#even if it may seems that I complain I love all of my thirsty anons

[itseivwhore]

Ma'am you get the thirstiest anons cuz you the thirsiest bitch we ever seen

I...

Now: should I be offended, because you literally called me "the thirstiest bitch we ever seen" ? The answer is no,at all. And you know why? Because first of all, it's 100% true, so I take it as a compliment.

And at least but not last, because you addressed me as "ma'am" so I was like:

#ma'am #i got the best followers #u u #HAAAHAHAHAHAAHH #no for real though #bonus point to you because you called me #oh 😳 #and calling me like that it's the way towards my heart #heart eyes motherfucker #I don't know why but I just like it very much it's so nice even if said jokingly #anywaY SOOO #you got me there #even if it may seems that I complain I love all of my thirsty anons #<333 #I wouldn't be where I am now and I wouldn't be the supreme eivwhore if it wouldn't be for them thirsty anons #thirsty anons #kind of really flattered that anons choose me to confess their sins #HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH #it isn't much but it's a honest work #like yes you see? #THEY CHOSS *ME* #conflicted emotions #answers

[landothemuppet]

Far Longer Than Forever (p.p)

Word count: 4737

Pairing : peter parker

Request: YES! ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. The Swan Princess is one of my childhood movie and this was so fun to write. I can’t stop listenning the soundtrack now ! I’m so sorry for the time i took to write this, i had so much work to do with school. But it’s over now and i hope you will like this ! 

N/A:  First, gif not mine but i don’t know who i’m gonna credit on this, i have no clue...This is my first Peter Parker x reader and i hope you all will like it! As always, I remind you that English is not my native language. Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Like, reblogs to support. You can Love you all! xx

Taglist: @angeliquekalampoka @harryhollandsgirlfriend @cedricdiggorysimpp​ - if you want to be notified of all my future writings you can add yourself in my taglist : here

______

As far as you can remember, you've always hated summer. Well, it was partly a lie. You loved the sweltering heat of Queens, the cherry popsicles from Delmar's, not having to worry about what time you had to get up. You liked it but hated the idea of ​​the last two weeks of August.

 This year was no exception. You looked at your half-finished suitcase, a grimace on your face. August still meant the same thing, the same routine: having to spend the last three weeks of his vacation with Peter Parker.

summer 2009

Peter Parker had lost his parents very early on, two years ago. He had lived since then with his aunt May and his uncle Ben. It was your mother's idea to introduce you to each other. Aunt May and your mom were friends from college and luckily, they lived in the same neighborhood. Your first meeting with the one who, many years later, would become Spider-Man, took place on his eighth birthday. You were invited to the party when you weren't even at the same school. Aunt May had simply shared his fears about Peter's difficulty making friends after the trauma he had experienced. Your mother, as the perfect friend that she was, had suggested that Peter and you spend time together.

 There were 3 kids in total at that birthday party, you, Peter - obviously - and a boy from his school whose mother had forced him to be there, too. It was a fact; you were the only girl and you didn't know Peter at all. Your mother walked up to you, got up to your eye level and whispered

 "Can you be nice? May told me she invited Peter's whole class and only this boy came"

 You wanted to please your mother so you nodded before approaching the two boys. Peter and his friend were in the corner of the room, their backs turned to the adults. When you tapping the young boy on the shoulder to make you notice by him, he turned to you with a guilty expression. He had buttercream all over the corner of his mouth and he was holding a cupcake in his hand that looked delicious.

 “My Aunt May tried to bake a cake, but Uncle Ben bought some cupcakes in anticipation. Do you want one?” Peter asked you in a friendly voice

“Why? Is May's cake not good?

“Uncle Ben says that she is not very good at cooking.”

 You let out a little laugh and nodded your head before grabbing the cupcake with a smile. You thanked him and began to taste the little pastry with envy. It was so good! The buttercream was lemony, the cupcake was slightly lemony too but there was a taste you couldn't recognize. You were almost sure you had tasted it before, but you couldn't tell what it was. Peter and the other boy suggested that you go to Peter's room. He wanted to show you the LEGO set his uncle Ben had given him ahead of time and you followed them even though you weren't more excited about the idea.

 And you were right. For several minutes, you were pushed aside while the two young boys spoke spiritedly. You complained several times that you wanted to do something else but Peter didn't seem to listen to you, too excited to finally be able to chat with someone who appreciated Star Wars as much as he did.

 So you were annoyed and slightly angry with Peter but what broke the camel's back is that you started to not feel so good. Your throat was itching and you felt like your tongue was taking up a lot more space in your mouth, getting drier. Peter gave you a distracted look before his eyes widened. He let go of everything he had in his hands before running to his aunt.

 "Aunt May, Aunt May! Y/N's tongue looks like a big, desiccated steak!"

"Peter, don't be rude!" she exclaimed, shocked by her nephew’s words

"No, no come see, she has a huge tongue! I think something is wrong"

 Meanwhile, you ran into the bathroom at Peter's reaction. You weren't sure why he had looked at you like that, but you felt that a few things were wrong. In addition, you were more and more thirsty, your eyes also hurt. And that's when you saw your reflection. You were puffy, your tongue had tripled in size, hence this feeling of dryness and discomfort. It was the same with your throat. You started to cry and when May called you through the bathroom door, you fervently opened it.

 May and your mother's expression of horror was instantaneous and your mother knew exactly what was causing your condition.

 "What did she eat?"

"Nothing..." he tried to escape from being grounded

"Peter, this is very important. What did you eat?"

"We just ate the cupcakes Uncle Ben brought back"

 Ben looked at May with guilty eyes. May had put so much effort into Peter's birthday cake and she felt hurt that they had bought some pastries in anticipation. Your mother was impatiently stamping her foot. It was important to know exactly what you had eaten and above all, you shouldn't waste any more time. Peter felt completely helpless. He had only given a cupcake to his guest, that’s all. What was wrong with giving someone a cupcake?

 "What were those cupcakes flavor?" your mother said impatiently ...

"With lemon and almonds." he said in a very small voice.

 You were panicked. And the eight-year-old that you were was not coping well with stress. Plus, your feeling of being sidelined by Peter and his friend made you feel even worse. So you frowned. You couldn't see a thing but you could feel the torrent of tears escaping your cheeks. You pointed at Peter with rage

 "You tried to kill me !!!" you said somehow with your tongue as big as a little tangerine.

"It's not true!"

"Yes! You are a murderer"

 And you cried even more before your mother takes you to the emergency room as quickly as possible, apologizing for the scene.

 The week later, May forced Peter to apologize for giving you a cupcake, while justifying that he didn't know about your allergy. Your mother forced you to apologize for insulting Peter "a murderer" and accept his apologies.

 But you spent the rest of the vacation arguing with the little guy. After all, you didn't want to be friends with a murderer.

 Summer 2013

Aunt May and your mom didn't let go, however, and every summer you spent three damn weeks with Peter. The summer of your twelve years, you did not thus escape this eternal masquerade but this year, the tide had turned in your favor.

 From the start, you never liked Star Wars. It really wasn't your world. You had always preferred Harry Potter and although Peter had read the books and enjoyed them - which he would never admit to you as that would amount to listing the commonalities you had - he was much more invested in the galactic universe. But on that day, Peter had particularly bothered you. He had first replaced the sugar in your hot chocolate with salt. He kept chanting silly nursery rhymes about you and the downstairs neighbor, insinuating that you were in love: which was not the case. Yes, Peter had been extremely annoying. This time Peter was getting on your nerds by bouncing a small ball against the ceiling as you tried to read your book. Uncle Ben was in the living room watching the sport - you weren't sure exactly which one since it didn't matter to you - so you couldn't go anywhere else to be quiet.

 "Peter, stop it."

"Stop what?" he asked by bouncing the ball once more off his ceiling. You could even make out the smirk on his lips.

"That. Stop it! I can't read."

"This is nothing new."

 You threw him the first thing you found on his desk, c.e, a banana, which he easily dodged. You groaned in frustration. May and your mother didn't understand when you talked about Peter's attitude towards you. He was a calm child, far too shy at school and interested in everything, especially science. He was looking forward to entering Midletown High School in two years. You hated that nerd side about him. Secretly, you were a little jealous of him for being the smartest in the room.

 “I'm gonna hit you so hard you won't know your name anymore”

“ try me, dumbass.”

  A few minutes later, he had finally stopped throwing that damn ball, but obviously Peter's boredom was driving him to find everything the most boring thing than the previous one to drive you crazy. This time, he had simply taken his favorite lightsaber - because he had several - and he was poking your shoulder to get your attention.

 "Parker, stop!"

"Don't you want to drop this book and watch a movie?"

"What do you want to watch? Star Wars? No thanks ..."

"Oh come on, Y / N! I'm sure you'll like it!"

 He patted you on the shoulder once more with his lightsaber.

 "Do you want to play this, Parker?" you said before grabbing one of his other lightsabers

"What are you going to do? I'm sure you don't know how to fight with" he mocked.

 You have lit the glowing plastic stick and you are placed in the guard position.

 "Do you want to bet, knothead?"

 He smiled at you and attacked you first. Strangely, this is what most resembled a moment of bond between Peter and you and deep down, you appreciate it. But you also appreciate that possibility of kicking his ass after he's been so irritating. You responded to his lightsaber attacks with ease and joy. It was playful, childish, but it was one of the few times you had fun with Peter. And you really appreciate it. Your two laughs mingled, echoing in the room.

 But suddenly, as you were trying to dodge an attack from the brunet, your elbow made contact with his face. Peter's muffled cry of pain echoed and you froze. He was holding his nose with a grimace and when he took his hand away you both noticed in horror that he was bleeding.

 "Fuck…"

"Pete..." you started talking

"You blew my nose!" Peter shouted

"I did not do it on purpose!" you defended yourself.

"Of course, you do! You fucking blew my nose!"

"Peter, I swear ..."

 But Peter interrupted you by rushing out of his bedroom looking for his aunt who was in the office as she tried to file the important papers, that Ben and her had received this week. You were livid. First, because you didn't mean to hurt Peter on purpose. Second, you couldn't stand the sight of blood and it was literally everywhere. Peter was leaving trails of droplets on the floor of the apartment.

 "Aunt May?!? Y/N blew my nose! Damn, I'm bleeding!"

 After a brief stint in the ER, the rest of the stay was peaceful as you and Peter avoided each other until the end of the summer.

 Summer 2017

Peter was not the Peter you had always known.

 Since the death of his uncle Ben, the young man had closed in on himself and was even further away. Always so intelligent and discreet but much more distant. He had stopped teasing you or doing things that got on your nerves. He was minding his own business. And even though you had tried to be there for him, not denying him any of the offers he made to you during your stay ... you found him really ... overwhelmed. Which was still understandable.

 But this year was worse than the last. May told your mother that last year Peter got an internship at Stark Industry and attended a seminar in Germany but came back with a black eye. He had been acting most weirdly ever more since then. And you could have witnessed it. In the afternoon, when you were busy, and when it was too hot, when you tried to rest, Peter would disappear for hours. When you caught him sneaking back several times, he made you promise not to tell Aunt May.

 And you were starting to have theories about his nighttime getaways. After all, you were 16 and you too had started dating a few boys. But it never really worked. who knows why?! And when you wondered if Peter had a girlfriend, and who she was - he had to have one in view of all his sneaking out - your stomach twisted in a strange feeling. You didn't understand why the thought of Peter having a girlfriend bothered you so much. Over time, you had learned to be friends. It still happened sometimes that you quarreled but the events of the life made you grow up. Your parents had divorced, Peter had lost his uncle. You could tell yourself that you both had grown.

 And it was one night when Peter was sneaking back in again that you discovered two secrets.

 The first one: He was Spider-Man.

 It was around midnight when you heard the sound of the window opening. Since your childhood and this Machiavellian plan of your mother and Aunt May, you had always slept in Peter's room during holiday and more recently in his bed. The noise alerted you and you got up in a sitting position. But the only thing you saw was a foot, placed on this said window, closing it gently. How the hell was that possible?

 You were ready to scream but your gut told you to look up at the ceiling. A figure hung on it and you were paralyzed. Were you having one of those weird experiences called sleep paralysis? Delicately, silently, you grabbed the first blunt object within reach. A chemistry book that Peter seemed particularly fond of. The figure stepped on the ceiling as you were paralyzed. The form turned to land on the ground and then stood up, still with its back to you. You got up gently from Peter's bed and walked over. The man in the suit whose color you couldn't see took off his mask and you hit the air in an attempt to shoot him down. Peter turned around so quickly and blocked your gesture easily, like a reflex.

 "What the ..."

"Bloody hell".

 You both said at the same time. Your big surprised eyes mirrored Peter's. The curly man let go of your hand with an apologetic expression as you walked away from your friend. You turned on the bedside lamp before you discovered his blue and red costume. A very recognizable costume since it was that of Spider-Man. You winced, a look of judgment and incomprehension on your face. Not bothering to look at his face covered with bruises and traces of blood.

 "What the ... are you sneaking out to go to a costume party?"

"What?! No…No Y/N I’m…”

“Spider-Man? Great costume by the way” you joked.

 For a moment, you completely forgot that you just saw your friend glued upside down to the ceiling. Peter looked at you a little jaded, by the tone of your voice your guess was far from a sincere question but more of a mockery. And right now, the young man needed to be honest with you. He needed you.

 "But, I am."

"Yeah that's it. And I slept with the Winter Soldier. You can't imagine what he can do with his metal arm."

 Peter cut you off by pulling a web with his web shooter, tying your hands. The feel of the canvas was unpleasant, sticky but above all resistant. You let out a little cry of surprise, not powerful enough to pass the walls of Peter's room. Your eyes looked like two big golf balls, realizing that your friend was telling the truth.

 "Omg, You're Spider-Man" you almost spoke too loud.

"Yes and don't make me web your mouth. May doesn't have to know"

"damn, peter. What happened to your face!"

“yeah about that…I need you Y/N, please…”

  And without warning, Peter squeezed the spider in the middle of his costume, at chest level. He winced at the action revealing his bruised chest. He staggered a bit from the action, unsure of his legs and the pain in his sides fierce. You might see several bruises and cuts on your friend's body. You were having difficulty swallowing before you told him you were going to the bathroom to get what you needed. Before leaving the room, he made you promise to be discreet and not tell May anything if she ran into you. When you walk back into Peter's room, he's sitting half-lying on his bed, grimacing. You sit next to him, your heart pounding. You never noticed that he was so built. After all, as a superhero, he had to keep fit. But you couldn't deny that it intimidated you. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment and a desire you never knew before. He had his eyes closed, as if trying to make the pain go away. And there, looking at him, you found him pretty. he was so cute that you couldn't help but run your hand through his curls to signal your presence and soothe him a bit. But Peter already knew you were there. He had heard your footsteps, he had smelled your scent, a sweet scent he had grown used to in his later years. He sighed softly, more relaxed. You started to clean the few shallow wounds.

 "Does it hurt?" you asked quietly

"Mhmm no, not really."

"Did you win?"

"Ouch..No. Not tonight."

"Sorry." you said more for your gesture rather than the fact that he didn't win the fight against the bad guys.

"No, it's perfect ... it's just a little sensitive"

 You smiled but something was wrong. A feeling you've never felt before. You've finished cleaning up Peter's wounds, but your gaze has darkened. As you were about to get up, the brunette gently grabbed your wrist to hold you back. He could hear your calm breathing and yet your heart was racing. He could feel the heat on your cheeks. He too felt that the tension was at its height. Your mind was muddled, he didn't know why, he wasn't a telepath, but he could see it, feel it. Your body betrayed your mind.

 "Y/N, what is it?"

"I..I don't know." you lied.

"You can tell me everything."

"I ... Well…Seeing you like this ... makes me ... makes me realize that I ... I'm afraid of losing you."

"You won't lose me ... I promise"

 You are ashamed of your vulnerable state. How did you go from hating this boy to having an overwhelming fear of losing him? You looked at those chocolate eyes in confusion and distress. You were now fully aware that the little neighborhood spider was none other than your childhood friend. The one you once loved to hate, tease, fight with over trivia. He was also on the youtube videos, who stopped cars with his bare hands.

 “Y/N… you won’t lose me, I promise.”

 Peter dared to walk slowly towards you and in a surge of courage, one of his hands circled your burning cheek, his lips rested on yours. The brunette had always had a crush on you without actually admitting it. After all, you had known each other since you were children but... your relationship had been rather confrontational. But for two years now, everything had changed for him. He appreciated more and more your little arguments, your teasing. His thoughts would sometimes turn darker when you lick your lips or when your fingers scratched that point behind your ear, when you were a little stressed.

 Your lips moved between them in a harmonious dance and you were now clinging desperately to Peter's slightly sweaty brown curls. Your heart was pounding at a speed close to the point of no return, reluctant to stop suddenly in the face of this overstimulation. But all good things came to an end and you slowly walked away. You bit your lip to get the taste of Peter's back. Your mind wandered, lost in the haze of rushing feelings.

 "You..you should rest ..."

 You ended up pulling away, swallowing hard. That night you didn't sleep. You have studied every facial feature of Peter, thinking of every event since your friendship. The next day, you fooled that nothing had happened. Too scared of what that kiss meant to you.

 Summer 2025

It all happened so quickly. After that summer, the summer of your kiss, you promised yourself that you understood your feelings towards Peter. You weren't going to the same high school and even though you were both on social media, you never dared to contact him. You needed time.

 But you haven't had this time. Peter became full-time Spider-Man and then the aliens came to earth, again. The threat of Thanos hovered and within moments, days, hours ... you were gone under his snap.

 When you returned to your childhood apartment, you were alone. Well, alone in front of the family who lived in this place now. The man in his forties simply believed you were a drug-hunting teenager squatter. Five damn years had passed. 5 years where your mother had a new life when you had been eclipsed. You were distraught, alone and it was by happy coincidence that you found May at the F.E.A.S.T project. It was a relief for you to find a familiar face again. She had suggested that you come and live in her new temporary apartment, allowing you to finish high school without having to move to the other end of the United States, with your mother. You declined your offer. You wanted to fend for yourself. And surprisingly, you did pretty well.

 To be exact, Mr. Delmar was looking for a student to work in his store and was kind enough to greet you in the bedroom of one of his daughters who had gone to college. By the greatest of luck, you've never seen Peter. Or rather, you managed to avoid it for an entire year. You had caught a glimpse of him one day, trying to speak Italian to get a travel adapter and a dual headphone adapter. Did you feel foolish thinking that after so long - could we consider those 5 years to be 5 concrete years? - would it still focus on the kiss you shared? After all, you got away from him after that. And then, everything went in a state of madness.

 Every time you turned on the television, you learned that elemental monsters had attacked a different country. They had first started with Mexico and then moved to Europe. Italy, Prague and then London. A certain Mysterio seemed to be taking care of this matter, but you couldn't help but think of Peter. May told you he was supposed to go to Italy. In fact, every time she went to Delmar's for a sandwich, she gave you an update on her nephew's trip. But it wasn't the craziest.

 Upon his return ... Spider-man's identity was revealed. You had watched in horror the video of Mysterio, which appeared on the Daily Buggle newspaper, accusing Peter of wanting to be the new Iron-Man. You were listening to J. Jonah Jameson falsely accusing Peter of being a murderer. You knew Peter, and there was no way he had done such an act. The video was bogus, you were sure. When you tried to reconnect that summer, you noticed Peter's girlfriend. Michelle Jones and ... and that's what kept you from approaching him. He was already supported. He had his best friend, Ned. His girlfriend, MJ. And he had May. It was enough, wasn't it?

  It was the following year, after a new incredible adventure that you met again.

You worked at the store in the evening. Mr Delmar had asked you to help him out urgently because his youngest daughter had a health problem. You accepted with pleasure. You had offered to babysit his daughter but the loving father he was wanted to be with her. And it was precisely this evening that a thug decided to steal the fund from you.

 You were at gunpoint with your hands up in the air when you saw a red and black mass fall behind the thug.

 "Hey buddy, I think the bank is across the street"

 Spider-Man tapped the thief on the shoulder and dodged a punch.

 "But I think I'll arrest you anyway if you went to the bank. You don't seem like a nice guy." Peter joked.

 You were paralyzed as your friend, your best friend if you were honest, chained or avoided them with agility. You swallowed hard, unable to move or run away. A gunshot rang out and you smelled a scared little vintage. Peter squeezed the barrel of the gun in his hand, deviating from his course. It made sense now to say that he had simply defended himself against the assault. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Peter stared the offender against a fridge door, immobilizing him. He then turned to you, oblivious to your identity at the time.

 "Are you okay there?"

"Peter!"

 You didn't give him the chance to realize and you rushed into his arms, hugging him so tight to feel the comfort of his body against yours.

 "Uh, yeah, you're welcome. Cuddles are nice but ..."

 He paused for a moment and his automated eyes widened. He knew his perfume. The flowery, sweet scents that he had missed so much. Is this possible?

 "Y/N?"

 You let go of him and immediately put his mask back on. Adrenaline was controlling your actions and god damn it, you needed that touch. You kissed him, bluntly. Your lips crushed against his in impatience, in ardor, but too bad. You needed to feel it against you, to regain the feeling that you had felt, years ago. After a few seconds, you felt Peter's hands encircle your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your heart was exploding, the ardor was present in your kiss. You were even frustrated that you couldn't grab her brown curls with full hands, settling for only the base of her hair. You let out a moan before pulling away abruptly. He had a girlfriend.

 "I… I'm sorry. I… Sorry, I didn't mean… MJ… and… please don't blame me."

 Peter silenced you with another kiss, shorter this time but so good.

 “There is no MJ .... Just you and me ... Far Longer Than Forever”

 You looked at him hopefully and then burst out laughing after his words.

 "I didn't know you were so romantic, Parker"

"Shut your mouth."

"Make me"

"You are impossible."

"But obviously, you like"

 He was going to say something to nag you, he was looking for it but you caught him off guard, placing your lips on his again. You could feel his smile in the kiss and you couldn't help but do the same. Anyone living in the neighborhood present in the street would have a view of Spider-Man kissing the student cashier from Delmar. But you couldn't care less. You had waited too long and the joy you were feeling now was so intense, you didn't want to stop feeling this. It is reluctantly that Peter moved away from you apologizing for the fact that he had to go on patrol again.

 "Go save the Spider-Man neighborhood"

"Only if you promise me you'll be there when I get back."

"I was thinking of going to say goodnight to May instead ... But if you want, I have a sleeping bag in the storeroom."

"You are incorrigible .... See you later ..."

"See you later."

 You smiled, in a misty state of bliss as Peter disappeared from view. This time, you weren't planning to escape, you wanted to fall into the webs of Peter Parker. You closed the store after the police visit and headed to May's flat. It was late but with her kindness she welcomed you with open arms.

 This summer ... was the best in years but the others to come were going to be even more wonderful.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #tom holland #tom holland fic

[evakuality]

23. “Do you really need all that candy?” + 24. “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.” (Davenzi)

Anon, I’m super sorry that this has taken so long!  I saved this one til last because I loved it so much but then other stuff got in the way.  I hope you like this little snippet even if it didn’t quite turn out as I had intended!

“It’s six o’clock in the morning”

It’s six o’clock in the morning and David feels like shit.  There’s a sort of foggy haze hanging over him as he lies on top of the bed.  The room is slowly spinning and he’s feeling slightly queasy as he stares up at the ceiling, trying to focus on one specific point.  He’s not sure if that queasiness is the result of the beer and weed he’s been indulging in all night, or if it’s because his body is not used to still being awake at these sorts of hours.

Either way, he wants it to stop.  Matteo is lying beside him, groaning out his own displeasure.  David glances sideways, wincing as his head spikes with pain.  Probably the beer and weed then, he thinks irrelevantly.  Matteo looks a little pale, paler than usual, and David reaches out one hand to rest against his cheek.

It feels cool to the touch, slightly clammy, and David’s pretty sure that’s not a good sign.  But he doesn’t have the energy to roll over and take a proper look.  Instead, his eyes move back so he’s lying staring at the ceiling again waiting for the room to still.  It takes forever.

“I’m so thirsty,” Matteo mumbles beside him.  “Can you get me a drink?  I think there’s some vodka left from the party.”

David chuckles, but instantly regrets it when pain slices through his head again.  “It’s six o’clock in the morning,” he says carefully, trying not to disturb his head because every time he does it sends waves of sickness to his stomach.   “You’re not having vodka.”

The noise Matteo makes then is something close to a whine, but doesn’t quite get there because he, too, is probably too listless to make the effort to complain properly.  “Haven’t you heard of ‘hair of the dog’?”

“It’s a lie, Matteo.  It only makes it worse in the long run.”

Matteo chuckles, and when David turns to look at him this time, his cheeks have more colour in them and he looks minisculely more energised.  “Not if I keep doing it.”

Rolling his eyes was a mistake, David realises as he does it.  Somehow, Matteo seems better off than he does and that’s not fair.  He feels like doing some whining of his own, but with superhuman effort (or, really, because he just doesn’t have the energy to actually carry through) David stops himself.  

“It’s six o’clock in the morning,” David says again.  He manages to turn so he can look at Matteo.  “I should be asleep, but my head hurts.”

Okay, so maybe he’s doing a tiny bit of whining.  That’s allowed.  Because his head really fucking hurts and he’s not used to it and Matteo is actually sitting up now.  Which is just blatantly unfair.  Asshole even had more than david and he’s coping better?  Discrimination!

“You could have some vodka,” Matteo suggests smugly.  “That’d stop your head from hurting.”

He slides off the bed in a slow, careful way that suggests he is still feeling some after effects, but yet he’s actually capable of moving and being actually moderately functional.  David wonders how he does it.  

Matteo is scrabbling around in one of his drawers, and finally pulls something out with a loud crowing, “yesssss.”  

David thinks, for a moment, that he’s got hold of more weed and he’s close to groaning over it but then he sees the brightly coloured wrapper and hears the soft crackle of the plastic.  He grins.

“Do you really need all that candy?” he asks, pushing himself up onto his elbow.  His stomach gives a lurch but everything stays where it’s supposed to, which David counts as a win.  

“Yes,” Matteo says, waving it at him.   “Since you won’t let me have any vodka, I need something else to make me feel better.”

He rips into the package, scattering small pieces everywhere and making David laugh.    He knows Matteo is at least partly doing this to distract David from his head, and he’s grateful for it.  

“I can think of better ways to make you feel better,” he says, lying down again and holding out his arms invitingly.

Matteo crawls back onto the bed and flops down next to him, still with far too much energy in David’s opinion.  It jiggles him, and the delicate agreement he has with his stomach is severely threatened by the jolting movements.  When David opens his mouth to complain, Matteo drops one of the pieces of candy into it, making him snap it shut in surprise.

“Ass,” he manages, when he’s chewed and swallowed.  “I could have choked on that!”

Matteo curls up into a ball in the space David has created with his arms and hums contentedly.  “I’d save you,” he says quietly.  

The tone has shifted, just like that.  David always marvels at the way Matteo can do that, move from playful and silly to soft and warm and loving in the blink of an eye.  It always calms him too.  He sighs, his head still pounding, but feeling better just from having Matteo close by like this.  His stomach has settled a little.  He doesn’t want to admit that maybe the small burst of sweetness helped with that, so he just presses a kiss to Matteo’s forehead and watches as his eyes slip closed and his breathing evens out.

It also fascinates David how Matteo can do that, too.  How he can drop into sleep almost instantly.  Of course, the fact that it’s six o’clock in the fucking morning may have something to do with that.  The candy packet slips out of his loosened grasp and the candy starts to spill again.  David knows he should care, knows they’re going to have a huge mess to sort out when they wake again, but right now he can’t bring himself to care.  

It’s six o’clock in the morning.  His head hurts and his stomach is still roiling if he moves in the wrong way.  It’s six o’clock in the morning and when they wake, there’s definitely going to be some reckoning to do what with spilled candy and heaving stomachs and likely a destroyed apartment. It’s six o’clock in the morning and he should feel like shit.  

But because Matteo is here, curled up into him, it’s six o’clock in the morning, and David feels happy.

#druck #davenzi #my fic stuff #my prompt stuff #Anonymous #some non-graphic mentions of alcohol-related illness

[infinitum-imaginaerum]

Joshua | S. 15 “Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop.” | Thirsty Peach Anon 

Words | 4,770

Warnings | Virgin!Joshua, UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONS, ya virgin lover ain’t gonna do this for you I promise, ya not virgin lover probably don’t even do this. 

Notes | My dear thirsty peach anon requested an inexperienced relationship so I just went ahead and made Joshua a virgin; I also changed the prompt a tiny bit but uhhhh. It’s fine right. YOOO LOOK AT THOSE EYES!!!!! (If y’all don’t follow my personal blog... well I am deep in it for Joshua and his gorgeous eyes okay). 

Send me a bias, a section, and a number and I’ll write you a thing!

It was another late night home for Joshua, the third time this week. Sleep filled his eyes as he pushed his way through the front door to the apartment with a heavy sigh. You could hear him from the bedroom; the door was cracked knowing that his entrance would wake you from your light sleep. The kitchen light flickered on followed by rustling in the cabinets and the spigot of the fridge filled a glass of water.  

Then, the fridge opened, and you knew there was something in there that he was going for. With that in mind, you shuffled around in the sheets a bit more—he was going to be a while before making it to bed. When you finally rolled out of bed, and the cool air pulled goosebumps to the surface of your skin on your bare legs, your nightgown fluttered back down to its rightful spot as you trekked across the carpeted bedroom to silently slip out of the door.

He sat in his usual spot at the dining room table with his back facing the bedroom, making it easy for you to sneak up behind him. Silently your feet shuffled across the carpet and onto the tiled section where he was seated; the floor was colder than the air of the apartment.  

You admired his honey brown hair, the way it still laid perfectly cascading down the back of his head and tickled the neck of his collared dusty rose button up. His shoulders shifted as he sat and ate his treat—a slice of the peach tart you’d made that reminded him of home in the states—until your hands were soothingly rubbing those shoulders as you leaned over to place a chaste kiss against his jaw.

He gasped, surprised by you before relaxing into your touch and your subsequent kisses.

“You scared me,” he purred, eyes fluttering closed, “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“I always wake when you come home,” you reminded him, threading your hands through his hair to pull it away from his forehead. He slouched back into the backrest, letting you guide his head against your torso.  “May I sit with you?”

“I would never deny your company,” he replied as your caress disappeared from his hair and you slipped into the chair beside him.

He picked at his tart, almost more infatuated with you than he was the dessert he sought out. Small bite after small bite had you touching against his leg with your foot, caressing his calf as you sat next to him. He swallowed hard now and again, eyes darting over to you to make you fall in love all over again.

Joshua’s gaze had to be the eighth wonder of the world. Those eyes did things to you that you couldn’t explain, but you swore every time you looked him deep into those unending galaxies that you fell deeper in love with him. He had to have known it, too, because you got a little lost, often ignored the things he said but you couldn’t ignore the purr that was rumbling in his throat as your foot continued against his leg.

“You know, it’s bad to have sugar right before bed. They say it causes a lot of weird dreams,” you mentioned, resting your elbow against the table and your chin in your hand as you continued to admire him.

His eyes shifted to you in a way that had your skin crawling as he took another bite of his tart. “I guess you’ll just have to keep me awake for a little longer while it wears off, then,” he teased with a wink. One look into those gorgeous eyes had you wrapped around his finger, so when he leaned over to collect your mouth in a tender kiss there was no arguing the matter. The peach syrup on his lips was a delightful treat in addition to his soft lips finally against yours in over twelve hours which didn’t seem like a lot to other couples but you were in a very affectionate relationship in which everything warranted a kiss.

Despite the affection, Joshua wanted to take things slow with you. He was a virgin, and blessed that you were so understanding; the pace of the bases was entirely at his whim. But a few weeks prior, he had mentioned something in passing about maybe being ready which you completely didn’t hear and when you asked him to repeat himself, he flat you refused to tell you.

At any rate, Joshua had been getting a little more suggestive with you, at least vocally and often moved your innocent touch to slightly more intimate places against his body. A good example of that was when you touched his shoulder, he’d drag it down the front of his chest; or if you touched his knee, he’d pull it a little further up his leg. It wasn’t as though neither of you had touched each other intimately before, but it always took you by surprise the more aggressive he got.

“Are you being suggestive with me, Joshua Hong?” you asked when his lips finally departed from yours. He gave you a sweet grin then bit at his bottom lip.

“Maybe I am,” he replied playfully and pushed a hand under the table to your bare thigh, feeling the goosebumps that peppered it. You shifted a bit, shocked but not uncomfortable. “Especially when you come out here like this, all satin and low cut,” he teased some more, that hand leaving your leg to touch against the lacey cut of your night-dress and spaghetti style straps that held it on your body.  

He never blushed when he got in his moods. He was confident and smooth, perhaps building up to the home run. But you blushed—you blushed like mad when he talked to you that way.

“Joshua!” you quietly called with a nervous laugh.

Another devilish grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he turned his attention back to his tart which was just about finished.  

“You just look so good in these; it’s hard not to admire,” he replied, fingers back on your leg to tease the hem of the beige satin gown you were wearing.

“Are you feeling some type of way tonight? What’s gotten into you? Usually you just want to come home and go to sleep,” you replied with a laugh, “not that I’m complaining! It’s just unusual.”

“Well… I’ve been thinking,” he started which piqued your interest. Your foot stopped caressing his leg as you waited for the words following as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I could eat you up,” he uttered and swooped in for another kiss, this one a little more aggressive than the last as his mouth slanted over yours. His tart was mostly gone, which was good because it was basically forgotten as he shifted out of his chair to deepen the kiss. His gentle hand cupped your jaw to tilt your head for him and pretty soon his velvet tongue was dancing with yours.  The chair you were seated in squeaked against the tile as you pushed yourself out of it. Joshua’s hands clutched at your hips before wrapping around the small of your back.  

“Is my baby a little needy tonight?” you uttered against his mouth, toying with the hair on the back of his neck as you finally broke the kiss enough to breathe. His hot breath against your face tickled you some type of way as he sharply exhaled with a small grin.

“Maybe a little bit,” he replied with a shy laugh as he turned to walk you backwards back towards the bedroom. His arms were stuck around you like glue, even as you attempted a couple of times to tug at the top buttons of his shirt, hushing you with passionate lip-locks until your bum hit the mattress to break the kiss entirely.  

His breathing was already a little ragged, matching yours as you looked up at him. The top few buttons of his shirt managed to be popped open before he dumped you on the bed and he looked down at those buttons before looking back to you. His nimble fingers worked the rest of the buttons to let that dusty rose shirt hang open draped over his gorgeous skin.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Joshua shirtless—in fact you saw him that way every night but it was different in a situation like this where you were clearly not getting ready for bed. Half of you expected him to continue the same path he always did with some easy touching and some soft grinding with innocent kissing, so you were a bit taken aback when he put his hands on either side of you and dove into the curve of your jaw with a tender nip. Your breath hitched, fingers tentatively weaving into his hair as he kissed fervently at the curve of your jaw. He’d kissed your neck before, but it lacked the hunger this advance carried.

His hands smoothed across the top of the messy comforter, pushing you onto your back with his body as he slid over you, hot mouth still aggressive against your neck and lower.

“Joshua,” you breathed; voice barely audible as he nestled between your parted legs—a move already leaps and bounds advanced to the normal path. With fingers spread, your hands shifted against his bare skin as he curled over you, kissing every inch of skin he could reach.

“I never thought I’d love the way you sigh my name like I do,” he replied against your skin. “I thought that was just something superfluous that dudes said to hype the game, but it is what they all say.”

You would have replied if his mouth wasn’t occupying yours a moment later. His hands slipped to your hips from the comforter, one of them daring to trail the joint of your hip and across your leg that your gown had slipped away from. The noise he made against your mouth when he hooked your leg over his hip was nothing less than sinful as he rolled the ridged of his jean-clad crotch deep between your legs.  Though there were a few layers of fabric between you, the sheer friction from the zipper of his pants against your practically tissue-paper thin underwear had you feeding him a noise that gave his hips a stutter.

There was something hanging off the tip of your tongue, somewhere in your blurry mind that you wanted to voice and so turned your head to the side, but Joshua’s warm mouth occupying every inch of skin against your neck had you quickly forgetting whatever it was you were going to say. Instead, your right arm wrapped around his shoulder, clawing at his skin through his button up while your legs clenched against his hips.

His hum into your neck was a sweet reverberation as he curled over you, digging further between your legs to get some good friction for himself. Nimble fingers peeled at the cut of your nightgown, pulling it down just enough that he could latch onto a sensitive patch of skin and elicit a quiet hiss from you as you attempted to peer at him. Featherlike touch against your legs had you shivering in his grasp before he was tugging at the back of your knees, feverishly attempting to delve as deep as he could while still being separated by three layers of clothing until he decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

Leaving a dark purple mark behind on your once immaculate skin, he tugged away from you entirely so that his eager fingers could pick at the closures of his pants. The clink of his belt against the floor finally opened your eyes. You gazed at him, watching his quick fingers pull the brass button open, quickly followed by the zipper and you couldn’t deny your salivation as you watched him push his jeans off his hips.

He cooed your name, bringing your trance-like gaze up to his smiling face, a smile so soft it betrayed the current situation and drew his bottom lip between his teeth. The air seemed colder without him hunched over you but you continued to patiently lay there in anticipation. Slowly, he leaned down to capture you lips, coaxing your arms around his neck so he could lift you and trade places. After settling your knees on either side of his hips, he broke the kiss to look up at you with that pleading gaze, asking you to move.

Chastely you kissed his lips and rolled your hips forward to rub up on him. The hard ridge contained by only his cotton underwear felt unexplainable better shed of denim and therefore drew another pleasured noise from his sweet lips against your own.

“Shua…” you uttered against his lips, clutching at his shoulders while you desperately tried not to throw your head back. He was impossibly firm between your legs, sure that it was almost painful at this point.

“I’m ready for you,” he uttered back. It resulted in you drawing away from him, breaking the kiss entirely to search his eyes to make sure he was telling you the truth. Your hands cupped his warm cheeks as you looked at him, stroking them with your thumbs. This was perhaps the biggest step of yours and his relationship thus far.

“Baby,” you cooed with the tilt of your head, basically questioning if he was absolutely one hundred percent positive he was ready to take the plunge, especially considering the things you had hit so far were child’s play by comparison.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Don’t think that this is just a spontaneous decision. I want to lose it, I want to give myself to you,” he explained. His nervous hands clutched your hips, tugging you further onto his lap which was next to impossible anyway as he looked up at you.

“Joshua, are you sure?” you asked just to be extra confident.

“Once we start, I might not be able to stop,” he replied with a laugh and a soft grin. “It feels so good dry; I can only imagine how you’re going to blow my mind.”

It was a compliment to the highest degree, honestly, but that didn’t stop the blush that burned against your cheeks. A gentle chuckle escaped your lips as he smiled back and pulled at your hips in attempts to encourage you. So, you started with his shirt, pushing that dusty rose button up off his shoulders to pool against the comforter of your bed. Next, you helped him with your nightgown. He bunched it at the hem in his hands and with the guidance of yours, tugged it over your head and dropped it to the side to let it flutter to the floor.

You knew he’d marvel; it was the most nude he’d ever seen you before. Honestly, you assumed it was going to be awkward, that he was going to stare a little too long and make you self-conscious, but he didn’t. He kept close tabs on how long he was looking, and made sure to look at your face most of the time, albeit his hands traveled the newly exposed skin everywhere. His fingers were cold against your warm skin, pulling goosebumps to the surface and under his touch.

“Warm me up,” you begged, but laughed just the same as you wrapped your arms around his neck to put your warm front against his. The skin on skin was indescribable. It lit a fire in your stomach that was different from the one kindling in your core. He chuckled against the crook of your neck, able to feel his smile against your skin as he turned you back over and laid you into the cool comforter pinned underneath him.

Affection almost masked the lust in his eyes. They were definitely battling for the most prominent position but you couldn’t blame the hormones swirling through his body, touching every bone, falling through every vein.

“May I?” he asked you, fingers curling into the band of your satin underwear.

All you could accomplish was nodding with a shaky exhale as your eyes rolled closed, fingers knotting in the comforter underneath you as the elastic tugged down your hips. You lifted at his request, enabling him to slide them all the way off. Your eyes remained closed, able to feel his gaze all over your skin now and as long as you weren’t watching him, you were less likely to get embarrassed. His soft touch against your abdomen jolted you a bit, but the way he tenderly brushed his fingers across your skin after that soothed you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, replacing his fingers with his supple lips, kissing against your middle and lower, over your hips and legs, back up your torso to your neck and lips while his hands coaxed your legs apart. Your breath hitched when his fingers touched against the outside of your womanhood.  You grabbed his wrist, more to steady yourself rather than him. He met eyes with you, never once breaking gaze as his fingers pushed against your folds, touching your most intimate pieces for the first time. His brow quirked, jaw slacking a bit until he harshly exhaled.

Your quiet sigh only encouraged him as he figured your workings, noting every little noise, every twitch of your brow and movement of your mouth in correlation with where he touched. Joshua wasn’t sex-stupid, jut new. He wanted you mapped for the future, easy to navigate to know all of your buttons, when and how to push them to get you crazy.

“I want to touch you, too,” you pleaded and attempted to sit up when he pulled his hand away. He worked his underwear off his hips and down his legs and looked down between your bodies with you when you kneeled in front of him. Tentatively, you leaned down and in, and collected his lips the moment your hand wrapped around him. He groaned into your mouth the way you knew he would, a sweet treat swallowed as your thumb worked against his tip for just a moment, sliding his natural lubricant down the shaft to have him almost jerking in your grasp.

“Being touched is so different than touching yourself,” he breathed against your lips.

“Does it feel good?” you asked him.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyes falling closed as his head lolled back to place a hand on your wrist. “Heavenly,” he replied, letting you continue for a bit longer before he stopped you and leaned over to your ear. “Let me save some appetite for the main course.”

You got a little carried away, absolutely loving the way he reacted to you, the way his hips shifted into your fist, his hand not entertaining your wrist cupped your jaw and occasionally weaved his long fingers into your hair. He brushed his lips against yours in a chaste kiss and coaxed you back down onto your back underneath him.  The look in his eyes had you shivering, the way they were half-lidded, hazy, but looked at you with so much admiration and love. He kissed against your cheek before reaching into the drawer of the nightstand, finding your stash to retrieve a rubber.

The purr in your throat elicited a dark chuckle from him and he leaned down to nip at your jaw before leaning back. You watched the way he delicately opened the packaging, knowing exactly what to do as if he was the experienced one, not the other way around. You both watched as he unrolled it over his strained manhood, desperate for something, anything really after being pent up and then abandoned so many times over. That sinful tongue of his flicked across the back of his teeth before gracing his perfect lips. He swallowed hard, but not nervously, just eagerly.

“Joshu-ahhhh,” you whined, throwing your head back into the pillow as your mouth fell agape when he slid the tip of his erection along the length of your core. You clutched his forearm, the one with the hand deep in the mattress to your right as he leaned over you. Joshua was biting his lower lip, keeping the pleasure mostly contained despite the fact that the way you called for him had him pulsing even worse.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby,” you reassured him, opening your eyes to peer at him. He hulled one of your legs up over his hip and poised at your entrance. “Take it slow,” you reminded him, responded to with a nod. He pushed his hips forward, burying the tip into your heat with a groan.

“Oh… Oh fuck,” he cursed quietly and dropped his head, hoping you didn’t hear him.

“Yeah? Feel good?” you breathed as a whisper.

“Yeah, baby,” he replied, inching his way in. “So warm and tight, so tight. God, it feels incredible.” His hand previously planted into the mattress grabbed your hip, trying to ground himself as he pushed in to the hilt and stopped for a moment.

A moan, hardly muffled by the way you pinned your bottom lip between your teeth, fell into Joshua’s ears. Your leg hooked over his hip continued around his leg to pull him in, despite being entirely against your take-it-slow policy. He leaned down, almost unable to take it to collect your lips in a heated kiss, sighing into it before he nuzzled into your neck.

You expected him to be stationary for a while as he got used to the new feeling, but he surprised you when he tugged out about half way and pushed back in. A choppy exhale fell from his lips and into the crook of your neck. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, cradling his head into the crook of your and played with his hair, whispering into his ear.

“Joshua, baby, you feel so good,” you whispered and arched into his body to give him a little encouragement. He hissed, then wet his lips with his tongue and pulled back just enough to kiss you again, this time going for a full stroke—his eyes fell closed and he pulled back.

“I want to just give it to you!” he growled, grabbing both of your hips before a low chuckle escaped.

“Give me what you can handle, love,” you told him, reaching out to run a hand down his chest as you looked at him affectionately. He nodded, a fire in his eyes stoking, determined to not be a typical one or two minute virgin.

He started slow with small thrusts at first, taking breaks as necessary. Every few thrusts, he reminded you of how good he felt, how good you felt around him, how his head was spinning and how badly he wanted to come unraveled. Even still, he did his best. Eventually, he worked his way up to full thrusts at a slow pace but was style a rhythm and honestly, if he could keep it up, that was satisfactory enough for you. A number of thrusts, he’d angled on you just right to rub your sensitive top wall, bringing the nails out into his soft flesh, vocalizing just how good he was getting you, huffy pants in his ear. A couple more curses sprinkled in what few words he did say, mostly just concentration.

“I want to make you come,” he uttered and leaned down for your lips.

“It’s okay if you can’t, yet. We’ll work up to it,” you reminded him.  It didn’t seem to be satisfactory enough for him. He had an idea of what he was supposed to do, but needed your help. He leaned off you a bit and flittered a hand down your abdomen. Your eyes widened a bit, anticipating his next move as he examined your face, looking for the go ahead or if he wasn’t even in the correct ballpark.

You cupped your hand over his, leading it down. He nodded, continuing to the best of his ability before you finally spoke again. “It’s going to get really tight, honey, so if you don’t make it—”

He didn’t even give you enough time to finish your sentence before you’d interrupted yourself with a hiss and a tapering sigh as his thumb rounded your sensitive nub. His jaw almost came unhinged at how much tighter it got, but he wasn’t going to give up. He watched you gnaw at your lip, quiet mewls and whines here and there as he looked you over with hazy eyes. Nodding, and swiping his tongue behind his teeth, he continued both ministrations, finding it more difficult to move in and out of you by the moment, but persevered.

Your inhales were getting rickety, which he took as a good sign, especially when you clasped a hand against his shoulder and met eyes with him. Your jaw clenched, almost panting as you were at the edge of your high, so close to tipping over.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned you, almost disappointed.

“Give it to me, love,” you told him, cutting him lose. His thumb stayed steady against your nerves as his thrusts picked up to bring him to his high and, surprisingly enough, you were chasing right behind him. The guttural groans he gave you as he tipped over his edge made you blush, becoming even more flushed than you already were. Rickety full thrusts rode out his high as both hands reached to grab your hips. Your eyes were already rolling back in your head, body arched as high off the bed as he could even fathom as you lingered on your cloud nine. He slowed with some hums, his vice-like grip loosening until he was spent. Both of you, covered in a light sheen of sweat, were panting messes as you looked at each other. You reached up to push his honey-brown locks away from his eyes, eliciting a delicate smile even if he couldn’t keep his eyes open as he slipped out of you with the quiver of your legs. His hands smoothed against your thighs around his hips, caressing your skin as your hand slipped down to cup his cheek.

Lazily, he turned his head to kiss against your palm, still doing his best to massage blood back into your legs before they slipped away from his hip.

“How do you feel?” you asked him.

He nodded which turned into a headshake as he grinned and then laughed, unable to even form a coherent sentence before settling on, “Good… real good.”

You chuckled at him, watching the way he fumbled with the condom for a moment before disposing of it and cleaned himself off and slouched right into your naked body, cradled between your legs, and squished his face square against your chest. It definitely wasn’t the first time he lay with you this way, but it was the first time both of you were completely naked. Regardless, you chuckled and carded through his hair, pulling it away from his face, away from his temple and combed it back. His head rose and fell with your breathing, still trying to regulate it as you fluttered back down to earth.

“I wouldn’t have been able to stop,” he reminded you.

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to,” you told him.

“Did I do good?” he asked, words still a little hard for him.

“Joshua… you made me come on your first try,” you said, spreading a big grin across his face. “That’s far beyond any expectation I thought I could ever have.”

“Do you feel good, my love?” he asked. You tugged his head into your chest.

“Probably about as good as you, minus the first-time rush.”

He’d take it. Especially since he was two seconds away from falling asleep right there. The two of you would wake up in about an hour and get clean, despite the crazy time, and get dressed to crawl properly into bed. He nuzzled into your clean damp hair, letting it wet his body and the sheets as you cuddled up for sleep, long unconscious before he ever would have heard you proclaim your love for him. Even if he was unconscious, you noted the slight upturn of his lips in a gentle smile, hearing you unconsciously. It wasn’t the first time you’d proclaimed your love, but it still made him feel all silly inside.

#joshua #hong jisoo #svt #joshua smut #joshua scenarios #svt smut #svt scenarios #joshua requests #svt requests #hong jisoo smut #hong jisoo scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #prompt game: svt fas

[glamrockmonarch]

The Night Before - (2019!Brian Smut Requested)

Request: can you do a 2019 brain may smut please - Anon

Warnings: SMUT. It’s unprotected sex, remember guys: wrap it before you tap it!

A/N: this gives me too much artistic freedom…hold my mimosa, darling! Also, I hope you enjoy this, thirsty anon!

Brian is the kind of man to take things as they come, he reasons through difficult situations. He ponders all the possibilities. Brian does not let emotion get the best of him, he was raised better than that and now that he is a grown man he always tries to remember his mother’s teachings, her lectures and kind words to soothe him when he was a child. Hence, his reluctance to get excited about the Golden Globes.

You could tell he was nervous but the excitement mostly came from Sarina and yourself; on this occasion, not even Roger wanted to get ahead of himself. The other nomination, Rami’s, was the one everyone celebrated with shameless joy.

You met Rami a few months into the shooting and he was dressed in full Freddie costume; he had even said “hello darling”, which made you feel like you had fallen through the rabbit hole and were now experiencing some 70′s fantasy. Everyone involved in the movie and quite sure anyone who had watched the film would say that Rami made an excellent job bringing Freddie back to life with his performance. And yet, Brian was insecure about the film as a whole.

“Critics know shit!” You assured him once while you sat with Brian, Roger and his wife in a small coffee shop near Piccadilly Circus.

“What she said!” Roger agreed.

Although you dated Brian for over two years now, you quickly got acquainted with many of his friends. Most of them were academics, people working on some next level scientific project, some were involved with animal rights activism and some others were simply friends he had made through the years. Roger was the last friend of Brian’s that you met - odd enough, he was the one you got along with best.

As the day approached Brian confirmed his attendance to the award show, he was timid about it, not wanting to turn himself into a spectacle but being unable to put down his own hard work he asked you to come with him. You found a beautiful dress to wear, a sparkling red gown that hangs inside the closet now as you sleep. Turning on your side you expect to land your hand on Brian’s chest, instead, you find a cold space under the pillow.

You know your boyfriend, so you reach out across the bed and find the lamp, switching it on you push yourself up on your elbows and have a quick look around before cleaning your eyes, you peel the bedsheets off of your body and stand from the bed. Walking barefoot out of your room, you are staying in a small apartment, so you have the whole place all to yourselves. With a sigh you find Brian hunched over his laptop, doing some editing on photoshop. You figure he is editing another stereo.

Without meaning to scare him, you lean down and put your hands on his shoulders, sliding them down the front of his body while you lower yourself further and as your hands now rest on his chest your chin lays on his left shoulder. You turn your head and kiss his cheek.

“What are you doing, love?”

One of his hands leaves the computer and he touches your arm, rubbing soft circles before leaving your skin again.

“I couldn’t sleep…” he admits, “did I wake you?”

You shake your head and mumble a negative answer.

“Brian, come back to bed;” you plead, “tomorrow’s your big day, come on!”

You feel him tense to your words and sigh, already knowing what this is all about. With a working to save his progress you pull on his arm, telling him you will take him to bed he likes it or not.

Without hesitation, he saved his unfinished stereo while you worked your charm on him and kissed his neck, right under his ear. You whined and let your hands go further down his front.

“Bri…” You complained while he waited for the computer to save his work.

Although you did not wake up in the middle of the night with the desire to jump into Brian’s lap you felt like doing that exact thing, but you knew that it would not help you lead him back to bed.

As he stood, you grabbed his hands and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around your waist, you put your arms around his neck and smiled up at him. Brian dipped his head and his nose touched yours.

“You made a great film, whatever happens, tomorrow…we should all feel proud.” You whisper against his lips.

He grunts and nods with a small hint of a smile on his face before closing the rest of the distance, kissing you. His lips moved slowly on yours and you followed his lead, messing with his curls as you felt his tongue on your bottom lip, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss.

You felt his hands slide down to your sides and grab a firm hold of your hips. You pulled away from the kiss and let your hands travel down to his chest, in the meantime Brian kissed your cheek, not that you pulled away, in fact, you tilted your head back to give him better access to your neck as he continued to kiss you, the short hairs of his beard already growing out brushed on your skin with a rough scratch.

Biting your lip you wiggle your way out of his grasp and playfully shake your ass so he followed you to the bedroom. Brian followed right behind you, stumbling into the bedroom as the two of you had barely walked through the door, he slipped his arms around your middle and pulled your hair away to nuzzle into your neck, kissing your sensitive skin. You arched your back in response and reach back to tangle your fingers with his hair while your other hand laid on top of his that pulled you closer to him. A soft moan left your lips and your eyes closed to the feeling of his hand going up to cup your breast through the fabric of your thin nightgown.

You called his name and whined, rocking your hips back to try to get some friction, Brian rarely has you on all fours, but when he does it gets you hot and bothered quite fast. Tonight, though, you are feeling a bit frisky, just not enough. You want him to relax and let loose, so when you feel his hard length poke your ass, you pull away from him and go to the bed, sitting on your ankles as you pull your only clothes off over your head, letting the fragile white nightgown fall on the edge of the bed. You feel cold all of a sudden. Exposed to Brian like this, with your hair falling around your shoulders and not even covering your breasts, nipples hard with anticipation, and panties soaking as you watch your boyfriend slide his shirt off and drop his underwear at the foot of the bed before climbing up to you. Brian caresses your legs, he enjoys the feeling of your soft skin under his calloused fingers from years of playing guitar.

You stand on your knees so he doesn’t have to lean down too much. Your hands go up to cup his face when his find your hips and both of you go in for a kiss. Brian can tell you want him bad from the way your hips roll against his. He is in the mood to oblige, so he kisses down your neck and collarbone, and part your breasts so he can take your nipple in his mouth earning louder moans from you. Your hands tug at his hair and you don’t even try to control yourself, you feel an ache in your core and reach down to slip your panties off. Brian watches you and sits back on the bed, he gives himself a few strokes and when you come back to him you wrap your arms around his neck, pecking his lips a few times while you accommodate yourself on his lap, straddling him, you reach down and position his cock at your entrance. Your breath fans over his cheeks as you sink into him, moaning with your lips pressing on his face while he holds you with a hand on your back and the other tangled in your long hair.

His hands slide down to your ass and he pulls you down onto him, helping you ride him, both of you moan into each other’s mouth and you bounce up and down on his lap, soon the sound of skin slapping skin is the only thing you can hear between moans and grunts. You can feel his cock twitch inside you and you pull yourself up a little more to almost have his length slip out of you and as you sink down onto it again, you squeeze your walls around him, Brian moans loudly now and you whisper in his ear.

“I want you to cum inside me…so, so, so bad…” You even bite his earlobe and hide your face on his neck.

But of course, this drives Brian a bit crazy and now all he wants is to give you what you’ve asked for. He pushes you back and lets you fall on your back on the soft mattress while he pulls your legs around his hips and thrusts into you as deep as he can go, over and over, you scream and grab handfuls of the bedsheets around you feeling his cock stretch and fill you so perfectly, your skin feels like its burning and the only thing that seems to offer some relief is the touch of Brian’s hands on your hips as he buries himself inside you. The waves of pleasure spread around your whole body and you know looking at Brian’s blissful expression that he is close to but relentless with his ministrations.

“Are you going to take it?” He asks, “are you gonna take my load-all of it, love?”

You whine and nod, biting your lip. He only talks dirty once his mind is really off things. He opens his mouth and cocks a brow, a sign that he wants to hear you say it.

“I will…” you moan, reaching out to touch his chest, “I will take your load, Bri…”

You cry out in pleasure, feeling his seed fill you in warm spurs as he does his best to keep up the pace so you reach your climax too. Before you can tell him you’re close he reaches down between your bodies and rubs your clit in perfectly circular motions until your legs wrap firmly around him and your walls convulse in ecstasy. Once you have come down from your high, Brian pulls away, but not before wiping some of his own cum from your thigh, he shakes his head and you sit up a bit, leaning forward you grab his hand and lick his finger clean, eyes never leaving his. You shrug.

“I’m still taking it, am I not?” You blink innocently and give him a peck on the lips.

Brian rolls on his side and lays next to you on the bed, covering his face with his hands as you catch your breaths.

You clean yourself up in the bathroom and crawl back into bed with Brian, wrapping your arm around him, you put your head on his chest.

“I bet you’ll be able to sleep now.” You say to Brian and when you look up at him see that he is struggling to keep his eyes open. “Goodnight, love.”

“Mmhmm…” he falls asleep, no longer concerned about the award show the following evening.

Requests are open!

#brian may #2019!brian may #brian may imagine #brian may fic #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #queen #queen fanfiction #roger taylor #john deacon #queen fandom #queen band #smut #requested #requests are open

[faunusrights]

‘AFTER THE FALL’ - LIVEREAD

I say ‘liveread’ but there’s a pretty decent chance this’ll turn into a RWDEread.

So, After The Fall is finally out in the UK and my copy has landed arse-first on my desk, so I’m gonna read it and post my observations here so that you can experience it with me! And also experience whichever stages of grief I go through as we go!

I will preface this with a warning: as much as I love the characters of RWBY, canon is currently the target of all of my spite, so I’m approaching this novel with HANDFULS of wariness and also salt! Most people who follow me already know I don’t pay attention to canon, nor care for it, nor listen to it, and most of you also know I headcanon Velvet as a 6ft+ trans and queer beefcake who can bend your spine into a pretzel, so I’m already at odds here. As such, if it seems like I’m not approaching this liveblog with the benefit of the doubt: that’s because I’m not!!! Yay!!!

So with that said, let’s enjoy Murphy Wishing Velvet Were Big, But Isn’t, And So Suffering Never Ends:

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Firstly, this book is thicker than I expected, whilst the font is bigger than I’d have thought. I know it’s for teens so it’s not as if this was gonna be, like, 1000 pages in a size 10 font, but this probably won’t take me long to read (although it’ll take longer by virtue of me adding to this as we go). There doesn’t seem to be a chapter list, though, so I have no clue how long each chapter is. Guess we’ll find that out when we get there.

Secondly, the cover of this book sure is, uh, a Thing. What’s going on with Velvet’s face?

Thirdly, the cover is Not Nice to Touch. This is a weird observation, but trust me, I’m tempted to laminate the cover just so it doesn’t feel so... dusty.

PROLOGUE

Velvet’s the narrator, and Murphy isn’t surprised! Velvet’s such a fan favourite that having her not be the narrator (at least for some of this book) would have been an absolute crime.

Okay, halfway through the first page and I did laugh at ‘a terrible place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there’. I may pass that line along to my dad, because it’s a, how you say, big mood.

Fox’s Semblance is Telepathy, which is... a thing, I guess? I’ve seen some pretty creative thoughts on what Fox might have, and this seems kinda lackluster, but the phrase ‘special teamspeak’ IS funny and I love the concept of them acting like it’s a voice channel on Discord. That’s good, and for that I accept this.

(I will note I trust the author of this novel. He seems neat and I already like the humour. I don’t trust M+K but we already knew that.)

‘As [Yatsu] stepped onto [Velvet’s] linked hands, she heaved upwards and stood, boosting his jump as he catapulted high over her head.’

Velvet, bridal-carrying Yatsu: idk he weighs the same as a couple of grapes

I will say, it’s nice having CFVY content at all. They might be Fools but I do love them,

‘[Velvet] pressed the stitched heart emblem to open it and then removed Anesidora, her high-tech camera that used special Dust--’

Anesidora???? That’s the name of her camera??? Of all the things I expected, that was probably the LAST thing I expected. What??? Wikipedia says it’s Greek for sender of gifts, but why that’s the name I am, Not Sure,

‘Combined with her Semblance--photographic memory--Velvet could wield these 3-D replicas with skills and moves that otherwise would have taken years of training to master.’

That’s no surprise, really (and I did already write a short about Exactly That) but I probably wouldn’t have called it photographic memory. Muscle memory, more like? But yeah, that’s pretty expected.

REESE GOT MENTIONED ILU REESE,,,, when will my gay child return from the WAR. LITERALLY. WHERE IS SHE.

Velvet’s thinking abt Weiss dustbun confirmed!!!!!!!!!!! But seriously when will Velvet kiss a small gay Schnee??? What must I do. Whomst must I kill.

OUGH VELVET LOSING THE PHOTOS OF FRIENDS SHE ISN’T SURE HAVE SURVIVED,,,, OWIE. THAT HURT MY FEELIES MR MYERS,,,, but I AM enjoying this angst and that I shall not lie about.

Ruby and Coco, leaders in arms... I will say that the moment of them kinda regarding each other as equals would have landed considerably better had they ever really, uh, interacted in the show. I tend to write Ruby being Coco’s little protege, but we don’t actually have a ton of canon evidence of that really being a thing? So even though I’m enjoying this li’l tidbit, it’s really lacking some foundation, alas.

Fox’s tonfas (is it tonfa time? I think it’s tonfa time) are called Sharp Retribution. Which MMORPG did he get that from?

“We’re Shade Academy’s newest star pupils.”

The sheer cockiness of it all. Ilu Coco.

Okay so, y’all know that Murphy’s about to say: I HATE that Velvet gets treated like a goddamn marshmallow. I’m trying my BEST, I SWEAR, not to complain abt canon Velvet because everyone knows this is my biggest sticking point, but god I hate that she’s written to have such a specific semblance and be so squishy. Aaaaaaaaaaaaa--

Also: we’re having a case of a jumpy POV, particularly with the conversation with Glynda. I know this tends to be something that happens with writing for younger audience, but woof am I noticing it.

I’m liking Yatsu!!!! He had like, no lines (at all) in the show, but he’s actually more of a smartass than I had dared hope for, so that Something.

Oh yeah, Fox is a Vacuan boye! I do like that he’s very chill with everything whilst Velvet is begging for seven different types of death (but could I make a comment abt my Velvet here? Yes. Am I going to? I’m trying not to).

CHAPTER ONE

Owie wowie this is already gettin’ kinda long. If chapter one causes a lot of commentary, I may have to add on in a reblog so the people don’t have to suffer.

Coco is our narrator now! Let’s see how many times the word ‘sunglasses’ comes up (hint: probably enough times that if I took a shot for every one I’d be very dead).

/sees the name Alabaster YOU aren’t a big chunky polar bear Faunus! Leave!

“Who’s your tribe?” “I’m from Kenyte,” Fox said. “But it’s been a long time.”

Vacuan tribes, baby! I’m tempted to see how I could work this into anything, but my lore is pretty stick-stuck so I’m probably just gonna jot this down as a ‘cool thing’. Oh, wait, they’re tribal nomads, which means it DOES fit the lore!!! Nice!!! Murphy guessed it!!! Cool!!

‘A perky Faunus waitress with a pig snout came over.’

With a what. Canon, where are we with traits? Also, like, I feel there are multiple childhood movies that scared the crap out of me with people getting pig snouts so I’m making the executive decision to ignore this line. Never happened.

Racism incoming, so I’m getting a cup of tea.

And we’re back! This guy also has a mace and a mohawk and is he just the combination of team CRDL or what?

‘Coco couldn’t take her eyes off the fit, dark-skinned woman.’

I presume they mean fit as in physically fit but my BritBrain is like ‘hell yeah shes fit’ and now I’m envisioning Coco as, like, maybe a scouser. Can you imagine her with a beehive? Anyway, moving SWIFTLY on.

‘--chain mail crop top--’

I’ve never seen a worse combination of words, which is impressive when I wrote Velvet as wearing bright yellow boardshorts with a neon-blue tank top that one time. And by one time, I mean, every time,

I’ve seen this outfit in pictures ‘cause of Amity Arena but god it sounds even worse in words like. Nobody is hot enough to pull off this absolute jumble of clothes. Nobody is.

I do enjoy big lesbian Coco though, so there’s that.

People have already mentioned the ‘could you picture me in a uniform’ line w/ Thirsty Coco so I won’t give it more screentime but it is a mood, and now we know coco has a uniform kink,

“We’re doing this for school credit,”

fox: i do not want money i want an a+

Velvet POPPIN OFF for Mysterious Reasons... is this gonna be like Qrow’s bad luck Semblance only someone has the Semblance of ‘Will Piss Everyone Off In Vicnity’? I think we call those anons,

CHAPTER TWO

I think I’ll stop after this chapter since this chapter’s a little bigger, and this liveblog is already too dang long. It’s a flashback!

‘Vale has been [Coco’s] home all her life.’

I’m quietly ignoring this line in favour of Atlesian Coco. You cannot stop me. But Coco does have a younger brother, so that’s neat! Kinda! IDK what to do with this information but it sure is there existing!

‘And to top it off, [Glynda] was also hot--’

This is the only bit of canon I will accept, because it’s true and Coco should say it.

‘[Velvet and Coco had] both come from Pharos Combat School--’

Another tidbit ignored because I favour Menagerie-born-and-bred Velvet, but I do like hearing the names of other combat schools outside of Signal. Looooooore.

OH there’s a GOOD PARAGRAPH HERE that I don’t really wanna type out, but Velvet is mentioning how she doesn’t like bunny jokes or puns (’hop to it’, she classifies as ‘harmless-but-hurtful’) and THANK YOU, oh my GOD. I’ve written about this before but if I see one more person have Coco make a bunny joke in a fic I will fight Them Myself,

Oh, Fox’s Scroll has an ‘Accessibility Dialogue Assistant’ (ADA)! That’s quite cool, actually. I’ve been wondering how tech might have functioned for Fox, so we have some confirmation about a Scroll’s use for accessibility stuff! That’s neat! I like that! Also, his telepathy also lets him sense people -- pinpointing them exactly the better he knows them -- so that’s a cool little side-effect, too. Although, I swear these Semblances are getting more poorly named by the minute.

Coco’s weapon is called Gianduja, which is... a type of chocolate! Unsurprisingly.

‘Besides, Coco wasn’t looking for a girlfriend--’

yet.

Coco and Fox have a fun dynamic, and I enjoy it immensely. They’re bros...

Also, how does Velvet procure this very expensive Dust for her weapon, anyway? I wonder if we’ll find out later.

“You’re from Mistral,” she said. Yatsuhashi blinked. “So?” “Your people don’t tend to like my people.”

That’s an interesting tidbit that Mistral as a whole has a reputation. I suppose they mean the Kingdom and not the continent (of Anima), but still.

“Don’t worry,” Velvet smirked. “I’ll protect you.”

ah, that is, how the kids say, hott,

“So it’s a Death Stalker den. Only an idiot would go in there.”

Jaune found dead from a sneezing fit.

Awh, I like Coco describing the temple bit. Already she’s looking out for her Best Boye. Also, playing cards are a cool thing, and they’re the King of Hearts! That’s ‘cause they’re gonna win a lot, too,

Okay, I now understand Coco’s Hype Semblance. It’s interesting! I’m curious how else it can be used, aka how versatile it is, but it’s a neat concept.

Velvet dabbled in fortune-telling when she was younger and I am enamoured with this idea. Also, picking the Queen of Hearts ‘cause it’s the only one w/ good vibes? Love it.

Okay, end of chapter! RIP Velvet who constantly looks like a squishy baby, and even though that still Irks Me As a Person And A Gay, at least it’s. Maybe gonna be a plot point or smthng idk. Anyway, I’m stopping here for now because this is slow going when I’m adding commentary, so I’ll probably reblog this and add onto it later. Less RWDE than expected, but it’s still early chapters yet.

#after the fall #rwby #after the fall spoilers #liveblog #liveread

[grandthorkiday]

Mob AU “Playthings” Part 24

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

Note from @loxxxlay: MOB ANON HAS REVEALED THEMSELVES!! They are @red-shadow-wolf-19 and they have plans to write more Grandthorki in the future! Go follow them for more of their fics <3

They dragged him out of the bedroom when it was announced on the news the next morning. He knelt in front of the large flat screen, amongst the games controllers that had been his brother’s solice, and watched as the a newscaster said in a sympathetic but efficient manner, “Thor Valhalla was found this morning in critical condition after what appears to be an assault. He was rushed to a hospital but pronounced dead on arrival. He was thirty two.”

“The Brat is dead! Long live the Brat!” Mario crowed, and the crew laughed.

Gast used one finger to lift Loki’s face to his. “You always have your exit strategy, sweetheart. Remember?” He said it almost kindly.

“M-may I go back to the bedroom?”

Back away from the crew and stares, Loki bent over the toilet and threw up in peace. He sobbed into the tile floor, aware that no one this time would come in and stroke his hair or hold him or sing some stupid song from their childhood. It was just him now.

They next day, they dragged him out again. This time because he had to cook breakfast. Life goes on.

Gast began making the rounds on the radio shows, calling in to dramatically cry about the death of one of his lost soulmates. He kept Loki in his lap, hugging him close like a stuffed animal. Occasionally the host would ask after the brunette. Grandmaster’s eyes would flick up to his, and he would politely look away. “In no fit state to talk to anyone, sadly.”

Naturally, that really wasn’t the case. Around three o'clock, Loki found a phone being shoved in his face as he laid on the bed.

“Call the hospital. Tell them you want the body. You can do that, you’re family.” There was an emphasis on ‘family’ that made his skin crawl, but he took the phone and did as he was told. Thor had told him to be good.

[read more cut]

The hospital, unfortunately, was making it difficult. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Valhalla, but Mr. Thor Valhalla’s body was released to your Father already. You will have to speak to him and your sister. I am so sorry for your loss.”

“I-I am his…,” he could barely say the words. He’d wanted to scream them for the last six to seven years, and now he barely had the energy to form a syllable.

“I’m so sorry.”

When he hung up and explained the situation, the slap to the face was almost welcome. “Call your sister! I want his body!”

Thor would have cheekily asked why he hadn’t kept it. He would have couched it as a light-hearted question. Loki simply dialled from memory Hela’s number and said nothing.

“I want Thor’s body,” he said with preamble once she answered the phone.

“Oh, Loki! I-”

“Please, Hela. I want to bury him. We-” he glanced at Gast who looked back at him expectantly, “we want to bury him.”

“After he-”

“He’s my husband, Hela…we got married. Did you know that? I’m legally allowed to have a say over what happens to his…remains.”

“I know, Loki. He told us.”

Loki took a shakey breath, the painful reminder of why Thor wasn’t there twisting in gut like a knife. “Hela, don’t make me fight you in court. Don’t make him fight you. Please, right now…”

“Daddy wants to bury Thor too.” It was said quickly, cutting him off.

“Near Mom?” he couldn’t help the hope that entered his voice.

“N-no. Um…he’s having Thor cremated and buried in another plot.” There was a quick and muffled dialogue on the other end of the phone before she came back. “I suppose we could um…share….him. Split the ashes.”

Loki felt like vomiting again. “Split the ashes?” He glanced at the Grandmaster who shrugged and nodded his assent. “O-okay.”

They arranged when he would come to pick up the ashes. Hela tried to invite him to their private funeral service, but he hung up on her instead. He had to be good. He had to survive. Grandmaster kissed his forehead and tucked him into bed for that.

That’s when he brought 'the trophy’ out. Loki nearly screamed and fled the bedroom, but he forced himself to remain where he was. The older man placed the glass container of strange viscous liquid on the bedside counter. The blue iris of Thor’s eye looked unreal and otherworldly, the veins and disconnected tissue floating out like tentacles or rays of lightning. Loki looked at it in morbid fascination.

“I said, it was his best feature,” Gast said simply, running a finger down the side of the glass.

“Yes.”

“Well one of his best features. But you can’t persevere an ass.”

“That’s why you called him Sparkles. Because of his eyes.”

“It’s not like he shot lightning or something.”

“May I keep his things? At least his drawings?”

“I guess. But keep them somewhere neat. I don’t want them everywhere,” he reached over and laid out three more items: a needle, a small bag of blue crystals, and a lighter. He left, without another word as Loki took them.

~2020~

He honestly couldn’t remember clearly the last few months. He remembered the funeral. Gast had made an emotional fifteen minute eulogy before bringing him to the front of the packed church to speak. He stood at the lectern, stuttering out something unintelligible before breaking down into sobs at the sight of the blown up picture of Thor. He had been gathered into the Grandmaster’s embrace, though they didn’t leave the altar. The cameras and the world needed to see him.

After that, his life was series of color and moments of sobriety. He tried to stay away from harder stuff, keeping mostly to alcohol and weed, but Gast kept giving him the crystals when he got 'too weepy’. He now slept and lived permanently in the master bedroom. He didn’t have to cook much anymore, mostly because no one trusted him around a stove. But he was good. Perfect. So they couldn’t complain.

Sometimes, he could forget everything. Gast would hold him in his lap during one of the numerous meetings, and Loki would simply exist, as though he had been willed into being just to please this man. Then, he would catch sight of the bar, or maybe something would brush across his cheek and it would come all crashing back. He would hug the man closer, for there was no one else he was allowed to touch anymore, and he would be given a glass of alcohol to keep quiet.

“My poor Lo Lo. All alone now.” He forgets when this was said to him exactly, but the ridiculous sweater he remembers Gast wearing made him think of Christmas. “Maybe I should get you a buddy. An itsy bitsy friend?”

He remembers the tablet being pushed into his face so he could stare at a Facebook page. The kid barely looked out of high school, standing in his board shorts and tank top, his brown hair being picked up by a breeze. He had a wide innocent smile as showed off a farmer’s tan. The photo was posted by Peter Parker, with a caption 'this boi thirsty! For lemonade it’s hooooott’ followed by a confusing jumble of emojis.

Loki had felt his stomach twist and an emotion akin to jealousy and guilt with a twinge of nostalgia settle there. But he was good. Perfect. So he had said as brightly as possible, “He’s cute!”

“I knew you would like him!” Grandmaster had cooed, as though he had picked out a puppy. He had kissed Loki so sweetly, again he almost forget everything. Even Thor’s eye still on the bedside counter.

Loki was slightly drunk when the police finally came to arrest the Grandmaster. They had been expected, but late. To the mobster’s delight he had made quite a scene. They had been at a restaurant, watching Peter, Loki still stalling the inevitable when they had came, led by Bruce Banner. He had tried to scratch the cuffs away and nearly punched Bruce’s face. To the man’s credit, he had been very gentle and guided him back to his seat before continuing. Gast naturally was home the next day, already gloating.

This time the DA did not push for a gag order. They seemed rather unconcerned with what the Grandmaster said or did. And he took full advantage of that fact.

“We’re still mourning our Thor and they do this! After his family would not come to the funeral!”

“Awful,” the interviewer said, shaking her head sympathetically. “Loki, do you have anything to add.”

“Why are they doing this to us? Haven’t…haven’t we lost enough?” He broke down with each word. They didn’t cut away as he choked and sobbed. It made for good television, he supposed.

When they DA announced they had a secret witness, there was a large meeeting in the penthouse about who it was. No one suspected Loki; he rarely left the apartment anymore, and if he could get away with it he stayed mostly in the bedroom. Besides, the secret witness was apparently in protective custody. Anyone who was late or didn’t attend the meeting immediately fell under suspicion and fingers were pointed even at those who showed up early. It was utter chaos. Gast loved it. Loki slipped away to the bedroom with a bottle of wine.

The day of the opening of the trial, Loki was woken up and made to put on the clothes he had worn at the funeral. They were a little too big on him now, he had lost some weight since then, but he still looked impressive. His eyes were bloodshot from all the drinking and drugs, so they gave him a pair of sunglasses.

“Can you even walk a straight line,” Gast asked him mockingly. He could, but his hands shook. They gave him a flask for his pocket and a packet of cigarettes. He didn’t have a wallet or cellphone anymore. He hadn’t since Thor died. All the money under his and his husband’s old mattress had been taken and redistributed to the penthouse crew, except for a hundred dollars which Loki had used for his last solo trip in the city to pick up Thor’s ashes.

The courthouse was packed with the press and the public when they arrived. Gast waved good-humoredly at them as they entered. He made a big production of helping Loki to his seat, kissing and fawning over him. He let the sunglasses dip for a moment so people could see his eyes. Naturally, the press would assume it was because of tears not alcohol. Topaz settled in next to him, a more 'comforting’ figure than Mario.

Stark and Romanov entered, ignoring the press as they went to their table. They spoke in low voices and passed a cellphone and a tablet back and forth between them. Loki didn’t pay attention, keeping his eyes forward on Gast and trying to memorize the New York seal on the judge’s bench.

“All rise!” called the bailiff. The courthouse stood as a small heavily whiskered man soon and settled himself in the high bench. “The Honorable Patel preceding.”

“Sit down,” the judge said, fiddling with papers on his desk as the courthouse sat. “I will hear opening statements. Mr. Stark?”

The ADA stood and spoke very succinctly. They had evidence of weapon trafficking as well as drug trafficking. They also had evidence of sexual and physical assault, and conspiracy to attempt murder. Gast, he explained rather dryly, was a danger to the city and society and had manipulated his way out of justice before. “Hopefully, he won’t this time. With your help,” he concluded, thanking the jury.

Gast’s lawyer stood as soon as Stark sat and began to dramatically recount the last year: the DA’s first attempt to sully the Grandmaster by manipulating his lover, Loki which resulted in Loki’s suicide attempt. The brunette shifted uncomfortably in his seat at being part of this, but he made no move to shield himself from view. Then, he spoke about losing Thor to thugs collecting a gambling debt. Bile rose in his throat at that, but he pushed it down. He was good. Perfect.

“And now, DA is dragging this man and his loved ones back into court not four months after burying his beloved as some sick way to get votes. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have the poor to end this! Listen to the weakness of this case, and then find En Dwi Gast not guilty!” A few people in the gallery clapped, causing the judge to bang his gavel a few times.

“Stark, are you ready to proceed with your secret witness?”

“Already? Blowing your load a little early, aren’t you?” Gast quipped. The gallery laughed. The gavel fell.

“This is not an open mic night. Please refrain from comments. Mr. Stark?”

Tony nodded, dialled a number on his phone and said a few words. A side door opened. The room gasped.

Loki didn’t look at first. He was good. Perfect. But finally when Gast gasped as well, he swiveled his head robotically around. He let out a cry.

Thor stood, supporting himself on a cane and Valkyrie’s arm. He had an eye patch his left eye and his hair had gotten a little longer than the Grandmaster ever let it grow. Every step he made to the witness box was slow and pained, but he barely seemed to care. His one eye found the defense side of the room and he glared with venom at the older man.

Loki’s limbs moved on their own. He stood, knocking over Topaz. By the time the woman had recovered, he had walked out of the gallery. Gast was calling to him, using all the sweet nicknames he had. It made not an ounce of difference. The judge was saying something and the bailiff tried to intercept him but Val had waved him off as Stark shouted to be heard.

He was standing in front of Thor, the sun streaming over them from the high windows. Thor’s expression had softened as he had gotten closer. He was crying now, reaching out to him, stroking his face tenderly like he had the last time they had seen one another. Loki took the hand before launching into his arms, nearly knocking him to the ground.

The brothers held one another for several moments, the courtroom holding their breath as they spoke in hushed and hurried voices. Finally, the younger let go, turning to Stark. He spoke in a watery voice slightly hoarse from months of crying, drinking, and disuse.

“Can I be added to the witness list, too?”

#frostmaster #thundermaster #thorki #loki #thor #grandmaster #GrandthorkiB #sfw #fic #cw dubcon #cw noncon implied #cw suicidal ideation #cw mental illness #cw drugs #cw rl drugs #playthings #submission #playthings part24

[trulymadlysydney]

The Boy Next Door

Of all the things she could’ve ordered, it had to be a sex toy.  And of all the people who could’ve been her neighbor, it just had to be coffee shop Harry. 

Helloooo my loves, this is part one of my college AU story!!!  I was going to hold off on posting it, but what can I say? I’m incredibly proud of it and wanted you guys to share my excitement.  This all started as a request from a lovely anon, and my brain took the request and spun it into this huge, long, college AU that I’m so excited and nervous for you guys to read.  Enjoy!!! xx

***PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION**

It isn’t that Nova Leary is shy, necessarily.  It’s just that she’s the type of girl who enjoys keeping to herself and remaining anonymous. 

The fact of the matter is that anonymity feels like a rare thing to have nowadays, living in Los Angeles.  And anonymity is the one thing that Nova seems to cling to above all else.

Having grown up in a small town in North Carolina, she’d never faced the struggles of a Californian until she’d come here for school.  She hadn’t needed spare change to park her car.  She hadn’t needed to purchase a bus pass, because ultimately her car could’ve taken her anywhere with minimal traffic.

But now-- now she struggles to balance 19 credits a semester, because, as her mother would say,  “You’ll never get a good job just by coasting along, Nova Gene. Challenge yourself.” (Her mother, bless her heart, had a PhD in astrophysics-- because of course she did-- so Nova couldn’t help but feel the pressure to measure up her entire life.

So challenging herself was the only option, really.  And it isn’t that Nova minds all that much.  Entering her third semester of grad school, she feels accomplished.  As though she’s achieved more in her 23 years of living than most people her age.  Sure, maybe Los Angeles may not have been her first choice.  But hell, it certainly wasn’t her last.  

Currently she sits at her dining table, one leg tucked up under her and the other dangling so that her toes just loosely graze the wooden floor of her apartment.   She absentmindedly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and types something into her laptop, chewing at the inside of her cheek when the results of her search appear fruitful.

“What are you looking at?”

Nova nearly jumps out of her chair when her roommate’s voice breaks through the silence.  She quickly switches tabs over to her e-mail.  Her inbox hasn’t received anything new since the last time she’d checked it, which had been four minutes ago when she thought Jessie was coming into the room.  For the sixth time. 

“Nothing,” Nova says, dismissively.  “E-mails.  Homework.”

Jessie is 29 and works for a law firm.  Which sounds much cooler than it actually is, Nova thinks.  All Jessie does is answer phones and file paperwork every now and then, and she gets to wear the heels she likes everyday so all in all, no one complains. (Except for the days when Jessie does, in fact, complain about every little thing that goes on in the firm and behind the scenes.  Nova thinks she knows a lot of these people’s stories better than she knows her own, which is saying something.)

Jessie looks at Nova incredulously, and scoffs.  “You cannot possibly have that much homework.”

“I do!” Nova says, pushing her glasses up on her nose and clicking the “compose e-mail” button.  For what reason, she doesn’t know, but it makes her look like she’s doing at least something. 

Jessie groans, clomping in her heels across the hardwood floor and over to the kitchen.  She opens the fridge and bends down, which reveals a little too much of the pink lace she’s wearing under her short dress.  When she straightens up, she’s got a beer in her hand.  “Come on, kid  You’ve gotta have some type of plans for tonight.”

“It’s Thursday.”

Jessie rolls her eyes, rummaging through the nearest drawer until she finds the bottle opener.  “Have you never heard of Thirsty Thursday?”  She takes a huge swig of her beer and hums in delight before holding it out in Nova’s direction.  “You want one?”

“No thanks.”  Nova smiles, because Jessie really is a sweet girl.  She means well.  It’s just that she and Nova are two incredibly different people.  Which works out, really, because 95% of the time, Jessie is gone and Nova gets the apartment to herself.  That isn’t to say Nova doesn’t worry about the older girl, but usually she’ll receive a call or, at the very least, a text from Jessie to let her know what her plan is for the night. 

Nova settles back in her seat.  “Where are you going tonight?”

“It’s Brad’s birthday,” Jessie says, and shoots Nova a look as if she’d rather die.  “We’re going out.” Brad is Jessie’s sort-of-boyfriend, but he’s a dick most of the time.  At least in the whole year and a half that Nova’s known Jessie, she’s hardly ever heard anything about Brad that she likes.  Even when she’d met him in passing, he’d been dismissive and a bit arrogant and altogether unpleasant.  Though, for whatever reason, Jessie’s been on and off with the guy for about four years now.  So Nova figures she has to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“That should be fun!” Nova tries to sound hopeful, and Jessie smiles. 

“I’m hoping so, but we’ll see.  If he invites Steven I swear to God I’m leaving.”

Nova giggles and spends the next few minutes chatting with Jessie about Brad and his awful friends.  Sentences like “you’re too good for him,” and “But Nova, did you see what he surprised me with last weekend?” are all that can be heard, and it’s a lovely distraction for both of them until Jessie’s phone buzzes.

She hops up from where she’s now sitting on the counter and swallows the last bit of her drink.  “That’s my ride.  You sure you don’t wanna come out with us?  We can wait!”

“I’m good,” Nova says, shaking her head.  “You’re sweet though.”

Jessie giggles, walking over to Nova and wrapping her arm around the younger girl’s shoulders.  She leans down and presses a heartfelt kiss into Nova’s hair.  “I love you, kid.  You work too hard.”

“Who, me? Nahhh.”  Nova shakes her head.

Jessie grabs her coat and begins to head for the apartment door.  “Don’t wait up for me, okay?  I’ll be at Brad’s tonight.”

It goes without saying, but it still makes Nova smile that Jessie lets her know.  “Sounds good,” she calls. “Be safe!  Wear protection!”

She hears Jessie scoff as she leaves, and it makes her laugh.  Jessie is a lot of fun to be around, when she is around.  But Nova knows that if she were to ever go out with Jessie and her friends it would be awkward for everyone involved.  Nova’s never been the going out type, and all the friends that she would go out with lived back in North Carolina.

She sighs, placing her hands on the keyboard of the laptop and typing into the blank e-mail.

Note: Make new friends.

Backspace backspace backspace.

Note: Make friends in general.

It isn’t to say that Nova is lonely, however.  In fact, she appreciates her alone time quite a lot.

This reminds her of the task at hand, and her stomach flutters.  Cautiously, as if she’s being watched, she moves the curser back up to the tab she was in prior to Jessie’s departure, and double taps, taking her back to the screen that had made her cheeks redden. 

Row upon row of sex toys fills her screen, and it’s quite overwhelming, really, because how on earth is she supposed to know which one to pick?  She doesn’t want to make the wrong choice and get one thats too big.  And what if she doesn’t like the feeling of something inside of her?  The thought makes her insides flip and her ears grow hot. She groans, clicking the arrow to take her to the next page.

She knows she definitely wants one of these, it’s just a matter of which one she wants. It’s a difficult decision to make, especially because, despite being alone nearly every day she’s never really taken the time to experiment with these types of things. 

That isn’t to say she’s never gotten herself off, of course, but she definitely hasn’t tried any other techniques other than the one she knows.  And now there are several toys in front of her, all different shapes, sizes, textures, colors, (do colors matter?), some of them vibrate, some of them don’t... there are just far too many options for Nova’s liking.

What’s worse, she doesn’t even have anyone to ask about these types of things.  She’s sure that Jessie, more likely than not, has experimented with one, but she could never just outright ask her for tips.  Plus, reading the reviews on every single one of these feels almost invasive, if Nova’s being honest.  Like she’s creeping in on these people’s intimate alone time, as if to compare notes. It’s strange. 

Its 45 minutes and a few squeals and facepalms later that Nova finally thinks she’s found the one.  5/5 stars, not too big. Vibrations are optional, but should she chose to use them, it comes with several different speeds.  Plus the reviews, as strange as it makes her feel to read them, all agreed on one thing-- maximum pleasure with minimal effort.  (Not to mention the one review from a woman in Texas, who’d said that it was her first one and it had worked like magic.)

Nova types in her billing information and the address to which she wants it shipped, praying that it comes on a day when Jessie isn’t home, and when everything is filled out correctly, she inhales as deep as her lungs can take.  She examines her purchase one more time, shocked that this is actually something that she’s doing.  God, her mother would disown her if she knew.

She lets out her breath in one quick puff and closes one eye.  She tilts her head so that she’s not looking directly at the screen, and smashes her finger down on the mouse.  When her laptop takes her to the next screen, she can’t help but shriek when she reads, in bold, bright letters:

Thank you for your purchase! 

It’s a week later and Nova finds herself at the local coffee shop like every college student from the young adult novels she (not so) guiltily reads.  It’s stereotypical, yes, but it’s her favorite place.  They constantly have weird music playing through the speakers and it intrigues her every time she’s come in.  Sometimes they sell EPs of local bands on the counter where you purchase your drink, and Nova usually can’t help herself but to buy one.  She doesn’t always love the music she buys, but she loves the aesthetic of it all, so she continues to take pleasure in feeling like a fake hipster.

Today, the shop is crowded, which makes Nova curse under her breath.  She curses a second time after she’s ordered a her coffee, when she realizes there are no available seats in here.  She frowns, glancing around the room.  When did everyone realize this place existed?  Why are they taking over her little corner of campus?

She’s about to go ask the barista to put her drink in a to-go cup, because maybe she can go sit on the grass outside or something, when they call out her order at the counter.  Fuck.  

She takes it and mutters a thank you, and inside she panics while she scans the room.  She can’t just stand there awkwardly sipping her coffee.  Especially because she has her laptop in her other hand, and she’ll just look silly standing there with it.  But she’s not about to go up to a stranger, for goodness sake.  

She scowls without realizing it, and she hears a chuckle nearby.  She’s about to just chug her coffee and go when she hears a voice.

“You can sit here if you want.”

Nova turns around to find who the voice belongs to, and she relaxes a bit when she notices a somewhat familiar face.

She’s seen this guy around campus a few times, although she doesn’t know his name.   He’s cute.  In fact, Nova would go so far as to say he’s sexy-- although he’s nothing like any of the guys she’s dated previously.  She’s only seen him in passing, but he’s had a smile for her every time. 

He’s got a mess of curly brown hair that doesn’t seem to want to cooperate, with a long, stubborn curl resting on his forehead.  He has a pair of glasses atop his head, and Nova wonders why he isn’t wearing them-- especially because he seems to be squinting at his laptop.  One hand is wrapped loosely around a coffee mug, in which she spies just plain black coffee.  How boring and yet incredibly intriguing. 

Not to mention the deliciously thick british accent that seems fitting, somewhow, and makes Nova’s insides feel warm and fluttery. 

He shoots her a friendly smile and nods his head towards the empty chair across the table from him.  Right.

She sits quickly, setting down her own laptop and coffee mug and shimmying out of her coat.  “Thank you,” she says.  “I didn’t expect this place to be so crowded today.”

“Midterms,” he mutters dismissively, and Nova nods in agreement.

“M’Harry by the way.”

He watches her with amused eyes and it makes her feel small in the best possible way.  She settles her coat on the back of her chair and grins at him.  “I’m Nova.”

His eyes widen at her words.  “No shit! Nova Leary?”

“The one and only.”  She nods, and she doesn’t know how or why this guy knows her name.  “How’d you know?”

“It’s not a very common name, for starters.  But also, Mr. Shuff won’t shut up about you and how great your grades were.”

The statement alarms Nova until she realizes who he’s referring to.  She furrows her eyebrows.  “Rick?”

Harry snorts.  “So you’re on a first name basis with the science professors then.”

Nova rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee.  “No.  Rick taught my favorite class last year.  I asked my counselor if I could take it again because I loved it so much.”

“He says you’re the only one who aced every single one of his exams,” Harry continues.  “Show off.”

Nova shrugs.  “I love science.”

“Apparently so,” Harry chuckles.  He takes a sip of his coffee and turns back to his laptop, and Nova thinks that the conversation is over, so she opens up her own laptop and starts logging in on the home screen.

“So, Nova huh?  That’s a cool name.  Very futuristic of you.”

Nova looks up then, absentmindedly tapping her nails against the keys on the laptop.  “Thanks.  Chose it myself.” 

Harry eyes her for a moment, unsure of how exactly to read her sarcasm, and she rolls her eyes.  “That was a joke.”

He smiles then, seemingly relieved, and laughs softly.  “Oh.  Cool.  So Nova’s your real name then?”

“Yup.”  She takes a sip of her coffee and considers her words carefully.  She knows it’s a unique name, one that Harry’s probably never heard before.  But she doesn’t know if he’s actually interested in hearing the origin story of her name, or if he’s just making polite conversation.

“Where’d it come from?”

“Hm?”

“Your name.  Like, what made your parents name you that?”

Nova feels her cheeks redden, because duh.  Of course that’s what he’d meant.  “You’re gonna make fun of it.”

Harry smirks that damn smirk once again and his fingers trace the rim of his mug.  “Try me.”

“The night that they think I was... conceived...” She says the last word softly, because damn, it feels weird to know the night you were conceived.  “My parents were at a music festival.  They looked up and swore that there was a supernova in the sky.”

Harry leans in, genuinely interested.  “That’s sick.”

It’s Nova’s turn to smirk.  “It was a music festival.  In the 90s.  They were on several drugs.”

“Oh.”  Harry snorts at how blunt-- for lack of a better term-- she is.  He takes another sip of his coffee and speaks into his mug.  “I mean... you never know.  There could’ve been a supernova.”

“There wasn’t.”

“And how would you know?  Were you there?”

“Technically yes.”  Harry nearly chokes on his drink and Nova beams.  “Besides.  The last supernova was in 1604.”

“Wow.”  Harry finally relaxes into his chair.  “Pretty and smart.”

“Comes with the name,” she says, matter-of-factly.  “When you’re named after a type of star, you kind of have to know your stuff.”

“I see.”  Harry smirks like he knows something that Nova doesn’t, and it intrigues her.  He tugs at his bottom lip and watches her for a moment.  She can feel the tips of her ears turning red, and she turns to her laptop.  She hears Harry let out a soft, nasally laugh before he, too, turns back to his laptop. 

She surprises herself when she speaks this time.  “I like your accent.”

Harry smirks, but he doesn’t look away from his laptop.  “Thanks.   Chose it myself.”

Nova rolls her eyes.  “What an original joke.”

Harry giggles-- actually giggles-- and it’s so endearing that Nova physically can’t stop herself from smiling.  “M’from England,” Harry says.  “But I moved here when I was 16.”

“Oh yeah?  Why’s that?”

“When my parents divorced, my mum got a job out here.  And I was... I mean, ya know, I was a kid, right?  So I just came with her.”

“I see.”  Nova picks nervously at her thumbnail.  “Sorry to hear about the divorce.”

Harry shakes his head.  “Nah.  Don’t worry about it.  Still close with both of ‘em.  M’glad, anyway.  They drove each other fuckin’ crazy.”  The way he pronounces the word “fucking” makes Nova swoon, but she refrains from telling him that. 

He turns to his laptop.  “Anyway,” he says again, typing away.  “I like it here.  A lot.”

Nova smiles, busying herself with her own work.  “That’s good!”

They’re quiet after that, and Nova is actually able to go over a few pages of the notes she’d taken a week ago.  She’d been studying for the past few weeks, of course, so she could recite this stuff in her sleep, but still.  It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.

It isn’t even five minutes later, however, when he’s talking again.  He’s asking her some question about Mr. Shuff-- Rick-- and his class, and next thing she knows she’s helping him with his study guide for the midterm.  (The midterm she’d aced with flying colors, she reminds him several times.)

Harry is smart, despite science not being his thing.  A lot of the concepts that come as second nature to her don’t quite click in his brain, but the way he talks about them, the way he asks questions, the way he perceives and listens and takes in everything she’s telling him is fascinating.  (Not to mention the fact that he’s actually quite beautiful to look at.)

Nova hasn’t even noticed when an hour has passed, and she actually feels her stomach drop when Harry mutters, “Oh shit, I’ve gotta go.”

“Where?”  She feels stupid for asking, but she can’t help herself.

Harry is already up and wiggling into his jacket. “I have to go to class.  It starts at 3:30.”

Nova glances down at the clock on her laptop, which reads 3:25.  Damn.

“Thank you so much for all the help, today, really.    I feel like I kind of understand it now.”

“Anytime!” Nova says.  “And you know, I’m here a lot, so.  If you ever need help, you know where to find me.”

Harry shoots her a genuine smile, and she crosses her fingers (on both hands) under the table, praying that he’ll ask for her number.  “Thanks,” he says, nodding.  “I’ll see you around, Nova.”

And then he’s gone, and the shop already seems less bright.  (A terrible metaphor but an accurate one nonetheless.)  

Nova stares dumbly at the empty chair in front of her, and she lets out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding.   Looking back, she probably could’ve asked him for his number instead of hoping he’d ask her for hers.  But still. Ouch.

Her laptop has gone into sleep mode and she wiggles her fingers against the mousepad to “wake it back up.”  She’s hardly even glanced at her notes this entire time, and she doesn’t even care.  She’d gotten to talk about something she loved with one of the most attractive guys she’d seen in AGES... and she had gotten no way of contacting him again.

She reaches for the coffee mug, which has been untouched for the last hour, and frowns when she realizes that the decent amount of coffee she had left is now cold.  So she sighs, drinking it down anyway and then closing her laptop.  She can do the rest of her studying at home, where she can maybe distract herself a bit and not think about those enormous, beautiful green eyes...

She stands then, slipping into her jacket and dropping her used mug off at the counter.  (She knows she could just leave it on the table and someone would come clean it, but having worked as a waitress all through high school, she knows the drill too well and figures she’ll just make everyone’s lives that much easier by doing this.)

With one last nod and a mumbled, “thank you” to the barista, Nova straightens her jacket and heads out the door. 

It’s two nights later, and Nova is impatient.

It’s a Saturday night, 9 business days since she’d ordered her package.  And still, no sign of it.

Who is she supposed to call about this?  She considers looking up the number for customer service on the website she’d ordered from, but then what would she say?  “Hi this is Nova Leary calling, is this dildo support?”  

There’s a reason she’s never done anything like this before, and this is it.

She groans, flipping upside down on the couch so that her head hangs off of the edge of it.  She opens up her Instagram once more and goes to the search section.  In her recent search history are several different variations of usernames containing the name “Harry,” and each time she’d clicked on one to find it wasn’t Coffee Shop Harry, she cursed herself for not asking for his last name.

It isn’t that she’s trying to stalk him, by any means.  In fact, it’s quite the opposite.  She just wants to see how he’s doing.  See if he’s taken Rick’s test yet and how he feels about it.  But she cannot find him anywhere, and she’s beginning to think that maybe its not meant to be.

She hears a knock on the door and groans.  She expects it to be Jessie, because most of the time when Jessie leaves, she forgets her keys.  (Although Nova doesn’t know why she didn’t just put her house key on the same keyring as her car keys.  It’s such a simple solution.)

Nova rolls backwards off the couch and shuffles to the door.  She expects to see Jessie, already kicking off her heels and holding her phone in her hand, with her mouth running a mile a minute telling Nova about tonight’s plans and how Nova should totally join her “just this once girl, pleeeease?”  She expects to turn Jessie down, and she expects Jessie to ask her to curl her hair because “I can’t do it like you, kid!”  

What Nova does not expect when she opens the door is Harry-- Coffee Shop Harry- standing in the hallway and holding a white box with that god-awful smirk.

“Well well well.  If it isn’t the supernova herself.”

She rolls her eyes but she does smile.  “Hi.”  She can’t even begin to explain whats happening in her chest right now.  He looks even better than he did at the coffee shop, if that’s even possible, Good lord. 

“Where’ve you been?  Feels like I haven’t seen you since 1604.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpans, then nods at the box.  “What are you doing here?  How’d you know I lived here?”

“Well, turns out this campus is a lot smaller than you’d think.  I live there,” he nods his head towards the next door over, “And this...”  He takes a deep breath and his cheeks redden the tiniest bit when he holds the box out to her.  “This was delivered to my place.”

It takes Nova a moment to register what he’s holding, and when she does, she gasps.

“Oh... oh my god...”

“Yeah... erm...” Harry shrugs awkwardly.  “I was going to just leave it there and hope you realized but I figured...” The tiniest hint of a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth once again, but he covers it and lowers his voice.  “Figured you’d maybe want whatever’s inside of here.”

Mortified, Nova gulps and shakes her head. Promised Discreet Packaging, her ass.

Her fingers feel awkward and cold, but her face is hot and overall this feels like she’s experiencing the most intense out-of-body experience in her entire life.  She opens her mouth, then closes it.  She can hear her heart pounding in her ears, and thinks that maybe this is it-- maybe she’s dying.  What she can feel of her body feels like its vibrating at a frequency unheard of by humans and most animals.  When was the last known case of spontaneous human combustion?  Is that what she’s feeling now?  Should Harry get out of the way? 

Harry clears his throat, drawing her from her thoughts and sending another heat wave up to her ears.  “Uh...” she chokes.  “Well... I... thanks.”  She takes the box from his hands in what can only be described as slow motion, despite her best efforts to get out of this situation as quickly as possible. 

Harry hands over the box and his hands feel warm too.  Possibly a little clammy.  Or maybe those are hers. “Sure, yeah. Have a good night.”

Nova closes her eyes and wills them to never open, and Harry lets out a little “Ha-haa!” that crescendos in the most awkward and unnatural way.  “No, that wasn’t... I didn’t mean...  because of the...”  He nods his head towards the box that feels like its going to melt out of her hand’s at any moment.

“Yeah,” she nods, willing him to please, for fucks sake, shut up before he finishes that sentence.  “Uh.  You too.  Have a... good night.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them makes any type of effort to pick up their feet and move, although for what reason, Nova isn’t sure.  Especially because neither of them will look at the other. And Nova wants more than anything to just close the door and evaporate into nothingness but her feet seem to be glued to the carpet.

Of all people who could’ve been her neighbor.

Harry clears his throat once more for what feels like the 80th time that night.  “Right.”  He nods his head and shoves his hands in his pockets, turning on his heels to head back to his own apartment.

(But not before Nova notices how beyond red his ears are.)

Nova closes her mouth after realizing that a) its been open this entire time, and b) she’s been watching Harry until he disappeared into his own apartment, and she comes back to reality slowly.

Fuck.

When she’s back inside the safety of her own apartment, she sinks down against the door.  She allows the box to drop out of her hands and land with a soft thud on the carpet while she hides her face.  Why did it have to be Coffee Shop Harry? Why did it have to be a fucking vibrator?

Why did this have to happen to her?

She wants to scream, but that, of course, would do her no favors.  So she groans, long and loud until she runs out of breath.  How is she going to be able to face this?  She won’t be able to use this now, knowing that Harry knows about it.  There’s no way she’ll be able to use it.

Except, that is a complete lie.

Four hours later, after Jessie has texted her and told her she’s going to be spending the night at Brad’s, Nova eyes the box that is now sitting in the corner of the living room.  It’s remained untouched since she’d gotten it, but she’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t been thinking about it.  How deliciously teasing it must be on its lowest setting, and how torturously good it must feel on its highest one.  She’d also be lying if she said she hadn’t been practically aching to know what it would look like, covered in her wetness, when she pulled it out from between her thighs.

And, to be frank, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been imagining what Harry would look like from down there, holding the vibrator firm between her legs, and watching her come undone with lust in his eyes.

She doesn’t know why she has that thought, and it makes her cheeks turn pink and hot but she can’t even help it.  He’s been on her mind since the afternoon at the coffee shop, and now that she knows that he lives right next door, her thoughts are running even more wild than before.

And so she gives in.

Soon, Nova finds herself half sitting, half laying on her bed, knees curled up and naked from the waist down.  She eyes the contraption in her hands and lets out a shaky breath.  She doesn’t need instructions on how to use this or anything, but goodness, its so intimidating in her hands that she can’t help but feel a little lost.

But she knows what to do.  And she needs to stop putting it off. 

She clears her throat and sits up a bit more, and with her thumb she flips the switch of the vibrator to the lowest setting.  It hums to life, and her eyes widen just a fraction.

Holy shit.

Even on the lowest setting, its powerful.  Her hand thats holding the toy is buzzing, and her mouth practically waters.  She needs to get this on her right now.

She’s still nervous, and she lowers it down between her legs.  Slowly, so as to build up the anticipation.  She thinks she knows what it’s going to feel like, but she doesn’t fully know. What if she doesn’t like it?

And then she feels it.  Even on its lowest setting, it sends a tingle up her spine almost instantly.  Her jaw drops and she can’t help the gasp that escapes her lips.  Her knee-jerk reaction is to pull it away, and she sits there for a moment, taking it all in.

She definitely likes it.

She presses the tip against her clit again almost hungrily and allows her head to fall back against the wall.  Her eyes flutter closed as she sighs out a quiet “Ohhh.”  It feels so good, especially when she adds a bit of pressure.  Fuck, why did she wait so long to purchase one of these?

She uses her thumb to increase the speed and groans the minute she hears the buzzing getting louder.  She tilts the vibrator to hit her clit from an angle and lets out a half moan, half gasp noise that she knows she’s never made before. With a giggle, she thanks her lucky stars that Jessie isn’t home tonight and she can be as loud as she wants. Because, oh god, does she want to be loud.

She swirls the vibrator against her clit with a little flick of her wrist, and moans loudly just because she can.  It feels good, and its even better knowing that she doesn’t have to suppress that feeling for anyone.  Although truthfully, she’s not even sure she could suppress it if she wanted to.  Not with how good this thing feels. 

She allows herself to fall into a steady rhythm of rocking her hips against the top, and she’s nearly drooling.  Every now and then she hits a certain spot that makes her toes curl and her breath hitch and she makes a note to focus more on that spot.  She revels in how good she’s feeling, and her mind begins to drift.

It starts small.  She thinks about how she wants to do this every night.  About what a shame it is that she’s missed out on making herself feel this good for so long.  About how she doesn’t need a partner to make herself feel good, and how wonderful that is.

But then, she thinks about having a partner.  Someone to hold this against her while they kiss her neck or lick into her mouth.  Someone with long fingers that could curl up inside her while they use their other hand to continuously roll this against her clit.  Someone with a deep voice, so that the words “You like this, baby? Hm? Feel good?” sound like honey dripping off their lips.  Someone with shaggy hair, green eyes, a thick british accent...

Fuck, she’s thinking about Harry.

Her legs kick out and her back arches just a bit when she hits another particularly good spot, and without even giving it a second thought, she turns up the speed.  She lets out a long, loud moan and involuntarily bucks her hips up against the vibrator.  Her head hits the wall once more with an embarrassingly loud thud, but she doesn’t even care.  She can’t be bothered to even begin to care; not when this feels so good and her mind is completely engrossed with thoughts of Harry.

She imagines what he would look like down between her legs, eyes trained on her face and bottom lip tucked between his teeth.  Her cheeks turn red when she allows herself to whisper his name softly under her breath, but it feels so good.  She starts to do it again, but cuts herself off when she hits her clit from a different angle.

Her whispers turn into a moan that almost sounds like a shout, and if she wasn’t so wrapped up in how good she’s feeling, she’d be worried about the fact that the tail end of Harry’s name was completely audible.  But how can she even think about that when she can hardly even think at all?  That familiar tingle in her belly is beginning to blossom, and all she can focus on is getting there.

And so she bucks her hips with a bit more aggression this time, and completely releases any and all inhibitions. A chorus of “fuckfuckfuck” and “shit oh my god” and “yes holy shit yes!” pours from her mouth and echos off the walls of her all too quiet apartment.  She doesn’t even have time to make the conscious decision to allow herself to cum, and its almost ridiculous how quickly she’s reached her orgasm. Especially considering how all she’s done with it is rub at her clit.  Her free hand grasps and tugs at the comforter of her bed, and her bottom lip stings because of how strongly it’s wedged between her teeth.   This is hands down the most intense orgasm she’s ever experienced, and she didn’t even have time to insert the thing inside of her or switch to the highest setting. 

She is loving every single second of it.

When the feeling passes, Nova is left completely breathless.  She flicks the vibrator off and drops it onto the bed beside her, and then she just stares. 

Fucking hell.

She gives herself time to catch her breath, and it feels almost like a struggle to keep her eyes open.  It’s the loveliest, most intense thing she’s experienced in a while, and she feels herself slowly returning back to earth, one shaky breath at a time.

When she straightens out her legs, her thighs twitch repeatedly-- almost like aftershocks.  Is that supposed to happen?  She doesn’t know, but right now, she’s too tired to be worried about it.  With a stretch, she curls and uncurls her toes, allowing them to crack and pop.  It feels surprisingly good, because she hadn’t realized how hard she’d been curling her toes the entire time.

And in the midst of it all, her thoughts drift back to Harry.  She thinks of how kind he must be during the aftershocks.  How smug he’d be that he’d made her feel so good.  And how hard his cock would be... how delicious it would taste...

Nova swallows when she realizes that she’s salivating at the thought of him, and she feels her cheeks grow hot once more.  Another twitch of her thighs snaps her back to reality.  

She can’t be fantasizing about him like this.  Absolutely not.  He’s her neighbor, and she’s only had one conversation with him.  (Two, if she considers the one she’d had with him earlier.  Which, she doesn’t.)

So why on earth is the thought of him using this vibrator on her so sexy, and why had it brought her to orgasm in under five minutes?

Suddenly, Nova feels embarrassed. Even more embarrassed than before.  Which is stupid, because she knows she’s alone in the apartment and has nothing to hide.  But still, she feels so vulnerable.  Exposed.  Naked.

Which reminds her that she is, in fact, naked from the waist down.  

“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath.  She rolls off of her bed and her knees wobble ever so slightly once she puts weight on them.  She tries not to think about her twitching thighs and how wet she feels.  And most importantly, she tries not to think about Harry anymore.

Although she’s almost positive that he’d take care of her in these intimate moments after the intensity passed.  He’d probably get her a clean pair of underwear and one of his hoodies, which would smell like him, and he’d probably help her clean herself off.  Not to mention, of course, how good he’d probably smell....

Shut up, Nova.

She shakes her head and retrieves a pair of pink cotton panties from her top drawer.  Nowhere near sexy, but they’re comfortable and that’s what she needs right now.

She bets Harry would love them.

With a groan she gathers up her PJs, as well as the vibrator, and heads into the bathroom.  Her face feels hot the entire time she’s washing off the tip of the toy with a damp cloth.  (Is that what you’re supposed to do?  She’d read online that she needed to keep the vibrator clean, but is this correct?  Why does this shit confuse her so much?)

Fifteen minutes later, Nova is in bed and the vibrator is stored safely and discreetly in her closet.   She still feels awkward and giddy, like a little kid almost, and her thighs continue to buzz every so often with another little aftershock.  

She’s fading fast, and its hard to even focus her mind right now.  But what she does focus on is the one person who’s been her driving force behind nearly everything for the past hour or so.

She hugs her pillow closer and allows herself to imagine its him.  Imagining the scent of his bare chest, the warmth of his skin, and the gentle thumping of his heartbeat.  She imagines his fingers in her hair, trailing lightly down her back, and his thick accent humming and muttering her praises in her ear.  “Such a good girl for me.”  “Rode that so well.”  “Look so pretty when you cum.”

Nova knows she’ll have to deal with this in the morning, of course.  Or rather, not deal with it at all.  She knows she’ll eventually see Harry again, and she  knows herself well enough to know she will probably never make eye contact with him after tonights incident.  (She has the fleeting, sleepy thought that tonight could be referred to as The Great Dildo Incident and it makes her giggle so hard that she starts coughing.)

For now, though, she’s happy.  And warm.  And sincerely exhausted after fucking herself to the thought of her cute british neighbor.

And so for now, that is enough.

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