#(i move into my first apt next month)

[nightmdic]

Curious question for yall: what are some good stores to get furniture at for not an arm and a leg price in the US?

[depresseddepot]

my cat's surgery is scheduled and the recovery will be. pretty intense

[yoshistory]

if i took a shower had a change of clothes took my T shot and ate a sandwich i would be a new man rn

[comatosebunny09]

apt 302 | sylus q.

— summary: at first, your new neighbor was as mysterious as he was handsome. after taking some time to get to know him—or forcing your way into his quiet life—you realize looks can be deceiving. — cw: gn reader, neighbors au, neighbors to friends to lovers, profanity, innuendoes, jealousy, misunderstandings, stalker ex, alcohol use, guns mentioned, self-indulgent, allusions to reincarnation, angst, pet names, sylus being an insufferable gentleman, slice of life — dividers by: @omi-resources — notes: this grew way longer than i expected, soooooo you’re gonna hate me for what comes next. anyways, thank you so much for reading! — now playing: my favorite person now - she was pretty ost — tagging: @alfredosaws, @sinsodom @chuppiechanchan @hao-ming-8 @antonneva @sunsets-and-crows @leighsartworks216 @grabby-smitten @nebulorra @minniestarmj @elysiums-light @saiaise @queenofstresss @beewilko @aetherscribit @libriomancer @world-of-hearts @awkwardnurse @huachengnism

Information Technology isn’t as cushy of a field as you initially thought.

Sure, you have a desk job doing the most mundane of things—working the help desk, troubleshooting devices, re-imaging computers. But your job isn’t without its drawbacks. 

Sometimes, the days are long and arduous. The constant customer interaction doesn’t help matters; you’re a bit of an introvert, requiring five business days to recover from just a few hours of socializing. 

So, forgive you for seeking a little respite in the form of your favorite set of pajamas and fuzzy slippers as you ease into your apartment. 

The weight of the world sloughs off your shoulders when the door leading inside clicks shut behind you. You sigh gratefully, the sound of your keys clattering against your entryway table, intermingling with that of your AC humming to life.

You hang your bag and sweater on the coat rack. Trade your uncomfortable shoes for house slippers, the soreness in your heels slowly retreating. The last vestiges of sunlight creep through the slits of your blinds to bathe your home in its ethereal glow before ducking behind the horizon. 

Your apartment is humble. Has a natural, minimalistic vibe with bits of decor displaying your personality sprinkled throughout. You already pay the price of a kidney and two lungs to stay here. No use investing in posh furniture when your job sometimes requires you to pick up and go at the drop of a hat.

Your stomach growls whilst you draw your curtains shut and turn on some ambient lighting via your phone. You’ll eat soon, you promise. For now, you’re on a mission. 

Quietly, you move through your home in search of your laundry area, thoroughly prepared to slip into your PJs following a shower to jumpstart your weekend. 

Too bad a pile of sopping wet clothes awaits you when you open your dryer door. 

“Goddammit,” said under your breath as you mash the power button. It won’t turn on. Figures. You kick the offending appliance. Stupid thing must be out again. 

You had set your clothes to dry before you left for work. You were looking forward to snuggling up with wine and your favorite show, donned in comfy clothes. Seems your dryer had other plans.

You should’ve replaced it months ago when it first started acting up. You had hoped to salvage it a little longer; appliances don’t come cheap these days. Besides, you’ve had a darling neighbor to fix it each time. To extend its lifespan. 

Speaking of which—

Chewing your lip, you pad over your cold, hardwood floor to snatch your phone from the coffee table. Fall onto your couch cushions with a devious smile twitching your lips. It’s getting late, so you don’t think to badger him into tinkering with your dryer tonight. However, perhaps he’ll let you utilize his. At least until you can use your day off tomorrow to shop for a replacement.

You hover your thumb over his contact, his name flanked by crow emojis. Contemplate calling him, but what if he’s busy? This is usually about the time he’s leaving. Instead, you settle for opening your messaging app, already conjuring an excuse.

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): lol (Sylus): good morning to you too. (You): 😒😒😒 dude it’s like 6  (Sylus): 🤷‍♂️ (Sylus): im just now getting up. long day at the office.  (Sylus): whats up? (You): are you busy tonight?? (Sylus): not really. 😏 what did you have in mind ? (You): pause. not like that (Sylus): 😢 (You): my dryer’s out again (Sylus): ah. want me to take a look? (You): nah you already do so much (You): is it cool if i use yours tho? 😬😬😬 (You): i’ll bring you booze (Sylus): lol (Sylus): its fine sweetie. doors unlocked. ill be in the shower. help yourself. (You): 🙏🙏🙏

You take your time gathering your saturated clothes into a basket. On your way out, you snag a bottle of Merlot from your fridge.

No matter how often you’ve been here, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how much more… put together Sylus’ place is compared to yours.

It suits him—the black and red furniture, the stylish accents littering his apartment. It smells delightful inside, a mixture of mahogany and amber enmeshed with remnants of food. Soulful jazz flows from a record player, fitting the sepia-toned glow of floor lamps and candles flickering on every other surface.

You toe the door shut behind you. Feel so small and out of place amid his decor. You’ve only recently started coming here, having spent much of your time together inside your apartment. Regardless, you navigate his space like it’s your second home, finding his washer and dryer set.

After starting your clothes in the dryer, you wander back to the living room, hands stuffed in the pockets of your cardigan. You take some time to admire the atmosphere. Fingers skim over the various vinyls organized on a built-in bookcase on the wall.

You snort with a half-smile. You know so little about your neighbor, yet you know just enough to be this comfortable with him.

He’s a music buff; that much is for sure. He’s clearly made of money if the luxurious furniture and his car are anything to go by. You don’t press him about what he does for a living. Figure he values his privacy above all else, unlike you.

You’re an open book. The primary yapper in your acquaintanceship, prattling on about your life and aspirations. And he just sits there, wordlessly nodding with a polite smile behind the rim of his glass. Where you would otherwise be wary of being in someone’s home like this, you feel safe around him in a way that almost terrifies you.

“Admiring the decor,” teases a voice from behind. 

You jolt, spinning around like you’ve been caught stealing. You’re met with a smirk beneath scarlet eyes, twinkling with mischief. Strands of white cling to Sylus’ forehead, damp from the warm spray of his shower. He towels his hair dry, maneuvering around the living set towards you.

“Hey, you,” you greet, trying to play it cool. Like your heart isn’t hammering and heat isn’t branching into your cheeks. You attempt to maintain eye contact. It’s increasingly difficult to do so with his physique peeking through his t-shirt and sweats like that.

“Hey, yourself.” There’s amusement in the deep gravel of his voice. A smile in his eyes as he studies you, draping his towel around his shoulders.

You swallow. Try to divert the subject, motioning to his record collection. “You got some new tunes, I see.”

A chuckle is dredged from the bowels of his chest. You feel it pull in your stomach. “Sure did. Got something you might like.” 

God help you as he reaches around you, the fine hairs littering your body standing on end, your mouth agape like a fish out of water.

Unconsciously, you step back, your spine softly thudding against the records display. Your heartbeat’s on a warpath, and you swallow against the dryness of your throat as the veiny, sinewy muscle in his forearm stains your periphery.

He gives you a bemused look before slowly peeling a record from the shelf behind you. Steps back to fish out the vinyl and settle it on the platter, replacing the record that was just playing. 

You release a breath you were unaware of holding. Good job playing it cool, dumbass.

“You alright?” Sylus quizzes with a raised brow. “You seem a little on edge tonight, sweetie.”

You sigh, schooling an unconvincing smile onto your face. Try to ignore how the term of endearment glides off his tongue so effortlessly. You wonder how many other people he addresses like that. 

“Work was…rough today. Kicked my ass. I’m tired.” 

A snarling sound invades the space between you, heard over the gentle croon of the new music. Your eyes fall to your stomach. You rub it placatingly. In all your haste to have some dry friggin’ clothes, you forgot to eat. 

“And hungry, too,” you sheepishly add.

You glance up, and Sylus’ gaze tracks from your stomach to your face. He smirks knowingly, motioning with a nod toward his kitchen. 

“Figured you didn’t eat yet. I made carbonara if you’d like some.”

You smile wryly at his back as he pads away, carrying the scent of cedarwood and bergamot with him. Where would you be without such a doting neighbor? 

You track him to the kitchen. Leaning against the threshold, you watch him procure a bottle of water from his fridge. It’s so very small, dwarfed by his massive hand.

“I suddenly got called for a Teams meeting five minutes ago.” 

Your heart drops, the smile nearly falling from your face. And here you thought you’d have his company over dinner.

Suddenly, he taps your nose, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed when he got closer, swaddled in the static of your bodies being so close. “Where did you run off to,” he rasps, searching your gaze for something. 

The proximity of your bodies grows stifling, his warm breath glazing over your skin, dizzying. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he steps back, leaving you shell-shocked and utterly confused. 

“In the meantime, make yourself at home. You know where everything is,” he says, brushing past you with an air of finality. 

You strain your ears for the noise of a distant door shutting before you make your move, rummaging through his cupboards and drawers for a plate and cutlery. After you’ve scooped a decent helping of food onto your plate, you settle onto one of his velvet couches, cross-legged and shoveling food into your maw. 

The fluttering of wings piques your interest. You’ve hardly any time to acknowledge him before a tuft of black, iridescent feathers shines from Sylus’ coffee table. The crow studies you curiously, ingesting you with his beady eyes before he preens himself.

“Me-fith-toe!” you greet around a mouthful of food. 

Said crow ducks away, dodging errant crumbs and spit flying from your mouth, cawing in protest. You give him a rueful look. 

Sylus has a soft spot for animals. You noted it the first time you entered his apartment, greeted by his boisterous companion. Funny; he doesn’t look like the type to have such an eccentric pet. 

But Sylus has found numerous ways of pleasantly surprising you, revealing parts of himself to you bit by agonizing bit.

“Chicken?” you say after finally swallowing, offering a forkful of pasta to the bird. Mephisto scrutinizes the food before resigning himself to pecking at it. You smile fondly, your eyes crinkling with mirth. “Mephisto, you cannibal.”

Lulled by the occasional flap of Mephisto’s wings and Sylus’ even tone murmuring things of business somewhere far off in his home, you fall into a familiar rhythm, quietly waiting for your clothes to dry.

You spend the remainder of your evening in your neighbor’s company, drinking Merlot and judging each other’s music tastes, long after your pajamas have dried and settled in the dryer.

“So, have you boned yet?”

You choke on your waffle. Pound on your chest with the heel of your palm to dislodge it. You turn narrowed eyes on the source of the question. She merely shrugs from across the table, sipping her mimosa as if she’s asked the most innocent thing. 

“Bitch.”

“What?” She appears nonplussed, setting her champagne flute down with a definitive clack. All serious when she returns your stare over crossed arms, and you know you’re in for it. 

“You talk about the guy so much I figured you would’ve already, ya know…” The humping gesture she makes under the table is a bit much. 

You blanch. “No, dumbass, I haven’t boned.” Your voice peters towards the end of your sentence. And you peer down at the napkin folded in your lap, heat prickling your face. 

You won’t deny Sylus is good-looking. More like he could be someone modeling Prada on a catwalk. Can’t pretend you haven’t entertained the thought of being a little closer to him, too. More than just the late nights spent talking or him fixing something you broke.

You shake your head. Of all the times you’ve been tucked away in either of your apartments, he’s never made a move on you. Sure, he’s said some pretty suss things. Flirted with you outside of your usual banter. 

And maybe he’s done things to confuse the ever-loving hell out of you—cooked you breakfast when you were drunk off your ass and hungover the next morning. Lended you one of his expensive record players. Shacked up at your place a few times under the guise of “coming to get Mephisto.” But—

Nah. He’s not like that. You’re just neighbors, right? Unofficial friends. Friends hang out all the time, right?

“He’s not like that,” you say brattishly, stuffing more food into your face. At least not with you. 

You don’t miss your coworker’s fox-like grin spreading in your periphery. She taps her cheek thoughtfully, watching you like a smug sibling about to snitch. 

“Sure, sure. If you say so. He’s still a man, though. He might not have tried you yet—”

“Hush,” you interject. The table shakes, cups rattling as you saw into your sausage with your fork and butter knife. You’re done with this conversation.

Try as you might, however, you can’t banish your thoughts revolving around him. Especially with your coworker watching you like that, silently egging you on.

He’s not that kind of guy. 

He’s still a man, though. 

You’ve repeated it like a mantra throughout your day, even as you mindlessly clacked away at your computer. 

Work was a blur. An exhausting blur. Day gave way to the soothing exhale of night, and you were finally nestled in the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, on your couch, entertaining yourself with a game of Uno. It wasn’t much fun playing alone, but you needed a distraction from the mess of your mind when your favorite show couldn’t help. 

It’s a quarter past 9 when a shuffling sound in the breezeway outside your apartment catches your attention. It’s accompanied by the echoed rasp of a recognizable voice, chuckling and murmuring indiscernible things. 

You peel yourself from your couch as if on autopilot, nose pressed against the cold metal of your door as you peer through the peephole.

It’s your nightly ritual—waiting like an overzealous puppy to greet or send off your neighbor. You don’t always get the luxury of saying goodnight in person. Sometimes, he’s gone for days—weeks—at a time. You don’t know the semantics of his job, but you make it your mission to help assuage whatever burdens he shoulders whenever you can.

He’s there to help you, after all. Whether with a glass of wine, a warm meal, or his company.

So, forgive you for wanting to be a decent neighbor. And you would be tonight if not for the scene that passes through the fisheye of your peephole.

It’s Sylus, clad in something flattering and expensive. There’s no mistaking his broad back and shoulders. The purl of his voice, the wispy dusting of alabaster hair on his collar. But the smaller frame with him, well—

Your heart plummets into your stomach.

She’s pretty from what you can glean from the limited view of your peephole. Donned in a dress that’s form-fitting, voice high and light. Giggling silly things, fastened to Sylus’ side, held there by a virile arm draped around her middle. She’s drunk if the sloppy lean of her body is anything to go by. Sylus angles himself near her ear to whisper something, ushering in a new set of giggles.

You watch with your breath corked in your esophagus until they slide into his apartment together, their enmeshed voices fading from the stilled walls of the hallway.

Huh. Well, so much for him not being that type of guy. 

You grapple with this new revelation, a furrow between your brows, hands falling listlessly at your sides. Numb as you drag yourself back to your couch, bouncing comically on the cushions.

You don’t even know why you’re upset. He's a grown man with a…life. You think. 

It’s the first time you’ve witnessed him bringing someone to his place other than you, but it’s only natural for a guy like him to have options. He’s far from hideous. Has the gift of gab, for God’s sake. He’s charming and the very definition of masculine. 

It just stings a little, knowing that it’s not…you that he’s touching like that. 

So, you are definitely not flinging Uno cards onto the coffee table. Muttering things to yourself, gripping the stack in your hands so tightly, the plastic squeaks. What’s even got your undies in a bunch? The man’s not yours. You’ve never screwed around. Never really showed signs of wanting to, so it makes sense he would seek pleasures of the flesh elsewhere. His world doesn’t solely revolve around you as much as you would like for it to.

You’re halfway through a third round of angry card-flinging before a soft rap at your door nearly sends you some 30 feet into the air.

Stomping to your entrance, you peek through the peephole, and your heart works overtime when you catch sight of a wash of black and scarlet.

Internally, you scold yourself for how gullible you are. You throw the door open like you weren’t just cursing him and his stupid existence moments ago. Try to act nonplussed, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe with a haughty look. 

Of course, he would smell good. Look good, propped against the threshold like that, an amused cant to his lips, his physique devastating beneath the tight cling of his turtleneck.

“Hey,” he greets, the sound breathy and easy like warmed honey. 

“Hey, yourself.”

He studies you for a bit. Eyes flicker over your face, and you tamp down the sparkling rush of warmth that wades over your skin at the attention. Even when you’re mad at him, your attraction still finds an annoying way of creeping through the seams.

“This is going to sound incredibly strange, and feel free to tell me to piss off, but…do you mind if I crash on your couch for the night?”

You stand up straight. Blink owlishly, mouth opening and closing. “Huh?” is all you’re able to muster. 

He chuckles, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this side of bashful. “Yeah. It’s a…bit of a long story, sweetie.”

“O-Okay,” you say, rigidly moving aside.

“Thanks.” The charm is back on, turned up to max capacity. He brushes past you into your apartment, falling onto your couch with a huff. Quirks a brow at the mishap on your table, the carnage having spilled onto the floor. 

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but were you playing Uno by yourself?”

You ignore him, plopping cross-legged on a floor cushion adjacent to him. Bypassing the tick in your brow, you look off to the side, fighting the embarrassment threatening to take hold of your visage. Shouldn’t he be across the hall, entertaining his company?

“Shut up and grab some cards,” you grumble to dispel the green-eyed thoughts stewing in your mind.

“Bossy.” But he doesn’t contest you, gathering the abused cards to shuffle them. 

The remainder of your evening slides by with comfortable quips. With booze and a break to catch up on Love Is Blind—somehow, he’d roped you into watching it. 

You had no idea he was such a sap. Nearly forgotten how miffed you were mere hours ago. 

He assuaged your worries with an explanation as the sun crept over the city. 

The girl in his apartment was an old colleague who’d gotten drunk and convinced herself that she was anything but. 

Being a good samaritan, Sylus brought her to his place to sober up since the apartment complex wasn’t too far from the main strip of bars. He didn’t want any issues when she inevitably woke up. Messing with drunk people wasn’t his thing. 

So that’s how he ended up here, inhabiting your couch like he’d always been a part of the decor. 

He didn’t owe you an explanation. You were just friends. Still, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that twitched your lips after he cleared the air.

At some point in the morning, you both fell asleep. He looked all serene, too big for your sofa, but comfortable. You watched his lashes flutter from your place on the floor, his lips parting with soundless exhales. Even in sleep, he maintained that guarded aura, his arms folded across his chest. 

You were bleary-eyed, gathering yourself from the hardwood to fetch a blanket to drape over him. He shifted, and he was so pretty with the sun bathing him in an angelic glow like that, his hair bright like a halo. 

You were about to retreat to your bedroom when an abrupt knock tore you from your reverie. You glanced at your guest, ensuring he went undisturbed. He needed the rest. He was a night owl, and something about the sun vexed him, so he typically spent his days sleeping when you weren’t impeding on his time.

You moved to the door, foregoing the peephole to open it. Big mistake.

On the other side stood Little Miss Pretty from the night prior, impatiently tapping her foot. Her hair was flattened on one side, and her dress was askew. By the looks of it, sleep hadn’t been kind to her.

“Hi, good morning,” she sighed, schooling her expression into fake politeness. She straightened herself as best she could, but the white patch of dried slob staining her chin did little to help her plight. You bit back a snicker. 

“I’m looking for a friend. He lives across from you. His name’s Skye.”

You quirked a brow at that. Skye? Oh, honey…

You wondered how many other people Sylus had fed a fake alias to. Or if Sylus was even his real name.

“Haven’t seen him,” you chirped over crossed arms. Pulled the door slightly closed behind you, barring the woman from getting a peek at him, nuzzled up so cozily on your couch.

She sighed with slumped shoulders. A childish pout warped her lips. Her voice shifted into something more bratty. “You sure? Tall guy, white hair, red eyes? You can’t miss ‘em.”

“Not ringing a bell, hun. Sorry.”

It was taking all of you to keep up this ruse. You were fighting so hard to tamp down your amusement. This woman reminded you of an antagonist in a Korean drama, the way she was kicking and huffing about. 

“Where the hell did he go,” she groused. You watched her draw her phone from the pocket of her fur coat, your throat growing dry. 

Your blood turned to ice when a familiar ringtone chimed in your apartment behind you. You stiffened comically; mouth hinged open with shock.

The woman’s expression morphed into one of suspicion. She tried to look inside your home, the upbeat ring of Sylus’ phone still flooding the uncomfortable silence.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to assert her way inside. “What the fu—”

“Hey, girlie. Back the hell off before I call the police,” you warned with a hand pushed to her sternum. She insisted on being unruly, so you snatched your taser from the entryway table, the telltale blue sparks and sharp whip of static causing the woman to jolt back with alarm.

“You’re both insane!” she shouted from the hallway, the stomp of her heels reverberating off the walls as she made her way to the stairwell. 

With a relieved sigh deflating your chest, you eased the door shut. Leaned against it, glancing at the man of the hour. He was still fast asleep, his leg dangling off the edge of your sofa. You smirked knowingly, shaking your head as you disappeared into your bedroom. 

You’d let him sleep for as long as he needed. And you’d give him shit when he awoke about his taste in acquaintances. 

(Sylus): hungry? (You): a little. was gonna make some ramen if you want (Sylus): 🤢 (Sylus): that stuffs terrible for your digestion sweetie.  (Sylus): how about i make you dinner instead ? (Sylus): at the supermarket. need anything? (You): 😲😲😲 (You): you keep spoiling me and i might think you like me (Sylus): 😏 (You): nvm. no don’t need anything. lemme know when you’re back (You): i can help with groceries (Sylus): now who likes who? (You): fkdkos (Sylus): ? (You): sorry fat fingers 

You have a nasty habit of not using your peephole as of late.

Your apartment came with one for a reason. Sure, your neighborhood’s been pretty tame since you’ve moved here. But that doesn’t mean the occasional weirdo doesn’t slip past security, roaming the halls and startling the other tenants. 

You’ve found yourself forgoing the use of it a lot lately, given the only person who typically knocks on your door is the guy across the hall. And he usually calls or texts before he bugs you, but that doesn’t stop him from being spontaneous. You suppose today is one of those such cases after he manipulated you with dinner. 

Maybe his hands are full, you muse, unlocking your door. Though you’re doubtful he can’t handle a few bags. You’ve seen him in action at the community gym, thick cords of muscle rippling beneath a tan stretch of skin. 

You draw the door open with a smile, expecting to see a customary thatch of white. What confronts you instead sends a tide of dread washing over your innards. 

“Oh, thank God you’re home,” breathes a voice you haven’t heard in months. A voice that still makes your body stiffen, and your blood run cold. 

When your senses return, you step back into your apartment, thoroughly intending to slam the door in your ex’s face. They’re quicker, however, wedging themselves in the gap before you can shut it. Grabbing for you, a crazed look warping their features.

“Baby, please! Talk to me! I miss you!”

You bat at their hand, trying vainly to crush them, to scare them off. It’s to no avail, and you wonder if they’re coked up, giving you a run for your money as they try to bully their way into your home.

There’s a softball bat propped on the wall, and your fingers brush the base of it in your attempt to grab it. Something to defend yourself since your taser’s out of reach, tucked somewhere in your bag. 

The sounds of your struggle intermingle, your voice strained and panting, please please please, and your ex’s caught between sobs of your name. 

Just a little further. Just—

Suddenly, there’s no more resistance in your door. You stumble against it, a wild look in your eyes. And then, there is the noise of a brief scuffle. Of a back being shoved against a wall, of rusting plastic bags, of “Who the fuck are you?!”

Amid your panicked frenzy, you glance up to see a back to you. Barring you from the view beyond your threshold, and your body’s awash with relief as you register your savior’s form.

“You would do well to piss off,” seethes Sylus, and there’s an edge to his voice you’ve never heard before. You feel it furling in your stomach, burning your lungs. And in this moment, you don’t know who to be more afraid of.

Your ex makes a sound of protest, but you imagine the cut of Sylus’ eyes deterring them.

There is the scuffling of shoes across the concrete flooring of the breezeway, and you listen with bated breath until the cacophony fades at the foot of the stairs, willing your heart to ease down.

Scarlet eyes shift to you, brows knit with concern. “Who was that?” Sylus asks, tone cautious as if he doesn’t want to startle you more than you’ve already been.

You right yourself, smoothing out the wrinkles of your clothes. Finally grab your bat, waving it intimidatingly as you step aside to let your neighbor in.

“My stupid ex. Just know you saved their life. ‘cause I was gonna—” You make swinging gestures, the metal bat swooping in the air. The corners of Sylus’ eyes crinkle. 

“Slow down before you hurt yourself.” He kneels to retrieve the bags he’d tossed down in his haste to intervene. You scurry over to help, gathering up spilled food.

Once you’re both inside, the bags placed haphazardly on the counter, you’re seated on your sofa, nursing the rush of adrenaline still spuming through you like the hot rush of a geyser. 

“You need to get a restraining order,” says Sylus. He emerges from your kitchen with a tense set to his jaws, two bottles of Angry Orchard clasped between his fingers. 

Plopping down beside you, an arm draped over the headrest, he shoves a bottle into your hand, side-eyeing you as he throws his head back for a swig. 

You babysit the cider, the crisp condensation of it serving to ground you. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m not asking, sweetie.”

You bristle under the weight of his tone, feeling much like a scolded child. You know this. Should’ve done it long ago the first time your ex took it upon themselves to do surprise pop-ups at your place—at your job.  

“And an alarm system.”

“I know, I know.”

“I can take you right now to look for one—”

“I got it, Sy! Fuck, I-I got it.” You release a weighted sigh, warring with yourself. 

Not only do you feel silly for being so lackadaisical with your life. But now, you feel even worse for the seemingly impenetrable silence that settles between you. You didn’t mean to yell, frustration and adrenaline having burbled to the surface. He was just worried. No need to take your emotions out on him. 

Sylus exhales slowly, an unreadable expression descending onto his face whilst staring at the wall.

“Sorry,” you murmur, unconsciously patting his quad. You don’t miss how he stiffens; don’t miss the tight coiling of tendons in his neck. You retract your hand, instead drumming your fingers along the bottom of your bottle.

“I’m assuming this isn’t the first time this has happened,” queries Sylus in an attempt to dispel the tense atmosphere.

You shake your head, shrinking into yourself. Stare at your lap, pulling at some frayed threads in your bottoms. 

“How did they even manage to get up here?”

You shrug. The security guards at the gates aren’t always the most attentive. Besides, sometimes, the pin pad leading into the lobby malfunctions, making it easier for anyone to just slip into your complex.

Unprompted, you begin to bare yourself, explaining the possibilities of why your ex showed up.

Sylus listens attentively. Doesn’t interrupt you, watching the subtle shifts of your expressions as you speak. 

You tell him that things weren’t bad in the beginning about two years ago. How your ex said and did all the right things, and they were wonderful. But they wanted something you weren’t ready for. You had some growing up to do, so you broke things off. Moved to another city, started a new job. 

You didn’t bank on them following you. 

The visits were random at first. Occasional run-ins at the park, the bar. Things soon blossomed into something more concerning when your ex found your new address after you relocated to another part of the city to ease the stress of the commute. 

This was their second time making an appearance at your door. You knew you should’ve done something to protect yourself sooner, but you didn’t think much of it then. Figured they would live and let be. Today proved otherwise. 

“You’re grossly naive, sweetie.” 

You snort before gulping down the remnants of your cider. “Way to make me feel better.”

He chuckles, and it’s comforting, your thighs pressing together amid your dinky couch. “It’s what I’m here for. But I could understand how you could drive someone to such extremes.”

You glare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means…” 

Before you know what’s about, he’s panning in, flooding your vision with the scarlet shine of his eyes. With the wispy dance of his lashes until his breath fans over your molten cheeks. Limber fingers sneak beneath your chin, slightly tilting your head back. 

Warmth wades over you. Your breath swells in your chest. Lips purse as a mysterious shade of burgundy leaks over his irises. His voice drops a few octaves, husky, the sound of it pinching in your stomach.

“It means that you’re someone worth fighting for.”

You scoff, shaking yourself away from his hold. Ignore the bashfulness creeping into your face in favor of being a cheeky little shit. 

“All right, Li Shang. Getting a little too serious over there.”

He huffs a laugh in response, popping up to grab another round of ciders from your fridge.

Ingredients sat untouched on the countertop as your evening eased by. You’d settled on a pizza, catching up on shows and talking, long after the moon had pinned itself to the center of the sky. 

Sylus promised to teach you how to use a gun. He had plenty and would carve out time in his schedule to take you to a range. He didn’t press much after, instead letting the weight of your evening melt from your shoulders. 

He was reluctant to leave you, even after sunbeams spilled through your blinds and you snoozed so quietly, cheek propped against his shoulder. 

His hand never left your thigh. Possessive in its touch as he mirrored your affections from before. 

It’s strange.

Today is your birthday. You’re enjoying yourself, filled with enough alcohol to tranquilize a small goat. 

Your co-workers had dragged you out. Surprised you with dinner, a cake. Took you to the strip of bars lining the streets adjacent to your apartment complex. You were all smiles until your cheeks ached, and you’d nearly thrown up from laughing so much. 

Still, you feel…empty. Like something is missing. Or someone. 

You look at your phone for the umpteenth time. Scroll through your messages, reliving the moment in your head. 

Sylus was the first to wish you a happy birthday. It made you swell with overwhelming happiness, knowing he’d woken up so early to be the first to say it. You don’t think you’ve ever cried harder when he sent a voice message of him singing “Happy Birthday.”

God, for everything he was good at, poor baby couldn’t hold a note to dig himself out of a hole. Still, you cherished the gesture, lying in bed for the first hour you’d been awake, replaying said message and rolling around your bed like an enamored teen.

Even now, you replay the voice note, holding the speaker to your ear. It’s hard to hear it amid the live band playing and the merriment around you at the bar. Try as you might to enjoy what remains of your night, you can’t keep your thoughts from drifting back to a certain smug figure clad in black. 

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): hows it going birthday babe? (You): 😭😭😭 (You): u shuld be her e (Sylus) im sorry sweetie. i had some work to catch up on.  (Sylus): you must be having a good time. 😏 (You): fuk wrk 🖕🖕🖕 (You): am not drink ur dronk (Sylus): lol. you sound plastered. (Sylus): do i need to come rescue you? (You): hum (Sylus): ? (You): hone (You): home (Sylus): 🫤 (Sylus): we need to have a serious talk about you enabling autocorrect. (You): r u (You): home (Sylus): about to be. why ?? (Sylus): sweetie?

Somehow, you find yourself staring at the glossy, black numbers embossed on the top center of his door. 302. It’s ingrained in your memory. You’d probably find your way to his apartment with your eyes closed, driven to it by the familiar smell and homeliness it exudes. 

You’re still a little tipsy. Took some time to sober up as best you could before ditching your friends and catching an Uber back to your complex. You had enough sense to gather everything you’d shown up with. Didn’t hitch a ride with any strangers regardless of how many of them tried to pull you into their arms as you stumbled out of the bar. 

You had a one-track mind. Only wanted to spend the rest of your birthday with him.

With a goofy smile plastered on your face, you knock on his door. You’re singing that infectious song you can’t get out of your head when it swings open.

“Apateu-pateu, apateu-pateu,” you chant, shaking your hips from side to side.

He greets you with an omniscient smirk, eyes softening whilst leaning against the doorframe. “Well, hello, birthday babe.”

“Sup!” you return a little too enthusiastically, pitching forward until Sylus steadies you with his hands. You giggle like a drunken fool, peering at him. Hadn’t realized how good his hands felt, searing through the fabric of your top. 

Come to think of it, you hadn’t noticed many things about him before. His lips are a pretty shade of pink. Skin textured, nose sharp, cheeks high. Little flecks of amber dwell between the scarlet rinse of his eyes. His hair falls into his face, damp from the shower he probably had before answering the door.

“I take it you had a good night,” he says, gaze painting a steady triangle between your eyes and mouth.

“Almost,” you whisper back, surprised by the huskiness of your voice. You lose yourself in the idle stir of his eyes. In the fragility of his smile, and you feel so safe in his hands like this. 

You don’t know what compels you to do it. To conquer the space of hot, dizzying breaths between you. But, you sort of…well…

Your inhibitions hit the floor. With your fingers wrapped tenderly around his wrists, you angle yourself closer to kiss him. You almost pull away when he stiffens. But he seemingly relaxes, and his lips cautiously move against yours as he unconsciously guides you closer.

You cling to the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He encircles your waist in his powerful arms, fastening you to the hard press of his body. He kisses you like he’s waited lifetimes to do it, one hand molding around the apple of your cheek. 

When your tongue sloppily prods the barrier of his teeth, he bristles. Draws away from you with a resounding smack, blinking wildly. You’re confused. Your heart sinks. You try again to draw him back in, but he gently pushes you away, shaking his head to dispel the bleariness. To chase away the spell that’s fallen over you. 

“Baby, wait. No. Not…not like this,” he rasps through kiss-swollen lips, holding you by your hips. You’re wounded. A hot flush of embarrassment washes over you, and your brows knit together like those of a confused puppy.

“Wha-what’s wrong? Did I—am I—”

“No, no, you’re…you're perfect,” he soothes with a chuckle, a thumb gliding over your bottom lip. “Beautiful, even. I just…I don’t think now is a good time to do this.”

“Oh.” You deflate, a scorching film of tears clouding your vision. “Oh, okay. Um, I’ll just—yeah, I’ll go. I’ll…see you around, I guess.”

You slide out of his arms, too mortified to look back as you fumble with your keys. After he murmurs a hoarse, “good night.” Did you misread him before? Misinterpret his actions, his words? 

You’re numb as you sink into your couch. Sobriety slowly creeps in. Stray tears blister your cheeks, but you don’t full-on sob. Can’t bring yourself to, instead laughing hysterically with your face buried in your hands, swallowed by the bleak loneliness of your apartment.

Happy Birthday, indeed.

[amisonist]

fuck it transition timeline

I was originally gonna wait until July to do this because that'll mark 3 years on E but I feel like now's a good time all things considered

With that out of the way lets start from the beginning AKA freshman year (AKA 2018)

This was on my way to band camp which is why you can see my trombone in the background (random fact: that was the only year I got to do marching band and our show was "the music of harry potter". yeah irony's a bitch ain't she?)

Graduation picture featuring the bestest boi Jinn :3

This pic is from 2020 because I switched to online and finished high school early out of spite (I was 16 here if you were wondering)

Now then this is from 2021 and was taken only about a week before I started hrt when I was 17

The lake in the background is Lake Superior in case you were wondering. Me and my mother were all the way up on the Keweenaw Peninsula for my family's 4th of July party held at the family farm

Moving on from that I started HRT on July 22 2021 (the appointment was at 9:30 am and I took my first dose at 7:42 pm yes I kept track)

This was taken like a half hour after my first dose (I actually don't really like this pic that much but I'm including it because it is important)

Fast forward from that a year to 2022 when I was 18 and here are a few pics of me around then one of which again featuring best boi Jinn

(it was windy out that day and he tried to bite me immediately after this lmao)

I've never been particularly good at taking selfies lmao

That brings us to now. I've been on hrt for about 2.5 years now if my math is correct. I'm pretty much living full time as a woman, started laser hair removal a couple months ago (next apt is actually tomorrow lol), and I'm working on getting my legal name and gender changed. It's been a long ride thus far and I don't really plan on stopping anytime soon so yeah here ya go

So that's it! At least thus far lol

also fuck photomatt 🚗🔨💥

[katiebblynne]

✨Closer Company✨

SDV Sam Smut

a/n: this is my first fanfiction ever, so I’m sorry if it’s whack lol~

pairing: Sam X Fem!Reader

MDNI WARNINGS: smut, oral, praise, bondage, p n v sex

wc: 7144

Sam has been coming to the farmhouse often lately as two have gotten closer, but you don’t mind the company.

You hear your best friend humming in the shower as you fold your laundry across the hall. You and Sam have gotten pretty close in these past few months, and he’s been more apt to make himself comfortable at your farmhouse. You think back to the first weekend he stayed over two months ago. ‘It’s a good break to not be at home with my Mom all the time… I hope this is cool with you, y/n..’. You smile to yourself as you tend to your laundry. He still goes home, but the trips back are starting to become fewer and far between. As you continue your chore, you find bits of his clothing tossed in with yours. You chuckle softly.

You like his company. Sam is unlike anyone you’ve met before. He’s bright and warm, like sunshine in the midst of Spring. His laugh has become intoxicating lately – sometimes you even hear it when he’s not around. Your mind begins to fill with thoughts of sitting with him in your living room, playing games or watching movies all evening… sharing laughs and stories together. He even helps tend to your farm on mornings when he stays overnight on your couch. Your smile spreads a bit more, your arms absentmindedly going through the motions as you drift off. The squeak of the shower handle catches your attention, and suddenly your wholesome thoughts of Sam turn a bit darker for a moment, involuntarily imagining him stepping out of your shower, water dripping down his bare skin. Your hands stop moving and you stare blankly at the top of the dryer in front of you. A new, warm, almost strange feeling spreads across your chest… and drifts in between your legs for a split second.

You catch Sam walking past you in the hallway out of the corner of your eye, breaking your not so innocent train of thought. He strides carefree down the hall toward your bedroom still humming a light tune. You peek out of the laundry room subtly, catching a glimpse of his toned, damp back as he walks, nothing but a white towel draped around his angular hip bones. His low, raspy hum fills the wooden walls he strolls down, following behind him as he goes into your bedroom and closes the door to get dressed.

Your curious eyes settle on the closed door, and your cheeks fill up with air as you wisp out a calming breath. You shake your head, partly at the token casual nature he carries in your home, partly to tame the growing desire you have to go and see more. You duck back into the laundry room, finishing up what you’re doing to silence your suddenly intrusive brain.

As you place the last folded shirt down in its pile, you jump at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Your shower has really good water pressure.” You look over to see him resting against the door frame, wearing a loose band tee and sweatpants, a friendly smile on his face. His still wet hair settles against the sides of his neck, water forming to create damp circles on the collar of his shirt. You nod and smile casually, as if you weren’t just thinking of him in a less innocent light a minute ago. “Yeah, I just changed it out to a better showerhead a couple weeks ago.” You pick up a small separate stack of laundry that belongs to Sam, handing to him with a playful smirk. “Getting pretty cozy here lately, huh?”

He chuckles genially, taking the clothes from you. “I hope that’s alright… my bad for leaving these clothes in your hamper, heheh…”. You shake your head and smile softly. “I don’t mind, it’s nice having you around.” You take your personal stack of clothes and walk past him, going to your bedroom. He follows behind you in an almost puppylike manner. He comes in and sets his newly washed clothing next to his bag, plopping onto a beanbag on your floor. You start to put yours away, bending down slightly to organize some into the bottom drawer. Sam tilts his head slightly, his gaze lingering on your butt and thighs.

You can almost feel his gaze burning into your backside, and slowly turn your head over your shoulder with a mock accusatory expression. He quickly looks up at the ceiling and taps his fingers. You both share a giggle. You mutter in a teasing manner as you turn back around, “Wow… getting really cozy here.” He laughs and throws his hands up in a little surrender, “Sorry, sorry. My bad. I’m only human.”

You stand back up and finish putting your things away into your dresser. You go over and sit on your bed, looking at him stretched out on your beanbag. He meets your gaze with a casual, friendly look, his voice coming out brightly, “So, any plans tonight?”

You pull your legs up into a crisscross, laying your arms on your knees. “Nope, you?”

“You already know I don’t.” He looks at you cutely, waiting for the prompted invitation for him to stay over once again. You laugh warmly, “Why do you even make me ask you to stay when we both know you're going to anyway?” He joins your laugh, putting his arms behind his head. “I like to give you the option so you don’t think I’m a little urchin.” You both continue to laugh, an inviting atmosphere filling the room. You fall over to your side and place your head in your hand, looking over him and sighing to cease your laughter. You speak sincerely, a gentle tone taking place in your throat. “You can stay here as often as you like Sam. I really don’t mind the company, ya know?”.

You see Sam’s informal body language stiffen slightly at your kind words, a slight blush coming over his cheeks. He responds, his voice a bit small in appreciation, “Thanks, y/n. I really like being here… obviously.” He ends with a chuckle to disperse the suddenly genuine energy to something more lighthearted. You smile and a tingle flutters in your heart for a moment. This is a different feeling than you’ve had so far with Sam, but you… don’t push it away.

Sam smiles and pulls out his phone, starting to scroll through it. This happens often — you two just sitting together, silently enjoying each other's company as you do your own things. You get up from your bed and go over to your computer at a desk settled next to your dresser. You turn on some music and make your way back to your mattress, breathing in the comfortable air around you. You lay on your back and your head falls to the side, looking at Sam again. His hair is still damp, and the way his messy blond locks fall around his face make your insides stir a little for some reason. You speak up, prompting him to look away from his phone and up to you. “Do you not brush your hair after you shower?”

He grabs a piece of his hair, pondering your question. He shakes his head and shrugs. “Nah, I kind of just let it do its thing, I guess.” You tilt your head a bit, slowly getting up from your bed and pulling your desk chair behind the beanbag he resides on. You grab your brush from your nightstand and leisurely start brushing out his hair for him, starting at the bottom and gently working through the tangles. You can’t see his reaction, but you see his shoulders tense up slightly at your touch. He slowly puts his phone down on the floor and rests his hands together over his lap.

“Is this alright?” You ask, ceasing for a moment to make sure he’s okay with your somewhat affectionate gesture. He nods a bit, clearing his throat a little. “Yeah, that’s… nice.”. You smile and continue. As you make your way through his hair, your mind starts drifting back to the intimate thoughts you had in the laundry room while he was showering earlier. You stifle a moan in your throat and pretend to cough lightly to hide it.

You brush his hair for a while and end up resting your arms on his shoulders lightly as you do so. You notice Sam adjusting himself in his seat, his hands moving ever so much to cover his crotch. Your eyes widen a little, and that funny feeling comes back between your thighs. Something… almost hunger-like… creeps up the back of your neck, and you lean in slightly, letting your breath travel to the back of Sam’s ear. You put your brush down, switching to your fingers to comb through his hair. You can feel him shiver a bit. Your voice comes out, soft and a bit sultry, “Are you enjoying yourself, Sam?”

Sam lets out a small breath and nods, starting to fidget with his thumbs a bit. You smile and slowly wrap your arms around the front of his shoulders, your chin resting near his neck. He tenses up, his knuckles turning white as he interlocks his fingers together. You continue, your voice dancing across the skin of his cheek, “Be honest with me, Sam… out of all these nights you’ve been staying here, have you ever thought about me…” You pause for a moment, your voice lowering even more, “... in a way you shouldn’t?”

You feel Sam’s throat catch a gasp, and it sends pulses to your tummy. You whisper again. “You have, haven’t you?” Sam is silent for a moment, the sunset slipping through your window and casting both of your shadows on the wall opposite of you. Sam’s breath comes out shaky and small.

“...I have.”

A heat engulfs you at his answer. You smile and lean into his ear, your voice sending bolts of want down his spine. “Move your hands.”

Sam slowly moves his hands to his side, showing you the growing arousal he has been covering up in his pants. Both of your breathing hastens a bit. You lean away from him and start combing his hair again tenderly with your fingertips. He starts to speak shyly, “Uh, y/n… –”

“Touch yourself.”

Sam’s eyes shoot open as you cut him off, your request bold and unexpected. He turns around to face you slightly. “W-what?” he asks, his voice breathy, but laced with a bit of undeniable lust. You chuckle and grab his shoulders to lead him back to the way he was facing, pulling your chair up so he can relax into your thighs a bit. You whisper, a sense of plead behind your otherwise dominant tone, “You want to relieve yourself while I play with your hair, right?” you ask, your voice trailing down his neck. “Go ahead, I don’t mind. I want to see what you look like.” You lean back and continue running your fingers through Sam’s hair.

Sam shakes under your touch, his arousal building almost to the point of pain. He nods and hitches his fingers on the hem of his pants, pausing for a moment to take a small breath. He pulls down his pants just enough to let his fully erect, throbbing dick spring out. Your fingers drift gently along his scalp, a light gasp leaving your lips at the sight.

“Oh wow… such a pretty cock.”

Sam almost chokes on his breath at your flattering comment, his cock twitching in excitement. He can’t resist the urge to start stroking himself right in front of you. “Ah.. y/n…”. You watch him, an intense burning spreading from your thighs up to your stomach, and settling on your face. You watch as he strokes himself for you, biting your lip as you carry on massaging his head. You moan lightly in his ear.

Sam’s cock throbs in his hands, his hips moving instinctively as he pumps himself faster. Pre-cum leaks from his tip. He tilts his head back, exposing some of his neck to you as he moans softly, his body trembling with desire. You look at his neck and gently kiss it.

He jolts at the feeling of your lips on him, a soft gasp escaping him as he leans into your kiss. His cock is rock hard in his hand, and he can feel himself already getting closer to release. He whimpers gently, his hips bucking upwards more insistently. You stop touching his hair and wrap your arms around his shoulders again, your voice soft and sultry, “Sam, do you want me to watch you cum?” You reach your hand forward down his chest. “Or do you want me to help?”

His head melts back into your shoulder at your offer. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, a look of pleading desire locked in his pupils. “Please… y/n… help me.” He pants, almost begging for release.

You smile and nod seductively, your hand traveling down his torso. Your hand reaches his cock and you run your fingers along his tip, gathering his pre-cum. You take your fingers to your mouth to taste him. “Mmm… delicious,” you whisper. He watches you, transfixed as you lick his pre off your fingertips. He whimpers for you, “Fuck… please… touch me.”

You reach forward and wrap your hand around him, stroking softly. Your other arm tightens around his shoulders, holding him in place against your chest. Sam throws his head back against your collarbone, his dick twitching at your touch. He gasps and moans, his body trembling with pleasure. “Yes, just like that… harder…” he pants, his hips moving in time with your strokes. You jerk him harder and a bit faster, placing loving kisses on his neck.

Sam cries out in pleasure, his body tensing as he feels himself approaching climax. The combination of your skilled hand on his dick and your gentle kisses is too much for him to handle. “Y/n… I’m gonna…!” He warns, his voice strained with ecstasy. You jerk even faster and bite down on his neck, your tongue lapping at his skin. The sudden bite sends Sam over the edge, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. He arches his back, his cock pulsing in your hand as he cums, ropes of hot semen shooting out and coating your fingers and the slightly exposed skin of his hips and thighs. “Mmmmm… fuckkk…” he pants as he rides out his release.

You let him go slowly after he finishes, admiring his cum on your fingers. You sliver out of the desk chair and come to the side of him on the floor as he catches his breath in the beanbag. You let him watch you lick his cum off your hand. Sam studies you in awe – he can’t believe the sight… his messy, sticky cum being devoured by your tongue. His member twitches at the show and he groans, unable to help himself. After you clean off your hand, you lean forward and lick the rest off his hips and thighs.

He shivers as your tongue touches his skin, licking up the last remnants of his release. He lets out a low moan, his cock starting to harden again at the sensation. “T-that’s so hot…” You take up every last drop, even leaning over to lick off his tip. He gasps, the cool of your saliva a stark contrast to the heat of his arousal. You look over to him and swallow it all, opening your mouth afterward to show him it's all gone. He tilts his head in pleasure, his face contorting into a supplicating want. He begs, his voice ragged and husky, “Please, y/n… suck me…”

You can’t help but chuckle at his request. You look at him with a tease across your face. “But you just came – aren’t you sensitive?” Your voice is low and sultry, with a touch of playfulness. Sam nods eagerly, his dick still hard despite just having cum. He’s sensitive, but he doesn’t care – he just wants more, needs it. “Yeah… but it just makes it even better…” he says, giving a small whimper at the thought of you touching him again. You shrug and chuckle slightly, “If you say so…” You crawl in between his legs and make eye contact as you take him into your mouth deliberately. Sam can’t help but moan loudly as he feels your mouth engulf his sensitive flesh. He watches you, eyes heavy-lidded as you start to move, your tongue swirling around his shaft. “F-fuck… yes…” You bob your head up and down gingerly, savoring every inch of him. You moan.

Sam’s hips jerk up, unable to help himself as your moan vibrates through his stiff cock. Fuck, it feels so good. He can feel another release building up again, in defiance of just having done so. “Shit, y/n… you’re gonna make me cum again already.” You look up at him and a dirty thought crosses your mind, wanting to make him feel even better before he reaches his edge again. You take your mouth off of him and replace it with your hand, pumping sweetly. Your mouth travels down, and your tongue meanders up his balls at a painstakingly slow pace. Sam groans, his thighs quivering as you lick. The cool air on his aching cock makes him shudder and he looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust. “Please, suck them… lick them more…” he begs, his voice rough with need.

You gently suck them into your mouth, jerking his member with your hand as you do so. Sam throws his head back, a loud groan escaping his lips as you draw his reactive sack into your mouth. This, in combination with your hand working his cock is too much for him. “Fuck!” he gasps, “I’m…” he warns. You leave his balls with a lewd pop and take his dick in your mouth fully, cupping his testicles with your free hand.

Sam can’t hold it in anymore. He cums hard in your mouth, his eyes rolling back as his hips buck up uncontrollably. He groans desperately as he empties himself, his whole body trembling with pleasure. You take every drop into your mouth and lean back on your legs. You swallow every bit of it once more. Sam watches, panting as you take down all of his cum. He looks satisfied, but still horny. His dick softens a little, but he knows it won’t be long until he's ready for more. “You’re… so good at that…”

You finish swallowing and smile cutely at him. He stares in wonderment, breaking out into a smile. He’s never seen anything so hot, and that sweet little smile of yours makes him only want you more. “I can’t handle this… come here, y/n.” You chuckle and climb into his arms, your chest leaning against his, his dick resting against your clothed stomach. “What, Sam?” You ask with a loving gaze.

Sam wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest. He can feel the curves of your body weighing on him, and he starts to get excited again. “Kiss me. I need to taste myself on your lips.” You lean in and kiss him gently. He moves his lips against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore it. You moan softly at the new contact. His hands slide up and down your sides and back, his touch growing more yearning as you continue kissing. He groans, grinding his hips tenderly against you. You feel him getting hard again, breaking the kiss to look down between you. You say, half shocked and half flattered, “I cannot believe you’re already hard again after just coming twice in a row.” He looks down, following your gaze. He smirks, looking back up at you shyly. “What can I say? This is…” His voice gets shaky and serious, a blush forming on his cheeks. “...I’ve wanted this for a while now, y/n.”

Your heart tightens as he confesses this to you, a longing taking over your eyes. “Me too, Sam.” You see his eyes light up as he sits up a bit straighter. “Really? Like for real?” You laugh at his excitement, and nod your head slowly and lovingly. He leans in and catches you in a passionate, deep kiss. His hands travel up your back and tangle in your hair, a moan coming from his throat, vibrating through you. You part from him breathlessly, a devious smile forming on your face. “Well, I’ll let you fuck me tonight then, if that’s what you’d want…?” You offer playfully, your body filled to the brim with a mixture of exciting new emotions.

Sam’s eyes widen at your words and he swallows hard. He nods, his hand starting to stroke his cock. “Y-yeah, I want that. I want you so bad.” He leans in to touch you, but you stand up and walk away, stopping to turn around a few feet in front of him. You look at him seductively, naughtily. He smiles curiously and leans back into the beanbag, stroking himself almost absentmindedly.

Your fingers float to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head sexily. He freezes, completely taken in by what you’re doing for him. You toss your shirt aside, your arms going behind you to unclasp your bra. It falls to the ground, your tits dropping lower on your chest beautifully. The near-completely set sun struggles to cling in your window, it’s light tickling across your skin. Sam’s eyes wander over your chest and torso, his hands balling to fists in his lap.

You hitch your fingers into your shorts and turn around as you pull them down, bending over so they have to fight to slip past your ass. You hear Sam groan lightly and look over your shoulder to smile at him, mocking innocence on your face. His head slumps to a tilt, a yearning overtaking his eyes. You let the shorts fall, pulling at the elastic of your panties while still bending over. You look at Sam questioningly, teasing him. He nods eagerly – almost anguished. You smile and sigh, tantalizing him for a moment before taking your panties down. The thin fabric clings to your wet pussy for a second before letting go, landing on the shorts pooled around your ankles. A string of your arousal follows the fabric down, releasing against your thigh. Sam rubs his face in desire, leaning forward and putting his hands together between his lap as he sighs, tortured in need to touch you. “Dear fucking god, y/n. You’re driving me crazy right now. Look at you.”

You can’t help but giggle at his adoration of your body. You stand up and face him, holding your hands behind your back sweetly. “What would you like to do next then, my Sammy?” Sam looks up at you, his mouth falling open at your words. He swallows, trying to speak without losing his mind. “I want to taste you…”

“Taste me?” You ask, egging him on more. Sam huffs and stands up, walking in front of you. Desire fully possesses him as he takes your face into his hands. “I want to eat your pussy until you cum all over my face. Now.” His vibrant plea to eat you out makes your mouth water. You smile and whisper seductively, “Good choice.” You walk to the side of your bed and pat the mattress for him to come lie down. He nods, quickly stripping all of his clothes, stammering. He practically runs to the bed. He lays on his back, looking up at you with a hungry expression across his face.

You get on the bed, swinging your legs over his shoulders to kneel over his face. You keep a distance between the both of you for a moment, looking down at his flushed cheeks. His mouth is open faintly, his tongue eager to find you. “You want me to ride your face, lovely?” Sam nods eagerly, his hand reaching up to grip the sides of your thighs as he looks up at you. “Yes, please… sit on my face. I need to taste you so bad, y/n.” He starts to lick his lips, locking his gaze to your glistening pussy.

You lower yourself down, making sure not to put too much pressure on his head. “Eat up, handsome.”

Sam moans as soon as he feels your flesh against his lips, his tongue darting out to lick at your clit. He starts to eat you out enthusiastically, sucking and lapping at your pussy while his hand grip tightly on your thighs. You bite your lip and look down at him half-lidded, your hips beginning to grind on him. Sam moans louder as you start to move against his tongue, delving deeper into your folds. He moves his hands to your ass, gripping it and pulling you down onto his face more firmly. “Mmmm..” He praises from under you.

“Oh, you like me sitting on your face like this, Sam?” You ask, your voice light and ragged from the pleasure. He nods happily, his face buried between your legs. His tongue works harder around your clit, his hands roaming and squeezing as he pleases. He can’t get enough of the taste of your pussy. He breaks his ministrations for just a moment to breathe out, “Yes, so damn much…”. Your hips buck against his mouth more, juices from your cunt dripping onto his chin. Moans leave your mouth like a song.

Sam groans hard at the sounds you’re making, the vibrations sending sparks through your body. He slurps your clit into his mouth, then starts flicking his tongue against it more rapidly. He loves the taste of your essence, eating you like it’s his last meal. Your hands run up your body, squeezing your tits hard. You ride his tongue even harder than before. “Ahhh…mmmm…!” Sam watches lustfully as you touch yourself and use his tongue without restriction. He feels his cock twitch, wanting nothing more than to fuck you right now. But he knows better than to stop pleasing you.

You close your eyes tightly as you start to cum. Sam sees this, lapping at you relentlessly. “Fuck… Sam, I’m gonna – !!” Your legs start to shake and he holds you in place. You whimper loudly and cum, squirting on his mouth and chin a bit. He moans in rapture as he feels you coat his face, his tongue still buried deeply in your pussy. He drinks down every last drop of you, feeling his cock throb with need. He gently pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your swollen flesh. You weakly swing your leg off of him, letting him sit up. You lay on your side, panting. “Oh my god… good boy. Good boy.”

Sam grins, feeling pleased with himself as he watches you catch your breath. “You taste fucking amazing.” He states, licking his lips and wiping his chin. You softly laugh and sit up, catching his eyes in yours. You smile, still trembling a bit. “What next, Sammy? I want you to have some fun.”

Sam smirks, happiness and lust flooding his eyes as he looks back at you. “Rest assured, I’ve already had enough fun to last a lifetime tonight… but I would love to fuck you now.” You smile in response, bringing yourself to your knees on the bed. You both lean in and kiss each other, taking a moment to appreciate what the night has turned into. You break the kiss and ask, “How do you want me?” He is quick to climb behind you, tapping your hips as a gesture for you to let him bring his legs to either side of you. He asks you sweetly and lovingly, “Would you want to ride me to start?” You can hear the utter excitement in his voice. You chuckle and nod, straddling his thighs while facing away from him. “Like this?”

He lets a breath out at the sight of you positioning yourself over his cock, his hand relaxed against your ass. “God yes… I want to see your ass jiggle while you take me.” You look over your shoulder at him and wiggle your ass a shade, teasing him, “You want my pussy, handsome? Tell me.” Sam licks his lips hungrily, gripping your ass cheek greedily. “Holy shit, yes. I want it so bad, it’s all I can think about… Please.”

Satisfied with his response, you smile and plunge yourself on his hard length – your ass jiggling as you slam down against him. You let out a strained moan and take a moment to adjust to his size. Sam moans ferally, his fingers digging into your hips as he feels you sink down onto his dick. He arches up into you, thrusting to meet your core while you take him in inch by inch. “Oh my god…” he urgently praises from behind you, “...you feel so good, pretty girl. Please keep going.” You put your hands on his thighs to steady yourself and start riding him thoroughly, your ass twerking as you bounce on his cock. Sam’s eyes go wide while he watches your beautiful, full backside shake for him. Lust and need take over his body. He reaches up and grabs your hips, lifting you up and slamming you back down on his length with force. He matches your rhythm as he thrusts up into you. The room fills with both of your sounds, drowning out the music still playing from your computer.

You moan and laugh in pleasure, riding him harder. Your wetness drips down his cock with each ram. “Oh fuck, you like this tight little pussy?” Sam pants and groans, his fingers melting into your hips as he fucks you with even more vigor. He gasps for breath, looking up at you with craving eyes. “God yes… I love it. You feel so good on my cock… oh god, don’t stop baby girl.”

You keep up an impressive pace, despite your thighs starting to burn and your insides becoming undone. Your toes curl next to his hips. Sam’s breathing becomes ragged, his thrusts turning more frantic as he feels himself getting closer to orgasm. He groans and grunts, sweat dripping down his forehead as he watches your body move on top of his. You lean back against his chest, fully sitting on his cock, continuing your bouncing. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close as he unfalteringly thrusts into you. He buries his face in your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin as he loses himself in the sensations. “Shit, I’m close…”

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, wheezing at the intensity of your moment together. “Yeah, cum in this tight little cunt, Sammy. I know you want to.” You say, your voice sultry and weak. Sam’s hips buck wildly as he feels his climax approaching, your words sending him over the edge. With a hoarse cry, he jerks up into you one final time and erupts inside of you, his cum filling up your pussy as he rides out his orgasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…!”

You gasp at the sensation, your legs quivering as you sit on his dick. You shake and collapse onto his front. “Oh god, good boy… so good for me.” You and Sam pant heavily, his hands running up and down your sides while he comes down from his high – still buried deep inside of you. He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and licking at your skin with a satisfied grin. “You look so pretty when you’re full of my cum.” You blush and laugh at his indelicate comment, nudging him in the stomach with your elbow softly. “Jesus, Sam!” He laughs along with you. “What? It’s true!” You both catch a small fit of giggles, your minds reeling at the realization of everything that just happened between you two. You slide off of him and lay by his side, staring up to the ceiling. It’s nice that the comfort sticks around, even after doing something like this together. It becomes quiet, the music coming from the computer filling the silence.

Sam rolls to his side and props his head up onto his hand. He reaches out to gently trace your arm, a soft smile on his face. You turn your head to face him, matching his warmth with your eyes. Sam’s voice trickles off of his lips, approaching his next sentence delicately. “Y/n, I… don’t want this to be just a one night thing.” He looks at you tenderly, his fingers halting to hold your arm. “I-I don’t know why this happened tonight, but I’ve wanted it for so long and I just, I dunno… I want it to be something real.”

You don’t give Sam a moment to overthink, your words coming to reassure him without hesitation. “I want that too, Sam.” You look at him deeply, wanting your sincerity to strike him as much as it can. Sam’s eyes stutter as he registers your reply, his expression melting into unmistakable joy… and love. You giggle sweetly and lean in to kiss the tip of his nose. “You think I would let you stay over here so damn much if I didn’t want to be with you?” You both share a laugh once again, him capturing your lips in a heartfelt kiss. He pulls away and takes in the sight of you, your essence, your warmth… you. A spark of everything shoots through his chest, and he is perfectly happy. As are you.

You two lay together for a while, naked, just listening to the steady flow of music that seeps into the walls of the room. You finally sit up and stretch, your body still on full display for Sam. He feels a heat build back up in him, fueled further by his addressed and established love for you. You glance over to him, seeing that an arousal is building up between his legs once again. You fall into his arms, your chest embracing his. You say, with a mischievous tone, “So, do you wanna be in control next time? I’m aching to submit to you.”

Sam’s jaw nearly drops at your forwardness, his eyes lighting up with a hungry fervor. “Wait, really? Like I could… do whatever I want?” His voice is laced with thirst for you. You tilt your head sensually, your voice coming out smooth as silk. “What-ev-er. You. Want.”

Sam suddenly stands up, like he’s on a mission. He strides to your door, leaving and going toward your living room. You sit up confused, watching him as his determination spreads through the house. You hear him getting into the utility closet at the end of the hall, and your eyes widen at realization of what he’s thinking.

Sam steps in with a length of rope, remembering you had some extra in the closet from mending some fences together the other day. A blush overtakes your face and you look at him with a surprised, amused expression. He starts to laugh as if he knows exactly what you're about to say. “You perv! You’ve been thinking about using that on me since I put it in the closet days ago, haven’t you!” You both laugh boisterously, your playfulness filling the house. You settle and take a deep breath, some nerves spreading in your chest. “You really wanna tie me up, Sammy?”

He nods, a wide grin possessing his face while drive and desire possess his length. “If that’s okay with you?” He adds, hope clinging to his throat. You roll your eyes playfully and sigh, nodding and chuckling. “Yeah, get over here, you freak.”

He practically jumps at your words, sauntering over and gesturing for you to lay on your back. He delicately moves your hands above your head and starts tying them together with the middle of the rope. He slings both ends through the slits in between the wood of your headboard. You tilt your head up to watch where he’s going with this, his hands practically buzzing with excitement and arousal. He brings each end down to either side of you, lifting your legs out to your side and securing them in place. You can’t close your legs at all, your pussy exposed completely to him. He slips his fingers in between your skin and the rope to make sure it’s not too tight for you. “Are you comfortable? It doesn’t hurt does it?” He asks, before looking down at what he’s done, a scarlet red filling his face at the erotic sight. You smile, a bit vulnerable. “It feels good, just a bit… helpless, haha…” Sam swallows hard, and you can see the moment when uncontained ardor glazes his eyes. “You look so fucking hot like this, y/n.” You chuckle shyly, “I feel hot like this. I’m excited.”

Sam’s mouth waters, taking in your flushed skin where it meets the rope. He climbs onto the bed, crawling between your legs – his cock already dripping with pre-cum. “You have no idea how much I fucking want you right now.”

“Then show me.”

His eyes flash with a dark desire. He reaches down and puts pressure on the ropes, spreading your legs even further apart. He rubs the head of his dick against your slick entrance, teasing you. “Look how wet this is for me… I can’t wait to be inside of you again.” Your body squirms at the play, hardly being able to move because of the restraints. “F-fuck, Sam…”

Sam’s grin turns wicked at your restless movements. He pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, applying pressure. “You want it so badly, don’t you? Beg for it, y/n.”

Your tone is pleading and desperate, “Please… please fuck me… fuck your pretty little girlfriend.”

Sam’s control snaps at your words, and he pushes himself inside of you in one swift thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. He starts to fuck you hard and fast – an almost punishing pace – each thrust causing the bed to creak beneath you. “Fuck… yes…” he growls. Your body tries to instinctively tense up, but the ropes hold you in place well. Your face flushes as you better understand how truly vulnerable you are under Sam’s touch right now. Sam grabs onto the ropes for leverage, spreading your legs open and pulling them further apart as he pounds deeper into you. “You’re taking me so well.” He groans, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “You’re loving this, aren’t you baby girl?”

“Oh god…” you moan from the strain of the ropes and the pressure of his cock filling up your stomach, “...I love it. I love it so fucking much.” Sam beams with pride, picking up the pace even more. He pounds into you relentlessly, the headboard slapping against the wall with each movement. “That’s right, moan for me… let me hear how much you love my cock.”

You throw your head back and ferally moan, taking in every inch over and over again. Sam manifests a triumphant grin when he sees how much you’re into this. He starts to fuck you faster, losing himself in you. The bed groans loudly under the force of your intimacy, the headboard finding a rhythmic melody above you. “Take it all.” Sam whispers raggedly. You respond with a whimpered, pathetic moan. “Y-you’re gonna break me baby… oh fuck… shit…”

Sam’s grin morphs into a lascivious smirk as he hears your words. He grabs your hips and starts to slam into you even harder, fucking you like his life depends on it. “Good. I wanna break you. You need to scream my name.” Your body lashes in the restraints as Sam’s name forces its way from your throat, echoing through the room.

His eyes roll back in satisfaction as his name claims your lips. He pounds you with all his might, the force causing your body to bounce on the bed. “That’s it! Scream for me! Let everyone know who’s fucking you good!” Your vocal cords take on a mind of their own, “Sam! Sam! I love your fucking cock, oh my god!”

Sam’s heart swells with pride and adoration. He leans over you, pushing more on the ropes. “You love my cock? You love it?”

“I love it… I need it… every night, oh my god…” Your pussy drips with intense pleasure and you feel your walls tighten as you reach your edge. He throws his head back and moans brutally as he feels your pussy squeeze around him. He pounds you a few more times before slamming in deep and stilling, his cock twitching as he cums inside of you. “F-fuck… you’re mine… all mine.”

“Oh god, I’m all yours… fuck…” You reply as you writhe in your restraints, your body recoiling from your release. You breathe raggedly. Sam slowly pulls out of you, a satisfied tiredness on his face. He takes a moment to admire his work – your flushed face, your body trembling from the aftershocks of the pleasure, the evidence of his claim still dripping from your pussy. “Look at you…”

You look at him, all fucked out, your body still held by the ropes. He walks over, undoing your restraints with a wink. “You good, baby? Was I too rough?” “That was so… fucking good…” Your limbs go limp as he releases you, your chest rising and falling raggedly. Sam lazily climbs into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he slumps to his side. He kisses you softly, every ounce of his skin humming in sensitivity. “Yeah, it really was.” You two regain your breath, finding a pattern in each other's lungs to follow as you drift to a satiated slumber.

The morning comes  and you sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Your gaze floats over to Sam. His chest rises gracefully, a peace surrounding him… pulling you in. You move forward and kiss him gently, love flooding out of your lips. His eyes flutter open, breathing deeply and returning the kiss. You pull back. “Hey.”

“Hey” he replies, his voice raspy and sleepy.

“Don’t go home.”

“Okay, I’ll leave tomorrow.”

You shake your head and reach out to caress his cheek. You lean in and kiss him once more. “No…  just don’t go home, period.”

Sam’s eyes light up, a love he’s never felt before settling deep in his chest, seeping into his bones.

“I am home.”

[toomuchracket]

costumes (birthday party!matty x reader smut)

day 30 of promptober, and we're coming full circle on toomuchracket with some smut for these two! this is actually incredibly smutty, but kinda cute too - basically, matty's scientist halloween costume is really bloody doing it for you. enjoy! <3

"text me so i know you're home safe, yeah?"

"of course, babe. thanks for having us," your friend kisses your cheek, before being pulled away by her fiancé towards the waiting taxi. "and don't forget - bridesmaid dress shopping next week!"

"like you'd let me forget!" you shout after her. "bye, darlings!"

you wave until the gate closes behind them, and you're about to shut the front door when you hear matty call from the bottom of the steps down to the living room. "ah! wait a second before you close that door, please, sweetheart."

"why, baby?" your brow furrows, as your boyfriend walks slowly up towards you, the lab coat he's wearing as part of his scientist costume blowing slightly in the breeze from the open door. "d'you need fresh air, or something?"

matty smiles softly, leaning against the concrete wall when he reaches you and the landing. "nah. just wanted to look at you in the moonlight, s'all. you're glowing, babe."

"you- stop it, you're making me blush," you huff out; not in irritation, but rather slightly self-consciously, arms wrapping around your body as if to shield it from your boyfriend's gaze. you know he means it - he's complimented you in a similarly devastating way almost daily for the past eight months, after all - but you can't help but be overwhelmed by it. and by matty in general, actually.

the boyfriend in question giggles, and the love in his eyes is unmistakable even in the dim, pale moonlight. "but it's true! you're ethereal. apt, i guess, given the angel costume. which i still think is lovely, even if it is just white lingerie and a halo. not that i'm saying you shouldn't have worn it - not at all, my god, you look perfect - but i'd have appreciated a warning, sweetheart. thought my knees were going to give way when you walked into the kitchen earlier."

the memory of matty's face when he first saw you tonight crosses your mind, pulling a satisfied hum from your throat as it does. you'd suspected the white silk babydoll dress would have an effect on him, but not to the extent it did; he's pretty good at keeping his cool whenever you rile him up around your friends (inadvertently or not), but he almost dropped his wine glass in time with his jaw when you entered the room, eyes widening under his glasses.

those fucking glasses.

"mine almost did, too, baby," you gently close the door and walk slowly towards your boyfriend, swaying your hips very deliberately so your dress swishes and exposes your bare thighs.

just as you'd intended, matty's eyes lock onto your legs, pretty lips parting in desire - annoyingly, though, he snaps out of your little trance to look up at your face and smirk. "well, those heels are really high, sweetheart."

"i mean, yeah, but that's not the reason my legs almost gave out, baby," you smile as you reach matty, moving to lean your back against the wall beside him, looping your arms around his shoulders and tugging him into you. shifting your weight onto one leg (and winking at your boyfriend when he holds your waist to steady you), you cheekily slide the side of your foot up the side of his shin. "do you like my heels, though?"

matty's breath catches in his throat, which he has to clear before he speaks. "they're… yeah, they're sexy. i like them a lot. but," he regains control of himself again, which would irk you if he wasn't so sexy when he's self-assured. "if it wasn't the shoes that affected you, darling, then what was it? or who, perhaps?"

the smirk drops from your face, while a shit-eating grin appears on matty's. you sigh, twirling his curls around your fingers. "you're really going to make me admit it?"

"you know i like it when you tell me what gets you going, darling," matty's hands slide down your hips and up under your dress, coming (home) to rest on your ass. you shiver, partially from his cool touch, partially from the way his lips ghost up your neck. "come on. open up, gorgeous."

"it - oh, i like that," you whimper as your boyfriend sucks a bruise above your clavicle. "jesus, fuck… ok, fine, it was your glasses that got me."

matty's head snaps up to look at you immediately; you pout at the loss of his lips on your skin. "my glasses?"

"yeah," you look at the ground, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up your cheeks. "i think they're really sexy."

"really? in what way?"

you nervously peek at matty, expecting to see him smirking smugly at you - you're pleasantly surprised to see he looks genuinely curious. "promise you won't laugh?"

your boyfriend nods. "cross my heart."

"alright. well," you begin, smiling shyly at him. "this is kinda porny…"

you don't think you've ever seen matty's eyes light up so quickly in your life. boys, honestly.

"...but you look like a really hot nerd tonight, and i haven't stopped thinking about, like, pretending to sneak you into my bedroom so you can help me with my biology homework. reproduction," you giggle nervously at how daft you sound. "i know it's silly. but it's all i can think about."

matty's hands pause their gentle kneading. he stays silent, looking at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes and the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

that smile should make you feel alright about your fantasy, but it's matty. he's never quiet. neither are you, in this moment, panic making you babble. "but like obviously we've never tried roleplay and actually i don't know if i'd even like it i just think in theory it's hot and of course if you're not into it we can just forget i ever said anything and never address it again and-"

"darling," matty firmly cuts off your rambling, which you're actually quite thankful for given that your body's oxygen supply is rapidly depleting with every word. "does this make it seem like i'm not into it?"

his hands slip to the backs of your thighs and lift you up, eliciting a squeak from you as you automatically wrap your legs around your boyfriend's waist. he grinds his hips into you, as slow as dripping honey, and all nerves about his response to your admittance slip out of your mind, under the front door, off into the cold night.

matty's hard. really hard.

it's your face's turn to light up. "you like my daydream, then?"

"wanna make it a reality, sweetheart," matty smiles, kissing you - long and slow, just the way you like it. he blinks quite adorably when he pulls away for air. "right now, if you'll let me."

"please," you breathe against his lips. "been waiting for everyone else to fuck off all night so you could take me to bed."

"oh, sweet girl, you needed me that much?" matty coos, grinding into you again as he does. "let's go and do something about that, then."

with that, you set off, matty carrying you through the house to the bedroom with surprising speed. you don't know why you're surprised, though - you've done this too many times to count since that first night you got together. a happy little hum leaves your lips as you remember that night - the best of your life, it has to be said - and how desperate you were for matty to fuck you. nothing's changed on that front; you don't think it ever will.

he's gotten better at laying you down on the bed, though. instead of the graceless chucking of your first time, matty sets you down gently at the end of the bed and crawls over you, caging your body to the mattress and locking his lips onto yours. it's not a sweet kiss, by any means; his teeth sink deliciously into your lip, just the perfect amount of painful, and his tongue follows, soothing the bite and adding the pleasure. matty kisses like he does everything in life, with total conviction and determination, and you can't get enough. so much so that you can't stop yourself whining when he pulls away.

"oh, you are needy today, darling," matty smirks. "i love it. and i love you."

"i love you," you sit up on your elbows to kiss him again. "make me feel good, please?"

"always," matty kisses your forehead, hands trailing up to your shoulders, dexterous fingers sliding under the straps of your dress. "may i?"

for the second, but likely not the last time tonight: "please."

he obliges, sliding the straps and cups of your lingerie down, gently lifting your hips to slide the silk off your body and throw it carelessly to the floor. half-naked, you rest back on your elbows and just drink in the way matty looks at you with a cocktail of adoration and sheer want in his eyes; an odd mix, really, but you think it's delicious.

and as content as you are to have him look at you like that, you'd be more content reminding him of how delicious you are. careful that your stilettos don't catch on the bedsheets, you pull your knees closer to you and spread your legs. "i think i'm ready to begin my lesson now."

matty smirks. it's devastatingly attractive. "will you be a good girl for me?"

you steal his line. "always."

"that's what i like to hear. gold star for you, darling," he leans forward to kiss you again, but springs back quickly to gawk at you. "wait a fucking minute."

"what?"

that bloody smirk again. "this is all to do with your academic validation thing, isn't it?"

that's the thing about matty - he knows you better than you know yourself. shit. the blush returns full force to your cheeks, burning enough to heat your whole naked body on this chilly october night. "fuck. probably. is that a turn-off?"

"is it fuck," matty scoffs. he cups one of your tits, smiling at the way you jerk when he gently squeezes it. "i fucking love praising you, baby, almost as much as i love getting you off. and i'm about to do both of those things. yeah?"

"yeah," you reply breathily, as his other hand comes up to your other tit. "fuck, that's good."

matty hums happily. "lesson number one, gorgeous," he quickly pushes his glasses back up his nose, and you clench your thighs at the sight. "breasts. a quick lesson, because they're not too involved in the stage of reproduction we're learning about today, but," he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, smiling around the bud as you moan. "they're fun to play with during it. understand?"

your head is spinning, and he hasn't even properly done anything yet; you force it to nod, pre-empting his request for verbal answers and squeaking out a "yes". jesus. telling matty about this fantasy was a great idea.

he seems to think so too, sliding his hand down your body and beaming when he makes contact with your soaked underwear. "oh, sweetheart, i think i'm going to need a closer look at this."

"wait," you sit up quickly as matty prepares to shuffle further down the bed, carefully taking his glasses off and putting them safely on the bedside table. "there we go."

matty's brow furrows. "but i need those?"

you smirk. "not if you're going get up close and personal with me, you don't. feel free to put them back on later, though!"

"fair enough, darling," matty moves to kneel on the floor at the foot of the bed, tugging you towards him by the calves. "let me just… uncover the next specimen for analysis, yeah?"

with a giggle, you lift your hips so your boyfriend can slide your panties off; with a wink, he puts them in the breast pocket of his lab coat, and spreads your legs again. there's something really fucking hot about matty being fully clothed while you're naked, save your heels, and you feel the heat shoot straight to your core; it must show visibly, too, because matty groans as he looks at your cunt from millimetres away. "a fucking perfect specimen. and," he presses a kiss to your inner thigh as he looks up at you. "already nicely aroused. very nicely, to be precise."

fuck. this is doing it for you far more than you expected, probably because matty's committing to the bit so much. not that you'd expect anything less from him, but it's good that he's having just as much fun with this as you are.

the praise makes you preen. "all for you, baby."

"good girl."

another gush. matty's face lights up. "beautiful," he smiles at you, that full-face beam you'd do absolutely anything to see, and your heart feels like it might pack in from how much you love him. "and more than ready for our next lesson. are you happy to continue, sweet girl?"

"eagerly so."

"ideal. now, this section isn't strictly intrinsic to the act of reproduction, but i maintain that if you aren't including it you don't deserve to reproduce. or do anything at all, for that matter," matty says matter-of-factly, and you have to cover your mouth to prevent bursting into laughter and killing the mood. "female pleasure. i assume you're familiar with the sensation, darling?"

"extremely."

your boyfriend can't help himself. "too fucking right you are, my girl," he clears his throat and composes himself. "anyway. clitoral stimulation - often overlooked or deeply misunderstood by the male subspecies, a truth you'll unfortunately likely also be familiar with, but extremely pleasurable to the receiver and giver if done correctly. there are multiple methods of stimulation; one of the most common is digital. that is, with the digits, like so."

as his sentence draws to a close, matty's calloused thumb quickly finds your clit and begins circling slowly. as soon as he makes contact with the bundle of nerves, a choked moan escapes your lips, the first of a series of sounds your boyfriend draws out of you as he varies tempo and pressure of his hand movements. an epicurean symphony isn't the only thing matty manages to draw out of your body as he works your clit; after a few minutes and several rough kisses to your inner thighs, you can feel an orgasm building within your body, matty seemingly pulling pure pleasure out of your very bones through your clit.

agonisingly, just as you open your mouth to warn him of your imminent climax, he slows down his circling. "of course, other methods may be preferred dependent on the individual giver. for example, in my own personal opinion, the superior form of clitoral stimulation is… oral."

jesus christ.

you're barely able to inhale a full breath before matty's mouth is on you, and you lose it all anyway by screaming as his lips and tongue suck and lick and flick at your clit. he's relentless, all composure gone, tugging you impossibly closer to his eager mouth as he all but makes out with your just-as-eager cunt. the pleasure builds again inside you, faster this time, and you can feel yourself beginning to teeter on the precipice of orgasm when…

he fucking pulls away again. the bastard.

you whine, and matty kisses your lower stomach in what appears to be apology. "i know, sweetheart, i know," he coos, thumb feather-light on your clit. "you're being such a good girl for me, learning all your lessons so well. one more lesson to go, my darling, and then i'll make you feel good without interruption, yeah?"

"promise?" you croak out.

"i promise, sweet girl," matty nods. "because this is where it starts to get a bit more like the classic act of reproduction - we're introducing penetration. now," he slides two fingers up and down your cunt, covering them in your wetness and pressing them on the sides of your clit, making you jolt. "this can be done as an independent act, but i think it's a lot more gratifying - and fun - to pair it with the oral stimulation from before. start with the penetration," matty slowly pushes his fingers inside you and thrusts them back and forth, both your jaws dropping at the feeling. "my god, that's good - and then add your mouth back into the equation, like so."

he literally announced it was coming, and still the feeling of matty's lips on your clit as he finger-fucks you has you screaming. if you could keep your eyes from rolling back into your head at the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through your body right now, you'd maybe notice the way matty's concernedly flick up to your face to make sure you're alright - when he confirms your screams are the good kind, his eyes soften, but the black lust within them doesn't disappear. if anything, it gets darker the closer your boyfriend pushes you to the edge, the inaudible analytical murmurs of "you can add another finger for extra stimulation" and "hook them inside to stimulate the g-spot" and god knows what else vibrating through your clit and into your already-fraught nervous system.

it's almost too much for you to handle. your jaw is locked in place, throat muscles tightened to the point where anything but a strangled moan is unable to escape your lips, fingers practically threaded into the sheets themselves as if it's the only thing stopping you from floating away on a cloud of complete ecstasy. ironically, since he's the one making you feel so ecstatic, it's actually matty that's keeping you tethered to this earthly plane - his muscled arms are locked around your convulsing thighs as he sucks and finger-fucks you within an inch of your life. even then, you're still almost dipping in and out of consciousness, of reality, so strong is the buildup of pleasure within you.

you're not sure exactly what it is that finally triggers it, or how long it's taken you to get to that point. but matty does something, and you actually feel something twinge in your cunt as the buildup of pleasure erupts inside you. and that's it.

for the first time in your life, you squirt. you scream matty's name so loudly you almost lose your voice, as you cum so hard that you gush all over your boyfriend's hand and face, a motion you're only vaguely aware of in between split-second long blackouts as your body tries to recover.

matty quickly pulls his fingers from you, a string of excited swear words leaving his mouth as he processes what just happened. he's hovering over you within seconds of your orgasm ending, holding your face in his hands and speaking softly as you come to. "oh, my good girl, my perfect girl, that was absolutely incredible. fuck. how did that feel, darling? how do you feel now? are you alright? talk to me, sweetheart, please."

"felt perfect," you manage to breathe out, smiling dazedly at the gorgeous man above you. "feel so good. thank you."

"i love you," matty kisses you, short and sweet. "that was just… i don't think i'll ever be able to stop thinking about it. i know i say this about something every time i see you naked, but that was the hottest thing i've ever experienced, darling. honestly. i've never been more turned on."

"mmm, love you," you bring a shaky hand up to caress matty's cheek; he turns his head slightly to kiss your palm. "and i want you to feel good now. wanna have sex with you, please."

"are you sure you feel up to it?"

"i am. i do. i want you, baby."

"jesus," matty rests his head on your chest for a second. "alright. but i don't think i have the control to do another lesson roleplay, darling - need to fuck you too much."

you shrug. "i'm a kinesthetic learner anyway. show me what's what!"

matty laughs, quickly yanking off his lab coat and tie. "you're my favourite fucking person on the planet," he kisses your nose while he unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the ground too.

stretching, you sigh happily at the sight of his tattooed torso. "you're just saying that because you made me squirt all over you."

"nah, that's just a bonus," your boyfriend grins, kicking off his trousers. "i mean it, though, you really are my favourite. gonna marry you someday."

a gentle wave of love washes over you. "really?"

"really. but first," matty teases your hole with the head of his dick. "i'm going to fuck you."

he's inside you immediately after the words leave his mouth, sinking into you with a moan you echo in your slightly-broken voice. "shit, babe," matty moans, lips tangy with the taste of your arousal. "you feel too good - there's no way i'm going to last long."

"s'ok, baby," you whimper, legs on your boyfriend's shoulders. "you've made me feel amazing, s'about time you took a turn."

despite his exertion - he really is fucking you determinedly - matty huffs out a laugh. "sweetheart, that doesn't mean we won't be able to get you off again," he smirks, not unkindly, tenderly brushing a stray hair from your face. "if it's not too sensitive, can you be my good girl and rub your clit for me, make yourself feel good?"

oh, fuck. you nod, brain and voice taking a second to catch up to your head and neck. "i can do that."

"show me."

eyes locked on matty's, you bring your hand to your clit, and rub the same slow circles your boyfriend did on you earlier. "like this?"

"yeah, just like that, shit," matty's thrusts quicken; you speed up your circling to match, whining and clenching around him as another orgasm quickly approaches. "fuck, baby, are you gonna cum again for me?"

"yeah."

"do it then, sweetheart," matty pants, bringing his head down to rest in the crook of your neck. your free hand tangles itself in his hair, and he moans into your skin as he speeds up yet again. "whenever you're ready… cum."

still sensitive from your earlier earth-shattering climax, and driven to the edge by the combination of your own hand, matty's hips driving into yours, and his fucking voice, another orgasm crashes through you. it's nowhere near as strong as the first, but it's enough to pull your boyfriend to the edge with you. "darling," he manages to croak out, thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier the better he feels inside. "where can i cum?"

"on my face, please," you pant, chest heaving with aftershocks. "s'only fair, after i came on yours."

the mere mention of your earlier orgasm is enough to tip matty off the edge. groaning the sexiest groans you've ever heard, matty pulls out of your ruined cunt as you sit up closer to him, jerking himself to a finish all over your elated face. it's a bit depraved, but you fucking love it. you fucking love him.

once he's decorated you sufficiently, matty collapses onto your chest, breathing like he's just run a marathon. he's spent, you both are, but he still finds the energy to sit straight up and look at you with a panicked expression. "baby, you had your wings on that whole time?!"

"hmm?" you lazily turn your head to look at your own shoulder. sure enough, the elastic strap of your angel wings is still there; you tentatively lift it, to find the skin underneath red and tender. but still, you giggle. "oh, shit, that's fun! wait, i must still have my halo on, too, then."

"yeah, you do," matty smiles lovingly at you. "it's quite a sight, actually, baby, your halo askew and my cum all over your face."

"well, the wonky halo is thematic, i s'pose," you laugh. "considering what we just did wasn't very angelic."

matty kisses your jaw. "nah, you were a good girl for me. still an angel in my eyes, albeit a slightly slutty angel."

"your slightly slutty angel."

another kiss. "mine, all mine."

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Astarion is a full-grown elf gods damnit. He should not be running around with a comfort blanket like some snot nosed child. Or so he thinks.

 

Astarion’s gaze flitted between the fire and the blue blanket clutched in his fingers, if it could still be called that. Rag was a more apt description these days, the scant sections of fabric which were barely clinging together around the multiple holes were so worn in parts they were near transparent, the damp stench of the manor still clinging stubbornly despite having been exposed to woodsmoke and fresh air daily for months, as if it had seeped into its very being. Astarion mused that in that respect they weren’t so different – no longer suited for their intended purpose with the memories of Cazador and that place clinging, no matter how much time and distance was placed between them. And then he snorted at the absurdity of comparing himself to a moth-eaten scrap.

“Just toss it in and be done with it.” He chided himself, he’d bought countless victims to his (former) master and disposed of bodies without blinking. This should not be this hard damnit!

“Astarion, everything alright?”

Oh for goodness sake. “Perfectly fine, love.” He said, turning his head to smile at Gale as the wizard made his way into the Tower’s library, making sure to keep his hands out of sight. Gale tilted his head at him appraisingly.

“You don’t seem so sure. I don’t mean to pry, it’s just that I’ve noticed you always look to the right when you’re nervous or embarrassed. You don’t have to divulge anything you don’t wish to but if it’s something I may be able to help with, I’d like to.”

Sometimes Astarion forgot how genuinely earnest his lover could be, and if he were being honest with himself, this was nowhere near the worst thing they’d caught one another doing (Astarion attempting to bite Gale that first week on the road would always be at the top of his list, no matter how much Gale insisted otherwise). Sighing, he turned to face Gale fully, hands holding out the blanket, “It’s nothing to worry your pretty head over. I was only attempting to dispose of this only I…seem to be having some difficulty.”

Gale moved forwards, standing next to him by the fireplace and saying nothing as he waited for Astarion to decide whether he wanted to elaborate or not.

“It’s from…before. The only thing I managed to grab before the tadpoles, my last link to my time as Cazador’s cur.” He gave a humourless huff of a laugh, “It’s so easy, just drop it into the flames and it’s done and yet, I can’t seem to do it.”

“Because it’s yours?” Gale guessed, thinking back on what Astarion had told him about Cazador’s feelings on his spawn having any personal possessions. Even clothes had been shared (there was a reason Astarion and his siblings had become so adept at sewing, some nights his well-being for the foreseeable future would quite literally depend on repairing or altering an ill-fitting garment in a matter of minutes), “It was the only thing in that place that was solely yours?”

Astarion seemed to consider this a moment before nodding, “Truly pathetic, isn’t it.”

“Oh darling, it really isn’t.” Gale said, slowly wrapping his arms around the vampire’s waist, “It’s like those displaced Tiefling children, do you remember? They were clinging to those old rag toys like lifelines because they were familiar, comforting. They were a piece of home.”

Astarion gave a more forceful snort bordering on a snarl, “Why on earth would I get sentimental about the place that was my prison for two centuries, and exactly Gale, children. I’m an adult and a killer and have been for centuries, I shouldn’t be reliant on something as asinine as a comfort item!” He was either ignoring or unaware of the fact that he was running the blanket through his fingers as he said this.

“If it works, then what’s the harm? Comfort can come from surprising places.”

Astarion said nothing, choosing to go back to staring into the flames.

“Wait here a moment, don’t move.”

It was a couple of minutes later, Gale returned to the library, revealing something from behind his back with a flourish, “This little madam was in my pack for our entire journey.”

Astarion could only stare at the small, moth-eaten toy cat no bigger than Gale’s palm. It was hard to tell what colour it had been to start off with and one of the glass eyes had been crudely replaced with a button at some point, “Gale?”

“My parent’s first attempt at pacification when they refused my entreaties for a kitten. Even after Tara came into my life, I couldn’t bear to part with it and as I got older, it started accompanying me whenever she couldn’t.”

“You mean to tell me the entire time we spent fighting gods, monsters and everything in-between, you had a childhood toy in your pocket.”

“In my pack.” Gale corrected, “Although, she started off in my pocket so you’re not technically wrong but anyway. While I admit I wasn’t about to broadcast her existence, it didn’t have any negative effect on my contributions during our travels, and I’m hoping it doesn’t make you think any less of me now.”

Astarion smirked at the little cat, “It’s sort of like you. Charming in a soft, bedraggled sort of way.” The observation held none of the bite it would have fresh off the Nautaloid.

“And this is stubborn and resilient as hell, much like its owner.” Gale said gently grasping the corner of the blanket from where it dangled in Astarion’s hand, “If you feel you want to get rid of it then by all means. I’ll even do it for you if you wish. But, there’s absolutely no shame in wanting to hold onto it for a little longer.”

Astarion hummed in thought, running a finger delicately over one of the cat’s cloth ears, “Maybe just a little longer.”

From that night onwards, when the bed wasn’t occupied by a wizard and his vampire, a well-loved cloth cat was sat on top of the duvet, wrapped in the remnants of a worn, blue blanket.

[magpiepills]

Kill Shot

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ only, MDNI

Pairing: Ezra x f reader

Word count: 10k

Summary: Alone on the green, you’re ambushed by a stranger. Defenseless, you have no choice but to put your trust in him.

I’m combining three parts into one. Sort of. It’s long. Take a break if you need to. This was originally posted 11/22/23. I’m rebuilding my masterlist, so feel free to skip this if you already saw it the first time.

Warnings: Smut, porn with plot, bit of angst? Oral (f receiving) fingering, weapons, minor violence, dubious consent, masturbation, pet names, homemade sex toy, butt stuff, unprotected PIV, oral, fingering, spitting, dirty talk, bondage, doubled penetration, misuse of valuable root pesrls, teasing, thigh riding, masturbation, etc., etc., so on and so forth. No use of y/n, I’ve tried to make sure the reader is not racially coded, and that physical descriptions are limited to the type of genitals the reader has.

A word from the author: well it’s here! My baby! The story I’ve wanted to write for months and worried over and dreamed of and wouldn’t be quiet about is done. I know tomorrow I’ll think of things I should have put in that I didn’t, that I’ll go back and find typos, that people may not like it, but this has made me happy. This is my birthday present to myself and this fic has been a very useful distraction from some pretty heavy things. I’ve got a soft spot for this fic. I have a soft spot for Ezra. I love him. I love Prospect. I loved getting to spend time there as I wrote. Many thanks to all my magic sluts for the love and encouragement and for reading this shit. I love you.

ACT I: Fool’s Gold

Maybe you should have taken your grandmother's advice. “Nothing out there for a girl on her own. Just trouble. Won’t be worth it.” She had said, shaking her head. You could hear the weariness in her voice even as she sat wringing her hands on another planet. You knew she was right. Nothing could stop you though, not when your mind was made up. You’re a stubborn woman in a long line of stubborn women, and both of you knew that no amount of good sense would keep you from sinking all of your savings into a second hand environmental suit, a new laser scalpel, and a deposit on a parcel class drop pod that looked like it may not make it past Central in the first place. You scavenged for the rest of the equipment, building a small cache of slurry packs, a few refreshers, enough chem to extract several cases worth of the rare gems you sought, and borrowed a thrower. It was folly at best, elaborate suicide at worst and most likely. But what was the saying? “No guts, no glory?” Maybe it was best not to think of your guts right now. Maybe “Nothing ventured, nothing gained” was more apt. It didn’t really matter now, anyway. Nothing mattered after his first words pierced the peaceful bubble of your harvest.

“Don’t move.”

You froze, knelt on the soft, damp earth. Your knees grew cold and wet, elbow deep in the shallow cavern where the aurelac spread below the surface. The raspy voice crackled through your ear piece, stilling your heart, slowing your blood.

You didn’t need to see the weapon to know what was pressed against the back of your neck. The weight of the metal held you in place. You closed your eyes, and resigned yourself to your fate, readying yourself to meet Kevva much more readily than you thought possible. You’d like to have fought back, but you couldn’t reach your own side arm, it lay uselessly next to your scalpel and the bottle of fazer that, tipped into the cavern below, would surely kill you both. “Don’t even think about going for that thrower, either.” The voice was so casual, threatening your life like he was reading the weather report. You did as he said, accepting defeat, hoping your life and your harvest was all he wanted. There are worse ways to die than choking on the dust. “Gooooood,” he purred, “Now lay on your belly. Don’t try anything.”

Again you obeyed, but before you were settled on the ground, his boot connected with your hip, sending you rolling to your back with a yelp. Before you could get your bearings, his boot was on your chest, enough weight behind it to hold you down, compressing your sternum uncomfortably. From this angle, you could appreciate how beautiful the green moon was, soft pinkish-blueish clouds diffusing across the sky where Bakhroma was setting. Dust floated up and for a while you could forget that it was poisonous. You stared up at the sky and the canopy of green until the sunlight on his rail gun caught your eye. You stared down the engraved barrel, waiting for him to shoot you, or worse. Whatever he was going to do, you wished he’d just do it.

You grabbed feebly at him, hoping that if you put up more of a fight he would do something or say something, but he didn’t. What was he waiting for? It was infuriating and terrifying to wait while a stranger decided what to do with your life. You wanted to yell, to tell him off, to beg, but when you finally looked at him, all the words escaped. His visor was scratched and pitted, his suit was ill fitting and dirty, but his eyes were big and sad and desperate. His lips were parted, as if he were as speechless as you were.

His aim faltered almost imperceptibly, and he furrowed his brow. “Looks like I’ve got a rabbit in my garden.” Your anger boiled back up and you dug your nails into his calf as best you could through his insulating layers. Your efforts were in vain and he chuckled. “Not a rabbit. A pussycat.” You wanted to scream. Finally he shifted his weight and moved his foot so that he was standing above you, straddling your hips, his grip in the thrower more relaxed. “What’s in the case, pussycat? Show me.” He tilted his head toward your aurelac case, only half filled with your spoils. “Go on. Let’s see what you’ve got. Easy.” He stepped back, giving you room to get up. You took your first full breath since his shadow first fell on you, then unlocked the case and shoved it toward him.

Eyes sparkling, he silently tabulated the value of your pull. You hoped he would just take the case and run, that would be the best case scenario. You could still get home, prove your grandmother right, lick your wounds, and find an honest job back on the Pug. Forget this disaster ever happened. Try to find another way to pay off the debt of the wrecked and destroyed pod.

“You harvest all this yourself?” He asked, and you weren’t able to determine what answer might be safest. Do you tell him you’re alone? Pretend you’ve got a whole crew waiting for you on the other side of the ridge? Before you could decide which tack to take, he continued. “Haven’t seen anyone in this sector in some time now. No landers, either. You’re alone, I reckon. You got a camp?” Resigned to whatever fate awaited you, you shook your head. You didn’t have a camp. You had a tent that you put up every night and took down every morning, counting on your impermanence to offer some safety. Fat lot of good that did. You chest was suddenly tight and tears welled in your eyes faster than you could blink them back. “It’s not safe out here for a girl on her own.” The irony of his warning did nothing to stem your crying. He looked away, out of disgust or pity or embarrassment for you, you didn’t know. You wished you could wipe your face.

After a humiliating moment, he spoke again. “Alright.” He gestured around at your meager equipment with the barrel of his thrower, “Get your kit. You’ll come with me.”

“No.” You said, not sounding half as sure of yourself as you’d hoped you would.

He raised his eyebrows at you and lifted the thrower again, careful not to point it right at you this time. “I wasn’t askin’, pussycat. You’re alone, you can harvest, and now you’re coming with me. This is the best case scenario for you. Move.”

The image of your scattered bones, covered in moss and ferns, little yellow flowers sprouting between your ribs flashed in your mind as you packed your things. All the things but the aurelac, which the man with the gun held onto.

He gestured toward an opening in the woods, “Ladies, first.” Chivalry is alive. You trudged in silence, following a path so lightly treaded you could barely see it.

The air was thicker, heavier with motes of poison dust than it seemed to be when you were alone. It gave you a sense of hopelessness and dread. A heaviness in your chest that you hadn’t known even when you found yourself lost in the dense forest. Your captor never fell out of step, always right behind you with his rail gun trained at your side, your case of aurelac banging against his leg as he picked carefully through the woods. He talked as he walked, introducing himself simply as “Ezra” and lamenting the dust, cursing his equipment, pointing out things in the landscape that were supposed to be of interest, but failed to pull you away from your singular focus of trying to remember your path. Your eyes darted around, looking for any anomaly in your surroundings, anything you could use to find your way back somehow. “Back when these hills were full of raiders…” his voice droned on, “There was a fella that went by Alam that used to…” on and on for what felt like hours while your skin itched under your wet clothes. “Here it is. Home, sweet home. Doesn’t look like much, but it is adequate for the savvy returner.”

Ezra stood before a tattered and faded tent, obscured by vegetation and dust that had collected along the seams. You would have walked right past it if he hadn’t guided you here. He unzipped and quickly ushered you inside with a hand on your back. Zipped back in, he turned on a space filter, it popped and whirred for a moment before Ezra began tossing aside his helmet and undoing the snaps and fasteners of his suit. He must have seen the panic on your face as he undressed. “You can take the cot on the right.” His voice was careful, and he turned away from you as he shrugged out of his suit, leaving him in a long sleeved white shirt and gray thermal pants that fit snugly to his legs. “There’s a refresher in the back if you want to clean up, and whatever you want for supper as long as it’s Pastors Henry.” Ezra smiled warmly and you nodded, acknowledging his hospitality without a word.

You sat on the creaking cot and removed your helmet, then rummaged through your pack for clean underclothes before closing the refresher curtain around yourself to finish undressing. You felt more naked than ever before, more vulnerable with only the curtain between you and your unwanted companion, but it did feel good to wash off the sweat and grime from your body and hair. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been able to bathe without needing to hold your helmet and filter tube while you swabbed at yourself with a damp cloth.

When you emerged, fresh and dressed, you found Ezra sitting on his own cot with your aurelac case on his knee, admiring your haul with a small loupe.

He looked up and allowed himself only the quickest glance over your body before settling on your eyes. “This is excellent work. Near master level harvesting. Look. Nary an imperfection. Did you really do all this yourself?”

Without his helmet on, standing this close to him, you could hear him wheezing as he breathed. You could see the delicate curve of his nose and the silvery scar on his cheek, the shock of white in his uncombed hair above his temple that made him look right at home on the untamable moon.

“I did. Taught myself, wasn’t always so good.”

He passed you a pouch of slurry, bumping his own against yours before taking a hearty swig.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

“Same as you, I imagine. Trying to make my fortune before the BG line shuts down for good. Thought it was worth the risk. Thought I could make enough to spend the rest of my life on Lao. Thought wrong.” Your voice dropped and you studied your hands in your lap at the last sentence, embarrassed at the accusation against the man who was feeding you dinner and giving you a bed to sleep on, even if you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“It’s dangerous out there.” He said, not for the first time. “There are still raiders, kips, only desperate men left now that the rush is past. And that’s only the men, Pussycat. Do you understand? I think we could help each other. I’ve got the equipment, the chem, and the weaponry. I just need your steady hand. I can keep you safe, girl. You’d be top hand. We could be rich.” You met his gaze, but didn’t speak, waiting for him to continue. “I know you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either, but I want you to consider my offer. An equal partnership for a limited engagement.”

It sounded too good to be true. If Ezra was willing to help you harvest, take care of the details so you could make the extractions and offer some protection, it might not be so bad to take one more risk.

The soothing cadence of his voice let you imagine the possibilities he was presenting. It lulled you, gave you time to study the thick vein on the side of his neck, the wide expanse of his shoulders, the strength of his thighs, and the thickness of his paddle-like hands. You didn't doubt he could protect you, but for a fraction of a second, you thought of other ways he might help a girl who was all alone. As quick as the thought came, you chided yourself. This man had just held you at gunpoint, he may yet kill you in your sleep. This was no time to think of meeting any needs but survival. Even if it had been a stand or two since you knew the comfort and pleasure of that particular human touch.

“Let me sleep on it. We can’t do anything tonight anyway.”

He nodded and hummed. Your lingering gaze hadn’t gotten past him. He knew the look well. He ran his hands slowly from his thighs to his knees, a casual thing, but he hoped to tap into whatever you’d seen when you’d let your eyes rove over him.

“A judicious measure. We will let it simmer and come back to it in daylight. I’m going to hit the refresher myself, I can’t be good company filthy as I am.”

•••••

In the narrow refresher stall, Ezra stripped off his clothes, eager to wash away the sticky layer of sweat that clung to him, anxious to run his hands over his body under the tepid stream of recycled water. He thought of you, how close he was to dispatching you, a lone prospector, until you were on your back and he was close enough to see a much bigger picture. His ship, his gems, a way off this forsaken moon. It seemed too easy, too perfect. And now? The unmistakable gleam in your eye added an extra layer to the whole scheme, an auspicious twist in his designs.

Following the trail of water running down his chest and belly, his hand found his cock half hard. He tipped his head back with a heavy sigh, and stroked himself. He thought of the fear in your eyes, thought of how easily you obeyed him, how your thin tank top did nothing to hide your pebbled nipples. He imagined you on your knees, or under him, the sounds you’d make for him when he filled you with his cock. Close to release, he squeezed the base of his cock hard, staving off his orgasm, letting the moment slip away. For so long he believed he might never see another woman. The green is all but abandoned, but even when the rush was at its peak women were scarce. The green moon is harsh and unforgiving, the poisonous atmosphere seemed suited only to the foolish, the reckless, and the criminal. Here you are through, not just on the moon, but in his tent, on his cot, and ripe for the taking.

•••••

While Ezra freshened up, you sat on the little cot, repacking your harvesting kit, making sure nothing was broken when you hastily packed. He hasn’t been unkind. Not really. You knew that prime territories on the green moon used to be fought over, and that people died when they harvested in someone else’s dig. You’d assumed that since the green was mostly abandoned now that would be a thing of the past, but maybe you’d been wrong. Could you really blame him for defending his claim? Maybe you’d have done the same thing if you were him. Your shoulders relaxed a bit. This could work, you thought. You hadn’t planned on having a partner, but if you were both lonesome out here and you could team up for mutual benefit, why not? And it didn’t hurt that he was handsome. You’d keep your guard up, of course, but what harm could come from an alliance?

If your mind wasn’t made up to accept his offer, it would have been when he stood at the end of the tent, bathed in the orange light of the singular lantern illuminating the small space. Wearing only a pair of snug black undershorts, he was a vision. In his suit he looked scrappy, but like this he looked more virile. Broad at his shoulders and narrow at his hips, he cut a fine figure. You didn’t mean to stare, but it was as if he had his own magnetic field drawing you in. Sheepishly he sat on his own cot. “I’ve only got the one set of clothes. Never bunked with a woman in the crew like this before, I hope you don’t mind.”

You shook your head and he leaned back on both hands, smiling. “I’ve got to wash my clothes,” he explained, “you might as well throw yours in too.”

You only had one spare set of clothes, the thin tank top and leggings you wore and the warmer set that you had under your suit. It could all use a wash. Before you could list the pros and cons of your actions, before you could consider the outcome if this didn’t go like you thought it might, you stood up. You fetched the first set of clothes, then hesitated only a second before taking off what you had on. “Might as well start with everything fresh.” You smiled at your new partner.

Ezra exhaled roughly, not hiding the way his eyes wandered over your naked body. You bundled all your clothes together, crossed the short distance to the other side of the tent. He watched you in silence, chest rising and falling, breath catching on every inhale, cock responding instantaneously. “Might as well.” He agreed. One pointed downward flick of your eyes had him stripping off his final layer of modesty as well.

The snap might have been audible. You couldn’t tell. It could have been his patience, or it could have been the saturation sensor on the air filter. Once his lips were on yours it didn’t really matter. His kiss was suffocating and urgent. He held you tight, right arm banded around your waist, trapping his hard cock between your bodies, wetting your stomach with the sticky fluid he wept. His left hand cradled the back of your head, holding you just how he wanted you, you were dizzy with his kiss.

You melted into his embrace, his scent, his sounds, his radiating heat. You let him guide you onto his cot, onto the blanket that smelled like him. “Ezra” you whined, needing him to give you something to meet an intangible need that was thrumming in your core.

“Mm.” He mouthed against your neck and ear, across your collarbone, scratching your skin, leaving a tender path where his lips had been. “What are the odds, little pussycat? What are the odds that I found you here? Maybe the last two people on this moon. All of time and space, and I’m here with you, pretty girl.”

His words made your face feel warm and your heart pound harder. They hung heavy in the air around you as he shifted down the little bed, propping himself on his elbows to cup your breasts, gently squeezing them in his warm palms. He licked and sucked at your nipples, marveling at how they hardened, shiny with his spit, he blew across them, sending a chill up your spine that made you arch up into him.

“A girl like you shouldn’t be here.” His words were whispered against your stomach as he sank down further, “need to be looked after.” He kissed and licked the tender skin below your belly button. “Need me to take care of you, don’t you?” His voice was so soft and hypnotic. Your eyes met and he didn’t drop your gaze as he kissed your mound, your thighs, making your breath hitch when his tongue dipped into your slit. Ezra groaned at the taste of you, at how wet you were, how pliant to his will.

“Ezra” was the only language you spoke, slurring it as you threaded your hand through his hair, stroking the little patch of white with your thumb while his own was slipping up and down through your folds, spreading your slick over every velvet ripple. You rolled your nipple between your fingers and felt as if you were being taken up a mountain, up and up and up he pushed you, each lick, each kiss a step closer to the peak, every breath and coo, every word of praise and pity brought you higher. His fingers found your entrance and pushed inside, making you cry out into the dim light of the stuffy tent.

Ezra watched with his cheek on your thigh as you rocked your hips against his hand, searching for release. He could do this thing all night, making you a boneless little mess, making you cry just for him, he liked the power. He wasn’t a cruel man, though, and he showed you how merciful he was when he returned the flat of his tongue to your clit then sucked the swollen bud between his lips and he curled his fingers inside you, sending you over the edge of unmatched pleasure.

Cum dripped over Ezra’s knuckles as he watched you ride out your orgasm, and he considered bringing his hand to your mouth to see if you’d lick it clean, but he thought better of it, wiping it on his blanket instead. Another time, he thought. How he would love to see your pretty face painted up with his seed.

•••••

“Do you think this was meant to happen, Ezra?” You asked him, nipping at his chin as he held you, tucked against his chest on your cot. “Were we destined to find each other out here?”

You felt his warm breath against your hair as he thought. “I think the stars aligned in our favor, and fortune is all but assured.”

Sleep came easily in Ezra’s strong arms, safe and secure, knowing tomorrow would be a new start.

ACT II: Wild and Woolly

Daylight didn’t look much different from night in Ezra’s tent. Light filtered in through the leaves of the trees and the accumulated dust just enough to let you know that the sun had risen. The soft orange glow isn’t what woke you, though.

It was the heavy weight on your back, hot and crushing, it wrapped around you as you slept half on your stomach. As your groggy mind filled in the details of the last day, you felt the weight shift and wheeze. Ezra. He wasn’t a dream. He was real and he was here and he was nearly on top of you. With every movement his grip around you tightened. One arm was under your neck, with a hand anchored to your shoulder, the other was around your waist, fingers tucked posessively into the front of your panties. You couldn’t tell if he was awake yet, so you stayed still, hoping he would stay just like this a while longer.

You grew wetter while you tried not to move, savoring the tension, feeling the firm length of him on your thigh, listening to his ragged breathing. It would take so little to just shift over a bit and let it rest between your thighs. Your mind wandered to distant times and places, places where the two of you had pulled every bit of aurelac from this miserable place, socked away a fortune beyond your wildest dreams, and lived together forever, indulging in every possible pleasure. You thought of how he might look with the juice of some exotic fruit dripping down his chin as you sat astride him, jewels even rarer than the ones you’d found all hung about your neck, his cock inside you, deep as he could get, drawing orgasm after shaking orgasm from each other on the plushest bed money could buy. Two hedonists, drunk on their spoils.

You imagined what his cock might look like. It felt heavy against you now, but was it thick? Was he uncut? What did he look like when he took it in his own hand? Would he look into your eyes while he worked his length with familiar strokes until he made himself come? Would he bite his lip or would he moan? The image you crafted of him with cum dribbling over his knuckles, onto the drab green of his environmental suit made you clench. Suddenly, seeing how he looked when he came was the most important thing you could think of. Damn the aurelac.

“What are you dreaming about?” He murmured against your neck, snapping you suddenly from your daydream. “It must be good, the way you’re twitching.” When you didn’t answer he rocked his hips into you. “Want to know what I dreamed about? Hm? I dreamed about a lake. It was dark and deep and I could feel it callin’ to me until I walked into it. I couldn’t swim though, and I was about to drown until I felt you bucking into me.” That hand that was slipped into your underwear was cupping your mound now, fingers flat against your slit, giving you enough pressure to let you know he knew exactly what he was doing to you, that devil. His lips brushed against your ear as he dropped his voice even lower, “What do you think it means?”

The tent was stifling. Too hot to think, too close to him. You stammered, unable to formulate any logical response. The question forgotten, Ezra pushed into you, grinding his cock harder against the plush of your ass as his hand slipped lower, dipping into your wet folds to spread your slick messily over your pussy, making circles with his flattened fingers. Twice he circled your entrance before returning to your throbbing clit, teasing you with the promise of more, making you whine and cant your hips into his touch before he pulled his hand back, sucking his wet fingers into his mouth with an exaggerated hum of satisfaction and smack of his lips. Obscenity was second nature to him, it seemed.

“Guess we will have to think on it. Get suited up. Time to go find our paydirt.” With a gentle smack to your ass with his wet hand, he stood and went about his routine, packing his kit, scrubbing filters, cleaning his rail gun, and fastening his helmet on. You watched as he busied himself, not daring to finish what he had started, even if you could feel your heart beating in your core.

Trudging back through the thick vegetation, you listened to Ezra breathe and murmur his promises to you. You walked a few paces ahead of him and he covered you from behind, admiring the way the curves of your ass and hips filled out your suit. They weren’t made for figures like yours, and he was grateful to get to watch how you strained against the thick material. He dreamed of peeling it back off you and memorizing your shape with his hands, that he might be able to remember how you felt one day after you’re gone, when he’s alone in the tent, fucking his hand and dreaming of the lost girl of the green.

For what felt like hours you trekked through the forest, dispassionately studying the moss, the ferns, the vines, the flora and fauna of this strange place with the poison dust that glittered all around you. You ambled along as Ezra prattled on about his crew, his ship, his trials and tribulations, exaggerated for dramatic effect you were sure. It didn’t matter, because you liked his voice. It was so rich and thick, and his inflection and cadence made everything so much more exciting. His foreign drawl was a viscous thing that washed over you, warmed you, disarmed you. It was an elixir he administered with practiced precision for maximum effect. He knew exactly the dose to put you under his spell.

When you make it to a small clearing, you see the telltale signs of an aurelac deposit, the earth just slightly raised in small clusters. Anyone with an untrained eye would have noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but you and Ezra spotted it immediately. Excitement hummed between you when your eyes met his, dark and shining.

“Look At this. Look at this!” He dragged out the last syllable, rocking back on his heels, he had to stop himself from diving in, extirpating the first heavy node on his own. He took a breath. You’d been cautious, moving slowly and quietly, checking your channels and covering your tracks as you hunted a nest of the fabled root pearls. It was easier to work with a partner, you had to admit. Alone you always had one eye out for danger, and both hands in the ground. Clearly your system wasn’t foolproof, as Ezra had managed to catch you unawares. It still stung to remember your failure. It hurt to know you really couldn’t do it on your own. How few cycles had it taken for this man to find you and take you for his own, to decide for you that you needed him? There was no time to rehash your mistakes, though. You’d wear them with pride.

Ezra paced, checking vantage points around you as you set up. He reminded you of a panther, with his eyes focused and his movements smooth and sure. Your body responded to him, breath quickening and pussy clenching around nothing. You watched and admired how easily he commanded this place that to you seemed untamable, unknowable, so liable to chew you up if it just had the chance. Ezra just made himself at home here. Determination took hold in your chest. Letting your hips sway more than was absolutely necessary, you went about your own unsophisticated routine for setting up your dig. Your laser scalpel, fazer, forceps, diffuser,and tray were arranged on the ground and you were ready.

At Ezra’s assurance that the way was clear, you began the intensive process of harvesting aurelac. First reaching into the ground and locating a node, then clicking on your scalpel to open its fibrous husk. Carefully, you dissolve the membrane inside, and feeling the weight of Ezra’s stare, you barely breathe as you excise the carrom blister- the trickiest part. These things never come away easily, necessitating a firm hand and a decisive slash. One slip of the hand here could compromise the pull. You can’t afford to waste precious time or ruin even the smallest Aurelac pearl. You didn’t need to be reminded that your ability here was the linchpin in the whole operation. Dousing the gem in fazer solution to finalize the process, holding up your bounty for Ezra to see. It was a beautiful specimen. Roughly the size of an egg, and glowing with amber flecks from within. A low whistle came over the radio. “That’s a decent pull, Pussycat. Very nice indeed. I think you better stow that one away for yourself. A little reward.”

Riding high on your first triumph, you tuck the gem in a small case and stash it on the arm pouch of your suit. Ezra’s praise stayed with you as you worked, not bothering to mute yourself so he could hear your panting and groaning as you worked. You knew he could hear you even if he couldn’t see you, and you could hear as he breathed. He was relatively silent for a while as you worked, quickly filling the first collection case and the second, and almost all of a third. The fertile nest had proven itself to be deep and generous. You tried hard to not add up what it all might be worth. It was a lot. A voice inside your head urged you to snap it all up and run. Take it all for yourself. Figure out your own way home. You could buy a space in steerage on any working ship. If you just had Ezra’s rail gun. If he didn’t see your trophy cases, if you could hide them out of sight until he was asleep, if you could get his gun…the plan wasn’t to be.

When he did speak, it nearly caught you by surprise. You were reaching deep into the ground, fingers stretching and fumbling for a bulb when he came across.

“I’m watching you, pussycat. Don’t think about runnin’. I’ll chase you and I’ll catch you every time. I know you haven’t forgotten our deal. I bet you haven’t forgotten how good I can treat you, either. How I’m going to take care of you. I bet you’re still wet from this morning.”

How could you not be? You’d been wet since before he was even awake, wetter when you could feel him watching the sway of your hips as you walked through the forest, and wetter still when your mind swam with dirty thoughts of him taking you right here on the ground.

“Of course.” You answered breathily, looking around to find him a little ways up the ridge to the west of you, his rail gun in one hand, and palming his cock through his suit.

“You tasted so good last night, I can still feel you on my lips, got me aching for more of you.” Your soft whimper in his earpiece egged him on. “Are you going to be good for me? Let me touch you again? You want to feel how hard you’ve got me? What a desperate man you’ve made of me?”

You could hear the way he was fighting to maintain composure and it ate away at your own ability to focus on your delicate work, the reason you were here in the first place. “I want to be good, Ezra.”

Had you been closer you could have seen the way his lip curled into a half smile, just this side of sinister. “Pack up. We’re done.”

By the time you’d gathered and hastily packed everything, Ezra was at your side, shouldering your pack and one of the cases while you took the others. You’d only started to walk back toward the tent when he stopped and turned toward you, tapping his visor against yours, finding your eyes in the dim light. “Follow me and stay close.” Your heart picked up at the change of plans. The twisted path he picked wound up and back down into a hollow in the hills. There, looking battered and abandoned, sat a small ship. It was an early model, a Testin Screamer that was popular back at the beginning of the rush. It looked like it belonged here in the verdant landscape.

The interior was cleaner than you expected, bright and tidy, with the cabin lights and filter in proper order, humming along like it could lift off with the flip of a switch and get you as far as the outer reaches of Spiria if you wanted, maybe further. Awe and confusion collided, giving way to your anxiety again. “Ezra what is this?” You were afraid to ask anything else, not wanting to hear any answers that didn’t suit you.

He didn’t answer at all, though. He just pulled off his helmet and the cumbersome filter rig he wore, dropping them on the floor, eager to get to you and divest you of the same. Your helmet first, then the zippers and snaps, heavy handed and without finesse he stripped you down, leaving you in your panties, suit crumpled around your ankles.

“Ezra” you tried again as he tugged his own zipper down, grunting into your neck as he kissed, hungry and wet from your shoulder to your ear, pinching softly at the side of your breast. He stopped only to free his arms, “My ship.” He finally explained as he stepped on your suit and pulled your legs free in turn before kicking his own aside. “Just needs a starter. All the works are in order, if we can trade some of our aurelac for the right part, we will be creamy. You and I.” He spoke tenderly and earnestly, smoothing your hair, leaving you no space to question, only to trust and abide.

Your partnership with Ezra, enigma that he was, seemed to be ordained. Your cooperation was irrelevant to Kevva’s designs. Ezra is here, you’ve got enough aurelac to give you a life of ease, and now, it seemed, you even had the ship that would take you to that life. It was intoxicating. His scent, the warmth of the air in the hull, the way his grip on your waist tightened as he sucked your stiff nipple into his mouth. It could be so easy to give in when he eased into a seat next to the beeping, humming control panel, pulling you against his chest, sticky with sweat. So easy when his cock was against your belly to just give yourself to him. Let him take what he wanted and sate himself. Something told you though, that he needed the chase. He’s a hunter. Too long without a challenge and he might grow restless and unpredictable. He needs a little fight to keep him sharp. The glimmer in his eyes, when you tried to twist out of his grasp was the confirmation.

“Don’t fight me, kitten.” He warned, pulling you tighter against him, squeezing and lifting to grind your mound against his length. “I can make this wholly enjoyable for you. Let me.” Clearly unsatisfied with your soft eyed silence, he brought his hand down on your ass, making you cry out, more from surprise than pain. Before the sting subsided he repositioned you so your slick cunt was against his thigh. “You want to come? Let me see you take it.”

You started with a timid roll of your hips, watching him watch you as you moved against him, spreading your arousal over his thick muscle. “That’s it. Make a mess. Filthy.” His fingertips dug into your hips as he guided you faster, harder against him. Ezra panted along with you, sweat dampening his hair and running down his neck. “Don’t stop. I know you just want to come. Come for me and I’ll give you what you really want.” He watched your face with parted lips and furrowed brow as you inched closer, rutting against him, desperate, grinding your clit with every backward motion. His hand moved to your breasts, plucked at your nipples, splayed over your chest, felt the pounding of your heart, moved to your neck, your jaw, where his thumb rested on your bottom lip, swiping over it until you opened and let him press it in against your tongue. As you sucked his thumb, the coil that had been winding low in your belly finally snapped. His thumb muffled your cry and his fingers tapped against your cheek.

Without a chance to catch your breath, he held out his hand to you. “Spit.” He looked at you expectantly. “Look at me, pussycat. Look how hard I am. This is because of you. Now, what are you going to do about it?” You let a pool of saliva drip onto his palm, and he spread it over his cock. It was every bit as big as you’d imagined, and beautiful, heavy and thick, foreskin sliding as he stroked himself, revealing a fat and leaking tip. “You’re going to be good and you’re going to get on your knees and help me get it good and wet. The wetter it is, the better it’s gonna feel in that tight cunt. Go on.”

Settled between his knees you couldn’t help but question how you’d gotten here. You felt as if you had been funneled straight to this wild, woolly, articulate man, still a mystery to you but joined now it seemed, the aurelac a contract between you, your alliance more than business. Here now, his throbbing turgid member in your hand, and him, smiling or smirking down at you as you licked lewdly, eyes half lidded, following the hard ridge onto the head where you swirled your tongue. When you worked him into your mouth you felt him jerk, whining softly. His taste was salty and mild, smooth on your tongue and nice. It felt right and good to suck his cock. You lost yourself in his pleasure, varying the speed and depth that you took him, cradling his balls in your palm. You didn’t look to see his face, you didn’t see him bare his teeth. You only felt him tensing and squirming, then his hand in your hair as he pulled you off of him and covered your mouth with his own, kissing you hungrily.

“Don’t get carried away. I’m going to fill you up,” he looked from your eyes to your swollen lips, “but not here.” The implication in the low rumble of his words silenced your mind. There was nothing there but him.

“Ezra.”

“I wanted to bide my time, be a gentleman for you.” Ezra laid you down on the floor, caging you in with his broad, silver scarred shoulders and his strong arms. “The instant I saw you I knew I had to have you, gentle girl. Knew you’d be what I needed.” He dragged the wide head of his cock over your folds, smearing your wetness over your puffy lips and teasing your clit before he lined himself up, but left you in agony as he refused to go any further. No, instead he shifted his knee up under your thigh so he could hold himself up and thumb slow circles over your clit. “I tried to be a good man.” It wasn’t enough. He was so close. He pressed into you a fraction of an inch and then retreated, giving you a delicious pressure but nothing to clench on. You cried and writhed, lifting your hips uselessly, trying to will him into you. Ezra just chuckled. “If you want mercy, you better beg.”

“Ezra!! Ezra, please! Fuck. Fuuuck! Please Ezra, just fuck me!”

“Shhhh.” He hushed you sympathetically, “You can have it.” In one smooth motion he was fully seated, pushing the air from your lungs with all his weight seemingly focused on spearing you. As deep as he could get, Ezra pulsed his hips, making sure you felt every bit of him before he drew back like a bow and plunged forward again, loving the sound you made as he filled you again. He set a slow pace, and you moaned softly at the stretch and fullness of him inside you. The way he dragged against your clit with every being of his hips. Your hands were restless, moving from his shoulder to his neck, up the back to grasp his short, tender curls. Impulsively, you pulled them and were rewarded with a much harder snap of his hips. The force of his movements pushed you up, a problem he remedied by dropping to his elbows, closing you in, holding you close to kiss your neck and breathe into your ear all that he had been consuming him. “Needed you.” He panted. “So good. Taking everything I give, let me do anything. Let me make you use you up…” He trailed off as his thrusts grew sloppy, his tempo uneven. All you could do under his heavy weight was hold on, his neck, his arms, whatever you could reach and your legs around his waist. You gave him one more fluttering orgasm around his cock before the wet sounds of your bodies and the moaning and panting slowly faded as he spilled inside you, filling you with his spend.

All was hazy as you drifted back to yourself. Ezra had stayed inside you, nuzzling you’d neck and jaw, kissing the side of your face. Getting off made him docile and sentimental.

“You don’t belong out here.” He reminded you again. “What if I hadn’t found you? Do you know what could happen to a woman in the green? One sweet like you? As pretty?” He shook his head in disgust.

“You did find me though, Ezra. You’re taking care of me. You found me and we found aurelac and now we just have to get off this moon. We can do what we like now. We never have to put on another helmet again. We never have to leave Lao if we don’t want to. We can swim,” you kissed his bottom lip, “we can eat.” You kissed his nose, “and we can fuck.”

Ezra nodded, sighing and releasing the tension from his shoulders.

That night you tucked yourselves into a bunk on the ship. The filter was better here, and the bed was a better fit for you both, though he still curled around you, tucking your body into his, letting you sleep soundly in his arms.

•••••

Morning on the ship was bright and clear, the sunlight streaming in from a large window above the control panel. You slept better than you had in ages, yawning and stretching and smiling to yourself. It took several blissful moments to register that you were alone.

You called softly for Ezra, hoping he would come if he heard the needy lilt in your voice. Hoped he would remember that you were warm and sleepy and naked in his bed. Hoped he’d come and show you how he thought you ought to be treated.

But he didn’t come.

And he wasn’t in the ship. Not in the cockpit, not in the small hold below.

Panic gripped you as you put on your suit, realizing his was gone and so was the rail gun. You realized that you hadn’t seen which compartment he had

Locked your aurelac in and that you didn’t have a key to open them anyway. Where had he stowed your kit?

Cursing him, you dashed out of the ship, eyes fixed on the swirling dust so you wouldn’t cry. The tent, you decided, was the first place to go. Your tent was there, you could take it maybe you could find Ezra and get your thrower back. Maybe he would be stupid enough to give it to you so you could shoot him. Your heart ached at the thought.

ACT III: Gut The Fencer

Blood rushed through your ears, pounding with your heart as you darted back up the little hill, not caring to cover your tracks. Let them find him! you thought. If you got to him first it wouldn’t matter. Your anger and rage gave way to humiliation and despair. You’d trusted him and you’d been had. What chance did you have now of ever getting back home? Ezra was gone. Gone the aurelac, gone your kit, soon you’d be gone too, one way or another.

You felt sorry for yourself. You thought of something else your grandmother used to say. “Broken hearts want broken necks.” It ached to think of her. You cried, unable to wipe away your tears, they dripped down your cheeks. Your pace slowed as you tried to follow the almost imperceptible desire path that had been made back toward Ezra’s tent. You had to watch your step, ever vigilant of the spore producers that could overwhelm your filter, the rocks and vines, the biting insects, the animals in the trees. So many threats lurked.

You were glad the BG line was shutting down. This Kevva forsaken moon was cursed. Everyone who came here was cursed. Nothing good was here. You kicked and shoved at the branches in your path and as if on cue, you snagged your boot on a vine and fell forward until you were abruptly snatched back up by your arm.

“What are you doing out here?” That familiar voice hissed. “Where are you going, pussycat? Where are you running with no thrower?” His voice was low, angry with a top note of suspicion. Jerking from his grip, your spun to face him, hurt and seething. “YOU left ME, Ezra! I don’t have a thrower because YOU took it. YOU took MY aurelac!” There was more to scream at him, but your voice was cracking so you charged at him instead. You could take out his knees, knock him down, disarm him, and dispatch him. That was the best plan. It was your only plan until your shoulder met his chest and he barely wavered. He just put an arm around you and dared to laugh. “Pussycat. I met with the Sater. They are early risers and I didn’t want to disturb you. I should have told you I was leaving. I apologize for the oversight.”

You softened against him, trying to work out if you should believe him or not.

“Why’d you meet the Sater?” It came out more accusatory than you meant. Ezra smiled at you, wide and boyish. “Let’s discuss this back on the ship. While we walk you can tell me where you were going to so fast that you nearly rolled down this ravine?” He took your hand and led you, looking back every few steps to watch with a sympathetic scowl as you told him how you were frightened when you woke up alone, how you thought he’d used you, abandoned you, left you to die.

By the time you made it back to the ship, apologies were made and re-made, vows to never leave you again sworn, and looks of devotion and care and desire exchanged.

nside the ship, your suits were stripped, his hands cupped your face and yours twisted in his soft undershirt.

Your back met the paneled wall as Ezra’s forehead fell

against yours, he lifted you and held you in place against him. “I’ve got to tell you. I wanted to wait until

It was all finished, but I can’t wait. I went to finalize an entente with the Sater. Our smallest gem for a starter that I can hot wire to this derelict ship. It won’t be long.” You were speechless. It was too good to be true. “Ezra…” you started, but he stopped you with a kiss. “You need to understand me now, Pussycat. I found you for a reason. I’m not keen to give you up. The aurelac is yours, this ship is yours, and you are mine.” He punctuated the last word with a firm push against your wet pussy, making you whine and rock your hips. “This pussy is mine. These tits are mine. Your hands, your mouth, all mine.” His cock swelled against your mound, more precum beading at the swollen head.

“You’re going to let me have you however I want, and I’m going to give you a little present.” You nodded, servile and soft for him.

He moved you back into the bunk where you woke up alone, and called you his sweet girl, his good girl, his only one. He kissed you and squeezed you, made you putty in his rough hands. Arousal dampening your panties so that they stuck to you, translucent, making you throb just to this side of discomfort. He sat up and pulled you across his lap, ass up, legs splayed. He murmured something unintelligible and loving caressed the back of your thighs, up over the swell of your ass, tugging your panties to wedge between your cheeks and pull taut against your aching pussy. Back down, he massaged you, everywhere but where you needed him most. Down your inner thighs, nudging against your puffy lips. As one hand made it’s way up your calf, the other kneaded your ass and inched down to tease at the wet fabric over your entrance.

Circling your ankle in his hand, he pulled your foot toward him, bringing your toes to his mouth and sucking two at a time, making you jump in surprise at the strange sensation. No one had ever done such a thing. It felt dirtier than anything else he had done. While he sucked and hummed around the little digits, his other hand played lazily with your pussy, smacking it gently through the wet fabric, pressing the saturated cotton into your folds to show every detail of your center. He finally turned loose of your foot, but returned his attention ten-fold back to your cunt. Both hands were on you, rubbing, pressing, massaging, smearing slick as he praised your obsequiousness.

You tried hard to keep your breathing steady, so worked up but with no relief, you pinched, pulled, rolled your nipples and keened, rolling your hips looking for more anything. Ezra answered your prayers with one more loud, stinging smack to your pussy.

“Are you ready for your present now? I think you are, if the way you’re soaking my leg is any indication.” You thought he might leave you, go get your gift, but he pulled a small case from under the pillow. An aurelac case. An odd gift considering the amount of aurelac you had struck, but you watched with curiosity as he slid the case in front of you, leaving you across his lap, adjusting his cock.

As expected, inside you found a small aurelac pearl. It was shiny, as if it had been polished and refined, making the reticulation of the amber inside sparkle. It was lovely. “Thank you, Ezra. It’s beautiful.” You twisted back to kiss him, but his eyes had darkened and he had begun running your through again. “Take it out.” He instructed. You carefully plucked the litttle gem from

The case and saw it had been carved. It looked like a spade, an objet d’art. You turned it in your hand, appreciating the fine detail of the shaping and the way the small stand at the bottom was shaped into a perfectly flat circle. It would be perfect on your desk. “Do you recognize it? That’s the first gem you harvested. The Sater are deeply religious, but they do undertake art as well. When you agreed to be mine, well, I couldn’t resist. And now you’ll have a little memento from this dig and from me. Wear it in good health, Pussycat.”

“Wear it?” Was it jewelry? “Ezra, I don’t understood. It’s very pretty though, very sweet of you. Thank you.” You reached for the box to tuck the gem away for safe keeping, but Ezra took it from your hand. “I’ll show you how you’re going to wear it for me. He closed the little sculpture in his hand, warming it as he resumed his ministrations. Sliding his fingers through your folds, brushing over your clit, teasing your entrance, he completed that circuit a few times while you rocked your hips slightly. On the last pass, he dragged a slick finger over your tighter hole. For the second time tonight he made you squirm. “Have you done this before?” He teased, and you shook your head. He dragged his middle finger through your folds and brought it up to join the first, pressing against your tight ring of muscle, you felt him move again, the rustle of fabric, and the snap of a lid. Unable to see what he was doing you could only guess what he was doing.

Soon enough the answer came in the form of a drip of cool liquid. It dripped down, mixing with your own arousal. Ezra spread it around and slowly, determinedly pressed the tip of his finger into your ass. You whined, he soothed you with his soft voice, his free hand rubbing your back gently as he worked. You weren’t aware of the effect it was having on him to be the first one to explore you this way, to have you so wrapped around his finger that you didn’t protest at all as he readied you for the next step. Adding more of the liquid and twisting his finger before joining it with another, the stretch was foreign and new, not exactly uncomfortable, your body seemed to adjust to each new thing he introduced, something you pondered on as he pressed further, sliding the two fingers in and out gently, shallowly, as he thumbed your clit. Your pussy ached for attention.

When Ezra decided you were ready, he positioned the aurelac where his fingers had been inside you, gave a few testing presses, added more liquid, and set to work, pressing, twisting, easing the gem into your asshole as you whined and whimpered, until it was settled, just the wide base remaining. Ezra admired his handiwork. “You’re a marvel. How’s it feel? Big?” You nod, “Yeah, Ez. Big. Full.” Ezra pressed on the little toy, watching with glee as it sank in.

He rolled you carefully to your back, soaking in your naked body, spread out and open for him, and him alone. He bent to kiss and suck at your nipples, up your chest, and licked into your mouth, kissing you deeply, with more passion than you’d ever experienced. The kind you thought existed only in movies. But here he was, so giving and tender, so mad for you and your body, so eager to give and take. You were breathless, both of you when he pulled away, searching your face, staring at your lips. “Open up.” You obeyed. “Stick out your tongue.” You were unsure, but you obeyed. Grinning, he spit onto your tongue. Your eyes went wide as it dripped to the back of your tongue. “Don’t swallow it. Leave it right there while I take more of what’s mine.” You could only nod, breathing hard through your nose as he dragged his cock through your folds, smacking the head against your clit for good measure before easing into your pussy, aware of how much tighter you were, how sensitive you were with your aurelac in place. He moaned, feeling his cock rub against that defiled gem while he fucked your cunt. Slow and easy, gentle, he rocked back and forth, listening to your cries and moans, knowing you couldn’t make the noise you wanted to with his spit in your mouth. “Swallow it.”

Watching you follow his every instruction without question, a toy for him made him hard like never before. He fucked into you faster, spurred on by your uninhibited sounds. He slid his hand between your bodies to tend to your clit, giving you the last little push you needed to come. “Yes! Yes!” You squealed, bucking your hips, squeezing your tits, reaching the highest height you could imagine. You were hot and cold, boneless and rigid, you were nothing until he was inside you. Ezra hadn’t stopped his own pursuit, just slowed until you settled, but now he was on the hunt again, bouncing your ties with every thrust, making wet, sticky sounds fill the air with his sneer. Remembering last night, you reached up and took a handful of his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, never letting go until he was coming with a strangled shout, leaving you dripping his cum. It was exhausting to love Ezra. Terrifying to admit that you loved him. Such a short time in the grand scheme, a tiny tick on the timeline of what would be the rest of your lives together.

You tangled your limbs together, holding each other, whispering sweet things, kissing for a long while until he sat up. “I’ve got one more thing for you, pussycat. Do you trust me?” You promised that you did and he left, rummaged a minute before returning, holding a short length of rope. He climbed in above you and kissed you again, the sort of kiss you wanted to feel forever on your lips. “I want to tie you up. Are you going to let me?” Happy to please him, you held out your wrists. He kissed each one, and crossed one over the other, thing an intricate knot that looked like a bow. You liked being a little gift for him. “One more thing.” He whispered, and ducked out while you waited for his return, eager to see what he had in store, wiggling to feel his gift inside you. You heard movement, and opened your eyes, expecting Ezra, but seeing a figure in black, a Sater. You screamed for Ezra to come save you, but he stepped into view with his hand on the sater’s shoulder, starter in his hand. “You really shouldn’t trust anyone out here, Pussycat.

[ofmdrecaps]

07/03/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Leslie Jones; Ruibo Qian; Dominic Burgess; Samba Schutte; Logie Awards; AdoptOurCrew; Auxillery Wardrobe Zine; Teal Oranges & Garlic Soup Week Spotlight Cont'd; Fan Spotlight; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika

New month, new blog! Thanks everyone, as you probably can tell there's a new blog for the recaps! I'm doing this to allow for some more silly shenanigans to happen on my main, but also keep the recaps available and more easily accessible to those who want them! For the first few weeks I'll be reblogging them from main, but then will eventually move to just here so as not to overwhelm anyone following. Thanks so much for reading! I love doing these and I was actually surprised how many people followed! I didn't realize so many people were reading, so tysm that warms my heart and made my day!

== Rhys Darby ==

Rhys will be join Baron Vaughn and Rory Scovel on AfterMidnight with Taylor Tomlinson on July 8th, 3 PM PST in Los Angelos, CA! Are you in the area? You can request tickets on their website!

Source: 1iota's Instagram

Next up-- Peacock has posted an exclusive clip of the upcoming The Hungry Games: Alaska's Big Bear Challenge-- starring the voice of our very own Rhys Darby!

== Taika Waititi ==

Awesome new promo for Time Bandits! I'm gonna keep reminding you because I'm actually super psyched for this. July 24th on Apple TV!

Source: Matt_Grace_Photography

== Leslie Jones ==

Leslie out with the LA Sparks! <3 Also, did you know Leslie will be voicing a character in the New Hulu series Hit Monkey? I didn't know! New seasons starts July 15th!

Source: LA Sparks IG / JoshuaGordon

== Ruibo Qian ==

Our Pirate Queen is going to be taking on the role of Ms. Sherlock Holmes in Ms.Holmes & Ms.Watson in APT 2B at the Old Globe Theatre in San Deigo CA! You can buy tickets for July 27th, opening day -- or any of the showings here!

Source: OldGlobeTheatre Instagram

== Dominic Burgess ==

Dominic is gracing us once again with cat pics. I love it <3

Source: Dominic Burgess' Twitter

== Samba Schutte ==

More pictures with Samba at Dancing with Fire LA with the cast / crew of Advanced Chemistry!

Source: alecmoore219's Instagram

== Logie Award Nominations ==

REMINDER! Our beloved Mads, aka Eddie Redcliffe in Deadloch, aka The Baddest MF in Tasmania, has been nominated for a 2024 Logie for Best Lead Actress! So was Kate Box, her costar, and Deadloch was nominated for Best Scripted Comedy Program!

-- and guess what? It's done by vote! If you feel so inclined, please take a moment to go and vote for our dear Archie/Deadloch (or Dulcie whomever you'd like)! https://vote.tvweeklogies.com.au/ Note: You do need to use your email to submit, just FYI!

== Adopt Our Crew ==

Looks like something exciting will be coming soon from @adoptourcrew! I think I might have an idea what it may be related to...

Source: Adopt Our Crew Twitter

== Auxiliary Wardrobe Zine ==

There's a new non-profit charity zine starting up-- in honor of our beloved Captain Stede and OFMD!

"From his flamboyant coats to his sword-slashed shirts, we want to celebrate EVERY way that Stede and fashion come together! Whether this be a canon look you're fond of, his job as a luxury fashion designer in an AU, or Stede in a style of clothing you personally love (or lack of clothing… pinups anyone?!) we encourage contributors to make this prompt their own. This zine will be a digital-only PDF and will consist of a SFW edition and a NSFW edition featuring fanart and fanfic. All proceeds for the zine will go to Care for Gaza."

Want to learn more? You can visit their carrd.co below for scheduling and FAQ's!

Info & FAQ: https://auxiliarywardrobezine.carrd.co

Artist & Writer Signups will start July 6, 2024!

Follow them on Instagram and Twitter!

Source: The Auxiliary Wardrobe: A Stede Bonnet Zine

== Teal Oranges & Garlic Soup Week Spotlights ==

Teal Oranges & Garlic Soup Week may be over, but that doesn't mean the spotlights have to end! Tonight we have the fantastic @hameko1019! I absolutely adore her style and use of color! You can check her work out on Hameko1019's Twitter! Thank you again to @garlicsoupweek for the wonderful prompts!

Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Bonus

Source: Hameko1019's Twitter

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Tonight's cast card by our fantastic @melvisik is Jordan Feldman who "was listed as 'Heavily Made-Up Man' in The Best Revenge is Dressing Well."

Source: @melvisik's Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Well lovelies, you've made it half way through another week. Only half more to go-- for those of you in the UK, good luck at the elections! For those in the US, tomorrow is July 4th, and while I know there are mixed feelings this year in the US, please remember to take some time to relax and enjoy a day off if you have it.

You're doing so very well friends. There is SO much going on in the world, so much going on in the fandom, so much going on in your lives. But you are still kicking, and I'm so very proud of you for that. If you need to take a break-- do it. Give yourself some grace and get some rest, the world will still be there in a few days. If you've already done that and you're taking some time to yourself-- great job-- you deserve it. Remember that we will still be here, and we will still love you when you get back. Ed and Stede? Still in love when you get back. They're off terrorising some poor patron of their Inn with stories of being gut stabbed, or forcing them to watch a puppet show they came up with.

You're kicking ass at whatever struggles you are dealing with right now-- give yourself time to celebrate the fact you're surviving them. Rest well lovelies, see you soon <3

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Tonight's theme is these two goof balls singing. Someone help me find Taika singing Queen, cause then we'll have some gif smushes <3 Tonight's gifs courtesy of @celluloidbroomcloset and @eddie-redcliffe!!

[ramcharantitties]

Yes, Officer

Part-1

S/n: I'm sorry for this week old fic but here's the first part. I didn't know if this was good enough to post but I didn't want to go ia, so. Hope you like it <3

Angel stared out the window, the falling autumn leaves setting hopelessness in her heart. Nothing would help these days, the growing anxiety taking over everything in her mind. She was too young to be this stressed, only in her 20's, yet the weight crushing her shoulders was leaving her crying at odd hours.

"My daughter must be the next to reign the empire of Delhi", her father's words never left her mind, engraved like hot iron on a child's skin. Delhi, the bustling city felt more developed in the last decade than ever. Angel wondered if Delhi was teasing her too, telling her she wasn't apt enough to rule a city. With the oncoming opportunities, came oncoming threats- both to Delhi and her throne.

No matter what she said, this decision was strictly taken by her parent's old advisor- who often acted like your guardian. Dada didn't pester, the stubborn man in his 60's, ready to stab everyone in sight ever since the incident. There were oppositions who believed you were not the correct choice for the throne- but your father knew better. To burden young shoulders for the people than to wait for a messiah, if he comes. She laid back on the chair, sighing. They must be here anytime.

When Angel's dinner was poisoned two days back, her first thought was what her parents must think when she finally died. Would they be proud, or still love her as their daughter, or they wouldn't care, that she was a disappointment? Eventually a servant was passing by, at such ungodly hour, that saved Angel. She was rewarded with a prize money worth 500 Rs. Ever since, Dada made a decision that a trained police officer, from the Indian Imperial Army must serve as your personal bodyguard for the next three months, until the next ruler of Delhi is decided. Angel made protests, proposed questions, and shared information against the decision but everything was futile. She finally slumped down, agreeing.

A whole human, trained, with potential- just to protect you? It seemed insensible. That man could probably save crowds of innocent people, or punish troops of criminal but he would just stand here, making sure if she had enough water or not. Angel held her head in her hands. She was happy in the back of her mind.

Ever since the parental figures disappeared, Angel only faced manipulation and mistrust in her life. It felt like a sin to make friends, to drink freely or enter crowds. And now that the election days are coming closer, she felt trapped in herself. Every single movement was noticed, and most likely followed. A bodyguard didn't sound half bad.

Angel could hear the frequent words of Dada down the hall, followed by another pair of steps. She stood up, quickly, smoothing out her dress. A firm knock on her door echoed. "Angel?" Dada called out, impatiently waiting. She opened the door of the room, moving away to let the guest enter. A man in his brown uniform entered, almost three inches taller than her when she was in heels. He smelt good. Angel stood behind them as Dada explained everything to him. From the back of his head, he looked strong and firm. Angel cocked an eyebrow. After all, why would a trained police officer agree to a job like this?

"Angel?" Dada called out again, his hand reaching where she stood. Angel pranced forward, to face them. If this was her bodyguard, she was in a trouble. His chest buffed out, his eyesight peeking over her. Handlebar moustache and long eyelashes. His upper lip was hidden by the hair, his beard clean shaved. Angel gulped, leaning on the table. She did not expect him to have such an effect on her. Angel, busy staring at the man, missed most of the details Dada dictated to him. She leant closer to him. "A. Ramaraju" she muttered to herself, before going back in her position so they wouldn't notice. Well, nothing misses from his eyes. Her eyes, finally turned to the elder guardian.

"This gentleman is your bodyguard. He's a strict police officer and he will be checking everything, from what you eat and drink, where you go, everything. Once the elections are over, you will have a team of bodyguards anyways. But he should be enough for now". Soon, Dada left, and the police officer made himself comfortable in front of her table.

"I don't expect you to be so formal with me" Angel looked at him up and down. "I am solely here for my job, ma'am" Ramaraju's voice had a dusky yet chocolaty tone. It was heavy, but not harsh. "Please introduce yourself" Angel sat her hip on the edge of the table. "Alluri Ramaraju, police officer in India-" "I know that" Angel interrupted the man. His gaze still hasn't lowered down to her, but he could see the diary in her hands. "You have, single handedly, caught a wanted person in a riot with almost the population of a town. And you injured many others. And this is the only most recent news of you, I can skip through various others" Angel peered up at him. "Are you going to tell me why you are really here?" "It has nothing to do with this job" Ramaraju's posture didn't budge. The stoic man, still as a statue.

Angel sighed, getting up. "I don't need a bodyguard" she stepped forward, taking a closer look at him. He smelt really, good. "You must talk to the-" "I don't need to talk to anyone" Angel said, trying to match his eye level. He wouldn't. "You're going to submit a report tomorrow that says how you don't want this duty and want to be back in the field. Is that clear?" Ram didn't answer, neither move. He stared straight ahead, unbothered. Angel took that as an acceptance, might as well be a surprise. "You may leave now" Angel went back to her work, sitting on the table, as Ram turned around and marched out of the room. That was the last of him she saw that day.

____________________________

Tagging: @ramayantika @yehsahihai @vijayasena @raat-baaki @nerdreader @panikk-attackkk @jkdaddy01

[angelinatoybox]

Please help me keep my apartment!

Hello!! My name is Jaszmine and I am asking for help so that I do not lose my apartment this month. I have another account on here but I am unfortunately too shy to ask for help but since I am in an emergency situation I can't afford to feel that way right now.

TLDR and gofundme link on the bottom:

To start, I was finally able to leave an abusive home that I lived in for the past 24 years. I got my first apartment in June and it was the first major thing I had ever done for myself. But unfortunately, a few days before I was about to move in, my big sister passed away. My life had been going further downhill since then. Two months prior to all of this, at my then new job, they had started extreme budget cuts which largely effected our hours. I am supposed to be full-time and worked 36 hours a week. Very shortly after I had gotten hired, my hours went down to 21 hours per week. (more below)

At first this was somewhat manageable, then coincidentally, two weeks after I had moved into my apartment and my sister had died, I had received an email telling me that my wages were soon to be garnished for student loans… STUDENT LOANS. They had informed me that they would be taking 25% from my already short paychecks- my checks that were already small due to them cutting hours. I had the organization that was garnishing me, under their advising, to send them my paystubs and expenses so that they can lower the percentage that were taking and/or completely stop- but they denied twice. Despite seeing how little my checks were compared to my rent, on top of my other utilities.

My account has been in overdraft for months. I am not able to get food for myself at all. I have applied for food stamps and have been denied twice. They said I make too much which is insane to me, because I have absolutely zero spending money. I don’t even have spare change.

I have applied for so many jobs ever since they have been cutting hours. I have been turned down by each and every one. I have two more job interviews coming up that I am PRAYING goes through because my whole situation literally depends on it. I have asked for more hours at work and they always respond that there are none to give and that there are absolutely no shifts to pick up. I have tried food pantries and I am unable to get transportation to go out there. I cannot even afford a bus pass.

In the past two weeks, I have already received an eviction notice on my door- and mind you, I JUST moved into this apartment. I have finally been able to get a court date to file for hardship for my wage garnishment case, and I am extremely anxious about how I am going to be able to make it there. I have no friends or family who live around me who are able to take me.

My next paycheck comes on the 31st of this month, and I already know that the very little that I am going to get with this check will be going entirely towards my rent. My electric, phone and water bill are going to be cut off and this will be another month that I have very little to no food in my fridge. I am just praying that its at least enough to cover my rent. I absolutely cannot afford to lose this apartment. Shelters are unfortunately not an option for me and I absolutely do not wish to go back to my previous residence. I'm hoping that this job I am interviewing for comes through because it really make all of the difference with how my current situation is going.

TDLR: I moved into a new apt in June, my work hours have been cut since April and my wages are getting garnished for student loans. I have little to no food and I am needing enough to cover the rest of my rent for the month of August.

Anything helps! And I am deeply grateful for everyone who donates and/or took the time to read this. Thank you!!

I can also take:

Chime and cashapp: $jpjpow

Paypal: @jaszminepowell

[walker-extended-universe]

4x06 Review

"We All Fall Down" was another pretty apt title and it only has me concerned for future episodes. The promo for this episode made me think it would be a lighter one but I really should've known better.

This time, I'm going to take this review in order of which plots occupy my brain, in order from least to most Brain Spin-age.

We're starting off with the only actually fluffy part of the episode: Liam and Ben! They don't have much of a role but it does well in progressing their relationship.

We start with Liam doing PT under Ben's supervision. When Cordell comes in to voice his concerns over Stella and August potentially avoiding him and Geri, Ben speaks up about Normal Teenager Behavior but lets Liam steer the conversation toward Cordell's own insecurities about his future.

Later in the episode, we get a sweet moment between them discussing their own future. Ben says he wants to quit his job at the liquor store and start doing event planning with Abby full time, which is likely going to lead to him moving to the ranch as well. Liam is happy about this but cautions him that eventually his parents are going to retire and Ben will probably have to take on more when that happens. Luckily for him, it seems Ben was aware of that and doesn't mind at all.

This was a sweet break in the middle of all the angst we go this episode. Speaking of....

Let's talk about what our Amateur Investigators were up to.

After a thrilling flashback of Hoyt stealing the necklace five years ago with his friend, Mehar, we find out that Stella and August have been continuing their search by asking Cordell and Geri pointed but non-suspicious questions and going on their own little adventures trying to find where Hoyt might have hid it. When Geri points them to Mehar, Stella sneaks his phone number out of Geri's contacts to set up a meeting.

While August is still mostly on board, he is starting to question if it's smart to do this on their own. Do they really want the first adult to ask for help to be a known criminal? Stella is too frustrated by the situation to really listen to him and insists she's all the adult supervision they need.

Side note: They're probably going to have to come clean eventually and I very much look forward to the fallout.

They get their meeting with Mehar but he's not inclined to help them. Fortunately, Stella thought ahead and decided to set him up for a robbery, prompting him to steal her wallet for her university ID to break into an exhibit.

They ditch family dinner for the robbery and Stella creates a distraction by blaming August for stealing her wallet so that she can approach Mehar and offer him help in exchange for information. This all miraculously goes off without a hitch, promptign Mehar to tell them everything he knows, which is unfortunately not much- except that he met with a man named Duke before fully ditching him and losing the necklace. That being, Duke Culpepper.

We get two more flashbacks that relate to this story. The first is a flashback of Hoyt meeting with "Duke". Cordell is 3 months undercover and he's not doing well, so he called Hoyt to ask him to deliver some letters to Stella and August, just in case. Hoyt takes the letters but refuses to deliver them, because Cordell will make it back.

The second flashback is Hoyt visiting Emily's grave with the necklace and running into Geri. I love a lot about this scene but the main things that stick out to me is 1) the reference to Hoyt and Emily having their own friendship outside of Geri and Cordell and 2) showcasing that Geri was clearly considering stepping out of her relationship with Hoyt before she'd even considered a relationship with Cordell. It's a nice touch.

Side note: We all agree Hoyt hid the necklace in Emily's grave, right?

We pick back up with the kids when they come home to their missed family dinner, which leads us right to our next plot: Cordell's inability to handle and empty nest and how he's taking that out on everyone else in his life.

In this episode, Cordell is excited at the prospect of asking Geri to move in. He's been trying to get this train rolling all of winter break but Stella and August seem to be avoiding him and he thinks it's because they don't like where his relationship with Geri is going. He tells them to be back for dinner that night as a last ditch effort to have this conversation and make it happen.

Unfortunately, they don't show up as they're busy with Other Things and Cordell starts letting some of his frustration show. Geri tries to calm him down and while they talk he lets it slip that he wants her to move in. Geri is initially ecstatic about this idea and accepts when he finally asks her.

But the night only gets derailed from there, both with James coming in and with the kids finally making their way home. Cordell is beyond pissed at them and starts finally letting some of his frustrations show. He admits that he never really agreed with letting them have their "space" and "independence" and just did it because he believed he should. He also lambasts them for having a "problem" with him and Geri getting more serious and announces that she WILL be moving in, no further discussion, which is a surprise to everyone in the room- including Geri. Stella and August try to get a word in but he's not having it, instead demanding that they both be home more because he's tired of them always running away.

Side note: Really proving your brother's point there Cordell.....

The next day he seems awfully proud of himself for how he handled all that and hands Geri a furniture catalog so that she can start decorating, which will surely make everything better. No way that could go wrong :)

Geri instead pumps the breaks on her moving in. She does want to move in, but she didn't want it to come out the way it did. She wanted Cordell to talk to his kids and get their blessing, not drop a bomb on their relationship. She says they'll talk when she gets back from OKC but he needs to get a handle on himself first.

This is, of course, not what Cordell wants to hear and shortly after she leaves, he starts gravitating toward James personal notes on the Jackal case.

Finally, we need to talk about James and how poorly he's handling this case.

We start this plot out with Cassie and Trey setting up a meeting room for the Jackal Survivors Network to meet with the rangers on the case. While they set up, they speculate about the nominations for the new lieutenant position. Before they can talk too much about it, they're interrupted by James who gives them the agenda for the day. Cassie will be meeting the JSN with him while Trey meets up with the crime labs to put together a psych profile with the new evidence they've received.

Later, we see the meeting isn't going too well but James seems to be mostly holding it together. During a break, Cassie approaches James about the new position and appears to think she's a shoe-in for the role. James firmly reminds her that he can't give her any guarantees, which Cassie takes offense too since she gave up a great opportunity with the FBI because he promised her more opportunities here.

Side note: between this scene and her reaction to Luna asking if she'd ever worked a serial killer case before, I have a feeling we're going to see her get her ego checked a bit later in the season.

In another scene, Trey also pokes the bear about the new position and James is just as cold about it, but Trey also notices that his captain isn't doing too well. He looks tired and unfocused. James assures him he's fine, but later we see that's not true when he shows up at the Walker ranch, drunk and officially kicked out of the house.

This is the lowest point we've seen James at so far and I have to admire Colby's acting in this scene. James explains that Kelly found out he broke his promise not to fall into drinking and kicked him out of the house in front of DJ. Cordell tries to assure him they can fix this and pick his friend back up, but James is self-aware enough to know it won't be that easy. He tells Cordell he's taking a step back from the case and asks him to take over, even leaving his personal notes in Cordell's hands. Cordell takes it and again tries to assure James that they can figure this out; he picked himself up once, he can do it again.

The next day at HQ, James is looking better. Trey and Cassie both try to apologize for overstepping about the lieutenant position and he assures them that it's fine. In fact, they're both in the running. They just need to prove themselves worthy.

This episode was so much more intense than I was expecting and, since we've reached the halfway point, I can only imagine it's going to get more intense from here. Our two biggest plots are ramping up and, looking at the synopses for upcoming episodes, it's only getting crazier. And I have so many questions for how that's going to work. Is the Jackal really related to this mess with the necklace? Will the necklace be found and will that solve Stella's problems? Will Mehar return? Will Geri return after the mess Cordell made? How will James bounce back from his rock bottom? Will Cordell manage to keep a balance where James failed? Who is going to be lieutenant and why was this position not open before? And why should it be Randall?

See y'all next week

[door]

1! 6! 11! 25! 26! 33! 41! 42! 48! 52! 54! 69! hoo boy that's a lot. also how's 30s

hi! oh wow that is a lot. enjoy??? (for the 30s ask meme)

gonna answer the last thing first because honestly i've loved my 30s, and since i'm going into my final year of them it seems apt to reflect. i figured out i was queer like a month before i turned 30, so my 30s have been about queerness and community, about taking risks on things that previously i thought i were too old for. i moved cities and careers, i got a masters degree, i found sooooo much friendship and interests and hobbies and got every single one of my tattoos. i am more myself now than i have ever been before. i used to joke that i had been waiting my whole life to turn 30, but i think that was true actually. getting older rules.

What was the first piece of furniture you bought?

off with a BANG. i think it was probably a knock-off saarinen tulip table i got from craigslist when i was in grad school the first time, long long ago. i think the guy had found the base (which may in fact be genuine) and he built a wooden top for it. it's lovely and i think i paid $100 for it. we don't have room for it in the current house (it's dining room sized, about 5 ft across), so it's hiding in my aunt's basement for now.

6. Most precious thing one of your pets has destroyed?

this wasn't actually one of mine, but my parents' dog punkin. the first and only thing i won at auction was a poster for the 1976 50th anniversary of the 1925 exposition des artes decoratifs (which cemented the art deco style and later contributed its name), and punkin ate it. i can still barely talk about it. looked like this:

11. What’s something you saved up for and then regretted buying?

weirdly the first thing i think of is an inflatable chair i got from kb toys in the mall when i was a kid. i thought that thing was going to change my life. it didn't. i cried. my mom helped me return it.

25. Favorite old person activity?

playing solitaire with real cards. when i was a kid, while the rest of us were rolling in the sand and getting our teeth knocked out by waves at the beach, my grandma would sit inside and play solitaire. one year i joined her. she taught me SO many varieties of solitaire and i remember em all.

26. Would you rather sit on the porch drinking sweet tea or sit by the lake drinking beers?

i don't drink alcohol so sweet tea gets my vote. lake vs porch really depends on the breeze situation, but most likely lake. i love a body of water.

33. What’s something you collect?

edward gorey books, including paperbacks he did covers for. also linda ronstadt records

41. What’s the oldest thing you own?

i don't know! i have a lot of old furniture i inherited or found in thrift stores so i really don't know how old any of that is. it might be a ring that belonged to my great-grandmother. it probably dates to the mid-19th century.

42. What’s an unjustifiably expensive appliance that you really want?

a roomba! which is unjustifiable in part because of the weirdness of our house. but how will we know until we try it!

also: this coffee grinder (unjustifiable because we have a perfectly good one already but this one is red) and this milk pan.

48. If you could build your home from scratch, what outrageous feature would you want to build into it?

A CONSERVATORY!!! i want a glasshouse i want to fill it with plants and enjoy the OUTSIDE while INSIDE. that's the dream.

but also like. so many secret passages.

52. Did your relationship with your parents get better when you stopped living with them?

i think it got worse, actually.

54. Do you decorate your house for holidays? Which ones?

i decorate the yard for halloween (full graveyard babey), but any spooky decorations that go up inside the house usually become permanent. we don't have room for anything more than stockings in the current house, but i put christmas lights up on the porch and around a doorway inside.

69. What are you looking forward to next week?

my paycheck lol

[army-of-bee-assassins]

god i'm so excited to be done with grad school and have a real job and make enough money to buy new things when the old things wear out. and i know i'm so close to that like in less than two months i will be done and working but jesus it feels way too far away right now. and moving is so scary bc i know it will be so stressful moving immediately after graduation and then immediately starting work. i just want it to be sept 1st when i'm already working and i get my first paycheck and i'm all moved in to a new apt. would love to just skip the next few months.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Hello. How are you?

My ask is around fashion, styling and BTS.

This ask stems from Tae’s recent shoots which seem to show him experimenting but to be honest, I liked his Veutiful shoot more. He has that Lord/Duke vibe and his face card is also apt for that sort of shoot. I didn’t like the blonde hair on him and find everything else quite on the nose. As if there’s a deliberate effort to show a different side. It seems uncomfortable and awkward.

So. Who has had the most amazing jaw dropping ‘glow up’ (it’s the only word that comes to mind but I mean in terms of style and fashion) according to you? And Sir Jung Hoseok is not an option. Jimin is also not an option 🤭 Though I am not a boba-min fan. I prefer his hair blonde/under cut/PTD Seoul era. His album shoot was something else. And the Tailor of Chaos shows what he can do. Now I want him to show us something edgier. I’m thinking paint and bare body.

***

You don’t like the blonde hair on Tae?

Really?

*

Well, I suppose that's just as well. I happen to love the blonde hair on him and think it suits him better now when his face structure is more defined than it was a couple years back. And rather than him looking uncomfortable or awkward in his recent styling, I think he photographs very well.

*

But that's the beauty of diverse opinion. Onto your main ask though... I can't mention Hoseok? Why?

And no Jimin?

Anon.... you're kinda taking the piss, aren't you?

But alright, I'll work within those parameters. Jin is out of the question since he's not really been around for much of Chapter 2 so far.

My first candidate for best glow up is Kim Taehyung.

I don't know if it's Jennie... toute la vitamine E qu'il a reçue en mangeant de la chatte the balmy summer weather but Tae in my opinion looks the best he's looked in years. I didn't really care for the suited-up preppy look he had in previous years so I'm loving that he's switched to more casual but fitted streetwear recently. In more editorial shoots, he's also styled very well. Seems like working with Celine has its perks in that sense. I understand we disagree on this note, but I do think Tae has had the best glow up.

After Tae, I have to say Namjoon. I mean...

Joon is very consistent in his styling so that's not where I'm seeing the glow up. It's in his build and carriage. I feel shorter hair suits him best and all the hours he's been spending in the gym are paying off handsomely.

I've also noticed his skin has cleared up in recent months too... so maybe he's changed his diet or something? Idk what it is but he looks so much more delicious now than just a few months ago. His campaign shoots for Bottega Veneta also suit him perfectly. I'm hoping we see more styling in this vein when he drops RM4.

Next up, Yoongi.

This Vouge shoot was both a plague and a godsend. Considered tying my tubes for fear I'd spontaneously get impregnated if I stared at his knees too long. The thing about Yoongi is, he knows what he's got. He knows that for regular people, knees are knees. But that for him, knees are pale, supple, sweet weapons of mass destruction. And he wields it without mercy. Not like his styling in Valentino has helped either. He's been on a mission to wreck balls and ovaries since Chapter 2 started and not even 6 ft tall NBA players are exempt. So yeah, A+ styling from Yoongi, but he's always had this edge so in terms of relative change a.k.a. glow up, he ranks behind the others.

And then there's Jungkook.

...I've been cautioned I'm too profane where baby star candy is involved so will just note that he's hot no matter what he wears and move on.

That's my view on their recent glow up in terms of fashion, styling and overall looks Anon.