#The notes app on my phone is currently a mess

[visit-ba-sing-se]

Rude that stories need a "coherent plot" and "characters", how is it not enough that I have a vision and like two good lines of dialogue

[nerdie-faerie]

Received too much psychic damage from my phone that I had to start studying

[coldflasher]

thinking about how im literally on like. the 8th draft of my novel, but i've still never actually come up with a full, beginning-to-end readable draft without bits missing or repeated scenes or entire chapters in the wrong order

lol

[xosamioo]

“𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮”

Paring: riki x younger reader

Rating: 18+ explicit and mature content, smut and angst

Content warnings: NSFW age gap reader just turned 18 and ni-ki is 20 unprotected sex car

Summary: 18yrs y/n has a crush on her older brother's best friend, 20yrs Riki. y/n can't help but stare at Riki when he's over. Does he notice? Who knows...

WC: 3.2k

Authors note: 🔞This story is fiction and does not reflect the personalities or desires of those it is written about. This story has some scenes that may be uncomfortable for some readers, read at your own risk.

You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone and trying to decide what to do. Your older brother had brought his friend Riki over and they had been hanging out in his room doing god knows what Normally you would ignore them and do something by yourself but you had developed a crush on Riki. You tried to ignore it, knowing that it was completely off-limits considering he was your brother's best friend and he was older than you but he was so hot.

And to make matters worse, he was always wearing tank tops. Ugh, you couldn't help but stare at his arms and collarbones. You could feel yourself getting hot and you needed some air. That's when I heard the door open.

Your brother walked right by the couch without saying anything. Riki followed shortly after and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He was wearing a white tank top and some jeans and you couldn't help but stare. He took a drink of his water and my eyes drifted to his Adam's apple. He finished and set the bottle on the counter, letting out a sigh. You looked away and continued to scroll on your phone and he sat down next to you on the couch and looked at you. "Hey," he said ruffling your hair "Hey," you reply, trying to sound nonchalant. It was difficult with him so close, especially since his arm kept brushing against your shoulder. Ugh, even his voice was incredibly deep and attractive. "What are you doing?" he asked, leaning forward a bit to look at your phone. "Just scrolling on my phone," you replied, still trying to act casual. "Anything interesting?" Riki asked, leaning even closer and looking at your phone. You could feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne. It was making it very difficult to form a coherent thought. "Uh, not really," you mumbled, quickly switching to a different app. Riki nodded and leaned back against the couch, stretching his arms above his head. You couldn't help but steal a glance and notice the way his shirt rode up, exposing his toned stomach.

Ugh, this was torture. He seemed completely oblivious to the effect he was having on you, meanwhile, you were a mess. Your mind was racing and the warm and wet feeling between your thighs was not helping either causing you to squeeze them together. You needed to get out of the room before you did something stupid. But just as you were about to get up, Riki spoke again. "Hey, where are you going?" he said, looking over at you. You froze turning around "Oh, uh, I just wanted to get some fresh air," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. Riki nodded and stood up, stretching again, and your eyes lingered on his abs for maybe a second too long. He noticed and raised an eyebrow at you. "Are you sure you're okay? You're acting kinda weird," he asked, looking concerned. "I'm fine, just hot," you answered, fidgeting with your phone and hoping he'd believe you. "Yeah, it is kinda warm in here," Riki said, nodding in agreement. He took another sip of his water and you couldn't help but watch him swallow, mesmerized by the way his throat moved. You were seriously losing it. "You know, you've grown up a lot. I still remember how small you were when your brother first introduced you to me." he said putting his water down "Yeah, I guess I have," you nodded, trying to keep up the conversation without giving away your current thoughts. Riki smiled stretching yet again causing you to bite your lip. "Well, you aren't a little kid anymore," he said, looking you up and down. "Yeah, I'm 18 now..." You answered, meeting his gaze. There was a moment of silence as you both stared at each other before Riki cleared his throat. "Anyway, your brother wants me to stay for dinner I should go see what your brother is doing," he said, breaking the tension and walking towards your brother's room. You sat there for a moment, taking deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart. This was going to be a long day.

During dinner, you made an effort to engage in the conversation, but your attention kept drifting back to Riki. You weren't sure how much longer you could keep this up, especially as Riki's arm kept brushing against yours as he reached for the food. Finally, dinner was over, and your brother headed out with his girlfriend for a few minutes. She must have left something in his room. Whatever. Leaving you and Riki alone. You helped Riki clean up and put away the leftovers, stealing glances at him the entire time. You were both quiet, but the tension between you was palpable. As you put the last dish away, you turned to face Riki, who was standing close to you. "So..." you began, unsure of what to say. Riki looked at you, his eyes intense. "You've been acting strange today," he said, taking a step closer to you. "I don't know what you mean," you replied, your heart racing. Riki took another step closer, practically looming over you. "Don't play dumb," he said, his voice low. "I saw the way you were looking at me." You couldn't deny it any longer, you were caught. "Okay, I may have been looking at you a little bit," you admitted, your body growing hot. Riki leaned in even closer, his face just inches from yours. "And why is that?" he asked, his voice a whisper. You could feel his breath on your face, making your heart race even more. "I...I find you attractive," you look him in the eyes. There was a moment of silence before Riki spoke again. "Is that so?" he said, a sly smile spreading across his face. You nodded, feeling your body grow even more heated. He took your face in his hands. "Well, I have to be honest, I've noticed how much you've grown up..." he said, his eyes raking over your body.

You couldn't believe what was happening, it was almost like a dream. "Oh yeah? And what do you think?" you asked, your voice barely audible. Riki smirked, his hands still holding your face. "I think you're more than just a cute little kid now," he replied, his tone suggestive. You were feeling braver now, encouraged by his admission. "I don't think you're so bad yourself..." you said, running your hands over his arms, feeling the muscles. Riki chuckled, moving his hands from your face down to your hips. "Mhm," you hummed, moving in closer, your bodies now pressed together. "You know, I never thought you'd be this bold," Riki said, his hands still on your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles. You could feel his thumbs on your bare skin from where your shirt had ridden up. "There's a first time for everything," you replied, your voice low.

Riki smiled, moving one of his hands from your hips to tilt your chin up. "That's true," he said, leaning in. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours. The kiss was soft at first, but quickly grew more intense, both of you trying to get as close as possible. You wound your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair, while his hands continued to roam your body, occasionally gripping you tightly. As the kiss deepened, you moaned softly, the sound barely audible. Riki moved his mouth to nibble on your neck, his stubble scratching against your skin in a way that made your knees weak. "Riki..." you whispered, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the muscles underneath.

Riki hummed in response, his hands sliding up your sides and under your shirt. "You're so hot and responsive," he murmured against your neck, his fingers toying with the hem of your bra. You moaned again, your hips grinding against him as the heat between your legs grew more intense. "Riki, I-" you started but were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. You both pulled away, trying to compose yourself as your brother walked into the kitchen. "Hey, I'm back," he said, not noticing anything amiss. Riki quickly moved away from you, clearing his throat. "Yeah, we finished cleaning up," he said, his voice a little rough You nodded in agreement, not sure if you could trust your voice at the moment. You could still feel the heat of Riki's touch on your skin, making it difficult to focus on anything else. Your brother seemed oblivious to the tension in the room, simply grabbing a drink from the fridge before heading to his room. As soon as he was gone, you turned back to Riki, neither of you saying a word for a second. "We should probably talk about what just happened," he said, breaking the silence. You nodded, your heart still racing. "Yeah, we should," you agreed, taking a deep breath. Riki ran a hand through his hair"Look, I don't want to mess things up with your brother or anything," he said, looking at you with a serious expression. You immediately understood what he meant. Your brother was very protective of you, and if he found out about this, it could cause a lot of problems. You nodded, biting your lip "I know, and I don't want that either," you said, your voice serious.

"So, are we just going to pretend like this never happened?" Riki asked, searching your face for an answer.

You couldn't bear the thought of going back to how things were before. "No, I can't do that," you said, your voice firm. "I don't want to stop what we started."

Riki took a step towards you, his expression softening. "Neither do I," he said, taking your face in his hands once again. "But we have to be careful. Your brother can't find out, at least not anytime soon."

You nodded, placing your hands over his.

"your brother would kill me if he knew," Riki said chuckling slightly as he brushed his thumb against your cheek

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. "yeah, he probably would," you agreed, gazing up at him.

"But..." Riki hesitated, his eyes still on yours "I don't think I can wait much longer to have you." Your breath hitched at his words, your heart beating even faster if possible. "Me too," you whispered, closing your eyes and leaning in closer. Riki closed the distance between you, kissing you deeply, his hands moving to grasp your hips once more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against him

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the heat between your bodies growing even more intense. Riki's hands moved up and down your sides, tugging on the fabric of your shirt. You moaned into his mouth, your hands raking through his hair. The sound of your brother's voice from his room snapped you both back to reality. "Everything okay in there?" he called out. You both broke away you signed annoyed and sexually frustrated.

"Yeah, everything's fine just cleaning up!" Riki called back, Riki looked down at you, and you had a look of frustration on your face. You both sighed, knowing that you couldn't continue this without being interrupted.

You and Riki shared a look. "We can't keep doing this here," Riki said, running a hand through his hair. You nodded in agreement, still trying to catch your breath. "You're right," you said, trying to compose yourself. "But where else can we go? My brother is home"

Riki thought for a moment, then yelled to your brother telling him that he was taking you to get ice cream. "come on." he grabbed your hand and led you out of the house towards his car.

You followed him, feeling excited and nervous. Riki opened the passenger door for you and helped you inside before getting in the driver's seat. He started the car and drove for a few minutes before pulling into a secluded parking lot.

Once he parked the car, Riki turned to you, his gaze intense. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice low. You nodded, feeling your heart racing once again. "Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Without another word, Riki leaned in and kissed you fiercely, his hands quickly finding your hips. You moaned into his mouth and climbed over sitting on his lap, your hands clutching at his shoulders. The heat between you grew even more intense as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressing together. Riki groaned into your mouth, his hands roaming over your body, as you rocked against him, feeling him hardening beneath you. He broke away from the kiss, his breathing ragged. "We should probably move to the back," he said, his voice low and deep. You nodded, reluctantly climbing off of him and moving to the backseat. Riki followed, shutting the door behind him. As soon as he was in the backseat with you, he pulled you onto his lap once again, his hands roaming under your shirt, feeling your bare skin. You moaned, grinding against him, feeling him pressing against your clothed cunt. His hands moved around to your back, unhooking your bra and sliding it off before tossing it aside. His mouth found its way to your neck once more, nipping and sucking at your skin. Your hands fumbled with the hem of his tank, eventually pushing it off of him.

You ran your hands over his chest and arms, feeling his muscles flexing beneath your touch. Riki's hands were everywhere at once, making you whine and moan You moved to pull off his jeans "Let me," he said, quickly removing his jeans and boxers in one go. You did the same, pulling off your shorts and underwear, feeling the cool air hit your warmth. Riki took you in for a moment. "You're beautiful," he murmured, his eyes raking over your body pulling you back on his lap You smiled at his words, feeling him hard against your leg. You couldn’t get enough of his touch either, your hands explored every inch of his skin as you kissed him fervently. "I need you" you whispered, breaking the kiss. Riki nodded, his breathing ragged. "I know, me too," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you once again. His hands moved to your hips guiding you above him You wasted no time, sinking into him with a moan. Riki groaned gripping your hips tightly, his head falling back against the seat as you fully sucked him in you began to move slowly at first, adjusting to his size. You rode him slowly, his hands guiding your hips. Riki moaned, his eyes fixated on how his cock disappeared inside of you each time you moved your hips down. The windows began to fog up from a combination of your heavy breathing and the heat building up in the car.

You moved faster, riding him with more urgency, both of you moaning and panting "You’re so fucking tight" Riki groaned, running his hands through your hair while you rode him, your hands planted firmly on his chest. The car began to rock with the rhythm of your bodies, You both were lost in the sensation chasing your release. The only sound was the slapping of flesh against flesh and the occasional moan or gasp that escaped between heavy breaths. “Fuck, Riki” you moaned, throwing your head back as you continued to ride him getting closer and closer with each passing moment. Riki’s head was pressed back against the seat, his eyes hooded with pleasure. His hands were firmly planted on your hips, helping to guide your movements.

You were getting close, you could feel it. The tension was building in your belly “Riki- I’m” you gasped out, barely able to form coherent words "I’m close too baby" he said, his grip on your hips tightening as he met your thrusts with his own You could feel him hitting all the right spots, driving you even closer to the edge. Every nerve ending in your body felt alive, sensitive to the slightest touch. Riki's groans grew louder and more urgent, his body becoming more rigid "Fuuuuck" he moaned his grip on your hips getting even tighter. You could feel yourself getting even closer, you were so close "Riki i-"You didn't get to finish, the waves of pleasure crashing over you as you came, your name rolling off of Riki’s lips in the form of a low, guttural groan as he found his release too, his body trembling beneath you. The sound of your and Riki’s moans and heavy breathing filled the car, the windows now completely fogged up from the heat. You collapsed on top of him, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. Riki wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, feeling your heart racing against his. You stayed like that for a few moments, both of you coming down from the high of your release. Finally, you shifted, sitting up slightly. "fuck..." you murmured still gently running over your back Riki chuckled softly still trying to catch his breath. He kissed the top of your head before reluctantly helping you climb off of him and onto the seat next to him. You both hurriedly put your clothes back on, feeling the cool air against your still-heated skin. When you were both dressed again, you looked at each other, smiling like idiots. Riki ran a hand through his hair, still a little sweaty. "I think we need that ice cream now," he said, smiling at you. You laughed softly and spoke excitedly “Ice cream??”

Riki nodded, starting the car and pulling out of the lot. "yeah, that was the excuse remember? " he said, reaching over to take your hand. He laced your fingers with him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him as he looked at you you were younger than him and knew that they were taking a huge risk here but he knew he was going to take good care of you. You leaned your head against his shoulder looking up at him….”I want Cookie Monster flavor”

Riki chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Whatever you want princess," he said, making his way towards the nearest ice cream shop.

—————————————————————————

Authors note: hope you enjoy this story keep a look out for riki x ceo reader 👀

Taglist : @hyunjinnnnnnnnnnnnnn @aanniikkaa

@kiliskywalker666 @minlvsjo @rizzimuraraniki @hooneyz-luver @purpleguu @ice-dandan20 @moonpri @nikisannyx @qaaths @rafegf-real

© xosamioo 2024 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply <i>her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

��It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a <i>little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he <i>knows</i> that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and <i>fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

[esmerulia-chantelle]

5 + 1 : Fluster

Summary: 5 times you (unconsciously) fluster Azul and the one time he (intentionally) flusters you back.

Notes: Suggestive themes. Established relationship. Azul calls you sweetheart. Reader is implied to be smaller than Azul (just for that one part about clothes).

A/N: I remember I was thinking about my persona and Azul's dynamic when I made this >/////<

A repost from my old blog @escha-evenstar. Edited.

Fives Times You (Unconsciously) Fluster Azul

Complimenting him sincerely

"Wow! I know you're a farsighted thinker but I'm still impressed you thought that far ahead. You're really amazing, Azul!" You said gleefully as you complimented your boyfriend.

He cleared his throat as he adjusted the glasses perched on his nose. It was but a failed attempt to hide the pink blush creeping up on his cheeks. "Well, it is to be expected, sweetheart. After all, preparation is the key to ensure success. And I won't tolerate any sort of failure, not as long as I am here."

You giggled at him. "Hehe~ I really admire that about you. I'm so lucky to have met you, Azul. You're just so clever and hardworking! Not to mention you look very attractive, both in human form and merform if I might add. Also..."

Somehow, you ended up saying a lot of things about him as you continued to sing genuine praises, unaware that Azul's face was turning a deeper shade of crimson for each compliment that come out of your mouth.

"Ah! Your face is red! Are you okay?"

No, I am not.

Not after you said all those things about him. He was a blushing mess.

Saying "I love you" unexpectedly

Azul was having a pleasant conversation with you as you strolled around town on your date. You soon found a bench that was shaded under a tree and decided to take a rest from walking. He was in the middle of talking about something when you suddenly interrupted.

"Zul, can I just.. say something?"

"Of course. Do you also have comments about the food? I personally think-"

"I love you," you said with complete love and adoration in your eyes.

Azul blinked at you. A second passed before his face blushed a bright crimson hue.

"I—" He moved his hand to cover part of his flushed face.

He cleared his throat before responding to you shyly. "I love you too, sweetheart."

How could you say that out of nowhere? And with such an expression too?

Azul felt his heart might just burst out of his chest.

Sending him a picture with him on your mind

Azul was sorting through some papers and shipments at the Mostro Lounge when he heard his phone buzz repeatedly with a customized ringtone, indicating it was you. He immediately stopped working to check his phone.

3 Notifications?

He opened his messenger app, seeing you at the top with your nickname "Sweetheart" beside your profile picture, and began reading through your messages.

Sweetheart: Zuuuuul~ 🥰

Sweetheart: Hi hi! Hope you're doing okay there. Remember not to overwork yourself.

Sweetheart: We're strolling by the beach right now. It's such a beautiful day for a walk!

You were currently hanging out with your friends. Azul would have loved to join you but needed to finish some work first. He saw three dots on the speech bubble, meaning you were typing another message.

Sweetheart: Look!

Sweetheart has sent an attachment.

Upon clicking on the file, Azul felt his heart beat faster and his face flushing slightly. It was a selfie of you showing the beach as your background. Your hair flowed gently with the breeze. Your skin glowing with the sun cascading over it. Your eyes shining bright like gemstones. And your smile as lovely as ever.

Absolutely breathtaking.

Sweetheart: Wish you were here with me. I miss youuuu~ 🩷🩷🩷

He instantly saved the photo of you, storing it inside a private album on his phone filled with dozens of pictures of you, before typing a reply.

Looking at the album, Azul felt himself blush some more from how you always think about him wherever you were.

How lucky he was to have that privilege.

Giving him a surprise kiss

"Here's your tea! Time for a break, Azul," you said as you poured him a cup and set down the fancy saucer with matching teacup on his desk.

Azul, however, was still scribbling on the contract laid in front of him. "Thank you, sweetheart. Let me just finish this last one."

You were pouring another cup of tea for yourself when you remembered something.

"Ah! I was supposed to bring in some biscuits too. Let me just get them." You were on your way to the door when Azul asked you to pass him a file, saying he just needed to check something. You grabbed the folder and gave it to him.

"Here you go! When I get back, I hope to see you're finished with that and taking your break," you pouted.

Azul chuckled at your cute face. "But of course, sweetheart. Anything for you," he said, which made you smile.

"Hehe~ Yey! I'll go get the biscuits now."

Azul thought you would leave after that, but he noticed how you inched even closer to him, and suddenly your lips were on his face, right on top of his beauty mark.

A pinkish hue dusted his cheeks and the tips of his ear.

It felt like an eternity before you pulled back and walked out of the room, saying, "I'll be back!"

He heard the door close, and his hand suddenly lost its grip on the fishbone pen he was using.

He might just take his break right now.

Wearing his clothes

After a busy day at the lounge, Azul was glad to finish early and finally retire to his quarters for the night. He turned the handle on the door open as he called out to you. "Sweetheart?"

He was expecting you to be there, sitting on his bed, patiently waiting for him as usual, before eagerly getting off the bed and rushing to greet him with a kiss and a hug.

But you weren't.

There was no hug. No kisses. No you.

His eyes searched around the room before settling to the bathroom. Azul heard the door click as it slowly opened.

"Sweetheart! There you-”" His sentence was cut off as his eyes widened upon seeing your form.

There you were, wearing his white dress shirt. His piece of clothing looked like a short dress on your body. A few buttons on top were undone, exposing some skin.

Azul doesn't normally curse, but—

F*ck.

He feels the heat rise on his cheeks rapidly as he gazed at you. Stunned.

"Oh! Azul! I.. wasn't expecting you back yet." Your face show you were startled at seeing him.

At closer inspection, Azul noticed you were wearing purple eyeliner like he was. He couldn't help but continue to stare in astonishment.

"Uhm.. surprise?" You let out a soft chuckle as you brushed your hair behind your ear. "I wanted to dress up like you and wear your clothes as a surprise, but it seems I wasn't able to finish."

Azul was as still as a statue that sank to the bottom of the sea. His blue eyes never leaving your form and his face blushing an even brighter red the longer he stared.

"Zul?" You asked softly upon not hearing a response, head tilting to the side.

His mind was blank except for a single thought.

How are you so cute and sexy at the same time?

...and the One Time He (Intentionally) Flusters You Back

You and Azul were lying down on the bed, each doing your own thing. Although no words were said, you were basked in comfortable silence. However, you were completely unaware of the scheming thoughts of your lover.

While lying on your side and playing games with your phone, you suddenly felt arms wrap around you from behind.

"Sweetheart~"

You instantly shut your phone's screen off, placed it to the side, before turning around to face him. "Finished with work for today?"

"Mhm. I just.. have something in mind. Do you remember when I said that what's mine is yours?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"And you know Ashengrotto is my surname, right?" He asked, to which you nodded with a hum.

"Then that means my surname is yours too, isn't it? Y/N Ashengrotto does have a nice ring to it," he said with a teasing grin.

You felt your face heat up as you blushed.

"W-well.. uhm.. that does sound nice.. but, we're not.. married yet," you said nervously as you felt flustered from his words.

"Yet. Yet is the keyword, sweetheart," he said while tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Maybe not now, but we're bound to marry eventually. Maybe I should talk to someone and have your name changed so you could start getting used to it. Hm?" He was looking more smug by the second. Deviously but attractively smug.

"Azul! You're teasing me again." You covered your face with both hands feeling embarrassed.

I must look completely red by now.

"Aw. Don't hide your beautiful face from me, sweetheart," he said as he grabbed both of your wrists with a single hand, exposing your flushed face. "Besides, you know I'm only speaking the truth." He moved your hand closer to his lips and gave the ring on your ring finger a kiss while looking directly into your eyes.

Could I possibly be any redder than now?

You immediately turned your body to face the other way.

"It's bedtime now! You should sleep! I love you! Night night!" You said your words so quickly that Azul almost didn't pick it up. You only heard him chuckle behind you, but he didn't seem to have any plans of teasing you further.

Or, so you thought.

He wrapped an arm around your waist before muttering close to your ear. "It's too early for bedtime, sweetheart." He gave the sensitive skin behind your ear a gentle kiss and slowly trailed his soft lips down to your neck, before giving it a rough bite and sucking hard on your skin.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he marked you with a love bite.

"Did that feel good, sweetheart?" Azul asked huskily.

You only nodded in response with your face flushed pink. Azul saw this and let out a low chuckle.

"You look so cute like that. Let's see if I can make you blush some more, hm?" He teased as he continued kissing and nipping around your neck. "And don't forget to make those sweet noises for me too."

Masterlist here!

If you enjoyed this: likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

[thejakeslayla]

╰─▸ ❝ distance ❞ - ,, park sunghoon

pairing bf!sunghoon x gn!reader ୨୧ genre fluff, slight angst? ୨୧ wc 1k ୨୧ req; prompt 24 (deciding on a list of Netflix shows they will only watch together); dialogue 41 (“you’re just the cutest.” “you’re the only one who is allowed to say that.”);

you settled in, making yourself cozy under the blankets, propping your head up with pillows, your phone now in your hands. the clock struck 10 pm, and you eagerly anticipated a call from sunghoon. it had been his second week on tour, and you were longing to see him again.

as you scrolled through twitter, you watched clips of your boyfriend from today's concert. after a while, you opened your clock app to check the time in sunghoon's current location. just as you were about to click on the city he was in, his name and a cute picture of him smiling popped up on your screen. you glanced at yourself in the preview and answered the call.

"hey, y/n!" he exclaimed loudly, his still-sweaty face appearing on your screen. you could hear the sounds of the rest of enhypen in the background, indicating he was still backstage.

"hi, hoonie. how was the concert?" you asked, secretly admiring his face. suddenly, his video paused, and you furrowed your eyebrows, feeling confused. it soon resumed, and you saw niki's face.

"y/n! i missed yo–" "hey, niki! give it back!"

you laughed at niki's face. "riki, give sunghoon his phone, please," you requested after a few seconds of the younger member dodging his hyung.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry about that," sunghoon said after getting his phone back. "he's hyperactive after concerts, he gets the zoomies, y'know," he explained, and you nodded.

"i've already changed, just waiting for the car," he added, moving the camera down to show himself sitting with sweatpants and an oversized hoodie.

"looking good, baby." you smiled at him.

fifteen minutes later, sunghoon arrived at the hotel and instantly flopped down on the bed. you were used to seeing him like this, not only after concerts in seoul but also during calls, that slowly became your routine. he always called you as soon as he could and stayed on the call until one of you fell asleep.

"before the concert, i saw this new movie trailer," he broke the silence, lifting his face from the pillows and now looking at you. "we should go see it."

"we also have to finish the other million movies we haven't watched," you replied. "at this point, a good list would be nice."

upon hearing your words, sunghoon gazed at something out of your view, deep in thought. "you know, that's not a bad idea? as soon as i'm back, we should have a movie marathon."

you placed your phone down, hearing sunghoon's muffled "hey!" as you grabbed a notebook. then you adjusted your phone so he could still see you and looked at him.

"give me some suggestions, and i'll note them down."

he began listing some movie titles you were familiar with and others that were new to you. when you heard one of them, you paused.

"no, absolutely not. we're not watching that," you protested, and he raised an eyebrow.

"what do you mean? it's a good movie," he argued, and you shook your head.

"hoonie, that was the most boring movie i've ever seen."

"it's just your bad taste," he teased. "okay, if you have better movie taste, enlighten us, y/n."

"okay," you began. "so, my first suggestion is 'yuri on ice.'" you looked at your phone, waiting for sunghoon's reaction.

"oh, you think you're sooo funny," he said in a monotone voice, which made you laugh.

you couldn't see it, but the corners of his lips curled up as he watched you genuinely laughing. it warmed his heart to be the one making you laugh like that.

"you're just the cutest when you're like that, you know?" you said after a minute or two of laughing.

"you're the only one allowed to say that," he replied, leaving you feeling flustered. you put your head down, hiding your face in the notebook you had been writing in.

"y/n," he whined, "let me see you."

"no, i'm a mess, and it's your fault," you said, pretending to be offended.

"i wish i was there to see you," he almost whispered, though your phone was on max volume. you lowered the notebook and looked at him.

"what did you say?" he noticed your face peeking at him, and now he was the one feeling flustered.

"i just wish i could be there with you. i miss seeing your face, feeling your body close to mine, i miss kissing you, watching those silly movies with you, holding your hand," he said after a few seconds of silence, as if he were mustering the courage to say it. "i miss you."

you couldn’t help but feel tears welling up in your eyes, you missed sunghoon as well, so much it was painful. he quickly noticed your tears.

"hey, love, please don't cry. we'll see each other soon, okay?" he reassured you.

you nodded, wiping away your tears, but it was pointless as even more escaped your eyes, slowly rolling down your cheeks.

"i miss you too, hoonie," you finally said, your voice breaking.

"my baby," he said, his voice soft, as if it was healing the fresh wounds in your heart. "you have to be strong, okay? just two more cities here in the us, and i'll be back home."

after a few minutes of sunghoon calming you down, saying sweet nothings, and repeating that he would be back soon, you finally stopped sobbing. you placed the notebook on your nightstand and lay down, your cheek pressed against the pillow.

your conversation about movies continued, but sunghoon soon noticed your responses getting shorter or you simply replying with a soft "mhm" in varying tones that matched the conversation.

"love, is your phone charging?" he asked.

"mhm."

"where's your little hoonie?" another question. you opened your eyes and searched for the penguin plushie sunghoon had given you as a gift for your first anniversary. you quickly grabbed it and held it in your arms. closing your eyes again, you heard sunghoon chuckle.

"good, good. go to sleep, okay, love? i'll be here. do you want me to keep talking?"

you answered with another hum. just hearing his voice relaxed you, and he knew that after multiple times of you falling asleep on the call as he spoke.

he continued to talk, but after a few minutes, his voice became muffled as you started falling asleep for good. when sunghoon noticed your slow and steady breathing, calm expression, and the fact that you didn't respond anymore, he sighed, a soft smile on his face. he took a screenshot of your relaxed face and settled down more comfortably.

"i can't wait to see you and fall asleep with you, baby. i love you so much. sleep well."

requests: open; prompt list © 2023 — all rights reserved to user thejakeslayla, please do not steal, plagiarise or translate any of my work !

[vsaintsin]

Writeblr Re-Intro

Yo! I'm V Saintsin. Or V or Vin or Saintsin or whatever you want to call me that sounds right on your tongue. I'm a self-proclaimed Social Media fumbler who got a late start to the party and has never quite figured it out. I hate how hipster and edgy it sounds to say "I'm bad at social media" but like I used to work with some people who actually managed the social media accounts for the business we worked for and there were rules and whatnot and damn, I think online media is just not my medium. That being said, here I am! Hah

I'm an author and general mess who's hoping to be the miracle man (somebody who makes a living writing silly little stories). I do use a pseudonym but please hear me out when I say I didn't realize how edgy it sounds, it just has some sentimental value to my personal life. I'm so sorry that I sound like I'm in my emo phase HAHA

About me -

He/Him Transguy from the American Midwest (arguably the south, depending on who you talk to, but the older people still say "Sodi-pop" and "ope").

I'm dysautonomic, bendy, permanently sleepy, and a survivor of Crappy Doctors Who Suck At Doctoring.

I like DnD, Pathfinder, Baldur's Gate 3, Cyberpunk, Dragon Age, and other things in that vein.

I do make art of my stories and characters (Tablet is currently not working so I'm in a dry spell).

My writing background is predominantly ancient, dusty RPs from as far back as the foopets days and fanfic writing on Quizilla - I am an old and wizened elder of the net.

My formal education was music performance and behavioral neuroscience, I don't really know how I got where I am.

This is not my first rodeo with tumblr but it is the first time I have anything to SAY instead of just lurking.

In the event of malfunction, you can put me outside for 5 minutes and I'll probably factory reset.

My existence as I know it hinges on a massive number of sticky notes plastered throughout my room.

What I'm lookin' for -

Idk, whatever? I'm down for most things. Did you write it? Cool, let me see. I'm not too bent on genre or anything, just fascinated by the art of storytelling.

A bit tentative with fanfiction but that's just because if it's not a fandom I'm familiar with I am rather clueless about what the hell is going on and if it's a fandom I am familiar with I HUNT DOWN THE DEEP LORE.

I like art a whole lot, including fanart. Also art advice, love seeing things from different perspectives and learning something new.

Mutuals, really, for any reason. Building better connections on here, getting to know people. I am hideously bad at this but I try.

What I write -

Science Fiction with heavy subjects that matter to me - trigger warnings on a story-by-story basis.

High Fantasy (eventually books I think?) characters and their backgrounds for DnD and Pathfinder - I have been tempted to share these to help people get ideas or just for free use?

Things that I delete because I have crippling imposter syndrome and publishing makes me nauseous (doin' it tho).

Stories that I hope will make people feel less alone or that people could relate to, stories that I wish I had when life was worse and I was reaching out for anything I could find to keep me afloat, stories that try to be critical of things that SUCK in a way that's any helpful.

Lots of curse words and cussing (that's just how people talk 'round here), dubious science, things that I hope might make you cry but in a good way though.

Character-Driven stories that revolve more around the development of the person and less around the plot itself if that makes sense.

I've put blurb things below for my primary project/series which features a grumpy, queer, 37-year old chain smoking Frenchman and his misadventures with life and love and unbridled rage. If any of that sounds cool stick around and hang out? (This part is a plug bc I did a thing and I'm proud of it) And if my books sounds interesting the first one is 99 cents on Kindle and you just need a phone and a free app to read it!

THE SECRET OF LIFE (Published) - Sci-Fi/Psychological Thriller, Bi M Lead, Lovers to Enemies, AI but the oldschool cool kind not the real world thing that's stealing our future

Carlisle-Trystan Antoinette is a mercenary on a hard road, navigating life and death itself in an infinite cycle started by powers above his understanding. He has one mission - warn The Dianican Space Station of the coming threat and put a stop to a war that would encapsulate the whole of the Sol System before it can ever begin. Unfortunately for Carlisle, reality is a tenuous thing, made up only by our understanding of it. At least, according to his Psychiatrist, who tells him that there is no war, that he was never a mercenary, and that what Carlisle is experiencing is a severe but manageable psychotic break. Stripped of his combat enhancements, his bio monitor, and everything he's every known, Carlisle has a decision to make. Does he give in to the thoughts and memories, so real that he can almost taste them, or does he live a life of comfort and ease, returning to a husband and daughter that he left behind?

TWs: Domestic and War Violence, suicide, rape, medical trauma, grief, drug use

THE SILENCE OF ANGELS (Due 2024, TSoL 2) - Betrayal and Rage, Learning how to love again slow-burn romantic subplot, Learning how to Dad, A general inability for any one thing to just go right

(Quick Rough Blurb that offers no spoilers for TSoL) Making connections isn't easy for somebody who's accustomed to burning bridges. Isolation has always been Carlisle's mantra for surviving his life. Playing a role comes second nature, pretending to be the man that everyone else wants to see in him. When an old friend is murdered Carlisle finds himself as the primary suspect with all evidence pointing to him so clearly that even he calls to question what he is capable of. Unwilling to believe that he could commit such a heinous crime, Carlisle sets off to find the truth of his friend's death - was Carlisle framed or does he truly have the capacity to bring such harm upon those he loves? Old and new bonds will be tested, faith broken, and the future of everyone called into question as lines are drawn and sides are picked.

TWs: Violence, mentions of SA, graphic character death, more grief, more death

I don't know what else to say... Later!

[calware]

animated tumblr icon masterpost

(EDIT (7/10): it is no longer possible to have an animated icon if you did not have one previously. staff has admitted that this "feature" was added accidentally and that it's already been patched. i'll be removing any now-irrelevant segments from the intro and the FAQ. check the notes if you want to see earlier versions of this post)

two days ago, tumblr added the ability to have an animated icon by using an animated webp without giving out any official information on it (from what i can tell). i'm making this post to reduce the amount of questions i get about this. i'll be updating it with any new information i come across. if you have any questions after reading this post, feel free to ask

before i start, as of now, the web version of tumblr plays animated icons automatically which means icons with flashing lights/colors are a danger to people with photosensitivity. do not abuse this feature! remember to keep your icon safe for others by avoiding using any animated images with flashing lights/colors

also, please note that i do not use the tumblr app and i don't know how it works or how it differs from the web version. i use the desktop website as well as the website on my phone's browser (safari)

with that out of the way, here are some frequently asked questions:

7) if a blog has an animated icon, the animation only plays if i click on the icon. otherwise it's stuck on the first frame. why is this?

it's probably because of the platform you're using tumblr on. i use the web version and this doesn't happen to me, it just automatically plays on its own continuously. from what i can tell, this bug(?) only occurs on the tumblr app (depending on which device you use)

8) i use the app and i can't see anyone's animated icons, it's stuck on the first frame no matter what i do. how do i fix this?

check to see if you need to update the app

9) all the animated icons on the page suddenly froze up, what do i do?

try scrolling a little bit, that should unfreeze them. i don't know why this happens or why doing that fixes it 🫥

10) i had an animated icon and now it won't move. why did this happen and how do i fix this?

unfortunately i don't know why this happens, sorry. i could be wrong but from what i've seen i don't think you can fix it ☹️

11) i currently have an animated icon, if i upload a different animated webp image will it still work?

from what i've seen, no. if you want to keep your animated icon as it is, i'd suggest not changing it

12) i have an animated icon, if i edit my blog appearance (without changing the icon) will it mess up my icon?

if you edit your blog appearance via the desktop theme editor (https://www.tumblr.com/customize/yoururl), it should be fine

[itsthestutterforme]

Lloyd’s Girl 1/2 (Lloyd Hansen x tech!reader)

Summary: When Lloyd’s team bagged Fitzroy, they found him trying to destroy a hard drive. The hard drive had levels of deep encryption that Lloyd’s techs couldn’t break through. Thankfully, he knew who to call but you two have a history.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, reader is Black, dark themes (stalking, murder, allusions to sex), minors DNI

**

“I’d rather you punch me in the dick,” Lloyd’s shoulders tense with irritation at the mention of Suzzzane’s name. “I will gladly punch you in the dick, Lloyd,” Suzanne snaps.

Lloyd rolls his eyes and Denny continued to conversation about tracking down Six. He agreed to help Denny and made arrangements to figure out where Sierra Four’s funeral was so he could intercept Fitzroy.

In the meantime, he sent a team to grab Claire. On the plane ride to D.C., Lloyd logged on to a monitoring device he put in your hotel you were currently in. You were in Berlin on a business trip. He watched you through the screen. You were stirring in bed, mindlessly reaching for your phone.

You had lifted your head to check the time. By the way you shot out of bed and frantically tore off your pajamas, Lloyd could assume you were late for the 10:30 a.m. meeting you had. He had one of his employees hack into your work calendar so he could see all your meetings over the course of the year, keen on any updates.

“Sleepyhead,” he clicks his tongue and swiped out of the app while you made your way into the bathroom. Ever since you called the affair off, he’s been keeping tabs on you. Waiting- hoping you would change your mind.

Truth is, you knew he was watching you. You had discovered one of Lloyd’s mini cams in the house you shared with your husband, Conrad. And any hotel or Air B&B you would stay at for any period more than a week, he would put cams in the room.

You were his. He had to knew where you were at all times. But if you had to be honest, you liked that he was watching you. You liked that he longed for you.

It made you feel safe that you had someone as ruthless as Lloyd was protecting you. If someone even lifted a finger to harm you, they would be in a ditch by morning. He made you feel powerful. Conrad was devoted to his work a plane engineer. Lloyd was devoted to you.

**

“They’ve hit another wall, sir. They said they can’t crack it.” One of Lloyd’s men briefed. The encryption was damn near impossible to get through. It would shut down anyone’s computer who tried to break through it. No matter the angle.

“We need to figure out what’s on that drive and why Fitzroy was so keen on destroying it.” Suzanne states. “Well no shit, Suzanne.” Lloyd’s snaps, looking over when one of the techs slammed the desk in annoyance. His computer was shut down again.

“I can get a tech from the base to come but-“ “There’s no point. You need someone that knows decryption like the back of their hand,” a smile crept on his face. “I have an idea on who to call,” “Fuck no. Anyone associated with you is someone I want to stay far away from,”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want. This is your mess I was forced to clean up.” Lloyd dialed your number and left the room for privacy. You were walking back from getting your ass chewed out by your boss for being late to the meeting with the company’s board members. It made you look unreliable despite being the highest earning cyber security rep. Your net worth was climbing into the six digits.

You pulled your phone out of your purse when you felt it vibrate. You stopped in the middle of the walk way once you realized who it was. Hesitating a moment, you finger hovered over the answer button until it clicked.

“Hello?” You answered. “Hey kitten,” your heart skipped at beat at the nickname but tried your best to maintain a poker face. “Lloyd,” you greet. “I need that pretty little brain of yours to crack something for me,” you opened your mouth to say something when someone body checked you.

You looked over at the man and he lifted his hands in annoyance. He had said something in German but you put two and two together and reckoned it was something about you standing in the middle of sidewalk. You swallowed your embarrassment and stepped off to the side.

“Um, what’s in it for me?” You asked. Lloyd went silent for a moment and you had looked down at your phone to see if he was still on the call. A soft grunt caught your attention. You took a step back when you realized what had happened. The man from earlier has been stabbed right before he turned the corner. A pool of blood formed around him, staining his white jacket. Another man dressed in casual clothing was standing over him.

It was obvious he was military. He looked at you and gave a little wave before crossing the street. Your gaze found the blinking camera directly above you and everything started to make sense. “Lloyd?” “Yes, cupcake?” “What’s in it for me?” “Hm, how about a new pair of Louis Vuittons? Red bottoms.” He offers.

“Count me in,” “Great! A car will pick you up in ten,” “Oh, I’m not at home.” You threw out, curious as to what he would say. “That’s cute. Don’t forget to pack a bag.” You hung up the phone and continued your walk back to the hotel, stepping over the rude man from before.

“Care to tell me who is better than my CIA techs?” Suzzane asks when Lloyd reenters the room. “Y/N Hansen,” she reaches to take a sip of her drink. “You married Y/N?” I wish, Lloyd thinks to himself.

“No, she’s my brother’s wife. She was the top of her class and was offered a six figure salary straight out of college. She makes a normal guys salary on a weekly paycheck. If anyone can do the impossible, it’s her.” Lloyd explains, crunching on some chips.

“I didn’t know you were still in touch with her. Sounds like you still have a pant busting crush on her,” “Say that again and I’ll snap your neck,” he casually threatens. He stands and takes out his wallet, dropping his platinum card on the desk of a female employee. “I need you to go to the nearest Louis Vuitton store and find a cute pair of red bottoms. Size 9.5.”

“Yes, sir,” she says softly, taking the card into her hands and gathering her belongings to leave.

Even with taking Lloyd’s jet, the ride was still long. You only got one or two hours of sleep, which made you cranky to say the least. By the time you reached the compound, you were half asleep and hungry as hell. The door was opened for you and you took your weekender bag in your hands.

You stepped out of the car, arching your back as you stretched. Lloyd meets you at the top of the stairs with his arms open. “Kitten,” he greets, giving you a once over and taking his time. You wore a white skirt, a black blouse with a matching black blazer. He took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

“Lloyd,” you said softly. His cock twitched in his pants at the sound of your voice. It was the first time hearing your voice that wasn’t behind a screen. “No time to get you settled, sweetheart. We need this hard drive decrypted ASAP,” “On it,” he takes your bag from your hands and moves aside to let you walk in front.

“Shit,” you realized you hadn’t zipped one of your black thigh high boots all the way. You bend down to zip it up but Lloyd stopped you. He had bent down and cradled your ankle in his hand, grazing your skin with his knuckle as he zipped the boot up. You let out a breath, your legs had goosebumps from his touch.

You hated how your body still reacted to him after all this time. You were here for an all of five minutes and had the cold-blooded Lloyd Hansen on his knees before you. He could tell you had sprayed your signature perfume on the back of your thighs. And it drove him absolutely crazy. You gasped when he caressed the back thigh. He stood and wiped off the dirt from his pants.

“Let’s get you inside,” he leads you inside the compound and you took off your jacket. “Long time no see, Y/N. Seems like you’re doing good for yourself.” Not knowing what to say that, you walk passed her and watched one of the techs attempted to decrypt the drive. “Still not one for talking, I see,” Suzzane says to herself.

The tech was kicked out of the program and the computer shut off. Mm, this looks like it’ll be fun. You thought. “Alright anyone who is working on the decryption, stop. You’ll just get kicked out again. Go back to your normal jobs and leave the decryption to me,” you announce to the room. The techs stopped and looked over to Lloyd. “You heard her,”

“You mind?” You made eye contact with one of the techs and they stammered to say something. A reaction that Lloyd didn’t like. He crossed the room and took out his pocket knife. Spinning the chair around, he pressed the knife to the man’s throat. “When she speaks, you listen. Got it?” He speaks slowly and calculated. The man shuddered at Lloyd’s intense gaze. “Now get the fuck out of her seat,”

Lloyd pulls away and the man abruptly stands from the chair and you slide into the seat.

After forty minutes of consistently typing an aggressive decrypting algorithm that you had personally developed and sold for $10k a download, you broke through the first layer of encryption.

“Huh,” you linked your arms above your head and leaned back in the chair. Lloyd had just come back from having a ‘talk’ with Fitzroy, wiping his bloody hands on a cloth. You had tuned out his screams so you could focus at the task at hand. “What do you mean ‘huh’? Did you crack it?” Suzzane asks as she approaches.

“Just the first level. There’s a very sensitive Trojan horse tacked on this one. You only have one shot to get the right code.” “And if we don’t?” Suzzane continues. “Everything that was previously on it will be wiped instantly. Someone really doesn’t want you to find out what’s on this drive.” You explain, cracking your knuckles one by one.

“Can you do it?” She asks and you rolled your eyes at the request. “I’m really good at what I do, Suzzane. Give me an hour tops. No distractions,”

You looked over at Lloyd and he winked at you. “Before you do that,” he trails off and comes back with a bag on food with a Post-Mate’s seal on it. Your smile widened when he slid a shoe box over to you. “As promised,”

[mynicosensesaretingling]

The Parc Fermé Spectacle

A Fernando Alonso crack fic

summary: After mistakingly being put in parc fermé , Fernando duels Brad in a wrench fight.

note: don’t ask me anything, this is an absolute crack fic written in my notes app.

ENJOY x

——-

It was a blistering day at the Hungarian Grand Prix, but the real heat was in the pit lane, where tensions between Fernando Alonso and Brad Pitt had reached their boiling point. What started as a simple misunderstanding with a movie car had spiraled into an all-out grudge match.

Fernando climbed out of his car, tossing his helmet aside as his eyes blazed with fury. Making his way over to the Apex car, he grabbed a massive wrench from a toolbox, twirling it like a seasoned knight wielding a broadsword. “You’ve messed with the wrong driver, Pitt!” He bellowed. “You better prepare yourself, because today you face the Matador of the Asphalt!”

Brad, never one to back down from a fight, grabbed a similarly oversized wrench, brandishing it with the confidence of someone currently filming their self-insert dream scenario . “Bring it on, Alonso! Let’s see if you’re as tough off the track as you are on it!”

Noticing the brawl between the men, mechanics and crew members quickly formed a circle around them, eagerly anticipating the duel of the century. Bets were placed, phones were out, and chants were started.

With a dramatic clash, their wrenches met in mid-air, the sound echoing through the pit lane like a thunderclap. Fernando moved with the precision and grace of a dancer, his wrench a blur as he launched a series of rapid strikes. Brad parried wildly, his eyes wide with a mix of determination and growing panic.

“You call that a swing?” Fernando taunted, easily dodging Brad’s clumsy attempts. “My grandmother could hit harder!”

Brad, now red-faced and desperate, attempted a spin move, only to lose his balance and stumble , face first, into a stack of tires. The pit crew erupted in laughter, but Fernando wasn’t done yet. He leaped onto a nearby crate, using it as a makeshift podium.

“Is this the best Hollywood has to offer?” Fernando shouted, dramatically pointing at Brad, before executing a flawless backflip off the toolbox and landing perfectly behind the actor. Before Brad could react, Fernando lightly tapped on his shoulder with the wrench. “Tag, you’re it,” he said with a smirk.

Brad whirled around, swinging his wrench with all his might, but Fernando was quicker. He dodged Brad’s wild swings with the agility of a cat, occasionally spinning around in a mock dance-like fashion.

“Careful now, Pitt,” Fernando taunted as he dodged another overzealous strike. “You’re making this look like a bad B-movie fight scene. Where’s the stunt double when you need one?”

Brad, fuming and clearly flustered, tried to recover his composure. “I’m just warming up!” he yelled, lunging forward again.

Fernando sidestepped effortlessly and used the wrench to gently tap Brad on the nose. “Oh, is that what they call ‘action’ in Hollywood? I’d hate to see what you call ‘drama.’ Maybe it involves a lot of falling down and looking surprised?”

The pit lane crowd burst into laughter, some doubling over as Brad, now red-faced and visibly irate, tried to mount a comeback. He lunged with renewed determination, only for Fernando to casually step aside and give Brad a playful pat on the back with the wrench.

“You know, I’ve seen more finesse in a bumper car derby,” Fernando said, barely suppressing his chuckles. “Is this your ‘intense’ acting face? Because it looks like you’re trying to remember your lines.” Brad, clearly frustrated and out of breath, made one last desperate attempt to regain control. He charged forward, but Fernando sidestepped with the ease of someone casually stepping around a puddle.

In a burst of creativity, Fernando grabbed a nearby spare tire and rolled it towards Brad, who tripped over it and went tumbling into a stack of toolboxes.

As Brad lay there, dazed and disheveled, Fernando couldn't help but notice his dramatic, almost theatrical fall.

With a dramatic flourish, Fernando raised his wrench high above his head and surveyed Brad with an exaggerated critical eye. He paused for a moment, then walked over to the checkered flag that had been left nearby, originally meant for celebrating race wins. He picked it up with a grand, sweeping gesture.

“This is truly a sight to behold!” Fernando announced loudly, waving the checkered flag like a matador ready to end a bullfight. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a champion of the clumsy! An artist of the absurd!”

He circled Brad, twirling the flag with the precision of a seasoned performer. “Behold the dramatic pose!” Fernando declared, waving the flag dramatically above Brad’s head. “A true masterclass in unintentional comedy!”

Brad, still sprawled on the ground, glared up at Fernando with a mixture of embarrassment and fury. “Okay, okay, I get it!” he shouted. “You’ve proven your point. Can we call it a day?”

Fernando paused, striking a pose with the flag as if he were declaring victory in an epic showdown. Lowering the flag, Fernando extended a hand to help Brad up. “Come on, Pitt,” he said, his voice full of mock warmth. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for your next role—perhaps as a human prop in a slapstick comedy?”

[cursedvibes]

Fic Writer Q & A!

Tagged by @voxofthevoid Thank you 🤗

How many wips do you have currently?

In terms of stuff I'm more or less actively working on with a proper concept (not just vague ideas) and what I plan to finish: 9

Which one are you finding the hardest to finish?

The final chapter of Stitches Across The Eye 😖 I recently got a comment asking when I'm gonna post it, since the last update was over a year ago...well... It's just that canon has thrown me for a loop with the new Jin lore and also TenKen and Pinchan are hogging my attention lately. It has kind of messed with what I had originally in mind for the end of that fic. I will get around to it eventually though and if it's the last thing I ever do!!

What does it usually look like when inspiration strikes for you?

I write 5-10k in one sitting until my brain is mush and I can't form a single coherent thought anymore. Otherwise, if I have an idea for a scene, dialogue or general theme while lying in bed at night, I write it down as detailed as possible on my phone in whatever WIP document it fits. Thankfully Google Docs exists as an app too 🙏

Do you curate playlists for each fic or is your process different?

I have a playlist for Stitches, but I don't use it anymore. I prefer to listen to ambient-ish music to get into and keep myself in the mood I need for a certain fic. I have a whole YouTube playlist with 1h+ ambient compilations and whatever feels right for the fic or scene will play on repeat while I write. For example:

This is what I listened to a lot for my Pinchan fics

works well for TenKen fics

Chance Encounter

And the Official Prison Realm Lofi often fits as well like for example for Stitches

Do you go balls to the wall and write as you go or are you more organized?

I used to go balls to the wall. I did plan my fics, what would happen when, but I would only do that in my head and then write the fic from start to finish like I imagined it. No jumping around and only writing down what has been mostly solidified (excluding edits of course). Recently, I've gone to writing outlines in my docs first and then start writing, while deleting the passages in my notes I already finished. It has the advantage that I don't have to remember as much, I can add spontaneous ideas into my outline and don't have to hope I remember them when I get to that point in the fic and I write much faster when I have the bullet points further down as a reference. It's especially helpful for phrasing. And it's a nice feeling to see the bullet points slowly shrink, which makes it easier to finish WIPs even if I'm stuck at one scene. Has resulted in me getting more WIPs and jumping around between them more though.

Tagging (if you want): @hxhhasmysoul @kaitakushi @yukisdomain

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

you seem really organized. are you? if yes, have you always been this way? how does one get to this point of discipline?

I'd say I'm pretty organized. I don't know if I've always been this way or if I was forced to be this way. XD Probably both. But organized looks different for everyone. I can share some things I do, though.

Everything has a designated place. I always remember where everything is if it goes back to the same place.

Use any spare time. When I have a free ten minutes (or any amount of downtime), I will use it to clear my surroundings. Even if it's as small as putting my pens in order or putting away a few things, it prevents a big mess from ever happening.

When putting things away, things I use most often are placed in easy reach. If I want to use something more often, I will move it to the front.

I am always altering my organization for optimization rather than aesthetics. I am neat, but it is more important for me to use my things. If I want to use something more often, I will make it more accessible.

Tasks are in order of priority and efficiency. I will do multiple tasks at once if I think it is most efficient - sometimes with my two hands doing two different things. I have mental checkpoints to double check to make sure I didn't miss anything. And, of course, I have priorities of each day and focus on doing those things first.

I use alarms if something is time sensitive. These days you can change alarm sounds on your clock app to customize the type of sound to alert you of different things. Most of the time I don't need it, but it's a good habit to get into. Inevitably, I will get old and will be glad I already thought to do this.

Plan ahead for your future self. I do this a lot. If I purchased a bulk meal, I will separate it to meal-sized portions and store them that way so I only need to reheat a portion instead of having to lug the whole thing out. I will order products from soonest to expire in the front to latest in the back. When I go to my stash for a replacement, I already know the stuff closest to the front needs to be used first. I can also see if I'm running out depending on how empty the space left is.

I have a good memory. I generally don't need to write things down. I will use post-its / memo pads / notes app if I want to make a list (usually for groceries, addresses, etc). I always think in order of priority. If something doesn't need my attention right now, I'll make a mental note or stick a post-it somewhere I remember to remind myself (or set an alarm on my phone) to do it later.

Rely on your strengths and supplement your weaknesses. If you need to write things down to remember them, having list notepads in handy places or purchasing a planner can work for you. Just because I don't do it doesn't mean you shouldn't. I also don't live a very busy life. My current system works for now but might not in the future which is why I'm always thinking of future ways I can adapt. There are lots of planning styles out there you can research and experiment with to make your own perfect one. If your time is very important, try time blocking. If you need to be more flexible, utilize technology (Notion, Google calendar, other pre-installed apps on your phone, etc) to reposition things if needed. Most people carry their phone around all the time; technology might be the way to go nowadays (although for students, maybe keeping a paper copy is needed in case you can't use your phone in class). Set up routines for what is fixed in your life (work, school, etc) and keep it realistic. If you're not a morning person, prep the night before (ex: meals / outfit / things you need and place it all in your leaving path so you can just pick up and go). If you are a morning person, you can batch tasks for the allotted time you have before you start your day (sleep early to prepare well for your morning routine). Keep in mind how long it takes you to do something - not how quickly you wish you could do things XD but the actual realistic time.

If you have a system in place, keep what works and change what doesn't. Don't wait. Just do it. Most of the time you can tweak a little something to make it a teeny bit easier for you. Likewise, don't overhaul things that already work for you simply because it seems inefficient to others. There's the whole "do something for 30 days and it becomes a habit", but, in my experience, things don't become habits unless you make it easy for yourself and it feels easy for you. Think about the life you lead and the life you ant to lead. You don't need to be everyone else. You only need to be you.

Some people don't need to be as organized because they like life's spontaneity. Some people need to be organized despite their nature because they have deadlines (mostly talking about school here) and so they adopt a system but discard it later (when they graduate). In this case, it can be difficult so I recommend both having a useful system that also makes you happy as you use it. Buy stationery that suit your style and make you smile. Using digital planning tools opens up even more options (including free ones) - if you need those BTS meme photos in your daily schedule to keep your spirits up throughout the day, by all means, add 'em in.

Also, if you are interested in living with someone, find someone who has the same definition of "messy" and "clean" as you. Don't police them on how they're doing it, but the end result should be the same. It'll make for a more harmonious environment, fr. Bonus if they like doing the tasks you personally hate and if you like doing the tasks they personally hate.

[hekademia]

Journaling

Why journal? I am pretty sure by now, you have heard a thousand influencers tell you that you SHOULD journal because it is magically going to clean up the mess that is your brain, organize your life, make you happier, richer, prettier, and solve world hunger. And if you are not journaling, there's probably something wrong with you.

And they're right. Not the world hunger part, unfortunately. There is prolly something wrong with you and that something is Being A Human Being. It is a the most widespread condition with a 100% of the population being chronically affected and the only available cure is Death. But let me not digress. 

Unless you are one of those gifted people blessed with mounds of motivation and crates of consistency, it can be very difficult to start and even more difficult to continue a habit such as journaling. 

I am definitely not one of the chosen ones and Heaven knows I have more dead unfinished projects than I have pages of New Year Resolutions but allow me to audaciously claim that I have cracked the code! The trick is....Just Journal. 

 Hold on hold on, do not click away yet even though Yes I am going to say the exact same thing all the ‘motivators’ before me have said. Seriously, JUST DO IT! What stops us is the thought that it is not going to be 'perfect' or 'aesthetic' enough but puhleeeezeee, Life is Not a Pinterest board, even though I sure wish it was. Just write something. Anything! My first journal entry ( just like this article I am currently writing ) was written in the middle of a boring class. It went something like this ;

25 March 2019

I'm bored.......I could cry or die srsly. Should I just sleep?? What are they gonna serve in the dining hall today?

How original eh?

I was in boarding school then, thus the strange reference to a dining hall. That was all I needed to get started.I realized I did not need to make every sentence perfect and pretty and I could use abbreviations and unconventional punctuation. I was not accountable to anyone but myself!! I just put all my rambling messy unconnected thoughts as they came into my head. No one is going to check your spelling or punctuation or if you are using enough active verbs, whatever those are. So seriously just write. 

You find out stuff you did not even know about yourself. For example I found out that I do not hate writing, as much I thought I did. What I hate is the physical activity of moving my hand. It makes my hand hurt, not that I'm lazy, although that could also be true, don’t judge me......

So please, just write. It really is an interesting pastime and writing is such a useful skill. I could talk for days on end how useful writing is for your brain, your social life, your development both personal and intellectual. Pick up a pen ( one that doesn’t make your wrist hurt, please ) and scribble awayyyyy !!!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

PS: I just got the greatest idea. Reblog with your first journal entry! It doesn’t have to be a physical journal. It could be on your phone; a notes app. Google docs, A journal app. Heck you can chisel your entry on a piece of rock, just make sure to write something!!

[coqvttes]

How do you make your post have such a pretty color gradient over the text??

Or just different shades than the ones available on Tumblr by default 🥺

hey nonnie, thanks for your ask just letting you know this only works on pc.

i use this website to change the text colours. here is the link

☆ — select the gradient type you want, i usually do horizontal and middle gradient. and pick your colours, it will give you a preview of what the text will look like with the gradient.

☆ — copy the html code all the way at the bottom and go back to tumblr.

☆ — in the tumblr post you're currently making, click on the settings icon at the top of the draft and scroll down to text editor. to the right it will usually say rich text so click on it and switch it to html.

☆ — so right now it probably has lots of words and numbers on your screen but it's not that hard to understand don't worry it looks scary. the easiest thing to do is scroll all the way down till you reach the bottom of the text and paste in the html.

☆ — then go back to the top of the draft and click preview and boom at the bottom of your post you’ll easily see it, just move the text to the desired part of the post. if you copy and paste it from the draft your currently editing you can paste it to other posts you’re making this only works if you are in edit mode on both drafts :)

note: if you have lots of images in your post it might get messed up sometimes so you'll want to just remember where all the images were. feel free to ask for any clarification if this is confusing, don't worry it gets easier once you do it regularly. hope this helps! :)

if you're wondering about the fonts i use, i use a free font app/website on my phone and computer.

[v3nusxsky]

Could you write a prequel of Could We Be Parents?

Motherhoods | fluff

*Authors note~I'm not sure how long this will be but I love it writing for momma Rissa and mommy r with my oc children. Anyone know any good programs or apps to use to draw up my oc children?*

Trigger warnings~ motherhood, PND mentioned

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You had given birth to your twin daughters Delilah Faye and Dahlia Rae two weeks ago. Larissa had been able to take two weeks leave from Nevermore and spend time with you and your two beautiful daughters. They were identical in every way, to the point others couldn't tell them apart but you and Larissa could. The subtle differences in their personalities and behaviours. Lilah liked to sleep and was often calm but Lia was fussy and didn't like to be put down. She was an amazing eater but her twin sister not so much. Having Larissa there to hold one twin while you fed the other was extremely helpful but knowing she'd be gone today was causing you to panic.

It felt like your daughters preferred their mamma, you fed them sure but it felt like that's all you ever do is feed and change them, no time to bond with either baby, but Larissa could. What kind of mother were you if you couldn't bond with them? You felt like you were failing as a mother already and they were only two weeks old.

Lia woke up crying for her six am feed and you instantly got her settled watching as your wife got ready for work. A few moments later Lilah woke and you panicked, although she wasn't crying you knew she was due her feed and the thought of her being hungry and alone while you tended to Lia was heartbreaking. "Hi my sweet girl. You're so sweet baby, yes you are. Momma will feed you next okay little love" your wife murmured checking on Lilah. You didn't realise it but tears were streaming down your cheeks. How could you do this alone? With Lia settled and asleep in her Moses basket you picked up Delilah and began to attempt to feed her. "Darling, you're doing such a good job and just know I'll be a phone call away okay? If you need me call okay?" Larissa reassured you before kissing your lips gently and bidding you goodbye. You were alone.

It was a strange but Delilah was fed and also asleep so you laid down in your shared bed and sleep claimed you. Your mind plagued with nightmares of you being a terrible mother, Larissa taking the girls and leaving you alone. It was horrid and to think it was all because you couldn't bond with them. You felt terrible and you knew mothers were meant to love unconditionally so why were you broken? Your body had grown and changed and carried them for nine months so why?

All day you'd done nothing around the apartment. The twins seemingly tag teaming you every chance they had, you hadn't gotten dressed showered or done any basic hygiene today. Delilah threw up her last feed which happened to land all over your top. Truly you couldn't help but cry. You made sure to put both now sleeping infants in their bouncing chairs before crawling over to the corner of the room and sobbing quietly to yourself.

In your upset haze you didn't even realise your wife return from work, you didn't hear her call out for you so when she found you in your current state all you could do was cry. Your hair and face a mess, clothes ruined as your breaths tried to regulate themselves you were mumbling about how you failed, a terrible mother, telling her to take the girls away she was unfit. "Couldn't stop them crying" you whimpered before she wrapped you up in her arms. "Sweetheart, why didn't you call me?" She murmured rocking you slightly being carful to not get spit up on her dress. "Need to be good mother can't rely on you" you whispered sounding absolutely broken, truly she hadn't realised you'd been feeling like this. She wanted you to bask in the beauty and glory of creating such beautiful humans.

A silence fell over you both as you struggled to contain your emotions. "Sweetheart, you are simply an amazing mother, I'm so in awe of you for carrying Lilah and lia for us and birthing them so beautifully, you've given us a family baby. Two little perfect miracles and I love our little family so much, let me take care of you okay?" She murmured kissing your head as you looked at your daughters. True beauty is what they were so you nodded and mumbled apologies until Larissa ushered you to bed to get some rest. Instantly you were asleep, the girls wouldn't need a feed for a little bit so Larissa set her plan in motion.

"Lia and lilah be good girls for auntie Mari okay?" She murmured kissing both sleeping infants heads before thanking Marilyn once more before heading out to grab some supplies. By the time she arrived back Lia had woken up fussy as Marilyn tried to soothe her. Quickly taking over she thanked Marilyn before soothing her daughter. Once Lia was settled, feed time was approaching so she often became fussy, Larissa drew you a nice bath lit some candles added a few rose petals and the lavender lemon scent you loved before waking you up.

Once the girls were fed, you headed for a soak in the water, Larissa readied the girls for bed and laid out a few gifts, just small things to make you feel special. She even dressed both infants in the "I love my mommy onsies." When you came back to the room you were greeted with two sleeping babies and a sleeping wife. Here and now you knew you were glad, although you felt bad about being a horrid mother you loved these three more than life itself, Larissa did all of this to make you feel special and remind you that no matter what those thoughts tell you, you're a wonderful mother and a wonderful wife.

Word count~ 1042