#and on top of that they’ve now gone to some other people and are now besties with them and it’s like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

your-averagewriter · 4 months

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“Hearts for a sweetheart.”

Summary: Bumping into a sweet chocolatier evolves into something even sweeter (Timothée Chalamet!Willy Wonka x fem!reader)

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: Kissing, swearing (once I think).

Walking along the street, I’m interrupted by a sea of cheers as a man in an elaborate get-up passes around chocolates and sweets with a strong smile. As he walks through the crowd, people push forward, reaching for the chocolates forcing me forward, almost causing me to fall to the ground.

After nearly tripping over from the force of the crowd, I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to look at the person, steadying myself.

“Are you alright, miss?” The extravagant man asks.

Looking over him I can’t help but smile a little at his top hat and jacket, finding it endearing combined with his gentle nature.

“I’m okay.” I say as he helps me stabilise myself.

“Would you like a chocolate?” He asks with a new kind of smile, a toothy grin as he extends his arm, a tray of chocolates decorating the plate.

“Thank you but I can’t afford your fancy chocolates.” I deny, looking down a little ashamed as the crowds of people still surround us although they’ve quietened down a bit now.

“They’re free. No price for you, or anyone.” He pauses after saying ‘you’, seemingly forgetting the rest of his sentence.

“Really?” He nods and I reach to take one gently. “Thank you, mister…” I pause, not knowing his name.

“Mr Wonka, chocolatier.” He grins as he tips his hat towards me with a smile.

“Thank you Mr Wonka, the chocolatier.” I smile before seeing him disappear back into the crowds.

I only see him a couple more times as he looks back at me with a smile plastered on his face, his top hat sticking out above the crowds making me chuckle before putting the small chocolate into my mouth, resting it delicately on my tongue.

Closing my mouth, I start to chew the chocolate, truly surprised by the delicious treat. It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. I try to savour it but it’s gone too soon, making me wish it would last forever.

Mr Wonka, a name I would not soon forget, in fact I couldn’t stop thinking about the man: his chocolates, his fashion and most of all his endearing, sweet nature. Walking through the streets, making my way home I ponder whether I would see him again or how. He must have a shop or a stall or something similar, maybe with the other chocolate stores? It doesn’t seem like he’d fit in with those pretentious sellers who seem to have no love for the art of food, let alone chocolate.

After a couple of weeks I had saved up some coins, not enough to get me more than one chocolate I doubt, but it'd be worth it both for the delicious chocolate and to see him again. With my coins in my pocket, I wander through the town centre, keeping my eyes out for the chocolatier but I don’t spot him.

Making it to the palace of chocolate stores I begin to feel the cold nipping at my skin, regretting not bringing my jacket. I walk through the doors, feeling very fancy as I do so, looking at the patterned floors and incredible glass dome roof.

Feeling a slight shiver I hurry along, looking to the stores and suddenly seeing a new store: Wonka. Upon seeing the name I make my way towards the store, taking in the beautiful design and calligraphy.

Walking in I’m instantly taken aback by the extraordinary interior, colourful candy delights disguised as nature causing me to gasp. Frozen, I stand in the door probably looking quite shocked as after a few seconds I feel a tap on my shoulder causing me to turn around, eyes going a little wide at the slight shock.

“Hello miss.” I turn around to see Mr Wonka smiling. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to see you again.”

“You remember me?” I ask, tilting my head slightly confused.

“Of course I do, I only regret that I didn’t ask your name last time we met.”

“(y/n), Mr Wonka.”

“Ah, call me Willy, last names are too formal for me.” He chuckles and I nod before looking around.

“Your store is incredible.” I say, looking around awe-struck.

“Why thank you, would you like a tour?”

“You’ve probably got more important things to do…” I say quietly with a soft smile.

“Nonsense! What could be more important than showing a woman as lovely as yourself around?” He asks with a charming smile. “Now, what kind of chocolate do you like?”

I think about it for a second, realising how long it’s been since I’ve had chocolate, excluding the last time I bumped into Willy. “The normal kind of chocolate?” I say, unsure.

“Normal kind?” He raises an eyebrow playfully. “Milk chocolate?” I nod.

“I think so, the chocolate you gave me last time was delicious, the best I’ve ever tasted.” I smile.

“Thank you, that means more than you realise.” He says softly, a tone of sincerity. “I’ll make you something special.” He grins. “Do you want to look around for a minute? I won’t keep you waiting too long.” He smiles, I nod before he seems to disappear before I even realise.

I walk towards the river watching as the boat goes round and round, the mechanisms seem incredible. Crouching down by the river I reach for a flower, inspecting the treat before taking a tentative bite from the petal. I let out a sigh, the treat tasting even better than I thought it would. Standing back up I take the flower with me, nibbling on the petals as I walk around the store, in awe at all the beautiful decorations.

A few seconds later, Willy pops up from out of nowhere, startling me slightly but with a small box in his hand.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He offers a small smile. He removes the lid from the box revealing a set of three chocolate hearts with delicate piping on top.

“Wow, these are beautiful.” I say, staring at the artwork.

“Hearts for a sweetheart,” He grins, flustering me a little.

“Thank you… How much do these cost?” I ask, trying not to be awkward but failing.

“Nothing, well except that I get to see your reaction, I think you’ll like them. I based them off of the chocolate you had a couple of weeks ago but made them better.”

“Are you sure? I have some coins.” I reach into my pocket, pulling out some coins but fumbling them leading multiple to fall to the ground. “Shit, sorry…” I say quietly before crouching down and reaching for the coins.

Willy does the same helping me pick up the coins as his hand accidentally brushes against mine. We both look up at each other before I look away embarrassed. He holds my hand, turning it over and placing the coins in my hand before folding my hand, covering the coins. He brings my hand up to his face, pressing his lips against my wrist with a small smile.

“Thank you…”

“Don’t worry about it.” He says as we both stand up again, I slide my coins back into my pocket.

He offers me the box and I take one of the three heart chocolates and place it in my mouth.

“Oh my god, you’re a genius.” I sigh, enjoying the chocolate. “These are incredible.”

“Thank you.” He grins, a proud expression on his face. “Would you like anything else? A buttercup? Cotton candy cloud? Cherries? Gummy bears?” He shoots off options one after the other at a quick speed.

“What would you recommend?” I ask, tentatively.

“Please follow me.” He smiles, leading me around the store to a patch of flowers. Crouching down, he plucks a few flowers, matching them by colour and tying them to make a chocolate bouquet before passing it to me.

“It’s beautiful.” I smile. He pulls out one more flower and tucks it behind my ear.

“Don’t worry, that’s a real flower.” He reassures me with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” I say softly.

“They’re chocolate, one’s white, dark and the other milk so you can work out what you like.” He says gently arranging the flowers. “Then you can come back and I can make you some more.” He chuckles. “The more information you can give me, the better the chocolate will taste!”

“Thank you, Willy, but I should get going now, I didn’t realise it had gotten so dark…” I say quietly as I look outside.

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” He shrugs as we walk towards the door and I start to feel the cold breeze against my skin. “Are you cold?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

“A little, I should’ve brought my jacket.” I dismiss with a small smile. “I’ll see you around, Willy.” I say, stepping out of the door and walking away.

About a second later, I hear him speak again. “(y/n) wait!” He says and I turn around as he walks towards me, pulling off his long magenta jacket and sliding over my shoulder.

“Now you’ll get cold.” I chuckle, pulling the coat around me a little tighter.

“I’m okay, I was getting a bit warm anyway.” He smiles before looking behind me into the night. “Can I walk you home?” He asks, sweetly.

“You want to walk me home? I don’t live very close to your store…”

“Even more reason for me to walk with you.”

“Okay, if you’d like to, I won't stop you.” I smile brightly as he walks next to me.

“You know, you look really beautiful when you smile.” He says which only makes me smile more.

“Stop.” I chuckle.

“But it’s true.” He smiles. “You’re truly the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.” He says in a gentle but more serious tone.

“Thank you.” I whisper looking up to him before resting my head on his shoulder as we walk. “You’re really an incredible guy.”

“Ah, I just make chocolate.” He chuckles.

“Really good chocolate.” I smile. “And you make it look really pretty and your shop is incredible. I’ll have to come by more often.”

“I’d like that.” He pauses “May I hold your hand?” He asks gently after a short pause and I reach my hand out to his

Once we reach my home, I turn around to face him.

“This is me.” I smile. “I’m sorry you had to walk so far.”

“It was worth it.” He brings my hand to his face, pressing his lips against my hand again.

“Here, let me get your coat.” I say, beginning to slide the coat off of my shoulders but he stops me.

“Keep it, it gives you a reason to come back and see me again.” He says with a small smirk.

“Sneaky, very sneaky.” I chuckle, letting the jacket rest on my shoulders. “Get home safe.” I smile, as he begins to walk away.

It takes me a few seconds to fight my thoughts off before I call for him.

“Willy?” He turns around to face me, standing about eight steps away.

I walk quickly towards him, pressing my lips against his briefly before pulling away. “I’ll see you in a few days.” I whisper with a soft smile.

“You’re not gonna see me for a few days after pulling that stunt?” He asks with a playful expression causing me to chuckle and nod. “Well, I look forward to seeing you again.” He smiles brightly.

“I won’t keep you waiting too long.” I smile before going inside my house, shutting the door after he walks out of sight. I let out a breath as I have to fight a smile, excited to see the chocolatier again.

AN: I love this movie with my whole heart!

Hope you enjoyed reading!

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ssprayberrythings · 4 months

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our little secret | CL16

charles x female!reader / smau fic

this was a request so thank you anon for providing the idea, i changed some of the detailing ever slightly to fit it more into the social media format but overall i followed the request so i hope i did it justice!

as a bit of a background: you and charles have been together for a few years now, but nobody knows because they’ve kept their relationship secret from the f1 community and private from anyone who follows you. everything is going great until photos of you and charles on vacation get leaked. normally you’d deny it or ignore it but it was very obviously charles in the pictures which cause fans to go crazy, wanting to know everything ultimately resulting in you and charles deciding to go public and hoping for the best. oh and the request included having other drivers on the grid having gone through recent breakups which was another reason charles liked that your relationship was private.

warnings: none, just pure fluff and charles being a simp for his girlfriend !!

yourusername posted on their instagram

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life recently ⭐️🫶🌸

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user1: y/n i still cant believe we haven’t figured out who your partner is, its been atleast a couple years

user2: at this point, i don’t even care who it is, as long as she’s happy

yoursister: awe the flowers, he’s the sweetest

╰ yourusername: i know !

user22: one day we’ll find out…i hope

╰ user17: we can only hope

yourbestfriend: i love that youre happy but i don’t enjoy third wheeling, does he have any single friends he can atleast bring along 🥲

╰ yourusername: sorry..pretty sure all his close friends are in relationships 🫣

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who do i give these flowers too

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fanofleclerc: YOU CAN GIVE THEM TO ME

f1fan: ILL TAKE THEM OFF YOUR HANDS CHARLES

user30: how is this man single ???? he’s so boyfriendcoded

landonorris: i’d prefer literally anything else but i guess you can give them to me

╰ charles_leclerc: ill pass

f1: we’ll take them for you charles, im sure someone in the paddock would like them

yourusername posted on their story

caption: he loves me i swear..😉

*replies disabled*

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enjoying the sun whenever i can

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fanofcharles: hes so beautiful wow

charlesleclercfan_: imagine running into charles leclerc while he’s shirtless? id pass away

pierregasly: photo creds would be nice..

╰ charles_leclerc: you didn’t take the photo ?

╰ pierregasly: yes but i was behind the camera offering support, its basically the same thing

f1fan: pierre and charles’ friendship is top tier

╰ liked by f1

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me and everyone’s favourite man hit the town 🍸

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yourbestfriend: its giving old money, i love it

╰ liked by yourusername

user20: im sure whoever he is, is a gorgeous man

user12: i may not know who he is but i aspire for these vibes

yoursister: the hand placement is everything

╰ liked by yourusername & yourbestfriend

user44: whoever he is, he was raised right, that hand placement says everything and him holding y/n’s heels, god has favourites

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hikes at sunset >

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charlesleclercfan_: omg charles

charlesleclercfan_: i think my heart just stopped

f1fan: he knows what he’s doing, he has to

user33: brb finding the strength cause this photo makes me weak

user2: he looks so happy

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my two favourite people 🫶

tagged: @yourbestfriend

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user2: mystery man once again

user14: the way they go on runs together

yourbestfriend: the only time i’ll gladly be a third wheel..i love a good walk/run at sunset

╰ yourusername: i know how much you love your sunset runs

user12: couples that run together, stay together

╰ liked by yourusername

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caption: my whole 🌎

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yourbestfriend posted on their story

caption: i once again find myself third wheeling..@yourusername

╰ yourusername: atleast you could walk away when you wanted..

╰ yourbestfriend: not the point..but tell charles thank you for paying for me aswell

╰ yourusername: will do 😅

charles_leclerc posted on their story

caption: enjoying some local art before racing starts again

*replies disabled*

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gonna miss watching the sunrise in the morning and the sunset in the evening with you 🥺

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user3: wait where is he going

user23: awe, i hope everything’s okay and they haven’t broken up

╰ user4: i think mystery man has to leave, but they’re still together

yourbestfriend: mom and dad..fr

╰ liked by yourusername

user44: wherever mystery man has to go, i hope he comes back soon

“Merci mon amour” You smiled as he situated himself next to you in bed. Having been dating now for almost 3 years, you had picked up on french terms and were able to have small conversations only speaking French with Charles

“I posted you on instagram” you told him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders pulling you closer into him but being careful not to spill the drink in your hands

“Oh what did you post? My phones charging” he explained as you unlocked your phone and showed him the post you made for him “You’re now being referred to as mystery man” you chuckled.

Out of all the names people had given him throughout the years, this was definitely your favourite. Charles also chuckled when he heard the name that was given to him

“Can I ask you something?” Charles asked after a few seconds of comfortable silence passed between the two of you

“Of course, what’s up?” you asked after taking a small sip of your tea “Do you ever think about going public with our relationship?” He followed up

You turned to face him fully “Of course, mon amour but we both agreed it was better this way” You reiterated the promise you made early on in your relationship

“I know but I hate that I cant comment on your posts or even post you myself” he sighed “I want to keep you safe but I also want the whole world to know you’re mine and I’m yours” he finished.

“I know it’s not fair” you exclaimed while running your fingers through his hair, something you did for him when he was stressed or feeling anxious “I love you all the time though regardless if you post me or not you know that. Right?” You asked him

“Of course I do” he told you in response closing his eyes feeling relaxed “One day we’ll go public. Im making you that promise” he told you opening his eyes again

You smiled at him “Sounds like a beautiful promise” you responded, leaning in to kiss his cheek “As much as I would love to spend the rest of the night talking with you, you have to be at the airport early tomorrow” you reminded him as you stopped playing with his hair, to turn and put your mug on the bedside table next to your side of the bed, Charles putting his own mug on the table next to his side

“Im gonna miss you” he told you when you were both situated in bed, the only source of light coming from the evening sky outside “Not as much as I’m gonna miss you” you told him, snuggling into his side while his arm pulled you closer to him.

Even if you had been dating for awhile, the start of the race season was always a struggle, neither of you wanting to be apart for long periods of time but it was moments like these that you held close and savoured until the next time you could be this close again.

yourusername posted on their story

caption: my happy place 🎨

╰ charles_leclerc: babe i miss you already and its only been a few days

╰ yourusername: i know but soon you’ll be busy with media events, qualifying, racing and the time will go by quicker, i promise my love

╰ charles_leclerc: facetime tonight so i can see your beautiful face ?

╰ yourusername: of course ❤️

yourusername posted on their story

caption: now whose third wheeling..😠 @yourbestfriend

╰ yourbestfriend: oh hush up, this was only one time compared to how many times i third wheeled you and driver boy

╰ yourusername: okay fair point…also driver boy? wait till i tell charles that one 😂

more replies..

╰ charles_leclerc: omg since when did y/bf/n get a boyfriend? i want all the details

╰ yourusername: i’ll tell you everything on our facetime call, its a pretty cute story of how they met

╰ charles_leclerc: okay but not as cute as when we met? right?

╰ yourusername: oh never, we have the ultimate cutest first meet story 🤭

charles_leclerc posted on their instagram

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feels good to be back 🏎️

tagged: @scuderiaferrari

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scuderiaferrari: looking forward to a great season !

╰ liked by charles_leclerc

f1fan: HE LOOKS SO WELL RESTED AND HAPPY, FERRARI YOU BETTER DO CHARLES JUSTICE THIS SEASON

f1: as if we weren’t already excited for the new season !!

╰ liked by charles_leclerc

charlesleclercfan_: IM SO EXCITED

charlesleclercupdates: THIS IS HIS SEASON, I CAN ALREADY FEEL IT

Charles was standing with the other drivers, whenever the new season started they always had to do a bunch of media and although some drivers may hate how childish some of the antics were, overall it’s always a nice time getting to be in the same place as everyone and not be competing for once.

Charles turned to George and Pierre who were in conversation with Carlos and Lando. Somehow they had gotten on the topics of relationships, Lando having told everyone that the girl he was seeing at the end of the previous season before the break, wasn’t in the picture anymore.

“Aw mate I’m sorry” Charles told him “Its okay, we weren’t anything serious” Lando told him, seeming to be completely fine with the outcome. “Carlos how are you and your lady?” Lando asked Carlos taking the attention off of him

“Ehh, its alright” Charles’ teammate answered the question directed at him “We barely talk and now with racing starting, I don’t see her sticking around much longer” he explained his current situation.

To Charles it seemed as though everyone who had been relationships or atleast talking to someone, now had no one which made him a feel a bit guilty as he had been in a 2 year long relationship that none of them knew of.

Later in the day, the guilt in Charles stomach only grew when he somehow found out 3 more drivers on the grids long term relationships had ended. He was feeling unnerved because it seemed as if there was some sort of relationship ruiner going through the paddock and he didn’t want to be the next victim.

That night, he called you up, for a moment forgetting about the time change but remembering its only a small change. You answered after a few rings, you had your painting scrubs on indicating you had been working on a new piece of art

“Hi mon amour” you exclaimed happy to see your boyfriend “I was just in the middle of painting, let me just take my scrubs off so I can move to the couch” You explained, Charles nodded his head acknowledging you

“Okay tell me how everything went today, I want to hear it all” you started talking again once you were situated on your couch. Charles started telling you about his day making sure to include what he learned about his fellow racers, which only caused you both to feel content keeping your relationship to yourselves.

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caption: disconnecting to enjoy the serenity of camping 🏕️

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old photos of charles leclerc with an unknown female leaked. reports say this was last year during the summer break, which brings up the questions of who is she? were they dating here? if yes, are they still dating? everyone wants to know.

*comments disabled*

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more leaked photos of charles with this mystery woman. who is she? i know im not the only one dying to know

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user11: OH MY

f1fan: CHARLES MY DUDE WHAT IS THIS

f1updates: does anyone have any idea on who she is

╰ user15: no clue

user3: she’s pretty from what ive seen

user22: i need to know everything

ferrarifan: what i would give to have been a fly on the wall when charles found out these got leaked

Charles was resting in his drivers room. He was trying to mediate which meant he had his phone silenced. This was something you started doing with him when he would get in his head about racing and it helped him regain his focus especially during the moments when he was to hard on himself.

He had been in here for probably 30 minutes before there was a rapid knock on the door “Charles, its Carlos can I come in?” his teammate asked from the other side

“Yeah” Charles answered. Carlos opened the door and stepped into the room “Have you been on instagram?” Carlos asked holding his phone in his hand

“No why?” Charles was confused, what was so important on there that had Carlos wondering of his activity on the app “You should see this” Carlos told him while passing him his opened phone.

When Charles looked down and saw what he saw, he felt his heart stop. There you and him were on his boat, last summer. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He scrolled through his tagged and it was flooded with the same pictures posted by various accounts

“This isn’t good” he mumbled to himself as he passed Carlos his phone back so he could pick up his own phone. He went to go text you immediately when he remembered you had told him, you and your best friend were going camping for a few days which meant you wouldn’t have reception until you got back home.

He opted to still text you something rather than nothing, that way you would see his message once you turned your phone back on and would give him a call.

“Can I ask who she is?” Carlos asked after a few moments of silence “Shes my girlfriend. We’ve been together now for almost 3 years” Charles answered his friends question, figuring the secret was out now and there was no point in lying.

“Oh wow, you’ve kept this going for that long and its just now coming to light. Thats impressive” Carlos told him

“Yeah we decided early on to keep it between us” Charles sighed “We were planning on going public eventually but I guess the public beat us to it”

Carlos just gave his teammate a sympathetic nod, there wasn’t anything he could say in the moment but he could still be there for his friend.

A few days after this, when you were on the drive back to your place, you turned your phone back on, having a few texts from Charles. One that stood out, read ‘Babe give me a call when you can. I have to talk to you about something’ the text from Charles read.

You weren’t sure what this could be about so you didn’t wait to dial his number once you were in the comfort of your apartment. After a few rings, Charles answered, asking you how camping was and catching up before moving on to talk about what happened while you were offline.

That night you and Charles had a long conversation on what you both wanted to do in this situation and after some back and forth, finally came to a decision regarding your relationship that you both hoped you wouldn’t regret down the line.

yourusername posted on their story

caption: he’s back ♥️

╰ yourbestfriend: happy anniversary to you two:)

charles_leclerc posted on their story

caption: when she makes you breakfast 😍

╰ maxverstappen1: WAIT ‘SHE’ ??

╰ carlossainz55: AW

╰ landonorris: soft launch?

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i guess after 3 years, my mystery man isn’t a mystery anymore.

happy 3 years mon amour 😘

tagged: @charles_leclerc

comments have been limited

charles_leclerc: i love our love

charles_leclerc: 3 years into it, a lifetime to go

╰ liked by yourusername

yourbestfriend: so happy for you both 🥹

╰ liked by yourusername

pierregasly: oh wait this is actually cute

╰ landonorris: agreed !!!!

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hard launching because i’ve wanted to post my girl since i met her

joyeux anniversaire, ma chérie 💌

tagged: @yourusername

comments have been limited

yourusername: i love you

yourusername: falling asleep on you > falling asleep on the bed

╰ liked by charles_leclerc

f1: we’re happy for you:)

maxverstappen1: 3 YEARS? WOW

maxverstappen1: happy for you dude

carlossainz55: bring her to the races so we can all meet her !!

╰ liked by yourusername & charles_leclerc

i hope you enjoyed this one. im trying to get more into including actual pieces of writing so hopefully for this one, everything made sense. as always feel free to leave any comments or you can make your own request, up to you! ♥️

#ssprayberrythings x formula one #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #charles x smau #formula one #imagines #x reader

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bit-odd-innit · 1 year

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They’re about 20 minutes into the movie when Steve feels the familiar dip of weight against his shoulder.

He can’t stop the pulse of fond bemusement that surges through him. After all, Eddie had insisted on picking the movie this week, insisted that it was “an unfathomable travesty” that Steve had never seen it, insisted they had to watch it despite the bruise-colored circles under his eyes, the discreet flex of his hands disguising the tremors he gets when he’s over exhausted. Steve says nothing, lets the movie run, and once Eddie conks out instead of switching to something more his speed, he keeps watching.

The movie’s not Steve’s taste, but it’s not bad. He hasn’t been big into cartoons since he was a kid. The animation is strange yet fascinating, the characters’ movements equal parts natural and off-putting. He drifts in and out of the story, though enough of Dustin and Eddie’s ramblings have sunk in that he’s able to follow along. Whenever a name or location he recognizes pops up he turns to Eddie and says, smugly, “I know what that is.” Eddie replies with a soft exhale that ends in a low hum. His breath skitters across Steve’s throat. Steve shivers.

Eddie’s got this little bank of noises he makes when he’s sleeping. When he crashes after drinking too much, he snores. When he’s asleep but not deep enough to rest, he mumbles—sometimes giggles, too, which is really unsettling if you’re not expecting it. And when he’s dreaming, good or bad, he hums.

They’ve been doing this—whatever this is—for long enough that Steve can tell when Eddie is having a good dream and when he’s having a bad dream. (It’s not weird, he counters to the tiny, horrible Robin voice that lives in his head.) The bad dream hums are low, dredged up from the base of his chest. The good dream hums are high, slipping out from behind his teeth. Steve can’t read music but he took chorus in middle school and he’s hung around Robin while she learned a new piece for band so he’s got an idea of how the note…thingy works. If Eddie’s dream sounds were a song, the good dreams would be at the top of the bar, and the bad dreams would be at the bottom.

Except now, as the movie nears its end, the song changes.

At some point Eddie’s legs had curled up beneath him, his face buried in the join between Steve’s shoulder and neck. Steve can’t hear as much as feel the noises vibrating against his skin. He feels the thrum of bad rising into good, then dipping into something in the middle and holding there. They’re stuck at the center of the stanza (Stanza! That’s what it’s called!) and Steve doesn’t know where to go from here.

“Eddie?”

The arm Eddie is leaning on has gone a little numb, so Steve uses the other to sweep aside the curtain of hair drawn across the side of Eddie’s face, his fingertips grazing his cheekbone. Eddie’s lips part. A new sound, a different sound escapes him. He pushes in close enough for those pink plush lips to press against Steve’s collarbone. Heat curves around the back of Steve’s ears.

“H~eeey.”

He doesn’t want to wake him if this is a good dream. Eddie’s an open book. Eddie’s told him he’s been sleeping like dogshit, that the night terrors have been particularly horrible this week. It’s a joke, a little. The two of them share weird hours. They create bits about how bad things are, how awful they feel about their relationships with people they love, how awful they feel about themselves. It’s fun, until it isn’t. Steve’s seen Eddie’s whole personality swallowed by the wet sand of sorrow. He’s seen him sink into himself and surface with something else, something bright and exuberant and loud and false. If Eddie feels good Steve doesn’t want to ruin it. But if Eddie feels bad—

“Hey.” Steve hooks his palm to rest beneath the ridge of Eddie’s jaw, his thumb pressed into his dimple. “Eddie. Wake up.” Eddie’s eyebrows cinch, a sigh gliding across Steve’s knuckles. His eyelashes flutter, dark and spidery, his lids hanging low over hazy eyes. He blinks, owlish, then tilts up to meet Steve’s gaze with a slow, dreamy smile. “Hi,” he whispers. “Hi,” Steve chuckles in reply.

“W…” Eddie’s mouth works like its full of sunflower seeds; deliberate, purposeful. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Why’dju stop?”

“Stop…what?” He glances to the muted blue static of the screen. “The movie’s over, bud.”

Eddie blinks again, slower. He’s so sweet like this, soft and syrupy, so when he breathes a laugh Steve can’t help but mirror it. “Oh,” Eddie exhales, then leans forward and kisses him.

The hum of Eddie’s dreams are now against Steve’s lips. Those lovely little middle sounds are now inside Steve’s mouth. He swallows them, feels them knife down his throat, wedge between his ribs, twist into the open valves of his heart. He pulls back.

Eddie giggles again. Pouts. “You stopped again.”

“Oh, honey,” The endearment wrenches out of him, involuntary. He smoothes the worry lines out of Eddie’s forehead. “You’re tired, huh?” Eddie makes a non-committal noise. “Okay.” Steve sets his feet and secures his arms behind Eddie’s back. “Okay,” he groans as he lifts him, spins him towards the stairs. “Okay. Time for bed.” Eddie’s still in a half-conscious limbo as Steve navigates him upstairs, mouthing indelicately at any piece of Steve’s skin he can find. It’s untenable, and Steve’s not proud at how he launches Eddie in the direction of his bed, sprints to the en suite to splash cold water on his face before helping him undress. “Take it,” Eddie murmurs when Steve unbuttons his jeans, and Steve needs to sit in the center of the floor for a moment before proceeding. “That’s not what this is.” “Wantchu t’aveit.” Steve shoves him into a pair of flannel pajama pants and stuffs him beneath the sheets. Eddie curves onto himself like a mollusk, and Steve sinks at his hip, brushing his bangs away from his closed eyes. Steve feels himself split down the middle: One part already downstairs; one part already nestled in the contours of Eddie’s body.

“Go back to sleep,” Steve says, and moves to stand. Eddie’s hand closes around his wrist. “Stay?” His eyes flit open, brief, earnest, pleading. “Please, stay.” And, well. They’re going to talk about it tomorrow. They’re going to talk about the movie they didn’t watch, and the moment they half-shared, and the reason its so hard to sleep apart yet so easy to sleep together. Not now. Now Steve shrugs into shorts and a t-shirt, slides in beside Eddie. Now, when Eddie’s limbs tangle around his own, he tugs him closer, lets something deep within himself settle. “Stay?” Eddie asks again. “Go to sleep, honey.”

And he does. And they do.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #my fanfic

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 9 months

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i literally have no idea what this is, or where it came from but here's a thing:

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,043 | rated: M (will be E in next part)

Eddie Munson was not Steve’s bi awakening, okay? He wasn’t.

He just happened to be standing in the middle of Family Video dressed like his bi awakening (and it didn’t help that he already had an embarrassingly huge crush on the guy).

Steve had come out of the back none the wiser to what he was about to see, glancing up from the tape he was carrying for someone who’d called earlier. His eyes met big, clunky, worn-in cowboy boots, long lean legs (and very nice ass–damn, they’ve got one of those stupid bandanas in their back pocket too) in classic Levis so tight they looked like they were painted on, the back of leather jacket (--hold on), and the back of a head of long, wild-looking, sun-kissed, yet still dark hair.

After his seconds-long oogling, Robin, who was chatting with Bon Jovi’s twin at the counter, glances behind him at Steve.

Bon Jovi tries to turn and look back without taking himself off the counter, but when that insane hair of his gets in the way, he shoves up off the counter and spins on one heel.

“Munson? Where the hell’ve you been?” Steve thanks whatever it is up there that the surprise of seeing Eddie again temporarily suspends his frazzled ‘hothothothothot’ thoughts about his friend enough to respond normally.

“Damn, Stevie, been gone all summer and all I get is a ‘The hell’ve you been’?”

“Of course, asshole, you’ve been gone All. Summer.” Steve says, finally getting to the counter himself and dropping the tape on it. He scoops Eddie up in a tight hug, one long won from their month of recovery post-Vecna.

Everything went fine, Vecna was dead, the upside-down sealed away, but they hadn’t all left unscathed. Specifically Steve and Eddie, both of whom ended their spring break from hell nursing bat wounds, and closer than ever before.

Then, after finally graduating, being hailed a hero for “saving” Max and Dustin from the real killer (thank you, suspicious government people), Eddie was hauled out of Hawkins by his Uncle, the former of whom got just enough time for a quick ‘Gotta go, Wayne wants me helping out at the farm this summer,’ before he was gone.

“I told you I would be, Harrington,” Eddie says once Steve sets him back down on his own two feet.

“So what happened? Where’ve you really been?”

Eddie raises a brow, “At the farm. Like I said.”

“Okay, well, excuse me for thinking it may have been the same 'farm' my parents said my childhood dog was sent off to.”

“You think my Uncle was gonna take me upstate to shoot me dead?”

“Obviously not, dumbass, but what other goddamn reason would you, Eddie Munson, have to be on a farm. Like with cows and stuff?”

“Though the sun did you some favors,” Robin cuts back in.

And isn’t that the truth. Up close now (and letting himself look), Steve could see how Eddie’s normally dark hair and pale complexion were now sun-kissed and so well be-freckled that it sent his stomach for another rollercoaster ride.

“Yeah, Munson, you planning on keeping the blond around?” Steve teases, picking up a strand of sun-lightened hair off Eddie’s shoulder and giving it a short tug.

“I don’t know, I’m not really used to how light…”

Whatever Eddie says after that is completely drowned out by ringing in Steve’s ears because Eddie stretches an arm up to paw at the top of his head and he’s wearing a crop top.

He’s wearing a goddamn crop top under his jacket, some band tee that looks like he’d hacked off himself..and are those abs?? God damn he is so fine. It’s not fucking fair. Who does he think he is running around like Steve’s own personal wet dre–

“Holy shit.”

He couldn’t help it. The words just fell out of his mouth.

“H-holy shit, you’ve got abs, Eddie!”

‘Thank you, Robin.’ Steve thinks at her absently since his brain is completely preoccupied..

“Wha–? Oh! Yeah! Check me out, huh?!” Eddie grins wide, lifting his shirt just a bit more to show off the toned expanse of stomach.

Steve’s mouth goes bone dry.

“And that’s not all,” Eddie says. He drops his shirt and shucks the jacket off his shoulders.

His very well sculpted shoulders.

And arms.

And oh god those hands. Steve could hear the soft scrapes of rough callouses against the leather when Eddie threw the garment onto the counter beside him and his only thought was about how they might feel against his skin..

Still beaming, Eddie flexes one, then both arms, his biceps bunching under more tanned skin. “I got a lot of ‘lifting heavy things and putting them back down again’ in over the summer.” he continues, “I’m probably stronger than you now, Harrington.”

“Ha haha, right..yeah. Robin, can you excuse us for a second?”

Steve doesn’t wait for her response before he grabs Eddie around one of those absolutely delicious biceps and hauls him through the store and out the back door.

He lets a grinning Eddie go as soon as they’re through the back door, taking a couple steps away towards the woods behind their building, and trying to calm down with measured breaths.

When he does turn around, Eddie’s stood away from the door, one hip cocked out and his arms crossed across his chest.

The grin on his face has melted down into a smirk though, and the look in his eyes is less teasing and more cautious.

Steve steps back up close to the other man, and literally starts to circle him like a shark. Scanning his eyes up and down Eddie’s body as he does.

“What’s goin’ on Stevie? Looking for some style tips?” he jokes.

Steve doesn’t answer, and starts his second cycle around his friend.

“You know, maybe get rid of some of those polos?” Eddie sounds just a bit more unsure this time.

Steve’s behind Eddie’s right shoulder when he speaks again. “You think you can barge back in after all this time, looking like that,” Steve comes around to stand in front of Eddie again, “And not expect me to react?”

Eddie grins wickedly again, and steps back at the same time Steve steps forward.

“Expect me to not want to devour you whole?”

“You expect me to want that, big boy?” Eddie says as he’s pressed between Steve and the closed back door.

Steve rears back immediately, “Shit, Eddie, I’m sor–”

“‘Cause I do.” Eddie grabs hold of Steve and spins them around, pressing the younger man back against the door instead. “Ohhh boy, do I want that.”

Steve groans as Eddie slots their hips together, “You really are a big boy, aren’t you sunshine?”

“The things I’m gonna do to you..” Steve growls out, Eddie’s jaw snapping open with his words.

They’re both startled away from the back door when Robin bangs on it, “You’ve got five minutes to get back in here before I drag you back in! It’s Friday and we’re about to get busy!” she yells through the door.

He hears her converse squeak on the tile inside the door as she heads back to the front, then chances a look at Eddie.

He looks as red as Steve feels, from the bit of his face he can see from behind the hair he holds over it.

“Eddie–”

“It’s cool, Harrington,” he wheezes out a dry laugh, glancing over at him, “Better get in for the rush before Robin comes back.

He reaches for the handle again, but is stopped short by a hand on his wrist.

“Listen, Eddie.” Steve says, giving the other man’s arm a soft tug to get him to turn around. “I may have gotten a little…over enthusiastic…”

Eddie’s face scrunches up in a weird way.

“No! Not in a bad way, unless you weren’t as into it as I was–doesn’t matter! Point is, I may have gone a little crazy, but I wasn’t faking it.”

“I don’t think guys can fake it, Steve-o.” Eddie jokes softly, a small smile on his face.

Steve chuckles just as soft, “Shut up man, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“I think you do.”

“I dunno Steve," Eddie shrugs sarcastically, "You’re quite an enigma.”

“Okay, fine, here’s it spelled out for you: I am super into you.” Steve puts up a finger to stop whatever it is Eddie was about to say, “Hold on– I am bisexual, have been for a while and would like to try this..with you. If you want.”

“You gotta be more specific on what ‘this’ is, sunshine.” Eddie steps close to him once again.

Steve smirks, walking Eddie backward to the door again with both hands on his waist. Once he’s got him pressed back against the warm metal, he scoops the hair away from Eddie’s ear and holds it out of the way with a hand on the back of his neck.

He leans in, whispering right into Eddie’s ear. “I want to take you apart, Eddie.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath and Steve can feel the man’s heart hammering against his own chest.

“I want to suck you down, eat you out, and fuck you into next Tuesday.” He states, nipping on his earlobe for good measure before pulling back.

Steve takes in Eddie’s flushed face, his eyes blown out they’re almost completely black, his chest heaving.

“I’d also like to totally romance you and date the fuck out of you, but…” he shrugs, grinning as Eddie smacks his chest lightly with a laugh of his own.

“I’m serious though, Eddie. I want this.”

Eddie’s smile falls slightly. “You sure about the whole dating thing, Harrington? You know you can’t date me for real..like in public and shit.”

Steve shrugs, “I know, but… I don’t think I’d survive something casual with you, Eddie.”

Eddie lets out a breath like he’d been punched.

He takes back in a deep breath, then pulls Steve flush to him again.

“I think that sounds amend—-”

Eddie’s forehead smashes into Steve’s nose when Robin shoves the door open behind Eddie.

“Damn! I knew the door was a bad idea.” Steve says, his voice coming out nasally from where he’s pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“Time’s up, Dingus, get your fruity butt inside.”

Eddie chuckles after her, leading Steve inside. “You shouldn’t tip your head back, lean forward and let it drain out.”

“Ugh, you sure? I’ll get blood all over me,”

“I’m sure, sweetheart, I’ve had a few bloody noses in my time.”

“Here,” Robin says once they reach the counter.

Steve takes the offered tissues, and soaks up the small trickle of blood.

“You still wanna date me if my nose is crooked?” he asks Eddie, who’s (sadly) shrugging his coat back on.

He pretends to think for a moment. “Sorry Stevie, that’s a dealbreaker. Even if it was my forehead what done it.”

“Ugh you’re such a dweeb, I don’t know what you see in him, Steve.”

“He’s hot, okay? And he’s still hot even after he rejected me just now.” Steve states matter-of-factly while shoving a wad of tissue into the one nostril still bleeding.

“You think I’m hot?”

“Very.”

“No, you’re gross. You guys are both gross.”

“Oh Birdie, you should've heard the things he was saying to me outside; all ‘Ooh Eddie, your muscles are so big and so is your hair and also your di—’”

“OKAY! That’s enough of that!” Steve cuts him off, pushing the still grinning Eddie toward the door, then, a softer: “Yours or mine after I’m off?” once they’re at the door.

“Definitely yours, unless you want Wayne to be privy to our shenanigans.”

“Yeah, that’s a no. Also, shenanigans? Really? You’re a super dweeb.” Steve smirks, pushing his boyfr— frien— Eddie out the front door. “I’m off at four, see you at five?”

Eddie fumbles backward over the curb but manages to catch himself, “It’s a date, Steve.”

He watches Eddie climb up into his van, and follows its path down the road and out of sight with a dreamy sigh.

“You still have tissues in your nose, Dingus.”

part 2/2 here | and on AO3!

definitely inspired by this post from @sparrowtapes

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #st #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington having a crush on bon jovi is canon okay?#noelle writes

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macfrog · 9 months

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state-of-the-art sex on fire chapter two

*chants* ceo joel ceo joel ceo joel

part 2 to you shook me all night long!!! massive credit to @whore-4-pedro again for the concept this is SO much fun. work trip coming soon babies!!! masterlist here, ao3 here 💓

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel’s had a rough week at work. you figure you know the perfect way to relieve some of his tension

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) more teasing and touching, oral (m receiving), getting handsy in public + fingering, unprotected semi-public piv sex, creampie, daddy kink, softdom!joel, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, workplace relationship

word count: 6.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

The stretch is too much; he’s all the way in down to his knuckles, curling and then uncurling his fingers deep inside you. Your hips are slowly circling by instinct, rutting against his hand as it fucks you, sending fluttery waves of pleasure all over your body. You ball up your fist, nails digging half-moons into the skin of your palm, attempting to fight the tidal wave fast approaching as Joel’s fingers snap harder into you, a third beckoning your orgasm nearer and nearer. You’re there – right where he wants you, almost throwing your head back with the feeling he’s giving you. And then you make the mistake of looking at him, catching that ever so Joel smile when, shielded from the others by his hand, he breathes, “There’s my girl.”

The black mug. Not the one with the gold handle – that’s one of Martha’s. She doesn’t use it much – at least not as much as the one with her granddaughter’s face printed on it – but she once left you with a stack of paperwork to shred all by yourself just ‘cause you made yourself a tea in it.

No. Just plain black all over. No words, no pictures. Plain. Black.

Few spoonsful of coffee into the filter, hard granules sprinkling over the white paper. Close the lid, flick the switch, and then wait for it to brew. Once it’s done, fill the mug almost to the top – until the coffee kisses the bottom of that one chip in the ceramic. No sugar. No sweetener. No nothing.

Just plain black.

“Thanks, darlin’.” Joel takes the mug carefully from your hands as you wander over, then you perch yourself by his side on Martha’s desk. He takes a sip and nods like usual, confirming what you already know.

You make a damn good cup of coffee.

“You’re worth, what, a few hundred million? You can’t buy a better coffee machine?”

“’s wrong with that one?” he asks, mug on his bottom lip.

“Works like it’s from the eighties or something.”

Martha clears her throat behind you both. “I am gonna give you five seconds to explain what you mean by that.”

“I mean…it’s not exactly state-of-the-art, is it?”

Joel’s jaw drops dramatically. His head wobbles like it’s about to implode, hearing what you just said. “You hear that, Martha? We ain’t state-of-the-art anymore, you ‘n me. We’re older ‘n that coffee machine, you know.”

Martha’s shaking her head, clicking away at her computer.

Joel nudges your arm with a soft chuckle and you sigh, turning away to watch the four men in his office; stood an awkward distance apart, small talking, pacing, adjusting their suits. One of them is messing with some trinket on Joel’s bookshelf.

“You think they’re nervous?” you ask, and he laughs from behind you.

“I reckon they’ve a lot to be nervous about.”

“Was it that bad? On Monday?”

Joel had spent the better part of four hours locked in that conference room, right after you two – you know. He was late for lunch by the time he was ushering them out, collars loose, jackets slung over arms. It was probably a good thing you’d tired him out a little beforehand, or he’d have been way more unforgiving than he was.

Three departments in Joel’s company have gone over budget. It isn’t a huge deal. He has the money. Just, he wants the right people in charge of it, and right now…he clearly doesn’t have that. Honestly, you hate to admit it, but it makes sense. You’re kinda on Joel’s side.

He’d given them to the end of the week to come up with action plans, figure out how to undo the mess. This is the end of the week. This is supposed to be the big reveal.

Joel runs a hand through his hair, palm hooking around the back of his neck.

“Wasn’t great,” he mutters.

You knew that much. You’d asked what he wanted to eat as he passed your desk en route back to his office, and he’d waved his hand and told you to order whatever you wanted with his card. When his door closed, you glanced over to Martha, who shrugged, and went back to playing solitaire.

You figured he wasn’t down for more sex. He didn’t reappear until five o’clock, when he walked you down to the street, carrying your jacket for you, and helped you into your cab.

The elevator dings and the brass doors separate, revealing a figure behind.

George Mackley. Short. Stout. Obnoxiously bright red tie. Head of marketing.

He waddles in a hurry toward the three of you, nodding curtly to Joel as he passes. His shaking hand fumbles around the handle of the office door, which he pulls on instead of pushing, and gives an awkward chuckle before rushing inside.

“Fuckin’…finally,” Joel grunts, passing you his mug and standing up.

“Should I order my own lunch again?” you ask, looking up at the man stretching his arms out before you. Like he’s about to go in and punch sense into them all.

You’d probably love him to do that. It’d make for some great sex afterward.

“I’ll be takin’ a lunch break,” he replies, tapping your knee, “whether we’re done or not. Be out at one.”

You nod, and he stalks off to his office. His mug’s still warm in your lap. You’re still staring when he enters the room, watching how all five men immediately file into the couches across from his desk just at the sight of him. Watching how Joel’s lean figure sits back against his desk, his ankles crossed. His arms folded at his chest. His broad shoulders beneath that tight white shirt.

He has that way about him. Commanding, confident. Strong. It’s probably what convinced you to fold, if you’re honest. Sure, he’s kind, and he’s a good boss, all things considered. He’s funny. But he’s cool. It takes a lot to shake Joel.

This meeting? It’s not shaking him. He’s barely even giving these guys enough attention to sit up straight. He’s so damn breezy, so laidback that when he pushes off of his desk and stands up, you give a small gasp.

You lift his mug, drinking from the same spot his lips touched only minutes ago.

“Thought you hated black coffee,” Martha murmurs.

“Stress sipping,” you reply. “Fucking hell…”

Joel’s erratic. Waving his arms, pacing around the room. You swear the men cower as he approaches; shoulders hunched and heads low until he’s past them.

He looks…Yeah. Fuck it. He looks a little shaken.

Martha tuts. “Shouldn’t be idiots with his money.”

“He has money, though,” you offer. “Like, this ain’t that big a deal, is it? He can afford to go over budget sometimes.”

“Joel doesn’t like anyone messin’ with what’s his,” she tells you. “Doesn’t like other hands on his toys. It’s not the overspending he’s pissed about. It’s the crossin’ the line.”

Your eyebrow cocks. She can’t see your expression, and good thing, because it’d probably give you away. Doesn’t like other hands on his toys.

A flash of movement from Joel’s office drags your eyes from the dregs of his coffee back to the transparent wall between you. He’s whipping the shades closed one by one, putting a barrier between his office and the outside world.

It can’t mean anything good, right? It doesn’t look like they’re about to sit in a circle and braid each other’s hair. Sure as hell aren’t about to see Joel’s good side.

“I gotta go in,” you declare, lifting off of Martha’s desk like you’ve taken flight.

She calls your name, almost tired of your antics. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

But you’re already scooping up a notepad, slipping it under your arm and fishing a pen from your desk. Already walking over to the office door, hearing the dangerous hum of Joel’s voice through the wood.

Your knuckles rap three times. You don’t wait to be called inside. Just push the handle down and slip in.

He’s stood against the frame of one of the windows, hands in his pockets. When you materialize from behind the door, his face relaxes. Brows loosen, jaw slackens. Lips almost tug into a smile.

“Sorry I’m late.” You sidle over to his desk and sit down in his chair, biting on your bottom lip, casting an unsure glance around the room.

Five pale faces turned to you. George Mackley looks like he’s about to weep.

Joel thanks you and then steps forward. “So, Ken, we were at last month’s sales.”

“Uh, yeah…” Ken draws his gaze from you when Joel moves in front of the desk. As he waltzes by, he spins slowly, giving you a look as he passes.

Kill me, he mouths, rolling his eyes. You smile, looking down at your blank notebook. You’re not here to take the fucking minutes. You know that, Joel knows that. You’re only here so he has something to keep him from losing it. Something to sit and look pretty, and calm him down.

Also: you kinda want the gossip. What the fuck did these guys do with all of Joel’s money, right?

Almost two hours in, a dozen games of tic-tac-toe against yourself, and one very crude drawing of Monday morning’s activities, Joel startles you by slamming a file down onto his glass coffee table.

“And you think that’s a solution?” he spits, voice laced with fury.

“Joel, you gotta see it from my side. I’m managing thirty people down there, it’s–”

“’n I’m managing five idiots from up here. Mackley,” he turns to the face as red as the tie below it, “you got anythin’ else for me?”

George Mackley shakes his head. His hair’s unkempt; it was gelled flat to his head when he arrived, but his hands have been through it more times than Joel’s lapped the office.

“Alright. Y’know what,” Joel seethes, backing up and motioning for them to stand, “everyone out. Meeting’s over. Go.”

“Joel–” A tall man with blue eyes stands up.

“If you ain’t about to offer me somethin’ that can fuckin’ fix this mess, then shut your mouth and get out of my office. All of you.”

The men sheepishly collect their briefcases, their documents, themselves, and stand, filing out of the door one by one. You rise from Joel’s chair, taking your notepad between your fingers, and slowly wander around the desk.

He’s standing with his head in his hands, shoulders swelling with his breathing. Does he want you to leave, too? You don’t want to rile him more; certainly don’t want to be the first face his angry self sees. But you want to make sure he’s okay. Want to check on him.

Plus, he’s kind of hot when he’s pissed.

You’re tottering toward the door when Joel drops his hands from his face, notices you, and says, plain as the coffee in his mug, “Not you.”

You turn back, pushing the door closed behind you.

“Didn’t mean to yell.”

You don’t reply. Your hand lifts to find the lock blindly behind your hip, and you click it. Now there’s nobody, no one to disturb you both. No one to walk in, no one to see.

You approach him.

He’s still talking: “Didn’t want you to have to hear all that. I spoil your morning?”

Your head shakes and you mutely take his hands, leading him around to his chair and pushing him back into it.

“Baby, what–”

You part his legs with your own, his fingers still interlocked with yours. Then you think he gets it. Understands where you’re going.

You sink to your knees between his thighs.

“They were bein’ idiots,” you say, fingers undoing his belt. “’n you didn’t spoil my mornin’. You gave me a little bit of excitement.”

Joel’s breath shudders as he watches you tug his belt through the loops of his pants and drop it to the floor. Still, he laughs, and asks, “Is that so?”

“N– Oh, fuck. Not like that. Like–” You pause, breathing out a sigh.

Yeah, okay. Like that, if you want. I’m down if you are.

His pants are open, lying loose on his hips. The waistband of his boxers visible. You hook two fingers over it and peel it down a fraction, following Joel’s happy trail as it grows thicker and darker, when he puts a hand over yours and breathes your name.

“Relax,” you mutter back, nudging his hand off of yours. “Just let me take care of you.”

His head falls against the back of his chair and his shoulders sink into the leather. You pull on the elastic and take hold of the base of his cock, already stiff, slipping it out from beneath the black cotton.

Joel’s knees fall slack when you take a hold of him. Two hands, because he’s so fucking big. Your fists pump him a few times, feeling him harden in your grasp, warm skin rock solid in your hands. You lean forward on your knees, thick bead of saliva falling from your lips onto his head, dribbling down his smooth shaft.

Joel’s watching through hooded lids. Caressing your hair, petting you. Your fingers collect your spit and drag it up and down him, and you swear he almost fucking whines.

Almost isn’t enough. You want to really hear him. So you slacken your jaw, part your lips, and slide them down, tongue flat against the underside of his length as he fills your mouth. Joel’s fist tightens, pulls harshly on your hair for just a second, until he’s breathing out again in relief, body relaxing to the feel of your wet tongue around his hard cock.

“Don’t need to – do this, babygirl.”

“Mhm,” you mumble around him.

“Fuck…” he whispers.

Your elbows are hooked over his thighs, holding yourself up in place between his legs. He tastes salty; skin warm, smooth. Your tongue flickers over his head, collecting precum, and Joel groans.

You pull off of him and lick your lips.

“What you gonna do?” you ask, fingers squeezing and dragging saliva and Joel’s arousal up and down. “About the budget stuff?”

His chest is heaving, hips lifting out of the seat almost like he’s trying to put himself back where he belongs. “What…can I do?” he asks through desperate pants. “Can’t – fuck – can’t drum sense into ‘em.”

You wrap your puffy lips around his tip, kissing it, tongue playing with him again. Swirling around, gathering him on your tastebuds. “Why don’t you cut ‘em loose, then?”

Your head dips again, lips sucking around his shaft, tongue still darting around his swollen head.

He can barely fucking answer. His eyes close over and, with a groan either side of the sentence, he replies, “’s not that easy, baby. Fuck. Keep doin’ that.”

You loosen your lips enough to let your reply pass them. Your voice is muffled, thick. “Sounds easy to me.”

“Shut up,” he grunts. “Keep fuckin’ – usin’ your tongue.”

You obey, running your tongue up and down his length and coming to rest to pay more attention to his tip.

“Yeah, just like that. Good girl.”

You hollow your cheeks and let your lips trickle up and down for a bit before releasing him with a pop. Joel’s writhing underneath you, leaning almost horizontal in his chair.

“Gonna cum, daddy?”

He nods, eyes still screwed shut. “Yeah, pretty girl. You want it down your throat again?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck – dirty girl.”

It��s all the encouragement you need. You widen your jaw, taking him in your mouth in full, until he’s choking you down to what feels like the bottom of your fucking neck. You fuck him with your throat, bobbing up and down, his fist in your hair pushing and pulling even though you don’t need him to. Your mouth meets the skin at the base of his cock over and over, dark hair brushing against your glossy lips.

Joel’s moaning each time, when his cock kisses the back of your throat, when you involuntarily choke around him, when your tongue drags along his length as he pulls you up and down. And soon his breathing loses rhythm, hips tense, and you know he’s there.

He cums, hard, at the back of your mouth. Warm release spilling out over your tongue, neatly running down your throat as you wait for him to still. His cock throbs with each shot of cum, swelling and jerking between your lips. When Joel sinks back into his chair again, you slip him out of your mouth and back under his boxershorts.

Your head lulls to the side, resting on his big thigh as you swallow him with a smile on your lips. His grip on your hair loosens, turns instead back to soft stroking, chest still panting as he comes back down. You watch him through glazed eyes; his shoulders rising and falling, breaths passing his lips like waves at the beach.

He’s twirling your hair gently around his finger, looking down at you like you’re made of twinkling gold dust.

Eventually, Joel takes a deep breath and sits up straight, beckoning you to do the same. He tucks his shirt back in, redoes his pants, then leans forward and hooks both hands under your arms, pulling you up to him.

You giggle as he lifts you onto his lap, straddling him with your knees either side of his waist. Your elbows rest on his shoulders, hands linking at the back of his neck.

His jaw turns upward, and you lower yours, your lips meeting in a soft embrace. You laugh against him, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, pushing yours into his.

“Better?” you ask once you part.

“Better, darlin’. Thank you.”

He kisses you again, a little more rushed, little less tender. Then his hands squeeze your ass and you squeal into his mouth, jumping up off of him.

You pass him his belt and lift the empty coffee mug off of his desk. “Refill?”

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks,” he says, slipping the leather through his belt loops. His shoulders are lifted, tummy sucked in as he feeds it through. He almost looks cute.

You smile and then turn on your heels, wiping the corners of your mouth as you emerge from the office.

—————

“Is he comin’, or what?”

“Huh?”

Martha jerks her head in the direction of Joel’s office. She’s stood at your desk, hands on her hips, bag over her shoulder.

“He’s…Yeah, he said he would be. Let me go check.”

You close over the budget report file you’d been reading through and shimmy out from behind your desk, trying to amble as casually as possible over to the shuttered blinds.

You turn the handle, poking your head around the door.

He’s stood at his desk, raking a hand through his hair, top button of his shirt undone. Tie sitting loose around his collar. He spots you and gives an apologetic smile.

You comin’? you mouth.

Joel points to his phone. Some panicked voice fills the silence between you both.

“��so I gave the two of ‘em a tellin’; they shouldn’t make any more purchase orders without my permission. Without your permission, Joel, I mean…And about last month’s sales, too…”

You step over to his desk, slow, suspicious. Mischief on your mind.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

You cock your head, brows furrowing. You’d been looking forward to lunch with Joel all day; something to take his mind off the meeting this morning.

Martha had called his favorite restaurant, they’d told her they had no space, she’d mentioned it was for Mr. Miller, and a table had magically opened up. Then you’d encouraged her to ask Deb, knowing she’d inevitably ask James, her admin assistant, and, before you knew it, your small lunch was a party of five.

Worked for you. You and Joel would probably be too caught up in each other’s company to notice the rest.

Except, the way things are looking, Joel isn’t getting off this call anytime soon. Soon meaning within the next thirty seconds, given the reservation is in ten minutes.

You’re growing desperate. Running out of time, knowing if you don’t do something to shut this guy the fuck up, your little daydream of sitting side by side with Joel, so close you can feel the heat off of him, feel his chest vibrate when he talks, maybe even feel his hand trailing up your thigh…won’t come true.

“What if you just…” Your fingers walk along Joel’s desktop, heading for his phone. “…lost…connection…?”

He doesn’t say a word, but the smirk that forms across his lips grants you all the permission you need. Your fingers clutch the receiver, lifting it barely an inch, then drop it back into its cradle. The panicked voice cuts.

“Oops.” You shrug, straightening up in front of Joel.

“Oops,” he repeats, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders and pulling you into him again. You lift your jaw to kiss him only quickly, before you’re pushing yourself off of his chest and dragging him away from his desk.

“Sorry, Ken!” you call as Joel yanks the door open, the pair of you laughing like schoolkids.

You meet the others outside the building, huddled together at the bottom of the concrete steps. Deb puts her cigarette out on top of a trashcan when you both approach.

“Well, we thought you weren’t comin’,” she utters to Joel.

He lifts his eyebrows in response, hands slipping into his pockets, and glances around the group. “We goin’?”

“Waiting for your driver, Mr. CEO.” Martha winks.

“Aha,” Joel replies, face unmoving, “funny.”

“It’s, like, two blocks, we can walk,” you say, setting off down the street. Joel’s quick to follow, strolling at your side, but there’s a chorus of groans from the rest of your party. “Come on!” you yell over your shoulder.

“We’re supposed to be dining with the head of the fuckin’ company!” Martha cries, and Deb cackles.

“I gotta live like the rest of y’all sometimes,” Joel shrugs, walking backward, “keeps my feet rooted, doesn’t it?”

“I hate you,” you mutter, and he knocks into your shoulder with his own.

The Courtyard is bright, modern, and…beige. It’s only Joel’s favorite because it was a buddy of his from grad school who opened it, but you’re the only person he’s entrusted with that information. It’s decent food – they do a great chicken risotto – and it is always busy, so Drew must be doing alright with it.

You walk under a fake ivy plant covering the entrance, past twinkling fairy lights and to a rustic wooden reception area. Some hyper server comes bounding over and introduces himself as Jake, before Martha gives the name of the reservation and he batters it into a keyboard.

“Lopez?” you ask Martha, screwing your face up.

“Yeah. Comma Jennifer. I like to make it exciting.”

“If you wanted exciting, go for Beyoncé, or something. Lopez?”

“You really think Beyoncé is gonna come eat here?”

“You really think Jennifer Lopez is?”

She bats you away, turning her attention to Deb, who finds the JLo joke hilarious. When Jake springs off, beckoning you all to follow him, Joel leans in close to you.

“She used to use Pamela Anderson. Glad she’s evolved a little.”

You snort and follow Jake toward the same table Joel always sits at: the very back of the restaurant, quieter, separated by screens of more fake greenery. Windows looking out over the busy streets. Bare lightbulbs hanging from unnecessarily long wires over the tables.

Joel pulls your chair out for you and slots in beside you, on your right. Martha, Deb, and James – who hasn’t said or done much more than chortle at anything Joel’s said – sit opposite. Jake borderline frisbees the menus at you guys and tells you to give him a shout when you’re ready to order.

You turn to Joel who shakes his head, hand cupping his chin.

The five of you scan down the menus – at least, you, Joel and Martha pretend to. You’ve been coming here regularly enough for long enough that you know what you’ll inevitably end up ordering. James is asking Deb if the steak might fill him up too much before his squash practice later on tonight when you feel a familiar heat on your leg, and look past your menu to see Joel’s hand curving around your thigh.

You hold back a smile, pretending to be really into the laminated sheet in your hands. So long as he keeps it PG, and James keeps rabbiting on about squash being good for your hand-eye co-ordination, this is fine. This is…enjoyable.

This is exactly what you fucking wanted, when you organized lunch.

But when Jake returns to collect the menus under his arm then scurries back off, and Martha and Deb start discussing some TV show they’re both hooked on, Joel’s hand begins to rake higher. Taking the hem of your skirt with it. You suck in a deep breath, pretending to watch the two women and trying your best to listen to the words they’re saying, but he’s getting dangerously close to your–

“You ever try squash, Joel?”

“Huh?” Joel’s hand halts instantly. You exhale.

James is sitting forward, elbows on the table, nodding with a perfectly innocent smile on his face. “Squash. Yeah. I play every Friday evening, straight after work. It’s fantastic for shakin’ off that week-long stress, y’know? Not that workin’ here is a stress, but sometimes it can build up, sometimes you just need something to…” He balls his fists and jerks them, gritting his teeth.

You choke on a laugh and play it off as a cough.

Joel shifts a little in his seat, his palm still clamped around the top of your thigh. “Never played squash. More of a golfing guy.”

“That what you’re gonna do this weekend? Burn off all that stress you’ve had with a round of golf?” you ask Joel, lips almost trembling with the effort it’s taking you not to burst out laughing.

“Not what I had in mind, naw,” he almost spits back.

“Well, if you ever wanna try it, you know who to call. Squash, I mean. I mean – sorry, I don’t mean call squash. I mean call me. To try squash. You won’t find a better stress reliever.”

“Thanks, James,” Joel mutters, fingers fumbling with the cutlery on the table in front of him.

You could fucking burst. No better stress reliever than squash, right Joel? Nothing like it. Not even the one sitting next to you, her thigh under your grasp. Nope.

You’re thankful when Martha calls your name and averts your attention.

“You have got to watch it. I reckon she’d really love it, right?”

Deb nods eagerly.

“What’s that?” you ask.

They both start chirping away, describing the plot of some mystery thriller. It’s hard to keep up, what with them both speaking over one another, deciding which parts are safe to tell you and No, we can’t tell her that, that’s a spoiler, which actors are in it and how many episodes it took for them to really get into it.

Not to mention Joel’s hand, which has resumed its climb up your leg.

“There are three seasons,” Martha says, finger drawing shapes on her placemat, “and do not go lookin’ online for anything, because at the end of season two, there’s a massive death, and…”

Your thighs are bare again, skirt rolled up and held at the top of your legs by Joel’s wrist. He’s squeezing as he goes, massaging, driving you fucking insane as he adds more and more pressure. Still, your legs part for him the higher he goes.

“W-what– where can I watch it?” you ask, your eyes closing over as Joel’s fingers loosen their grip.

Deb says something, but it’s muffled. Drowned out by the ringing in your ears. Joel’s right hand sits under his chin, elbow propped on the table as if he’s musing over the weather or considering what to do with his weekend.

His left moves swiftly over to run along the elastic of your panties. Sift his thumb down below them. Fingers drop to cup you over the lace fabric. Suddenly, you’re sitting upright, your arms propping on the table, then falling to your lap, then one elbow up, then both down again.

What the fuck– how the fuck do you make this look casual? Being touched by your boss at lunch, with three colleagues sat opposite you?

Joel seems to be enjoying watching you squirm. You hear him breathe a laugh into his hand, and then his fingers begin to travel even further south, moving your panties to the side to sift through your folds.

Which are, regrettably, fucking soaked.

“Hm,” you hear Joel hum, and you can’t look at him. Knowing he’s found exactly what he was looking for. Knowing he’s achieved exactly what he set out to do.

You sit stunned, staying completely still for fear you might draw attention from your company. But then he’s dipping a finger in, pushing deep inside you, and your jaw falls loose, a silent moan escaping in the form of a sigh.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Martha addresses you and Joel, “as requested, flights organized. You leave for Paris next Friday morning, fly home Monday afternoon.”

“Yep,” you reply, shuddering slightly. “Sounds good.”

You’re not fucking listening to a word she’s saying.

“Thanks, Martha,” Joel says, as casual as if he were telling her the time. Almost bored.

You drop your hand and it clamps around Joel’s wrist; you’re sure you’re scratching him, but you don’t care. Not only does he deserve it, but it’s all you can do to stop yourself from screaming out when he inserts a second finger.

You ball up your fist, nails digging half-moons into the skin of your palm, attempting to fight the tidal wave fast approaching as Joel’s fingers snap harder into you, a third beckoning your orgasm nearer and nearer.

You’re there – right where he wants you, almost throwing your head back with the feeling he’s giving you. And then you make the mistake of looking at him, catching that ever so Joel smile when, shielded from the others by his hand, he breathes, “There’s my girl.”

It’s the last push. The last fucking shove.

Your walls clamp around his fist, your entire body screams, a scream that forcibly dies out in your throat as you lean forward and –

You slam your fist down on the tabletop, the sudden jolt of cutlery and glass making the three opposite you jump.

“Are you– what’s wrong?” Martha asks, leaning closer.

“Cr– fuck– cramp,” you mumble, eyes screwed shut, hand still gripping Joel’s wrist. He slowly drags his soaked fingers out of your tight cunt, casually maneuvering his arm back where it belongs whilst the table’s attention is still on your head and shoulders.

“Cramp?”

“My – fucking – leg. I’ll be – right back.” You’re almost hyperventilating as you shakily stand, shoving your chair back with your legs only for it to be caught by the hand Joel had inside you seconds before.

You waddle off to the front of the restaurant, nearly breaking out into a run when you reach the hallway leading to the restrooms. The door to the ladies room bursts open and you throw yourself against a sink, gripping onto the ceramic, chest heaving, shoulders hunched. Your cunt is still throbbing, waves of your orgasm slowly losing power and retreating.

You wave your hand under the faucet and cold water automatically flows, filling your cupped hands, cooling your blood, cooling your skin when you dab it onto your cheeks. You sigh with relief, leaning against the sink, catching pathetic glimpses of yourself in the mirror.

And then, the door pushes open. And his silhouette sneaks inside. He leans back against the wall, hands in his pockets. Face with a smirk you want to slap off of him.

“How’s the cramp?”

“Are you fucking–” You flick your hands toward him, splashing him with water as he throws an arm up to dodge it, laughing. That fucking laugh.

He wanders around you, looking your shaking body up and down, and comes to a halt with his chest against your back. His chin leans into your shoulder, and you look at each other in the mirror.

It takes everything in you to fight the smile growing on your lips, but when Joel mirrors it, you can’t help it.

“Fucker,” you whisper, and he kisses your shoulder. You lean back into him, ass pressing against him, feeling something you already suspected would be there.

“Feel what you did to me?” he asks, voice muffled into the cotton of your shirt.

“Mhm,” you reply, and you drop your hand to take the outline of him through his pants.

“You wanna fix it for me?”

Your head rolls back against his shoulder, smutty grin melting across your face. “Yeah, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he tells you, lips dragging across your neck, hands at his belt.

Your fingers clutch your skirt, still hiked halfway up your thighs, and pull it further. Joel’s hands replace yours on your hips and he shoves his pants apart, lining his bulge up with your core. Then his palm is at the bottom of your back, pushing you forward into position. Your knuckles whiten around the ceramic sink.

“Fuck,” you whisper when you feel his tip at your entrance. You’re already soaked through, no need for him to take his time. Not that you have time, anyway, with three coworkers out front waiting for the two of you.

Joel thrusts forward, entering you in one go, filling you up so fast you nearly double over. He keeps a tight grip on your hips, dragging you up and down the top of his cock a few times before slamming all the way into you again, eliciting a cry from your lips.

“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, low, dangerous. “Just gettin’ you warmed up.”

“Your hand wasn’t enough of a warmup?” you throw over your shoulder, and he takes your arms and pulls you flush against him.

“You gonna run that pretty mouth the entire time we’re in here, or you gonna let me fuck you?” he breathes around the shell of your ear.

“Both.”

You bite back a whimper when his hips buck into you painfully. A telling: don’t start.

Joel establishes a pace quick enough, both of you aware you can’t take too long in here. His grunts match the rate his body snaps against yours, your panting matches the rate you bounce up and down on him.

You’re watching the sight reflected in the mirror: Joel hooked around your shoulder, lips against your ear, whispering praises and filth, and you, leaning back against him, rutting on his hard cock with a thick smile on your lips.

“Daddy…” you whine, and Joel’s vice grip tightens even more.

“Good girl,” he pants, “so fuckin’ good for me.”

It’s not long before that heat is swirling around your core again, sparks of lightning jolting through the whirlwind of pleasure Joel’s hips create between yours. You take a hold of his arms for stability as you begin to feel your orgasm crest the horizon, knowing by the sounds he’s making in your ear that Joel isn’t far off, either.

“Cum in me,” you whimper, watching for his reaction in the mirror.

He pulls a face that’s almost…defeated. Groans like you’ve given him an impossible problem to solve.

You plead with your eyes. “Cum – in – me.”

It’s like you’re pressing on the weakest part of a porcelain vase; daring it to break. Daring it to fall apart. Joel knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s more sensible not to. But the way you look, body against his, whining and whimpering and fucking smiling right back at him – the way you feel, so warm and wet, squeezing him so tight he’s surprised he’s even lasted this long…

He can’t fucking help himself.

He moans and his hands clamp on your waist, forcing you forward as he ruts into you once, twice, three times before he’s twitching deep inside, warm seed spilling out and coating your walls. Your release floods over you, then, too, your head falling forward as your legs give for a few seconds, Joel’s grip the only thing keeping you upright.

Stars in your eyes, you pull the strength to lift your head and look at your reflection; Joel behind you, face to the ceiling as he slowly stills between your legs.

Your cunt throbs, and you move your hips back and forth gently, drawing a noise from Joel that you wish you could never stop hearing.

“Baby,” he lulls, looking down to watch as your dripping cunt rocks back and forth, taking him all and then letting him go again.

It’s a minute or so before you both return to reality. Bodies still connected, Joel places a steady kiss to your cheek. You lean into him, turning to place your lips against his. You’re both hot, sweaty, it’s probably pretty noticeable you just fucked.

And you don’t care.

Joel slips out of you and backs up, letting you fix yourself in the mirror as he stuffs himself back into his pants.

“You think you can walk back to the office?” he asks, smirking.

“Call Rand,” you reply, and his head tips back in a laugh.

He nods toward the door and the pair of you slip out discreetly, you first to check the coast is clear, and Joel right behind. You walk along the hallway, heels clicking, like you’ve just come across each other right outside the restrooms.

“Hey, Joel,” a voice says from behind you both as you wander past the bar.

“Drew,” Joel replies, and shakes the hand of a tall blonde guy in all black. His t-shirt’s so tight you can make out his pecs underneath it.

“How’s it goin’? You been in long?”

“Just waitin’ for our food,” Joel says, “it’s probably out by now.” He glances over at you and your legs clench subconsciously. He introduces you then, says, “My assistant. Best assistant I could ask for,” and your lungs close up.

Drew shakes your hand and then turns back to Joel. “Don’t go without catchin’ me, ain’t lettin’ you pay a thing. How’s business?”

Joel nods. “Good, good. We’re, uh, we’re heading out to Europe next week, so.”

“Jean-Marc?”

“Yep.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah. Place is lookin’ good, same as always.” Joel glances around, pointing randomly to the light fixture above your heads.

Drew does that thing men do when trapped in a dry conversation: folds his arms, looks to the floor, and nods some more. Waiting for Joel to say —

“Alright, well. Great seein’ you again. Thanks for lunch.”

He puts an arm around your back and guides you off back to the table.

“Nice meetin’ you.” You smile at Drew as you pass and he returns it, turning back to the bar.

Once you’re out of earshot, you look over to Joel.

“Something going on there?”

“Huh?”

You scoff. “You two couldn’t wait to be away from each other. Why’d you always come here if it’s so awkward?”

“Well, if I see ‘im, I get free food.”

You slap his arm as he pulls your chair back out for you.

“Feelin’ better?” Deb asks, pushing French fries around her plate.

You nod, pulling your seat in beside Joel, who’s still laughing at himself. As you settle, you feel the warmth he left behind spill out of you a little, pooling in your underwear. And Joel seems to notice, whether from some sexual sixth sense he has when it comes to you, or just the way you awkwardly shift in your seat. He hands you a smug smirk, nudging you with his elbow.

You narrow your eyes at him and turn back to Martha.

“So, you were saying you fixed the flights for Paris?”

----------

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bootleg-nessie · 5 months

Text

Things that will happen in the future (based on my own experiences with time travel):

***FAQs at the end***

*All of these observations are copied directly from my notes in roughly the order I took them in

*Don’t ask about the interchanging use of past/present/future tense, you know how that stuff is with time travel

Women just started all growing three boobs instead of two. Scientists baffled

Genetically engineered catboys (no literally)

The great pyramid of Giza has been converted into a Bass Pro Shop

The entire state of Rhode Island was bought by some rich tech CEO who promptly dug a 500 foot wide trench around the entire state so that it could in fact be an island. It was soon converted into the world’s largest parking lot

Pollution has gotten so bad that fresh oxygen is now delivered straight to most homes via a subscription service

Basic necessities such as food, water, and housing are now provided for free by the government, but only for the top 1% of wealth holders

Insulin now costs twice as much as rent. “Get fucked,” say pharma companies

92.6% of new electronic appliances now have smartphone integration and require a monthly subscription to use

Most billionaires have real estate on earth’s moon

As an ongoing film experiment, Taika Waititi successfully convinced a Nebraska man that he’s been raptured and is now in heaven. He actually got Truman Show’d and now millions of viewers tune in every week to watch God (played by John DiMaggio) manipulate Robert into confronting his own views, battle cognitive dissonance, and face the realization that he might not have been as good of a person on Earth as he thought he was

Carrots have gone extinct, as have highland cows

Species of extinct animals and plants now are being posthumously renamed after the billionaires and elites most directly responsible for killing then off

Researchers discovered a sentient colony of fungus off the coast of Chile, it prefers to go by Fleebo and appears to have a incredibly complex intelligence far greater than any other observed organic being

Nobody knows where Ireland went. It literally just disappeared off the face of the earth one day and nobody bothered to question it. The story couldn’t compete in the news cycle with the recent news about a company in China that made the first real life pokemon. An entire civilization of people gone and I’m the only one who seems to remember it or even care

Fleebo and its offspring have annexed Madagascar and are threatening any retaliation with nuclear warfare and “making The Last of Us a reality.” Nobody knows if Fleebo actually has the capabilities to do this, but after the Lovecraft incident we’re all TOO goddam scared to fuck around and find out

Large snails have replaced cats and dogs as the most common household pet. Snail culture has largely taken over the world, especially Japan

The president of the United States is now decided with an oiled up twerking competition. Most people were hesitant at first but this has produced vastly more competent leaders so now everyone just kinda goes along with it

With the cost of living crisis only worsening with time, selling tattoo space on your body to advertisers has become common as people struggle to afford rent and pay their bills

North and South Korea have reunited into “Korea 2.0”

Germany has split up into East and West Germany again

Belgium and France have been annexed by West Germany and renamed “Wester Germany” and “Westest Germany” respectively

The entirety of Florida is now underwater. Most of Kansas is too for some reason that scientists refuse to explain because they’ve “sworn an oath to the eldritch gods” and that “much worse things would happen” if they did

The melting ice caps in Antarctica unveiled a lost civilization of intelligent creatures descended from a species of lungfish, predating human civilization by millions of years. They planned on hibernating for another 10-15 million years to observe the course of evolution on Earth and are very very angry at humans for waking them up prematurely and ruining all of that with global warming

The politically correct term for lungfish people is “Dipnoid” but most people refer to them by a variety of slurs, such as “finwalker” and “kelp muncher” (not that they even eat kelp)

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch has now increased to nearly half the size of what was formerly known as Canada and has been colonized entirely by pirates (the flag is actually pretty cool). The pirate nation has the 17th largest economy in the world and is projected to surpass the United States in GDP

Africa is about 2% smaller. Nobody knows why. Most people point to Fleebo, who denies having any involvement

All human-Dipnoid interaction was promptly banned by most world governments, except for the GPGPRP (Great Pacific Garbage Patch Republic of Pirates), whom the Dipnoids rely upon extensively for trade

Scientists have used DNA from fossils to recreate other species of humans. We now live alongside them like we did for thousands of years before everyone besides Homo sapiens went extinct. Racism is at an all time high

Class C and above robots are now legally recognized by most progressive countries as people

The United States government has been exposed for secretly funneling billions of dollars into the GPGPRP and using it to fund terrorist operations all over the world.

A new major religion revolving around Dave Grohl has skyrocketed in popularity. Grohilsm is now the world’s largest religion, second only to Fleeboism

Scientists discovered a new continent in the Pacific Ocean, and then promptly lost it again. Most people are convinced this was just an elaborate practical joke, but scientists “swear it definitely happened”

For a brief period of about 30 years, everything in George Orwell’s 1984 happened almost exactly as written in the book. Literally 1984

It was revealed that Jeff Epstein didn’t kill himself. He actually faked his death and spent the next few years in a drug-fueled episode of psychosis making sock puppets in a cave in Italy and then molesting said sock puppets until he died from a sock puppet related illness

Bigfoot was discovered off the coast of Georgia doing cocaine with a congregation of alligators. When questioned, he said he normally lives in Montana and was only there on vacation. He is now a celebrity, and has been featured in a number of tv shows and films, two of which he won an Oscar for. Last I checked, he was a washed up actor living in Hollywood with a reanimated Neanderthal woman

The GPGPRP raided most of England’s museums with the object of “doing exactly what they did for the last few centuries” England was understandably furious, but the rest of the world found it rather amusing

England declared war on the GPGPRP, which it promptly lost after hackers brought down the entire country’s military overnight. Much like in the 21st century, England is the world’s laughing stock

The entirety of Luxembourg relocated itself to the moon

Russia attempted to take over most of Eurasia. In retaliation to the full global effort to stop them, they launched nukes at the world’s 600 most populous cities outside of its current territory. Most of the warheads were stopped in time, but a few major metropolitan areas got hit pretty badly, including Los Angeles, Hong Kong, Chengdu, Mexico City, and Istanbul. Japan was understandably super pissed that Hiroshima and Nagasaki got nuked for a second time

In the wake of the nuclear holocaust, Canada assumed control over what was formerly Russia and assimilated many of its citizens and leaders into its own society and government. Under the new rule of formerly Russian leaders, Canada became a puppet state for the second coming of Russia. It annexed much of the United States, Mongolia, China, and a handful of other countries, becoming “the world’s first megacountry.” Crungolaska now controls a majority of the northern hemisphere

As part of a practical joke by Adam Sandler, Tom Hanks was actually marooned on a desert island like in Castaway. He lasted less than a week before he died. When I left this era of the future, Adam Sandler was serving a lifetime sentence in prison for murder

Fringe groups of crows with above-average intelligence have started popping up around the world. So far they have been observed forming small communities, crafting relatively complex tools, using rudimentary speech, performing rituals, and creating music

Aliens visited earth and had a formal meeting with many of our world leaders, but decided to leave us alone for a few thousand more years because humanity is “not yet mature enough to handle the responsibilities of interstellar travel.” They have incentivized us with a the blueprints for an Alcubierre Drive and a means to produce the exotic matter to fuel it once they deem us as being ready

The original colony of settlers on Mars has declared independence, officially becoming the first country not on Earth

We sent Tom Cruise back to space but this time we just left him there

The tether for the space elevator broke. The town known as Vatorville, famous for being the location of the takeoff point of the elevator shuttle on Earth, was completely decimated as tens of thousands of miles of steel cable came crashing back down. There were no survivors

Most people in first and second world countries have mandatory microchip implants that serve as a personal ID

Last Thursdayism has been largely denounced by quantum physicists. Current theories now revolve around “Next Thursdayism,” the belief that the entire universe was created in the future and that we all exist as a memory in the past

Synthetic organ farms for transplants and research have become a massive industry worth billions of dollars. However, there is still a huge black market for organically grown human organs, as they’re much cheaper to acquire and aren’t taxed at the exorbitant rates that lab-grown organs are

China dug a hole all the way to the center of the Earth. Turns out it’s hollow and there are people living inside. Who knew?

A university reconstructed the entire city of Rome as it was in its early days during the Roman Empire. It’s actually pretty historically accurate, except for the fact that there’s a lot less sex because it’s run by a bunch of sweaty history nerds

After Rome 2 resulted in the creation of a cult revolving around the Roman god of the dead that gained traction as a minor religion, Pluto was officially reinstated as a planet by NASA when cultists picketed their headquarters every day for nearly 3 years straight. “Fine, we’ll give these fucking virgins what they want so they’ll finally shut the hell up,” said NASA’s administrator in chief

In a display of the biotechnical prowess of Disney’s Imagineers, all the animatronics in Disney’s Hall of Presidents were replaced with clones of the originals, which went about exactly as well as you’d expect. After reports of the presidents hurling a series of racial slurs and other obscenities at the first black family to enter surfaced, the project was shut down almost immediately after it had opened. Minority admission to Magic Kingdom plummeted to 2.3% of its numbers from the previous year, making it the second whitest place on earth after a taylor swift concert

Plastic now makes up about 3% of every organism on earth by weight

Public officials are now required by law to take shrooms before running for office

Trees are considered a rare and highly sought after commodity, and are usually only owned by public institutions and the rich (the vast majority of oxygen farms use algae to produce oxygen)

FAQs:

FAQ: What time period(s) did you go to?

A: I have no fucking clue. The world stopped using the Gregorian calendar in 2063 after a gamma ray burst hit the sun. The GRB led to stellar ablation, which changed the length of a year on Earth. The sun would continue to lose mass at an accelerated rate for several more years, with the length of the year changing slightly from year to year. The world adopted a variety of different calendars which kept being updated frequently and were often super confusing and contradictory. I traveled to about a dozen different points in time, which based on my best estimates spanned within a few millennia of the current date.

FAQ: How did you obtain a time machine?

A: I think it was the 17th or 18th of June, 2055? That night, a large sci-fi looking box thingy roughly the size of a VW Bus appeared a few hundred yards away in the open field in front of my house. I tried to take a picture of the box, but for some reason the closer I got, the more the image on my camera started to become fuzzy, and by the time I got close enough to take a decent picture, the camera had stopped working altogether. I pulled open a door to reveal a corpse inside that was charred beyond recognition, who appeared to have suffocated and/or burned to death during a fire that damaged most of the interior. I also noticed a number of strange tumors and growths on the body. I pressed a random button on the remains of what I believed to be a control panel, expecting nothing to happen, but the door closed automatically and I suddenly lost consciousness. When I came to, I exited the box, expecting to still be in the field in front of my house, but instead found myself a ways outside of a small snowy village that based on my best estimates, was somewhere in northern Asia around 2-3 thousand years ago. The villagers started coming after me with spears, so I quickly ran back to the box and pressed another button, hoping it would return me to from whence I came. This time, the people I found (who were thankfully much nicer and spoke a dialect of English that I could mostly understand) told me that it was the year 506 of the PGRB-Δ4 calendar (the calendar that the United Territories was using at the time). I repeated this maybe a dozen more times trying to get home until I landed in 2023, which as far as I could tell, was the closest I had gotten back to my original time so far. It was at this point that I decided to stay and seek medical attention, as I was rather concerned about some nasty new growths on my arms and legs similar to that which I had seen on the corpse.

FAQ: Where is the time machine now?

A: No idea. It disappeared a few days after I landed in 2023. My best guess is that some poor sap found it and ended up sometime else.

(I never ask for likes/reblogs but I literally spent fucking WEEKS on this one so if you liked it pls show me some love <3)

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saerins · 4 months

Text

⋆୨ chapter three ୧˚ for a while, you were all mine

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter two - a million miles away, still you connect me in your way <> next: chapter four - behind a box of reasons why ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 6.3k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, yn and sae finally sharing one bed | notes: eeep this was long i’m sorry !! more of the other girl here heh ^_< also mwah thank you to all of you who’s reading ily !! <3

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t right of you to go through your husband’s stuff. Maybe you should’ve just looked at that little black box and left it there and continue to be ignorant.

But no. In this world, you’re nosy and greedy and you wanted to know who exactly it is that Itoshi Sae of all people can’t get over and now you have exactly what you were looking for.

After extensive research—and by research you mean scrolling through your husband’s social media (all of them), you managed to find her tagged in a post buried way below on his Facebook wall. Silver lining is: there’s nothing recent. The bad part? Judging by the date, they’ve known each other for a long time.

Apparently her name is Mirin, and her family’s made up of a whole slew of top lawyers in the whole of Japan. There’s not a lot on her Facebook, but her Instagram is a whole other story. Her posts the last few years put her somewhere in Europe, and judging by the content, she’s been studying there for a while. But before that, back when the posts were all in Japan, you catch a few photos of Sae. Some of them have Oliver and Eita, and a couple of other guys you haven’t met before.

It’s really wrong of you to do this, only because you know you’re just setting yourself up for a world of paranoia, but you can’t stop. You move over to the pictures she’s tagged in, and there’s one from Oliver that catches your attention.

Because it’s dated a few weeks back.

The first of two photos show Oliver, Eita, Sae and the same guy you saw back in Mirin’s feed—the one with jet black spiky hair. They’re in a bar, you presume, sitting around a private booth with a ton of alcohol in the ice bucket on the table. You recognise his attire; it’s from the very first night Sae bothered to sit down at the dining table and eat with you.

The second makes your heart crash to the floor. In the photo, in Sae’s place is Mirin herself, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a skin-tight red dress that you wouldn’t ever think of wearing. (One, because it’s much too revealing for your own taste, and two, well, just because you’re more of an oversized t-shirt kind of girl.)

All you can take away from what you saw is that Mirin is now back in Japan. Coupled with the fact that Sae had been gone even though he was off from work for those first few days of your marriage, you deduce what you wish isn’t true—was he meeting up with her all this time? Even

Trying to avoid falling into utter madness, you grab your phone and text your ever-trusty best friend.

Reo, meet you at our usual. ASAP!!!

Just as you’re about to leave the house, Sae gets back from wherever he’s been (which now you can’t help but wonder whether he was meeting Mirin), and you run right into his chest.

“Careful, busy?” Sae asks, which is more than Sae usually does and you realise just how low the bar is set right now.

Still, you answer him like you always do. “Yeah I’m gonna meet Reo for a bit,” you tell him, biting back a snarky comment about Mirin.

Even with those doubts of Sae in your head, you can’t help but stop to appreciate how he hands you your keys from the key hanger before you forget, or how his other hand is gripping onto yours, warm and just slightly calloused. It’s the first time you’ve felt them since that day at your own wedding.

“Take your time, I’ll handle our dinner tonight,” he tells you, and you think that’s already a lot considering that he’s never really bothered with anything the past few weeks, but then you feel a soft sensation against your forehead—very brief, so unfamiliar, way too soft—and then it’s gone in just a second and it’s way too quick that it has you doubting its existence at all.

All you hear is a soft “see you” before the door shuts behind you, and then there’s only the erratic beating of your heart that fills your ears.

“Yikes.”

“Very helpful, thanks,” you sigh exasperatedly as you plop down onto the cushioned seat across from Reo.

Reo laughs, handing you your phone back, open to Oliver’s Instagram account. “Then ask for a divorce, I’m sure he’d happily oblige if all of that’s true.”

“You know why I can’t, Reo,” you remind him, close to giving up.

Reo nods, remembering about your parents and deciding not to make matters worse. “Did you ask him about it though?”

You frown, glaring up at your best friend who’s now happily sipping on his cold brew. “And let him guess that I was stalking his ex? Sure I did.”

Reo snorts at your sarcasm. He thinks it’s funny how you’re oddly meek in front of Sae, and yet you’re snappish around him. Comes with the many years of being best friends, he supposes. But on that note, “you think there’s something going on between them?”

For the first time, Reo sees you helpless, eyes staring into nothing, index finger idly tracing circles on the polished wooden surface. “I don’t know,” because all you know is that you’re already exhausted from overthinking all the things they could be doing behind your back. “But… he’s always away and he says it’s work when I know it’s not. And she’s back and they were at the same place and urgh, I don’t know what to do.”

By that last line, you’re already burying your head in your hands, slumped against the table, Reo watching on as you grumble in frustration. He chuckles, gently patting your head before you look up at him, “what if they’re just friends right now?”

“It’s still weird, isn’t it? I mean… from the looks of it, they were pretty serious at one point.” Your words are all muffled because you’re pretty sure this is you being jealous now—thanks to Sae considerably warming up to you (be it at his own sluggish pace), it’s hard not to feel anything for him. In a way, you’re learning to like a lot about him, but there’s this unshakeable doubt you can’t brush off in the form of his ex.

Reo leans back against his chair now, pondering out loud. “Hmm I wonder what that reminds me of.”

In a second, you know all too well what he’s referring to, and you find yourself unable to look him in the eye. “That’s… different. We didn’t act on it.”

He rests his elbow on the table, head resting against his fist, “yeah but… we were still each other’s first kiss, right?”

“But we didn’t amount to anything.”

“Except that we’re best friends now,” Reo tells you, and you know he’s trying to get a point across but you’re not sure you want to understand it.

“And that’s all we ever were, Reo.”

Smiling, Reo leans forward a little, cautious at keeping his voice down. It won’t do if people misunderstand and word gets around. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but you were all I wanted at one point. For more than just that one day under the cherry blossoms, more than that one time I stole your first kiss.”

It stuns you a little to hear it, because any romantic emotions between the two of you were never said or shared. Both you and Reo knew back then that your parents wouldn’t ever be in favour of him and his rebelliousness that you both just decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. At that time, when you were both foolish kids, having that something intangible was enough. Maybe it faded for you faster than it had for Reo, but he knew that it once existed. Even if only for a second.

“And?”

You’ve gone soft now, and Reo knows you understand. You’re just in denial.

“Are you sure Sae would feel the same if he knew about it? If he knew I used to love you too?” Reo asks you, genuinely wondering for himself.

You’re about to argue that Sae doesn’t even care, but putting yourself into his shoes, you get where Reo’s coming from. History is history. No matter how long ago it was or how short the relationship (or lack of one) was, the feelings still existed, once upon a time.

Still, you have a feeling that there’s more than meets the eye. Especially if Sae has to hide it all the time. He’s never even said her name to you, if they met at all.

“Anyway look, do you want me to try asking Oliver about it? I’ll be discreet, though I can’t really say the same for that knucklehead,” Reo warns you. It’s not like he knows Oliver much outside of any business dealings, but he can tell that much at least.

You shake your head anyway, knowing it’s a bad idea. For all you know, Sae would just lash out at you for prying into his business when you’re just his on-paper wife.

“Wonder why they broke up though,” you think out loud, watching the liquid in your cup swish around, close to spilling off the edge as you swirl it with your hand, almost completely lost in thought.

Reo answers you without missing a beat. “She went abroad to study and just called it off thinking it wouldn’t work.” His eyes go wide the moment your head shoots up, and he winces after letting it slip.

“You knew?”

“Yeah…”

“What the- how?” Because it’s incredulous how Reo happens to know that much more about the relationship.

He sighs, fessing up. “I was asking around about Sae remember? When I told you he’s just a tough nut to—”

“Yeah yeah,” you wave it off, wanting him to get to the point.

“Well, Oliver’s kinda a blabbermouth so…” Reo sighs, as if he senses there’s no point in keeping it in, not when you’re already halfway into that rabbit hole yourself.

And you’re all ears. Half because you really just want to learn more about it and the other half just wanting confirmation that you’re not crazy for overthinking about this. But then Reo tells you and you’re not sure anymore.

“He said Sae was never over her, loved her to bits.” Reo pauses, hesitating before he opens his mouth again. “He said Sae was waiting for her to get back before starting things up again.”

Oh.

SEVEN YEARS AGO.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

Surely it wasn’t a stretch to be furious that distance would be enough of a reason for a breakup? Surely Sae didn’t have to think himself crazy for refuting such an idea?

Mirin’s hair flowed in the wind, pretty as it always was, and it would be even prettier in his memories. She looked unsure, and he knew it too. He knew her like the back of his hand, down to the injury on his ankle. She was only doing what she thought was right, and that was offering each of their own freedom, though Sae had no single doubt in his mind that that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Sae, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” she told him, her eyes swimming with tears that she wouldn’t allow to overflow.

Always so stubborn, and forever thinking less of herself. That was how he knew her to be. And as much as he hated that stubbornness at that moment, he loved her just as much.

With a hand reaching out to her, he pulled her to him, letting her rest her head in his chest, something that he savoured because it wouldn’t be long until she’ll be gone for who knows how long.

“Is it selfish of me to say I don’t want to break up with you?” Sae was asking her, genuinely. He didn’t know how to handle this—when life held different paths for two people in love, wasn’t it just common sense that they could still tread it and yet be together? Was long distance really the end of everything they had?

Mirin sniffled just a little before she pulled away and forced herself to smile, something that Sae hated. It was always the fake ones that irked him, even now.

“Is it selfish for me to think that we’re supposed to?”

Maybe he didn’t know the answer. But all he knew was that if she still felt like they should, then he’d concede. He was always weak when it came to her. It was always the same. He couldn’t imagine being weak to anyone else. It was her. Only her.

“Fine, we’ll do that, if that’s what you want,” he told her, a tone so gentle that no one but her has ever heard. But he drew close, tipping her chin up so she would look at him, his teal eyes appreciating every inch of her beautiful face, the most beautiful one he had ever seen, and the most beautiful one he thought he would ever see. “But you know something?”

Mirin swallowed the lump in her throat, the amount of love she felt threatening to swallow her whole. “What?”

Sae let out a deep chuckle, a soft one before he pressed his lips against hers, a promise laid between their lips like it was a secret only they both would keep.

“Nothing would stop me from waiting for you to come back. So come back to me, okay? Come back, I’ll wait for you.”

That night when you get home, you feel just slightly numb. After hearing what you did, it’s no surprise. You’ve always been kind of weak when it comes to feelings. You’re more heart over mind and you’d choose your heart over and over again even if you had no more blood left to bleed.

You think you’re never getting over it until you walk in and realise that Sae’s in the kitchen, setting your dinner down on the table. It’s like your tears automatically dissipate once you look into his eyes.

“Oh, just nice,” is all he mumbles before he sits down at his place on the entirely too-big dining table for the two of you.

Across from him, you sit down as you look at the spread before you. A steak on each of your plates, potato puree at the side. In the middle there’s assorted sides of mushrooms, corn kernels and what you assume to be a tray of sauces for the meat.

“Did you cook all of these?” You ask, almost breathless. You’re about to say he’s a much better cook than you are, until Sae speaks up.

“No.” He seems nearly unwilling to answer you, a delicate frown on his face. “Accidentally burnt the pans when I tried to cook.”

“Huh?” You spin your head around to find the sink filled with all your pans, and from the looks of it, Sae had been trying to scrub the burnt portions off unsuccessfully.

“We need to buy new pans.”

Sae says this all too monotonously, like he’s half-robot and half completely embarrassed, that you can’t help but laugh out loud. Besides, it’s kind of cute that there’s a faint pink on his cheeks. You’ve never seen that before.

He looks at you incredulously, like he wasn’t expecting you to laugh at him like he’s a damn clown. Flinging a mushroom at you with his fork, he rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he groans.

Pouting at him mockingly, you decide to tease him a little more. “You didn’t touch anything else in the house and ruin them, did you?”

And you were joking, until you realise Sae’s averting his gaze, stuffing his mouth full with corn kernels.

“Sae!”

“We might need to get new stuff for the laundry room too,” he confesses, talking with his mouth full. (Spoiler: you find out later that he put the wrong detergents in the washer and accidentally flooded the laundry room.)

Still, you think it’s sort of endearing that he tried to do the chores while you were the one out for a change, so you stop yourself from making fun of him too much. It’s not like whatever you learned earlier isn’t still sitting in the back of your head (because a part of you wonders if he’s doing all this out of guilt), but some part of you wants to be selfish and let yourself feel special, even if it’s delusional, at least for a little bit.

You want to feel like the wife he misses when you’re not around, like the person he would think of when his mind strays. Is this all too much to ask?

Maybe you just can’t help yourself, so you bring yourself to ask: “Sae, why did you agree to this?”

There’s a pregnant pause in the room, the only sounds filling the silence being the stainless steel cutlery hitting the plates as Sae adjusts himself. “Why did you?”

You suppose that maybe it’ll be easier for him to share if you start first, so you bite the bait. “Long story but… if I don’t then it’ll fall to my sister and she’s happy with someone else.” You swallow the meat in your mouth, the fat rendered so well it makes you crave for more. “I don’t want her to have to sacrifice that. Our parents aren’t exactly the nicest people in the world.”

Sae listens to you, an understanding settling in his chest. He could laugh from the coincidence of it all. “Same, but for my brother,” he tells you, prodding at his steak. “And he’s happy with soccer, not some girl. Can’t get a girl to save his life.”

Somehow, you can hear the quiet fondness that he has for Rin that makes you believe he’s a good brother.

“Would a marriage affect his career all that much?”

There’s a certain complexity behind Sae’s expression when you ask that question, something that you can’t decipher. But he scoffs, “let’s just say, my parents aren’t the nicest people either. I would know.”

And something tells you that it’s not something you want to ask yet, so you let his answer sit with you.

“Oh, speaking of parents,” Sae brings up his phone, switching the subject and handing it over to you. It’s a string of texts between him and his mother, apparently. You hold it up to your face, reading through and it appears they’d gotten you both tickets. “Mine got us both tickets, so.”

As you scroll, a grin appears on your face as you look at him. “Honeymoon tickets to Korea?” You’re almost squealing. It’s been a long while since you’ve last had a vacation, and ten days of distraction sounds really nice after all the information you’d just learned today.

Sae rolls his eyes, though you don’t miss the slight tug upwards at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, so get packing, we leave in two days.”

And as excited as you are, you feel a vibration and the brief flash of ��dummy’ messaging him, the only part of the preview that you can see being: no, take me with you :(

You’re pretty sure it vibrates some more but by then, you’re already handing the phone back and Sae just locks his phone without bothering. Shaking your head, you try to stuff that image back to the deepest crevices of your mind, determined to not let it ruin your mood for your getaway.

Ex lover or not, Sae is still your husband and it’s not like he hates this (by the looks of things, it’s only been getting better and better), so you’re still hell bent on making things work.

Two days fly by way too quickly.

The day after Sae tells you about the trip, you immediately get to work at packing. Ten days is not a short trip and you plan to make full use of it, and for that, you have to be ready.

You had spent the whole day buying anything you would need—travel-friendly items and whatnot—while commuting back home to your parents’ house (at a timing you know they’re at work, of course!) to take anything you might’ve left there that you needed. Just as you left the house, nostalgia took over as you looked around at the place where you grew up.

It’s strange. People say to cherish what time you have with your parents, that one day you’re going to move out and you’re going to miss it.

You don’t feel like that’s necessarily true, because you’re living proof. The only thing you’d miss is your sister and you still talk to her everyday. Meanwhile, the only times your mother or father ever talks to you is to ask you about your marriage and warning you not to annoy Sae too much, as though it was a given and that it shouldn’t be the other way around.

Maybe it doesn’t make much sense; you and Sae (or maybe just you) trying to be a family when you both have no idea what a proper family is like. Even if it is just on paper.

Now you’re on a town car to the airport and you’re fiddling with your passport in your hands, staring out the window like a little child that’s going overseas for the first time. (Next to you, Sae’s thinking the exact same thing—you do look so much like an excited child. Or maybe a puppy.)

Of course, Sae’s parents waste no expenses in gifting you two first-class seats. Not that you’ve never been in first class, but it’s nice to be next to Sae, and you catch yourself, realising just how quickly you’re catching feelings.

“What?” Sae’s just getting ready to turn his phone to flight-safe mode when he catches you staring, a hint of smugness forming inside of him.

Even with a small partition separating your seats, you can see his teal eyes staring at you, long lashes fluttering in all its glory. Instead of offering an answer, you just shake your head and lean back, busying yourself by adjusting the screen in front of you.

Being in a state of denial is easy; it’s actually fun to sit in first class next to Sae, on a three-hour flight to your honeymoon, annoying him each chance you get, earning yourself a death stare every instant before laughing yourself silly when he flips off at you. It’s been a few weeks, but you think you’ve grown accustomed to what Sae is like that you know his middle fingers to you are never meant to be taken seriously and his silence is just how he is when he isn’t fully opened up. It nearly makes you think you’re crazy for doubting him and yet you don’t have the balls to question him about any of that. Not yet, because you’re not ready for this to end (if it will).

The itinerary had already been planned out by Sae’s mother, but it wasn’t like either of you wanted to follow it. One, Sae likes to do things spontaneously anyway and two, well, you have a feeling that he might want to treat this like a solo trip. It’s not like either of you have properly been husband and wife much to have a proper honeymoon together.

So count you surprised when you suggested that you both try to do solo trips around the city and just meet up for dinner, only to have Sae agree and yet follow you wherever you decide to go that first day.

At first, you were just wondering whether he had the same plans, but after he followed you into a Sephora looking absolutely clueless and then getting all flustered and sticking to you the moment the staff there asked him if he wanted to do a skin test, you allow yourself to think that he’s actually tagging along with you.

“What are you doing?” You decide to ask after exiting another store, carrying no less than five bags thanks to your anxiety of asking Sae what he’s up to.

On his part, he merely shrugs and looks away, hands in his coat pocket, looking absolutely like a model out of a magazine. Sometimes you wonder if he’s really yours. On paper, at least.

“This is our honeymoon, right? Makes sense that we’re together.” That’s all the explanation Sae offers, his gaze hovering over the bags you’re carrying, before he leans closer. “Besides, you’re my wife,” he says, gently grabbing your bags and carrying it for you.

He doesn’t say that it’s just on paper this time. And you can’t help but read into it. It’s perplexing how easily his words can affect you. It has your heart doing somersaults and your lips nervously pursing together.

“So, where next?” He prompts, looking at you expectantly.

And maybe you’re a little too excited for this pleasant turn of events that you’re grinning from ear to ear as you stare at him. “Wait, really?”

You can’t even hide the glee in your voice and Sae, for the first time, smiles—even if he’s doing it as he rolls his eyes at you.

“Yes, stupid,” he tells you, chuckling as you hop slightly in excited. “Are we going or are you just gonna stand here like a little puppy?”

With excited nods and a little squeal, you clap your hands together before daring to put your fingers around his wrist, dragging him with you.

Sae follows quietly behind you, staring at you as you happily tread ahead, your hands warm and guarding his against the slightly chilly air, hair flowing in the wind and he suddenly thinks you’re even prettier than he first thought you were. And then he starts thinking that maybe this part of his life that’s planned by his parents isn’t so bad after all.

Though, when you get back to the hotel, you find out that Sae has already specially asked for two separate beds, to the surprise of all the hotel staff, because of course, Mrs Itoshi had booked the honeymoon suite for the both of you. Special requests for that room usually mean flowers on the bed, or breakfast just the way they like it—not for the groom of all people to be asking for a separate bed altogether, especially when he insists there is no additional person.

“I’ll sleep out here,” Sae tells you the moment you get back to the hotel that night, gesturing to the bed set up by the television, much to your bummer. But you suppose you can’t expect too much—hand holding was already a miracle in itself.

“Oh yeah, sure,” you shrug it off, like it doesn’t even matter. Deep down you feel like a rock was dropped from your throat to the bottom of your stomach, forming a gaping hole in your heart along the way that you tried to will into non-existence.

Still, somehow, despite this little obstacle, you find yourself optimistic after being witness to Sae’s change in demeanour.

“Hey, Y/N?”

When you turn around, you see a hint of hesitation flicker across his teal eyes before he shakes his head, brushing it off.

“It’s nothing, goodnight.”

Although you’re curious, you decide not to press him about it. Offering a small smile, you nod.

“Goodnight, Sae.”

Over the course of your entire honeymoon, you find that you shouldn’t be chiding yourself for being delusional in the first place.

For once in this one-sided love affair, you feel like perhaps it’s not so one-sided at all. Because from what you’ve learned about Sae in your close-to-minimal time together, he isn’t someone that you can force into doing anything he doesn’t want to. At least when it comes to mundane activities which includes trips. (Unless you’re his parents who you have no doubt in your mind probably mirrors your own and have their ways of controlling him, per se.)

But it’s hard to think he doesn’t want to do any of this with you when he’s so compliant. He follows your bucket list of things to do and doesn’t complain once. He lets you drag him to the palace and looks only slightly concerned when you tell him you want to “do the thing where we can dress up like royalty and take pictures” but he only sighs and concedes within seconds.

When he comes out of the room looking like the most handsome prince you’d ever met, you’re too shy to meet his gaze but he tilts your head up to look at him for most of the shots anyway. With his face so close to yours, with these kinds of small gestures which he willingly initiates, you begin to wonder if it’s possible to make him happy in this possibly loveless marriage.

Spending ten days together, surrounded by just each other and doing things that couples do; it nearly makes you feel as if this is real. Like Sae really loves you and that he had asked you to marry him one day out of the blue because of it. Nothing like how you felt that first time you met him, in your dressing room minutes before you were about to become husband and wife, being talked down to and told that this was a facade and could be nothing more.

Now he’s here with you, sticking close and following you around, entertaining your requests for activities, falling asleep on your shoulder when you were on the plane to Jeju, and sometimes he absentmindedly holds your hand like he’s used to it. He helps you with your luggage always, and he makes sure you get food whenever your stomach starts growling, and he’s more observant than you give him credit for because he starts picking the radish off your plate without you asking.

Your album’s suddenly filled with pictures of you and Sae and you were hesitant at first but dragging him to the amusement park when he wasn’t for it at first was a good decision; for a while, you get to see what he’s like when all the downturned lines on his face reverse, when he looks the most like an actual guy in his mid-twenties, enjoying life instead of brooding all the time. Thanks to that, your pictures are more both of you smiling or being goofy together instead of faceless pictures because neither of you feel like showing your faces at all.

By the time your honeymoon is about to come to an end, you find that maybe there’s hope for this after all. That maybe you’d just been overthinking everything prior to this and it shouldn’t be worth worrying over after the trip ends.

But you find that hope can be flimsy sometimes.

On the seventh night there, you and Sae are both on your bed, in the actual bedroom, fighting (not literally) over a multiplayer game. Just two adults hunched over one phone playing frustrating games meant for kids. (Somehow it makes you feel like perhaps neither of you ever had a normal childhood and this is something to make up for it.) It’s all fun and games until you see a throng of message notifications from dummy mixed in with several from what you presume to be Sae’s group chat with the guys.

And you can keep pretending like it doesn’t matter, except Sae immediately stops after the current round and tells you he has to take a call. And you already know more or less who he’s going to talk to. And just like that, you feel like you’re back to square one all over again.

The subsequent nights (and days) aren’t easy for you either. After just giving up on thinking and forcing yourself to sleep that night, you’d been stuck with paranoia everyday. Especially when you realise that he’s starting to take calls every night outside on the balcony where he’s sure you’re out of earshot.

You wonder if he’s being lovey dovey with her outside when he talks to her. You wonder if he imagines you as her when you’re out together. You wonder if he wishes you were her. You wonder if all this is just a gimmick; a test run for when he does the actual things with the actual girl he wants to do them with.

Safe to say, by your last night there, you’re a mess. The moment you get back from trying to be happy all day (which was a disaster because you wouldn’t stop trying to minimise contact with Sae), you tell him you’re too tired and that you’ll just go ahead and go to bed.

Which, of course, is code for ‘you just want to lie in bed and cry all night’.

Sae couldn’t even get a word out before you shut the door on him, plopping down onto the bed and crying into your pillow. Maybe holding everything in was a bad idea. Now you’re bursting with emotions and you try to call Reo a few minutes later but you can’t even get him because he’s busy somehow and you’re positive that the gods hate you right now.

There is one thing about being on rock bottom that you like, though; at least you know how you feel. You’re exhausted and upset and envious because you wish you could be that person for your husband. But you keep getting reminded that you’re not. That somehow you’re just a mere stand-in until he marries his real wife next time. The one he promised to love forever. (Technically, he vowed that to you on your wedding day too, but that’s not the same and you know it.)

Deciding to shut off your phone and have this time to yourself to cry your eyes out, you miss the sudden swarm of notifications that come in. And thanks to you stuffing your head into the pillow, you don’t notice Sae opening the door and peeking inside, an unfamiliar feeling settling inside him at the sound of you sobbing.

He gently closes the door behind him as he walks to you, your back turned to him, your hands and feet hanging onto the bolster like a koala to a branch. Slowly, he saunters over to you, almost like he’s afraid to. When his hand rests on your shoulder and he sinks into the mattress beside you, you stiffen up for just a moment before spinning around and sobbing into his chest instead.

You didn’t expect him to even enter your room at all, much less let you stain his shirt or hold you close when you’re being emotional like this, but he stays there, hand gently rubbing your arm, up and down, a gentle kiss placed on the top of your head. It makes you wonder what kind of games he’s playing. Is this Sae not being able to make up his mind and that’s why he’s still so nice to you even when he has his old flame in the back of his head?

“Do you… want me to leave you alone?” He asks, though you can argue it’s kind of a stupid question but then you realise he probably doesn’t know much about actual relationships so you let it slide.

You shake your head in response, deciding that as stupid as it all sounds, you want to throw your hat in the ring. You’ve fallen for him, and you want him for yourself.

And maybe it’s wrong of you to project this on him, but your absence of a normal family where a home is not just a house and where parents shower their children with actual love and concern makes you yearn for one yourself. And maybe it’s not a great idea to want that from a man you married from being forced to, but thanks to this honeymoon you can see that there’s a flicker of spark there.

That Sae’s not emotionless and he’s definitely not cold to you. Not anymore. That if you guys had been given more time instead of being rushed into things by your parents then maybe the whole wedding could’ve gone without any of the hitches you experienced. That every single radish he picked off your plate, every picture he took with you, every time he held your hand, every time he pulled you close—none of that was manufactured, was it?

So isn’t it possible for you to be happy with him? So is it still foolish or selfish of you to want to be with him?

Is it too much if you ask him about it?

“Hey, Sae?” Your voice is soft and timid and more vulnerable than you’ve ever shown, but he hears you loud and clear, his “hm?” resounding against his chest, right next to your ear. “Can you stay?”

A few seconds of pause, and he replies, “of course.”

You shake your head slightly. “I don’t mean that. I mean, you know, what we said on our wedding day.” Your voice is entirely muffled, still Sae understands.

There’s an even longer pause this time, and you think that Sae’s just thinking of a way to get out of this until you hear him speak up again.

“Idiot,” he chides, but you can hear the soft affection in his voice. Suddenly, you feel his pinky wrapping around your own, and he holds it near your face. “I promise you,” he whispers, and you wish you could see the expression on his face, “I’ll stay.”

It might be wishful thinking but you think he really means it.

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sister-lucifer · 1 month

Text

Talk About a Mind Fuck

Tim Wright/Masky x Ticci Toby

A COLLAB WITH @cryptidcircuswrites ! PLEASE CHECK OUT HIS VERSION HERE!

Genre: Gore smut

Summary: A mission goes awry and Toby is shot straight through the skull. Tim decides to take the new hole for a spin, and Toby is more than happy to let him have it.

Content/warnings: OHHH MY GOOOOD DONT FUCKING READ THIS IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH, Toby literally gets his brain fucked, bullet hole wound fucking, explicit gore, I cannot emphasize this enough STRAIGHT UP PENIS IN BRAIN SEX, brain creampie, guns/shooting/etc, age gap but everyone is a consenting adult, fake out death, Toby vomits a little at the end, cum leaking out of face holes it should never be in, mirror sex, rough dom top Tim, Tim bullies Toby for his trauma regarding his physically abusive father, use of homophobic language/slurs, degradation, just general nastiness, very mean spirited. NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. THIS IS AS DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT AS IT GETS.

A/N: if you skipped the warnings on this one or didn’t read them all the way, go back and fucking look at all of them, otherwise don’t read.

Breaking and entering.

It’s a routine for Tim and Toby at this point.

Tim can brute force open any door, Toby can pick any lock, and both of them have long since shaken off any qualms about taking a life. They’re skilled at it now, neither of them ever leaving the cabin without their weapon of choice. In a line of work like this one, after all, you can never be too prepared.

This was supposed to be easy.

Three people in the house, a couple and their third wheel squatting in an abandoned vacation home. Bare bones interior, probably no weapons.

Probably.

A lot of good ‘probably’ had done them.

Toby had gone in while Tim stood watch in the doorway, just in case one of their targets tried to run out. His revolver fit into his palm like a glove, his grip confident and ready. He’s done this a million times before.

Tim can only hear the altercation going on in the back rooms of the house, but he has a good idea of what’s happening.

The sound of a hatchet coming down onto a throat.

One down.

A woman screams. Something knocks over, a shelf or a table. A splatter. Silence.

Two down.

A man cries out. Something hits the wall. Rogers swears. There’s a struggle. A gunshot rings out.

…A gunshot.

A gunshot?!

Footsteps.

Fast, frantic footsteps coming down the hallway.

Tim readies himself, aiming towards the dark hall with a hand that is far too steady. He’s holding his breath. The steps are getting closer.

In a split second’s time the last target emerges from the shadows, Tim’s gaze zeroes in on the whites of his eyes and the trigger of his revolver is pulled by a swift finger one, two, then three times.

The shots ring in his ears as the body falls limply to the floor, devoid of life in an instant.

Three down.

But still one bullet unaccounted for.

“Rogers?” Tim calls into the hallway, stepping over the body without looking down.

No answer.

“Rogers!” He says again, with more authority this time.

Nothing.

That little fucker runs his mouth like an engine at all hours of the day, but now he’s quiet?

A stabbing pain of fear twists in Tim’s gut.

Their ‘boss’ won’t let them die, he knows that. The pseudo immortality they’ve been given keeps their bodies functioning and regenerating even after some of the worst injuries one could imagine; he knows that, he’s felt it, and yet…

This silence is sickening.

He can’t stop himself from rushing into the makeshift bedroom, heavy boots on the creaky wood floor announcing his presence before he calls for his partner again.

“Answer me, dammit, Rogers!”

He looks around the room, scanning the blood splattered walls. Two bodies are slumped against them, opposite to each other, one with its neck severed and the head hanging on by a thread of viscera, and the other with half of its innards thrown to the floor. Neither are Toby, he knows that in an instant.

Then his gaze trails to the center of the floor.

The cold washes over him so suddenly he feels faint. He can feel the color draining from his face as he lays eyes on his partner, face down on the ground, a thick splatter of blood painting a moonlit halo around his head.

Or what’s left of it, anyways.

A hastily fired bullet has carved a path through the boy’s skull and out the other side.

Clean through.

Tim’s body seizes with shock, disgust, grief, and everything in between, tensing so suddenly and so harshly he nearly passes out. A hand clamps over his mouth as it opens in a silent scream, a gasp that can’t escape because he can’t breathe. He rushes to the body before he can stop himself.

“Rogers?! Rogers, get up!” He demands, but the way his voice cracks and trembles shows his true fear. He shakes his partner’s still body harshly, desperate to jar him into consciousness.

There’s no movement.

Not a sound.

Tim’s eyes start to wet behind his mask. He shakes harder, even bringing a fist down on his shoulder blade.

Nothing.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Toby!” Tim screams, landing a few more punches on his back, “I’ve seen you take worse than this, get up!”

Not even a twitch.

The realization settles in like splinters under Tim’s skin.

He backs away from the body, the room spinning around him. He grasps at his face under his mask, his lungs starting to expand and restrict so fast it’s painful. There’s a searing panic burning the back of his skull and threatening to engulf his entire body. He stumbles back and falls onto one of the now bloodied mattresses their targets had been sleeping on.

This isn’t happening.

He’s not really gone.

He’s not really gone he’s not really gone he’s not really gone he’s not really gone he’s not really gone—

A sudden noise makes Tim jump out of his skin, his eyes shooting up to find the source of the sound.

Was that a…cough?

He looks down at Toby’s body.

It hasn’t moved.

Maybe it was just air escaping, or some other weird thing bodies do after death. If he didn’t get up already, then he must be…

Tim nearly screams when Toby suddenly splutters and hacks, his body jerking as he fights for air. Tim is frozen in place as he watches the partner he thought was dead slowly struggle to get up, managing to get on his hands and knees. He coughs again, spitting onto the ground and groaning at the unpleasant but not unfamiliar sight of blood.

“Yeugh…god, it’s in m-my nose,” Toby mumbles with a sniffle, wiping his face with his sleeve. He doesn’t notice Tim as he sits up on his knees, inspecting himself in a way that is far too casual.

…He has no idea what just happened.

Tim can feel his eye twitching as he stands up slowly, his frenzied gaze trained on the younger man as he approaches. Toby looks up at the sound of the footsteps, and Tim has to stop himself from reacting to the sight. His body trembles as he forces himself to stay still.

Toby’s right eye is completely gone. There’s not even a shred of the eyeball left, only a pulsing, bloody cavity he instantly recognizes as the entry hole of a bullet.

Toby blinks up at Tim with his remaining eye.

“S-Shit, I must’ve passed out when—bitch!—when h-he hit me, heh. What, you-you thought I was—grrrk!—d-dead for real?” Toby asks with a head tilt and an amused giggle. Tim’s eyes narrow.

Slowly Tim turns his head, following the imaginary trail the bullet would have made based on where Toby fell.

Right there, lodged into the decrepit wall right next to the doorway.

The first bullet.

Clean through, and out the back.

Toby follows his gaze, squinting in the dark to see whatever it is his senior partner is seeing.

“…O-Oh shit,” He mutters, “Talk about a-a close—don’t listen!—a close call—c-call—call me!—hehe…”

Tim stares back at him with a look in his eyes that says ‘You have no fucking idea.’

“…W-Why are you looking at me— a-at me like that?”

Tim looks around. For some reason, he’s not sure how to answer that.

That is, until he lays eyes on a conspicuously mirror shaped object draped in a sheet and pushed into the corner.

Yeah, it’s easier to just show him.

Tim shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he walks over to the mirror, trying not to rush. He’s annoyed with Toby for scaring him like that and nearly bringing him to tears, even if it’s not really his fault. Maybe startling him a bit will take the edge off that embarrassment.

Toby’s eye follows him closely as he walks, then watches as his hand slowly raises to grasp the sheet obscuring the mirror. His brow raises, curiosity piqued.

The sheet is pulled away in an instant. The cloud of dust that results makes Toby cough, trying to wave it away from his face. He squints through the grimy mist, struggling to make out his own reflection in the mirror.

“L-Look, Tim, I don’t know what it-it is that you n-need me to—suck it! fuck you!—see, but I-I don’t— Oh my fucking God?!”

There it is.

Toby crawls closer to the mirror, his remaining eye wider than Tim had ever seen it and the hole where the matching one would’ve been stretching gruesomely.

Tim winces. Toby can’t feel it, even if he could feel pain normally all that nerve damage would make it numb, but Tim can’t stop imagining what it would feel like.

“…Jesus Christ…” Is all Toby can manage as he looks at what remains of his face. He feels around the wound, getting far too close to touching the exposed insides for Tim’s comfort. Toby stares at himself for a long few moments. Tim can’t tell what he’s thinking.

Then Toby turns to his partner, and to Tim’s surprise, he’s sporting the widest, most lopsided grin he’s ever seen, his crooked teeth stained with blood on one side where it runs down his cheek from the wound. Tim holds back a shudder.

“The fuck you cheesin’ for?” Tim growls, walking around behind Toby to see him in the mirror, “You nearly got half your damn face blown off!”

“Relax, o-old man!” Toby replies without missing a beat, “In a-a few days there won’t e-even be a— b-be a mark…”

Tim rolls his eyes behind his mask. That’s true, yes. An injury this extensive will take a bit to regenerate, but it’ll grow back like nothing happened. Still, Toby doesn’t even seem mildly disturbed. He practically saw himself die, and here he is giggling to himself and moving his face in odd ways just to see the horrid wound contort in the mirror. The quiet squelching noises it makes nearly bring Tim to vomit.

“…You’re not even a little put off by the fact that…you know. You’re missing half your fuckin’ face?!”

Toby lets out a sharp laugh at Tim’s outburst, amused by his clear discomfort.

“Don’t be s-such a—bitch! bastard!— baby, I-I think it’s—asshole!—I think it’s k-kinda cool. Besides…”

He turns to look up at Tim, yellow teeth glowing in the moonlight that leaks in through the busted windows.

“…I-I got a brand new hole f-for you to try out.”

Tim gasps in disgust. Before he can think a hand comes up to smack Toby upside the head, though he immediately regrets it when a splatter of blood is thrown to the floor as Toby rocks forward.

“Don’t say shit like that, you dirty fuckin’ pervert!”

Toby nearly breaks out into hysterics at that, grabbing his sides as he laughs like a maniac. His tics increase tenfold at the sudden rush of energy, his fingers flexing unnaturally and tearing at his sweatshirt.

“H-How can I not?! You m-make it so f-fucking—fuck! funny!— fun, haha!” Toby replies, his voice cracking as his head jerks involuntarily in all directions.

Tim crosses his arms, huffing in annoyance but not sure what to say. He can feel his cheeks getting warm under his mask. He hates when Toby laughs at him. It pisses him off like nothing else.

He stares daggers into Toby’s restless reflection as he leans into the mirror to inspect his wound again, mumbling to himself endlessly and doing his best to stay still.

Toby’s rambling starts to fade out as Tim glares at his mirror image. He can feel something dark bubbling up inside of him, its vines sprawling out and over his body as he marinates in his thoughts.

He thought he was gone.

For a second there, he really thought he’d lost Toby for good.

And now here he is, without a care in the world, looking at his own fucking gunshot wound like it’s a new tattoo.

Someone oughta teach this kid a lesson.

Tim’s not sure what comes over him, but something, a nagging little thought has settled into his brain and taken root there. It thumps in the back of his skull like a heartbeat under the floorboards. He pulls one of his hands from its glove, looking down at his bare palm.

“…You think this is all some joke, don’t you?” Tim mutters, forcing the words through gritted teeth. Toby doesn’t even turn to look at him.

“W-Why are so damn u-uptight, old man? It’s not—grrrk!—it’s not like I d-died. Psuedo-immortality, r-remember?”

“But you could’ve. You know at the end of the day you can’t really trust anything that monster gives you. It would kill you in an instant if it felt threatened or betrayed.”

“T-The fuck is your— i-is your problem?!”

Suddenly Toby isn’t all smiles anymore. His head jerks to the side violently, pulling a sickening pop from his neck. Tim is used to these mood swings, but that doesn’t stop the heavy tension that settles over the room.

“Y-You’re always on my back about something, a-aren’t you old man?!” Toby hisses. Tim’s ungloved hand squeezes and flexes at his side.

“You a-always got something to say about m-me, or what I—fucker! shit!—what I-I think, you can never j-just let me—“

Toby is cut off as a high pitched cry is violently forced from his throat, making his body spasm as it dissolves into an animalistic moan like neither of them have ever heard. It feels like every nerve in his body is seizing, splitting apart and contorting under his skin. He almost screams at the feeling, but he can’t manage it. He’s choking on nothing.

There’s a sickening squelch as something is ripped from the back of his skull, and he falls forward onto his hands, dizzy and struggling to breathe.

“W-What…what the f-fuck…was…”

He can’t even finish the sentence between his inability to process the unnatural sensation that just overtook him and the indescribable feeling still rippling through his body.

Slowly he cranes his neck to look back up into the mirror. Instantly his eye is locked onto Tim’s, but he isn’t looking back. He’s staring at something else.

He follows Tim’s gaze down slowly, swallowing thickly with a sudden nervousness. His eye widens as it falls on the thing that has captivated Tim‘s gaze:

His ungloved hand, the middle and ring fingers now dripping with blood and viscera not his own.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Did…d-did you just…”

Tim doesn’t answer.

He doesn’t have to.

For the first time in a long time, Toby is still. His twitching and jerking ceases, his face halts its uncomfortable wrenching; He’s still, and soundless.

There’s a beat of silence where they both just stare at Tim’s bloodied hand, neither of them moving an inch. It’s like time has stopped in this instant. Toby can feel his heartbeat throbbing in his brain. Something in his chest is twisting and turning with a burning emotion he can’t quite place yet.

He doesn’t even have time to process the sudden movement before Tim has plunged his fingers into the wound once again.

This time Toby is forced to watch his reflection in the mirror as Tim violates the gorey cavity, thick digits rooting around inside his head and shooting a new sensation through him with every touch. His entire body stiffens, his mouth falling open involuntarily as he loses control of it. He can feel his senses being reduced to mush as he groans, the endless sound falling from his lips in unintelligible waves. It’s mindless, desperate babbling, but he can’t do anything else.

Toby watches the depraved scene in the mirror until his eye starts to roll back in his head, further than it should be able to. Tim watches the hazel iris recede until only white is left. Only then does he finally give some reprieve, yanking his hand back and shaking off the chunks that come with it.

Toby’s head bows towards the ground as he catches his breath, his entire body rocking as he heaves desperately for air. He’s too preoccupied to notice the way Tim is leering down at him, his breathing now hot and labored.

“…How did that feel?”

Toby sneers at the question, not looking up.

“H-How did it feel?! You’re d-digging around—shhhh!— in m-my fucking brain, d-dipshit, how do you— d-do you think it f-feels?!”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. I know it doesn’t hurt, so how does it feel?”

For some reason, Toby doesn’t have an answer to that. He wants to snap back with something witty and biting, to tell him it feels like Hell and back and if he doesn’t stop he’ll scatter his brains next, but…

That wouldn’t be the total truth.

“…It…I-It feels…” He stammers, unable to find the words. He sits back up on his knees, locking eyes with his partner in the mirror. Tim is silent. He’s anticipating the rest of that sentence. Toby thinks for a moment, a series of tongue clicks in an odd rhythm sounding as he pauses.

“…It…I-It wasn’t bad, if that’s w-what you’re looking for.”

Tim’s breath hitches.

Only Toby could hear a sound so small, yet so telling.

He has to push this further.

“A-Actually it was kind of…k-kind of good, y-you know? I-I don’t know—rrrngh!—how to explain it, but i-it just…it’s like n-nothing I’ve ever f-felt or imagined, I-I—“

Toby cuts himself off with a gasp as Tim grasps his hair tightly. His other hand moves to his belt. The sound of the metal buckle makes Toby shiver.

Tim leans down a bit, speaking lowly to his partner.

“Keep talking.”

Toby’s stomach flips.

Tim’s not giving him a choice.

“I-It’s like…fuck, it’s l-like every muscle in my— in my b-body is spasming like c-crazy,” Toby continues, watching with crazed eyes as Tim slides the belt from its loops. He grits his teeth as it clatters to the ground.

He doesn’t want this to stop.

He has to keep going.

“I-It’s like f-fire under my skin, b-but I can’t feel t-the burn…”

Tim’s hand moves to the fly of his jeans.

“…I-I lose all control of m-my body, I can’t—fuck off!—I-I can’t even think, i-it just all turns i-into gibberish…”

Tim tugs down his zipper, and Toby can see his twitching bulge straining against his boxers.

“…It’s l-like I can feel myself l-losing my mind, and I c-can’t do anything— d-do anything about it, I c-can’t even p-put—put it back! put it back!—put together a sentence…”

Tim hooks a thumb under the waistband of his boxers. He starts to push them down.

“…F-Fuck, Tim, I-I wanna feel it again.”

Toby clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle the moan that threatens to break free as he watches Tim’s erection spring free from the confines of his clothes. He’s thick and uncut, throbbing with rabid need. Toby shudders as his partner lets out a relieved groan, breathing hard under his mask.

“S-Shit, Tim…y-your—your cock! your cock!—n-no! I mean you’re—your cock! your cock! fat cock!—dammit! I-I didn’t mean to s-say that—!”

“I’m taking you up on your offer, Rogers…” Tim growls, cutting off Toby’s attempt to explain himself. He grabs Toby’s head with both hands, fingers digging into the front of his wound on one side and the gash in his cheek on the other. This time Toby doesn’t bother to stop the moan that crawls up his throat as he feels Tim’s cock rut against the back of his head.

“…I wanna give this new hole of yours a proper fucking. What do you say?”

Toby can’t see Tim’s mouth, but he can tell he’s smiling from the way his eyes crinkle at the corners behind his mask. Toby groans at the thought. He can’t stop the crooked grin that spreads across his pale face like butter on a hot pan.

“P…P-Please, Tim,” He whispers, and he knows he’s hit a nerve when he feels Tim‘s grip tighten for a moment.

“…Please what, Rogers?”

He figured he wouldn’t get it that easy.

“Please, Tim,” Toby continues, sucking in a breath and swallowing his pride, “I-I want you t-to fuck me, please—“

Tim ruts against the back of his head again, barely brushing his wound. He wants more.

“P-Please, fuck, I-I’m—need! give it!—I’m begging you! I need it, I-I need you to fuck m-my brains out, please!”

Tim shifts his hips. He’s lining up at the opening.

It’s working.

“Please, please, p-please, Tim, I-I want you to f-fuck my brain! I n-need to—fffuck! fuck! fuck!—I need t-to feel it! Please, dammit, j-just fucking—!”

Toby doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.

Tim shoves himself inside the bloody cavity without warning, forcing Toby’s brain out of the way as his cock enters. The scream that rocks Toby’s body is as lustful as it is carnal and gruesome. He reaches up on instinct and grabs Tim’s wrists, not trying to pull his hands away but holding on for dear life before he loses the ability to move at all.

“You broke so easy,” Tim sneers as he bottoms out, talking over Toby’s uncontrollable moaning, “What would the others think if they saw you begging for dick like a whore on the street? Huh?!”

He punctuates his sentence with a sudden rut of his hips, making Toby yelp and his body jerk. His nails dig into Tim’s arms, and the pain is delicious.

Tim studies the scene before him in the mirror.

It’s disgusting. It’s horrid. He can see the tip of his leaking cock resting inside his partner’s skull.

He doesn’t want this to end.

He’s going to relish this opportunity, every sickening moment of it.

“What would they think…”

Tim starts to pull back, breath trembling at the slick noises from the movement.

“…If they knew I had you whining for me like a dirty fuckin’ sissy?!”

He pushes back in with even more force than before. Blood is forced out the front of the wound, dripping down Toby’s face and onto the floor, leaving a red trail on his skin. His meaningless babbling is music to Tim’s ears.

Again Tim pulls back, faster this time, and pushes in again. He watches Toby’s face in the mirror as he finds his rhythm, completely enamored as it contorts with overwhelming sensations that no human should ever experience. His mouth is hanging completely open, his tongue limp and lying against his chin as he pants and wails desperately like a dog in heat. He’s starting to drool from the lack of muscle control.

There’s something about watching Toby quite literally lose his mind at his hand that makes Tim feel like God.

“You know, I like you a lot better when you can’t run your mouth,” Tim says with a chuckle. He digs his fingers into the front of the wound, groping around in the cavity and feeling the pulsing meat shift under the pads of his fingertips.

“You’re lucky I’m not gonna tell anyone about this, not gonna tell the others you’re a nasty fuckin’ faggot who’s so desperate for dick you’d take it in your brain…at least someone’s finally making use of the lump of meat in your head, eh?!”

He pulls Toby’s skull back on his cock hard and fast, fucking into the hole with more fervor than he thought possible. His arms are bleeding now from where Toby’s nails are digging in, his knuckles locked up as his motor function is ripped to shreds.

Tim’s eyes trail down the reflection as he thrusts, down to Toby’s body and stopping at the tent in his pants. There’s a painfully obvious stain on his groin now where his erection is straining against the denim of his jeans with wretched need. His precum is leaking through the material in viscous waves, a constant stream of shameful arousal. It looks like it hurts, like his zipper is about to burst, but Tim has no interest in granting him even that small mercy of freeing his hard-on.

“Damn,” He mumbles to himself, watching the liquid pool where the tip of his partner’s cock pushes against his pants, “You really are enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re not just tolerating it to see how far I’ll go, you’re getting off on this shit! You’re a dirty fuckin’ boy slut!”

He’s getting mean, meaner than he really needs to be, but he doesn’t care. Toby might not even be able to hear him, and even if he can, Tim’s not going to waste this chance while his partner can’t snap back.

He ruts his hips more intentionally, trying to hit every spot he can. He’s catching on to patterns, that certain touches here or there make Toby twitch or jerk or yelp involuntarily. His eye has rolled back in his head almost completely. It looks agonizing, and it only makes Tim thrust faster.

“Then again, in that messed up little mind of yours I bet this is nothing. You’re so used to gettin’ beat on this practically soft to you, ain’t it?! Or did your old man slam your head into the concrete too many times for you to know the damn difference?!”

Tim’s practically screaming at him now, drool running down his chin and neck as he loses himself to the pleasure. It’s unbearably hot under his mask, but he can’t bring himself to release his death grip on Toby’s head to take it off.

“I should’ve put you in your place a long time ago, lord knows you’ve needed it for who knows how long!”

Tim angles his hips upward a bit, brushing against a certain spot that makes Toby tense and cry out suddenly. The thing Tim notices most, though, is the way Toby’s cock twitches in his pants. It spurts just a bit, not climaxing yet but getting dangerously close. The stain on the front of his pants is only growing with each passing second that Tim violates his brain.

“Oh, you really are disgusting,” Tim huffs, “You’re really about to cum in your pants, and I haven’t even touched your cock? That’s pathetic, Rogers.”

Tim angles his hips up again just to watch the precum gush from his partner’s tip, his stomach flipping in his gut at the thought that Toby is so, so damn close, but he can’t beg for more or touch himself or even move at all.

“Nngh…Like hell I’m gonna let a little bitch boy like you cum first, though.”

He takes a moment to adjust his grip. He’s preparing for the last stretch.

The speed of his thrusting increases tenfold, completely losing all sense of rhythm. He can feel the pleasure taking him over, melting his resolve and screaming at him to go, go, go, just keeping going, go until you can’t anymore, and that’s exactly what he intends to do.

“You better take all of my cum, Rogers,” Tim growls through gritted teeth, “Though I ain’t exactly giving you a choice, am I? You’ll take it whether you like it or not…”

He hasn’t looked away from Toby’s face in the mirror. The sight of it twitching and frozen in a state of screaming ecstasy is like a horrific work of art. Tim’s never going to forget it. He won’t forget any of this. Every second is burned into his brain, and he’s more than happy to keep it that way.

The gory cavity is carved into the shape of Tim’s cock by now, each thrust only feeding the growing puddle of blood and viscera on the ground below Toby. That stain will stay there forever, Tim thinks. A permanent reminder of the debauchery the two of them are so gleefully partaking in. The idea of someone else finding this old house scattered with bodies, walking around and not even knowing the half of what these walls have been subjected to…

God, that’s good.

The knot in Tim’s stomach starts to tighten.

He can’t hold on for much longer. Neither can Toby.

Tim angles his hips in that special way again, hitting that sensitive spot over and over and over again with each frenzied thrust. Toby’s practically soaking himself now, so close to the edge but not quite close enough to fall off, though he runs the risk with each passing second. It’s barely a matter of time.

Faster, faster, faster, that’s the only thing Tim can think.

More, more, more, that’s all he can think about.

Faster, faster, faster, more, more, more, more, more more more moremoremore—

“Shit!”

Suddenly Tim throws his head back with a wild noise, his cock releasing without warning into the bloody cavity he’s been so graciously desecrating. At the same time he brushes that spot again, and it’s finally enough to give Toby his release, too, only a second later. His cum soaks the front of his now completely ruined jeans, the shameful stain running down his groin and thighs. The scream he lets out as his climax rocks his body will haunt Tim’s dreams.

Tim’s thrusting doesn’t slow to a stop until it feels like his balls are empty. Only then does he finally go still, allowing himself to breathe. He looks up at the ceiling as he pants, letting his eyes flutter closed for a moment as his orgasm gradually washes away.

Finally Tim allows his fingers to unfurl, releasing Toby as he pulls his cock from his ruined skull. It comes back soaked in blood and sticky with viscera, taking a few chunks with it. He tries to step back, but Toby’s still gripping his wrists.

He manages to shake him off, only for Toby’s body to go completely limp and fall forward, face first onto the dusty wood floor and into the puddle of mixed bodily fluids. He twitches a bit, but doesn’t move or show any signs of life beyond that. Anyone else would think he’s dead.

“I’m not falling for that again,” Tim mumbles with an eye roll, using his discarded glove to wipe off his now flaccid cock before tucking it back into his boxers and zipping up his pants.

He crouches over Toby, grabbing his hair and forcing him up from the floor back onto his knees. All Toby can manage is a pathetic groan. Tim studies his partner’s fucked-out face in the mirror for a moment, watching as the blood and seed lazily roll down his cheek and chin. He can’t help but chuckle to himself.

“…Anything to say for yourself?” Tim asks teasingly, shaking him a bit.

The only response he gets is the sound of gagging as Toby retches. Tim barely moves back in time to watch him cough up a horrible concoction of blood, cum, and God knows what else without being in the splash zone.

“Goddammit, watch it!” Tim scolds cruelly, “If you hurl on my new boots I’m leaving you like this.”

He at least has the decency to let Toby finish before scooping up his limp, helpless body. He carries him under his arm like a log, not taking any care to be gentle.

“I’ll get you back home to Eyeless,” Tim mutters, “He doesn’t ask too many questions, and he’ll patch you up good ‘til you’re all healed…”

Tim tries not to think too hard as he carries his partner out of the house, away from the crime scene and into the endless wooded darkness.

All is quiet for a moment, save for the sound of Tim’s heavy steps on the dry leaves. That is, until what Tim thinks is a muffled giggle sounds from his partner. He stops and looks back, but there’s no more noise.

Dammit, he thinks.

Neither of us are going to be forgetting this.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 11 months

Text

No Pain, No Gain | Part 4, Final | PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem!reader

A:N: Thank you all soooo much for joining me on this one, it was a blast to write. This chapter kinda made me feral writing it ngl. Cheers to my hype mama @ewanmitchellcrumbs <3 And I know I mentioned it in the first part but really it’s Ange as well as @valeskafics @oneeyedvisenya and @sapphire-writes that inspired me to write this from their AMAZING modern fics, so please give them all the love as well.

Series Masterlist | Warnings under the cut!

warnings: SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, pussy slapping, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, Aemond being mean during sex lowkey love it tho

Lucky for you, the flight wasn’t too long.

Even though you had Baela on your shoulder snoozing, nothing could tear your mind off the sheer idiocy of the previous week.

You’d fucking kissed him.

Or he’d kissed you? At this point the whole memory was foggy.

All you know is that you were mere seconds away from tearing his fucking clothes off in his home gym and letting him have you on any flat surface there was.

You thought how wrong it was. You were paying this guy!

And yet there was a lingering feeling in the back of your mind, a heat clawing its way up your neck, like a constant ache almost at the thought of what would have happened if you hadn’t bolted. The endless possibilities were…vividly playing on your brain the entire plane journey.

‘Fucking perfect’

Even his voice had made a permanent home in your mind, his hot breath against your ear as he pinned you against the wall, allowing you to feel just how turned on he had been.

You obeyed Baela’s wishes and only told Maris about the kiss.

It turned out that Baela’s Dad, Daemon, had really gone all out for this retreat. In a place called Lys (which you’d scarcely heard of) on the other side of the island from where the airport was, it was quiet, with only the odd resident along the streets, but for the most part it was completely remote. You’d have to thank him for the personal taxi later.

Baela had slept through the plane journey entirely so now she just looked out the windows tiredly.

“Is your Dad and Rhaenyra already there?” you ask, seemingly breaking her from a tired trance.

She stretches, “Yeah they’ve been here ages already, the rest of the fam are here as well, we’re the last”

“Why’s that?” you ask.

Baela smirks mischievously, “There’s some tension at the moment, flights were staggered for the sake of people’s sanity”

“Oh right”

You can still hear his voice, the breathy tone he’d used.

‘Fuck…’

Bad girl. Stop it.

At least it’d be nice to have the better part of a week abroad, miles and miles away from the man in question who was making every thought sinful. You could finally relax.

“Is it a big resort?” you asked.

“Oh it’s not one big place, we’ve all got separate little villas. You and I are with Rhaena and her boyfriend, Cregan. Alicent and her fam are in the one next to us. Dad’s done us the courtesy of being the furthest away so we can’t hear him and Rhaenyra going at it”

“Ew Baela” you scrunch your nose, “Is Alicent nice?”

“Nice enough to us. Look out for Aegon though”

“The manwhore one, right. The one we ran into?”

“Yeah, I didn’t tell him you were coming for a reason. The slut will be all over you”

“Yeah no thanks, I might get syphilis” you joke, smoothing your hands over your legs.

You’d changed on the plane to a pair of black shorts and a tank top, and it was a good job you did. It was hot in Lys. Bloody roasting. And if that wasn’t bad enough. It was humid as well, which meant the forgoing of a bra. But c'est la vie, you supposed, you were on holiday, you looked great, felt great and couldn’t wait to get in the sun and just soak it all up.

You and Baela spent the last 30 minutes of the journey installing Tinder on your phone to check out the selection of men (and women, just out of curiosity) in Lys. But being a small island, you were picking up on people who lived hours away, in places you’ve never heard of either.

To your dismay, not many people on Tinder in Lys, shockingly. So you stuffed your phone away as you pulled up to the resort. The resort, or at least the one which you’d share with Rhaena and Cregan, was a single floored villa with what you assumed was two bedrooms on each side. It was nice and quaint.

“Cute” you comment.

Next to that little villa was another bigger one, two floors, slightly more bedrooms you’d wager. That must be where Alicent would be staying.

“She still came even though Viserys died?” you ask Baela, but she only raises her eyebrows.

“It’s not like they were in love”

Fair.

Between the two villas there was a large shared pool that was separated into two sections and a tiny kiosk in the corner where a bartender was packing away stock. Rounding the taxi, you pull your luggage out with a huff.

“Bartender is not too shabby” Baela wiggles her eyebrows and you shove her playfully.

She’s right. He ain’t bad looking at all. Suitably tanned, perhaps even a native to the island, his white shirt only serves to emphasise the way his arms are so toned. It’s a nice distraction for sure, even if nothing ends up happening.

It’s still early afternoon so plenty of time to get dressed and soak up the sun. But as you’re pulling your suitcase out of the taxi, you’re ogling the bartender so hard that it falls out the boot of the car.

“Christ” you whisper.

A woman from the bigger villa rounds the corner with long, curled auburn hair. You assume she must be Alicent, but she looks far too young to have four kids all grown up. She gives Baela a polite wave and turns, “Boys, help them with their bags, would you?”

“Oh no, we’re fine!” you say back, giving her a wave and kneeling to the floor to pick up all your bags.

“Thanks Aeg” Baela says as her bag is plucked from her grasp easily. You pull one bag over your shoulder and attempt to pull your suitcase to its side.

“Struggling?”

You froze.

Oh fuck.

You knew that voice. But you dare not look up.

You stand with your hand on the handle of your suitable, eyes fixed solely on anywhere but where you know he is stood, smirking.

An involuntary breath manages to escape when his large hand, the one you remembered pressing against your waist last time, brushed against yours to wrap around the handle of the suitcase. He takes it effortlessly, making you finally look up at him.

He makes no secret of eyeing every bit of you, savouring the parts he’s never seen before, like the expanse of your legs, having previously always been covered by gym leggings. Smooth and leading to the spot where his eye pauses for a moment. To the tops of your thighs sneaking out of your shorts, he eyes them as well with a dark, determined look. The corner of his lip curled up somewhat once he saw the tank top and your lack of anything underneath.

He looks disgustingly good, at least since the last time you saw him. Hair once again, in that slutty fucking bun.

He’s only wearing shorts, perhaps he’d been sunbathing as well, but clearly not had much of a tan yet. His chest, which you’d never seen bare before, was glistening under the sun, toned and well defined with lines running all over. You caught yourself from looking at the dip of his hips, at the lines leading down to where you knew you wouldn’t be able to not look if you did. So you painfully refrained and looked back into his mismatched eyes, at the glowing pride sitting there at your obvious ogling of his form.

He chuckles quietly and takes your suitcase to take into your room, as if he just needed an excuse to see the inside of it. You stood stock still in your position, watching the muscles of his back move as he walks, as if he just knows you’re watching him.

Which of course, you are.

You bite the inside of your cheek, both ragingly horny and annoyed at the same time.

And when you look over at Baela, she bites her lip, mouthing I didn’t know.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you” you whispered and she laughed nervously, as if really believing you’d do it.

Once the two Targaryen brothers had evacuated your rooms, you pushed Baela inside your shared room and slammed the door.

“Woah woah chill, what’s the big deal?” she asked, searching your eyes.

“Baela, why the fuck is he here?” you whisper, clearly stressed.

“The fuck is up with you?”

“Fuck’s sake, Baela, we kissed!”

She’s quiet for a moment and you expect her to freak out, but she just raises an eyebrow, “Is that it?”

“Baela!”

“You didn’t bang?”

“Fuck’s sake, no! I mean… we might have if I hadn’t run off…but it felt too weird-I was paying him-”

“You ran off?” Baela snorts.

“Shut the fuck up”

“What are you afraid of dick now?”

“Baela, I just-I couldn’t, it felt too weird-it’s not like I didn’t want to but-fuck”

Baela puts her arms on your shoulders, “Babe, calm down. Listen, he's not your personal trainer anymore, mm’kay? He’s just ‘creepy Aemond’, now get your ass in that bikini so we can see the fruits of your labours alright? Get in that fucking sun”

“He’s not creepy, Bae” you reply, exasperated by the situation you’ve been put in.

“Regardless, get out there. Show him what he’s missing” Baela winks, zipping open her bag to get her swimming stuff, “You’re hot, y/n. Show him”

With an annoyed sigh, you shed your clothes, not caring about whether you’re naked in front of Baela or not. A few years in a house-share with her meant you’d walked in on each other nude more than once.

“Well?” she grins, you look over, bottom half of the black bikini now on, and your jaw drops.

“Oh my god” you say, looking over at her. She has a bikini of her own, pale blue in colour and one that compliments her skin tone well. Hers has ties that she’s double knotted, “You look fit”

“Thank you” she says with a smile, as if she knows it anyway.

You pull your bikini top on, making sure your boobs are well rested and adjusted inside the top. The bottoms are double knotted at the hips, the top a classic one that ties around your neck and back. Once the girls are where they’re meant to be, you look over yourself in the mirror, and you had to admit, the one month program did a number on you. Thighs and legs, slightly more toned, curves smoothed over, arms had a bit more shape to them, but nothing that screamed ‘ah yeah I work out’. And more than anything, the ass looked amazing. You knew you had an ass anyway, but now…

“What do you think?” you ask Baela, pulling your hair up messily.

She looks at you in the mirror, “I give it a day” she says as she smears lotion over her body.

“Until?”

“Til Aemond’s had you on every flat surface here”

“You’re fucking gross, you know that”

“Bet you 5 gold dragons”

“You’re on, bitch”

Once suitably sun-creamed up, skin glistening with it, you rest your sunglasses on top of your head and take a deep breath, going out to be greeted by the warm, humid air. Luckily, only Aegon seems to be sat outside on a sunbed at the moment, his hat resting over his face. Baela happily passes you a bright orange cocktail, and not quite ready to get into the pool, you sit on the side and dip your legs in, the smell of chlorine making you feel like you were finally on holiday.

Aegon lifts his hat, squinting, “Hello ladies”

Baela dips into the pool, “Manwhore”

“Well that’s not very nice”

Aegon doesn’t make any further effort to speak, plopping his hat back over his face, one airpod in his ear. Sipping the cool drink you scan the area. The villas are cute and luxurious and from here down the cobbled path you can see the beach that backs onto it all, the glaring white sand calling to you and the rush of the waves against them are somewhat calming.

The little bar in the corner plays some quiet music, not loud enough to disturb anyone from their sunbathing or other holiday-like activities. Alicent sits on the other side underneath a parasol, she’s wearing a classy one-piece and for a woman with four kids grown up, she doesn’t show it one bit, slender and youthful. She reads a book in her lap, sunglasses rested firmly on her nose, a diet-coke in one hand.

The only sound at the moment was the quiet music and the rippling of water as Baela swam leisurely in the pool, careful not to get her hair wet.

It was nice.

Down the cobbled path, you hear the grunts of what sound like two male voices. Arching an eyebrow and tipping your sunglasses up, there’s two men, suitably broad, making their way up to your villa.

“Ah, my favourite cousin has arrived!” this guy is shorter, but not short by any means, he has wild curly brown hair and wearing shorts that reach to about his knees. Not a red flag per se but…

Baela splashes him from her spot in the pool, “See you two are getting along famously”

The other guy with him you recognise as Cregan Stark, Rhaena’s current boyfriend. You’d seen him around when you were at university, but the years had been kind to him and he’d broadened significantly, with a dark beard and a smattering of chest hair covering his torso. At least he’s opted for more stylish shorts though. You give him a polite wave which he returns, he’d always been a softie, it seems that hadn’t changed. Good for Rhaena.

Jace flashes a smile your way, “Is this the infamous y/n?” he asks, rounding the pool to come and stand beside you to introduce himself, “I’m Jace”

It’s at this moment that Aemond comes out of his villa, towel in hand. You try your damndest to not look in his direction as he throws his towel at the sunbed next to Aegon, but when you break and do, he’s not even looking at you. He’s staring daggers into the back of Jace’s head, gaze dark as if he wants to take the poor guy’s head clean off. And he makes a fucking meal out of his, only briefly flitting to you before looking away.

Oh.

You bite back a smile.

“Nice to meet you” you say, shaking his hand politely, looking back to Baela and pulling an awkward look. She’s doing the same thing with her eyebrow raised.

“I’m the other cousin, my brother’s Luke and Joff are in the villa over” he says excitedly. Gods he’s like…a puppy. Even though he very well could be the same age or older, he’s vibrating with excitement. It’s kind of a turn off.

“You’re Rhaenyra’s kids right?” you ask, politely pretending to be interested.

He nods, “Yeah, you probably won’t see her. Her and Daemon are always in the cities being tourists”

This attempt at conversation is…taking it all from you. He’s cute, but not fuckable cute. And with Aemond in your peripheral pretending to be on his phone, but secretly watching every word that’s exchanged, it’s kind of exciting to see him…jealous perhaps.

You just nod and agree to whatever he says. Aemond visibly bristles, tongue poking the inside of his cheek when Jace signs off with, “You’re welcome to come to our villa whenever you want”

A bit…forward if anything. But you thank him politely and Jace eventually retreats down the cobbled path to his villa, which he’s helpfully stated is only about a 2 minute walk.

Cregan asks, “Where’s Rhaena?”

“At the beach”

Cregan gives a polite smile, going off to the white sandy beach in search of his girlfriend. Baela swims up to you, leaning on the side of the pool as you sip the last of your cocktail.

“Is he always so adept with women?” you ask with a smirk, Baela snorts, “several times I caught him looking below the chin”

“Can you blame him” Baela returns, “Nah, he’s harmless really, you coming in?” she asks, swimming on her back to the middle of the pool.

Sighing, you pull the sunglasses from your head and put them aside, padding over to the ladder.

Even though you don’t look, you feel the intensity of his gaze. Raking all over your skin, as if the more he stares, the more skin he’ll be able to see. Perhaps he’d wondered what you looked like beneath the black fabric of the bikini, what it might feel like to undo the ties of them and let the fabric peel off your moistened skin, exposing your most intimate areas to the humid air.

Your skin blossoms at the thought, even with how hot it is. The sun makes it no easier to cool off from these musings, only serving to intensify the electric bolt that radiates between the both of you, becoming stronger the closer you are to him.

He watches as your legs dip into the pool the further you descend down the ladder, the water moistening your sun-cream lotioned skin, slipping away in waves as the droplets lap against your toned thighs. Aemond thinks he might die on the spot when the water surges against your breasts, instantly making the supple skin there glisten in the sun.

And if that wasn’t enough, you reach up in a surprisingly tempting gesture and pull the clip from your hair. He’d rarely seen your hair down, but here with the ends dipping into the pool, each strand glimmering a soft halo around your head with the afternoon glow, the reins he has pulled taut inside his head are slipping recklessly.

Pretending to scroll through his phone, his brother Aegon smirks beneath his hat, shamelessly watching Aemond’s resolve slowly crumble. But you do a good job of barely looking at him for the remainder of the afternoon. The same cannot be said for him.

He realises he’s fucked when Baela, the ever playful person she is, dunks you below the water and every bit of you is wet, water cascading off every curve as you laugh and wipe your eyes. Even when you pull yourself onto the ladder out of the pool, giving him the perfect view of your ass, pulling the bikini a little bit up your hips as you do so, he manages to somehow hold it together.

Being late in the afternoon, the sun’s beginning to make its way down, so with a slight shiver you pull a towel around you, raking some fingers through your wet hair to get the chlorine-induced tangles out. You lean over the bar, waiting for the bartender to turn around,

“Baela, what do you want?”

“Whatever you’re having!”

The bartender flashes a smile once he recognises your presence, eyes flitting to your chest pressed between your arms as you lean over the bar before returning to your eyes.

“What can I get for you” he asks lowly and your head cocks at the accent. It’s kinda hot.

“Do you have gin and tonic?” you ask politely,

He braces the bar, the vein in his arm visible from this angle, “We do, but I think for a pretty woman like you I can make something better”

You raise an eyebrow, “like what?”

He twirls a glass of something behind his back, clearly showing off his bartending skills, “How about something with ouzo?”

You shrug with a smile, “Never tried it but sure”

As he mixes the drink, you peer over your shoulder at Baela and then to Aemond. He’s already watching you. It’s that look again. The one he’d given you last time in his home gym. The one where it feels like he’s looking right inside you, the darkened, determined look. You keep his gaze, thinking he will just look away like he had before. But he doesn’t.

A muscle in his jaw twitches with annoyance. Or perhaps not even annoyance. Something else.

Once you’ve polished off several cocktails, Aemond leaves with Aegon to go inside, presumably to change clothes, but not before giving you a look over his shoulder. Anyone else would have thought he was livid. To be honest, for a second you thought he very well could be. For what reason he had to be livid? You had no idea.

You spent the night slathered in mosquito repellent and sat outside with Baela, Rhaena and Cregan. You’d wanted to be comfortable so decided on a dress with spaghetti straps. It was a comfortably warm evening, with fire-lit torches illuminating the space around the villa. Rhaena had arrived back in the late afternoon, flushed in the face and hair tousled and you and both Baela had noted that Cregan’s shorts were untied. The sun was clearly getting to Rhaena. Her and Cregan was a fairly new thing and she’d been both shocked and giddy when he’d offered to be her plus one for the trip.

Sometime in the night, a figure that was clearly Aemond and another white haired girl walked towards their villa.

“Helaena!” Rhaena shouted over with a smile. Both figures stopped and your stomach fluttered with nervousness when Aemond’s eyes landed on you briefly. Then a slight pang of disappointment when he said goodbye to the woman next to him to slip inside the villa.

The ethereal looking woman comes over excitedly, sitting beside you, “Oh my gosh, when did you guys get here!”

“Cregan and I came yesterday” Rhaena smiles,

“Yeah but they were probably in bed all day sleeping, right Rhae?” Baela murmurs into her drink earning a smack from her sister.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Cregan” Helaena smiles politely before turning to you, “And you are?”

“I’m y/n, Helaena was it?” you ask, shaking her soft hand. She was really pretty, like a fairy just floating around. She had dangly earrings with ladybirds on them and was wearing a flowy cream dress.

“Oh so you’re y/n, I’ve heard so much about you!”

It catches you off guard slightly, but you nod and then turn to Baela furrowing your eyebrows confusedly. She’s heard so much about you? The hell does that mean?

The rest of the night is really pleasant and Helaena stays with you all chatting for the remainder of it. She’s really nice it turns out. It’s a wonder she’s even related to her brothers. She tells you all about the family drama, which piques your excitement and that her youngest brother Daeron, didn’t end up coming since he’s studying abroad, so she came instead. And you’re grateful she did, it’s nice to have other new female company.

In your shared bedroom, you and Baela chat well into the night, about a plethora of things. But one subject you refuse to broach is him. Nope. Can’t talk about him. He’s only a few metres away, if you let your mind wander too much it’ll all be over.

It’s a restless night’s sleep and your subconscious certainly doesn’t help. All your mind can allow you to remember is the way he touched you, how he had pressed against you, how his lips were slotting against yours almost desperately, his low moan.

The next morning, after having a continental breakfast, Baela puts on a long maxi dress.

“Everyone’s going to the city for a shop around, wanna come?” Baela meets your eyes in the mirror.

“Shopping? Nah, that’s fine I’ll just stay here, want to relax a little bit and get some more sun”

“You sure? Feel bad leaving you here on your own”

“Is everyone going with you?” you ask, pulling some shorts over your black bikini.

“Nearly, except for Dad and Rhaenyra. Sure you don’t mind?” she asks,

“Course not, have a good time”

Pulling a shawl over your shoulders you see Baela and everyone off before trudging down the cobbled path to the white, sandy beach, plopping yourself on the sand and opening a book you’d borrowed from the shelf near the bar. You let the sun beat down on your shoulders, the soft wind blowing through your hair and listening to the waves in the quiet hair while reading a book just seems so calming.

You’d already gotten quite a bit of sun yesterday and your legs had glazed with a sun-kissed colour, as well as your arms. So much so, the bikini had left a few lines where the straps were, if only very faintly. It was always easy for you to catch the sun. Pulling off your shorts, you lean back on your elbows to read some more and get some colour on your thighs.

Early afternoon came by quickly and before you knew it, you could feel the tingle of pinkness on your shoulders, where your bikini was tied at your neck.

Fuck.

You’d forgotten to put suncream there, Baela had been the one to reach the difficult spot yesterday.

Packing up your things, you carry your shorts and shawl in one hand and trudge back to the villa. It’s quiet, everyone must still be in the city. Your hair had somewhat curled up from the sea breeze so you ran your fingers through it once inside, snagging on some tangles.

Now, where was the aftersun. Baela had it…

“Not a fan of shopping?”

Your head swung around at the sudden, familiar voice. And there he was, looking annoyingly hot, leaning against the doorway to your villa, a toned arm supporting his weight. Again, he wasn’t wearing a shirt and his shorts hung on his hips, making your eyes dip to those lines that lead…

No.

He has a lazy smile on his face, happy to have got you flustered and allowing his eyes once again to look over you in just the black bikini once more.

“No, not really” is all you can muster, going back to looking for the aftersun with urgency. But really you didn’t want him to see the pink flush on your cheeks. Seeing him like this, no less being alone with him, especially looking as good as he does, was about to drive you to madness.

He hums and walks forward into the village, hands in his pockets, “Looking for something?”

“U-uh, just the aftersun” you struggle, clearing your throat and cursing yourself for the shake in your voice at being in his presence once again.

“Ah” he responds.

You gasp when one of his arms braces the counter in front of you and he bends down to the mini fridge, opening it to produce a bottle of said aftersun. You could feel his presence at your back, broad and warm, all encompassing. Swallowing thickly, you take a breath. It must be the smell of something on his skin that gives off a subtle scent, but whatever it is makes your stomach flutter and a warm bloom settles in your abdomen.

You go to reach for the bottle, but he pulls back, and you meet his gaze. His look is soft, but dark and steadfast.

“Where”

Jesus fucking christ. My heart is beating so fucking fast right now.

“Um…back of my neck” it comes out a whisper, and he doesn’t miss the way your breasts move in the bikini as you nervously breathe slightly heavier.

“Difficult to reach by yourself” he muses, his voice rumbling in his chest as he is standing right behind you. You bite your lip. Is this really fucking happening right now.

You shiver when his large hand moves your hair from your back to one side of your neck, the feeling of his fingers brushing against the skin there almost makes an involuntary sound come out your mouth. But you repress it, closing your eyes to grab hold of your reins.

One hand fiddles with the single knot of the tie at your neck, slowly, his breath steady. And he finds the one he needs and pulls slowly, unwinding the bow until the bikini top is loosened. Your hands move to hold the front of your bikini up to cover your breasts as the fabric falls. Your mind is at war with itself, stuck between thinking this is wrong and it should stop, and then the more dominant side thinks, he’s here, doing this, you might as well see where it goes.

Even though it was only one thin strap, when he sees your almost bare back right before him, you hear him exhale lowly and you only know because you feel his hot breath against it. He deposits some cold aftersun in his hand and slowly reaches out to the slightly pink skin of your nape, to spread it across. Your body prickles with anticipation at his touch, coupled with the chill of the liquid. Nobody says a thing as he massages it into your skin, not quite feathery but he applies pressure, making sure to roll his fingers into the muscles there, so that you really feel him.

He continues for a moment and then his other hand joins. You’re unsure if there is actually any aftersun left at this point and he is just finding an excuse to touch you, but you don’t stop him. Desire pools in your stomach as his hands drag south, down the expanse of your back, to the sides, nearly touching your own hands where they are covering your breasts. Your eyelashes flutter as you sigh at the feeling, his large palms working the moistened skin. It is this point your eyes open when you feel his very obvious erection, pressing firmly against your buttocks.

You feel his breath close to your nape, and it all seems to fall apart as he presses his lips there. Once, twice, three times…and then again as he drags his lips up your neck to behind your ear.

“It’s not fair…you getting to walk around like this…” he whispers next to your ear, his hands trace the contours of your breasts, “...every fucking guy ogling you…”

One of his hands smoothes down your side, resting at your hip, fiddling with the single knot of your bikini there.

“...wanting to fuck you…”

He just lets his hang rest there, neither touching you where you need him the most. Your blood is rushing around your body, humming with desire. Frustrated at not being allowed the pleasure it so desperately needs.

“...but you won’t let them, will you. You’ll just let them look, like the needy attention slut you are”

His words are unexpected but they have their effect, and you can practically feel your arousal at what he says. One of his hands sneaks beneath yours, to grab one of your breasts tightly, almost possessively, pinching the nipple between his dexterous fingers. It makes you breathe out a quiet moan, your body slowly giving in.

“Do you have any idea how much I wanted to fuck that stupid little attitude out of you?” he says, his breath hot on the shell of your ear.

He moulds your breast in his palm effortlessly, waiting for an answer.

But you moan louder in both surprise and arousal when he squeezes it harshly, “I asked you a question”

“Fuck-no, I didn’t…” you somehow manage, cracking your eyes open slightly. You see him only a little in your peripheral, expecting him to be smirking. But he’s not, he is dead serious. Which somehow serves to awaken your desire even more.

His other hand slips beneath the fabric of your bikini and he himself lets out a guttural moan feeling how turned on you already are, the pads of his fingers collect the wetness already there, moving up to circle your slit with your own slick. Your mouth falls open slightly, body trembling with anticipation. God why does it feel so good.

“I would have had you in every way imaginable…if you’d stayed…” he murmurs against you, speeding up the motions of his finger.

“Fuck…Aemond-please”

He spins you around quickly, the top of your bikini falling in a useless mess to the floor and he quite literally growls at the sight of your tits, as if he’d imagined what they might look like for a long time. His jaw tightens at the sight and he pushes the bottoms down to the floor, sinking to his knees almost instantly so he is staring hungrily at your cunt, wet and dripping for him.

His hands remain at your hips, his fingers bruising red marks into them.

“Please what”

Shit.

Your face flushes red at the sight of him so close to your intimate area, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t a little embarrassed, but his pupils are so dilated with pure lust, it almost makes you forget.

Your body jolts when he slaps your pussy hard, sending a jolt of pleasure through your clit and clawing up your spine, a desperate sound escapes you. He need not say anything else.

“Please, I need you” you whine pathetically and he huffs, as if annoyed, using his large hands to part your legs even further, the counter biting into your lower back.

“That’s what I fucking thought”

He dives into your pussy with his tongue, swirling the soft, wet muscle around your clit a few times deliciously before venturing down, fucking you with his tongue and lapping up your slick like a man starved. He grips your hips as if you might move away from him, keeping you right where he wants you and all the while your desperate whines and the lewd sound of his mouth are the only thing that fills the otherwise quiet villa.

You pray nobody returns, because what you’re doing right now deserves to be loud.

God, how long had it been since a man last treated you this way. Since a man had known what to do with you so confidently, to have you a moaning mewling mess.

It’s here when you look down, that you realise he’s fucking moaning while eating your pussy, almost sounding as if he’s enjoying this far more than you are. Enjoying your taste, your scent, everything. He briefly looks up at you, drinking in the indulgent look on your pinkened face, before delving deeper, his sharp nose rubbing against your clit with every move he makes with his tongue within you.

You nearly lose it entirely when he presses two fingers inside, immediately crooking them to rub against that delicious spongy spot that makes your mouth hang open.

“Ohfuck” you whimper as he doubles his efforts on your clit while pistoning his long, slender fingers within you. It feels like so much and your hand comes down to his wrist, feeling your climax curl in your gut and threatening to explode faster than ever. But he groans and uses his other hand to push it away, blissfully ignoring you and going faster in an effort to make you come apart around him.

“You gonna come on my fucking tongue” he growls into your pussy, his ministrations never stopping for a second and in fact his lips lock around your clit to suck. A desperate moan spills from your mouth, not even passing your brain.

“Yes, yes…” you pant, “Fuck-Aemond”

Your hands brace the counter as your climax is ripped from you by the force of his fingers and mouth. Pure, white hot pleasure wakes every nerve in your body, prickling up your back and into your limbs, making them go numb. You barely register the sound you even make as Aemond continues to fuck you with his fingers through it, lapping up every bit of your essence that comes out, moaning and chanting ‘good fucking girl’.

It genuinely takes you a moment to recover from it, your chest shining with sweat from the effort. But before you know which way is up, he rises, hands under your thighs to pull you up onto the counter, which is good since your legs were starting to give in from the force of your orgasm.

“Aem-”

His lips are on yours before you even have a chance to speak, allowing your legs to part so he might press flush against your weeping cunt. You feel his erection, hard and thick against you and it only makes you want it more. He takes you in with his lips as if it’s the air he breathes, a mess of lips, tongues and the taste of you, sweet like nectar.

“Fuck, want you so bad” he breathes between kisses, outright moaning when your fingers card into the hair at his nape and grip.

“Fuck me, I want to feel all of you”

His eyes peer open down at you, his chest heaving with desire.

“Please, don’t make me beg”

At this, he does smirk, pushing his shorts further down his hips and freeing his cock, “I’d like to see you beg, baby”

Christ.

He’s much bigger than you’ve had before, definitely bigger than your pathetic ex was anyway (not like it’s hard). You take him into your palm, hot, weighty and heavy and he tilts his head back at the feeling as you give his length a few languid strokes, although there really is no need since he’s been constantly hard the second he saw you come out the taxi the day before. The way his face contorts when you rub your thumb over his weeping tip makes you think he is painfully hard, aching for any kind of release.

God, if this is what he looks like now, you want to see his face when he is fucking you stupid.

You guide him to your waiting core, his head barely kissing your entrance.

“I’ve got an IUD, please-”

He doesn’t need to hear any more, his hands reach out to grip your waist, pulling you forward as he pushes, letting out a guttural moan as he sinks into you to the hilt. He moves your leg to hook around him, trying to get as close to you as possible.

“Fuck…” he moans with a shudder as his cock is squeezed by your tightness, “god you’re so fucking tight”

Everything about this has your blood on fire. His cock fills you so perfectly, his moans, his words, the way his hands are holding you apart for him to use you. One of his hands moves to your nape, grabbing the hair there in his grip tightly, and the tension against your hair makes you moan out as well.

But he doesn’t move.

“Aemond…”

“Beg for it” he orders, his stomach taut with the effort it takes to hold himself back. Frustrated and turned on beyond belief, you try and move your hips for friction. His hand flies from your hip to your jaw, fingers bruising into your cheeks, making you look directly at him and your eyes meet his, wide-eyed and heavily dilated, “Beg for it like the fucking slut I know you are”

Once again his words ignite that fire that creeps down your spine, and you feel every bit of him. Every vein on his cock, how it twitches within your heat and how it kisses your cervix with how big it is.

“Please fuck me, just move Aemond-please”

You don’t have the resolve to deny it now. You want it so bad, more than you’ve wanted anything ever.

He wets his lips, “That’s it” he coos.

He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back inside, watching the way your tits bounce when his hips snap against yours with need. He doesn't start gently, too pent up for that, nor does he build up to it. He fucks you on the counter like he’s not been able to get a moment’s rest from thinking about this for weeks. The hand in your hair tightens impossibly, holding you there while his cock drags against your walls, still sensitive from your previous climax.

Aemond watches his cock disappear over and over again into you, coated in your slick, revelling in the filthy sounds it makes when he slaps against you. And when he delivers a particularly hard thrust, brushing against that spot inside, your hand flies to your mouth to contain your moans, concerned that if anyone did come back, they’d be able to hear you.

“None of that” he growls, ripping your hand away from your mouth, his eyes glimmering with mischief, “I wanna hear how good I make you feel”

It’s impossible to hold back. He sees it all as a challenge now as he takes your hips with both hands, fucking you even faster if it were possible. He adjusts his hips and his stomach muscles, toned and hard ripple with the effort, his strong arms caging you completely in and he looks down at you as if he wants to see exactly the moment it happens.

You grip his forearm tightly, “Aemond-I’m-”

“Fuck I can feel you squeezing me…you gonna cum for me, hm? All over my cock” he breathes.

You nod desperately, “Yesyes…please…cum inside me-”

His brow arches smugly at this, a smirk etching on his features, “You want me to fill you up, huh”

“Gods - yes”

“Hm” he hums, allowing his large hand to encircle your throat, only barely squeezing, “gonna make you work for it”

It’s when he squeezes your neck that you shut your eyes, face contorted in pleasure and that coil inside snapping forcefully. You can practically feel the rhythm of your heartbeat through your clit as you let go completely, gripping onto him for dear life. You don’t know what he means by ‘work for it’ but you don’t really care right now. The pleasure comes in waves over your body and Aemond pistons in and out through it, a lazy smile on his face watching you as you orgasm.

You realise in all this that he’s not stopped. His hips continue to press into you faster and faster, now bullying the overly sensitive spots inside that have been decimated by your climax.

“Aemond?...” you manage with a breathy moan, quickly feeling overstimulated.

“Told you I’d make you work for it” he muses, moving his thumb to circle your clit.

You gasp out, back arching against him as he tries to work yet another orgasm out of you, “I-I can’t-”

“Give it to me” he orders, all while keeping that breakneck pace as he fucks you, sparking white-hot and borderline unbearable pleasure in two ways against your body. He leans forward to lick a fat stripe up the column of your neck all the way up to your ear and the change in position has his cock once again directly drag against that spot inside, one that makes your eyes shut, face contort and stars begin to appear behind them.

“Give it to me like the good girl you are” he whispers as he bites down on the skin of your neck, marking you for himself.

With a strangled cry, you give in, thighs trembling against his muscled sides and you feel another gush of arousal coat his cock by the loud sounds it's still making. He fucks you through this one, his strokes becoming sloppy, and you go limp in his arms feeling that he may also not last much longer.

“Good girl-fuck” he cums with a shattered moan after that, his head buried into your neck as you feel his hot spend paint your walls, giving a few desperate thrusts until his cock twitches from overstimulation, still seated within you. Still coming down from the two close orgasms he’d given you, you take a moment to come back to earth, eyes cracking open after a while.

Even with him still inside you, you can feel the combination of his spend and your own arousal leaking out of you, coating your thighs. He pulls his head tiredly from your neck to look at you. And he looks amazing, so blissed out, a bit pink in the face, but there’s a new softness there now where there wasn’t before.

“Gods, you’re so perfect…”

You kiss him desperately, not wanting this feeling to end as you both come down from your respective highs. And there’s a part inside of you that is self-conscious that perhaps all he wanted was sex, and that he doesn’t like you at all, so you savour this moment, concerned that after all this…there might be nothing.

“Go on a date with me…” he says suddenly and you look up at him. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks nervous, “please…”

Combined with the thoughts you were just having, his words are so overwhelming that for the time it takes you to think of an answer, you just laugh breathlessly, which makes him arch a confused brow.

“Date?” you ask, wondering if you’d heard correctly, “not to the gym I hope”

“No, not at the gym” he laughs, “I…I’d like to get to know you better” he confesses.

You huff a laugh, “You’re literally inside me right now”

He lets out his own laugh, and it’s nice to see him genuinely smile, “not like that”

His chest is still moving with his breathing, still slightly laboured, and your eyes glance over him for a moment, taking him all in. His hair has somewhat come free of his bun, so you tuck a strange behind his ear in a gesture that makes Aemond’s heart squeeze.

“I’d love to”

The smile on his face is unmistakable, and not a hint of smugness to it.

Once he’s pulled his softening cock from your core and you’ve both cleaned yourself up, it overcomes both of you that you can’t keep your hands off each other, can’t spend a moment without lips locked. Everyone’s definitely going to notice.

“I don’t want to hide it from anyone, if you don’t” you say in a whisper.

He squeezes your ass lovingly, giving it a playful swat, “I certainly don’t”

A few hours later, once the sun has started to hit the tops of all the buildings and the sky turns a hazy red with the sunset, you sit beside him, legs dipped in the pool and a shawl pulled around your shoulders from the slight chill. You let your head rest on his shoulder, utterly content as he kisses the crown of your head, in a shockingly loving gesture despite how he was railing you earlier. One strong arm wrapped around your waist.

“Fuck” you whisper.

“What” he asks amused.

“I owe Baela 5 gold dragons”

taglist (sorry if I missed anyone, I’m crap, bold means I couldn’t tag)

@jacevelaryonswife @lovelykhaleesiii@urmomsgirlfriend1@iiamthehybrid @namelesslosers @chainsawsangel @warmfieldofgrass @mynameisbaby9 @afro-hispwriter @tempo-rary-fix @toodlesxcuddles @definitelynotsatans @svtansdaddyx @tssf-imagines @darkenchantress @vrtualfairy @fan-goddess @skikikikiikhhjuuh @helaenaluvr @sarahkimtae @blackxisxmyxcolour @castellomargot @girlwith-thepearlearring @julczimozart @amazingdisneyfansblog @slutforaemond@thedamewithabook@Iiamthehybrid@sahvlren@Whoknows333@cosmoeticss

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didhewinkback · 9 days

Text

thirty, flirty and thriving

a something old blurb for the birthday boy. 2 and a half months late but who's counting

word count: essentially 3k, warnings: none

---

He can feel tears prick his eyes the second they all start in on the song. All of his favorite people in one place, just for him, gathered around the cake you’re holding up. Suppose he’s someone who cries at birthdays now.

He’s just…bloody overwhelmed. Perhaps it’s all the tequila flowing through his veins but it feels like more than that. Thinking about how you somehow managed to surprise him with all these people to celebrate his birthday, that his friends - some of whom he hasn’t spoken to in ages, ranging from the lads from school to the friends he made in LA when he was 22 - all made the trek to London to be with him tonight. How he’s often the youngest in his group of friends and how it feels like just yesterday that meant being 19 in a group of 30 year olds and now it's being 30 in a group of friends on the other side of 40.

He’s fucking thirty.

It should send him into a spiral about where the time has gone and how it went by so bloody quick but right now, he’s just grateful for where it’s landed him. Right here. Surrounded by his favorite people on the planet, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the woman he’s going to marry, his best friend in the entire world. Ten years ago, he was getting monstrously drunk at a club with Grimmy and their mates, feeling both on top of the world and more alone than ever in ways only an incredibly famous 20 year old can. But here and now, he feels settled. He feels good. Like he’s lived a thousand lifetimes but also like he’s just getting started.

“....happppy birthday to yOouUuUou” everyone sings, all eyes on him as they wait for him to blow out the candles. He places his palm to his chest, trying to lock eyes with as many people as humanly possible, trying to say thank you with a look, doesn’t want to do a speech, not now. He just loves these people, he loves this life, he loves his birthday and –

He feels an elbow in his side and looks over at you, your face aglow from the absurd amount of candles you’ve squeezed onto the cake - he’s 30, not 87, thanks - your eyebrows raised in expectation.

“Cake’s fucking heavy, mate” you say and he throws his head back in laughter, smacking a kiss to your head before looking back out at the party.

“Sorry - know the wax ‘s getting everywhere, but just wanted to say -” he says, taking a deep breath, vision blurring a bit. “‘M so lucky and feel so grateful to you all for being here. Thank you’s never going to be enough. But you’ve all made me into the man I am today ‘nd I wouldn’t be me without you. So thank you and I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And with that, he takes a deep breath, squeezing you close and making a wish, wishing for every birthday to feel just like this, for the ability to make everyone in this room feel like they’re making him feel now as he blows all the candles out in one swoop. The party erupts in cheers and whoops and he barely has time to press another kiss to your cheek before he’s pulled back into the fray, bombarded with an endless stream of hugs, kisses, people rubbing his head and pressing glasses of tequila into his hand. He just feels like he could burst, is the thing. A room full of people who know him and love him and don’t want or need anything from him, just want to celebrate him for who he is. They’ve turned the music back on and he sways his hips and stomps his feet as he knocks back another glass, letting the beats wash over him as he gets lost in the crowd of friends.

It’s later, he’s tucked in a booth with the lads as he takes in the room around him, though it’s spinning a bit more than it was before. Tom’s got his arm around him and is telling the 18th embarrassing anecdote of the night, trying in vain to bury the fact that just moments ago he got a bit teary when he spoke about the first time they met. And that’s when he sees you across the way, laughing about something with Johnny. His eyes trace the line of your neck as you tilt your head back, the curve of your jaw, and then, as if you can sense him, your eyes lock with his.

It never gets old, this. It feels like electric currents are buzzing through his system when you smile at him, that just for him smile, as he tilts his head towards the doors leading out back, once, twice, three times, topping it off with a dramatic roll of his neck until you’re smirking, already making your way up to stand. He taps Tom on the thigh before sliding out of the booth and making his way over to where you’re waiting by the doors, instantly wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as the two of you duck outside.

It’s cold, but the heaters and fire pits around the patio help and he wraps himself around your back, matching you step for step as you head over to the corner railings, away from any prying eyes. You lean against the railing, looking up at the night sky, what you can make of it from the city lights. He wraps his arms tighter around you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Y’ cold?” he asks and you’re shaking your head but he feels you shiver against him and that’s all the answer he needs, already pulling his suit jacket off despite your protests, and holding it out for you to put it on. “C’mon, ‘s my birthday wish.”

You shake your head and snort, sliding your arms into the jacket and turning around, wrapping your arms around his waist as you smile up at him. He shuffles you a bit closer to the heater, pressing a kiss to your cheek, brushing his knuckle along your jaw.

“Good birthday?” you ask softly and he’s already nodding, can’t believe you’re even asking.

“The best,” he says, “Can’t believe you did all this.”

“You really had no idea?”

“Surprised the shit out of me.” he says. “Y’ always get stressed when we’re running late for dinner so that’s the only reason I thought y’ were being jumpy.”

“Oiii–” you say, slapping him lightly as you laugh. “Not my fault you took ages to get ready. Man’s early for everything but the second you tell him what time to meet at a restaurant, he moves in bloody slo mo.”

“Heeey.” he whines, but there’s no heat behind it, pulling you closer and laughing when you do.

He can hear the party raging on from out here and he still just can’t wrap his mind around it. That he’s 30. That he’s gotten to live the life he has over the last ten years and he has all those people in there to thank. He’s bowled over, the love in that room radiating through his every pore. Not sure he ever knew he could be this loved.

He can feel your eyes on him and knows you’re letting him gather his thoughts, content to just stand there and patiently wait until he’s ready. Letting him do what he needs to do. Never pushing, or prying. Just knowing him. And loving him. And there’s just something about that, isn’t there?

“‘M just like…” he starts to say, stopping himself when he feels emotion clog his throat. “I cried 10 times already. Bloody Cal is here.”

“Easiest party planning of my life,” you say back softly, tightening your arms around him. “Everyone said yes immediately, they were so excited to celebrate you. Everyone in there really, really loves you.”

His breath gets caught in his throat at that, blinking back the tears that seem to permanently reside in his eyes tonight. He rests his hand along the side of your face, dragging his thumb along your jaw. Not sure what he did to get nights like this, to get you looking at him like that. He’s so, so lucky.

“I really, really love you.” you say softly and he just - he can’t explain the noise that escapes him as he crashes his lips against yours, tightening his grip on your jaw as he kisses you the way he’s been thinking about all night. You sigh against his lips as he pulls you impossibly closer to him, lips not daring to leave yours for a second, kissing you over and over again.

He could stand here forever, kissing you like this, but he has to breathe, eventually. He pulls back slowly, kissing along your jaw, cheek, temple before burying his head into your neck. You slide your arms up his back, hugging him around the neck and pulling him close, your hand coming up to rest at the nape of his neck, scratching at the short hairs there. You just stand there for a minute, wrapped up in each other and this may just be his favorite part of the night. There’s something about knowing he’ll always have this. Your arms to fall into. And that’s the greatest birthday present a lad could ask for.

“Thank you so much for all this,” he mumbles into your ear. “Best birthday ever. Proper birthday.”

His heart skips a beat when he hears your delighted laugh, pulling back to get a glimpse of your face, the way your eyes are glowing as they stare back at him.

“I can’t believe you remember that.” you say with a laugh. “You were pissed and burning your mouth on a cheese toastie almost a decade ago when you said that.”

“Mmm, a cheese toastie,” he says, giggling at your eye roll. “Course I remember it. Think it every year. ‘S not a proper birthday unless you’re there. I love you so, so much.”

“Thanks for being born,” you say softly, leaning into his touch. “Greatest thing to ever happen to me. You.”

“Baby - ” he breathes out, but can feel emotion clogging his throat again, trying in vain to blink away the tears your words made spring to his eyes. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hand shaking not just from the cold. A lifetime of knowing you and you still make him weak at the knees.

“Y’ make every day feel like my birthday, y’ know that?” he says softly, feeling like he’s found the right words for the first time tonight. “This party ‘nd this night is incredible. But nothing - nothing - compares to getting to go home with you every night. Greatest gift I ever got.”

He can see the words hit you, the deep breath you take as your eyes rake over his features, smile twitching at your lips as you look at him with such love in your eyes he feels his heart skip a beat. You’re looking at him like you always look at him, really, really seeing him with nothing but utter love in your eyes. God. There aren’t words for that, are there?

You pull him in, kissing him hard, like you’re trying to pour every ounce of love from your mouth to his and he’s more than happy to drink it up. Drink you up. Drink you in. His favorite taste, his favorite mouth, his favorite person on his favorite day.

His hands squeeze you tighter, living for the way you lean into his touch as it rakes down your back, settling on your bum. He could lose himself in this, in you. But you both seem to become aware of your environment at the same time, deep kisses slowing into gentle pecks before you drag your lips up his jaw, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you pull him close, hugging him tightly. His arms wrap around your waist as he sinks into your hold. He nuzzles his head into your neck, breathing you in, as he slowly sways the two of you, the party mere background noise to the sounds of your steady breathing, the feel of your hands carding through his short hair.

It’s a while before he moves, slowly, begrudgingly, pressing a kiss to your neck and tightening his arms around you before mumbling, “I’ve got a crazy idea,” into your skin.

He lifts his head to look at your face, can see your eyes twinkling, already bracing yourself for what he’s about to say, already in on the joke. It’s a bit he’s been doing every few weeks at this point, ever since you set the date.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” you ask, unable to stop the smile growing on your face as you slide your arms down his shoulders, resting your hands on his biceps.

“Was thinking - since y’ did such a good job planning this party… what do y’ say we throw another one? Like, end of June maybe? Right after your birthday?” he says, pretending to actually mull over those dates, trying to remain deadly serious while your lips twitch into a smile.

“Hmm. I think I could be down for that.”

“Yeah? Same guest list, bit more of your friends. Some family maybe. Could do it in Italy, near the house.” he says, trying to keep up the bit but the reality of what he’s saying is catching up to him, the familiar tears making an appearance again as he chokes out his next words. “Y’ could wear white.”

“And you could wear a suit.” you say softly, eyes never wavering from his. “Maybe get a new ring.”

“Yeah. You’d like that?” he asks, bringing his hand up to your face when you nod. “You wanna marry me, baby?”

“I really, really do.” you say, the look in your eyes making his heart beat out of his chest.

“Four months,” he says quietly, almost in disbelief of his luck, his life. “You’re gonna be my wife in four months.”

He can’t tell who moves in first after that, both of you clutching on for dear life as you just about snog the living daylights out of each other. He’s never wanted to ditch a party more in his life. Just wants you, your bedroom, and several hours to even begin to express all he’s feeling right now, all he wants. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you.

You softly moan into his mouth and he just about loses his mind, thinking about he’ll have a lifetime of getting that sound out of you, just for him. He pulls you impossibly closer as he drags his tongue over yours, keeping your jaw in a tight grip. He could die here, actually. He’d die a happy man, being slowly taken apart by your mouth.

“Oiii!!!” Johnny’s voice through the open door has the two of you springing apart in shock, though he doesn’t let you get far, burying his head in your neck as he moves his hand off your jaw to flip Johnny off.

“If you’re both done rubbing against each other out here –”

“Oh grow up, Johnny!” you shout at the same time Harry lets out a “You wish!” that has you smacking him against the head as he laughs.

“The Holmes Chapel lot did promise Hometown Hero over there a birthday shot.” he slurs and Harry begrudgingly pulls away from you to twist towards the doors, pulling your back into his chest as you both face Johnny, his hands resting on your shoulders. “And we’ve been waiting bloody ages –”

“So bloody dramatic,” you huff and Harry laughs, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

“We’ll be right in,” he says watching as Johnny rolls his eyes, holding up a hand to indicate “you’ve got one minute”, as he turns back inside and closes the door behind him.

“Suppose we better go in,” you say, turning to look at him over your shoulder and he all but swells with pride at the look of you, the swollen lips and slightly messy hair. He tilts your chin a bit more towards him and kisses you once more, squeezing your shoulder before taking a step back. You shrug out of his jacket despite his groan, handing it back to him as you bring your hands up to attempt to smooth down your hair.

“Let’s go, old man.” you say and he squawks, sliding the jacket back on before giving you a cheeky smack on your bum, which you try in vain to dodge before reaching for his hand, interlacing your fingers and heading back into the fray.

The night spirals from there in the best possible way and while he may not remember every conversation he had, every song he danced to, every shot he took, he’ll always remember the way that room made him feel, the love radiating towards him, overwhelming him, inspiring him, fortifying him. He’ll always remember the feeling of your hand in his, the way your body felt against his own, and later, the taste of you on his tongue. Feeling like he could do anything with you by his side, your love making him feel like the greatest version of himself. Like the best is still yet to come, if that's even possible.

Proper birthday.

---

a/n: the way i literally had 3/4 of this written on february 1st and then could not get myself to finish it. but here we areeeee baby. hope people are still interested. i really like it and couldnt let it go. let me know what u think love u mean it

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

#something old #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles birthday #friends to lovers #hbd 2.5 months late i guess #sorry to all the angels in my inbox who requested a lot of other things and definitely not this #ur girl couldnt give this one up #lmk what you think plssss oh pls

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thegreatirene · 3 months

Text

My Best Friends Brother(Carl Gallagher x Latina!reader)

Rated: Mature(language and implied sex)

Summary: after leaving the south side you come back to visit your best friend’s lip and Ian. A lot of things changed around the Gallagher household especially the people living in it.

I watched some clips on tiktok of Carl and forgot how cute he looked in his policeman outfit. So this takes place in like the last season so Fiona is gone but she’s mentioned in it. The read is Latina cuz I am and I want more Latina reader fics out there.

“How long has it been since you left?”

“Shit, like eight? Yea I think it’s eight cause we were still in high school when my family moved.”

You inhaled on the watermelon flavored vape you had as you walked next to lip. You found him walking with a stroller. Surprised the hell out of you when you learned he had a kid and was married as well. You were happy for him and continued your walk with him on his way back to the Gallagher house. He told you about the things you’ve missed. Fiona being the biggest one. You didn’t think she would actually leave everyone behind without a word but you were really happy for her. You didn’t say it, cause you didn’t want to hurt lip’s feelings but she deserved to get out of here.

“No way Mickey and Ian are together! Would have thought they would have fucked a couple times and moved on” you laughed as you handed your vape to lip.

“We thought the same thing. Ian kind of thought that too but they’ve been strong throughout their relationship.”

“That’s cool and them other ones? Debbie and Franny still good?”

“Yea Deb’s had some shit going on with her but she’s fine now. Liam is our smart guy. Little man getting straight A’s”

“I’m not surprised. You and Ian were pretty good in school. I guess it skips a generation” you laugh as lip handed your vape back.

“Yea Carl’s a cop believe it or not”

“No fucking way?!?! Carl, Carl? The little boy who beat and tortured people just for the fun of it? The one we all thought was gonna be on the most wanted??? That Carl?” Lip nodded his head as the both of you stopped in front of the gate that was in front of the Gallagher’s house.

“I swear it,” lip held his hand up, “he should be dropping by soon if you want to see him?” You laughed as you said yes and went into the house with him.

—

“Man it still looks the same” you took your jacket off as you hung it on one of the empty hooks by the door. Walking further in you could hear voices in the kitchen and made your way in. Lip put his son in the playpen and walked towards the kitchen. Standing at the counter with his back to the doorway was Ian. Mickey looked around him and nodded towards you.

“Holy shit, here I thought you got deported” Mickey said as he took a sip of his coffee. Ian turned to see who he was talking to and broke out into a smile.

“And I don’t know how many times I have to tell your racist ass that I was born here-“ Ian grabbed you into a hug in the middle of your rant to Mickey.

“It’s so good to see you y/n” he kissed the top of your head as you squeezed him to you. You pulled back from the hug but still in his arms as you got a good look at his face.

“Still the pretty red head” you patted his cheek as you hugged him again. The both of you laughed as you felt Ian being pulled back a bit.

“Ok enough of that” Mickey said as he pushed Ian back from the shoulder and looked at you.

“Don’t get jealous Mickey. Ian is all yours he doesn’t like pussy remember?” You laughed as he mocked the laugh and pulled you into a hug. He patted your back a couple of times and then pushed you off of him and walked back to his seat.

“So it’s just you two here?”

“Yea Liam is at one of his friend’s house and Deb’s at the park with Franny.” You nodded your head.

“Lip said Carl’s a cop?”

“Yea he’s changed a lot” Ian offered you a cup but you declined it. Lip made a ‘I told you so’ face as he walked in front of you to get his own cup.

“He grew into that big ass head of his?” You questioned as you laughed at the memory of the little boy.

“Who has a big head?” Came Carl’s voice as he stood next to you. You looked up at him, “holy shit, y/n?” Carl looked you over. You got a good look at him. He’s a couple inches taller than you and definitely grew up. Carl is handsome and you definitely weren’t prepared for that. You blinked a couple of times and smiled at him.

“Hey bid head. It’s good to see you” he rolled his eyes and pulled you into a hug. You placed your face next to his. He smelled nice and god could you feel how strong his body felt under his clothes. You pulled back from the hug or at least tried but Carl was holding on to you. You could feel Carl’s hand rub your back and start to move a little lower.

“Ok that’s enough” lip said as he went and broke the two of you apart. You turned away from Carl to calm yourself while Lip smirked at his little brother and patted his shoulder. Ian held up his left arm for you to walk into him. He held you by the shoulder as lip and Carl whispered to each other.

“Man, you Gallagher’s really don’t be lacking in the looks department, huh?” You said to Ian and he looked down at you as you eyed Carl. His younger brother doing the same from over Lip’s shoulder. You huffed a breath through your nose and turned to look at Mickey and Ian.

“What?”

“Nothing just-“

“Watching you be a prev for his brother.” Mickey finished. You scoffed at his remark and folded your arms over your chest.

“Fuck you, I’m just saying that the family has good genes. Where did I say that Carl is hot?” You whispered yelled at Mickey as you got close to him.

“You didn’t have to say anything. We can see you eye fucking him” Mickey whispered back as he laughed at you. Ian pulled you back as you were about to say something but stopped it.

“Stop it”

“Ian he started it”

“And I’m stopping it” you sucked your teeth and settled back into his side. Lip and Carl finished their conversation with lip patting his back with a big smile and walked over to the three of you.

“You staying the night, y/n?” Lip asked as he went to sit at the table with his cup.

“I could, I’m on vacation so I don’t have any where to be. If you guys don’t mind me being here”

“Mick and me don’t live here so you can take the room we slept.”

“Is it clean?”

“It’s clean don’t worry” Ian laughed as he rubbed your arm and let you go. He walked over to the table with lip and sat down.

“Sleepover at the Gallagher’s. Brings back memories the only difference is I don’t have to awkwardly pretend I don’t hear Ian jerking off in his bed.” You and Mickey laughed as the both of you looked at Ian.

Carl came up to your side a little closer than you thought he would. You turned to look at him and smiled.

“You gonna be sleeping with me tonight, Carl?” You said to him as you leaned on the counter with your head on your hand.

“I can think of some other things we can do besides sleep” he said as he looked at you with darkened eyes. You looked at his blue eyes and then to his full lips. You wetted your bottom lip and looked back his eyes and smiled.

“I’m gonna go make a phone call. If I’m gonna be sleeping here I need some of my things” you said as you broke your eye contact with him and talked to the other three people in the room. You smiled at them as you took your phone out and started to make your phone call.

Carl watched you walk out of the room and then out the house as he bit his lip and stood there for a minute. Mickey raised his brows at the younger man and then looked at the other two brothers. Lip shook his head as he got up and walked into the living room to be with his son.

“Carl the more you look the harder it is to make your eyes go back into your head.” Ian said as he got up from the table and put his mug in the sink. Carl rolled his eyes as he looked at the front door one more time before he began to talk.

“Y/n is…” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he went back to look at the front again. Ian shook his head as he walked into the living room. Mickey looked at Carl and finally had enough.

“Listen if you’re trying to fuck y/n make your move tonight. Me and your brother are gonna be out for a couple hours at like 8 and lip said he has to go back to his house to finish doing whatever” Mickey finished his coffee and got up. He stood in front of Carl and leaned back to look into the living room.

“Debbie isn’t gonna say anything cause she don’t care and Liam is having his own sleepover. So y/n is gonna be in that room by herself. Make your move” he said as he put his mug in the sink.

“Thanks Mickey” Carl said as he looked at the older man with a look of admiration. Mickey patted his shoulder and walked into the living room.

—

True to what Mickey said, him and Ian left the house at 8. Lip stuck around for another hour to finish catching up with you and left when he saw you get sleepy. Debbie hadn’t shown up yet but he wasn’t worried about that at the moment.

Right now he was debating if he should do it while you were in the shower or wait until you got dressed in the room. He chose the latter and waited at the top of the steps. Once he heard the water turn off and the door open he stood up. He watched as you walked to the room at the end.

The door was left a cracked as he quickly tiptoed to the room. He listened to see if you were gonna do anything but the door swung open and you grabbed him but the front of his shirt. Closing the door with a bang and locking it, you looked at him from the door. Your towel still wrapped around your body as you looked at him with sultry eyes.

Carl gulped as he stumbled back and fell on the bed. You walked towards him in a predatory manner. Your head held high and shoulders back as you swayed your hips. You stood right in front of him and slowly unwrapped the towel. You pushed him back until he was on his forearms and settled yourself on his lap. Still holding the towel loosely to you.

“Fuck” he breathlessly said as he watched your hand drop the towel. It landed on your spread legs and he followed it. His eyes slowly followed the curves of your torso. They landed on your breast and he reached out a hand to touch them. He rubbed his thumb over your right nipple. You moaned as you bit your lip.

“You’re so beautiful y/n” he groaned as he leaned forward and sucked your left nipple into his mouth.

“Fuck Carl” you moaned as you grabbed a fist of hair and pulled him away from you. He licked his lips and looked up at you. You leaned down and captured his lips with yours. The both of you moaned into the kiss as you grind down on the growing hard on in his shorts.

“I need you papi” you moaned as he bit your neck and flipped you on to your back on the bed. Carl looked down at you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He pulled over the undershirt and threw it behind him. He breathed hard as he watched your breast move with the breath you took. His eyes met yours again and went back for another round of kisses from you.

—

The next morning Debbie was making breakfast for her and Franny. Lip walked into the house with Freddie in his stroller. He announced himself to his sister as he placed his son in the playpen and walked into the kitchen.

“Hey Deb’s y/n still asleep?” He asked as he walked towards the bathroom but first gave Franny a kiss on the head. Debbie made a face as she looked at lip.

“Y/n? I haven’t seen her since you guys were in school. Is she back?” She placed a plate of pancakes in front of Franny as she went to make coffee.

“Yea, I bumped into her on my walk with Freddie and we offered her to sleepover. She should be sleeping in our old room.” He said as he finished washing his hands.

“Oh then I’ll wait until she comes down. It’s been a while since she’s been here” Debbie said as she had a happy look on her face. The two continued their conversation until they heard a scream from upstairs. Lip looked to Debbie and then to the staircase.

Lip was the first one to get out of his chair as he ran up the stairs. He was intercepted by Ian who was the first one at the door. Pulling it open they both rushed in.

In the middle of the room was frank on his back on the floor with Carl on top of him holding him down. You were on the bed with the covers held to your chest as you watched Carl.

“What the hell happened?” Lip shouted as he pulled carl off of frank. Carl stood back up in just his boxers as he looked at frank and began to tell his brothers and now, Debbie and Mickey, what happened.

“Y/n woke up and frank was standing over her, watching her!” He said as he went back to get frank but lip held him back.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s not my fault this Latin beauty is in my bed naked! Who can resist when someone like that is there! By the way son got yourself a good one” frank winked at Carl but Carl wasn’t appreciative of the compliment. Frank held his hands up as he got up from the floor and dusted himself off. Carl made his way to the bed and wrapped more of the blankets around you.

“Holy shit y/n and Carl fucked!?!?” Debbie said as she made her way into the room and looked at the two of you on the bed. You huffed and rubbed your face as you looked at all of them.

“It’s too early for this.”

#carl gallagher x reader #Carl Gallagher x Latina!reader #shameless #shameless imagine

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