further, listening as he changes the subject and starts updating you on Ben’s latest girl troubles.

After you’ve finished and cleaned up, you head into the living room to catch up on the new episodes of Drive to Survive. You always save your favourite shows for when you’re together, sometimes dodging spoilers for weeks just so you can enjoy it properly with Mason.

The moment you sit down on the couch, Mason pulls you into his arms for the first real cuddle you’ve had in weeks. You very contently lean into him, resting your head on his chest and humming in delight as Mason slides his hand under your hoodie and begins to gently stroke your lower back. It’s not with the intention of anything sexual, though you’re sure that will come later, it’s just an innate need to be as close to you as possible.

It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt since he left your flat in London three weeks ago, your body and mind decompressing with every moment spent in his arms.

A few hours pass, and you can feel yourself growing tired, but you’re enjoying Mason’s commentary on the Alpine rivalry far too much to interrupt and suggest you go to bed. Your yawns are betraying you, though, and Mason begins to gently run his hand through your hair.

“You ready for bed, sweetheart?” he asks softly, kissing your forehead.

“It’s so early,” you murmur as you glance at the time on your phone, barely past 9PM, yet you can’t contain another small yawn which makes Mason chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m tired out from the week.”

“No worries, we have the whole weekend,” Mason smiles. “Honestly, I’m a bit worn out too. Wanna go upstairs and I’ll get us some water?”

You nod as he stands and helps you to your feet, pressing one more gentle kiss to your forehead before heading into the kitchen. You make your way up the stairs to his bedroom and head into his ensuite bathroom.

It occurs to you as you’re flicking the light on that you forgot to grab your toiletry bag from your suitcase in his room, and you’re just about to turn back for it when something catches your eye. On one of the shelves above the toilet, there’s an array of products that wasn’t here last time you visited. More specifically, there’s a version of just about every hair and skincare product you use on a regular basis, and you really doubt that Mason has taken up doing hair treatments or using Drunk Elephant serums.

Maybe it shouldn’t mean as much to you as it does - he’s always been thoughtful, and you know the expense of buying all this is nothing to him - but for some reason, the simple gesture nearly brings you to tears.

Mason appears in the doorway a moment later, smiling softly at you.

“You okay, love?”

“When did you buy all this stuff?” you ask, gesturing to the shelf.

“Oh, uh, a couple days after the last time I came to London,” Mason says casually. “I took pictures of everything in your bathroom to make sure I got the right stuff, I just wanted to make it easier for you when you visit.”

As you look into his soft, sincere gaze, your love for him feels more overwhelming than ever.

Which means your guilt does, too.

“Mase, I’m so sorry I haven’t been up to visit more lately,” you say, your voice unsteady. “I know you’ve been struggling, and I know you’ve been keeping a lot of it from me because I’m busy with uni, but you’re my priority and I should’ve-“

“Hey,” Mason says gently, interrupting you with a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for focusing on your studies. I know how hard you’ve been working, and I’m so proud of you. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m gonna be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you shake your head, tears now streaming down your face. “You’ve always been there for me, and now you’re in a new city and a new club and you’ve been dealing with injuries and I’m all the way across the country.”

“Y/N, we knew this would be hard, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t,” Mason says, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “But it’s not your fault I moved clubs while you still had a degree to finish, or that I’ve had a tough season. Some things are out of our control.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Hearing his sad, defeated voice on the phone after a disappointing medical assessment or bad game and not being able to hold him has been one of the hardest things you’ve ever done.

“I just worry about you being here all alone,” you say quietly. “I know you have your teammates and you spend a lot of time with Luke, but in London you had me and all your friends and your family was closer and - I just hate that I’m not with you.”

“You’re here right now,” Mason says, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment. “You dropped everything to come see me today, babe. You have no idea how much that meant.”

“I would do it every weekend if I could.”

“I know,” he says with a sad smile. “And I would leave all of this and spend my time helping you study and supporting you if I could, but this is our reality for a little while longer, angel.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement and staring into his big brown eyes that bring you so much comfort.

“I’ve just missed you so much,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug.

His own arms circle your waist and tug you impossibly closer, his nose buried in your hair so he can breathe you in.

“I know, baby, I’ve missed you too,” he exhales. “So, so much.”

You hold him for a while longer, cherishing every brush of his hand against your back and every kiss he presses to your temple. You want to memorize the feeling of his touch, so when you’re back in your bed in London a few days from now you can close your eyes and try to imagine you’re still in his arms.

After a few minutes, you break apart to finish preparing for bed. You brush your teeth together then go through your skincare routine while Mason watches fondly, letting you put some moisturizer on him when you’re done with it. Then he strips down to just his boxers, teasing you lovingly when you obviously check him out, and passes you a comfy t-shirt from his drawer to change into. You make a mental note to fill up your suitcase with a few of his hoodies before you leave - the ones you have at home no longer smell like him.

You climb into the bed together, noticing that the side you usually sleep on has all of its pillows in place and that the nightstand is almost empty except for the glass of water he set down for you. Like he’s still been leaving that space for you even when you’re not there to fill it.

“C’mere,” Mason says immediately, tugging you into his chest.

You relax against him, laying your head over his heartbeat and tracing his tattoos with your finger.

“Will you tell me how you’ve really been feeling lately?” you ask in a gentle voice. He immediately tenses, and you know he still doesn’t want to discuss it, but you’re not leaving Manchester without talking to him about this. “I saw the look on your face when I asked about the game tomorrow, babe. Please just talk to me.”

“I don’t want to burden you with all this,” Mason says, refusing to meet your gaze. “I know how busy you are-“

“I told you, you’re my priority, Mase,” you insist. “And it’s actually more concerning when I don’t know what’s going on with you. If you talk to me, then maybe I can help.”

Mason sighs and moves into a more upright position, still holding your hand and playing with your fingers as a way of grounding himself as he gathers his thoughts.

“I just never thought it would be like this, you know?” he mutters. “I thought that coming here would solve everything I was going through at Chelsea, but in a lot of ways it’s been even harder.”

You nod for him to continue, gently squeezing his hand.

“I thought when all the contract stuff was resolved and I was at a new club everything would be fine, but then it’s just been constant injuries and trying to adjust to a whole new life without actually being able to do the thing I love most,” he goes on, making your heart splinter even more. “Fifty-five million pounds and I don’t have a single goal to show for it.”

“You can’t help that you’ve been injured, baby,” you say softly, though you know he already knows that. “If you were in top form, you’d be scoring goals all over the place. I know it.”

He smiles slightly, always grateful for your neverending confidence in him. You’ve been his biggest fan from the moment you met, cheering him on through every high and low of his career.

“Maybe, but I haven’t had the chance to try,” he mutters. “I’m just stuck here, being useless to the club and hours away from you. I basically upended our lives just to end up not playing for months.”

“Mase, if I’m not allowed to feel guilty for us being apart, neither are you,” you say firmly. “Coming to United was the right decision. It may not feel like it now, but I promise it will in the long run. And if not, we’ll find a new place for you to show everyone how amazing of a footballer you are. Even if it’s in a different city or another country, we’ll figure it out.”

“Babe, I feel bad enough that you’re moving away from London to be here next year, I’m not gonna ask you to move again,” Mason says, still fiddling with your fingers. “I have to make it work here.”

“And I’m sure you will as soon as you’re better,” you tell him, bringing your joined hands to your lips. “But if it ends up not being a good fit, I will happily follow you anywhere you want to go.”

“Even the States?” Mason jokes, making you roll your eyes and poke him the ribs. “It would be cool to play with Messi.”

“You are not going to the MLS any time soon,” you reprimand him. “But yes, I would go to Florida for you, babe. That is how much I love you.”

Mason laughs, moving your joined hands so it’s his turn to lay kisses on your knuckles.

“Wouldn’t be so bad. The weather’s good, and we could hang out with the Beckhams,” he says, smiling against your skin. “We could take our kids to the beach-“

“Oh, our kids, huh?” you remark, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, by the time I’m actually ready to play in the MLS…”

“Alright, we’ll move to Florida with our hypothetical children in ten years,” you say decisively. “Then you can retire and stay home with them while I work.”

“I could take them to Disney World every day,” Mason sighs happily. “Oh, and the Harry Potter thing! Our kids would love that.”

As much as you’re both joking, the thought of a time in the future when you’re settled with a family and not having to deal with all the separation and uncertainty makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy. You can’t wait to have a family with him someday.

“In all seriousness, babe, you’ve already accomplished so much in your career and I know you’re going to do so many more amazing things,” you tell him, reaching out to cup his cheek. “And even more importantly, you are such an incredible person off the pitch.“

Mason blushes, leaning into your palm and holding it to his face so you don’t withdraw your touch. You know he struggles to take compliments sometimes, but you also know that this is something he needs to hear.

“Which is why I refuse to listen to you call yourself useless when you do so much for your family, the community, for me - you make everything better, Mase,” you say softly. “That’s why are so loved. It’s why I fell in love with you, not because of your job.”

He takes a moment to soak up what you’re saying, still holding your hand to his face and pressing a few kisses to your palm.

“You mean you’re not in it for the money?” he says after a minute, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“It’s mostly for the money, but the abs don’t hurt either,” you tease, poking his stomach and making him laugh out loud for the first time in as long as you can remember.

Mason pulls you into his arms again, leaning back and tucking you into his chest so your nose is pressed to his neck. You give him another tight squeeze, unable to get enough of his cuddles.

“Thank you so much, baby,” he mumbles into your hair as he slowly rubs his hand over your back. “For coming and for making me talk about this stuff. You always know exactly what I need.”

“Of course, my love,” you murmur. “Just promise me you’ll keep talking to me, okay? I don’t care how busy I am, I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I promise,” Mason swears, squeezing your hand that rests over his heart. “And the same goes for you. I know how stressful this term has been, but I’m always here even if I can’t physically be there to help.”

“I know you are,” you smile. “And I know you’re the reason Ben or Woody brought me dinner or care packages before every midterm. They wouldn’t admit it, but I suspected they were under orders to check in on me.”

Mason chuckles. “Yeah, well, gotta send in the subs when I can’t do it myself.”

You hug him even tighter, throwing a leg over his and letting him shift you back into a more comfortable position for sleep. You’re yawning again, the exhaustion finally catching up to you now that the worry gnawing at your mind over Mason has been relieved.

“So, for tomorrow,” you say, your voice lower now that you’re both getting sleepy. “I think we should go to the game with Luke and Anouska, she already texted me and asked us to come over for dinner afterward. That way you and Luke can show your faces at Old Trafford and we can spend some time with them and the kids. Then, you and I can come back home and have a bit of a romantic night in.”

Mason doesn’t respond right away, and you give him a moment before you look up at him to see if something’s wrong. But when you do, you see only an adoring gaze and gentle smile on his face.

“Is that plan good with you?” you ask, “we don’t have to do any of it, I just thought-“

“No, no, it sounds perfect,” Mason cuts you off. “You’re perfect. I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

Your heart melts even more for him, if that’s possible, and you can’t resist leaning in to press another lingering kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” you say, pressing a few more kisses to his cheeks and nose for good measure. “Now, let’s get a good night’s sleep so I can show you how much I love you in the morning, yeah?”

Mason nods with childlike enthusiasm, making you giggle again as you lay your head back on his chest.

You can’t wait for the time to come that all of your nights end like this, curled up next to the love of your life, but for now, you’re grateful for this one.

No matter how many miles are between you, your heart is always gonna be wherever Mason is. He’s your home, whether you’re on opposite ends of the globe or in the same bed.

You sleep better than you have in months.

please leave me a comment if you enjoyed this or send me an ask just to chat, love hearing from all of you xx

#mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount imagine #mason mount #manchester united imagine #my fics

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badaziraphaletakes · 2 months

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So much wrong in such a small space

...

To address all of this, I pretty much have to write a whole essay. Because I have time to do that lol.

First, any reasonable person will allow that saying Crowley is being selfish or dumb is wrong. Please don’t conflate that bad take with the other stuff you’re arguing about.

YOU CAN BELIEVE AZIRAPHALE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG AND BELIEVE CROWLEY DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG.

Second, how about we not try to say which takes are going to “age very badly when x y or z happens”? The nicest words I can think of for that are condescending and presumptuous.

Third. Drunk with power?!?! He’s spent well over six thousand years terrified for the being he loves most and terrified for himself as well. He’s helpless. He's vulnerable and frightened and powerless. f he had any power he and Crowley would have had their South Downs cottage millennia ago.

Fourth. They escaped because they wanted to bang each other. (Or, like, idk, make out. Something.) And they knew there was a very good chance they’d be left alone (for the time being - more on that in a minute) as long as they didn’t thwart heaven and hell’s agenda. They could escape BECAUSE THEY WERE POWERFUL. They have vastly more privilege than Crowley and Aziraphale. The odds of someone coming after them to punish them are far smaller than for the Ineffable Husbands.

Having said all of the above, however, Neil has confirmed (insofar as he ever confirms anything lol) that destroying Alpha Centauri is part of Metatrash's universe-demolishing agenda. So most likely, Ineffable Bureaucracy just wanted to spend as much time together as they could before being turned into burning goo. They (and Crowley) aren't *wrong* for wanting to choose that, but it's far from a desirable outcome. Aziraphale, equally, is not wrong for wanting to try for something better.

Fifth, and this goes for all of us - if your post starts with “not to be mean, though”, think about why you feel the need to put that. It’s a big clue that what you're saying might be mean.

Finally - there is nothing to "explain away". Aziraphale and Crowley both made incredibly painful choices in a universe where there is no good outcomes. Anyone forced to choose between options even a fraction as horrific as what they are having to choose between, deserves nothing but compassion from us.

#good omens #goodomens #aziraphale #good omens 2 #badaziraphaletakes #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #goodomens2 #ineffablehusbands

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grandeoatmilklatte · 2 months

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Fire in the Frat House (Modern College AU Ominis Gaunt x F!MC) 🔥

Another mood board challenge from my wonderful friend @ellivenollivander . She sent me another mood board to base a fic off of, with this one being Ominis themed. So I decided to revisit my modern college AU Frat boy Ominis.

Tagging @little-emerald-snake cause you were excited when I posted the snippet to this one! Apologies it's not hella spicy but I have some spicy Ominis on the way!

Warnings: Mostly fluff, but with a brief moment of dry hump!ng || characters are in college and over 18.

Word Count: 1.9k

The girl groaned as the webpage loaded, displaying a measly 70% on the essay she had submitted last week, the one that had taken her hours of research to complete. 3 months into it, and her first semester wasn’t turning out to be the fun experience she thought it was going to be. Granted, she knew there was more to college than parties, but she also didn’t think her classes would be this difficult, especially having done so well in high school.

Right now, there were only two things bringing her joy in her freshman life. The first thing being her Sorority - her sisters being some of the best people she had met in her time in college so far. Although the Sorority president, Imelda Reyes, absolutely hated her, she mostly left her alone. The second thing was her relationship with sophomore, popular boy, and campus Fraternity’s president - Ominis Gaunt.

On the surface, Ominis seemed like the most stereotypical hot, rich, Frat boy - His family donated tons of money to the university over the years, and were friends with the Dean’s family. All of the male Gaunts had attended the school, and they all served as Fraternity president the entire time they were in attendance. Everyone respected Ominis and his social status. Nobody dared to cross him, or even think about making fun of his blindness, which he had since birth. All the boys wanted to be his friend, and all the girls wanted to be his girlfriend (hence Imelda’s hatred).

Being Ominis Gaunt came with a lot of power, and being Ominis Gaunt’s girlfriend came with a power of its own. She met him on a Friday after her first week, was in his bed by Saturday, and was in the Sorority by Monday. There was no bullying or freshman hazing for her with Ominis on her arm.

Despite the quickness at which their relationship developed, they were very happy. Ominis was an amazing boyfriend - never afraid to show her off, and being supportive during her first semester of college. Of course there were some things he could not prepare her for, and this crappy grade was one of those things. The girl slammed her laptop shut, grabbed her jacket, and left the Sorority house.

She walked the short distance from the Sorority house to the Frat house, where she let herself inside with her key; another perk of being Ominis Gaunt’s girlfriend. As she passed the kitchen, she found Garreth Weasley, her friend from high school, raiding the fridge.

She shot Garreth a smile before she made her way upstairs to Ominis’s room, which she found empty. She knew he had a big exam today, so this wasn’t surprising. Between this exam and her essay, the couple had barely seen each other the past few days. She tossed herself on his bed, which was dressed with emerald green satin sheets, and waited, eventually dozing off.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep for, but she was violently awoken when she heard the sound of Ominis’s room door slamming shut. She sat up to see her boyfriend tossing his school bag on the floor in frustration.

“Babe, are you okay?”

Ominis looked up in the direction of her voice, seemingly having not noticed she was there. “Oh, darling! I didn’t realize you were here. I…I didn’t do so great on that exam.” There was sadness in his voice. Despite Ominis’s status, he was incredibly smart and took his studies very seriously, so not doing well on an exam was not easy for him.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry!” She threw her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t do well on my essay either. Why don’t we do something fun tonight, to get our minds off our terrible day!”

Ominis pulled back, a smile now gracing his beautiful face. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, my dear! Let me take a shower and then we can plan our evening.”

She looked on as Ominis began to strip down, fighting the urge to pounce on him right then and there. Her eyes studied his body as he undressed - his toned arms, fit stomach, the trail of dark blonde hair below his belly button, lower.

She shook her head to pull herself out of her inappropriate thoughts, grateful that he couldn’t see the way she was ogling him as he wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the room. Not wanting to wait around in his bedroom, she headed downstairs, where she found Garreth in the common area, devouring a bowl of pasta.

“Is everything alright? I saw Gaunt seemed pretty upset when he got here.” he asked with a mouth full of food.

She rolled her eyes at Garreth’s terrible manners, and went on to explain the horrible day they both had. As she spoke, Garreth continued to eat his spaghetti, and it gave her an idea.

“That really sucks!” Garreth said through another mouthful of food. “A few of us guys are going to the movies tonight, and then we’re going to get some beers. I know Ominis can’t actually see the movie, but he likes to listen to them. You’re welcome to tag along!”

“Thanks for the offer, Weasley but we’ll pass. We have plans tonight anyway!”

“Well, make sure nobody catches you here after 10. You know you’re not allowed to be here after 10!” Garreth said the last bit in a mocking tone while she laughed, knowing full well that Ominis never followed that rule.

When she made her way back upstairs, she found Ominis getting dressed. She once again ogled him as he put on a satin black button-down, which he paired with black skinny jeans. He paused for a moment before chuckling.

“You know, I can feel you staring at me again.”

She let out a bashful laugh. “Sorry baby, I can’t help it, you’re just so pretty to look at.”

Ominis smiled. “Heard that a few of the guys were going out to a movie. Figured we could go and then I can take you to dinner afterwards.”

“Actually, I thought maybe we could stay in. We’ve got the entire house to ourselves after all! I thought I could cook us some dinner!”

She didn’t have much skill when it came to cooking, the roles of house chefs belonging to Garreth and a girl named Poppy in her house, but she was eager to do something fun for Ominis, and she hoped it would take both their minds off their bad day.

“Oh darling, that would be lovely!”

–

It was not lovely. Twenty minutes in and she had already shattered a bowl, dropped raw chicken on the floor, and spilled pasta sauce on herself. Despite the chaos she declined help, Ominis having shouted “Darling, are you alright? Do you need any help?” three times in the short time she had been in the kitchen.

Her luck began to turn around, or so she thought, when she successfully had two chicken breasts cooking nicely on the stove. She then turned her attention to a pot she had filled with water that was starting to boil. She grabbed a handful of spaghetti, not bothering to measure if it was an appropriate amount for two people, and tossed it into the water. Figuring she had some time before she’d need to return to her pasta, she headed over to the common area to find Ominis on the couch.

“How’s it going, my beautiful chef?”

“It’s FINALLY going alright!” she giggled as she straddled his lap, her arms coming up around his neck.

“I’m so glad. I can’t wait to taste what you’ve got cooking for us!” Ominis placed his arms on her back, pulling her against his chest as his lips found hers. Their tongues danced, and after a few seconds, her hips started moving, grinding against his lap. She began to moan softly against his lips as Ominis’s hands shot up her skirt, taking hold of her ass. He guided her as she grinded her center against the growing bulge in his pants.

Her hands moved from Ominis’s neck to his chest as she began to open the buttons on his shirt when he abruptly pulled away from her lips, sniffing the air around him. “Darling, do you smell that? It smells like - “

“Oh shit!” She shouted as she jumped off of her boyfriend’s lap, running to the kitchen. The fire alarm began to blare as she was met with the sight of her dry spaghetti on fire. She began to panic, frantically opening cabinets until she found the pot’s lid, slamming the lid on to the pot, forcing the flames to smother. It took the pair several minutes to free the room of smoke, the girl bursting into tears once they had finished.

“I’m so sorry Ominis! I just wanted to do something nice for us after the horrible day we had. I’m so sorry I ruined dinner and made things worse!”

Ominis planted a kiss on her forehead before pulling his sobbing girlfriend into his arms. “Nonsense darling, the effort alone was more than enough. No matter how bad my day is, once I’m with you, it all fades away. I love you, sweetheart! It’s okay! I promise. We can always order a pizza.”

“I feel the same way. You make even the worst days amazing.” She sniffled. “I love you, Ominis.”

–

One hour and one pizza pie later, the couple was snuggled on the couch watching tv. Drowsiness began to overtake the girl, as she let out a yawn.

“Do you mind if I hop in your shower? I’m getting sleepy.”

“Of course. Just give me a moment!”

Without another word, Ominis walked off, walking stick in hand, leaving her on the couch. She thought nothing of it, figuring he just wanted to use the bathroom, or perhaps clean it up before she went in; that is until she heard Ominis calling her name from the bathroom upstairs.

She pulled open the bathroom door to find a bubble bath waiting for her, the smell of lavender and roses wafting through the air, and Ominis already in the tub.

“Ominis!” she exclaimed, the sweet gesture almost making her cry.

“Get in darling, before the water gets cold! And before the rest of the guys get back.”

She was about to undress when she was hit with another, less dangerous idea than her last one. She left the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a bottle of wine and a carton of strawberries.

The couple soaked in their bath, playing with the bubbles, drinking the wine straight from the bottle, and feeding each other strawberries. As Ominis began to massage shampoo into his girlfriend’s scalp, she reminisced about the terrible day she had, and how it turned around so quickly thanks to Ominis. She was so grateful for him and she found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with him with each passing day. Ominis felt the same, wondering to himself what he would do without her in his life. He loved her more than anything else in the world.

They finished in the bath just in time to hear the sound of the boys returning home. Not wanting to hear their complaints of “why are you allowed to have a girl here after hours and we can’t?”, Ominis quickly brought her back to his bedroom, where they got ready to call it a night.

After changing into one of his oversized shirts and nothing else, she joined him in bed, nuzzling into him as he wrapped his arms around her. As they snuggled, Ominis forgot about the exam he failed, and she forgot about the paper she bombed. They both just focused on each other’s breathing until they drifted off to sleep.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt smut #ominis gaunt au #ominis gaunt fluff

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bagopucks · 1 year

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T. Zegras - It’s An Off Day

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Itsy bitsy fighting, jokes and implication of sex

I rewatched the Sandbaggers video today with Zig and Coley, and I swear it kills me every time. Biz is a national treasure. Nothing beats his missed swing in the vid with Sid and Nate tho. Quinn Hughes request is getting posted tomorrow too!

—————————————

Everybody talks about the female menstrual cycle. Everybody knows it’s not always the most delectable, and how the hormones affect your mood and body in many ways.

Nobody discusses the male hormonal cycle though. The twenty four hour rise and fall of testosterone, that can dictate how a man handles their day. For most guys, it’s not really an issue. It’s nothing compared to a woman’s monthly schedule, but that isn’t to say things don’t go off track every once in a while.

The Ducks have hit a losing streak. I’ve seen it before, it’s not the first one, but this one seems to bother Trevor the most. I can’t tell why, I just know it has. He stresses a lot when he’s in these bad times, and that stress has always messed with his head, but now it seems he’s all over the place. He’s skipped out on workouts scheduled, slept in more, and his appetite is barely existent. When he does eat, it’s a shit ton, but it’s usually only once a day. His body going from a strict routine to an absolute mess has taken a toll, but it’s also made those hormonal cycles incredibly out of tune. It makes him irritable in the mornings if I text him too early, and careless in the evenings if something gets too difficult to do.

And the worst part is that he’s not the only one in the midst of a ‘cycle.’ We’re both moody, and we’re both out of tune. It’s hard for him to say something I don’t get mad at, and even harder for me to not yell at him when he’s being difficult. I knew the rubber band was going to snap, I just didn’t think it would be so soon.

It’s the middle of the day when Trevor shows up at my place. I’d asked him to come over for a bit, hopeful that we could try and work in a night of relaxation, but the lack of communication of our own issues was making it extremely hard.

“Hey, babe.” He sounded so exhausted when he stepped through the front door. I don’t know why it made me so angry.

“You didn’t have to show up if you didn’t want to.” I called from the dining room table, assuming he’d come and find me. My face was down in a computer screen anyway, working on a college essay.

“Who told you I didn’t want to come?” His tone is defensive. I couldn’t blame him. We’re both going through our own things. But in the moment? In the moment it pisses me off that he doesn’t hear how he sounds.

“Trevor you sound like I’ve been hounding you all day to be here. I only asked you once.” I snapped right back, finally hearing the sound of shoes being kicked off and the front door being harshly shut.

“You asked me once and I came. Why would I not want to be here? I’ll tell you what makes me want to leave,” Trevor stomped right into the dining room. He stopped in the doorway. “That attitude right there.” He pointed at me, and god if he didn’t sound like a chastising mother in that moment.

“God- Trevor!” The exhaustion laced in my own tone outweighed the anger. I dropped my head into my hands before lifting it to look at him. I stopped. He looked about as shitty as I did.

His hair was a mess, and he had bags under his eyes. I noticed a red spot on his cheek I knew would turn into a pimple soon, but I had a few on my forehead anyway. It seemed Trevor noticed my own state as well. We were both wearing sweats and t-shirts. I had on one of his Ducks shirts, and he wore a plain black one. We both looked like we needed to be baptized in sleep and energy drinks.

My expression softened. Silence overtook the room. I sighed. “Off day?” My question caught Trevor off guard, but the tension seemed to melt away from his body in an instant. We weren’t fighting, we just weren’t communicating.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his gaze falling to the floor. I shut my laptop and slowly got up, crossing the room to meet him in the doorway.

“Me too.” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and Trevor snaked his own around my hips.

“We’re both having shitty days.” Trevor managed a somber smile. “Imagine that.”

“How about a bath? Then maybe some face masks?” I reached up to smooth my finger over the red bump on his cheek, causing him to pull his head back and mumble an ‘ow.’ Sure, the skin could be sore when a pimple was first forming, but not /that/ bad.

“Don’t be a baby.” The irritation was evident in my tone. Trevor smiled again.

“I love it when you’re moody.” A minute ago, I could have sworn he did not love it. “Here.. let me carry you.” I didn’t bother to argue, instead I jumped when he asked me to, and allowed him to carry me bridal-like down the hall to my bedroom and into the bathroom.

“Trevor your hand is digging into my side,” I complained softly before he put me down.

“Chill out.. I just didn’t want to drop you.” He turned away to grab towels before he could see the daggers I was glaring in his direction.

I gently pushed him out of the way to grab my own towel, shaking my head at his behavior.

“Alrighty then..” Trevor muttered, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the floor.

“You know where the hamper is.”

“Goddamn. I’ll pick it up after.” He was tense again, I could tell.

“No, Trevor. Pick it up now. You always say after and then you forget.” I turned to look at him, tossing the towel I had down on the counter.

“Well I won’t forget this time!” He raised his voice slightly, defensive once again.

“Yes you will! Just like Jamie gets on you about leaving your car keys everywhere!” I matched his tone, resting one of my hands on the counter to lean on it.

“That’s different!”

“Alright, then what about the towels? And bowls right beside the kitchen sink? What about all the times you pull my books off my shelves and never put them back? Is all that different too?” I snapped, awaiting a good excuse that I had yet to hear.

Usually I wasn’t this hard on Trevor. I didn’t know what all went on in his mind, but he did try his best not to leave things around. He’d improved since we first met, but sometimes things simply distracted him, and he always apologized and felt sorry when I pointed it out to him.

Trevor wasn’t having it this time though. This was a fight now.

“You’re so bitchy!” He leaned over to grab his shirt, storming out of the bathroom after and pulling it back on.

“Yeah? I’m not the one throwing a tantrum right now, Zegras!” He paused to turn and look at me, uncertain of the implications behind his last name. His brow was furrowed, silently asking where I got the audacity.

“You don’t even listen. Forget this.” I followed him all the way back down the hall and to the front door. I watched as he put his shoes on, an overwhelming sadness eating away at my heart.

Trevor turned to look at me, hopeful to get one last dig in. He stopped when he noticed the tears in my eyes.

“Just fucking leave, Trevor.”

I didn’t want him around any more. It was clear we couldn’t coexist when we both had our own issues going on. He looked defeated, and even guilty, but he left nonetheless.

I retreated back to my bedroom after, crying silently all while telling myself it was my fault, and angrily blaming him. I drove him away, but he put the nails in his own coffin. Who knew when he’d text or call, or ask to see me again. He may never. I didn’t expect him to return at any point that day. And I certainly didn’t expect it to be within a few hours.

By the time the sun began to set, the tears had slowed, and I was able to make myself dinner. I sat on the couch, my laptop on the coffee table with a plate full of dumplings in my lap. Scream was playing on the tv, somehow ironically managing to calm me. I heard a soft knock on the door, but I was hopeful whoever was there would leave. My hopes however, were unfulfilled. I heard the lock jingle before the door opened. I looked up to see Trevor standing there, two grocery bags in hand and an innocent look on his face as he froze.

We stared at each other for a moment, uncertain of the other’s feelings, before he finished walking inside and shut the door.

“You just keep doing your thing. I won’t bother you.” Trevor spoke. It was all I needed to go back to my laptop and my work. Trevor ventured off into my dining room, and I heard him settle at the table before silence filled my apartment again.

Five minutes passed before I heard a clicking noise. I paid no mind. I spotted Trevor in the corner of my eye, entering the room at a slow pace. A sneaky pace. It pissed me off just knowing he was up to something.

He sat in the arm chair across the room by the window, dropping a stack of paper on the floor and two pens, as well as the grocery bag. I was still unaware of what was in it. He pulled his phone out, and eventually I stopped paying any attention to him. I just got through the end of a paragraph on my essay, moving my plate to the coffee table when I heard a pop. Then I felt something hit me in the chest and land in my lap.

My brow pulled together in confusion as I looked down to see a little blue dart with an orange tip. Oh my god I’m gonna kill him

“Trevor.” I looked up at him, brow furrowed. He gestured toward the dart. I looked back down, rolling it in my hand to see a white piece of paper taped to it. I looked back up for a moment, questioning his antics, then I made quick work of peeling the tape and paper off the dart.

I flipped the paper over, noticing Trevor’s handwriting immediately.

I’m really sorry about today

My heart fluttered, I heard the rustle of the grocery bag, and when I looked up, Trevor presented me with a second gun, and a few darts of my own. We met in the middle of the floor to make the exchange before retreating to our opposite ‘trenches’. He even provided me with a few pieces of paper and the tape to make my own message.

I jotted one down quickly, taped it to my own dart, and loaded my gun before firing. Reluctant smiles painted both our lips as Trevor grabbed the dart. He paused for a moment, turning to glare up at me when he noticed the copious amount of tape I used. He wasn’t going to be forgiven without a little hassle.

Once he got the note off, and all the tape off his fingers, I watched his expression contort from frustration to relief.

That’s okay. I shouldn’t have been so mean either

Trevor got a piece of paper to write another note, and I tossed the tape over to him. He seemed to be wrapped up in a long message, and I smirked when an idea came to mind. I loaded a blank dart into my gun and aimed, firing and trying to hide my snickers when the foam bullet popped him right in the forehead.

Trevor immediately looked up at me, laughing out a soft, “hey!” Seeing him smile again made me sigh. We’d be okay.

“Took too long,” I responded sheepishly, setting my gun down on the couch. “I want you to talk to me, Trev. Come over here.” He set his own gun down, quickly coming to my side and sitting on the couch next to me.

“What were you busy writing over there?”

“I uhm..” he paused, leaning back against the couch. “That I love you.. and I don’t want you to be mad at me for the way I treated you. I know it was shitty, but there’s a lot going on right now and.. I guess I just forgot to leave the anger at work.” He sounded so disappointed in himself. I reached out to grab his hand.

“It’s okay, Trevor. Really. I didn’t mean to get so short with you today either. Just seems like we’re both having our own issues right now. But we should be each other’s lifelines, yeah? We can’t go taking everything out on one another.” Trevor nodded in agreement, looking up to meet my eyes. “I love you too.. I know things have been hard. Just please talk to me when you’re frustrated, okay?”

“I will.” I reached up to brush a few of his Sandy locks out of his face. “But you have to talk to me too,” he added, wanting me to know he was always there as well.

“You never really gave me a chance today.” I responded, watching the guilt return to his features as he swallowed thickly. “It’s okay,” I assured. “I don’t think I gave you much of a chance either.” I squeezed Trevor’s hand.

“Okay.. so.. so tell me what’s wrong.”

“School. I’m behind on this essay. My period just started.. and my boyfriend’s moody.” I made sure to tease, hoping to lighten the mood as a shy smile overtook my face. Trevor scoffed, but I could tell it wasn’t a mean one.

“Your turn.”

“Alright… well.. the Ducks suck,” always one to tell it like it is. “I feel like I can’t feel a single emotion for more than two seconds.. and my girlfriend’s on her period,” he paused, leaning forward with a cheeky smile. “And I’ve done nothing to help her all day.” I knew he was only trying to flatter me, but it worked. He pressed his lips to mine for a moment before pulling back.

I rested my hands on Trevor’s shoulders and leaned back onto the couch, our smiles widening as he climbed on top of me.

“We’re just a couple of moody adults then, aren’t we?” I teased, humming as Trevor reconnected our lips.

“Can we be horny adults too?” He asked as he pulled back, causing me to swat his shoulder with a laugh.

“That was cycle day one, bud. I’m afraid you missed it.”

“Aw, damn.. really?” Trevor sounded as bummed as I would have expected him to be. It made me laugh. “Can you reschedule? Talk to your body and let it know I’ll be back to try again tomorrow.”

I laughed once again, squeezing Trevor’s shoulders and shaking my head.

“That’s not how it works, hun.” I let him down easy, giggling at his playful frustration.

“Alright, well when’s the next one?”

“If it stays on schedule, you’ll be on the road for the next one.” I tried to hold in my laughter, knowing he wouldn’t be too thrilled about it.

“Seriously?” His voice raised, and I snickered. “I mean- a guy can’t even catch a break! You think you’ll be in the mood sometime in between?”

“Trevor,” I laughed at the way he spoke about it, so formal. “I’ll know when I know.”

“Nope. I have to know three to four business days in advance. Does anything speed up the process of getting you excited?” He was asking as if we haven’t done it a million times before.

“Shut up, Trevor.” I moved a hand from his shoulder to gently push his head. He laughed, that breathy awkward laugh that always made me smile. Trevor leaned in for another kiss, this one a bit more passionate than the first. He nipped at my bottom lip before I gently pressed a hand to his cheek, pushing his head back.

“I can do one minute in advance…”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#trevor zegras #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #nhl x reader #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine

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nerdpoe · 1 year

Text

Of Kindness and Empathy 6

First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, AO3

Danny had been having a good day.

It had been two weeks since he’d returned to Amity, and his parents were actually calmed down a little from the experiments. Some reporter had dropped by from Metropolis, of all places, and somehow made them see that Ghosts were not only sapient, but had their own culture and hierarchy.

Danny did not ask what the reporter lady had said to them, but when Tucker had asked his dad had gotten a haunted look in his eye and just. Shut down, for a bit.

Even his mom looked ashamed, and ever so slightly traumatized.

Jazz told him and Sam and Tucker that she hadn’t heard everything, but that the reporter had torn them a new one for so long it was sunset by the time their dad distracted the lady with the portal.

She’d gotten there at lunch.

Newspapers were the newest addition to the list of things banned from the house.

So instead of running from his parents shooting at him, he was instead running from them holding notepads and asking him cultural questions about Ghost society.

Which would have been great, if Danny knew much about Ghost society, but Danny did not know much about that culture.

He was incredibly tempted to get one of the eyeball ancients and sic his parents on them.

Or maybe sic them on Tucker, for how weird he was being.

His best friend had been stand-offish for a couple of days before coming back with an almost smothering vengeance, quoting books written by politicians for whatever reason.

Then, there was the fact that Tucker kept looking like he knew something, constantly staring at his phone and making Phantom pose for shoots, but he refused to say what.

“It’ll be funnier,” was all the techie kept saying, hiding behind his phone screen.

Danny didn’t think Jazz or Sam were in on it, they looked about as confused as he did. Jazz saying she was writing her entry essays to different universities, and Sam going on a tangent about how social media was a parasite on the human brain.

It had been just that morning that she and Tucker had been wrestling for Tucker’s phone.

Currently, however, his parents were duking it out with the GIW (and wasn’t that wild?) and the rest of the GIW unit that was not fighting them was chasing him down.

Their weapons were new, brutal, and they were operating like this was a kill mission. There was no regard for civilians, no signs that they were trying to hold back. They’d shot him with a tracker chip that burned and hadn’t stopped chasing him since.

Huntress was preoccupied; a family reunion four states away, so no help from there.

Sam and Tucker and the Phantom Phan Club were trying their best to distract the GIW, but after the bastards had dumped specialized pepper spray on them Danny had resorted to leading them away.

He really hoped that there wouldn’t be any permanent side effects from that; it’d had a strange green glow mixed in. If something had happened to his friends, he’d never forgive himself. He just needed to get away long enough to get the tracker out, and he’d double back to make sure they were okay.

But he’d been flying for so long, and he’d already been shot more than a few times.

This was…not going well.

He needed help.

He hated asking for it.

He had no choice.

The phone was slick with his own blood as he pressed the speed dial to get Mr. Wayne.

“Phantom?” Ah, that was his Batman voice. Whoops. Oh well.

“Hey Batman, I think I messed up,” Danny started breathlessly, almost losing altitude before putting on another burst of speed, “GIW tracked me down mid rounds and uh, I wasn’t vigilant enough.”

“Are you injured?”

Danny winced, lifting his free hand away from his new set of holes. Hmmmm. Yup. That was ‘you should probably get stitches’ levels of blood.

“...Yes. I think I’ve been shot three-” Danny let out a sharp yelp as another shot managed to hit, dropping a good fifty feet before rising again, “-Four. Four times. They can track me when I phase, they shot a tracker in me. It’s…moving. I can feel it. I can’t hide. I don’t know what to do.”

The last bit felt like it was being physically ripped out of him. He hated, despised, being forced to admit a weakness like that.

“...Help is on the way, keep your phone on you. I’m sending Superman. Keep talking to me.”

“Wait, you’re sending who-?”

Danny cut himself off and dodged another shot, careful to keep the phone in his hand and not crush it.

“Phantom, come in. Are you there?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m here. Sorry. Didn’t want to get shot again, I can only make so much blood.”

“ETA One minute. Stay with me. You lied about the King of the Infinite Realms, why? Are you afraid of him?”

Danny dodged yet another shot, sure he’d misheard.

“I…didn’t? Unless I misunderstood who the King is.”

He heard Batman say…something, but the glowing cord wrapping around his ankle and slamming him into the ground with enough force to cause a crater provided a slight distraction from the elder hero’s answer.

Shit. The phone was definitely broken.

Danny pushed himself up on shaky arms and forced himself to roll over, watching the government agents swarm around him.

He didn’t have the energy to phase anymore; everything he had was going towards keeping his ghost form up.

Damn. He’d managed a good run, though. And at least the official, recognized hero’s knew he wasn’t a bad guy.

The cord was cutting into him, and really? Exactly how much blood did they think he had?

But he guessed that was the point of catching him.

To find out.

Danny was blissfully unaware of the drone that Dash had managed to cobble together with the science club recording and broadcasting everything to the world.

Blissfully unaware that due to that story in the Daily Planet that not only was Phantom a renowned hero, but had many fans throughout the world.

Blissfully unaware that for the upteenth time, Bruce was watching another kid under his watch dance with death through that same feed.

The watchers cried out at the injustice of what they saw.

And Superman answered their cries.

Superman landed in front of Danny, tanking the shots meant for him and suffering no damage for it. After all, those weapons were specifically meant for ghosts; any other species wouldn’t be hurt by them unless the setting was changed. Which, for the purposes of the hunt, they weren’t.

Superboy landed at Danny’s side, scooping him up into a bridal carry and breaking the cord with one hand.

Superman turned his head and gave Superboy one nod, glancing up at the sky. At the Watchtower, home to their best medical equipment.

Superboy returned the gesture, and shot upwards, away from the Hell he knew Superman was about to rain down beneath him. He’d never seen his progenitor so livid, and he did not want to stick around to find out what would happen.

Superman turned back towards the GIW, eyes a glittering red.

That had been a child. A kid. A young Meta or Alien doing his best to protect and serve, and these people had been legalizing hunting him for sport.

The folks at the Watchtower would take care of the boy.

All he had to do was make sure that their weapons couldn’t be used against a literal child again, right?

Easy.

…

The feed from the drone cut off in a flash of red.

~~~~~

Flash had been relaxing at the Watchtower-

No, wait.

Flash had definitely been doing serious business in a serious way at their space headquarters.

Yes.

Yes, that was a better way to word that. If Batman found out that his super secret space headquarters was being used as a vacation home instead of for serious business, the man would lose his mind.

Serious business.

Barry narrowed his eyes at his reflection in the glass and took a long, slow sip out of his smoothie.

Sssseeeeerioussssss bussssinesssssssss.

If he channeled it, maybe the security feeds would portray it-

-that was Superboy, wasn’t it?

Flash turned to look just as the kid sped past him and towards the medbay, someone in his arms.

Frowning, the speedster started for the medbay as well, but froze as a loud squeaking noise came from his foot.

“Please don’t be what I think you are,” the hero breathed, looking down to see what he had stepped on.

It was what he thought it was.

Throughout the hallway was a spattered trail of green blood, quickly turning red. Some of the civilian workers met his eyes, shock written on their faces.

The smoothie hit the ground as Flash raced to the medbay, desperate to see which one of them had gotten so drastically injured.

He made it in time to see a flash of white light as Superboy laid the unknown on the gurney and stepped back, and…Flash had no idea who that kid was.

It was not as comforting a thought as he wished.

“Come on Kon, let’s back off so the doctors can get to work.” He gently herded the young Super away from his…friend? Maybe? And said doctors converged on the new kid.

Kon just stepped away from him and almost ripped his own suit in his haste to get his phone out of his pocket.

Flash didn’t even bother to hide that he was listening in as he followed the kid out of the operating room.

“Tim, we got him here.”

Oh, so it was Red Robin’s friend.

“I don’t know what Clark is doing, and I didn’t stick around to find out. He was pissed.”

Superman? Pissed?

Flash glanced through the window in the doorway, at the kid currently being stitched together.

Yeah, he could see that.

“He uh…made a small explosion of light and looked human. Is that normal?”

Flash had a disturbing intrusive thought.

What if he wasn’t Red Robin’s friend and was another one of Batman’s-?

Oh no.

“Yeah, they’re treating him now. I’ll let you know-what? No, you don’t need to come here. No. Well, yes, technically, but-”

Kon sighed and tugged his phone away from his ear. The call was disconnected.

Then he turned and asked the last thing Flash had expected to hear.

“Do you know Constantine’s number?”

“Uh…yeah?”

~~~~~

John Constantine had done a lot of stupid shit in his life.

Selling pieces of his soul, dating people of questionable morals, drinking, smoking, blood rituals-he’d done things. Stupid, idiotic things.

But he could take a small sliver of comfort that he had never made a mistake on the level of which the American government just had.

They’d seriously injured a denizen of the Infinite Realms.

Normally that wouldn’t have mattered that much; Pariah Dark was known not to give too many shits about his subjects individually, and John had been informed that the big bastard was locked in eternal slumber anyways, so his lust for battle was a problem for those in the past.

But the new King, the one Lois Lane had managed to learn about?

That King sounded like someone who cared.

That was new.

That was dangerous.

So when he got a call from Superboy asking if he knew how to treat a being from the Infinite Realms?

John almost messed up his teleportation spell in his rush to get there.

From what Batman had said, this kid was one of the few, if only, Spirits willing to talk things out and seek peaceful solutions.

Maybe his assumption that they had been courting an interdimensional war had been off mark before, but if this kid died there was a very good chance that he wouldn’t be off mark anymore.

The leak into the Realms was in the kids hometown, yeah? The kid was the one going toe to toe with multiple Entities, some of which John Did Not Want To Think About. The little Phantom kept winning those fights.

That meant in Realms culture he was at least incredibly respected.

At max, the result John really hoped wasn’t the case, it meant that the kid was an unknowing ambassador.

That the American government had just gunned down.

John prayed he was wrong.

He knew he wasn’t.

He shoved past Superboy and Flash, ignored their protests, and stomped into the operating room.

A spell on his fingertips and leaving his lips, he got ready to get as much of a read on the kid’s stability as a Spirit as he could.

And froze.

None of the doctors were reacting to it.

No one else could see it.

Why?

Why did this child have the crown?

“No,” John breathed in horror, just as the heart monitor flat-lined.

~~~~~

Superman was…not sure how to proceed.

He’d destroyed the vehicles, the weapons, beaten the Agents black and blue, but this?

This was a little bit outside of his jurisdiction.

The entire town of Amity Park was gone.

Just…gone.

There was a crater where it had been.

It wasn’t a smoking crater, there was no real sign of destruction. The ground around it wasn’t turned up from an impact, the trees weren’t blown down.

It was like someone had reached down and just…scooped the town out of existence.

“Batman, we…have a bit of a problem,” he sighed, opting to ask the detective what was going on.

There was no response.

“Batman?”

Not even static.

“Bruce?”

“Now isn’t a good time Superman.”

He blinked.

“Nightwing? What’s wrong?”

“...Sit down.”

Clark frowned, but obeyed. He felt like he really was not going to like where this was going.

Nevertheless, he floated to the ground and sat back on the grass.

“Okay, I’m sitting.”

He heard Nightwing take a deep breath.

“Daniel-the kid?-just flatlined. They’re trying to bring him back at the medbay.”

His ears started ringing.

“I’m sorry, Clark.”

Nightwing sounded choked up.

Superman didn’t remember taking the comm out of his ear.

He’d been too slow.

A child had been murdered in front of him.

A town had been stolen while he’d been distracted.

He needed a moment.

He just needed to think.

He-

“Hey old man!”

-was mildly offended.

“Excuse me?” Clark turned his head to glare at…another version of the kid he’d just rescued?

Failed to rescue. The boy was dead and there wasn’t anything-

“Yeah, you! Where’s my brother? And the town too, I guess.”

~~~~~

Dani had been trying to get back to Amity before her stupid brother managed to get caught by the GIW. She wasn’t sure why he didn’t just phase away, but they’d probably done something to him.

Now this sad superhero old guy was harshing her vibe.

Also the city was gone, which like, what was with that? Probably just Ghost Zone shenanigans.

Oh right, the old dude was saying stuff.

“-We’re trying to resuscitate him, but-”

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

Ohhhhh, she’d made him mad. Good. That was better than the sad sack she’d just been forced to deal with.

“We’re dead, duh. We don’t have pulses normally, he’s probably just healing himself.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, full of doubt. Rude. She hadn’t done anything to warrant such mistrust.

“Look, I’ll prove it,” she said, and casually stopped her heart and breathing. She’d only kept it up because Danny had asked her to anyway.

Oh wow, this guy had superspeed? She barely even saw his hand snap out to grab the hearing aide.

“He isn’t dead!” The old guy shouted. Oh, that was like, a communication device or something. Bluetooth, then. Wait, didn’t she just tell him that Danny very much was dead? Talk about selective hearing.

“Clark I don’t know how to tell you what a lack of pulse means-”

“It’s a species thing, he’s healing himself! He doesn’t normally have a heartbeat!”

She could mark the underwear man as rude as well then, interrupting Nice Voice like that. She’d have to get him hearing aides as a gift or something. Help an old man out.

There was more talking on the other side of the line, but she elected to ignore it. It wasn’t important anymore.

Danny was fine, he’d been saved by a bunch of old people. He just needed to sleep for a bit.

Which meant that until he came back, the town was her responsibility.

The old man clearly didn’t know what had happened to it.

Which meant this was a job for super ultra detective Dani.

She would so nail this case on the head.

She floated down the crater, to the bottom and stuck her finger in some dirt.

She’d seen this in movies, so it would totally work.

She then stuck her finger in her mouth.

And spit it back out.

That was disgusting. Movies were dumb. Sam was right, they were just mind-control for the masses.

“Any clues?”

Dani screeched and almost jumped out of her skin, flickering in and out of invisibility.

The old man was behind her, looking a lot happier and genuinely curious if she’d found out anything.

Well well well, a fan?

She could work with that.

“Well, in my personal superior knowledge, I’d say that the town was taken into the Ghost Zone.” Dani crossed her arms and nodded. Yes, that was definitely what happened, no doubts. The how and why, who knew?

“Hmmm. And do you know how to get the town back?”

“Nope,” she answered, popping the “p”, “they should be fine though, they’re used to this. It’ll pop back up eventually.”

The man nodded, glancing around the crater.

“Well, if all we’re doing is waiting for your brother to get better and for the town to reappear, how do you feel about homemade pie? I’m hearing my Ma say she just finished one apple and one blueberry.”

Oh fuck yes she was all about pie.

~~~~~

In the medbay John Constantine had one hand in a tear in reality and the other feeding its essence into the boy.

The kid was a spirit, of course he didn’t need a pulse, that was probably just him tapping out to sleep. Of course, no one listened when John said it; Superman had to be the one to relay that news. Then it was all arse-kissing and bending backwards, ‘oh no Mr. Superman, we’re so sorry Mr. Superman, we’ll get right to work Mr. Superman’ and so on.

It was fine.

John didn’t need them. He’d helped himself often enough that firstaide wasn’t exactly foreign to him.

The state of the Little King’s stitches were a bit ragged, given that the doctors had stopped once he’d been declared dead and John had stepped in to take over that.

Hopefully he hadn’t fucked it up too badly and the kid had a normal healing factor for Spirits.

Other than that, John had effectively taken over the operating room.

There was a sigil drawn in blood on the floor, just under himself and the King. This was what was powering his little tear in reality, and unfortunately also what was shorting out most electrical equipment in the room.

It felt like there were eyes on the other side, watching his every move, feeding him the energy he needed to give to the boy. Nothing attacked his hand, nothing bit it.

The Realms, or its denizens watching him through that crack, knew he was helping.

John was so lost in concentration that the feeling of ice cold fingers wrapping around his wrist that very much was not in the reality tear made him let out a small shriek, ripping said hand away and clutching at his own chest.

Bright blue-green eyes stared back at him in confusion and concern.

Once the fright was over John couldn’t hold back anymore.

This kid was royalty. Where were his bodyguards? Why was he in the Mortal planes when it was so dangerous? Why were teenagers like this?

So he said the only thing he really could, given the situation.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking?!”

578 notes · View notes

h0unds-of-h3ll · 2 years

Text

Helping hand

The biggest name in Hawkins visits you. The bully, but before you can refuse. He meets you with a proposal: help him and he’ll help you.

Steve Harrington x reader smut.

Word count: 5k

Viewers beware you’re in for a scare with the: choking *slightly, degrade and praise, talk of harassment, unprotected sex, p in v, making out, groping, manhandling, hair pulling, hickeys, scratching, explicit language & themes, finger sucking, talk of jealousy & masturbation, secret pining, enemies to lovers? Descriptions of pus, blood and bruises *see gif below, parents in the other room.

A/n: nothing. Look at him, read the filth I wrote for this goon. He’s hurt AND wAnTiNg. What a dream come true. Not really set in a specfic season sooo. This is so cheesy oh my god.

Brown boxes are scattered in your room. Some filled to the brim with memorabilia, others with clothes. The one you’re currently packing, a collection of your work. Academic medals, shoved into the bottom. It’s bittersweet having to leave for college. To become a scholar to better yourself. To get an education for a career. Your parents were more excited than you were. You were mourning over lost memories. The pictures you forced Jonathan to take. The clubs you were in with the introvert. You thought his strike against Polaroids was a bit odd, so you had to get creative in other ways. Such as sneaking, quick photos of him and Nancy. They were cute, even with the unrequited thing they’re going through. Your heart weighs heavy in your chest. Digging through the piles. As you dig, you find an old essay. One that you did for Steve Harrington. You smile. It’s funny, really the strange deal you used to have with the king. You made pretty good money from it. A’s were $100, Bs $50. Test scores were doubled. The dirty hassle lasted all throughout senior year.

It’s amazing how neither of you got caught. Now and then you’d slip up and add a word Steve most definitely didn’t know. Or some punctuation. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t know the difference between a semicolon and a colon. The most bewildering thing being that you actually got to know the person behind the hair. He was an idiot, but a charming one. You got to understand him better as you tried to tutor him. Always after school at your place, four on the dot. (It was the only window of time for your parents, both at work and school ending.) But it didn’t matter, he rarely showed. Always saying something came up.

Or when the times he showed, he was always nervous and unconcerned with the work you tried to teach. It was useless trying to teach a dog who’s too stubborn for his own good. The tricks he didn’t understand. Which leads you to do his work. You reminisces the times he would flash a sharp smile when you popped a joke. The flutter of your heart as he looked at you. The demeaning look he had when he actually tried. Shivers run up your spine as you trace your thumb over forged words. Lost in the mirage of what your life would be like if you acted on your feelings. The rattle on your window spooks you, you jump to your feet. Scurrying over to the window, your heart thumps against the cage of your chest. Trying to pump out of the flesh and bones. It’s the middle of the night, and the only light you have is the soft glow of what’s in your room. But you can make it out. Who it was. Him. The legend of your dreams. His face is casted over with dark shadows. His hair in clumps, facing every which way. It wasn’t normal for him to look so disheveled. He’s slumped over, a hand pressed to the side of your parents house. His other pushed against the side of his torso. You purse your lips together, thinking of every possibility. Your window was incredibly small, although you knew it was possible to escape through it. However, Steve was bigger than you.

Broader even so you scrambled for a better plan. You couldn’t just waltz in a foreign boy into the house. Your parents would lock you up like Rapunzel if they found out. The gentle buzz of the living room tv is a reminder that they’re home. “Date night” resolved to a movie marathon on the couch. They weren’t talking so you assumed that they were passed out. But what if they weren’t. You paced by the window. You step on your tiptoes to peer through the small rectangle. With a deep breath you unscrew the window, propping it open. The cool Night’s air prickling your skin. The air is still as humid as ever. You’re beyond confused as to why he’s here. But the urge to help clouds your judgement. Did you summon him here? It wouldn’t surprise you if you did. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing that’s happened here. As you stare down at him, he runs a shaky hand through the thick strands of his hair. A dark jacket matched with a light shirt is drenched in what you assume is blood. His or someone else’s you didn’t know. He looks to the side, wiping his cheek on his shoulder.

”What're you doing here?”

You whisper as loud as you can. Careful to not waken your parents. Even though you're grown, you’re still terrified of them. He blinks dumbly at you. Those puppy dog eyes, bruised and busted open. It pains you to see him so broken. He looks to the ground, not able to look at you.

“I-“

He pauses. Tears burn the backs of his eyes. Remembering the night's events has scarred him worse than it ever has. He’s honestly shocked he’s hobbled all the way to your house, but here he stands. Wobbling to the side and discombobulated. He chews on the inside of his cheek.

“I need your help.”

~~~

It’s astonishing how he managed to fit through the window. With your “help” you tug on his hand, pulling him through. He’s tripping over your night table. He staggers a couple of steps before crouching. He cups his hands around his shin and groans. A pained wince going across his face. Now you can examine his wounds. It’s almost sickly, the long deep gashes on his temples. The short ones across his jaw and lips. One of his eyes has a big welt near the lid, it drips fresh blood into the cornea, blinding him. His skin was filled with grime and dried blood. Your heart floods with sorrow. Even if he was an ass to you, he didn’t deserve this. His head falls back on the edge of your bed. He whines high in his throat, almost a moan. You panic, placing your finger over your lips and shushing him. He’s too loud. He’s going to get you caught. With a boy in your room. Without a doubt, your parents would murder you and bury you under the house. His head whips to you. Eye(s) throwing daggers.

“Did you just shush me?”

Fuck. Why does his voice sound so good? It’s groggy and feels like drinking Coca Cola. Butterflies form in your stomach. You push your chin into your chest and nod. Not wanting to say much else, knowing that if you do you’d expose yourself. Your eyes fall to his once white shoes. His jeans rolled up twice around his ankles. The material tattered at the end. He notices that you’ve shrunken into yourself. He feels at home. Not seeing you for months, but you haven’t changed a bit. It’s a relief to not see something defiled. He huffs, chest being stabbed with every breath. It’s quiet other than his fragile breathing. You’re as quiet as a mouse. Just observing him, trying to figure out how to fix the issue. To make him feel better. The room holds still, almost like time has frozen in place. With Steve. The idiot decides to break the trance. Turning around to attempt to lift himself off the floor. The springs of your bed croak as he uses it for support. You quickly come to his aid. Your hands come to his shoulders, helping him stand.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

You murmur, pulling him to his feet. His jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth together. Restraining himself to not just scream in agony. His feet shuffle as you push him to the chair by your desk. He falls with a choked gasp. His hand goes back to his waist, pushing. You wonder if there’s a nasty bruise forming, or worse, if he broke his ribs. Your blood runs cold. Steve looks to the side. Above your desk was a mirror, one he wished he hadn’t seen. His eyes flicker over his face. He doesn’t recognize himself. Gashes littered across his face that it hides his true form. Why does he feel so ugly, like he’s a monster? He wants to cry. You chew on your lip as you rack your brain for answers. Among the conspiracies, you can’t find a definite answer. His clothes are drenched with crimson and brown. You can’t see the major wound that’s causing such damage. The only way to find out was to get him to shed the top layers. You blush before you pull on the lapels of his jacket. The bastard smirks. The tear in his bottom lip stretching.

“Trying to get me out of my clothes, already? I mean, I’m all for it, but I think foreplay is pretty hot.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Stomach flipping at his jest. Steve wants to sleep with you? Is that what he was insinuating? It’s comical how outrageous it was. He didn’t even bat an eye at you walking by you in the halls, and now he wants you? It made little sense. You shoved your foolishness deep down. Remembering that you’re simply here to help, not to make matters worse. You shake your head.

“I’m trying to see where you’re bleeding.”

He nods briefly, face falling to complete stoicism. He leans forward, peeling off his jacket. His hands were shakier than when he was outside. Was he nervous? You put it that he was in shock. Your eyebrows knit together as you see him fully. Dark pools are scattered everywhere, not just one definite spot. His hand falls back to his side.

“I can tell you one thing sweetheart, I don’t think there’s a place I’m not bleeding.”

He smiles, blood clotting around his teeth. He’s stupid, such a fuck boy with no shame. You should’ve known that’s all that he wanted from you. There’s no right for your thighs to dampen and your pussy to flutter at the pet name. His dark eyes roam over your body. Loose tee and baggy shorts, hiding the curves he knows you have. You look at ease, well before he interrupted. He likes the look of it. He wonders why he never paid you any attention. Such a sweet thing that he never gave the time to. He feels like a dork about it. But with the way you’re looking at him reminds him of his mother. Hands on hips, and face cut to stone. Your face mixed with a scowl and utmost concern. As he breathes, he can feel that broken rib poke into his palm. One thing is for sure, is that this is going to be a night he’ll never forget.

~~~

About every medical bandage in your premise was on Steve. After you had cleaned him up with a warm rag. And after a thousand more sexual innuendos, he looks better, to say the least. Instead of cuts, his skin was now littered with bandaids. Two gauze rolls are wrapped around his waist. (The stupid bastard wouldn’t admit to it hurting, so you had to push a finger there. You seethed the moan and the way it made you feel after.)

He breathed shallowly, each breath felt like his lungs were being punctured. But you were more curious, scattered on his bare chest, that trailed down his stomach and under the waist of his blue jeans. When did that happen? Numerous times at his basketball practices did he took his shirt off. But when did he become so masculine? It was impossible for you to place your finger on it. You tried your hardest to not gawk. You dabbed the now cold rag on his most likely broken knuckles.

Swiping the dried and new blood off the bone. You’re sat, legs crossed by the outside of his leg. His hand dangles off the rest. You made a distinction to not acknowledge the dull throb between your thighs. To not stare at the round, and might you add a prominent bulge in the front of his jeans. He gazes down at you. Completely and utterly amazed. He was a dick to you, but he also knew that you had a heart of gold and the people he used to know wouldn’t have helped him. Which is why he came to you. Such an intelligent girl wasting her time with him. His lips quirk up into a smile. He ignores the sharp twist of pain in his face. He trails his longest finger over your face.

“Wanna know something?”

You don’t look up, but you nod. Too concentrated on wrapping another gauze around his thick fingers.

“I heard this thing. It’s where if you kiss where the person is wounded, it’ll heal faster.”

You snort a laugh, and his smile widens. His gums turned red. Fuck, you’re pretty. You grin as you reach over his lap to the scissors on your desk. You stand, cutting off the excess tape before tying it around his hand. Placing the scissors back down, you face him. You pout, faking sadness.

“Awh, does big bad Stevie have a boo boo?”

He rolls his eyes, his smile dipping into a frown. Those eyes that hold so much horror behind them look you up and down. He scrunches his nose once they come up to your face.

“Yeah, but this nice girl fixed me up, though.”

Your hands fall to your hips again. He reaches out, his fingers brushing the sides of your thighs. Your skin burns under your shorts from the hint of his touch. Your cheeks flush.

“You’re smoother than I remember, Harrington.”

You speak his surname as a degrading term, like an insult. It shoots him in his heart. He thought you were warming up to him. Evidently, he was wrong. It makes his heart thump hearing your voice talk to him in such a way, it also makes his stomach hurt to be talked down like that. His ego is a flip of a coin. His eyes flick to your chest, then back to your eyes. His tongue sweeps over that cut on his bottom lip.

“You’re prettier than I remember.”

His voice is faintly above a murmur, but you hang on his words, blushing to the floor. He grins, spreading his knees far apart. Your breath stills as his hands flatten on the sides of your thighs. He pulls gently. Guiding you between his legs. He leans, wrapping his arms around your waist. His chin pushed on your stomach to look straight up at you. His eyes shine mischievously. Your hands fall on his shoulders.

“You’ve helped me so much princess”

He says floored. And he means it. You have helped him tremendously. He presses a kiss on your shirt.

“How can I repay you?”

He watches you think. He cannot realize that you’re stunned. Incapable of thinking. You could make him do anything in the world, yet you don’t. You’re not entirely sure what came over you, but you push him back. His back pressed against the seat. He thinks that he might’ve offended you before you slot yourself on his thighs. Each leg over his. Sitting only a few inches away from the throbbing head of his growing cock. He hisses as the sound of a crack is heard. You immediately jump back on his knees. Seating yourself, the farthest away from his chest. He shakes his head, locks swaying on the mop of hair. He grabs the backs of your thighs, pulling you to where you once were. You’re close to him. Actually looking at him. He takes a moment to just admire you. Why hadn’t he done this before? His heart aches.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.”

He kisses the side of your neck and you can feel the roughness of the scab forming on his lip. His lips feel plump and soft, minus the abrasions. It’s pecks, not the long press that you long for. He peppers them up to your ear.

“I’m yours.”

He groans as you move your hips along his clothed bulge. Your hands cup the sides of his neck. Pulling him back to slot your lips onto his. His grip tightens on your thighs. You can taste the bitter copper of his blood entering your mouth. You farther the taste of him more. Delving your tongue into his mouth. He accepts it, not trying to rival you. He just lets you take a hold of him. To play with him, however your little heart desires. Your fingers trail to the back of his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. His fingers dance along the end of your shirt. As he moans into your mouth. You make the quick decision that he’s very vocal, which is your demise. You part. Each party heaving with each breath, Steve more so. You blink your eyes open, finding his still closed with swollen lips parted.

“Parents. Home.”

Is all you can say, huffing. He nods. His hand leaves your thigh to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The bandage is a contrast to the softness of his fingers.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He intones. His eyes water as he remembers how he sent his goons to taunt you. He just couldn’t get attached, especially not after Nancy. But after almost dying has made him reconsider a few things. You weigh heavy on his lap, comforting.

“Wish I would’ve told you that sooner.”

Your eyes flow down to his lips. Then back to his eyes, you blush. You wiggle to slot your hips on his. Moving your hands to cup his scarred cheeks. You push your forehead onto his, noses brushing.

“It’s okay. You can tell me as much as you like now.”

You smile, pushing strands off his warm forehead. He nods.

“Sorry about being a dick, too.”

Your smile widens.

“Maybe getting your ass beat wasn’t such a bad thing.”

You quip, and he leans back. His eyes squinted.

“Touché.”

He nips the bottom of your lip. You jerk your hips up and he moans. His hands go to your ass and he’s squeezing the globes.

“You feel overdressed.”

You press a quick kiss to his lips.

“What’s stopping you from doing something about it?”

His eyebrow pops up at your suggestion. You can feel his cock twitch under your core. Even at the heavenly idea, he doesn’t want to ruin his redemption.

“You sure? You don’t have to. I’m pretty into the thought of kissing you right now.”

You move back, lifting your shirt over your head. Your skin feels like lava. The only thing separating him and your breasts is your bra. Which is his favorite color. His mouth almost hangs open, his tongue feels too big for his mouth. It’s like the first time he’s ever seen a woman’s bare skin.

“Oh.”

He sighs, almost in disbelief. You smile brightly, placing your hands back onto his shoulders. You tilt your head to the side.

“Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad one?”

His hands travel to your hips, above the elastic band of your shorts.

“Definitely good.”

His head mimics yours, moving to press his lips back onto yours. Licking and lapping drinking you in. His hands go to your back. Up to the band of your bra. Talented fingers unclasping the metal. He takes the bands down your arms until you take it off yourself. It falls somewhere behind him. The warm contact of his chest on yours is mind-boggling. His arms wrap around your midsection, hugging you to him. Your nipples are just a smidge above his. He kisses your cheek, then everywhere he can reach your face. It’s hasty, the quick pecks he gives. He’s mapping out every feature of yours.

“Feel so good.”

His lips brush your temple.

“Wanna feel you.”

You whisper, and he nods.

“This is going to be a little awkward, but if you’re willing to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

He jests to himself when you lean back. You ignore that his eyes linger on your nipples as he speaks.

“Then you can have me all you want?”

You kiss his jaw.

“All I want?”

He nods, his hands roaming your back.

“My performance might be a bit off, but yeah.”

You smile, laughing, softly slapping his chest. He groans. You give him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry.”

He shrugs.

“Honestly, at this point, I can't really feel it.”

You pull off his lap. Shimming off his thighs to ease the pain. Anxiety tingles over you. You hunch over, fingers hooking in your shorts and panties. Slowly pulling them down your legs. His eyes bulge out of his head at the sight of your bare cunt. Naked before him. His cock almost tore through his jeans. He’s surprised the amount of blood pumping through his veins doesn’t pour out of the cuts.

“I-, you’re fucking gorgeous, sweetheart.”

You feel shy and meek, but giddy to be admired and put on display for him. You wonder if he says that to all the girls he’s with, or if it was just reserved for you. It twists your heart painfully.

“Can you do me a favor, pretty girl?”

You nod.

“Can you help me get out of these jeans?”

You’re not entirely sure if it’s a ploy or not. But you squat between his legs, on your knees. Unbuttoning the brass button and zipping down the clasp. Your breath stands still, hair on end. You’re really doing this? About to perform the thing, wild dreams are made off. You suck in a breath. Your heart plummets as you are met with pale skin and thin veins. Of course, the smug scoundrel doesn’t wear underwear. You hook your fingers in the loops of his jeans. You bite on your cheek to stifle a moan. He lifts his hips up to your face to wiggle the material down his waist. He almost springs from the confines of his jeans.

His cock hitting his stomach with a damp smack. He winces, the veins pulsing on the pink crown. Beads of pre dribble down the sides. You don’t want to admit that your mouth floods at the sight. The need to have your mouth filled, let alone your weeping cunt. He grabs the rests to pull himself off the chair, so you can pull the denim down his thighs. He falls back down with a weighty sigh.

As the article wraps around his ankles, you run your hands flat along the tops of his thighs. His hips jerk up, spreading the smear of his arousal on his abdomen. It shines along the thick patch of hair that runs down to his cock. You stand after he begins to thrust limply into the air. He’s so pretty, perched up on your chair and rutting into the air. Imagining being hugged with your tight cunt. He’s battered and achy, but still wanting. He stares- hawks at you with dopey big eyes.

Committing your curves to memory. Soon it will be through muscle. A routine that he’ll never get out of his head. He shivers, reaching his long arms out. He opens and closes his beaten hands, resembling grabby hands. He urges you to come to him with each grab. You obey with a small smile. Walking into his trap. He pulls you into his lap. His bare cock pressed between your mound and his stomach. Your arms wrap around his shoulders. Playing with the hair by his ears. Twirling around your indexes, feeling the thickness and sticky hairspray. The pungent smell of a styling cream. It doesn’t help the messiness of the way it sticks to him.

“Wanna know a secret?”

He mumbles, kissing your collar bone. You tilt your head to the side, allowing him to further his kisses.

“Mhm.”

“All those times when I bailed on lessons, I was too afraid that I’d fuck up and admit I had feelings for you.”

You’re taken aback by what he said. Your fingers are still in his hair as his kisses deepen. His declaration made your mind incoherent, running a million thoughts per second. The Steve? Had feelings for you? It seems so wild to be true, but here he is admitting them to you. As you attempt to find the words, your mouth opens and closes. His kisses stop across your chest.

“It’s funny because I knew that it wouldn’t work.”

He’s right, you’re going to college in an exceptional state. Living a life that’s completely the opposite of his. It shouldn’t work, but opposites attract. You feel the strongest desire to at least try. How bad could it be?

“You know, I thought you would be smarter than what you used to be.”

In all honesty, you really thought that he would be. But you put too much faith in him, obviously with the state of things. His mouth falls open, eyes widening.

“Rude.”

You shake your head, smiling wide, showing him pretty teeth.

“No, but do you know what is rude? You thinking that I wouldn’t be into you.”

It’s silent other than his hammering heart on yours and the throb of his cock. He had an internal battle, debating the circumstances before he had an epiphany.

He smashes his lips to yours. Full of clanging teeth and tongue. It’s a complete contrast to the first time you had kissed him. He was laid back, letting you test the waters. But now he’s the one who’s eager, finding the caves in your mouth that make you mewl. Almost as easy as combing his hair back. You couldn’t keep up with his fervent pace. Nonetheless, he continues to pour all of his emotions into you. His hands paw at your ass before grabbing. He lifts you to hover over his cock.

He gives you a knowing look and, without speaking, you lower your hips. He spears you open; the head edging into your walls. Stretching you out for him. It’s slow, and he’s dragging through your walls as you sink. A shared whine between both of you escapes. One of relief, similar to slipping into a hot bubble bath. It washes all the feelings of insecurity and distraught away and replaces them with pleasure. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck. Kissing the junction, then sucking. When you fully sink down, sitting on his lap, his balls are a reminder as to how hard he is. How close he is to rupturing. He kisses the tops of your breasts, staring up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your pussy flutters around him, and he moans. Pulling you flush to his chest. He groans as the bone in his side threatens to pop. As he tries to thrust into you, he winces every time he moves. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, you cup his face. Looking into his clouded over eyes, you give him a warm smile.

“Let me take care of you.”

He frowns deeply. Sighing.

“Haven’t you already?”

He asks sincerely. You’ve given him the galaxy, yet you want to give him more? His heart bursts as you smirk. You lift your hips up his length.

“Not like this.”

He moans loudly, his hips jutting up. You pepper kisses on his chest. He throbs inside you as your thighs tighten around his. He can feel his thighs become wet as you bounce on his lap. His toes curl as his ball draws up.

“So much for being quiet.”

He smiles a toothy grin. Your hips slow to a roll and your eyes widen. Shit! How could you have forgotten? He grinds into your still cunt. He rubs soothing circles on your thighs.

“Can you do me a favor, sweetheart?”

You nod your head quickly. Willing to do anything in the world for him. His face falls serious. He chews on his lip, tearing the skin farther. His eyes drop from you to the carpet.

“Will you run away with me?”

You heave. It’s quiet, too quiet. You nod a little after a quick debate. Fuck it. Your parents made you get to this level of success because they wanted it. You didn’t care, you’re going to run away with the Harrington boy and it makes you dizzy. Without a word, his eyes fall back onto you. He grabs the backs of your thighs, making your pussy squelch as you bounce once again. Impelling yourself on his length, repeatedly.

A soft rhythmic clap and hushed moans are all you can gather. Your hands thread through his hair, pulling his mouth to yours. You clamp around him. On the verge of your mind-boggling orgasm. Tugging on the locks only makes you swallow his whimpers. You tug and he gives you another. Proving that you can cum from a noise. You go limp and he jerks his cock into you the best he can. Spasming on him, he wraps his arms around your back. Clinging you to him. It’s hot and sticky, skin grinding against skin. One of his hands goes to grab at your hip for leverage. The other goes to the side of your neck. He pulls away from you, giving you air to breathe as he pants. He pushes his forehead on yours. His hand wraps around the base of your throat. Watching your eyes roll back. He squeezes his fingers on the sides. Constricting your breath.

“Treat me so good, f-fuck me so good.”

He has his head on his shoulders. His hair was strewn in clumps. His Adam's Apple bobs. He shuts his eyes tight. Thrusting up into you sloppily. His grip loses on your thigh. Your small hand wraps around the wrist on your throat. He cups your jaw; the gauze tickling your cheek. You pull his thumb to your lips. His brows knit together. He swallows thickly as he pushes the digit behind your teeth, hooking it to your cheek. And he’s done for. He ruts deep into you. Hips off the seat, seated at your cervix. He stays there, gasping for air. You swirl your tongue over his thumb. He resolves back into his achy self. He removed the digit out of your mouth to pull you to his chest. You rest your sweaty forehead on his shoulder. He runs his knuckles over your spine. His other hand is smoothing over your hair. He kisses your head, muttering words of endearment. He’s like a weighted blanket. One of those heating pads you saw in magazines to help with cramps. His lips brush over your ear.

“Now that I think about it, I think I’m in love.”

You snort a laugh, and his nose scrunches up.

“Or in heat.”

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth.

“So mean to me.”

“Oh, whatever!”

You scoff, and he smiles. You pull your head off his chest, staring at him. He cups your cheeks and presses a long and meaningful kiss to your lips. His cock is growing soft in your cunt, but he remains seated. Lost in the kiss, the both of you fail to hear the patter of feet outside your room. Nor the calling of your name. Neither the door opening.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #joe keery #joe keery x reader #stranger things #smut #Steve Harrington x reader fluff #Steve Harrington x reader smut

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overleftdown · 4 months

Text

farleigh analysis part 2, because the first post wasn't enough. this is going to cover all scenes set at oxford university that i find significant to my understanding of the character (this ended up including pretty much every scene with farleigh in it). once again... buckle up.

[0:03:48] farleigh: oh, he's got the scarf. hey, cool jacket! and the tie?

starting off with a banger! this is farleigh's first line, his introduction as a character. this is how the viewers are intended to see farleigh, at least for this portion of the movie. this is what i'd consider an outer-circle perspective of farleigh, how the majority of his classmates understand him as a person. catty and casually rude. it's significant how surface-level and mild this introductory piece of dialogue is. farleigh is pointing out how hard oliver is trying to appear mature and scholarly, because farleigh is too nonchalant to try hard to fit in (haha).

[0:07:10] farleigh: i'm so sorry. got completely lost- hi, nice to meet you. so sorry. tutor: you're farleigh start, i take it. nice of you to join us, finally. you're not a, uh relation of frederica start, by any chance? farleigh: uh, shes my mother. tutor: no! i knew her when i was your age, when we were both here! when she was frederica catton, before she went to america. farleigh: no way! oh my god, i'll tell her! she's gunna be thrilled that i'm being tutored by one of her friends.

and again, an outer-circle perspective. here you can see the supposed influence of farleigh's family title. "when she was frederica catton," signifying the beginning of the end of frederica's social rappour. farleigh is a product of his mother's abandonment of everything the catton's stand for; wealth, coldness, heartlessness. however, from this perspective, the one we've been introduced with, farleigh is still hiding in the ghost of his mother, before she moved, before she had him.

[0:07:48] tutor: not sure we ever spoke. farleigh: ...oh.

HEHEHEHEHE. i giggled.

[0:08:48] oliver: so you're picking apart the style of my essay instead of the substance? that's kind of... farleigh: kind of what? oliver: lazy? farleigh: it's completely valid to debate the rhetoric of an essay. it's not what you argue, but how. tutor: great point. oliver: yeah, especially if you haven't read any of the poems.

i think this dialogue is incredibly fitting for farleigh's character. as in, it represents how farleigh interacts with people at oxford, with the cattons. picking apart the style rather than the substance, because it's not what you argue, but how. using that comparison, oliver pointing out that farleigh clearly didn't read the material is synonymous with farleigh being clueless to how and why the cattons truly tick. this makes farleigh's socializing hollow by nature. whereas oliver... he does his research. he learns how the cattons function, what motivates them, what their dynamics are. he doesn't play into style or rhetoric; he doesn't need to.

[0:13:11] felix: oh, there he is! oliver! ollie! oliver, come here, mate! yeah, come here. come here. what? come here!

farleigh's face visibly drops, and he sits up straight where he's sitting beside felix. he's not disgusted, nor offended. he looks anxious. a few seconds later, as felix says "this is my fucking hero, right here," farleigh is giving oliver the gnarliest look. he's fidgeting with his hands, and you can see him swallow. i think he looks a healthy blend of angry and exasperated. as it's made known later in the movie, felix has a notorious savior complex. farleigh knows exactly what's happening.

[0:14:00] (shots) you can see that, between the last timestamp and this one, farleigh has been displaced to the other side of the table. previously, every single sighting of felix has farleigh glued to his side. standing right next to him. farleigh on the opposite side of the table as felix is very indicative of the very real threat that oliver poses to farleigh's stability.

[0:14:10] farleigh: it's your round, man! oliver: i should go to bed. farleigh: wait, no no no. you can't snake your way out of a round. oliver: i'm not. farleigh: it... looks like you are.

the most important thing about this scene that i'd like to point out is that oliver would not have, and should not have, stayed for his round if it wasn't an intentional plan. the nature of "buying rounds" was made clear and is clear. he reasonably shouldn't have stayed and specifically left when it was his turn to pay. that's gnarly. that's generally just rude.

[0:14:30] felix: farleigh. farleigh: what? felix: just cut him a break, mate. farleigh: what? felix: that round's gunna cost a fucking fortune. farleigh: pub rules, felix.

yes, i understand that farleigh is being intentionally confrontational. but felix consistently falls flat when "combating" the judgmental attitude of his family and classmates. although he did exactly what oliver wanted him to do by paying for the round, he lacks a genuine purpose behind his verbal condemnations. felix wants to believe he is morally better than his family, the people he surrounds himself with. because of this, he lacks passion. farleigh surrounds himself with whoever felix surrounds himself with; he has become part of felix's background noise. he has become another steppingstone to felix's upward climb to righteousness. another blurring, booing voice, antagonizing the people felix protects and defends.

[0:16:09] felix: yeah, well you know farleigh basically grew up with us. oliver: i didn't know you and farleigh were cousins. felix: mmm, my aunt, farleigh's mum, ran away to america when she was 19 to escape the cold-hearted english. ciggie? oliver: eh, i don't smoke. farleigh: dear aunty fred married a lunatic who pissed everything she had up the wall and a fair chunk of dad's money, too, until he had to finally cut her off.

(oliver did know that farleigh and felix were cousins tbh what a liar, can't believe he would lie like that. unbelievable. truly criminal).

at 0:16:10, farleigh watches felix and oliver sitting with each other at a party. this is played behind felix's voice-over, as he tells oliver about farleigh's family history. i find that so emotionally impactful. jealousy is a hard emotion to read on someone's face, but almost always, farleigh just looks sad. i often see him glancing down; this can often mean disappointment, insecurity, deep thought. at 0:16:27, you can see him briefly scrunch his eyebrows together as he watches felix light oliver's cigarette. he looks confused, judgmental, or surprised. the only thing i can compare this to is taking a bite of food that you didn't expect to taste horrible.

i wish we got to see more of farleigh and his mother, or at least what their dynamic entails. we know he asks (begs) james and elsbeth to give frederica money. we know that frederica was either too kind or too weak to cope with her family. we know that she was well-loved at oxford, or at least had some admirers. i find it poetic, that frederica ran from the english, and now her son is running back in place of her. i also wonder about farleigh's dad. there's no mention of him, past this scene; but if he's no longer with frederica, why would she still be cut off by the cattons? are the cattons really that cold to her, or is frederica still married? curiosity, man. i'm about to start making stuff up on the spot.

[0:16:42] felix: well dad, you know, he felt so guilty about the whole thing that he decided that he would pay for all of farleigh's education. oliver: lucky farleigh. felix: oh, fat load of good that's done him. he's been expelled from almost every school in england for sucking off the teachers.

at 0:16:50, farleigh is shown with a woman on his lap. she's more adult than farleigh. i think it's relevant, considering the voiceover.

i think an important word in this dialogue is guilt; it's a strong motivator among the cattons. yet, it's an inconsistent one. because the cattons guilt is so external as opposed to internal, there is a threshold at which their guilt feels resolved. they just have to convince themselves that they are charitable and therefore good. there is no real understanding of love, and what comes with it. there is no intrinsic need to support their family, simply because they are family.

i don't know what to say about farleigh and his relationship with authority. clearly, he has an unhealthy attachment to transactional and exploitative relationships. how does that complex interact with his social life? his family life? to live surrounded by money and to surround your life around money creates a need to quantify everything. it means you're trying to understand what you're worth, and what your actions are worth. this can also be a testament of farleigh's character; is he just unwilling to put more effort into school? is he unable to compete with the schools that he's attending through money instead of merits? yes, james is paying for his education, but since when? how long has farleigh attended school in england, and what schools did farleigh attend in america? there's a large difference in education. i digress. i find this detail about farleigh significant and upsetting in a lot of ways, and it would be just as upsetting if he really did just prefer transactional sex over doing his homework.

[0:22:27] (oliver sees felix at the bar without him) and this is where farleigh regains his place next to felix. the framing of the shot specifically includes farleigh and felix, centered together on screen. oxford is the only period in this movie where you can truly consider oliver and farleigh mutual threats. this is the limbo, where both of their minuscule actions could change the course of their relationship with felix. oliver and farleigh are both intimately aware that only one of them can exist at felix's side, only one of them can be felix's accessory. oliver's motivation to be in this position is infatuation. he hates what felix represents and loves felix as an individual. is this the same for farleigh? how much is farleigh motivated by his love for his cousin? how far devolved is their relationship, since farleigh realized he needed to play a game just to be treated with compassion by his family?

[0:26:30] farleigh: oh, nice tux. oliver: thank you. farleigh: wow! it's a rental, right? oliver: yeah- farleigh: yeah. yeah, the sleeves are too long. always check the sleeves! but still, not bad. i mean, you're almost passing. oliver: for what? farleigh: i don't know! a real human boy.

he's so petty, it's hilarious. there's not much to say about the majority of this interaction, other than the fact that farleigh is overcompensating for his own social insecurities. to be expected. i like that last line, though. "you're almost passing for a real human boy." does that have anything to do with oliver's poverty? maybe it's just a jab at his fashion choices. i think it's also safe to say that farleigh finds something legitimately unsettling about oliver. or maybe he really is just prepared to give felix's new project a tough time. there are a few reasons for farleigh to go out of his way to make felix's friends uncomfortable or inconvenienced; almost all of them are petty. venetia does the same. elsbeth, who shares felix's habit of hosting people, seems thoroughly entertained by oliver.

farleigh's oxford era is hard to get a read on. he's truly just... rude. he's also scared. his dynamic during the school year with oliver is so compelling to me, because oliver is still in a place of deep instability. he almost lost felix halfway through the year; he needed a high card to win him back. farleigh doesn't play cards, though. that's one of the biggest differences between the two characters. for all their similarities, the only action against oliver that farleigh seems to have is being mean. oliver is driven by an obsessive ambition to control, interfere, dominate. during the school year farleigh is shown, repeatedly, that he just wants to get through it. he's coasting, truly. he slides right back into place next to felix when the spot opens up, and he stays in the background. again; all style, no substance. no research. the cattons were never a game, to farleigh. they were just an uphill battle. they were his family.

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