#<- reporter who is actually a sweetheart !!!!

[wexhappyxfew]

And the only solution was to stand and fight

And my body was bruised and I was set alight

- only if for a night; florence + the machine

In my experience, Esther Armstrong was always valiantly independent, determined, fiercely loyal and if anything, could exude a hint of Joan of Arc when times were a fair bit desperate. She had a glowing grin that radiated in any room she was in; anyone who was anyone always seemed to mention that about her. She was always kind when I was with her one-on-one, withholding a realm of wisdom and knowledge on such situations that many people did not have time to ponder about. She found the little things among whatever rumblings the papers discussed, and she used that to her strengths and would headline papers for weeks there after. Because that was Esther; she told you the story as if it were your own son or daughter on the other side of the world. She wanted you to be able to feel what someone you loved was going through, in a way where you were not only comforted, but equally being put at a humbled peace for the time being. Just like herself; humbled in her own respects, bringing upon comfort and content, and her warm, glowing grin.

- Cameron Farley, in his article, Conversations with Esther Armstrong (1945)

[obsesssedblerd]

“Oh, Nanaminnnn!” 

At the familiar, cheery voice, Kento looks up to see no one other than Satoru Gojo, leaning against the doorframe of his office with his usual grin. “Saw with my Six Eyes that you came to fill out those reports here instead of doing it from home. Been so long since you showed your face here and—” He cuts himself off with an excited gasp, then walks closer as his smile grows wider. “You brought my little mochi!”

In Kento’s left arm, his daughter—who had woken up from her nap about ten minutes ago—coos excitedly when Satoru enters her vision, reaching her hands towards him. “Well, hello there, sweetheart! I was wondering when I’d see you again!” He slides his hands under her plush arms, then picks her up, skillfully—and safely, Kento notes—holding her in his arms. Tiny hands brush against Satoru’s blindfold, and he lifts it so his niece can see his blue eyes. They immediately soften when the baby girl laughs when he gently tickles her tummy. 

It’s so cute that Kento can’t stop the corner of his mouth from lifting. 

“Wait—Did I hear that right?! Nanamin’s here?!” 

“Itadori, wait for us!” 

“Kugisaki, you dropped your bag—Oh, come on, guys, slow down!” 

Rapid footsteps approach, then the three first years appear at the door, gasping in unison. 

“Oh, my gosh!” Yuuji, the pink-haired teenager shouts as he points at the baby in Satoru’s arms. “Nanamin, when did you have a baby?!” 

Nobara’s question comes a split-second after Yuuji’s is finished. “Is that why [Y/L/N]-sensei quit a while ago?!” 

Megumi walks to stand beside Satoru to analyze the little bundle in his teacher’s arms. “She’s… adorable.” He mumbles, gently smiling when she wraps her hand around his finger. “Very adorable. She has [Y/L/N]-sensei’s laugh.”

“Isn’t she just so precious?” Satoru asks, proudly showing her off to the first years. “So sweet and friendly, just like her Uncle Gojo.” 

“Hopefully she won’t be as reckless as you,” Kento says as he holds his hands out, and Satoru returns his daughter to him. “[Y/N] and I already believe that she’ll be the exact opposite of me.” 

Yuuji sits beside Kento to get a closer look at her. “She’s so cute. How old is she, Nanamin?” 

“Four months as of yesterday.” 

Nobara crosses her arms and pouts. “How come only he knew?” She asks, gesturing to Satoru. 

“Well, when I had to go away on a long mission, she was only a month old,” Kento explains. “He kept an eye on her and [Y/N] for me; made sure that they were both safe. I’m very grateful. We had plans to tell you about our daughter soon.” 

“Where is she now?” Megumi asks. 

“At home. I wanted her to have the morning and most of the afternoon to herself. I’ll be heading back shortly.” 

Satoru and the students share similar looks with each other, and Kento knows what they want to ask. He pulls out his phone and dials your number. “Hi, baby,” you greet when the line connects, “how’s our girl?” 

“Hi, love. She’s amazing, as always,” he says as he looks down, playfully poking the little one’s nose. “I’m with Gojo and our students. They want to know if it’s alright to come and see you.” 

“We’ll cook dinner if you’re too tired!” Nobara chimes in hopefully.

“Actually, better yet, I can just order something for everyone,” Satoru suggests. 

“And we’ll clean up,” Yuuji and Megumi say at the same time. 

You laugh, then answer Kento, “That’s more than alright. Bring them here.” 

“Thought you’d say that. See you in a bit.” 

“Yes!” Yuuji cheers. “Alright, I’m gonna ride with Nanamin so I can sit next to the baby!” 

Nobara glares at him. “Not if I get to the car first!!” 

When they sprint out the door, Megumi groans before rushing after them. “Didn’t I just tell you guys to slow down? We’re going to the same place!” 

Satoru laughs, then waits for Kento to finish up so they can walk out together. 

—

there was an ask in my inbox requesting a cute drabble for dad! nanami ft. gojo (as a trusted friend of his) and the first years, but it disappeared. hope u like it, anon <3 

[astonmartinii]

into the arms of another part three | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x reader

part one part two masterlist tips

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 707,890 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: working up a storm and flirting up a frenzy

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user3: SHE'S BACK

user4: that month she was gone was dragging

user5: i almost forget she has a job lol there's always so much drama i forgot girly was getting the bag

danielricciardo: oh what a lovely picture of you two being gross at dinner i wonder who took it

yourusername: it's this lovely gentleman, i'll have to introduce you. he's quite loud, very charming and should consider going into theatre with his vocal projection

danielricciardo: you think i'm ready for the stage?

maxverstappen1: i think we all think you're ready for the stage

user6: wait so do you think daniel, heidi, y/n and max go on double dates? that's so cute

user7: sometimes i hurt myself by thinking it could've been a triple date if charles wasn't such as ass

maxverstappen1: when she's a triple threat 😍

yourusername: but i can't sing, dance or act?

maxverstappen1: but you are smart, beautiful and can put up with me :)

yourusername: you act like being with you is a chore maxy :( i'd spend all my waking moments with you if i could

landonorris: i'm sending these ^^ comments to my therapist, you guys make me feel so lonely

maxverstappen1: sorry dude

yourusername: lando !! let us play matchmaker ??

landonorris: i'll let you play matchmaker just don't let max have too much input

maxverstappen1: why not i clearly have good taste?

user8: anyone else wondering whether y/n and charles actually spoke after he was seen outside her building?

user9: i was thinking about that too ... i'm guessing they either didn't or it didn't go well by the fact that he's no where to be seen here

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,203,500 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: new weekend, new helmet. this one was designed by the love of my life who put her architecture degree to good use to make me this beautiful lid. love you y/n hope to bring you a trophy back in return 🧡

view all comments

user13: max being the resident grid sweetheart was not on my 2023 bingo card

yourusername: no worries max, it was an absolute honour to design a helmet for you.

maxverstappen1: it's an honour to wear something designed by you

yourusername: call me the adrian newey of helmet design

maxverstappen1: that's a big shout, that i'm inclined to believe

redbullracing: adrian gives his stamp of approval y/n !

user14: i swear in an older charles vlog y/n spoke about how she always wanted to design a helmet for him :( i'm glad she finally got to do it

user15: no shade but at least this helmet might actually win the race lol

danielricciardo: cute lid, is y/n open for commission?

maxverstappen1: nope she's mine and mine only (unless you're paying)

yourusername: what he said

user16: i just know charles is screaming, crying and throwing up rn

user17: probably not, people stop being friends all the time, he's got more than one friend and is a millionaire, he's living his best life

user16: his track record says otherwise, he's extremely petty, he probably can't handle that max and y/n don't care about him anymore

user18: tbf from what we saw charles was looking to reconcile, it's more y/n who has been unreasonable

user19: i think she's well within her rights to refuse forgiveness and from reports charles never apologised, this has been a pattern of behaviour for years now. she deserved better, she's now got better

liked by maxverstappen1

user20: i love that max likes all the shady comments about the situation cause i know y/n would never

charles_leclerc

liked by arthurleclerc, carlossainz55 and 908,344 others

charles_leclerc: always make time for your real friends.

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user21: if there's one thing men will have, it's the audacity

user22: well this is an interesting response

user23: are we meant to clap?

arthurleclerc: what happened to the plan?

charles_leclerc: than plan failed in the minute she closed the door in my face

arthurleclerc: call me, but also stop making excuses

user24: yes it is logical to do this offline arthur, but consider this, i want to read the drama

user25: but at this point how is it drama? it's just charles being stubborn. y/n gave him a full explanation and by the look of it he didn't do a very good job with it

user26: the thing is i honestly believe that however bad the apology would be y/n would still forgive him. they've been friends for so long i think she honestly wants it to work out but shit like this does not help his case

carlossainz55: mate i am so confused

charles_leclerc: what's so confusing? she can say that this has led to her finding "the real thing" but i can't?

carlossainz55: but if you wanted to reconcile, you look like an asshole

charles_leclerc: fine, make me the bad guy like everyone else

user27: charles is really in his whiny boy era lord

user28: all i know is that y/n and max are probably at home having the laugh of their lives

f1wagsupdates

liked by 3,095 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagupdates: y/n y/ln was in the red bull garage this weekend with verstappen's family. max won this race wearing the helmet she designed for him.

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user31: they are the cutest couple on the grid, perhaps of all time

user32: they're defo on the way to that, if they get married could defo grab best couple of all time

user33: the way she still stopped at ferrari to talk to arthur and wish him and charles luck ... clearly there's a bigger person here

user34: y/n is already so close to the verstappens, her and sophie and victoria were together all weekend.

user35: my friend had a paddock pass and overheard sophie asking y/n when she'll be giving her more grandkids

user36: OMG WHAT? what did y/n say?

user35: that she'd have to be mrs. verstappen first

user37: do not play with me right now if we get the charles and y/n friend breakup and y/n and max engagement all in one season my brain may explode

user38: if max weren't winning every race anyway i'd defo say that this is the lucky helmet

user39: i mean grand slams aren't that common, so maybe it is

user40: max win and charles disasterclass, the best weekend possible for y/n

user41: i don't think she actually wants charles to do badly though, she wouldn't have wished him luck..

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,405,649 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: i've won a lot of races this year but my biggest win of all was your heart. here's to forever together ❤️

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user42: i think i just saw charles drop to his knees in monaco

user43: i mean they can still be friends? there was never any romantic feelings he's just being weird about being in the wrong and it being max

danielricciardo: i'm so so happy for you guys, you deserve this so much. all the happiness to you, i shall assume my position as best man effective immediately

maxverstappen1: bit forward to assume that you're best man mate

danielricciardo: wait, i'm not best man ?

maxverstappen1: i joke, you are, of course, the best man and i can't think of a better man for the job

yourusername: just don't go too crazy with the stag night, i've heard about your nights out back in the day (seen the videos too)

danielricciardo: i don't know what you're talking about, we'll have a boys night in, a round of uno and he'll be ready at the altar right on time

user44: why am i actually so happy for people i don't even know

yourusername: i can't think of a better way to spend the rest of my life, red bull drive babysitter and cat mama

maxverstappen1: i think jimmy and sassy might just be as excited as me (maybe)

yourusername: i know i can tell by all the holes in my shoes

maxverstappen1: we all have our ways of showing love, some bites holes in shoes, some like to follow you everywhere

landonorris: the way max could be either one

maxverstappen1: ummm i'm trying to be romantic stop accusing me of biting my fiancee's shoes

yourusername: don't worry maxy, i'd still marry you even if you bite my shoes

user45: this is an amazing thing and not to bring the mood down, but do we think y/n will invite charles to the wedding?

user46: max could as well, they are friends, even if charles is trying to use their rivalry as a 'reason' to be angry at this relationship

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,206,782 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i am lost for words. i never knew i could love someone as much as i love you, and it is my biggest honour to spend the rest of my life with you.

view all comments

user47: she has really won at life i'm so happy for her

user48: who knew being ditched in corsica would be so good for a girl

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1: i love you more than you could ever know, couldn't think of a better mrs. verstappen-y/ln

yourusername: i can't wait to have matching last names

user49: wait is max also going to take y/n's name?

maxverstappen1: yep and couldn't be prouder to have her name

yourusername: awww maxy i love you

user50: so... did charles get an invite?

charles_leclerc: no. so much for moving forward.

yourusername: i won't let you ruin this announcement for me. let the postal service do their job. please get your shit together before you rsvp or fuck off, i have no problem burning that invite.

user51: oof.

landonorris: congrats guys, do me and daniel get a prize for listening to the years of pining that led to this

yourusername: you can get a gold star?

landonorris: make it solid gold and done.

yourusername: girl.

maxverstappen1: if red bull ask whether we drank on this getaway say no

yourusername: we defo didn't spray champagne like we were on a podium and then eat our weight in pasta

maxverstappen1: i had to celebrate my girl :)

note: hiiiii, i know this was highly, highly requested and i hope this has met expectations. i've had real bad writers block and some shit going on in my personal life, so i'm not the happiest with this but could see another part if i get enough ideas lol. thanks for reading <3

[ynscrazylife]

i need to be excused (aaron hotchner x wife!reader)

summary: yknow that scene where hotch says “excuse me” and then faints? imagine that but his wife does it to him.

Having a profiler for a husband gets annoying with how observent he is. Unfortunately, you’re also a profiler, so it’d be hypocritical to complain.

Still, when Hotch notices the slightest thing wrong, he latches onto it. He’s had his eye on you ever since you took a hard hit from a fight in the field. You barely had time to recover before the team had to board the jet again to respond to some emergency Strauss needed them for.

Apparently, a man who claims to be linked to other murders and who was a former BAU agent had made a threat against Strauss’s family. Finally back at the BAU, the team’s stuck calling people, making arrangements, going through endless paperwork to try and get more information and figure out what was going on.

You’re not doing so hot. Still reeling from the pain, but also exhausted and definitely moody. Hotch keeps it professional since they’re at work, but is still watching out for you.

Hours later, after correctly identifying the man and making the arrest (which included lots of running around), the team again returns to their base. They’re going through everything and debriefing next steps, when you abruptly stand.

“I need to be excused for a moment,” you say, already sounding breathless, before promptly keeling over and collapsing onto the floor.

For a second, everyone freezes in shock. Hotch is the first to react. He all but screams your name, dropping to his knees and trying to assess what’s going on.

“Honey, honey? C’mon, wake up. What’s going on? Sweetheart, please,” Hotch says as he shakes you, moving you so that your head is in his lap.

Spencer kneels on your other side, gently taking your pulse and reporting that it’s stable. “Could be exhaustion, dehydration . . .” He trails off, listing all the reasons he can think of.

Hotch uses one hand to run his fingers through your hair and the other to cup your face, lightly tapping your cheek. After nearly a minute of the team standing around, wondering what to do, your eyes start to flutter open.

“Aaron?” You mutter, seeing your husband’s eyes first.

“Hi, hon. You passed out. I need you to tell me how you’re feeling,” he says, keeping his voice soft but letting out a breath of relief now that you’re awake. He continues threading his fingers through your hair and rubs his thumb against your cheek.

You blink a couple times and then say, “Tired.”

Exhaustion, then. “You’re sure that’s it? Is anything else wrong?” Hotch asks, anxious to role out some underlying cause.

You nod, then grimace at the lightheaded feeling it gives you, turning and smushing the side of your face in Hotch’s lap. He looks up at the team and gestures his head towards the door.

They get the hint, though Emily and Spencer do offer to stay behind and help. Hotch thanks them but assures them that you’ll be alright and the team takes off.

“Do you feel alright to sit up?” Hotch asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” you murmur and, with his help, sit up. You immediately lean into his arms. “Ooh, wow. Dizzy.”

“I think you pushed yourself a bit too hard, sweetheart. We gotta make sure you rest properly. Wouldn’t hurt to get some food and water in you, too,” Hotch says, cradling you.

You hum in agreement. The two of you sit there for a bit, Hotch being in no rush to move you. He can’t help but reflect a bit and he sighs, shaking his head.

“What?” You ask grumpily.

“Just a little in shock that you actually excused yourself before fainting,” he says. He recognizes the funniness of it, though he lacks any amusement, still too worried.

You chuckle. “Was tryin’ to be polite,” you explain.

“I’m sure you were,” Hotch says, smearing a kiss against your head.

You continue on sitting, Hotch rubbing your back. Finally, he gets the both of you on your feet, and leads you out to the car. He sits you in the passenger’s seat and buckles you in, driving you home. Once there Hotch immediately gets you in bed, helping you change into pajamas before doing the same. He gets you a glass of water and a snack, making sure that you eat and drink it all.

“Wanna sleep now,” you mumble once you’re done, curling into his chest.

“Of course, dear. Just relax,” he coos, already planning to call you both out of work tomorrow. He does not take his wife fainting lightly and is going to do everything he can to make sure you’re okay.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

You know how in the movie, Miles mom gets angry when he says, ‘whatever’ can you do that with latina!wife for Miguel?

𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Wife!Reader

Summary: Miguel hasn't had a proper night's rest in days, and quite frankly you missed him. Too bad he's too swamped with work to notice.

Warnings: None! Just a silly lil fic.

⚝

You know those days where you’re just teetering on the edge? It could be for absolutely no reason at all, or maybe a collection of things, all you knew was that it just makes every action you take frustrating.

Well, that was you today.

Granted it wasn’t for no reason. Yesterday, Miguel had promised to come back home for dinner and sleep in his own bed, because for the last few days he had been swamped with work and mission reports. You understood the work he did was important, truly, but you missed him. That, and he was a chronic overworker who would only stop when he collapsed from exhaustion, and you were not going to let it get to that point.

It was getting tiring having to beg him to come back to rest, even for a moment. Spider powers or not, everyone needs a break.

“Uh oh…” you hear Lyla say as you march into the monitoring room, but you continue to press onward.

“Miguel!” you call up to him, but he doesn’t even bother turning around to face you, rummaging through papers and swiping through screens.

“Querida, is there something you need?” he asks nonchalantly like nothing was wrong.

“Yes! There is, actually. What happened to coming home yesterday, hm~?” you say, irritation rising in your voice.

“Oh…is it already the next day?” he asks, still not looking toward you. “I’m sorry, vida mía. I guess I got carried away, I’ll try to be back later alright?” he says, trying to placate you.

“You can’t keep going on like this Miguel, it’s not healthy. One evening of a break won’t hurt. Hell, I’ll even help you out with paperwork, and Lyla can too. So come home tonight, alright? For me, please?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he says without thinking, only half listening to you.

“Excuse me?” you say, your voice stone cold and immediately Miguel stiffens, slowly turning toward you with a sheepish look on his face.

“Vida mía,” he says, his expression apologetic as his platform begins to lower to the floor. You don’t have the patience to wait for it though, choosing to swing up with your webs and meet him at his level.

“Miguel O'Hara, who do you think you’re talking to?" you say lowly. "I’m not one of your subordinates, I am your wife,” Your hands are planted on your hips as you look up at him annoyedly.

“I know, I know,” he says hurriedly, “I’m sorry. I said it without thinking.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough. We’re going home, now,” you say, grabbing his hand and leaving no room for argument. “Lyla, have Jess take over for the rest of today, alright?”

“Aye, aye, captain!” she says, snickering at the interaction between the two of you.

“Querida, there’s still so much work I have to do,” he says, resisting your pull but you continue to drag you along.

“Should have thought of that before you said ‘whatever’ to me, Miguel,” you say, but sigh. “I’m only trying to look out for you, is that so bad?”

He pauses, studying your worried expression that was because of him. It caused a wave of guilt to wash over him after he disregarded your care for work instead.

“I know…alright, let’s go home sweetheart,” he says, finally relenting as he presses a kiss to your forehead. Immediately you light up, grasping his hand tighter.

“I’ll make your favourite today, and we can take a bath later if you’d like?” you suggest.

“I would love that, tesoro.”

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @phobia0325, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @raweggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana--belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @phobia0325, @honeii-puff, @ieatmunson

[osachiyo]

" LEMME HIT YOU WITH THAT DUMB DICK ! "

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — dazai, chuuya, jouno (+ tecchou), oda, sigma x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — [n]sfw content, somnophilia, these are random scenarios ok don't come at me, degradation, humiliation, doggystyle, rough, getting caught, pussy slapping, s.ex at work, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, piv, unprotected s.ex (be careful babes), praise, creampie + etc • this was originally supposed to be their fav places to fuck but i had to scrap that bc i lost motivation :') anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! not proofread soz babes

ps. reblog to show your favorite writers support, they're greatly appreciated ! <3

⁰¹ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 — fucking you in a storage room of the agency

This man is a sex fiend, so of course he would love to fuck you literally anywhere anytime. Though he can't lie, being balls deep in your juicy little cunt at work — risking both of your dignities and possibly your jobs has him harder than a fucking rock.

"Osamu— what if we g-get caugh— mmh-!" you let out a muffled moan as dazai delivered a particularly harsh thrust into your cunt, effectively shutting you up. "Relaaaax, sweet thing — almost no one c-comes here — fuck, you're so damn tight," Dazai panted into your ear, hot breath making a chill run down your spine — back arching even further against his chest.

"God, you're so good f'me — so warm 'n right, fuck!" each word was rushed, dripping with lust — the desperation in his voice made you wanna look at his pretty face, pussy clenching just from imagining how good he'd look with his hair disheveled — his usual doe eyes narrowed and a deep blush covering his skin, sweat dripping down his forehead and making his hair stick to his forehead —

Your train of thought got cut off abruptly when Dazai slapped his hand over your mouth, before his hushed voice reached your ears, "shh, stay still f'me, sweetheart."

You were about to question it when you heard the president's voice from just behind the door. The door of the room you were currently getting your back blown out in.

"Yes, I keep hearing strange noises from this one room in particular," you heard fukuzawa's muffled voice — the thought of your boss catching you in the act made your pussy flutter around Dazai’s length, making the brunette grunt in response.

"Are you trying to get us caught, darl'?" Dazai hissed into your ear — oops, you unintentionally clenched down again upon hearing the keys jingle from the other side of the door. Luckily Dazai was ready for it this time, and managed to bite down on your shoulder before he could get a sound out.

"W-what do we do, 'samu? He’s gonna come in!" you whisper-yelled, panic settling in your bones when you saw the doorknob rattle — but before he could unlock the door fully, you heard the high pitched voice of another worker, "president! an important client has come to personally see you."

"Hm, alright. looks like i'll have to tell someone else to take a look in this room later. Let’s go,"

You let out a breath of relief once the footsteps faded away, leaving you both in complete silence until dazai decided to speak up —

"You clenched reaaal hard when he was about to open the door — don't tell me you actually wanted us to get caught, did you, naughty girl?"

⁰² 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 — having you suck him off in his office

Chuuya's job as an executive of the mafia is stressful, to say the least. Not to mention some of the idiotic workers not doing their job right never fails to make his blood pressure go especially high — his anger issues doesn't help his case at all. But what does help is his sweet sweet girlfriend giving him some... 'under the table service' at work.

Chuuya's fist slammed against the hardwood desk, a loud 'thwack!' echoing in the room,

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" he sneered at the poor man in front of him — who couldn't help but flinch at seeing his boss so angry at him failing to complete a simple report.

Truth be told, Chuuya wasn’t really that mad at the worker, for the report at least — he was just.. super on edge from you deep-throating his cock under the goddamn table. He struggled to think properly, and the poor worker interrupting his private moment with you really ticked him off. Can you really blame him though?

How could he think straight with your skilled tongue swirling around his glossy tip so sinfully — fucking tease. Oh and the way you peered up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes glazed with a dreamy haze.

It all made his head spin like crazy.

“-ir, I can re-do it if you would like me to..” Chuuya’s train of thought unfortunate got cut off short, blue eyes snapping back to the man before him — right, the report.

“A-ahem — alright. Have it finished by 6 pm.”

Chuuya hated the way his voice cracked, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands as he tried not to moan out loud when you fully took him nose deep in that right, sweet little throat— shamelessly rutting your hips into his crazy expensive slacks, rubbing your juices all over the smooth, polished material.

You felt Chuuya’s fingers entangle themselves in your hair immediately after hearing the ‘click’ of the door shutting — the guy must’ve finally left.

You couldn’t help but gasp as you were pulled up from the cold, hard floor — and being shoved onto the desk instead.

You felt your pussy throb in your lacy panties as Chuuya spread your legs open — two fingers pressing and prodding at your cunt before sliding the flimsy material to the side,

“Now, let’s get into the real fun, shall we darl’?”

⁰³ 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐎 — teaching tecchou how to eat you out properly

Jouno was a good friend. Even though he might've had a tendency to be a little harsh and.. sadistic at times, he wasn't a bad person. I mean, he had to be atleast a decent person for teaching his inexperienced co-worker how to eat pussy — specifically, his own girlfriend's.

"No, not like that you fucking idiot —" Jouno grumbled, pulling Tecchou's head off of your cunt as he blinked in confusion like a lost puppy, sticky strings of your arousal still attached to his lips. "What do you mean? She's clearly enjoying it.."

"I mean that you can do better. You do want to make her feel fuckin' amazing, don't you?" Jouno raised a questioning brow. "Well, of cour—" "Then start acting like it."

A gasp left your honeyed lips when Tecchou's face was pushed back against your cunt — hot tongue working with even more fervor as he ate you out like he had been starving for days.

"Oh fuck — feels so g-good, sai," you whimpered out — head thrown back and your tongue threatening to loll out from the sheer pleasure the man between your legs was giving you. "Yeah, baby? Feels good when Tecchou eats that sweet cunt out reaaaaal good, huh?" Jouno's tone was condescending — his lips curled up into a cocky smirk.

“Y’smell so sweet - taste so sweet -” Tecchou's voice was low and dripping with need — your pussy throbbed from just how desperate he sounded.

"A-ah shit - can feel you throbbin' on my tongue, princess —" he groaned, tongue flattening against your clit as he shook his head side to side.

You babbled out Jouno’s name like a prayer — all while the man between your legs worshipped your cunt like it was his god, pink tongue repeatedly flicking your clit, making you see stars as your hole stretched around two of his slim fingers.

“Please — wanna c-cum s’ba- mmh!- ,” you let out a strangled noise as a harsh slap landed on your soaked pussy, clit throbbing as you threw your head back once more. “Fuckin’ slut, so damn eager to cum on another man’s tongue in front of your boyfriend, hmm?”

“Don’t — ah fuck, squeezin’ so tight ‘round my fingers, baby - don’t be so mean, Jouno,” Tecchou threw a side glare to the man next to him, which only earned a shrug from said man, “quit talking and enjoy the meal, dumbass. She’s close.”

And enjoy the meal he did — lapping up every single drop of your sweet juices so enthusiastically you’d think that he hadn’t eaten in days.

⁰⁴ 𝐎𝐃𝐀 — morning sex with him

Mornings with your husband, Oda Sakunosuke, were sweet, blissful and filled with love. Sometimes he'd surprise you with breakfast in bed, it's the least he can do considering everything that you do for him, is what he says. But sometimes — you crave him instead of the delicious food.

“My pretty girl,” Oda smiled sleepily, moving some of your hair out of your face to admire your effortless beauty — blissfully unaware to how his deep morning voice made your heart flutter in your chest, and your pussy throb with need.

You grinned back, scooting closer into his arms as you gazed into his deep brown eyes, “pretty enough to fuck?”

Oda raised a questioning eyebrow, full lips curling into a grin, "oh? that's the game we're playing, love?" Strong arms wrapped around your bare figure, the marks of last night still fresh on your skin — a reminder to how he fucked you dumb on his cock only a few hours prior.

You felt your face burn from the memories of last night rushing back into you — god, you two were insatiable - you're sure Oda fucked you in every single position in the book, and it did nothing but make you crave him more.

"Still with me, darling?" he lightly tapped your cheek, snapping you back to the present. You nodded, a gasp falling from your lips as big, calloused hands found themselves groping at your tits, pinching at your cute nipples as he pressed open mouthed kisses on your neck — his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there.

"O-oda—"

"shhh, baby — lemme do all the work, yeah?"

And that's how you ended up with your face pressed into the pillows — silken bedsheets tangled around your bodies as Oda fucked his fat girth into your sopping cunt nice 'n deep.

A large hand was pressing your back into the meanest arch ever — strong hips slamming against the fat of your plush ass with each deep thrust, thick mushroom tip prodding at your g-spot - making you bleat out your husband's name pitifully. Oda only pushed your head deeper into the soft pillows — clearly too lost in the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him.

He watched his cock slipped in and out of your pussy so easily — your slick covering his balls down to his thighs. Oda groaned deeply in his throat as he watched a creamy ring form around the base of his cock — your cunt sucking him in so eagerly that he almost thought it hurt for you to let him go.

You let out a particularly loud moan as Oda's cock hit that one spot in you — you could only bite down on the pillow as your eyes shut closed, pussy slobbering shamelessly all over his length.

"Oh? Did you like— argh! - t-that spot, sweet girl?"

⁰⁵ 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 — fucking you in your sleep

Sigma was a busy man — with running the sky casino and being part of the decay of angels didn't leave too much alone time with just him and you — especially for some.. intimacy. You knew he needed to relieve himself someway — all that workload while being pent up as fuck certainly wasn't good for him. Plus, you have been craving him as well.. so you came up with an easy solution.

The door to your shared bedroom clicked open — your beloved boyfriend, Sigma, letting himself in as his eyes racked over the entire room, searching for anything out of the ordinary — you did tell him that you had a surprise for him, after all.

Upon finding nothing, he stalked over to the bed, confusion lacing his features as he glanced over at your sleeping form. Slender hands slowly slipped the soft blanket off of you and oh —

It all clicked suddenly.

The lavender coloured lace suited your complexion so perfectly, the expensive material hugging your features like it was made for you. Sigma gulped, eyes fixating on the way your tits were practically spilling out of the flimsy fabric — your stiff nipples very much visible to his hungry gaze.

It wasn't long before he had his face buried between your plush thighs — Sigma was so desperate, not even bothering to take the lingerie off your body. Besides, why would he when you just looked way too good in it?

He was practically eating you out through the thin lace — nose bumping against your clothed clit as his tongue tried to push deeper into your cunt. You had him in a chokehold — but he couldn't care less.

Sigma's slim hips were rutting into the expensive sheets — precum leaking from his sensitive tip as he tried his best not to cum untouched just from tasting your sweet pussy, but fuck, you were making it so hard for him.

He felt his cock throb in his pants when you started letting out soft moans and sighs in your sleep — or were you even asleep anymore? He didn't know and neither did he care — mind too focused on making you cum on his pretty face.

"ohh s-shit — best surprise - sluurrp - e-ever—" he whined into your cunt, spitting directly into your sticky hole before slurping it all back up.

Safe to say, he definitely enjoyed your little surprise.

© 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ do not copy/translate/repost and/or recommend any of my works on different platfroms under any circumstances. reblogs greatly appreciated !

[augustinewrites]

based on this

your frowning face appears in the mirror as wriothesley fixes his hair for the third time that afternoon, admiring how the gel he’d borrowed from clorinde was surprisingly adept at slicking back his unruly hair. 

“we can’t be late,” you remind him, fiddling with the collar of your dress. “father despises tardiness…”

“awe, are you worried i’ll make a bad first impression?” he asks, finally turning to face you. “don’t worry, sweetheart. parents love me. well, maybe not my foster parents. but i’m always a hit with other people’s.”

the comment about his…colourful past  goes right over your head. you really are worried. “it’s not you i’m worried about. father can be…intense.”

“i work in a prison. it can’t get more intense than that,” he reminds you, grabbing the gift bag sitting by the door. “besides, once we pull out this bad boy, he’ll be so impressed that he’ll ask me to join you for lunch next week too.” 

of course, he had no actual idea if the wine navia had chosen was any good. though his wallet had come back significantly lighter, so that had to mean it was halfway decent. 

“wriothesley,” you say, still looking deeply concerned. “you do know that father is–”

“intense, babe. i know,” he sighs, cupping your face in his hands and placing a kiss between your furrowed brows. you try to wriggle out of his hold, but he doesn’t let you, gently keeping your focus on him. “don’t worry, alright? i’ll shake his hand, we’ll talk about safe topics like the weather and how great the aquabus is. i’ll even use my best table manners when the food comes.” 

his thumbs gently brush your cheeks as you sigh, shaking your head slightly. “i just really want you two to get along.” 

“i can be plenty charming when i need to be,” he says, only letting you go to pull the front door open. “besides, who wouldn’t want a duke as a son-in-law?”

______

business at café lutece is unusually empty today, wriothesley observes. all of the tables are reserved, but remain empty at the height of the lunch rush. 

you don’t seem to notice this, fingertips drumming the surface of the table 

“quit fidgeting,” wriothesley murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“i’m just nervous,” you mutter, knee beginning to bounce. wriothesley chuckles, stilling it with a firm hand. 

you look up at him, smiling as you place your hand over his. “thanks.”

the waiter comes back with the tea he’d ordered earlier, leaving a teapot and two small jars of sugar and milk. he’s in the middle of pouring you a cup when you suddenly sit up.

“father!”

“oh shit,” the duke mutters, quickly getting on his feet. he glances down at his outfit briefly, making sure his buttons are done up properly and his sleeves are rolled neatly before holding out his hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you–”

wriothesley’s open stance shifts into a protective one, immediately putting himself between you and the knave. 

“well, isn’t this sweet,” the harbinger says, clearly more amused than threatened. 

wriothesley looks back at you, incredulous. “your father is a fatui harbinger?!”

“all children of the house of the hearth refer to me as such,” she answers, gracefully pulling out and taking a seat across from him. “sit, your grace, and prove to me why you should continue to be allowed to court my child.”

_____

sitting face to face with the knave was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-inducing. exhilarating because she was the knave. skilled in combat and espionage and one of the highest ranking harbingers.

nerve-inducing because she was your father. and as much as he wanted to engage her in a battle of wits and fisticuffs, that was not something one did with their father-in-law. 

“i trust business at the fortress is going smoothly, your grace?”

wriothesley casts the harbinger a wary look over his teacup. “you can read about childe’s status in the report i had sent over last week.”

“well, you know better than most that information from inside sources is much more valuable.”

both their gazes drift to you, and you send him an apologetic look.

“oh, relax,” the woman across from him laughs. “i was simply making conversation. since i’m short of time, however, i will make the point of our visit quite brief.”

she leans forward, clasping your hand in hers across the tabletop as she fixes wriothesley with a paragliding glare.

“if you ever hurt my child, or she comes to any harm whilst in your care, there is not a corner of the ocean dark enough for you to hide.”

“father!” you gasp. “you said you wouldn't threaten him.”

it’s almost eerie, how easily the dark expression slips off her visage. “that wasn’t a threat. c'était une promesse.” 

[bet-on-me-13]

Lois Lane is actually Ellie Phantom

Idea came from a comment @ourrechte-blog made on This post

So, back when Ellie was traveling the world, she saw quite a few things that she really didn't like. War Crimes, Humans Rights Violations, Poverty, etc.

And she really wanted to draw some attention to those problems, but she knew that as some random kid those stories would never receive the press they deserved. So she decided to Become the press instead.

She went back to Danny, who was also on the run, and they both got new Identities. Danny became Sam "Daniel" Lane, and Ellie became Lois "Ellie" Lane. (Also she reverted to her true age, so the ages matched up)

Ellie, now Lois, began to go to School so she could establish her new identity. Eventually, she managed to get to College, Graduated, and got a Job at the biggest newpaper she could, the Daily Planet.

She was now living her best life. She was a credited reporter, her dad was a Military General, and she was spreading the word about all the problems in the world that often got overlooked.

Then, one day, Lois met a really nice guy named Clark Kent. He was such a sweetheart, and had such a kind personality. She was immediately smitten.

Even Danny liked him, and Danny barely liked anyone for fear of them hurting his daughter.

And it got even better when she figured out that he was Superman, a Superhero just like her dad used to be. She proved it when she jumped off of the roof of the Daily Planet and he caught her. (She was never in danger, she can fly too. But she did decide that even if he wasn't superman, she trusted him enough to tell him that she had powers)

They got married, and one day Clark came home looking disturbed about something.

Apparently he just found out that a company called Cadmus had tried to Clone him.

She was not happy when he told her that he didn't want to accept the kid.

"Clark. So help me Ancients, if you left that poor boy alone and rejected him after he did nothing wrong I am going to string you up by your toenails and let my Uncle Fright go to town on you with his Magic Sword!"

"I-I know what I did was wrong honey, but why are you so angry about it?!"

"Clark, I'm also a Clone! You know I don't have a Mom, how did you never ask my dad or me about that!?"

"I thought he was dead or something! I'm sorry!"

"We'll talk about this later, let's go talk to that poor kid."

"Yes ma'am."

[drunkenlionwrites]

alright curveball what typical archetype would boothill be in a high school setting and what would he be like with his partner >:) (hc format please)

Boothill HS AU headcanons:

OMG OMG nonnie, that’s such a cool ask. I honestly would’ve not thought about this concept myself, cause school was so so long ago for me, but I’ve got the vision of HS Boothill right away when I read it💖 CW: none, g/n reader

So Boothill as the archetype would be ‘the classmate who looks like a local thug but is actually the kindest soul.’

Imagine your classmate who is not really studious and can disrupt the lesson by loudly laughing and talking in class and does this 5/5 days per week. He’s loud and brush and sometimes vulgar.

Once, he kicked and cussed out the vending machine out in hallway so loudly when you passed by that it made you physically jump. Even though he’s noticed that and tried to apologize to you, calling out your name through the hall, since that time you’ve decided that you don’t like him.

You are slightly annoyed by this and never approach him, but he’s got a big presence in school, so you see and hear things about him from time to time, though you don’t know which rumors are true and which are not. Some of them sound crazy: once he beat 4 to 5 upperclassmen alone. Some say it was 10 of them. Some say he’s got something on the principal; hence he doesn’t get in trouble with anyone. Some say it’s cause he’s the principal’s kid. Or lover. Those all sound crazy and unrealistic, but who knows?

Once you see him really beating up someone behind the school building with your own eyes. You stand there and watch for a bit, thinking about reporting this to someone, but then you notice Boothill coming up to a smaller kid, sitting on the ground not far away, comforting him and picking up his bag, helping the kid to pack the contents inside. You just hear never-ending ‘thank you’s in between small sobs and Boothill’s warm laughter afterwards.

Another day, you hear him quarrelling loudly with a teacher, which sounded again completely disrespectful from his side. Later, from murmurs around school you learn that he stood up for the shyer kid when he thought that they were unjustly reprimanded.

Once you saw him in the street after school on the day when he was missing, presumably staying in sick or something. He shouted out your name from the tree, causing you to flinch again. Turns out, he spent hours trying to get one stubborn kitty to come to him, skipping classes cause of it.

It was a bit awkward when you started dating, cause being in his orbit meant that you too became more known in school and began noticing stares and hearing whispers about you.

Boothill is a total sweetheart with you, even though he can be slightly obnoxious and is not good at reading the mood from time to time. It doesn’t matter since his positive outlook and mostly always good mood is oh so infectious.

He’s also very physical, not minding the pda at school. Walking with you holding your hand, hugging from behind etc.

He doesn’t mind spending the whole day at school attempting to study, especially if you’re a diligent student. Though he is a student who’s always ready to and will bail classes and will try to talk you into skipping school with him cause it’s just too much fun stuff happening outside that seems much more important to him.

I see the dynamic as a he’s a good influence in terms for teaching his s/o to be more assertive and confident in themselves and in return being the one who needs to be stopped and calmed out a bit when he acts on a whim.

[miguelsslvt]

MOTHERR!!

I have a raging NEED for brat reader. Honestly just tiny things that reader thinks nothing of but miggy (miguel) is actually keeping tabs and when reader gets to a certain number or just does something to piss miggy off you get a punishment 🤭

brat tamer! miguel x bratty! reader smut

word count: 2.17k

TW: spanking, punishment, NSFW, smut under cut, possessiveness (???), use of ‘girl’ and ‘pussy’, y/n is a bratty icon

A/N: can u notice i got a bit carried away? happy kinktober!

Miguel wasn’t a pussy. You knew that for sure. He never backed down on anything, whether that be a bet, or a dare, or a fight, or even his girlfriend.

He knew having a girlfriend like you would be a challenge for him, and to be honest, he liked a challenge. being a man of his age, he didn’t do too well with easy girls. Girls who would do anything for Miguel. That gave him the ice, thinking of a girl willingly doing what Miguel wanted. No. He didn’t want that.

He wanted a girl that could bite back. A girl that could tease, and whine, but make it look good. he realised that when he met you.

You, who would go out of your way just to make a snarky comment towards Miguel, you whine when he puts you on a particular mission with a spider totem you didn’t like. You, who would roll your eyes when he told you to bend over, or when you would scoff and even laugh at him after he told you to behave.

But, at the end of the day, what he loved most, was every time he told you to do something, you would end up doing it at the end. He liked that. Knowing that he was the only one you would actually listen to. He felt powerful, knowing that such a pretty thing like you would always end up falling under his little traps.

That was until today.

it all started in the morning, when you were latching onto him like a koala as he got ready. ‘Don’t go today miggy, can’t we just stay home?~’ you whined, causing Miguel to sigh. ‘We can’t, hermosa. The multiverse is in da-‘ ‘my pussy is in danger!!’ you whined, causing miguel to raise an eyebrow. ‘How can your pussy be in danger?’ He asked, you smirked. ‘negligence.’ You said, as he scoffed. ‘We had sex less then 9 hours ago-‘ ‘that doesn’t matter!! Please miggy~’ he ended up having to drag you off him and took you to work himself that day.

But oh, it didn’t stop there. All day, you would find pets and small excuses to go into Miguel’s office to burden him. First you came in for paperwork, then to give more paperwork, then you came in to remind him lunch was soon, then you came in again to report an anomaly. Miguel knew what you were doing. I mean, you could easily call him or put the paperwork into holographic paper so he could access it easier. He knew you only came in to see him. he was tempted, truly, but he had a job to do.

‘Here again, hermosa? I might have to disconnect Lyla and make you my PA.’ he said, turning around to you, as Lyla appeared, scoffing in an over-dramatic manner. You just chuckled. ‘I could never replace someone as perfect as you Lyla.’ You said, as Lyla smiled, disappearing. ‘What are you doing here again exactly?’ Miguel asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Well, you’re a smart guy miggy, I’m sure you know I just wanna see you!’ You said, Miguel sighed.

‘Sweetheart, you’ve been nagging me all day.’ He said, as you smirked. ‘I haven’t heard any complaints.’ ‘Well now you are.’ He said, sighing and putting his hands on your cheeks. ‘As much as I love you and your persistence, I can’t today. How about later, hm?’ He tried to compromise, which made you even more frustrated. ‘Later? ..hm. fine. I’ll wait later.’ You said, walking out and shutting the door. i’ll show you later. you thought, smirking and going into the cafeteria for lunch.

By 3pm in Nueva York, it was the prime of lunch in the spider HQ cafeteria. Miguel walked in, off to order something to help his growling belly, when he stopped and noticed you with hobie brown. You were touchy with Hobie, hand on his arm and sometimes even on his leg, giggling and talking away to him. You looked over to Miguel, smirking maliciously as you continued.

He knew what you were doing. You were trying to make him riled up. And it was fucking working. Lyla suddenly appeared beside Miguel. ‘Miguel, your heart rate’s sped up. Are you-‘ ‘I’m fine, Lyla. Help out spider-byte or something.’ He said frustratedly, walking over to you and Hobie.

‘Oh hi sweetheart! You don’t look too good..’ You teased, Miguel smirked bitterly. ‘I’m fine. How’s work?’ He said, as you smiled widely. ‘Oh it’s going great! Me and hobie have been bonding really good!’ You said, smiling. You could see Miguel’s jaw move, signifying his fangs have extended. You knew Miguel well enough to know he was fuming. Lyla appeared again.

‘Sir your heart ra-‘ ‘Lyla leave. Now.’ He said, as Lyla nodded, rolling her AI eyes as she disappeared. Hobie raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you alright mate? You don’t seem a-‘ ‘I’m fine.’ He said, looking at you. ‘I’ll see you at home, yes?’ He asked, eyes narrowing.

You smirked. ‘I dunno, me and hobie were talking about hitting the club toget-‘ ‘the club?’ He cut you off. You smiled ‘innocently’. ‘Mhm!’ you replied, Miguel smirked bitterly. ‘How about we have a nice little ‘chat’ huh honey?’ He said, as you smiled, standing up. ‘Mm no, I don’t think so. how about later, hm?’ you said, quoting what Miguel said before. He raised a brow. ‘You sure you wanna do take road?’ He warned, as you smiled warmly. ‘I’ve gotta go refill my drink. Talk to you later?’ You said, as he sighed, holding your arm lightly, but enough to pull you closer to him, his mouth next to your ear. ‘My office. 5 minutes.’ Was all he said, before walking away. Suddenly, he was hungry for something else.

————————————————————————————

As you walked in, you made sure to lock the door. You walked up to Miguel’s platform, his back facing towards you. You looked at his muscles, biting your lower lip as you remember the countless of times you would scratch that perfect back of his, as he made you scream of ecstasy.

‘Lyla, do not disturb until I turn you back on.’ He said, his voice in a low growl. Lyla nodded. ‘Yes captain!’ the AI said, wearing a sailor suit before disappearing.

You took in a deep breath, considering to apologise. fuck no, you thought. You got this far, might as well seal the punishment, right?

‘There a problem, sweetheart?’ You teased, putting your hand on his shoulder, massaging it. ‘You look tense..’ You whispered in his ear, as he took in a deep breath, turning around, looking at you. His eyes were hazy, filled with lust and desire. You tilted your head innocently.

‘Bend over the desk.’ He said in a low growl. You smirked. ‘Or what?’you teased even more. he tilted his head up, not taking his eyes off of you. ‘Don’t make me ask again, pretty girl.’ He said firmly. You just scoffed, doing as he said. You bent down, arching your back. He lifted your skirt up swiftly. ‘Safe word?’ He asked, as you rolled your eyes. ‘red. Now are you gonna be a little bitch and stand there or-‘ you got cut off by a large spank on your ass, as you gasped loudly, your hands holding onto the desk. ‘Count for me, princess.’ He teased, as you bit your lower lip. ‘Fuck y-‘ spank! ‘a-ah okay f-fine!! t-two..’ You said breathlessly, as he smirked. ‘You’re learning.’

spank! ’f-fuck! Three..’ You panted, your ass burning from the sensation of Miguel’s hands hitting it with such force. That’s another thing you love about Miguel. How he could punish you but you could still enjoy it.

’T-twenty!! Please.. p-lease Mig..’ You panted breathlessly. He rubbed your sore ass now, leaning closer to your ear. ‘Have you learned?’ He whispered, as you nodded quickly. ‘I-i’ll be good.. I’ll be so good for you..’ you whispered, as he sighed. ‘ah.. there she is.’ He whispered, his fingers going down towards your slit. ‘Just had to show you who’s boss again, hm?’ He teased, putting in one finger, causing you to gasp, trying to lean your head up, as he pushed it back down with his other hand. ‘Head down, hermosa.’ He said, as you whined a little. ‘You ready for another finger?’ He asked, as you nodded. ‘Y-yes just put it in already..’ You whined, as he smirked, waiting for it.

‘..please.’ you said eventually, as he chuckled, putting another finger in, causing you to hold onto the desk again, gasping in the burning pleasure. ‘Just have to fuck you dumb on my fingers to get you to listen, hm? You like it when you’re full of me?’ He teased, playing with your hair as he leaned to your ear again, placing sloppy kisses on your neck. You nodded. ‘y-yes.. you know I do mig..’ you whispered, as he smirked, going up to your ear once again. ‘Just wait till you’re full of my cock again. You think you can handle it?’ He asked, as you moaned loudly as he pumped his fingers deeper inside you. He smiled softly. ‘Silly question, I know you can handle me. You do it every time like the big girl you are, right?’ He asked, as you moaned breathlessly. He pulled his fingers out of you. ‘That was a question, love.’ He whispered, as you nodded. ‘Y-yes! I-i can take it.. i take it every time, you know I do..!’ you whined, as he smirked, looking at your lust-filled expression on your face.

Your cheeks were flushed, your mouth slightly agape as you panted, your hair messy and eyes half lidded. miguel could feel himself twitch in his pants. He put his two fingers in his mouth, licking them clean as he used his other hand to unbuckle his pants.

‘You ready?’ He whispered to you, as you nodded. ‘words.’ He said, as you looked up at Miguel through your lashes. ‘Just put it in you teasing fucke-‘ you got cut off by a loud moan, as he put his thick tip inside of your pussy. He smirked, watching all the frustration and fight fall out of your face. You bit your lower lip, whimpering. No matter how many times you two fucked, nothing could ever prepare you for the feeling of his cock inside you.

‘Where’s all that brattiness gone, hm?’ He asked, slowly sliding in inside you, letting out a quiet groan. ‘I could’ve sworn you were telling me about hobie brown just a few minutes ago..’ He teased, as you gasped, moaning. ‘H-he could never fill me like you can miggy.. o-only your girl..’ You reassured breathlessly, as he chuckled, leaning closer to your ear. ‘I know baby, I know. Only dumb for my cock, right?’ He cooed, as you nodded before gasping once again as he started pushing in and out. He held your hips in place, as you fell back onto the desk, your back arching into him, causing him to hit all the deep spots inside you. You were a moaning mess, as he watched as his pretty little brat fell apart on his cock. He felt his pride and lust coming out as he held onto her hair lightly. ‘Like it, hermosa? Like being fucked dumb, all you needed was a good dick down to shut up that filthy mouth of yours?’ He teased, as you were practically incoherent. You nodded mindlessly, as he smiled softly, chuckling in your ear. ‘Cant even hear a word I’m saying, can you? Only thinking about how close you are.’ He mocked, as you moaned again, tears spilling from your eyes as his pace sped up.

‘C-close!’ You said a few minutes later, holding onto the desk for dear life as Miguel drilled himself into you. ‘Yeah I know baby, can feel you tightening around me, you wanna cum? Hm?’ He asked, as you nodded. ‘Yes! please.. p-lease I’ll be a good girl.. I-i’ll be your good girl just please..’ You babbled, as Miguel just chuckled, shutting you up by putting his fingers in your mouth. ‘Talking too much, honey.’ He teased, as you moaned through his fingers. He felt your walls clamp around him, signalling your near. He sped up, chasing his own high as well as yours.

Soon enough, you came undone. You moaned loudly, eyes rolled back as you hit your euphoria, your walls spasming around Miguel causing his high to crash too. He grunted deeply, as he continued to thrust his load inside you. you felt his cum deep inside you, as you came back from your high, Miguel panting, giving you one last hard thrust as he finished.

He pulled out slowly, grunting quietly as he moved your jaw to look at him. Your face had that pretty blissed out expression, the one you usually got when you had been fucked dumb. good. Maybe that’ll teach you a lesson next time.

————————————————————————————

[daycourtofficial]

Everything is Not As it Seems

Summary: You’ve been abducted, and the inner circle have to find you as quickly as possible.

Author’s note: this idea’s been floating around my head all weekend so I needed to get it out. I’m thinking this will be three parts - I already have part two done and some of three ! Also I’m a bit obsessed with the idea of Evil!Eris.

You received a letter three days ago that hasn’t left you alone since. It’s a simple letter, requesting your presence, but it’s signed by a mysterious “hound”.

You’ve mentioned the letter to the Inner Circle, at first they thought it might be someone just messing with you. Telling them that there are things in the letter about you caused some of them to get really nervous.

“What do you mean, specific details?” Rhys asked, as you brought up the letter.

“Little things,” you reply, sitting in the seat next to Rhys, “for instance, it’s addressed to me as ‘Little Fox’. That’s a nickname my brothers gave me because I was born in the autumn court. There’s a line from one of my favorite poems at the bottom. They mention my favorite flowers. It’s small things, but I’m not sure. Things that people could know about me. It’s like they’re luring me in by telling me they know me. I really feel an urge to go to find out who this is.”

“If someone’s stalking you, sweetheart, running into their trap isn’t what you should do,” Cassian says, looking over your shoulder at the letter in your hand.

“I don’t think they’re stalking me - I just think it’s someone that knows me, or at least used to know me,” you say, pausing. “I don’t know how I feel about going. On one hand, why stay anonymous? On the other, what if they have important information? I don’t know what to do.”

Rhys is the only one who looks like he’s actually considering you going to this meeting, everyone else looks apprehensive.

“I think it could be beneficial. Even if they don’t have much to tell us, it could help us determine another ally,” the high lord states.

Azriel is trying to stay calm on the outside, but he is going feral on the inside. Sending you, alone, into most likely enemy hands? He won’t stand for it.

“We’re not risking your life for knowledge on potential allies,” Azriel remarks, looking at you not with possessiveness, but fear. “None of us want anything to happen to you. There’s not much to gain from this, Rhys, but there’s a ton to lose.”

You look at him for a moment, forgetting the point of this meeting, seeing the concern in his eyes as they’re focused on you. You’re about to say it’s a bad idea, not wanting to cause Azriel anymore stress, when Rhysand states, “you’ll go. End of discussion. We’ll have Feyre and Cassian nearby on the lookout for you.”

Seeing Azriel’s distress during the meeting almost made you beg Rhys to reconsider, but the high lord is currently under such a high level of stress, the last thing he needs is you complaining about this meeting.

-

The letter asked for you to come completely alone. Rhys and Feyre stayed out of your mental shields, afraid that whoever it was would be able to sense their interference. The only thing keeping you from completely loneliness were the two shadows wrapped around your ankles underneath your skirt.

Two shadows was decided - if anything were to happen to you, one would report back to Azriel while the other remained with you. It was the only interference from Azriel Rhys would allow. He wanted to be standing nearby, waiting for any sign of distress from you, but Rhys wouldn’t allow it. He was all too aware of the effect you had on his brother, and he was going to keep Azriel in his sight while you went to this meeting.

You were standing in the trees, at the border between winter and autumn, right where the letter asked you to be. The border is a mixture of deep red leaves littering the ground that trail off into about a foot of snow. The cold morning air making your breath visible.

You hear movement, ready to set eyes on whoever sent the mysterious note.

“Hello, Little Fox.”

-

Azriel could not stand still. Rhysand had never seen him so visibly under duress. Azriel, who usually kept stock still and kept a stoic expression. Azriel was pacing and his hair was standing up from how much he was running his hands through it.

“Azriel, she’ll be okay. If anything happens, she can winnow to us, to Cassian, to Feyre. She’ll be okay.”

Cassian was stationed in the winter court, Feyre in the autumn court, both equidistant from you, however too far for them to know what’s happening during your meeting.

“I don’t like this. Something feels incredibly off. An ally sending a letter like that? It feels more like a love letter than some form of allyship. I think you let the high lord position cloud your judgement on this.”

“If it were a love letter, she wouldn’t have entertained it.” The high lord said, looking through the correspondence on his desk. He knows his nonchalance will annoy Azriel, hopefully allowing him some reprieve from the concern he’s feeling for you.

Azriel tuts, “you don’t know that.”

Rhys sighs, “you’re right, if she thought the love letter was from you, she would have gone, no hesitations.”

The high lord smirks, looking at the shadowsinger to gauge his reaction. He stops mid-step, “don’t say things like that if you don’t fully believe them,” then continues his pacing.

“I’ve known her for a long time, Az. In that time, she’s had many suitors come to her. She’ll always go on a first date - she says it’s because “you never know”, or whatever. Since being here and meeting you, I haven’t seen her even glance at another male vying for her attention.”

Azriel stops, looks at Rhys’s face for a long time, trying to decipher any hint of deception. His face was void of it. In fact, he looked honest and almost vulnerable.

Before Azriel could ask more, one of his shadows comes whizzing in at an incredibly fast speed, news of you, circling around Azriel’s ears to tell him what it saw as fast as it can.

“We have to go,” Azriel says, his face darkening with concern and shadows.

-

“Eris Vanserra, as I live and breathe,” you say, a smile gracing your face.

You don’t hate Eris, you actually spent some time with him while growing up. You don’t know if you particularly like Eris, however you’ve always had a soft spot for him due to the cruelties of his father.

“You seem surprised to see me,” he says, a smirk growing across his face, “I’m glad you came.”

“Why in Prythian did you send me a cryptic letter, and not just tell me who was requesting my presence?” You ask.

He steps closer to you and the tree you’re leaning against. “Because I’m sure those dogs would have thrown out any correspondence addressed from me to you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you say, letting the dog comment go for now.

“Oh? Then what about all of my previous letters?”

You stop, “previous letters?”

“I’ve been writing to you for months, my dear. I had to figure out new ways to get in contact with you.”

His grin was so feline, your interest in this meeting at an all time high. If Eris wanted an alliance with the night court, why would he go through all of this effort to reach you?

“Well, you have my attention now, Eris, what is it you desire?” You ask.

A wicked grin takes over his face, as he removes his hands from his pocket.

“You,” he says, unfurling his fist to reveal a powdery substance that he blows directly into your face.

You stumble a little and cough, confusion knitting your brows. You start to feel very heavy, and instinctively you reach out to lean against Eris as your balance starts getting more and more unsteady.

Eris is taking a few steps back, making you follow him. What you don’t realize in your confused state is he’s leading you across the border into Autumn, and once you have both feet in Autumn, he allows you to lean against him as he wraps his arms around your waist and winnows you away, except for one tiny little shadow that begins heading toward the Night Court.

-

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Azriel is raving mad, having scoured the border for hours for you. “Where the FUCK did he take her?”

His shadow told him everything, how he incapacitated you, tricked you into willingly coming into his court. The shadows even recognized the faebane he made you inhale, however there was something different about this faebane they couldn’t quite figure out.

Azriel and Rhys scoured the location, with Rhys sending word to Cassian and Feyre to come to the rendezvous point.

“Brother-“ Rhys starts, trying to get Azriel to calm down. His anger was radiating off of him and the entire area was pitch black, with his shadows moving erratically.

“Don’t you dare,” Azriel snarls, “you convinced her to come here! You said “oh it’ll be safe! Cassian and Feyre won’t be too far away!” And now she’s gone! Who knows what he wants with her!”

Feyre and Rhys exchange a glance, clearly speaking to each other internally.

“Shut the fuck up! If you’re going to speak, speak out loud for all to hear!” Azriel barks.

Cassian was seriously concerned for his brother- he had never, ever seen him snap like that at anyone, let alone his high lord and high lady.

Feyre and Rhys were just as startled.

“Azriel, we understand, Feyre was in the spring court-“

“It’s not the same, not even one bit.” He bit back, “Feyre chose to go, she didn’t. Feyre is a High Lady, she isn’t. Feyre has tons of training and is powerful enough to hold her own against high lords, she isn’t. She’s with one of the most powerful non-high lord fae in Prythian. She can’t speak to us telekinetically, she has no mating bond to even tell if she’s alive, it is not the same.”

-

It’s been days since you were taken by Eris. All the inner circle can guess is that you’re somewhere in the Autumn Court. Eris covered his tracks well by having you willingly cross the border. Unless they had proof you were in imminent danger or being held against your will, there wasn’t much they could do, but that didn’t mean they stopped trying.

They even began going through the confiscated correspondence Eris tried to start with you, but it was mostly pleasantries, asking after Lucien, and updates on the lady of the autumn court, who you were quite fond of.

Azriel was looking paler than usual due to the loss of his shadows. They were all in the Autumn court, scouring every inch for you. They do as Azriel tells them to, yes, but he’s noticed how much they seem to like you. Some of them won’t come back to him when called, opting instead to play in your hair or ghost along your hands. He sighs at the memory.

Feyre is trying again to tap into your mind, just like she and Rhys have been trying to do the entire week you’ve been gone. Azriel was losing hope. He’d keep searching, he’d never stop searching, but he was losing hope.

Lost in his spiraling thoughts of a life without you in it, he was jolted from them when he heard Feyre gasp. “She let me in,” is all she says. The room has gone deadly quiet. “I’m not sure she knows I’m here, so I’m trying to keep very still.”

-

When you woke up, you were very confused. You must have fallen asleep at some point, the blankets wrapped around your naked body. The room you’re in is gorgeous, with brown walls, an ornately decorated fireplace, and beautiful artwork covering the walls. The door to your room begins to open and you breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of him.

“Hi sweetheart,” the male tells you, “I brought you coffee.”

The smell of the coffee hits you and you reach your hands out for a desperate taste of it.

“What time is it? How late did I sleep in?” You ask, taking a sip from the coffee cup. The notes of pumpkin melting onto your tongue.

“Mid-morning,” he coos, sitting next to you on the bed.

“And why didn’t you wake me?” You ask.

“I figured you deserved all the rest you could get after last night,” he says, placing a hand on your thigh, “and to have you well-rested for today.” He smirks.

You blush, still not used to this directness from him, “don’t you have work today?”

He sighs, “yes, yes, I just figured I’d bid you good morning before I started my day. Besides, I know you’ll be busy wedding planning all day. Wanted to see my beautiful bride at least once today.”

He kisses your temple, leaving you alone in the room, buzzing just thinking about his inevitable return.

-

Feyre didn’t dare broadcast the image to the Inner Circle. At first out of fear of what she might see - if you were being tortured, she didn’t want them to see that, especially not Azriel.

The contents of what she saw were almost more horrifying.

“Eris is playing tricks on her mind. She, uh, -“ Feyre looks around the room, afraid to tell them what she saw, making eye contact with Azriel, ultimately deciding to say something to get him to leave.

“He’s coercing her into marrying him.”

Everyone sits up straighter and chaos erupts. They all start yelling and bickering, trying to figure out what to do.

Rhys commands everyone’s attention, already having spoken with Feyre about getting Azriel out of the room.

“Azriel, see if you can find out anything about an upcoming autumn court wedding. If Eris and Beron are trying to hide this, it might not be known that it’s for a member of the High Lord’s family.”

Azriel leaves, thankful for something, anything, to keep his mind off of you marrying someone else and thankful for a small lead to finding you.

Once Azriel’s gone, Feyre turns to the group. “It gets worse.” She says, looking at Rhys in nervousness.

“How the Hel can it get any worse? Our friend being forced to marry him? What is worse than that?” Cassian asks, absolutely outraged that he let you go to that meeting.

“Eris has glamoured himself, it’s how he’s convinced her to go along with the marriage.” Feyre speaks softly, looking down at the ground.

The silence hangs in the room for a moment, and just when Feyre thought the silence would settle and stay for a while, Mor speaks up, “and who exactly is he glamoured as?”

Everyone in the room knows the answer, but they wait for Feyre’s confirmation.

“He’s glamoured as Azriel. She thinks she’s safe with Azriel in the Autumn Court and that they’re getting married soon.”

[readychilledwine]

A Helping Hand

Rhysand Week Day 4 : Lord of Night

Summary - High Lord, Husband, father. Rhysand's plate is just far too full, leading the Inner Circle to take over some duties.

Warnings - workaholic Rhysand, discussions of classism, new dad Rhys, platonic bond, loose editing so forgive me if I fix things later

A/N - I am so sorry this is late! I think someone *cough baby daddy cough* accidently deleted it when he did a run through for me. But anyways, happy late day 4 and day 5 of @officialrhysandweek! It'll be a double post day 💕

✨️Rhysand Week Masterlist✨️Rhys Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

“Please just let me handle this for you,” you were firm in the request, hand still on the request of approval to renovate the Opera house in the Rainbow. “We both know this project is completely unneeded. There is no reason for you to waste your time penning the letter.”

Rhysand stared at where your hand met the paper. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, “I-”

“No. It's time for us to have a serious discussion.” You took the paper from him and then held his hands. “Rhysand, you have spread yourself far too thin. You are not sleeping well with a newborn, you are helping Feyre as she's healing, you are recovering from trauma. Let me help you by organizing the report by who should actually be handling them.”

Rhys seemed to consider your words before nodding, “I want final-”

“Rhysand, we have known each other for 500 years. Do you truly not trust me enough to make a decision based on your preferences?”

He tugged that power exchange bond between the two of you, silently asking for a bit of your energy. You offered it to him without hesitation, without even so much as thinking about your well-being over his. “I do not want the fae in this court knowing I'm not the one running the court.” You couldn't help but sigh and roll your eyes and stare at him, blinking as if to say, “Duh.” His lips twitched into a smile at you, “What are you going to do, sweetheart? Forge my signat..” His eyes went wide as he realized that was exactly what you had planned. “I expect brief rundowns first.”

“And you will have them. Now go take a nap.”

The Inner Circle gathered in the new father's office claiming reports left and right. Cassian took anything involving Illyria and the training camps. Azriel took anything involving newcomers to the City of Starlight, border related issues, and requests for visiting. Mor and Amren split Hewn City. Dividing those reports among issues relating to rumors of uprisings or requests for help and sanctuary from tortured females. It left you with things regarding the inner workings of Velaris. You were curled in your own office, writing the rejection letter for the Opera House Project. The Opera House had been a gift to Velaris after Rhysand's return home. It was barely more than a few years old and every single feature had been planned to perfection by you and Rhysand as a way to heal the odd bind that tied you two together. The wealthy fae of Velaris were asking to redo the seating. Specifically, they wanted the seats to be made larger. 

You knew this wasn't for comfort. You had fallen in love with studying the patterns of consumerism throughout Prythian history. You knew this project was aimed at accessibility. Less sears meant higher prices for shows. Higher prices meant exclusion of the middle and lower classes. Exclusion from the arts was dangerous, though. Something you, Rhysand, and Feyre stood firmly against. 

Hours seemed to pass as you finished one thing and moved to the next, realizing how far behind Rhysand had gotten. He was hardly sleeping, rotating nights with Feyre, or just forcing her to sleep while he handled nights with a newborn alone. He was being the father he never had. One who earned the title of Dad, and you knew the last thing he'd want was the fae he cared so much for to suffer because of it. 

The sunset when Cassian arrived, his work completed. “Rhys has been given the gist of everything. I am to only have to send one thing to the camp leaders,” Cassian slid a letter, one penned by himself over to you. “Rhysie is having them start to direct all issues to me first. Using your whole chain of command idea.” 

Silence. 

Cassian's words were met with silence as you swallowed hard, holding in tears of pride. “He's delegating?!”

The commander nodded, scarred lips twitching to smirk. “He is.”

You'd never faked his signature so fast, quill flying across the parchments, “This is good.”

Azriel was next with Nuala and Cerridwen in tow, “City guard is to report issues to the twins from now on,” he leaned into his chair. “If they deem it serious enough, they will handle it unless I need to get involved.”

“And if you can't handle it,” you questioned as a joke. 

Azriel scoffed before schooling his reaction to your jab, “Then, and only then, is Rhys to get involved. My part of his reports are done and sent. I didn't think anyone would have issues with me answering security related issues.” 

They'd be a fool to, is what you wanted to reply with. Azriel was not the type of male to fuck with unless you had a death wish. He was petty at times and loved to plot. 

Mor came next, throwing herself dramatically into the chair. “I hate how your Office is a dry zone,” she groaned. “I'll be visiting daddy dearest.” 

You gagged at that and the two of you launched into a gossip session. Turns out, her father had taken Rhysand's recent absence in Hewn City as an open invitation to run a few illegal trade rings. Rings Mor was all too happy to be putting an end to. 

“That summarizes what Amren and I will both be dealing with,” she yawned, perfect red nails flying to her lips. “I'm going to bed.”

10.

11. 

Midnight.

2am rolled around and your door opened again, a sleepy Rhysand carrying a sleeping Nyx. “Go to bed,” his tone was commanding but held an air of affection to you. “You're no better than me.”

You only maintained eye contact, smirking as you put his name on a document approving a community vegetable garden and greenhouse, “Yet here we are,” you whispered. “All your reports, acquisitions, and petitions done and handled.”

His face fell, eyes shutting as he nodded, “You all got me caught up?”

With a wave of your hand, all the stacks vanished to their proper locations where they would sit and wait to be opened by their receivers. “We did,” you stood as silently as possible and moved to him and Nyx, “Do you want me to go lay him down?”

Rhysand only responded by pulling you into a tight side hug, his face burying in your hair, “How can I repay you for this? You have no clue what this meant to Feyre and I.”

The hug was payment enough. Contact with your best friend making that power bond hum as you hugged him back, “No repayment is necessary, Rhys. We all need help sometimes.”

“But-”

You whispered again, interrupting him, “We all need help sometimes.”

Understand, gratefulness, and admiration filled his almost violet colored gaze, “How did I get blessed with Feyre as my mate and you as my carranam?”

“Good question,” you shot back. “Maybe it was so we could keep you humble.” You took Nyx slowly, moving to walk the little heir back to his nursery. “Or maybe it was to keep you from dying in your office. Goodnight, Rhysand.”

You could tell he wanted to sass you back, to have the last word. It had been so long since that side of him came out, and you were glad to see a day of rest brought some fire back to him. He seemed to settle with nodding, walking backwards as he watched you take Nyx, “This isn't over. Once I wake up refreshed tomorrow, it's on. Goodnight, Y/n.”

General Taglist:

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[adverbally]

Just Try to See in the Dark

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Childhood” | wc: 1,263 | rated: T | cw: references to physical (nonsexual) child abuse and neglect, including description of injuries inflicted by a parent | tags: teacher steve, steve and eddie’s shitbag dads, hurt/comfort, shoutout to all the awesome teachers out there | title from “Close to Me” by The Cure

And with this, I’m officially caught up, just in time for the halfway point of the month! I appreciate everyone who has read and interacted with my work so far. I haven’t written this much in years and it’s all because of contributions from viewers like you. Thank you 💕

———

When Steve gets home from work, almost an hour later than usual, he goes straight into their bathroom and shuts the door.

Eddie watches him go. It’s not unusual after a long day. Sometimes Steve just wants to take a hot shower and start his evening fresh. But after half an hour, the water hasn’t turned on and Eddie is starting to worry.

He hovers outside the bathroom door for several minutes, unsure if he should check on Steve. It doesn’t sound like he’s moving around, which makes a dark corner of Eddie’s mind worry that he’s hurt. What if he fell? What if he wasn’t feeling well and something is really wrong?

It’s that terrifying prospect that finally forces Eddie to rap on the door. “Stevie?”

“Come in,” comes the muffled response.

Eddie opens the door carefully so he doesn’t accidentally hit Steve, but Steve is sitting fully-clothed in the empty bathtub on the other side of the room. “Hi, sweetheart,” Eddie greets him as he comes to sit on the closed toilet lid.

Steve has his knees tucked up to his chin, arms wrapped around his shins. He turns his head sideways so he can speak more clearly. “I had to call Child Services.”

Jesus. Steve loves his class of second graders like they’re his own children. To have to report some kind of abuse to one of them… no wonder Steve went straight to the peace and quiet of the bathtub. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes are dry, but Steve still rubs at his nose with the back of his wrist. “Yeah. Samantha. She had…” He gestures vaguely at his neck. “She usually has bruises somewhere, you know, she’s seven. But today she had actual fingerprints...”

Eddie drops to his knees on the rug next to the tub and gets his arms around Steve right as he starts to shake.

“And when I asked her about it, she just said, ‘He didn’t mean to!’ Like you can accidentally choke your own kid hard enough to leave marks like that.” Steve sniffs. “But he’s her dad and she loves him.”

With that, he buries his face in his knees and lets Eddie hold him.

Steve has always struggled with this part of being a teacher, even while he was working on his degree. Eddie can still see it so clearly, Steve pacing around the tiny dining table in their first apartment, ranting about mandatory reporting.

“You know what would’ve happened to me if a teacher said anything? My dad would’ve made us all smile and pretend everything was fine, and he would’ve beat the shit out of me as soon as the investigator left!” Steve had slammed his fist on the countertop as he passed.

“But we’re supposed to report immediately once we have reason to suspect abuse. Don’t take the time to make sure the kid is safe, don’t look at the broader pattern of incidents, just…��� He had run out of breath there and couldn’t catch it for several minutes once he started crying, not out of sadness or worry but frustration.

It’s not frustration that drives Steve to tears now. It’s grief and fear for Samantha, for a younger version of himself, for the consequences of what the law requires of him.

“You’ve been looking out for her for a long time,” Eddie murmurs, chin hooked over Steve’s shoulder. The edge of the tub is digging into his side but he’ll be damned if he lets go of Steve right now. “This just confirms that your instincts were right. And hopefully now she’s gonna get help.”

“I’m scared that I just put her in a worse situation,” Steve admits, raising his head enough to wipe his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater. “She shouldn’t have to deal with all this, she’s just a kid.”

Eddie vaguely remembers something about Sammy’s mom not being in the picture. “She can’t stay with an abusive parent just because she loves him. That’s why children don’t get to make the decisions here.”

Steve shakes his head. “But when she’s stuck in a foster home because of me—”

“Nuh-uh-uh, don’t even go there.” He ducks his head to look Steve in the eye. “She’s gonna be safe because of you. She’s gonna go home from school and not have to worry about her dad hurting her anymore. That’s huge.” He knows they can both understand that.

“I wish there was something else I could do,” Steve sighs.

“Just keep being the best second grade teacher in the state. Keep paying attention and listening to the kids. That’s what they need from you.”

Steve tilts his head to rest against Eddie’s shoulder. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“It’s more than you think.” Eddie kisses his temple, runs his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I had a teacher in fifth grade, Ms. Martin. It was, like, the year after my mom died, and I wasn’t coping at all. My dad was barely around to drop off some food for me once in a while. I was a nightmare student. Stole from the other kids, slept during lessons, started fights at recess.”

“It’s hard to care about school with stuff like that going on at home,” Steve says. Even now, he’s defending Eddie against shit that happened twenty years ago.

“Luckily for me, Ms. Martin understood that, too. She knew I was smart and I liked to draw, so she would assign me little projects. Stuff like illustrating a scene from the book we were reading or drawing a diagram of the parts of a plant or whatever. She let me work in her classroom at lunch and after school. Every day, she brought me a sandwich and a snack so I didn’t have to sneak food out of someone else’s lunchbox.”

Steve sits up to look at him with the most heartbroken expression. “Ed, that’s— she sounds incredible.”

“Yeah. She might not have fixed things for me outside of the classroom, but she made being at school a thousand times more bearable. Just by giving a shit.” He grins up at Steve. “Like you.”

“You know you do that kind of stuff, too, right? Like when you donated all those old dice sets for D&D Club, and when you helped me make Valentines for the whole class so nobody would feel left out. And when you delivered the pizzas for the Halloween party. And—“

Eddie hangs his head in an imitation of bashfulness. “I’m just your humble sidekick. All of that was your idea.”

“Then thank you for helping me make school more bearable for my kids.” Steve takes Eddie’s face between his big, gentle hands and kisses his forehead before angling his head back so their lips align.

“It’s my pleasure.” Eddie pushes himself to his feet with a groan as his knees creak. “Fuck, I’m getting to old to sit on the floor.”

Steve holds both hands out to Eddie, arms fully outstretched as if asking him to pull him upright. When Eddie doesn’t move, he whines, “C’mon, my ass is asleep. At least you were on the cushy rug!”

With a put-upon sigh, Eddie heaves Steve to his feet. “Shower first or food? I made meatballs.”

“Meatballs!” Steve throws his arms around Eddie’s neck, mostly for balance as he steps out of the bathtub. “You really do love me,” he fawns, batting his lashes for effect.

“You’re okay, I guess.” Before Steve can object, Eddie darts in for a quick kiss and darts off. “Wash up, dinner’s in five!”

[jojissalsa]

Perfect body, Pretty face

Warnings: dom!Leon x fem/sub!reader, power dynamics (boss/assistant), daddy kink, mentions of nudes/sex work, taking pictures during sex, facial, condescension, slight praise, mentions of age gap (reader is in mid 20s), clothes ripping (tights), reader is bratty at some point.

hello again :3 i wanna post what i can while i have the time, so i can kinda build this page up. hope u guys enjoy this one even if i feel like i made a few mistakes and lmk where i can improve! constructive criticism, reposts and requests are always welcome :D (minors don’t interact, touch grass.)

WC: 3.3k (proofread)

When Leon first came to the D.S.O, he expected bigger missions and harder work. Not boring ass reports and paperwork. The missions were definitely longer, which meant piles atop piles of paperwork that would take longer than it should. When the D.S.O realized Leon needed more time on his reports compared to the rookies or standard agents, they gave him a hand. You, his new assistant. And god, were you helpful. You were more than a sight for sore eyes, you were distracting at first, but even more so as he got to know you. You even remembered his favorite coffee order, and what he liked most for lunch. To him, you were just doing a good job. But in reality, you just wanted to get in his pants more than anything.

Your last boss was such a douchebag, the typical mansplaining and ungratefulness. But Leon? He was such a sweetheart, and so understanding. He didn’t get annoyed when you made a tiny mistake, a couple minutes late or working slower at the end of your shift. You knew damn well your attraction to him was bad for you and this job, but Eve still ate that apple didn’t she? You were the same, always attracted to forbidden fruit. But when it was Leon, who cares about forbidden? It just adds to the flavor. Obviously being an assistant didn’t make the most money, but at least you got a pretty face to work with. And there’s no shame in a side hustle, right? That’s what you thought when you made a Twitter account when you first became an assistant, well, intern at first. The job was so damn stressful and your shitty boss didn’t help. It was harmless fun at first, posting a few lewd pictures of your cleavage or in cute two-piece bathing suits you got. And then it got even lewder, posting pictures of your bare tits, dim lighting from your computer, things like that until you said fuck it and showed all the goods. Complaining about your shitty boss became part of your brand, as well as the faceless part of your nudes. You never showed your face, only your hair if it was a full body picture, not because you were ashamed of what you were doing. Not in the slightest, actually. You were just worried about word spreading around the office, especially since you were getting fairly popular. No face, no case, right? Plus, it’s not like anyone had x-ray vision to see if you had the same tits. It’s not like it hurt business either, you had a perfect body. You weren’t the skinniest person in the world, average like most people’s bodies. But to you, it was perfect. It suited you and flaunting it made you happy.

Your brand definitely shifted when you changed bosses, less complaining about how much your job sucked to more complaining about how badly you needed your boss to look at you differently. Pictures of you up-skirt under your desk whenever he wasn't looking or left to grab you both coffee or lunch, captions that always mentioned him.

"is it bad that my boss gets me this wet?"

"wish my boss would crawl under my desk and take care of this ;p"

And they would only get more and more risky. Posts of your increasingly skimpy outfits and a courtesy picture of you out of them captioned "you guys think my boss will like? lol". A video of you cumming in the bathroom at work, another where you cheekily slipped your fingers in your cunt, rubbing your slick over your clit before giggling as you turn the recording off.

Leon really didn’t mean to find something of yours this personal, he was just a guy looking for porn where he knew he could find it. He may be old but the man still needs to get off. And he was a man of taste, he liked the amateur stuff, and he knew Twitter had it. When he stumbled across your account, he thought it was perfect. At first he didn't know it was you, but by your most recent posts, it was obvious. You never name dropped him, or even said what he looked like, only saying he was fine and looked like a dilf, which was definitely an ego boost when he figured out it was you. It was easy, really. He was bored at night, couldn’t sleep like usual, and hoped that jacking off would clear his head a bit. It didn’t clear his head in the slightest when he saw your most recent video. It was of you working overtime, fingering yourself on his desk. Biting your lip to stay quiet but failing miserably as your fingers keep rubbing against that spongy spot in your walls, palm slapping against your clit. The best part? You said his name while you came. Maybe not his full name, but the way you let it out subconsciously, saying "Mr. Kennedy" in the most pornographic way possible, realizing you did and then giggling when you felt no remorse. Only an "oh shit" and a cutesy laugh as you abruptly ended the video. He was gonna say something tomorrow. He had to.

The second you walk in the door with that polite smile you always have, cute pink blouse and short pencil skirt, he waves you over to his desk. "Y/n, come here for a sec." His stern tone makes you blush and immediately walk over after setting down your bag. "Yes, sir? Is there something you need from me?" You expect him to say he needs a file or some kind of paper, but he shocks you when he turns his monitor around to show your twitter page. "You know anything about this?" You don't show it on your face, but the way you clench your jaw makes it obvious. You've got a good poker face, he'll give you that. "No sir, am I supposed to?" You get a bit of an attitude, mainly because he just totally called you out. "I don't know, you tell me." He scrolled very little down to your last post, the video. You gulp, knowing damn well you said his name. "Is that you saying my name?" His tone is still stern, but it feels more teasing now, considering his cocky smirk. He has you in a corner. "Don't you think it's a little sleazy to be prying into my personal hobbies?" Your attitude gets more prominent, crossing your arms and giving him a sharp glare. You were more prideful than anything, his smugness starting to piss you off because of how turned on you were getting. "Don't you think it's a bit slutty to finger fuck yourself on my desk?" When he shot back at you with that you froze, face going completely red. Not only was he right, you had no room to talk about his habits, but the way he said it was so fucking hot it lit a fire in you, shockwaves shooting straight to your clit.

You felt uncomfortable under his gaze, your lips parted as you felt your pulse throbbing between your thighs, knowing your panties were soaked. "You gonna say something or just come over here already? Stop wasting my time, I have work to do." It was instant when he said that, hips swaying as you walked to him, holding your hands in front of you as you looked down at the ground. "What's got you all shy? You certainly weren't shy last night." His teasing was really getting to you, making your lips squeeze as you shift your thighs again, your chest feeling so heavy with every breath you took. "Didn't I tell you not to waste my time? Sit on my desk and spread your legs." Your breath hitches at his demanding words, hopping up on his desk and spreading your legs. You thank god that it was a little chilly today, making you wear sheer black tights. Not that you'd be wearing them long, you just hope the wet spot on your panties wasn’t noticeable. "Jesus, soaked through your fucking tights? You're that excited?" His teasing made you go wide eyed, whimpering at his smug gaze piercing through you. "Yes sir.." You finally manage to speak, even if it sounds breathless and needy. Your eyes stay steady on him, taking in every feature you can. You lick your lips from the sight of his hard cock pressed against his tight slacks, not daring to close your legs in the slightest even if you were desperate for friction. "See something you like?" You watch him palm over his hard on, just watching something that sinful makes you moan softly. "I thought you said not to waste your time? What are you waiting for?" You throw any bit of shyness out the window, brattiness taking its place instead. After all, he meddled into something private, why make it easy for him? That’s no fun~

His brows furrowed as he gives you an annoyed look, groaning in frustration as he shoots up from his office chair and grabs your waist, pulling you from his desk and flipping you to bend over. He certainly doesn't waste any time now, pulling your skirt up and ripping a massive hole in your tights, making you gasp and squirm, turning your head to try and see the damage. "Don't complain, no point in denying you like it. Why else are your panties fucking drenched?" You throw him a frustrated glare before grumbling something about those being expensive under your breath. "Sorry, what was that?" You gasp as his hand slams down harshly on your ass cheek, whining at his gentle kneading on the now stinging red spot. "You're trying so hard to be bratty, when you're usually such a sweet girl. Always coming here early, bringing me coffee, remembering my favorite lunch. You don't do that because you like this job, hell, a slut like you doesn’t care about working hard. You do it because you want my attention." His hand keeps kneading the fat of your ass, making you back up into his palm for more. That doesn't stop your attitude though. "Oh boo hoo, as if you didn't love every second of it. How'd you even find my page? The nursing home gives you internet after 10?" Your bitchy tone doesn't go unnoticed by him, and neither does your smug smirk that is clearly challenging him, if anything it lights the same fire inside him, dick twitching under his slacks. He shoots you a glare that says "you really wanna do this?", as if you care about that silly warning. What's the worst he could do? "Y'know they shouldn't give a pervy old man like you access to stuff like that, it rots your brain~" You get cut off by another slap on your ass, harder than the last one, he doesn't even bother to soothe the sting with his hand. "Pervy old man? Then what are you? Some slut thinking of her boss's cock all day. How high and mighty." Another slap, and you're already unraveling by the second, the tingling sensation from his spanks sending shock after shock to your clit.

"You go on and on about me on that damn site for thousands to see, so why not take what you want? You're getting nowhere by being an ungrateful brat." He's really starting to make sense with how desperate you are to be touched, for that release you so desperately need. And with how hard his spanking is getting, it's making your head dizzy. He presses his hard-on against your ass, making you whine and grind against him. That's not enough for him though, he needs you to say it, the same way you said his name last night. "C'mon pretty girl, get what you want and ask for it, I know you can." He grinds against your ass, finally snapping through the sane part of your brain. "Fuck! Fine, please, please give it to me, I can't wait anymore, please Mr. Kennedy.." You beg in a gravelly voice, nails digging into his desk as the neediness in you builds. "Need what? You can say it." He slaps your ass again, a little gentler now that you're finally getting there, sliding his hand down to press his thumb on the gusset on your panties, hissing at how wet it felt. "Your cock, Leon, please, I need your cock so bad.." You whimper in broken fragments from your voice breaking, sighing in relief as he finally pulls down your panties, feeling your slick connect to them in strings and the cool air contrasting how hot you feel. As you heard the sound of metal clinking and a zipper pulled down you wished he flipped you over, because you really wanted to see his cock, turning your head in a desperate attempt to steal a quick glance. "Don't worry baby, you'll get a good look later." You don't care enough to question him, you care more about his tip pressed against your folds, threatening to stretch you open.

The coil of anticipation that's released when he finally slides inside you is the most euphoric feeling, growling as he fills you completely, balls nestled right against your clit. "Fuck, barely had to do anything and it slipped in so easy. Like you were made to take this cock, huh, sweetheart?" He goes slow at first, letting you adjust to his thick size, agonizing in how slow he drags his cock along your walls. All you can mutter is 'yes' like a mantra to keep you in reality, but every stroke is sending you further into that cloudy part of your brain where all you can think about is how you can feel everything. His hands on your hips to keep you in place, the way his cock kisses right against your cervix then pulls all the way out just to make you drunk off the feeling, his low and heavy grunts dangerously close to your ear, and it's all getting you even more impatient and needy. "Leon, please, go faster, need it faster." You speak through broken sobs and high pitched whines, looking back at him with a pleading pout. You can't say no to this cute face, can you? His nails dig into your hips, finally fucking you faster, and so much harder, you can feel the air in your lungs get choked out with every harsh thrust. "Just can't help yourself, can you? So fucking impatient." He can hear you getting louder, and between you and the sound of skin slapping against wet skin, he can at least silence one. "So loud, the whole fucking office can probably hear you." He puts his hand over your mouth and pulls your head up, body arching backwards as your head meets his shoulder. You can barely make out his smug grin as he looks down at you, glossy eyes with blown out pupils, your cheeks flushed a deep red.

"You look so pretty like this, looking up at me without a thought in that pretty little head. Just needed Daddy to fuck you stupid, huh?" He gets a wicked chuckle at your wide eyes, the way you clench tighter and move your hips to meet his rhythm. You curse yourself mentally for tweeting about that godforsaken daddy kink you have, or any of your kinks because now he knows every little thing that makes you tick. How frustrating. "Ohhh, didn't think I would look that far? You have no idea, spent hours looking at your stuff, even during missions I couldn't help but think about this sweet pussy wrapped around my cock." Your expression goes blank at his words, completely cockdrunk. You know you shouldn't do any of this, you can only imagine how much trouble you’d be in if someone walked in right now. But who could blame you? You couldn't name a single person who would throw away an opportunity like this. Who needs responsibility when you could have the simple yet intense pleasure that Leon Kennedy brings?

"Almost went crazy when I heard my name in that dirty fucking mouth, never been that hard in my life. Gonna make sure that mouth is full of my name every chance I get." You scream and whimper, the sound rumbling against his hand as you get closer and closer, toes curling into your heels. The sight is so damn beautiful to him, and he just has to see what you look like when you cum in person. When you cum on his cock, not some silly toy that could never satisfy you the way he can. His free hand takes its time sliding up your blouse to palm your tits over your bra, his fingers raking over the soft skin of your stomach before stilling at your bunched up skirt around your waist, right above your clit. "You wanna cum, don't you, baby? You're gonna be good and ask nicely, yeah? Go ahead, tell Daddy you wanna cum." He moves his hand away from your mouth but keeps your head up, gripping your face instead, watching as you greedily suck in air between mindless moans. "Please Daddy, please, please, please let me cum, need to cum so fucking bad-" Your pathetic babbling cuts off when his fingers put pressure on your clit, rubbing fast circles that make your brows frown as your walls clench, the knot in your stomach slowly coming undone. "There you go, such a good girl, asking me so nicely. Cum for me, sweet girl, cum on my cock for me." And you do, harder than you have in a while, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you see white spots, those sweet, broken sobs leaving your lips involuntarily, moaning his name as he slows down.

Before you know it, you're on your knees in front of him, finally getting a full, up close and personal view of his fat cock. He's thick, pre-cum pearling at his tip as he uses your slick to finish himself off, fisting his cock feverishly. "Told you you'd get a better look, now open up sweetheart. Gonna cover that pretty face in my cum, maybe even take a picture for those depraved little boys that get off on you." He’s one to talk.. His grunts and soft whimpers between his words make you bite back an eager grin, lolling your tongue out and getting blessed with the salty taste on his tip. You keep your lips pursed on his cock, looking up at him with doe eyes that make his cock kick in his hand, your own hands resting on his thighs. He pulls some hair away from your face with his free hand and keeps it there as he finally coats your cheeks and tongue with pools of cum, chuckling through breathless moans as he slaps his cock on your tongue. He grabs his phone as his free hand leaves your hair to press his thumb on your tongue, keeping your mouth open. He groans with a smug smirk as you look up into the camera, a clear, empty head as drool dribbles down your chin and onto his fingers holding your chin. "You'll get this picture tonight when I drive you home, 'kay?" He helps you back to your feet, cleaning off your face with his handkerchief and pulling your skirt down, fixing your wrinkled blouse. “Now go finish those reports for me, try not to work too slow, don’t wanna work overtime, do you?” He softly strokes your back, coaxing you closer to your desk. "Yes, Mr. Kennedy.." You breathe out, still wobbly on your feet as you walk to your desk, feeling the sting on your ass as you sit down, shivering at the tingle. Worth it.

[piningforstan]

Memories

Part One | Part Two

Summary: You’re relieved to see your husband alive, but you have yet to learn at what cost.

Pairings: Stan Pines x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: memory loss, it’s a bittersweet fic (let me know if there’s anything else)

A/N: I could honestly stay in this story forever. I hope you enjoy! (If you don’t think the small attempts bits of humor are funny, just do me a favor and pretend like they are)

Life moved on, of course, even though it felt like yours had ended. The town needed rebuilding. Newspapers and media outlets needed to be dealt with — Ford recommended telling reporters that there had been a series of animal attacks. But most townsfolk just wanted to forget. The lasting effects of the memory gun meant they preferred to just pretend like nothing happened.

You busied yourself however you could, clearing fallen brush and trees, reuniting families, making do with whatever food you could find and cooking for anyone who hungered.

And when you weren’t focused on resurrecting the infrastructure of Gravity Falls, you focused on doing it for your family. Dipper had withdrawn inside himself. Mabel practically resided in Sweater Town. And Ford largely made himself scarce as he puzzled out ideas for getting Stan’s memory back. So you invited Dipper to join you for nonsensical errands and you laughed your way through Mabel’s favorite movies and you always made sure that Ford had something to eat.

You had time for everyone, it seemed, but Stan.

He floated along the edges of your day to day life, suspended in a state of limbo — wanting to participate but not knowing whether his presence would be tolerable or not. And you didn’t want to provoke his already weakened mental state so you let him be, an observer to a family that he had been the nucleus of.

“Oh, uh, mornin’.”

You were sitting at the kitchen table, staring at nothing in particular when Stan shuffled in, donned in his boxers and wife beater. It ached to see him how you had so many other mornings. Perhaps that’s why you avoided him; to do so was easier than confronting this pain.

“Stan. Good morning.” You sat up a little straighter. “Coffee is made already.”

He grumbled his thanks. You noticed that he grabbed his favorite mug, one Soos bought him that stated WORLD’S GREATEST FARTER, without thinking. There were small, fleeting moments like this that made you believe that he might regain his memory. But they often slipped away, just like Stan clearing his throat and saying, “So, uh, we’re married?”

“Yes,” you said, inhaling sharply. “Thirty years.”

Stan wrapped one large hand around the mug. He let out a whistle as he reclined back on the counter. “No offense sweetheart, but that doesn’t speak highly of your intelligence.”

You can’t help it. You croaked out a laugh. “No, no it doesn’t.”

“How’d I do it?”

“Do what?”

“Keep ya around for thirty years.” He gestured in your general direction, veritably flustered. “I don’t need to ‘member much about myself to know you’re too good for me.”

“Well, you could be very convincing,” you supplied after a moment of consideration.

Stan scoffed. “Bullshit. What’s the real reason?”

You eyed him, then said in a resigned voice, “A wife can’t testify in court against her husband.”

A beat of silence ensued, followed by the loudest belly laugh of anyone you’ve ever known. Stan clutched at his chest, coffee spilling over his mug and onto the floor. He all but wheezed out, “I knew it!“

“It was my idea, actually,” you said, smiling fondly at the memory, “we had only gone out a few times when it happened. You wanted to make a run for it. Even though we hadn’t known each other long I already knew that I didn’t want to go a day without you. So we got hitched at the courthouse and the case was dismissed on account that I was the only eye witness.”

You were surprised to discover that relaying the story brought you more comfort than sadness. It fanned the dying ember of hope inside you.

Stan processed this information. “What was the crime? Must’ve been bad.”

“If I told you ‘stealing my heart’ would you believe me?”

“I’d believe you’re a shitty liar.”

Stan pestered you for an answer but you staunchly refused to give it to him, if only to prolong the conversation even more. Eventually you lapsed into a comfortable silence, but after thirty years of marriage, you knew that Stan hadn’t given up, rather reconsidered his angle. It wouldn’t be the end of that conversation.

Only the dredges of your coffee remained but you sipped it every now and then, taking the time to study Stan when you didn’t think he noticed.

Did he realize that he remembered more than he thought? Like the mug, for instance. The way he stood. How he moved around the kitchen. How much did the memory gun erase? You read once that memories consisted of just the last time you remembered something — a great portion of your life would pass without recollection. But the feelings stayed the same. You might not remember specific moments of your mother being kind to you, but when you looked at her your chest swelled with affection for her.

Was that how Stan felt now? Wading through residual feelings and sentiments without the memories to attach them to?

“Listen, uh.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “I know this is weird ‘tween us. But I-I hope we can be friends. Still. If you want.”

Hopefully your expression did not betray the stab of pain in your heart. “I’d like that.”

Apparently, rebuilding your friendship with your husband meant him “Stan-napping” you.

“If it’s Stan-napping wouldn’t that mean you’re the one being —”

He flapped his hand. “Shhh, shhh, shhh.”

You grinned and slid into the front seat of El Diablo like normal. Gum wrappers scattered the ground at your feet, along with a lighter and several cassette tapes. You inserted one, faint rock music playing from the radio. A laugh escaped you. “Remember when —”

You stopped. Stan smiled sadly.

“It’s a’right. Promise. Tell me anyway.”

And so you did, retelling the story as best as you could in detail. Stan listened intently as he drove, interjecting his own comments and questions, laughing at all of the parts you knew he would. The tape had played on repeat during a week that you spent running a con in Arizona. An unsuccessful one at that.

“You really did all that w’me? Now I really don’t trust the likes of ya.” Stan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the door with his elbow out the side.

“In my defense, I was always more of a reluctant volunteer.” You focused on the trees flying past, silhouetting Stan’s handsome features and his easy smile. “But I would follow you anywhere.”

It’s an embarrassing admission.

You stumbled over your words, but Stan was quick to cover for you. “So I didn’t need to Stan-nap you?”

“No, but I’m still glad you did.”

“And to think, all of the work I put into it.” Stan feigned clutching his chest in indignation.

You snickered. “By all of the work do you mean withholding caffeine from me until I agreed? That was more of a hindrance than anything. I would’ve said yes much faster with coffee.”

“Noted. Anything else I should know?”

“I can also be persuaded with chocolate.”

Stan mock-glared at you. Whenever he spoke, he used his hands in big gestures, emphasizing whatever point he was making. “Wait, wait, wait. Chocolate? What happened to followin’ me anywhere?”

“I’m just saying it helps,” you told him.

For the duration of the ride you regaled him with whatever tale that came to mind. Eventually the trees thinned out and the lake came into view, water shimmering. An outcropping of cliffs hugged one side of the lake, extending an almost natural awning over the small hut Stan parked in front of. Picnic tables dotted the sparsely grassy area and families darted in and out from between them, children laughing with sticky faces and parents chasing after them waving napkins.

“Ice cream?” You climbed out of the car, the door swinging shut behind you.

Stan watched the children with soft fondness, making faces at them as they passed. Together you walked down the worn path to the counter manned by a pimpled teenager.

“Ford said I should do things I used to like to try and jog my memory,” Stan said. He peered at the menu — 107 flavors! it boasted — instead of meeting your curious gaze. “He, uh, told me we used to come here.”

“We did.” Your throat felt thick.

He had kissed you for the first time on that picnic table over there, when dusk had settled and fireflies lit up the night around you. You had been sitting on the table with Stan slotted between your legs. His mouth was cold from the ice cream but soft and sweet tasting, dancing across your tongue. You never cared for mint before that day.

When it was your turn to order, Stan persisted that you deserved a senior discount. The teenager caved, leading you to roll your eyes as Stan put his change in the tip jar only to draw out more than he put in. He took the first taste of his mint, double-scooped cone and winked at you.

“You’re insufferable,” you said with a laugh.

“He made it too easy,” Stan replied. “Sucker.”

You sat down at one of the empty tables. No one approached you but they cast glances in your direction, undoubtedly interested in the hero of Gravity Falls. If Stan noticed he didn’t say, challenging you instead to an ice cream eating contest until one of succumbed to brain freeze.

Stan had a voracious appetite, as did you, and you won out in the end. Stan, as a result, had to jump into the lake with his clothes on.

“Wait, before you go.” You couldn’t hide your amusement as you leaned up on your tiptoes and wiped ice cream from the corner of Stan’s mouth. Your thumb lingered. Recognition flashed in Stan’s eyes, then disappeared as soon as it appeared. Had you imagined it? “Um, there.”

“Thanks, kid.”

A moment passed between you, the span of a few heartbeats, before Stan braced himself. He yelled, “TELL MY STORY!” before racing off towards the shoreline of the lake. You doubled over with laughter as his youthful sprint soon turned into a hobble, the wind carrying Stan’s curses back to you. He collapsed on the sand mere inches from the lake.

Concern worried the edges of your mind. You called out to him, “Stan? Stan!”

No response.

You smiled sheepishly at the townsfolk observing the whole situation, then trotted after Stan. Upon inspection he was still breathing, one hand draped on his chest. The sand crunched underfoot as you stood over him. “Did you die?”

“Maybe.” He cracked open an eye. “Does that make you an angel?”

Your worry vanished. Staring up at the sky, you searched the clouds for an answer about why you still put up with this old man. “No use flattering me. This doesn’t hold up your end of the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Gimme a hand, would ya?”

You reached down for his hand, but instead of meeting yours it clasped around your wrist, pulling you down on top of him. You cried out in surprise. The water lapped at the pebbled beach, soaking through your clothes as Stan caged you with his body and rolled you both into it.

You shrieked in protest. Entrapped in his arms, he hauled you out into knee-deep water. It was no use trying to fight against him, though you gave your best effort. He could’ve held you like that all day and you knew that when you twisted to face him, it was only because he let you.

Somehow you winded up with your hands on his chest, his shirt plastered to his skin and revealing a glimpse of the body beneath. The moment reminded you of how young Stan made you feel, still blushing over him. He never treated you as if you were old or frail and you might as well have been in your late twenties again, when you first met, not a crease or wrinkle in sight.

Stan cleared his throat and the spell broke.

You removed your hands and stepped back, already missing the warmth of his proximity. In an attempt to ease the tension, you quipped, “I won’t forget this, Stanley Pines.”

Stan’s mouth twitched into a smile, eyes soft. “Neither will I.”

Stan assured you that evening that the outing had roused a memory, but you knew that he just wanted to console you. It didn’t matter. You were determined to recreate as many memories as possible, some alone, others including Dipper and Mabel. Great fun was had by all but you could tell, sneaking glances at Stan whenever he looked away, that it wasn’t registering.

Dipper and Mabel’s last days in Gravity Falls were swiftly approaching. It was a general consensus in the Pines household to pretend that this was not happening.

“You know, you could go with them.”

Admittedly, while watching Stan entertain Dipper and Mabel with an outlandish story, you forgot Ford was sitting beside you. The sinking sun created an orange glow over everything, glinting in Ford’s glasses as he waited for your answer.

“Who?” You asked, distracted.

“The kids.” Ford made a flippant gesture towards them. “Back to Piedmont.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t given any thought about it. It was, after all, never your plan to leave Gravity Falls. Was Ford trying to get rid of you?

Ford continued, “Just…I see the way you look at Stan. I know it hurts that he doesn’t remember.”

“It does.” You grew a sudden interest in the fray of your jeans. For the kids you put on a brave face, recreating memories with enthusiasm, but in truth, each one that failed was a stake through your confidence in Stan's memory.

“My theory might be incorrect. Or just an outlier in Stan’s case,” Ford added with afterthought, never the one to admit failure. Unlike you. “It doesn’t seem he will ever recover his memories.”

“We can’t give up, though,” you said, voice wavering with emotion.

Ford’s jaw feathered. So much of him reflected Stan down to the last detail, but with an air of superiority that Stan lacked. “Stan told you about Stan-o-War.”

A statement. Not a question.

“Yes.” Irritation raised under your skin like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

“I want to take him out. On a boat. Explore the world like we promised each other.”

“What boat?”

“I have one,” Ford vaguely promised.

“What about The Shack?”

“We can leave it to Soos. Assuming that you go with the twins.”

“Why would I do that?”

A lull happened in the conversation as Dipper and Mabel exploded in uproarious laughter at something Stan said. You suspected Ford was gathering his words. “I’m afraid that if we carry on as we have, the stress on Stan’s mind will break it completely. We need to face the music.”

“I’m not giving up on him,” you gritted back.

Ford heaved a sigh. “I’m not suggesting that you do. I don’t think you ever would. But we have to do what’s best for Stan.” He put his hands on his knees and pushed up, his shadow falling over you as he stood. “Just think about it.”

And think about it you did. A lot.

You still hadn’t come to a decision a week before the twins left. Ford informed you that he planned to surprise Stan after they left, leaving you with the decision of staying with Soos or going with Dipper and Mabel. Could you just…up and leave?

Reportedly, their parents were looking for help; from what you understood, a divorce lingered on the horizon. It brought comfort to you to think about caring for them during a tumultuous time. Not to mention you couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing them every day — but to gain it at the risk of losing Stan?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Stan strode into the room, dapper in his Mister Mystery suit. Your cheeks heated. Too many times you had been caught this week lost in your thoughts. “Oh, I —”

“No, seriously. I need a penny.”

You opened the register. He proceeded to take said coin and spin some elaborate tale to a group of tourists about how it had been crafted from a rare alien metal. Stan sold it for “only ten dollars” after pretending to meditate on the offer, chuckling as the unsuspecting tourist walked away.

He tapped the money into his sleeve. “Okay, but really, what’s eatin’ at ya?”

“I’m just sad about the kids leaving,” you told him after a pause, which wasn’t a complete lie. Unable to bear the flicker of sadness across his face, you panicked, racking your brain for something else. “We should…throw a going away party for them.”

A party? That was the last thing you needed to concern yourself with. But Stan had already latched onto the idea.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea. We could promote the Shack, invite their friends, exorbitantly mark-up entry tickets.”

Stan listed each idea on his fingers. Although you regretted suggesting it, it filled you with warmth to see him invigorated by the notion of a party. You couldn’t steal that away from him now.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to you that Stan was an expert party planner considering he was the life of one wherever he went. He got to work assigning roles and soon after you were hiring a caterer (Greasy Sue’s), a DJ (Soos, who insisted you call him despite being in the same room), and security (the man you only knew as “the one with the tattoos”).

The more you inquired, the more people wanted to participate. It opened your eyes to how much the Pines family impacted the town over the last few months. It was heartening, to say the least.

And by the time the party started, everyone in Gravity Falls was either attending it or volunteering at it. Everywhere you looked there was someone you knew, someone there to celebrate the people you loved most.

“You think they were surprised?” Stan’s booming voice floated over the music.

Strobe lights flashed overhead, casting him in an array of colors as he parted the crowd to your side. Dressed in dark slacks and a deep v-necked shirt, gold chain nestled in a patch of chest hair, Stan cut a perfect image of himself in the ‘70s. And although the outfit invoked memories of a younger man, you found this older one much more preferable.

“Definitely,” you replied.

Stan leaned down. “What?”

“I said definitely!” The music blared, pulsing through the whole building like a living thing. It didn’t help that Mabel and her friends had acquired full access to the speakers that Wendy’s dad lugged in earlier.

“What?” Stan wrapped one hand around your waist and pulled you in, putting your mouth dangerously close to his ear.

Heat flooded you. You yelled, “Let’s go outside!”

“Lead the way!”

To your pleasure and mortification, Stan removed his hand from your waist just enough to rest on your lower back, steering you through the crowd of partygoers. The cool night air was a balm to your heated skin as you stepped onto the porch.

Stan strayed from you long enough to shoo away two people kissing passionately on the couch — Blurbs and Durland— before patting the spot next to him for you to sit down.

“Are we old or is that music too loud?” Stan asked. He fished a cigar from his pocket and lit it.

You were entranced by the smoke curling from the end, the fixture of the cigar resting against his bottom lip. You swallowed and uncrossed your legs, then recrossed them.

“All that matters is that the party is a success,” you said.

Stan chuckled. “Heh, it is, isn’t it? Little twerps didn’t know what hit ’em.”

A small eternity passed in which you hunted desperately for something else to say. Stretched out above you on an inky canvas, the stars shone, rendering you small and insignificant. You stared up at them as exhaustion claimed you. You were so tired of thinking, of inventing conversation, so you said the one thing you knew to be irrefutable.

“You’re a good man, Stanley.”

He guffawed. “Don’t let anyone hear ya say that.”

“It’s true.” Since that day at the lake you had been careful not to touch him, but now you put your hand on his knee. “You’re a good man. What happened doesn’t change that. Your memories do not amount to your character.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, and you could tell he was fighting a swell of emotion. “I wish I could do better. Everyone has these…expectations of me. I dunno how to live up to them. I want to be that person.”

“You are that person, without even thinking about it. You’re still passionate about your family. And you’re clever and brave.”

“I’m, uh, not complain’ or nothin’ but I can see the disappointment in your eyes. And-And not just you. Everyone.” He took a drag from the cigar, chest expanding with an inhaled breath. Stan blew the smoke out slowly. “I’m a stranger in my own life, ya know?”

Ford’s words, his expression grim, emerged: We have to do what’s best for Stan.

Tears sprang to your eyes but you willed them away, swallowing until your throat no longer felt quite as thick. It wasn’t fair to push Stan to be someone he couldn’t remember by clinging to a past that only you knew.

Maybe Ford was right.

Maybe the best thing for Stan was to shed the weight of these expectations and carve out a new existence for himself. He would be thrilled to explore the world with his brother — who might as well have just been introduced to him considering the time they spent apart.

There was no room for you in this new life. You knew he could never look at you without thinking about his shortcomings, even if they existed only in his mind. You were standing on one side of a chasm, yelling at him; Stan on the other side, but he was too far away to hear you.

“Well that got depressing.” Stan stubbed out the cigar, ash crumbling. He stood and held his hand out to you, eerily reminiscent of how Ford had last week. “C’mon, dance w’me.”

He looked nervous to ask you this, which dumbfounded you — you would do whatever he asked. The quiet observation made you smile.

You took his hand and allowed him to pull you back inside, a sense of bittersweet finality settling over you as you did.

The party prevailed. People were drunk on the cheap beer and good company, cheeks reddened, smiles wide. When Soos played a string of throwback songs, Stan animatedly swung you around the dance floor, surprisingly graceful for his age and size. Every touch and graze seared through you, and Stan’s gaze lingered on you in a way that heated your core and stole your breath, his dark eyes glinting with customary mirth.

A particularly enthusiastic move spun you nearly into the beverage table. You stumbled but Stan was upon you in a moment, catching you and steadying you with his hands on your waist.

“You okay?” He inspected you from head to toe, then chuckled. “Heh. Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

One moment you were like that — brimming with happiness, entangled, chests pressed together — and the next Stan had pinned you to the wall, the darkened corner lending plenty of privacy to his wandering touch and fervent kisses. You kissed him back with similar urgency.

There was no part of him that you hadn’t mapped at one point or another, though it felt jarringly now like new territory, the same broad shoulders and thick arms but somehow different.

And you wanted to explore all of it.

With your teeth you tugged at his bottom lip, teasing open his mouth in order to get a better taste. Stan, pliant and obedient under your lead, sighed in pleasure. Nothing you did sated the need inside you to consume him, devour all that he offered so that you could never miss it again.

Stan had just moved his hand from your ass down along the curve of your lower thigh to lift your leg up around his waist — hardly an appropriate position for a Grauntie, you thought vaguely— when you were interrupted with unmistakable cheering. “Get ’em! Get ’em!”

Stan ensured to cover your body with his own as he whirled on Tyler in a move of unexpected gentlemanliness. The next words out of his mouth? Not so much.

Stan rasped, “I swear to God if you don’t get outta my sight right now I’m gonna rip out your eyes and sew them on whatever horrible affront to nature I have in my shop. Now scram.”

Tyler paused. He breathed out a small, “Get ’em” then turned tail and fled.

You covered your mouth to stifle your laugh.

“Pervert,” Stan grumbled.

“Can you blame him?”

“Nah. I’d watch us, too.” Stan grinned then, renewed in his delight. He gestured with his chin towards the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The music, muffled by distance, sounded like an erratic heartbeat from the living room chair where Stan pulled you on top of him. You both laughed as your knees protested against the maneuver, Stan carefully guiding your legs to rest on either side of him. He kissed you at once. It was as if there had been no interruption from before, his hands in your hair and your fingers clumsily working the buttons of his shirt.

Stan shifted to accommodate the subsequent unbuckling of his gaudy belt, taking the opportunity to also unburden you from your top. Your entire being seemed to warm as he admired this new development, gaze drifting lazily, drinking in his fill. Stan always made you feel desirable. Even after your skin freckled and your breasts no longer held their perkiness.

Smiling with the ease of a contented man, Stan reached out and brushed a thumb under your collar. “How’d ya get this?”

You froze. You didn’t have to look to know what he was talking about — a tiny, heart-shaped scar.

The obvious shift in attitude made him recoil. His features spasmed with regret.

“I should know that, shouldn’t I?”

Your chest tightened. You whispered, “Yes.”

“Damnit.” He breathed your name. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known better than to say anything —”

The rest of his apology fell on deaf ears. You awkwardly climbed off his lap and collected your shirt. The shag carpet nearly swallowed your bare feet, having kicked off your shoes sometime after crossing the threshold into the house. Stan sat motionless, watching you. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you quietly said.

Stan’s fingers flexed, an effort not to reach out to you again. “I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“It…it’s okay.” You felt, somehow, as if you were both shrinking and expanding. The words you managed to eke out next sounded hollow. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t a good idea.” For the second time that night, tears burned your eyes. Stan, upon noticing, leapt out of the chair but you stepped out of his reach, wrapping your arms around you.

Stan deflated. Actually deflated, shoulders curving into his usual rounded posture. “What’s going on? Listen, I shouldn’t have said —”

“It’s not that,” you interrupted.

But wasn’t?

Not exclusively, you corrected. It was a whole jumbled, tangled mess of things. We need to do what’s best for Stan.

You couldn’t do this to him. To yourself. Couldn’t cycle through these moments of normality that inevitably tainted themselves. Like oil in water, you couldn’t separate one from the other. You had been delusional to think that you could defy that basic logic.

You would do anything for love, wouldn’t you?

Didn’t that include letting it go?

“I can’t do this, Stanley,” you told him. You were floating above yourself, presiding over the conversation in incorporeal form. “I-I can’t move out of the past. And I want to move forward, I do. But it’s impossible, and I can’t have both. I can’t.”

Tears flowed steadily down your face now.

Stan moved to console you but must’ve thought better of it. “What are you saying?”

“I’m going to go to Piedmont. With the twins.”

“What? What about us?”

“There is no us anymore, Stan.”

His throat bobbed uncertainly. “I know that it’s not like before but I…I’ve really enjoyed our time together. We could make this work.”

You shook your head. Sobs racked you, great shuddering, choking cries.

Stan stepped tentatively forward. “I dunno what to say.” His mouth worked as he searched for his next words. “We’ve made so many new memories together. Ain’t that enough?”

Was this really happening? You couldn't believe that it had come to this, all of those years. You didn't have any words for the emotions wholly encompassing you. 

“Look, kid, I —” Stan’s brows twisted up in grief, in regret and confusion, “— I wish you would stay. I think I’m fallin’ in love with you again.”

The pleading tone of his voice proved exactly why you needed to leave. Realistically you could never have him this way, and you would only hurt him because of it. Stan deserved more than a constant reminder of the consequences of his heroic deed.

You turned from him. “I’m sorry, Stan.”

Your name from his mouth sounded like the prayer of a man desperate for salvation. “No. Please. Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

Heart heavier than it had ever been before, vision blurred, that’s exactly what you did.

As anticipated, the next day brought an onslaught of tears and goodbyes. You traipsed the halls of the Mystery Shack alone, ghosting your fingers over the chipped paneling and peeling paint. You were married to the old house as much as you were to Stan. Deep down you knew that you would return, but it didn’t make the goodbye any less difficult.

You avoided Stan at every possible turn. Only when you all piled into the car with your luggage did you force yourself to acknowledge him, fatigue creasing his face. You wanted nothing more than to comfort him. But this would be good for him — no more sorrow, no more pain. After the bus departed, Ford would surprise him with the boat and he would start a new life.

The walk from El Diablo to the bus station seemed to stretch on forever. You held Mabel’s hand while Dipper pushed ahead, feigning bravery, though last night you heard him crying softly in his room. So much had transpired over the summer, and now the days of adventure and laughter were over.

“I made these for you,” Mabel said. She handed Stan and Ford a pink sweater each, the former putting it on immediately and glaring at his brother to do the same. “I’m gonna miss my Grunkles.”

Ford smiled wistfully. “We’ll miss you too, kiddo.”

“C’mere, sweetie.” Stan brought Mabel in for a hug. It didn’t elude you that he used the endearment he chose before the memory wipe.

You felt as if your chest might burst from all of your suppressed, cresting emotions. Dipper bid his goodbyes next. The bus rumbled to the station then, kicking up dust, and the four of you fell into a tightened embrace.

You pulled away last. Stan regarded you with large, reproachful eyes as you kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, Stanley. We’ll see each other again.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” He looked jarred by the interaction, a faint blush burning his cheeks.

Ford dipped his chin in your direction, a silent acknowledgment between you. Your lower lip trembled. But, as you turned to Dipper and Mabel, you summoned your most convincing smile and led them to the bus. Stan and Ford ensured that the driver allowed Waddles on the bus, who squealed his delight at entry. The duo, Stan outfitted in his brass knuckles and Ford with his gun, watched over your departure like two handsome, vengeful guardian angels.

Your bus seat creaked as you settled down into it, Dipper and Mabel on either side of you.

“To Piedmont,” you said.

“To Piedmont,” Dipper echoed. His grim smile had you reaching out to hug him again.

Mabel sadly waved Waddles’ hoof out the window. You couldn’t bear to look out it, staring straight ahead until the bus gained traction on the gravel road and the bus station — and your heart, your home — shrank in the distance.

For a long time the only sound was the bus chugging along and the only other rider, a snoring old man. You weren’t sure what the twins were thinking. Perhaps they were recounting their many adventures just as you were, Stan starring in most of yours.

No. No Stan. You needed to be brave.

You tried valiantly to raise morale. “We had so many great memories this summer. Fishing, swimming, being with Wendy and Soos and —”

“Grunkle Stan!”

You nodded somberly, adding, “And Grunkle Stan.”

“No! Look!” Mabel clambered in the seat, stabbing her finger at the window. Both you and Dipper righted in order to peer around her sweatered form. Sure enough, there was Stan, running to keep up with the bus and waving his hands.

“Wait! Stop!” He yelled, panting. “Stop the bus!”

“We have to stop the bus. He wants to tell us something,” Mabel said, eyes wide with urgency.

You eyed Stan, stumbling over rocks and roots, knowing that he wouldn’t last much longer. You signaled for the bus driver to stop; after the Waddles incident, he was only too willing to obey. The bus sputtered to a halt and the three of you piled off, Mabel and Dipper darting out in front to meet Stan’s breathless approach.

“Stan, what are you doing?” You shielded your face, blinking into the sun.

Stan doubled over, hands on his knees. He signaled that he needed a minute. You stood, smiling sheepishly at the bus driver, who looked less than impressed to be waiting. You started, “Stan —”

“I remember!” His face absolutely beamed. “I remember. I remember it all.” Stan grabbed Mabel’s shoulders. “You eat glitter when you think no one is looking. You told me once that you invented invisible ice cream but couldn’t find it when it fell on the floor.”

It was Dipper’s turn next for this onslaught of information, brimming out of Stan like an overflowing sink. “You! At the beginning of the summer you thought Mabel’s pet rock was an alien tryin’ to blend in. You were freakin’ out because it kept movin’.” Stan burst into laughter. “But it was just ME!”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel and Dipper leapt to embrace him. He hugged them tighter than you had ever seen before.

He remembered? He remembered?

“Don’t think I forgot about ya.” Stan released the twins, crossing the space between you in only two strides. “I’m sorry, doll, ‘bout everythin’.” His large hands cupped either side of your face, gaze roaming over you with renewed wonder. “Everything is so clear now.”

Your lip wobbled. “You remember?”

“Yes I remember you beautiful, crazy woman!” Stan laughed and suddenly he was wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you off your feet, spinning you in a circle. “I remember! I remember!”

You put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. “Stan! Stan! Are you sure?” You couldn’t let yourself hope again if it wasn’t true, fluttering in your chest like a trapped bird.

He set you down again, grinning like a child. “Like hell I’m sure. When…When Bill went in my mind, I ‘member thinkin’ that I could never lose you. None of you. I suppose I was s’scared of it that I repressed it deep enough to protect the memories. Then when you got on that bus, when I thought I lost you for real, it all came rushing back.”

“Really?” Tears strained your voice.

“Really.” Stan’s features softened. “I understand now why you fought so hard to get these memories back.”

A sound of strangled, delirious joy burst from you and you threw yourself against him, arms encircling around his neck. Stan’s mouth hovered near your ear, lips brushing the outer shell of it. “I love ya, doll. Even-Even when I didn’t remember why, I loved ya.”

“I love you, too,” you sighed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. “I can’t believe this.”

“Well, believe it.” Stan retracted enough to study you, curious and awed all in one. “You can’t get rid o’me that easily.”

“I-I really thought…” you shook your head, unable to get the words out. You just held him tighter.

“I know. I know, doll.”

You didn’t need to speak to understand each other, to know what the other one was thinking. When he held you now, he held you with thirty years of memories, a bind stronger than even the ring on your finger.

Mabel broke the embrace, tugging on Stan’s shirt. “What happens now?”

In the distance, Dipper and Ford were chasing Waddles. Stan observed this, then took a long look at you before turning to his niece. He waved off the bus driver, saying, “You ever been on a boat before, kid?”

A/N 2.0: In my head, they all get to go on their adventures together and reader homeschools Dipper and Mabel and they’re a big, happy family.

There’s little nods to the Swooning Over Stans dating game by @gfdatingsim and By Steps and Inches by @funkingrunkles . Memories is kind of my love letter to both stories that I enjoyed so much. (So if you read this, thank you💕)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

study sesh

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex

“rafey, i don’t know how you expect to help me study considering you’ve never even taken an anthropology class before.” you say into your cell phone.

“i can help you concentrate! keep you focused, bring you snacks, hand feed them to you.”

“you know you’re only going to be a distraction.” you say, genuinely needing to study.

“okay, okay.” rafe says with a chuckle. he had no intention of actually helping you study. “how about a deal? you have an hour of solo study time before i come over.”

you look at the clock, figuring you could cover most of the chapters that would be on the exam tomorrow. “alright. bring snacks though.”

you can practically hear rafes smile over the phone when he responds, “i wouldn’t dream of not.”

--

“hey baby, you gotta be quiet.” rafe shushes you as you bounce on his cock again, textbooks long forgotten, decorating the floor along with your pens and flashcards.

“can’t.” you whine, knowing that your dorm walls are thin and the girl across the hallway is a tattletale who has reported rafe for sneaking into your room multiple times before.

“gotta, princess.” rafe says, bringing you down into a kiss to hopefully smother your whimpers and moans.

“trying, i swear.” you tell rafe, hands gripping his shoulders, nails sure to leave little crescent marks on his skin.

“i know, and you’re doing so good for me, huh?” rafe brings one hand down to your clit, massaging it and spreading your wetness around. “always my good girl.”

you nod your head quickly, loving the praise. rafe flips you over quickly so you are laying on the bed, keeping his cock lodged deep inside of you as he does so.

“ahh…” you let out a quiet moan, rafe’s cock reaching deep inside of you. 

“cum for me.” rafe demands, pinching your clit. upon release, you let out a shudder as your orgasm racks through your body. rafe closes his eyes as your cunt pulsates around his cock. he takes deep breaths as he waits for you to come down from your high, wanting to force another orgasm from you before he came inside of you.

“so good.” you place your hands on rafe’s cheeks, bringing him down to kiss you.

“i know, you got another in you?” rafe asks as he picks up the pace again. it’s already your third orgasm of the night, being given one by his fingers and one by his tongue.

“can’t.” you whine, pushing his hand away from your clit.

“oh, but you can, my love.” your boyfriend teases you, but takes his hand away from your pussy, gripping your hips as he uses your body to meet his with every thrust, a slapping sound no doubt able to be heard by your neighbors.

rafe suddenly pulls out, silencing your complaints with a kiss as he gets off the bed, grabbing a stack of flashcards from the floor.

“what is primatology?”

“wh- what?” you ask, pussy throbbing, missing the sensation.

“you said i would just be a distraction while you studied. i’m proving you wrong. let’s study. want me to fuck you? tell me what primatology is.”

“study of primates, like apes and shit.”

“language, but good job.” rafe says after he flips over and reads the back of the card. he lines his cock up with your entrance, giving you one quick thrust.

“what is ethnography?” 

“study of…” you let out a gasp as rafe thrusts into you, “cultures.”

“you’re so smart.” rafe praises, giving you a couple more thrusts as he reads the next card, “who was franz boas?”

“he developed a theory of… something.” you can’t think of anything as rafe’s cock pulses inside of you.

“cultural relativism.” rafe explains, tossing the card onto the floor, pulling out of you.

“nooo, rafe, please. fuck me and then you can quiz me.” you beg.

“then you won’t have any motivation, sweetheart.” rafe smiles gently, “besides, your test is in the morning, you need your sleep, and we are multitasking to save time.”

“what is cultural relativism?” 

you rush to answer, needing to feel rafe inside of you again, "that we judge cultures based on the standards of our own."

“good.” he coos, tossing the card as his cock re-enters you.

“what is stimulus diffusion?” 

“the spread of ideas from one group to the next.”

“aaand…” rafe prompts you, giving you a hard thrust.

“and the… the idea being changed by the adaptors.”

“good.” rafe smiles, “answer the next two right and i’ll give you a break… and let you cum.”

you nod quickly.

“what is acculturation?” 

“adapting... assimilation to a dominant culture.” rafe reads over the card and then nods, you summed it up well enough, and his need to also cum lets him give you a pass.

“what is the result of acculturation?”

“abandoning of original culture and um… uh…”

“good enough.” rafe tosses the rest of the cards on the floor, smashing your lips together in a kiss.

he thrusts up into you, hitting just the right spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

“can’t last.” you whimper out, bringing a hand down to rub your clit.

“cum for me, smart girl.” 

you immediately follow his demand, tumbling over the edge as your legs lock around rafe’s hips, forcing him to cum inside of you.

“there you go.” rafe hushes you as your body slowly stops shaking. “good girl.” he kisses along your shoulders and collar.

“now…” he sits up, letting his cum slide out of you. “what is biculturism?”