#and as someone who’s worked in a kitchen to have someone that just knows what they want but will also put their neck out to protect you?

[crystal-rebellion]

I dunno if this is helpful, but I find that the texture of a lot of commercial lotions to be unpleasant, to the point where I can't/won't use them. I've been making my own soaps for several years, so it was only natural to try making my own lotions too. Discovering that the type of oil in the lotion and the water-to-oil ratio is basically what controls the texture, I feel like I've unlocked a new super power.

Obviously this won't help folks who can't stand it on their hands at all, but for those crafty types who are fishing for a kind they can tolerate, here's a recipe to make your own. I pretty much exclusively use my own now and it's really helped.

I don't find it super difficult, and no dangerous chemicals like with soap. It probably won't be budget-friendly to start, because you'll likely need some extra ingredients you don't already have lying around, but you use so little of them when you make it that it can last for a long while. If you end up liking it and start making it regularly, I feel like it is less expensive in the longer run. AND by controlling which ingredients go into it, I can make lotion I actually can stand to have on my skin, which has really helped me use it more.

tldr for other soapers just wanting to know which oils I like? Avocado. That's it. Soft, creamy, not oily, not tacky, no residue.

Make your own 👇🥑🧴

I've linked ingredients out to Amazon because I know rural folks rely on it, and people with a need to do this asap will want things immediately (hello thats me). My go-to supplier outside of Amazon is company located in Washington state named Brambleberry, and they will also have all of this stuff (they also donate to some good charities, too.). It will take a bit longer, and there will be a shipping fee too, so see what works best for you. (They have amazing fragrances, too, if that's your bag. For anyone who's tried my soap, most of my fragrances come from them.)

Note 1: Everything is measured by weight. These numbers look a little rando because my (round number) recipe makes like, a buttload of bottles, so I've reduced the recipe it to about 10-12 ounces of lotion)

Note 2: This lotion recipe makes a creamy, moderately thick lotion. If your texture preference is more on the runny side, you can up the water content. I haven't experimented with it too much, so I'd guess 30 grams, but play with it and have fun. You can't do harm with this.

Water: 187.5 grams (Distilled ideal, filtered tap works fine.)

Oil: 37.5 grams (Avocado Oil; can also be found in many local grocers as well as Costco. Olive Oil works well too, but in my experience, it's a little more oily in the lotion.)

Emulsifying Wax: 12.5 grams (binds the oil to the water and lets it mix)

Stearic Acid: 10 grams (thickening agent and stabilizer to keep it from separating back out)

Optiphen Preservative: 2.5 grams (this is important; since lotion is 75% water, unless you intend to use all of your lotion within a week, you will grow fuzzies in it without this; if you want to do some research on alternatives, you'll want to look for oil-based preservative)

Optional: Fragrance* or essential oil of your choice: .7 grams (Or a few drops)

Other things you need: Kitchen Scale, container for the lotion, stick blender/egg beater/whisk, two microwave-safe bowls. Glass preferred, plastic okay as long as its microwave safe. One bowl will ultimately need to be large enough to hold all of the ingredients combined.

THERMOMETER - this dude is amazing and would recommend just having one in general. Regular stick ones work fine, but will be slow.

Safety gear needed: None, really. Gloves if you don't like the texture of the lotion.

That's it! That's all that goes in your lotion! As someone who also makes soap, I do not use the same bowls for my cooking as my crafting. But for lotion, you can use cooking bowls. Just... wash them well after, or your next meal may taste like ass.

Because I make products to sell to other people, I run all my equipment through a brewing sanitizer - including the bottle(s) and pumps the lotion will be in, just to be super duper sure that no fuzzies get introduced. Basically just fill the sink with hot water, toss in a capful or two and then rinse. I'll leave it up to you if you want to skip this step or not for personal use, it's kind of an annoying one.

HERE WE GO

If you're going to disinfect, do that first. Only items that need to be totally dry is the bowl you'll be putting your oil in.

In one bowl, weigh out your oil of choice, the emulsifying wax, the stearic acid and heat it slowly in the microwave in bursts of about 20 seconds, stopping to stir. Eventually the emulsifying wax and the stearic acid will have melted into the oil.

In a separate bowl, measure out your water, and warm it in the microwave as well, until it's about the same temperature as your oil/wax/acid mix.

With your stick blender/egg beater/whisk handy (if you have a stick blender available, use this. Your hand will thank you. This can be done with a whisk, but it takes longer.), add the two sets of ingredients together into whichever bowl is larger and whisk. Relatively quickly, it should go from this translucent oil to a milky, creamy color. Good. No need to keep mixing once it's milky and uniform.

We want to wait until the temperature drops to below 140F (60C) before adding in the preservative (otherwise the heat will break it down and make it useless). If adding any fragrance, then would also be the time to do so, and blend a bit more to make sure it's all mixed in.

And that's it! Pour it into your container of choice! The warmer it is when you pour it, the more 'liquid' it will be. As it cools, it will thicken and become creamier.

Handling the hot lotion is safe, other than if the temperature is too warm. This particular recipe is very creamy; if you like your lotion more runny, then add more water as you're blending it.

And that's it, you've made lotion. It can be used immediately, even straight from the bowl.

Happy lotion making!

Note on fragrances:

*If you are using a fragrance, please make sure it's skin safe. Adding more than the suggested amount to the recipe could cause irritation on the skin. Most 'fragrances' sold at stores like Walmart are intended for oil diffusers and may not be skin-safe. Essential oils are usually fine since they're being diluted by the lotion; never apply them directly to the skin. The shop I like for my purchases, Brambleberry, has a bazillion fragrances, and each one details what it can and cannot be used for. (Not an affiliate link, I just really like them. Great equipment if you're interested in actually doing it seriously. Tons of tutorials too; pretty much how I got into the craft in the first place.)

cracked and bleeding hands are not more tolerable than the feeling of lotion

[stardust-thief]

look after you

an: this my first x reader fic LMAOO, i needed to write smth and this spencer was on my brain :// i am in the middle of a rly long donna fic but i cba this was much easier. also i absolutley have not proof read this sorry

synopsis: you get hurt while hunting down an unsub, after some reluctance (and kind words from papa rossi) you let spencer take care of you, 1.7k words

cw: descriptions of violence, panic attack, spencer swears and can drive (the most un-canon thing abt him) umm italians..., the rest is just fluffy, hurt/comfort, x reader but no y/n

masterlist

The unsub had his gun pointed at you, the cold press of the barrel against flesh. He was ranting and raving about needing to be seen and understood, having spent his childhood in emotional neglect. Teachers and parents failed him at every turn, it’s not his fault that this happened but he can fix it if he just drops the gun. Rossi tried to tell him this over and over, but he only got more angry, pushing the gun in harder and harder. 

If you were to open your eyes, you would’ve seen JJ and Luke there too, guns trained on the unsub. Their eyes glancing between you, the unsub, and the gun. But you didn’t. Not until the bang went off and you could breathe again. 

The flashing lights of the ambulance do nothing to dissuade the pressing headache you feel coming on, the movement of people helps even less. You watch as the EMT’s cart the unsub away on a gurney, sheet covering him. 

“You okay, kid?” Rossi asks from beside you, he had been hovering ever since the ambulance arrived. 

“I’m fine, just need a good night's rest. I’ll be good as new.” You hummed half-heartedly. 

David Rossi always knew when someone was lying to him, part of that talent comes from his job as a profiler, but it’s mostly because of some ancient Italian magic. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me. Look, Hotch is on his way with Reid and Emily. They’re gonna be taking some witness statements, but I imagine Boy Wonder will be a little distracted. I want you to let him take care of you, ok? You’ve been through hell tonight kid, let him worry.”

Italians never lie, although you wish they did. Spencer had very obviously caught feelings for you, everyone on the team could see it. Unfortunately, so could you. Spencer Reid was one of the kindest, most genuine people you had ever met, always putting other people's needs before his own. A voice in your head kept telling you that there is nothing you have done to deserve someone like him doting all over you? You had only brought trouble to the people who loved you. Eventually you learned that it was better to just keep everyone at a distance; if you don’t let them in, they can’t get hurt. Which worked well, up until Spencer.

He had such a wormy way of getting into your brain at the worst times; whether it was when you were alone in your kitchen, or at slightly dangerous, very inappropriate times on a case. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupidly cute (and sometimes ill-timed) facts. Some part of you wanted to let him in, in the end the stubborn side always took over. 

Before long, you heard the worried cries of Spencer trying to find you in the chaos. Rossi called his name and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Remember, you deserve to be looked after too.” and left to find Hotch.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We tried to get here as soon as we could, but they managed to take down the unsub right? What happened, did he hurt you? How did you get so close? Talk to me are-” Oh, how he rambles. 

“Spencer, I’m fine. I just need to… rest, you know. He didn’t hurt me that bad, just a sprained wrist, couple bruises. Could’ve been worse.”

He spluttered, “Could’ve- you know, that doesn’t make this any better, I was so worried about you. He had a fucking gun to your head, I was going insane thinking about what could’ve happened. What did the EMT say about your wrist?”

“Just to rest it, and use an ice pack if it starts to swell or hurt.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, he was so worried about you. It made butterflies dance in your belly, but there was a twinge of guilt there too. He was so busy, he worked so hard and then went home to look after his mom. He had too much on his plate, how could you add more to it? “Spence, I’m really sorry about worrying you. I should be fine to leave now, so I’ll just head home and sleep it off. Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the ambulance, eyes focused downwards, restless fingers fidgeting with the already frayed bandage.

“No- wait what are you talking about? You’re gonna drive yourself home in this condition? I can’t let you do that, even thinking about it makes me feel sick.” He lowered his head to yours and spoke softer this time, “Please let me take you home. I don’t have to stay, I just want to make sure you’re ok, ok?”

Fuck that voice did things to you. Leaning from side to side, you thought about what Rossi had said earlier. Maybe, it was ok to let someone in? It would be cruel to let him suffer more, not knowing if you were ok or somehow got in a car crash with 5 other vehicles on your way home. Just this once, you think.

Looking up into his soft eyes, you give a small nod. His lips immediately turned up into a smile, his hand comes up to cup your head, fingers stroking your cheek. It felt… nice. His thumb was calloused but he still moisturised enough for it to feel smooth, and he smelled like lemongrass and ginger. His hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you to his car. Ever the gentlemen, he opened your door and softly placed his hand over your head as you got in. Manoeuvring himself into the driver's side, he pulled out his phone and typed something, then quickly stuffed it away into a pocket and turned on the engine.

The sky was dark when you woke up. The unsub had a gun to your head at dusk, and Spencer was walking into your apartment when the moon was out. He took off his shoes and the door, and walked into your living room.

“I’ve never been here before,” he mused. “I like it.”

He looked at ease wandering around your apartment, his shoulders had relaxed and he let out soft musings as he perused your photo collections.

“Oh Spencer, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” You tried (with not a lot of effort) to pull him away from the frame.

“No this is cute, was this when you were at University?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you.

Oh my god. “Yeah, um- those were some of my friends at the time. I try and keep in touch but, you know.”

He hummed, pulling you closer into him. Finally content, he looked down at you. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged, “just a little tender now.”

“Where’s your kitchen, I can get some ice.”

“Spence-” you wanted to tell him no, to go home and look after himself. But his body was so warm, having him so close to you melted your brain, leaving you unable to think of any good reason as to why he should leave. “It’s the first door on the right.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he swiftly navigated you to the sofa, and turned to leave for the kitchen. The cold of the apartment rushed to get you as soon as he unraveled his arms. You hadn’t been alone all day since the unsubs attack, it somehow felt more claustrophobic. His hand on your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. The way he grabbed your arm, contorting it so he could throw you to the ground. The gun, pressed into your forehead. The knowledge that the only thing between you being alive, and you being in a ditch, was a madman's finger on the trigger. Reality faded as each memory pressed further and further into your mind. You weren’t in your apartment anymore, you could feel the cold concrete beneath your hands. The thick air in your lungs, Rossi and the unsub shouting.

A hand on your knee, a soft voice bringing you back. There was no unsub, no gun to your head. You were alive. You were alive and Spencer was in your apartment, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face.

“You with me?” His voice was so soft, you couldn’t recall ever hearing Spencer raise his voice in anger. He was so gentle when he touched you. 

The floodgates burst, choked sobs made their way past your lips. Your shoulder shook as you cried, pressing yourself into Spencer’s arms. “Oh honey,” He murmured, pressing his lips into your head, softly rocking you back and forth as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was too much. You could have died today. Very nearly did. You weren’t ready to die, not yet at least.

As your cries softened into hiccups, you pushed yourself back from Spencer. “I’m sorry, that was so disgusting. It just all- I don’t know.”

 “Hey, you don’t ever have to apologise to me ok? What you went through was really scary, I’d honestly be more shocked if you didn’t cry.” His hand moved to draw soothing shapes along your back as you leaned back into him. “You want to watch something to calm down? I brought you some water and an ice pack for your wrist.”

He would be the death of you. You nod and push yourself back into the sofa, moving your wrist to rest in your lap. Spencer gently places the ice pack across your wrist and grips the tips of your fingers. He leans forward to push your cup of water towards you and grabs the TV remote, then turns and leans back so your side is pressed into his front. Truthfully, Spencer didn’t seem like the type to watch cable TV but he navigated the menu with somewhat ease. 

“Look at what’s on! It’s your favourite isn’t it, you want me to put it on.” He said as he nudged your shoulder.

He remembered your favourite film, of course he would remember it he has an eidetic memory. You hummed a yes as you relaxed your body further into his, finally content. Maybe Rossi was right, having Spencer close really wasn’t so bad after all.

[hyperfocusthusly]

Lifelines

——-

Part one here

——-

Tommy leads them up to the front door, shifting her up onto his shoulder, holds her in one arm, hand cradling her head while he opens the door. She snuffles reaching out in sleepy blindness. He tilts his head towards her, presses a kiss to her forehead. Her little hand grasps around until she finds the shell of his ear and settles immediately.

“She’s cute.”

“Ava, her name is Ava.”

He glances up the stairs, normally he would put her down. The one blessing in all of this is that Ava is as big a fan of sleeping as Tommy. He doesn’t want to put her down now, instead he picks the small blanket off the back of the sofa and tucks it around her. He sits down and immediately remembers he’s supposed to be making coffee. He sighs and goes to get up again, but Chimney is quicker.

“Kitchen in there?” He asks, pointing out of the door and down the hall.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to, I can-“ he is cut off by a wave of Chimney’s hand.

“Sit down man, I remember what this bit is like, I’ll make the coffee.”

——-

“My sister died. Her husband too. A car wreck.”

Chimney winces. He knew that it wasn’t going to be good.

“I’m sorry.” It doesn’t feel like anything close to enough.

Tommy scrubs his face with his free hand.

“I don’t how to do this Howie.” Tommy swallows around the lump in his throat. The admission that had been swirling in his mind for the last two months, finally said out loud.

Chimney makes a sympathetic sound.

“I was taking her to this group but- it’s stupid, everyone thinks I’m her dad, and when I tell them I’m just her Uncle they- they look at me differently. Like I’m not part of their club, like-” he hears his voice crack, he closes his eyes and forces himself to take a breath.

“I haven’t gone the last couple of weeks.”

“Something happened?”

“One of the mums, she didn’t mean to, she was just trying to make conversation.” He chews on his lip. “She asked what Ava’s parents do for work.”

Chimney blows out a breath.

“And I just couldn’t, I couldn’t speak. I felt like she’d just punched me in the face.” He laughs humourlessly. “I’d probably have felt better if she had. I haven’t gone back. I can’t even think about it because-” the edge of his vision begins to blur. “Because if I think about it then- I’ll never be her parent. W-what if I can’t do it? What if I just drag her down with me and-“ A tear slips free, he’s hyper aware of it as it tracks down his cheek.

Chimney shifts on the couch, puts his hand on Tommy’s knee.

“I know. When Kevin died, it felt like I was falling. All the time.” Chimney ducks his head. “He’d been there my whole life, and then he just wasn’t. So I get it.” He looks up, meeting Tommy’s gaze. “But if there’s one thing I’ve always known about you, it’s that you come through. It’s doesn’t matter what it is, you show up. That’s all she needs. She just needs someone who is going to show up for her, that’s enough.”

Tommy takes a shaky breath, the doubt clear on his face.

“She’s so little. I just- I don’t know how I’ll ever explain to her what happened. That I’m not who she thinks I am.”

“I mean it, you are enough. And if you need some help then that’s not you failing, Tommy. An 8 month old by yourself is no picnic, I would know.”

“I don’t-“ he swallows harshly. “I don’t want to put you in that position.”

“In what position? Helping out a friend?”

“You know what I mean.”

Chimney sighs.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. But if you think he wouldn’t be twice as mad about me knowing and not helping then-” he stops short. It hangs between them.

“What happened? You guys seemed so good and the next thing I know I’m drowning in poppy seed loaf.”

Tommy shoots him a quizzical look.

“He’s dealing with it by baking. A lot. Honestly it’s getting to be an issue.”

“He asked me to move in with him.”

Chimney does a great job of not spitting out the sip of coffee he was taking.

“He did what?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No, oh my god, that’s so Buck of him. All in, all the time.”

Tommy chuckles, but the humour quickly drains.

“It scared the shit out of me. I’ve done this before and it doesn’t matter how much I l-” he cuts himself off. “I’m not the guy people end up with.”

“So you ran?”

“Haven’t you heard Howie? Running is the only thing I’m really good at.”

“Hey, that’s not true. You’re pretty nifty with a helicopter.”

Tommy smiles, but it’s tight.

“I was going to call, I was and then-” he clenched his jaw. “It doesn’t matter now anyway.” He turns his head, resting his cheek against Ava’s.

“If your biggest problem was that you cared about him so much that it gave you the jitters, then I think it very much does matter.”

Tommy shakes his head minutely.

“What am I supposed to say? You went too fast and scared me, I need to be able to slow down and make sure we’re doing this right. Oh and by the way I have a child now.” Chimney rolls his eyes exaggeratedly.

“Well you could take the sarcasm down a notch and give him some credit.” There’s the slightest tinge of sharpness to Chimney’s voice. His phone chimes and he glances down at the screen.

“I’ve got to go, just- just call him. Tell him what you told me. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you don’t just let go of something like this.” He stands, picking up the mugs from the coffee table and taking them into the kitchen. For a moment Tommy thinks he might just leave, but he doesn’t. Instead he crouches down next to the couch, gives Tommy a soft look.

“I meant it, when I said I would help. I’ll come by next week, we can go for a walk or something - or I can take her and give you a break. Whatever you need.”

Tommy feels his heart clench inside his chest.

“Yeah, okay. That would be good.”

“Great.”

Chimney heads to the door, just before he closes it he yells back into the house.

“Call him!”

The door clicks shut and Tommy feels like his entire body turns into jelly. An indeterminate amount of time later he forces himself up off the couch, takes Ava upstairs and gently lays her down in her crib. He pulls out his phone and finds the contact.

He takes a deep breath and presses the call button.

——-

[Read on A03]

Winner of the name! that! baby! event is the lovely @rubydaiquiri 🥳🥳🥳 Ava stole my heart! Thank you to everyone who gave me suggestions and the feedback on the first part blew me away, you are all truly amazing 🫶🏻

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed);

@leashybebes @beanarie @partofthelouniverse @big-urchin-energy @loucifersbitch @fyrehose @evansbuck-ley @sad-girl-hours23 @certifiedbisexualdisaster @theweewooshow @beckym2001 @kinardevans @bidisasterevankinard

@sweaters-and-silly @apassingbird @sunnywithachanceofbi @theotherbuckley @desert--moonchild @comfortingevanbuckley @livelaughlou @typicalopposite @wikiangela @bi-bi-buckleys @littlepaws9 @ohithankyou

@agentpeggycartering @sherlockismarvelous9-1-1 @adiprose @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @honeyloulou @tommykinard @casismybestfriend @owlgirl495 @hellion-child @3min17sec @sherlocking-out-loud @o0anapher0o @sorryimlatecapt

@buffaluff @hipsterdarcy @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @that-one-dudette @aringofsalt @cliophilyra @bisexualmadney @reginamillls @zeraparker @harmonic-intervention

[sooyaumvm]

interruption — summary. 'being interrupted during a intimate moment wasn't on your bingo'

characters ;; Octotrio tags ;; reader is gender neutral(lipstick is mentioned on azul's part), reader is yuu, a lil teasing, romantic/fluff

Azul Ashengrotto was a refined man

that's what he likes to think at least, he has created a great reputation for himself, he had the awesome Moutro lounge and even had his incredible contracts to offer though the position he is in right now does not match his cultured persona, in this moment he finds himself sitting on his office chair having his face smudged and marked by your new lipstick, the one he bought for you actually "Dearest I think that's enough-" you frown at his words "it's not enough, I'll know when it's enough" Azul sighs but allows you to continue on your small task that until he hears a knock on his door his eyes widen at the realization someone was at the door and he wouldn't be able to fix himself before they enter the room when you let go of his face and turn to look at the door you hear a laugh, one you learned to recognize too well by now Floyd is stading there and ready to talk when his brother interrupt him "Looks like we will have to come back later, my apologies" you can sense how Jade was holding back his own laughs while pulling his brother and the poor student they brought out of Azul's office, instantly when the door closes you feel your boyfriend melting under you "Let's remember to lock the door next time, please"

Jade Leech was a man who prouded himself

He believed he had mastered the art of observation. Initially, understanding the landman's customs was challenging, but he prided himself on his adaptability. As a curious person, his interest in you was expected, but falling for you was unexpected. Nonetheless, here we are — while you were working a shift at Mounstro Lounge, you needed money, and Azul would never refuse a new employee anyway. You've been dating Jade for a while now, and on a little break between attending orders and fetching the food, you ended up here, sitting on the counter and making out with him. You had your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and his own hands were on your waist. Your hands slowly got higher, reaching his hair and tugging it a bit. You could feel him smirking on your mouth; you don't know when he became such a good kisser until "OH- I'M- I- I WAS- I'M SO SORRY!" You abruptly let go of Jade and looked behind him. An Octavinelle student was standing there, all flustered from what he had encountered. He stormed outside of the kitchen without further warning. Jade looked at you and chuckled, "It looks like we got him a little show." The way Jade says that made you scoff before getting off the counter and going back to what you were doing before being attacked by him. "You're just going to leave me like that?" Jade says in a sad, mocking way, but with his usual smile on his face. "Yes, I will," you say before leaving

Floyd Leech was a menace

Everyone knew that, so when you first started dating him, everyone thought two things: 1. You were crazy or 2. He was threatening you. But in reality, it wasn't either of them; you just loved him. So that's why right now you're taking advantage of the time alone you two have without Grim to pick a fight with him to just enjoy your time with him. You were kissing him normally when you felt him smirk on your neck, which is not a great sign. "My turn now," he said with a grin that showed his sharp teeth. He suddenly switched positions, having you laying on the used couch of Ramshackle. He kissed you before going for your neck; he kissed you before affectionately biting you, making you gasp from surprise. But that gasp rapidly turned into a laugh when he continued to kiss and carefully bite you. When he was about to bite your collarbone, you heard a "OH!" You fastly pushed your boyfriend from on top of you to be greeted by Ace's shocked face and Deuce's flustered self. "Wow there, prefect, didn't know you had that on you," Ace said with a smirk. "Ne, Crabby, why don't you come back later? I was kind of busy here," your boyfriend said with his eerie smile. "Uh—we—I—he," Deuce stuttered. "I wanted to see my henchman! you get me?" Grim said with his fake confidence Floyd's grin widened. "I think that's enough, okay? Come here, Grim," you say, patting your side. "Thank you for bringing him, you two," you say to the duo at the door. Ace whistled. "No problem, prefect, just warn us when you're making out with your scary boyfriend," Floyd looks at him with a smirk. "Or maybe you can learn to knock?" you say to him with a smile.

im really sorry if this is not great, i think its so hard to write Floyd and Jade and its so easy to mischaracterizate them 😵‍💫

[the-oblivious-writer]

A Hard Day's Night

Sam Carpenter x Reader

One-Shot

Summary: After a hard day's night, only you know what to do to make Sam feel okay.

Warning(s): References to past trauma, brief mentions to workplace harassment, no pronouns, and they kiss and bathe together but it's not explicit.

Notes: More one-shot angst coming your way. Here's a soft blow in the mean time!

You hear Sam before you see her - the jangle of keys, the tired thud of her bag hitting the floor, and an exhausted sigh that seems to come from somewhere deep in her soul. Working at a coffee shop might not be as intense as some of her past experiences, but you know how draining customer service can be, especially for someone carrying as much weight on their shoulders as Sam does.

"I'm home," she calls out, her voice carrying a slight rasp of fatigue. You peek around the corner from the kitchen, where you've been preparing a surprise dinner, and catch sight of her slumped against the doorframe. Her dark hair is coming loose from its ponytail, and there's a coffee stain on the sleeve of her work shirt.

"Rough day?" you ask softly, already knowing the answer from the way she's holding herself - shoulders tight, jaw clenched just a bit too hard. Some habits die hard, even now that things have settled down.

Sam lets out a hollow laugh, running a hand through her hair. "You could say that. Some guy spent fifteen minutes arguing with me about the difference between a macchiato and a latte. Then had the nerve to tell me I should 'smile more.'" She rolls her eyes, but you can see the tension radiating through her frame.

"Come here," you say, opening your arms. She hesitates for just a moment - another old habit, that instinct to stay guarded - before crossing the room and melting into your embrace. You can feel some of the rigidity leave her body as she presses her face into your shoulder.

"You smell like garlic bread," she mumbles against your shirt, and you can feel her smile.

"That's because I'm making your favorite - my grandmother's lasagna recipe." You press a kiss to her temple. "I had a feeling you might need some comfort food tonight."

She pulls back slightly, looking up at you with those expressive eyes that first drew you in. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," you say simply, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Besides, you've been working so hard lately. You deserve to be taken care of sometimes."

The vulnerability that flashes across her face makes your heart ache. Sometimes you forget how new this still is for her - having someone who wants to take care of her, no strings attached, no hidden agendas. Just love, pure and simple.

"The lasagna needs another twenty minutes," you continue, letting your hands slide down to her shoulders, feeling the knots of tension there. "How about you go change into something comfortable, and I'll run you a bath?"

"With the lavender bath salts?" she asks, a hint of playfulness creeping into her voice.

"Of course. Only the best for my overworked barista."

She laughs - a real laugh this time, not the hollow sound from before - and stretches up to press a soft kiss to your lips. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"Existed," you reply simply, earning another kiss.

While Sam changes out fo her cloths, you busy yourself running the bath, adding her favorite lavender bath salts and lighting a few candles. The bathroom fills with soft, warm light and soothing scents. You can hear her humming quietly in the bedroom - a habit she's picked up from you, though she'd never admit it.

When she emerges in her favorite towel, her face freshly washed and hair loose around her shoulders, your breath catches a little. Even after all this time, moments like these still get to you - seeing her soft and unguarded, trusting you with these vulnerable moments.

"Bath's ready whenever you are," you say, pulling her close again. "Want me to wash your hair?"

She practically purrs at the suggestion. "Yes, please." Then, after a pause: "Join me?"

You raise an eyebrow. "What about the lasagna?"

"We can reheat it," she says, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. "Right now, I just want to be close to you."

How can you resist when she looks at you like that? You set a timer on your phone for the lasagna, then follow her into the bathroom. The steam has made everything slightly hazy, the candlelight creating dancing shadows on the walls. Sam strips off her clothes without ceremony - she's never been shy around you - and sinks into the hot water with a contented sigh.

You take your time undressing, watching as she tilts her head back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, tension visibly melting from her frame. When you slide in behind her, she immediately leans back against your chest, fitting perfectly in the space between your legs.

"Better?" you murmur, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"Mmm," she hums in agreement. "Much better."

You reach for the shampoo, working it through her dark strands with gentle fingers. Sam practically melts under your touch as you massage her scalp, working out the tension from the day. It's these quiet moments you treasure most - when all the walls come down, when she lets herself be completely vulnerable with you.

"Want to talk about it?" you ask softly, knowing sometimes she needs to process things out loud.

She's quiet for a moment, letting you work the conditioner through her hair. "It's not just the annoying customers," she finally says. "It's… everything. Sometimes I still catch myself looking over my shoulder, expecting… you know." She doesn't have to finish the thought. You know all too well what ghosts she's carrying.

"That's normal," you remind her gently, running your fingers through her hair to work out any tangles. "After everything you've been through? It would be weird if you didn't have those moments."

She turns slightly in your arms, water lapping at the edges of the tub. "How do you always know exactly what to say?"

"Because I know you," you reply simply. "And I love you. All of you - even the parts that are still healing."

The vulnerability in her eyes takes your breath away. She leans in, kissing you slow and deep, her wet hands coming up to cup your face. You can taste the trust on her lips, the gratitude, the love that sometimes still overwhelms her with its intensity.

When you break apart, she rests her forehead against yours. "I love you too," she whispers. "So much it scares me sometimes."

"Good thing you're the bravest person I know then," you say with a soft smile, earning a quiet laugh.

You stay in the bath until the water starts to cool and your timer goes off, reminding you about dinner. Sam protests when you insist on getting out, but the promise of food - and more cuddles - eventually convinces her. You wrap her in your fluffiest towel, pressing kisses to her shoulders as you help her dry off.

The lasagna is perfect when you pull it out of the oven, the cheese golden and bubbling. Sam inhales deeply, closing her eyes in appreciation. "God, that smells amazing."

You serve up generous portions, adding garlic bread on the side, and settle onto the couch rather than at the table. Sam curls into your side immediately, balancing her plate on her lap. The first bite draws a moan of appreciation that makes you grin.

"Good?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"Perfect," she sighs contentedly. "You're perfect."

You kiss her temple. "Far from it. But I try my best for you."

The evening settles into a comfortable rhythm after that. You put on one of her favorite movies - something light and funny, nothing with too much violence or suspense - and she gradually relaxes completely against you, her head in your lap as you run your fingers through her damp hair.

"Thank you," she says softly during a quiet moment in the film. "For taking care of me tonight. For always taking care of me."

"Always," you promise, meaning it with every fiber of your being. "You've carried enough weight on your own. Let me help shoulder some of it."

She turns her face into your stomach, hiding the emotion you know is written across it. You don't push, just keep stroking her hair, letting her process in her own time. When she looks back up at you, her eyes are slightly wet but there's a smile on her face.

"Move in with me," she says suddenly, pushing herself up to look at you properly.

You blink, caught off guard. "What?"

"Move in with me," she repeats, more confident now. "You're here most nights anyway. And… I sleep better when you're here. Everything's better when you're here."

Your heart feels like it might burst. "Are you sure? I know how important having your own space is to you…"

"You are my safe space," she says simply, and oh, how those words make your chest ache with love for her. "Please? Say yes?"

As if there was ever any doubt. "Yes," you breathe, pulling her into a kiss that says everything words can't quite capture. She laughs against your lips, bright and happy, and you can feel her smile.

"We can start moving your stuff this weekend," she says excitedly, already making plans. "The closet in the spare room can be your office space - I know you need somewhere quiet to write. And-"

You cut her off with another kiss, amused and charmed by her enthusiasm. "Slow down, love. We've got all the time in the world to figure it out."

She settles back against you, practically glowing with happiness. "All the time in the world," she repeats softly, like she's testing out how the words feel. "I like the sound of that."

Later, when you're both in bed, Sam curled around you like she's afraid you might disappear, you think about how far she's come. How far you both have come. From those first tentative conversations over coffee, to helping her work through her trauma, to building this life together - every step has been worth it.

"I can hear you thinking," she mumbles sleepily against your neck.

You smile into the darkness. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."

She makes a noise of disagreement. "I'm the lucky one."

"How about we're both lucky?" you compromise, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Mm, deal," she agrees, already drifting off. "Love you."

"Love you too," you whisper, holding her close as her breathing evens out into sleep. "Sweet dreams, my brave girl."

And as you follow her into sleep, you think about tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after that. About building a life together, one day at a time, helping each other heal and grow and love. It won't always be easy - you both know that better than most - but nights like this remind you that it will always, always be worth it.

Because at the end of a hard day's work, this is what matters: coming home to each other, finding peace in each other's arms, and knowing that whatever comes next, you'll face it together.

-----------

A/N: "He can talk, then, can he?" - "Of course, he can talk. He's a human being, isn't he?" - "Well if he's your grandfather, who knows? Ha ha ha ha!"

[stellamarielu]

hi! I’d like to request Declan x younger reader and they are at a party at his house and he hears someone (maybe even Patrick??) flirting with her so he whisks her away to go dance so he’s the only man who can touch her

like father, like son

declan o’hara x female reader

summary: declan overhears his son flirting with you and he can’t help but get a little possessive

content: 18+, cursing, sexual themes, alludes to smut but no actual smut, jealous declan!!!

author’s note: hey so i went a little rogue on this request my bad. patrick is such a cutie i had to🤭 also why am i incapable of just writing a little blurb lmao. i always end up a with a whole ass oneshot

-

it was the annual o'hara new years eve party that doubled as patrick's birthday celebration and you were pushing your way through the overly crowded foyer of the priory.

that's when patrick saw you, he was convinced he had never seen someone so captivating. he immediately leaned over to his younger sister.

"who the hell is that?" he was yelling over the music.

"oh that's daddy's new assistant!" taggie answered with a bright smile as she watched people dancing in the room ahead of her.

patrick's jaw nearly dropped in shock.

he recalled his father mentioning a new employee being hired to help with all of the prep work for his show, but he just figured it was some dorky, young 20-something desperate to get their foot in the door of the investigative journalism world.

never in a million years had he pictured it to be an intoxicatingly gorgeous young woman.

as soon as he's processed this newfound revelation, patrick's feet are moving in pursuit of his father.

declan was across the room laughing with freddie jones when his son found him.

"there he is. the birthday boy!" wearing a proud smile declan was clapping patrick on the shoulder.

judging by the overbearing greeting, patrick could only guess his father was on his second- maybe third drink of the evening.

"yeah i was hoping for just a minute with you really quick." patrick reached for his dad's shoulder, returning the greeting.

with a quick "happy birthday" to patrick and a friendly gesture to declan, freddie saw himself off to the dance floor.

"you didn't tell me your assistant was hot."

the words are rolling off patrick's tongue the second he's alone with his dad.

"i'm sorry? didn't realize i had to disclose that to you."

declan was laughing– genuinely chuckling, at his son's implied accusation as he took another sip of his drink.

"I mean jesus dad, she's insanely hot. she can't be that much older than me, tell me i've got a chance?"

patrick is speaking to declan but his eyes are scanning the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of you.

declan all but chokes on his drink.

there was no way on earth he would set you up with his son.

obviously it would be innapropriate and unprofessional. you dating his son could only lead to an eventual messy breakup which would just make things awkward at the office.

oh and there was also one other tiny little thing that kept him from wanting to pair the two of you together,

declan had been fucking you for the past three weeks.

the relationship between you and declan may have been a confidential matter, but he was very much enthralled with you. what started as a quick release ended with him begging you for exclusivity. of course you agreed to secretly date the man because you were equally as smitten with him.

so hearing patrick talk so openly about wanting to 'get with you', had him tensing up. declan didn't share and especially not with his son.

"you know I think she may actually have a lad back home now that I think about it." declan is lying through his teeth as he smiles at his son.

"guess i'll go find out."

patrick is patting his dad on the back and throwing him a cheeky wink as his eyes finally find you in the crowd. you’re walking into the kitchen and he’s now trailing off in the same direction.

you had barely entered the room, quiet and hidden away from the rest of the home, when you heard footsteps behind you.

when you turn toward the noise you’re met with a handsome young man with dark curly hair and a gorgeous smile. who was this guy and how on earth had you never noticed him in rutshire before?

"I don't believe we've met." he's extending his hand to you and you find his voice just as charming as his smile.

"no we haven't." your giggling at how upfront the kid is as you shake his hand and give him your name.

"such a lovely name." he's complimenting you, keeping your hand in his. he’s fixated on how delicate your touch is.

"and you are..." you initiate his introduction while he's busy staring at you with the sweetest puppy dog eyes.

"oh god, yeah. uh- patrick." he finally gives you his name at the end of a chuckle.

everything about him is just so endearing. normally guys around your age are repulsive and pretentious but this guy seems so genuine. his eyes are kind and his smile is so adorable and- oh my god. patrick. as in patrick o'hara. the birthday boy. declan's son.

"shit you're declan's son." your outburst has patrick’s eyes wide with amusement.

"oh, it's so nice to finally meet you, he's told me so much about you.”

you're recovering from your embarrassing outburst of realization, laughing at yourself and smiling at the young man in front of you.

you can see the resemblance now; the curly hair, the gentle eyes, the dreamy smile. it was all so declan.

“all good things i hope.” his sweet smile was now somewhat sultry.

“well of course. you’re his pride and joy you know?” your voice was playful. patrick was obsessed.

“please tell me how you ended up working for my father. i can’t imagine how someone as stunning as you is being sent on silly errands and making copies all day.”

if he weren’t so damn cute you would’ve been a little offended by patrick’s comment, but he was only trying to compliment you. his charming demeanor proved to be the motivation behind his words.

“i do a lot more than run errands and make copies.” you say to him with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on your lips.

his smile suddenly drops and you can see him beginning to regret his previous statement.

“sorry that made me sound like such a dick.” his words were rushed and you could tell he felt truly apologetic.

“it’s okay, really. i’m just flattered you called me stunning.”

you were grinning at him, hoping to reassure patrick that he didn’t need to apologize.

“you are stunning. breathtaking actually.”

he’s taking a step toward you and your body instantly freezes.

“i noticed you the minute you walked in. couldn’t take my eyes off you.” his tone is enticing- almost sensual, but his facial expression is still so warm and kind.

you’re both locked in on one another when you hear someone clear their throat in the doorway. you take a step back from patrick, a little too quickly.

declan comes waltzing into the kitchen, an empty glass in his hand.

“well if it isn’t my favorite assistant and my favorite son.” he’s smiling to himself as he strides across the room, barely paying the two of you any attention.

“sorry to interrupt.”

he doesn’t sound very apologetic as he opens the cupboard and retrieves a half empty bottle of expensive looking liquor.

“caitlin’s out there looking for you, i told her i’d hunt you down.” he’s eyeing patrick as he pours himself another glass of whiskey.

“okay uh yeah.” patrick is fumbling over his words as he looks between you and his dad.

“i’ll find you later yeah?” he’s giving you a hopeful gaze as he gently touches your forearm.

“sounds good.” you reply giving him one last smile as he turns to leave.

declan waits until his son is long gone before he speaks.

“looks like patrick’s got the hots for ya.” he’s stalking toward you with a devilish grin on his face.

“must run in the family.” he’s chuckling darkly at his own joke as he stands just inches away from you.

“very funny.” your voice is dripping with sarcasm.

your remark has declan bringing his hands to your hips, pulling you into his broad chest.

“i’m not surprised though. i think every man in this town would flirt with you if given the chance.”

with his hands still on your hips you can feel him swaying to whatever song was coming from the next room over.

you reach up, slinging your arms around his neck. the two of you dancing sweetly to the slow beat of the music.

“he’s a good kid.” your head is resting on declan and you can feel his words like a hum on his chest.

“maybe you’d be better off with him.” declan’s words are quiet as they leave his mouth.

you pull away from his chest but keep your arms in their place on his shoulders. leaning back just enough to look at him in the eyes, you give him a stern stare.

“shut up declan.”

“i’m serious. he’s nice and gentle. would probably be good for you to be with someone like that.” he was looking off in the distance as he talked, your bodies still swaying side to side.

“maybe i don’t want gentle.” the words trickle from your lips like honey.

the second he hears the purr of your voice declan’s eyes are on yours. he’s peering down at you and the look on your face is pure sugar. god he can’t get enough of you.

“maybe i want someone older, someone more mature.”

your looking up at him as you talk, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. he can’t help the weight that lifts from his shoulders and the smile that takes over his face.

“maybe i want someone who’s not afraid to be rough with me.”

at those words declan feels something stirring in his chest– or maybe his pants.

you can feel his grip on your hips tighten as his eyes stay trained on yours. his gaze is spellbinding.

“i don’t think your son could fuck me the way i like to be fucked.”

you see declan’s eyes darken when he hears your whisper.

he lifts one of his hands from your hips in order to move your hair, bringing it all to one shoulder, leaving the other one fully exposed. he leans down and places a soft kiss right at the base of your neck, dangerously close to your collar bone.

your tilting your head in pleasure and soaking in the warmth of his lips on your skin when you feel him gently bite down in the same spot.

the stinging sensation of his teeth on your neck has you instinctively clenching your thighs together.

“i’m the only one who can fuck you the way you like to be fucked sweetheart.”

his voice is deep and rich as you feel his breath on your neck.

you’re just about to beg declan to take you into one of the many bedrooms in his house and ruin you; but he abruptly pulls away from you, detaching your bodies.

“let’s go celebrate the birthday boy shall we.”

his voice is normal, like he wasn’t about to take you on his kitchen counter two seconds ago.

“i have a feeling he might be waiting for a dance with you.” declan is smirking and holding his hand out to escort you back into the party.

you left the kitchen with one thought in your brain, declan was the only o’hara man for you.

[cuubism]

thinking about baby wish and how once she gets sick both hob and dream will 100% get TERRIFIED and very antsy due to their past with their own child :')

funny enough i already had a drabble kind of like this so i've gone and finished it up for you :)

-

Anyone who wants to rob Johanna should probably do a more subtle job of it than leaving the damn door to her flat cracked open for her to find. They’d tripped her wards, too—amateurs—making her scramble home in the middle of a job to catch them in the act.

She pushes the door open carefully, knife held in one hand. The light’s on in her kitchen, which gives her pause. Surely any burglar—especially one stealing magical artifacts—would get what they need and get out?

She really should have been less surprised to burst into the kitchen and find Hob leaning against the counter.

“Finally,” he says.

Johanna irritably puts the knife away. “Why are you in my house?”

“You weren’t answering my calls.”

“I was working. I can’t just drop everything to watch your strange baby.” She’s gotten roped into that a few times. Not a lot of reputable childcare around for supernatural infants, apparently. Not that Johanna counts as ‘reputable childcare’.

At least Dream pays well for it. And Jo’s grown fond of the little critter, to her chagrin.

Hob sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face, and finally Johanna takes a proper look at him.

He looks exhausted. Hair a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, stubble coming in unevenly on his cheeks, clothes all wrinkled. When he drops his hands from his face again, he gives her a pleading look.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“Wish is sick,” Hob says. “I don’t— I don’t know what it is. She doesn’t normally get flus and things like that. She’s just… fading. She won’t wake up.”

Well, shit. “What does Dream have to say about it?”

“He’s been pushing power to her from the Dreaming to keep her stable while we try to figure it out,” Hob says, starting to pace across the kitchen, tugging on his hair, “but now he’s gone under too and I—”

“Hang on,” Jo exclaims, “you’ve been letting Dream drain the Dreaming?”

“You think I get to let Dream do anything?” Hob says, exasperated. “He does want he wants. In any case, we needed to buy time, but I think we’re out of it again. Will you help me or not? Because if not I need to find someone else who will.”

“I’ll help you,” Jo says, groaning internally. “If I can.”

If Dream is actually ill too then she has, unfortunately, at least some degree of responsibility to not let this become a repeat of the sleeping sickness. Besides which… she’s fond of Wish.

Hob looks so relieved that she feels bad for her reluctance. He’s practically vibrating as he helps her gather her things and then leads her, at speed, back across town to his home.

--

Once upstairs, they step quietly into the bedroom. Wish is asleep in her crib, cat plushie clutched in one hand. She’s gotten bigger since Jo last saw her, almost a proper toddler now. And she looks… alright? At least from afar. She’s sleeping very deeply though.

Dream, meanwhile, is slumped in bed like a dead man, one arm trailing down limply to the floor. His skin is even more pale than usual, forehead beaded with sweat. She shakes his shoulder and he doesn’t move. When Jo focuses, honing in with the Sight, she can make out a thin trail of power going from Dream’s hand to Wish’s.

Jo focuses on Wish. Takes her hand. She’s been working on her Sight, and she can sense now that whatever power Dream is funneling into Wish is just going straight through her and out into whatever is draining her. It may be keeping her stable but it’s primarily just getting burned up into nothingness.

Alright so they’ve got to stop that before Dream fucking kills himself because this is a bottomless pit. If they don’t interrupt it he’ll evaporate the Dreaming from the inside out.

“What he’s doing isn’t working,” she tells Hob. “Something’s draining any power he sends her.”

“Can you tell what?”

She can’t sense anything obvious. No malevolent presence. No connection to Wish’s power, other than Dream’s.

“I don’t know,” she says. “But Dream isn’t helping. I’m going to try to break the connection.”

Hob looks concerned, glancing between Wish and Dream, but doesn’t stop her.

Johanna gets out her chalk, and starts drawing an elaborate warding circle around Wish’s crib. It’s a bit of a tossup, honestly, on whether she’ll be able to combat Dream’s magic. He is, after all, Endless. But if she focuses on containing Wish, rather than fighting against Dream, she might just be able to do it.

Hob sits on the bed beside Dream, looking on anxiously, but giving her space. Johanna seals the final stroke of the warding circle, and—

—nothing obvious happens. But the connection between Dream and Wish, visible only with the Sight, slows to a trickle. She wasn’t able to break it completely, Dream’s power is too strong for that, but at least it’s not the flood that it was before.

“They didn’t wake up,” Hob says, clutching at Dream’s hand. “Shouldn’t Dream have woken up at least?”

“He’s probably weakened himself,” Jo says. “He won’t drain himself into nothing now, though.”

Hob looks down at Dream limp beside him. “Now that he’s connected with her power Dream might have been able to tell us how to fix it,” he says, hands twisting together anxiously. “Fuck I wish he would wake up.”

Dream jolts awake in bed, gasping for breath, eyes wild. Hob jumps in alarm, but quickly clutches at him, holding him steady. “Dream.”

Jo looks between Dream and Wish. “Shit.”

“What?” says Hob, jumping up as if to rush over to Wish, but hesitating between her and Dream.

“Her power…” Dream says, his voice still its low rumble, despite his evident exhaustion. “I felt it spike, before I woke.”

“She wished you awake,” Johanna says. “Or, technically Hob did. And Wish’s power made it happen. That’s got to be what’s draining her— all over the world people are wishing things all the time, and she’s granting them.”

“Isn’t that kind of her function?” Hob says.

“No,” says Dream. “Just as I shepherd dreams but do not make all of them manifest in the Waking world, Wish’s power carries wishes, but does not grant them. A few, she can make real—but to grant all wishes would destabilize reality.”

“She’s just a baby, how’s she supposed to know that?”

“Exactly,” says Jo. “It needs to be limited until she can learn how to limit it herself. If you’d like, I can—”

Dream’s eyes flash threateningly. “You dare to hinder my daughter’s power?”

“She clearly can’t control it!” Jo exclaims. “If you don’t put a limit on it, she’ll burn through it again.”

Dream looks murderous, but Hob lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I think Johanna’s right. It’s not like we’d let her run around the city without us either, is it? Kids have to have limits.”

That softens Dream’s expression into something that’s almost a smirk. “Like your leash.”

“Are you seriously one of those people that has a child leash?” Jo says to Hob, incredulous.

“My baby can fly!” he says indignantly. “Not all of us can just grow wings to chase after her.” He pokes Dream.

For a moment Johanna gets distracted by the image of Hob flying Wish like a balloon, but comes back to her senses. “Look,” she says to Dream, “I can put a ward around her if you want—”

“I will do it.” He stands, only slightly unsteady on his feet, and walks over to Wish’s crib. Hob follows him, keeping a hand braced low on his back to support him. Dream picks Wish up, cradling her in his arms. Smoothes a hand over her forehead and hair.

She really doesn’t look much worse for wear, other than still being asleep. Dream’s the one who looks like he got run over by a train. Nevertheless he sprinkles dream sand over her, letting it whirl around her in a big spiral.

“I do not have unilateral control over her function,” he says, “but I will tie her powers to mine again, so—”

“Didn’t we just learn that was a bad idea?” Jo says.

Dream casts her an irritated glance for the interruption. “So,” he continues, “I can use the Dreaming to corral her power and keep it contained around her. As I did before she was born. I will mind her, and be sure the use of her power is moderate.”

The dream sand fades away, and Dream runs his hand over Wish’s hair again. “Wake up, my love,” he says to her, much softer than the tone he’d used with Johanna. “You are alright now.”

She shifts in his arms, nose scrunching up, letting out a quiet whine as she finally opens her eyes. “Mama.”

Johanna still hasn’t figured out why Dream is “mama.” She has her suspicions but she definitely doesn’t want to think about Dream giving birth. Nope, not at all, definitely not.

Dream smiles down at Wish. “How are you feeling?”

Wish reaches up to touch his face, grabbing at his cheek. “Lotsa wishes, Mama.”

“Yes, very many wishes indeed,” says Dream. “Now, you must go to Dada, because your Mother is about to collapse.”

Hob swoops in to grab Wish just as Dream’s legs go out from under him. Johanna is left to catch Dream, and grabs him by the arm, hauling him back over to the bed. Dream collapses back onto the pillows, panting. God, he looks absolutely exhausted.

Hob props Wish on his hip and comes over to him, touching the back of his hand to Dream’s forehead even though Jo is pretty sure you can’t gauge an Endless’s wellbeing that way.

“It is fine, Hob,” Dream says, though it doesn’t look particularly fine. Nevertheless, they’ve solved the problem, so it probably will be fine, sooner or later, or so she hopes.

Wish reaches for Dream. “Stories, Mama?”

“Perhaps tomorrow night, my love,” Dream says, eyes already falling shut.

“Mama needs to take a nap,” says Hob, draping a blanket over Dream with his free hand. “We’ll go read the next chapter of our book, hm?”

“Book!” Wish agrees.

Hob leans down to kiss Dream’s forehead. Wish reaches out with grabby hands, so Hob holds her out to kiss Dream’s forehead, too. “Kiss!” she says.

It’s kind of sickeningly adorable. 

Johanna follows Hob out into the living room, feeling a bit whiplashed by all of it. Hob sets Wish down on the couch, then scrubs his hands over his face, taking a shuddering breath. For a moment, it seems like he might crumple, but he steels himself.

Johanna isn’t really good at this kind of thing, but she rests a hand on his arm. “She’s alright, Hob,” she says, attempting a comforting tone.

“Oh, I know, she’s probably forgotten it already.” He gives her a wan smile. “Not sure Wish was the one much bothered by all this in the first place.” 

Jo feels a pang of sympathy. If anything, Hob got the worst of it, witnessing it all without being able to do much of anything to help.

“Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” she says.

He nods. Meanwhile Wish reaches out her hands to Johanna, crawling towards the edge of the couch. “Auntie Jo!”

Johanna sets her back before she can fall, then shakes her hand solemnly. “Pleasure doing business with you, as always. Let’s hope you haven’t wished anyone the nuclear codes.”

“Nu-clee-ur,” Wish echoes, with surprisingly good pronunciation.

Hob pales. “Let’s not introduce the concept of bombs to my child who likes to play with the electrical sockets, please.”

Johanna just laughs. “Your problem for later, mate.”

She turns to leave, then hesitates. Goddammit, she is becoming so fucking soft.

She gives Hob a hug.

He freezes in surprise. Then wraps his arms around her in turn. “Thanks,” he whispers.

Johanna pats his back, then pulls away before it gets any more awkward. She waves to Wish on the couch. “Be good, Sparkle!”

Wish waves goodbye, and with that Johanna heads out to leave them to it—though she’s sure, with the rate things are going, it won’t be for long.

[allthingsfangirl101]

A Night On The Couch – Glen Powell

Masterlist

Y/N got home from work past 7 o'clock. She hung her keys and jacket by the door. She let her work bag fall off her shoulder and left it by the door. She headed straight to the bedroom and quickly changed into a baggy shirt and a pair of leggings. She took off her makeup and pulled her hair into a messy bun.

When she walked into the kitchen to get a glass of wine, she noticed she was home alone. She grabbed her phone but stopped. She knew there was no point in calling her husband. She knew that he wouldn't answer his phone while at work.

The pros and cons of being married to an actor.

Y/N sat on the couch with her glass of wine in her hand. Memories of the horrible day raced through her mind. All she wanted right now was to wrap herself in her husband's arms.

Instead, she spent several hours sipping wine, watching a horrible reality show, with tears streaming down her face. When the front door opened, she let out a sigh of relief.

"You're home," Y/N said shakily as she put her empty glass of wine on the coffee table and stood up.

"Not for long!" Glen called out as he jogged upstairs. Just as soon as she was filled with hope, it shattered.

"Of course," she mumbled as she went to the kitchen and poured herself another glass. She walked back out as Glen ran down the stairs he just ran up, except now he was in different clothes.

"Sorry, babe. I gotta get going. I have a meeting and then. . ."

"I'm not surprised," she said, making him stop.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Seriously?" She scoffed. "Glen, this is the longest conversation we've had all month."

"And?" He shrugged. "We're both busy. You're the assistant to that big magazine producer."

"Eddie Morris," she sighed. "He's the editor of Vogue magazine."

"I said that," he brushed off. "What I was saying is that we're both busy. It happens to married couples who both work. It's normal."

"No, it's not, Glen."

"Of course it is," he shrugged grabbing his jacket from the closet and slipping it on. "Honey, it's difficult for married couples to both work and still have time for each other."

"Maybe that should tell us something," Y/N mumbled. "Glen, don't you think we should talk about that? We're never around each other and we never seem to mind. I'd really hate to say this, but maybe it would be easier for us to. . ."

"Don't say it," he said harshly as he turned around.

"It's not like I want a divorce," she tried to reassure him.

"You just said. . ."

"I  was going to say that we should talk to someone."

"Therapy?" Glen scoffed.

"Look, it's no secret that our marriage has been rough. We need to make more time for each other, Glen," she reworded. "We should take a break from our jobs and go on a trip or. . ."

"I can't take time off my work," he cut her off. "We're in the middle of a big movie. Plus, we're already behind and they haven't even finished writing the last few scenes. But your job is. . ."

"Not important?" Y/N finished for him. "Gee, thanks, Glen. Such a loving and supportive husband."

"I was just going to say that your schedule is a little more flexible than mine."

"I don't set my schedule, Glen," she corrected him. "Eddie does. And he's a bigger workaholic than you! Which means I get dragged along."

Y/N's voice broke at the end of the sentence, remembering the conversation she and Eddie had a few hours ago. Her husband didn't notice her whole expression change.

"Glen, I know you have a big important 'meeting' at the nearest bar with your costars," Y/N continued, the tone of her voice different, "but I really need to talk to you."

"Can we talk later?" He sighed, not hiding his annoyance. "I don't have time, Y/N."

"Glen, please," she said, her voice breaking. "I really need some time with my husband—just him and me. No work. No phones. No distractions. I need to tell you that I was talking to Eddie today and he decided to. . ."

"I have to go, Y/N," he cut her off.

"Of course you do!" Y/N laughed harshly, her anger from the events of the day finally bursting. "Considering your work is sooo important to you. Much more important than your wife."

"Come on, Y/N," he sighed. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Y/N scoffed. "We are in the middle of a fight and you're choosing your job over me. Like you always do. You know what, Glen? Go. Go to work. And when you get home at 2 AM, you can sleep on the couch."

* * * * *

Y/N wasn't sure what time Glen got home. She went to bed after finishing the bottle of wine and didn't hear him get home. Glen got home a little after 3 am. He kicked off his shoes and instantly went upstairs to their bedroom. With his hand on the door handle, he froze. His argument with Y/N replayed in his mind.

He softly opened the door and saw her asleep in their bed. He wanted to wake her up and apologize over and over again. He wanted to take three months off so he could spend time with his wife and take her away from here and her job. . .

Her job. Something happened with her job yesterday and he left her.

He took a step into their room to talk to her but stopped. She had told him to sleep on the couch. He didn't want to. He wanted to wake her up and spend all night talking.

But he didn't. He turned around, closed the door gently, and walked back downstairs. He sat on the couch and instantly ran his fingers through his hair. He laid down, his mind racing through what could've happened to Y/N at work.

A few hours later, he woke up with his entire back aching. He froze when he heard her coming down the stairs. He sat up and watched Y/N come downstairs.

"Morning," he said to get her to acknowledge him.

"Morning," Y/N whispered as she walked into the kitchen. Glen watched as she walked over and poured herself a cup of coffee. Glen slowly stood up and tried not to stretch out his back in front of her.

She was now sitting at the table, slowly drinking her coffee. When he walked in, she froze but didn't look up at him. He poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked, trying to get her to talk to him.

"Fine," she mumbled. He looked down and saw that she was still in her pajamas when she was usually in her work clothes at this time.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for work?" Glen asked as he numbly drank the coffee.

"I would," she sighed. "But I don't work there anymore."

"Wait, what?" He roughly put down his cup on the counter and ran over to her. He knelt next to her and gently put his hands on her knees. "What happened, sweetheart?"

"It doesn't matter," she tried to brush off. She stood up, making Glen's hands fall off her knees. "Don't you have to get to work?"

"I'm calling in sick," he said, waiting for her reaction. Y/N turned around and studied him.

"You're serious?"

"Yeah," he said, walking over to her. "Turns out my wife needs some attention and she needs her husband to cheer her up."

Y/N threw her arms around Glen's neck, practically jumping into his arms, as she pressed her lips to his. Glen instantly caught her and started kissing her back.

"I'm really sorry about your job," he whispered, his forehead pressed to hers.

"I'm honestly not," she shrugged, leaning back.

"Let's get some bagels and we can talk about everything."

"Thank you," Y/N said with tears in her eyes. Glen leaned in and kissed her.

"I'm really sorry about making you think that my job is more important than you," he said, tightening his arms around her. "It's not true. Nothing is more important than you, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you too, Glen," she whispered, her voice breaking. He leaned in and kissed his wife. He broke the kiss with a playful smirk.

"Does this mean I don't have to sleep on the couch anymore?"

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Their Daughter's First Breakup

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✯ pairing:  Toto Wolff x Wife! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none✯

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Having a teenager was rough. Teenagers experience so much—the highs and the lows—and the lows can get very, very low sometimes. Everything feels like a burden, even the smallest of inconveniences, which we only realize are small when we look at them in the rearview.

Charlotte, their daughter, had just come home. y/n had come home from work not too much earlier. 

“Hey, how was your day?” she asked her daughter with a soft smile, “did they gave you that biology test you said ‘it went so bad’,” she added, knowing that despite her thoughts she would end up with an outstanding grade.

“Yeah, an A,” Charlotte responded, through her tone giving away she was not in the mood.

The kitchen was quiet except for the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clatter of dishes as she tidied up. Charlotte sat at the kitchen table, poking at a bowl of cereal with her spoon, her expression distant.

She could sense something was off—Charlotte wasn’t her usual chatty self. Even her response about the biology test, which normally would’ve been delivered with pride or an exaggerated tale of woe, had been flat.

“An A, huh?” she said, trying to keep her tone light as she leaned against the counter. “I knew you’d ace it. You always do, even when you swear it’s the end of the world.”

Charlotte shrugged, her eyes fixed on her cereal. “Yeah, I guess.”

Her mother frowned slightly, setting the dish towel down and walking over to the table. She sat across from Charlotte, folding her hands on the table. “What’s going on, sweetheart? You’ve been extremely quiet”

“Nothing,” Charlotte replied too quickly, her voice tinged with irritation.

She tilted her head, her eyes soft with concern. “Charlotte…”

Her daughter sighed, her shoulders slumping as she finally set the spoon down. “It’s just… I’m tired, okay? School was long, and people were annoying, and…” She trailed off, her voice catching slightly.

“...And?”

Charlotte hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing’s stupid if it’s bothering you,” her mom said gently, reaching across the table to rest a hand on Charlotte’s. “Talk to me, love.”

Charlotte looked down, her eyes welling up despite her best efforts to keep it together. “Liam… broke up with me,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her heart clenched as she watched her daughter fight back tears. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, getting up to move around the table and sit beside her. She wrapped her arms around Charlotte, who did not resist the hug but leaned into her instead.

“It’s so dumb,” Charlotte said, her voice muffled against her shoulder. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. It’s not like we were together that long, but… it just hurts.”

“It’s not dumb,” her mom reassured her, rubbing her back soothingly. “It hurts because it mattered to you. And it’s okay to feel that way.”

Charlotte sniffled, pulling back slightly. “I just don’t get it. He said I was ‘too much’ or something. Like, what does that even mean?”

Her mom’s brow furrowed. “It means he didn’t know how lucky he was to have you,” she said firmly. “And that’s his loss, not yours.”

Charlotte let out a watery laugh, wiping her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re my mom.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true,” she countered, cupping Charlotte’s face gently. “You’re smart, kind, and funny, and anyone who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve you. Liam clearly wasn’t ready for someone as amazing as you.”

Charlotte smiled faintly, her tears starting to slow. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Always, love,” she said, pulling her into another hug. “Breakups suck, I know, but as far as I’m concerned no one has died from one,” she added, her tone lighter, trying to make her chuckle.

“I could be the first case,” her daughter chuckled slightly, still leaning into the embrace.

“Nope, not happening with me around,” she said softly, “I promise, it will pass, now it hurts, but it will pass, it always does, okay?”

Charlotte nodded, her face still slightly teary. 

“And while it does pass,” her mom started, “do you want to do something, maybe go shopping, you know to speed up the process,” she suggested with a light grin.

Charlotte wiped her eyes, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah, okay. Shopping sounds nice,” she said softly.

Her mom grinned, a spark of relief lighting up her expression. “Perfect..”

Charlotte chuckled lightly, the sound still a bit shaky but genuine. “You’re really just looking for an excuse to go shopping, aren’t you?”

“Busted,” her mom teased, nudging her gently. “But seriously, a little retail therapy never hurt anyone. Go get ready, and I’ll grab my purse.”

“Okay,” Charlotte said, standing up from the table. The weight in her chest felt a bit lighter now, even if the ache of the breakup still lingered.

As Charlotte headed upstairs to change, her mom lingered in the kitchen, pulling out her phone to text Toto.

Taking Charlotte out for a little mother-daughter shopping trip. She had a rough day. Will fill you in later.

Moments later, Toto replied: Got it. Let me know if you need me to join. Give her a hug from me.

Smiling at his message, she slipped her phone into her bag and turned toward the stairs. “Ready when you are, Charlotte!” she called out.

Charlotte appeared a few minutes later, her eyes still slightly puffy but her expression more relaxed. “Let’s go.”

With a reassuring smile, her mom wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they headed to the car. “This is going to be fun, you’ll see.”

Charlotte leaned into her slightly, grateful for the comfort. “Thanks, Mom. For everything.”

“Always, sweetheart,” she said warmly, starting the Mercedes.

Later, almost night, the car pulled into the driveway late in the evening, the headlights casting long shadows against the house. Charlotte and her mom stepped out, the trunk bursting with shopping bags from every upscale store they had visited. Charlotte’s laughter rang through the quiet evening as she struggled to carry her share of the bags.

“Okay, okay, I think I went a little overboard,” her mom admitted with a laugh, balancing a few bags on her arms.

“You think?” Charlotte teased, a playful smile lighting up her face. She looked more like herself again, her earlier heartbreak now a distant hum rather than a sharp pang.

She smiled fondly as she glimpsed that very genuine smile on her daughter’s face. The evening went really well, not only due to the shopping, which contributed greatly, but the company.

They juggled the bags to the door, and as soon as it opened, they were greeted by the warm glow of the foyer lights. The familiar scent of home wrapped around them like a comforting hug.

Toto appeared at the top of the staircase, dressed casually in a button-down and slacks. He descended quickly, his tall frame moving gracefully. “Late night, I see,” he remarked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and amusement. His eyes flicked to the mountain of bags they were unloading onto the floor. “Did you leave anything in the stores?”

“Not much,” Charlotte quipped, a grin breaking across her face.

Toto smiled, clearly relieved to see her looking happier. He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “You seem better,” he said softly.

“She’s feeling much better,” her mom confirmed, setting her bags down and stretching her arms. “And we might have single-handedly boosted the local economy tonight.”

Charlotte laughed. “It helped, though. I needed this.”

Toto crouched slightly, looking Charlotte in the eye. “Good. That’s all that matters. You’ll get through this, you know.”

Charlotte nodded, her smile soft but genuine. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Always,” he said warmly before standing and turning to his wife. “And you—thank you for taking care of her.”

“Of course,” she replied with a knowing smile. “Now, I’m going to make some tea. Charlotte, why don’t you start figuring out where all these bags are going to fit in your room?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Right. I’ll just call an architect and plan an extension.”

As she gathered her bags and headed upstairs, Toto slipped an arm around his wife’s waist, pulling her close. “You really are amazing, you know that?”

She tilted her head, giving him a teasing smile. “I hope you remind me of that every so often.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Every chance I get.”

From upstairs, they heard Charlotte call out, “Mom, where did you put that bag from Dior?!”

She groaned, laughing. “Coming!”

Toto released her with a smile, watching her head upstairs to join Charlotte.

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✯ authors note: I don't why today I write so daughter related, but honestly, imagine having Toto Wolff as a husband or as a dad...

BTW, random, but when I was writing it I could not stop thinking about Fleabag, this scene:

English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[trustmypoison]

DK with a 'perfect' partner

Requested? Yes!

TW/CW: slightly suggestive near the end, minors use caution.

Seokmin is quiet. 

It’s not that he’s never quiet. Sure, he likes to talk, and he can be quite excitable, but he’s a great listener, too. He’s always so engaged. You can see it in his eyes, the way they sometimes imperceptibly change when you say something in particular. 

The trouble is that he’s not really doing that right now. He’s got a dazed look as he sits at the kitchen island, watching you chop a few things for dinner. You had an inkling that he’s not listening, and you’ve been testing him. And he’s failed the test. 

You finish chopping the veggies and washing your hands before coming around the island. You grab his shoulder, lightly pushing him to turn so you can stand between his legs. His hands fall to your waist, gripping distractedly. You hold his face between your hands, thumb sweeping his cheek. The dazed look remains. “Did you hear me?” You ask lightly. He nods. It makes the corner of your lips pull up a little. “So you agree?”

“Agree?” He mumbles. 

“That we should move,” you say simply. 

“Move?” He’s still mumbling. 

“Yep, to Antarctica.” 

His eyes flare as the dazed look disappears in a snap. “What?”

You snort, pressing a little kiss to his nose. “That’s what I thought.” Your fingers crawl into his hair, and his eyes drift closed. “You seem distracted tonight. Where’s your head at, baby?”

It takes him a few long moments to answer, maybe due to avoidance or maybe sleepiness. And it’s not much of an answer. “It’s stupid.”

“Unlikely. Come on, you can tell me.”

He doesn’t really meet your eyes, looking somewhere over your shoulder when he sighs, sort of blurting it out. “Why are you with me?”

You blink, feeling your back go rigid. His fingers dig into your back a little like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. This sort of reaction is so… unlike Seokmin. It sort of makes you shudder. “Why would you ask something like that, baby?”

“Because you’re perfect.” 

He says it so simply, yet there are layers to it that he doesn’t say. It requires you to dig deeper. “And you aren’t?”

He laughs, but it sounds kind of hollow. The sound creates a pit in your stomach because he always has such a joyful, genuine laugh. It’s something that makes you smile no matter what. Yet another thing that is unlike him tonight. “No, I’m not. That’s why I don’t get it.”

You’re sort of at a loss for words, so you pull back to look at him, fighting against his grip ever so slightly. Your hands pin themselves to his shoulders. “Seokmin, I’m going to need more than that.”

His jaw ticks, eyes stormy and swirling with an emotion that you hate to see. “You’re beautiful. And funny. And smart. And kind. I haven’t met someone who doesn’t like you yet. You’re good at everything you do on the first try. You have a degree and walked into a high-paying position just like that. You make it all look so… effortless. And I’m me.” 

“What’s wrong with being you?” You ask, pursing your lips. His jaw is still tight, and he stays silent. ���Do you want to know what I think?” His eyes hesitantly meet yours, and you take it as a ‘yes,’ stepping forward again to fold your arms around his shoulders. He seems relieved that you’re closer again. “I think that you underestimate how much I fuck up. Do you know that I spilled coffee all over my keyboard yesterday at work, and they had to bring me a new one? And I managed to break a heel on the subway last week? And I have a degree, but I almost didn’t graduate. And I had help getting that job through some connections. I fuck up all the time, but I just can’t spend any time ruminating over it later.”

You sigh, looking at your lovely boyfriend, who’s staring at you with big, vulnerable eyes. You know the look he's wearing. This sweet man is fighting the urge to correct you or make you feel better about everything you just told him. “And you? You are so handsome. I mean, you make me melt sometimes because you’re so attractive. And I know for a fact that I’m not the only one that thinks so. And your talent? Unmatched, really. I know you work hard, but you make what you do look so easy sometimes. The belting out songs at random, the dancing, the stage presence. I couldn’t do any of that.” You think you can see a little bit of moisture gathering in his lower lash line, but he keeps looking at you. 

“And on top of all that? You make me laugh so hard that it hurts almost every day. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be unkind to anyone, not even when they deserve it. Those are only some of the reasons that I’m with you. So don’t talk bad about my boyfriend, okay?”

He huffs, sniffling as he folds, his face landing in the crook of your neck. You hold him for a while, letting the minutes tick by. Eventually, he sniffs, sitting back up. “Sorry. I had a bad day, and I sort of spiraled.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you talked to me about it so I could set you straight.” You adopt a teasing tone if only to lighten the mood. You glance over your shoulder at the chopped veggies. They can wait for a bit… right? “I think maybe I have more work to do for you.”

Confusion paints his face. “What do you mean? You were cooking dinner. You wanted to try that new recipe.”

“It can wait. Come with me?” 

Something about the way your tone dips or the look on your face makes it click for him. There’s light in his eyes again as he lets you back away from him, linking hands with you. “I’ll follow you anywhere. Even Antarctica.”

You lead him to the bedroom, thinking you’d follow him anywhere, too. You just have to convince him of that. 

[blushsturns]

perv!matt x innocent!reader ♡

pt.5 ❤︎ sex shop

warnings: sex, sex shops, mutual masturbation, matt being shy!

w/c: 3058

❤︎ the masterlist of all the works for this AU is right here ❤︎

its been an entire week since matt first had a taste of you and it was all you could think about. every single time you tried to focus on something else, your mind went straight back to you and matt in the kitchen where he gave you the most mind blowing orgasm of your life. all of this built up sexual tension was making your brain foggy and usually you’d complain about not being able to focus correctly, but you weren’t complaining about it at all. if anything, it just confused you and made you wonder your true feelings for him.

matt was your absolute best friend. you always felt incredibly safe, comfortable, and protected when you were around him. the bond you and the triplets have was something sacred and you never wanted to lose that. you always viewed matt as one of your absolute best friends, but there was always some kind of tension between the two of you. the vibe you had with matt was different from the vibe you had with nick and chris.

you haven’t had the opportunity to even talk to matt about what went down between the two of you. work has been kicking your ass lately, but luckily it was friday night and that meant you and the triplets were going to be hanging out tonight and this weekend. when the week gets busy, you all try to spend time together during the weekend when things are less stressful and chaotic.

nick, matt, and chris all sat in their living room with you while chatting about the plan for the night. you and matt kept exchanging glances, but he’s hardly said a word. the dynamic seemed different and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. you flashed him small smiles every once in awhile and he’d return the same smile, his cheeks reddening each and every time. you felt his eyes on you more than usual. maybe he was thinking about what went down between the two of you like you have been.

“why don’t we go to the sex shop that’s like, literally down the street.” chris suggested before taking another swig of his pepsi.

everyone stared at him with confusion all over their face, including you. chris always said the most out of pocket things and literally didn’t give two fucks. he was up for trying anything just once, even if he didn’t care for it. nick was somewhat the same way, always wanting to be able to laugh at any situation he gets himself into. matt on the other hand was completely different. he would choose to stay inside rather than go out and try new things. he got flustered way too easily.

matt’s cheeks immediately turned bright red at chris’ suggestion, where nick threw his head back in a roar of laughter. “chris, are you serious? why?”

you sat there, not sure what to say, and how to react. you tucked your legs underneath yourself, scooting closer to nick on the couch. nick was someone you felt easily comfortable with. he didn’t bring up the party where he matched you and matt for the seven minutes of heaven game. you could sense that he knew something was up with the two of you, though.

chris shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “i don’t know, why the fuck not? it would be fun. you guys in?”

matt sat there, completely red face in the face, already flustered just thinking about going into a sex shop. he’s never been to one before, and neither have you. it could be fun considering you’ve never done anything like it before. plus, after what’s been going on between you and matt, it might be an excuse to talk to him and explore.

“sure, why not.” nick said calmly, shrugging his shoulders as if he really didn’t care. “might be fun.”

nick and chris turned to look at you and matt and now you were the one who was completely red in the face. you locked eyes with matt, flashing him a small smile for reassurance and shrugging your shoulders before turning your attention back to nick and chris. “sure why not. might be fun, right?”

matt seemed surprised at your reply, his eyebrow raised up in a confused motion as he glanced over at you. you looked back at him for a brief moment, flashing him a bigger grin. nick and chris clapped their hands, roaring in excitement. “hell yes!” chris yelled out excitedly. “let’s go now and fuck around a bit.”

nick and chris went upstairs to change and that left you and matt alone in the living room. matt was the first one to speak. “you sure you’re okay with going? i know it’s not..an ideal way to spend your friday night.”

you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, looking over at him with a small smile on your face. you could sense the sexual tension between the two of you ever since what happened in the kitchen and you wondered if he felt it too and have been thinking about it as much as you have. you couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of his tongue against your center, tasting you like he was completely starved and needed nutrients. you wouldn’t mind doing that again, but matt was so shy and you still were questioning how you truly felt about him.

he was your best friend, but could he possibly be something more than that? ever since you found out he’s been stealing your panties, you’ve been feeling this sexual tension and you weren’t sure what to do about it.

“i’m okay with it. it’s always good to try something out at least once right? i’m a little nervous, but i feel better knowing you’ll be there. you are going, right?”

you bit on your bottom lip as you stare at him. sometimes he was so flustered and quiet that you weren’t sure what he was thinking or feeling. you hadn’t seen the spontaneous side of him prior to what happened in the kitchen. you don’t think you’ll ever be able to get over it.

“i’ll go. i feel better knowing you’ll be there too.” matt said shyly, his cheeks slightly flushed as he stared at you. you caught his eyes glancing down at your bare legs in your mini skirt. you had put on your lace nylon knee highs and pumps to go with your cute crop top to match. you knew he had been staring at you since the moment you walked into the house. it made you feel fuzzy inside.

his words made your cheeks feel warm, flashing him a wide smile. “then let’s get the hell out of here before we both change our mind.”

chris decided to drive, since this whole thing was his idea. nick called shotgun, which, to your luck, landed you in the backseat with matt. nick had flashed you a wink when he hopped in the front seat. he knew something was going on between the two of you after seven minutes in heaven, but you haven’t actually talked to him about any of it.

matt looked nervous and you had to admit, you were too, but you were also excited. you’ve never been to a sex shop before, but now that chris brought up the idea, you were intrigued.

chris and nick were in the middle of some kind of ridiculous argument and you and matt completely tuned out. you kept catching matt steal glances at you, his eyes averting down to your thighs and the lace trim of your knee highs. you looked over at him, a small smile onto your lips as you felt your cheeks heat up just by his gaze. you’ve never been this flustered before, but you weren’t complaining.

“you okay?” you mouthed over to him, your hand moving to place onto his thigh which caused his body to immediately jolt in surprise. he looked down at your hand on his thigh as you gave it a gentle squeeze before looking back up at you.

he nodded his head before moving his hand up to run through his tousled hair. “i’m okay.” he mouthed back to you, his cheeks flushed once again.

you continued to grip his thigh a little tighter just to mess with him since you could always tell how much the most simplest touch can affect him so easily. you could feel his eyes on your thighs again, your mini skirt was rising up from sitting down. thankfully the boys in the front seat weren’t paying anything attention. this was a dangerous game, but you were loving every second of it.

his eyes scanned your legs, his breath getting caught in his throat. he always got so damn flustered whenever he was around you, but especially being this close to you. so close he could touch you wherever his heart desires.

you look over at him with a shy smile on your face, your fingers messing with the hem of your lacy knee high tights. you knew he loved looking at your legs and you liked to tease him any possible chance you could get.

he looked back at you and he was biting on his bottom lip, his cheeks bright red and flustered.

suddenly, the car comes to a stop and you look up and realize your surroundings. you all finally made it to the sex shop. you don’t know why, but you were incredibly nervous. you could sense matt was too. you looked over at him and gave him a reassuring smile, moving your hand over to his forearm and gave a gentle squeeze. “come on, it’ll be fun.” you whispered to him before flashing him another smile and making your way out of the car.

you knew when you got out of the car, matt got the best view of your ass cheeks in the pretty lace underneath your mini skirt by the look on matt’s face. he looked absolutely flustered and his cheeks were bright red. he cleared his throat and placed his hands in his pockets, walking behind you as you followed chris and nick into the sex shop. he couldn’t keep his eyes off your pretty little ass.

the second you walked in, nick and chris immediately walked over to a different section of the shop, obviously excited to be where they are given they have never been to one before either. that leaves you alone with matt. you look over at him, his hands still in his pockets. he looked out of his element, but also intrigued with the idea of being here and what he possibly could find.

the employee walked up to both of you, a friendly smile on her face. “hi! what are you lovebirds shopping for today?”

your cheeks immediately heat up, your eyes widening in surprise at the fact that she thinks you and matt are actually a couple. your eyes avert over to matt who looked just as flustered as you did. “oh-um. no, i-.” you stammered on your words, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips. “we’re okay. thank you!”

the woman nodded, a smile still plastered on her face. “okay well if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask!” thankfully after that, the employee walked off and left you and matt alone once again.

you took in a deep breath, shaking your head in disbelief, an actual laugh leaving your lips as you turn your body to look at matt. you flashed him a grin and that made him smile too. “we must look like sex shop virgins.” you giggled, placing a strand of your hair over your ear.

his cheeks were bright red and crept up against his ears, a laugh leaving his lips as well. “we make a hot couple, don’t we?” his lips curved up into a slight smirk. he seemed to be settling into some comfortability now, which was nice. matt was always on edge and nervous, so it was always good to see him finally ease up and relax fully.

his comment made your cheeks flush a little more, not knowing how to reply back to that. you knew he was obviously joking. you grabbed his forearm again and pulled him over to the opposite side of the store where the sex toys were. “come on, let’s shop.”

this sex shop had everything: sex toys, sex accessories, party supplies, lingerie, all of it. matt stood next to you, your shoulders brushing together as your eyes scanned the wall of sex toys. “have it, have this, have that.” you pointed to some of the sex toys you already own. you had a couple different sized dildos and vibrators.

“you- you have these?” matt asked nervously as he scanned over the dildos in front of him. his cheeks seemed to heat up once again as he bit onto his bottom lip. he would never tell you, but now his mind was clouded with visions of you fucking yourself on them and making yourself cum while you moan and throw your head back in pure ecstasy. he had to control his thoughts before he wouldn’t be able to control the already hardening bulge in his pants.

he seemed to be in a daze after this and you couldn’t help but stare down at the evident hardened bulge growing in his jeans. if he was trying to be discreet about this, it wasn’t working.

a soft giggle emits from your lips. “um-i. yeah. i have a couple of them.” you never admitted out loud that you had any sex toys. you weren’t ashamed of it. it was perfectly natural to have sex toys and explore your own body to know what you like. matt must’ve not known this about you and when he’d snoop in your room, the drawer of your pantoes must’ve been the furthest he’s gone. he’s never looked in your tote bin in your closet that had all of your toys stored underneath other tote bins for only your eyes to see.

“wow.” he breathed out. “that’s..hot.” he stammered on his words as he let out a huge breath that exhaled from his chest and out his lungs. “i was thinking of getting you one, but i didn’t-“

you cut him off by placing your hand on his forearm once again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “i have an idea.” you quickly say, leading him over further to where you were standing.

he seemed surprised by your sudden movements, but allowed you to lead him over to where you wanted to go. right before the both of you were sex toys, but for couples. his eyes widened as he scanned over the options before looking over at you. you grabbed the box and angled it over to him so he could see it too. it was a we-vibe small vibrator that is controlled by a remote. a remote that he would be controlling. he opened up his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. his cheeks were bright red again and crept onto his ears. “what is-“

“so what if we were in control of each other’s toy? you get this for me, and i’ll get one for you?” your cheeks flushed as well as you spoke out your idea. before he began to speak, you lifted up your finger, using your other hand to give him the box that was in your hand.

you quickly ran over to the men’s section to find the same thing, but for him that you could get him. nick and chris were in the party supplies, messing around with dick shaped hats. you rolled your eyes at them before grabbing the box quickly and speed walking back over to matt. he stood there with the box in his hand, looking even more flustered than before.

you lifted the box and showed it to him with an evident smirk on your lips. it was a vibrating and rechargable enhancer. it was a very confident and bold suggestion that you’re putting on the table, but the thought of both of you controlling each other’s intensity levels and controlling how and when you cum intrigued you. you could feel your own core beginning to throb as you imagine the possibilities.

he looked incredibly flustered, but you had piqued his interest and he seemed intrigued as well. his eyes scanned over the box that was in his hand, the toy that would be for you, looked over at the toy in your hand before back up into your eyes. he bit onto his bottom lip, his free hand moving up to run throughout his tousled locks. “can we try them..tonight?”

you flashed him a widening smirk, nodding your head as you lean a little closer to him so that your lips were pressed up against his ear, your breath hot and heavy against it. “as soon as we get back, of course.” your tone was teasing, seductive, and eager and your words and hot breath against his ear made his body jolt forward. you could tell he was holding himself back. you’ve seen him lose control before. it was slowly becoming your favorite thing to witness.

“okay, deal.” matt spoke a little more confidently now. your heart was beating rapidly in your chest from the anticipation and sexual tension that radiated between the two of you. he slowly moved his free hand over to your waist and down to your ass, his hand covering your ass cheek against the fabric of your pleated mini skirt which caused a soft gasp to emit from your lips. your bodies were merely touching now as he leaned down to speak in your ear. “tonight. you and me, playing together. it’s a date.”

his words and the feeling of his breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine, your eyes fluttered closed for a moment as you take in the thoughts that have now clouded your brain. you could feel yourself growing hot in your center. your pussy was slowly beginning to get wet with your own arousal. a soft whimper leaves your lips, your eyes staying closed.

you and matt: playing together. this was going to be fucking sensational.

taglist:

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @giveheavensomehell @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @sturniololuv08 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @katiebug3851 @fetusjikook @poppingmypussy4chris @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart

a/n:

thank you to @sturniololuv08 for this amazing idea and to @sturnshood for helping me think of how to put it altogether and for making the header. i appreciate all the help so much! ♡

and thank you to everyone who has been loving this au and saying nice things. it inspires me to keep going. you guys are amazing! if you have any ideas/wanna talk about our favorite flustered duo, send me a message or hit up my inbox!

perv!matt’s sex toy is here and innocent!reader’s is here in case you were curious as to what they were/looked like. thank you meggie for helping me research them.

sooo.. for the next part. how do we feel about them playing together? 👀

love you guys!

-nessa ღ

[uncleasriel]

THANK YOU. This helped articulate a lot of my misgivings with this multimedia franchise that have swirled in my head for a long while.

So many of my misgivings this truly does boil down to "overabundant, easy consumerism" and "paucity of depth in the immediate source material". I'm not beyond consumerism - I have a wall of out-of-print books and DVDs for all sorts of weird stuff - but the need to spend money on every damn thing that bears the sigil of That Thing I Love is in complete opposition to my own sense of aesthetics.

I still have a slight mistrust of the Star Wars bandwagon, for similar reasons: I thought those movies were also the coolest shit when I was 8, but don't feel the pressing need to have my entire kitchen suite remodeled to look like the Death Star. But while I would look askance at someone who had that kind of zeal for Star Wars, I could at least have some interesting discussions with them their thoughts on the differing canons, the case for whether Yazhun Vhong were compelling villains, or why The Revenge of the Sith novelization was more compelling than its source material gave it a right to be.

With Harry Potter, all we get are a series of books and films that work well as self-contained adventures, but the scope of which feels pretty local, and is best suited for individual discussions about "that development with Character A sure was something,huh?" It would be like folks discussing Star Wars going "wow, that twist about Luke's father was one helluva doozy!" And Star Wars is a much bigger setting than that. Does Harry Potter have any thing of that scope?

I I think the reason I'm writing so much about a franchise I'm so indifferent to is because it's so utterly pervasive in the modern media landscape, and on an animal level, I can't quite grasp why. The books were fine! The movies were good, even! But I don't see why some people have to make their entire personalities and personal brand. I don't see why they need to inculcate their children into that brand, especially when said brand was designed to age with the demographic at the time when they were published, and tonally transformed as they aimed at a different reading and maturity level.

I try not to get judgemental about what people like. I'm wholly indifferent to My Little Pony, but when people I know gush about how they loved the show in its heyday, I just smile in delighted befuddlement and let them carry on. Someone in 2025 still using the label of "brony" is gonna raise a question or two, but I don't feel any the need to write several essays about it - I'll just give a simple "glad you like it" before moving on. I feel don't like it when people turn a something someone likes into a target of derision. Sure, there are some parts of the fanbase that get cringeworthy, and some parts of it are even vile, but the same can be said of any similarly sized IP, be it Star Wars, Disney Animated Series, and yes, even Harry Potter. The mystery about why I feel a little defensive over someone shitting all over a brony but a bit of glee over attack Harry Potter is one that I had to crack, so I thank you @galileosballs for helping me tease this out. It's good to get at the root of one's more vicious impulses, and this certainly helped tease out a lot of my reasoning.

for the record even if we lived in a universe where jk rowling wasn't a fundamentally evil person, and every dollar spent on harry potter merchandise wasn't being funneled directly into anti-trans causes, I would still think grown ass adults who are unable to help themselves from purchasing every possible thing from a mediocre childrens book franchise are extremely pathetic people

[thatesqcrush]

Reel Temptation, Pt. 2

Rafael Barba x f!reader. P*rn star! Barba AU.

WC: 4.1K

Summary: It’s the Golden Age of P*rn, circa 1970s. Reader accompanies roommate to a casting call for an adult film. Little does she know that her life is about to change when she meets the male lead.

NSFW for graphic, detailed smut (incl. but not limited to, oral (m & f receiving), cum play, money shot, spanking, p in v sex , cigarette use.

AN: sex work is work. Sex work will always exist - we need to make it safer for sex workers to do their jobs. Continued criminalization of sex work and sex workers is a form of violence by governments and contributes to the high level of stigma and discrimination.

You sat in the chair of the dressing room completely fucked out. You were in your robe, loosely tied. The Judge’s cum was sticky between your thighs and was in the process of drying on your tits.

Sadie was talking your ear off, excited like a little puppy to share how her scene with Sonny went. You gave some nods and uh-huhs, to make it seem as if you were following along but in reality you were not. Instead, you were sitting in front of the mirror, staring at yourself. You had a beard rash on several spots of your body along with some dark marks. You were pretty sure if you lifted your robe, you would see bruises on your hips from how tight he gripped your hips.

This was not a bad thing. Oh no, not at all. You knew that you were in a way, ruined for men forever. When The Judge questioned if you could keep up, you sassed him back. Damn, he made you eat your words. You shifted in your seat, your pussy sore in the best way.

“Hello? Earth to—?” Sadie snapped her fingers in your face. You blinked rapidly, coming out of your reverie. “Hello?” The second hello was way more obnoxious than the first.

You glanced up at Sadie and felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I’m here - sorry, just tired,” you admitted sheepishly. “Today was...”

Sadie snorted. “I’ll say! That man straight up murdered your vagina. He rearranged your guts with that massive cock of his. I have never heard you be that loud ever and our walls at home are pretty thin.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot in response. Heat bloomed through your body. Sadie whistled and sat across from you, legs crossed. She bounced in place. “So spill.”

A staccato knock interrupted the conversation. You looked up into the mirror’s reflection and saw Rafael leaning against the door. He was fully dressed, in a white fitted polo and dark denim bell bottoms. He nodded towards you and took a drag of his cigarette. “You good foxy mama?”

You felt your cheeks flush once more. “Sound as pound.”

“Good,” he replied. “Do you like pancakes?”

You cocked a brow at his reflection and turned around to face him. “Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know about you, but I could go for something to eat. There’s a diner up the road that makes stellar pancakes. My treat.”

You smiled. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll meet you.”

Sadie pouted. “Fine, I guess I’ll get the details later.”

You winked at her. “Good things are worth the wait.”

**

Rafael walked you out to his car - a Nassau blue Chevrolet Cadillac. You let out a whistle. “Far out.”

“Thanks,” Rafael replied as he opened the door for you. You murmured your own thanks as you climbed into the car.

As Rafael pulled out to the road, the Zombies song “Time of the Season,” came on the radio. You sang quietly along, watching the scenery fly by.

The ride was short, the diner not too far off. Your stomach grumbled as the smells from the kitchen permeated the air. The diner’s fluorescent lights hummed softly, casting a faint glow over the cracked vinyl of the booth. You sat across from him in the booth and awkwardly shifted, pretending to look through the laminated menu. You weren’t really sure what to say to someone after they fucked your brains out - not a boyfriend or a one night stand - this was someone who does it for a living and you’re just one of many.

“Pancakes, remember?” Rafael replied as he took the menu from you. He reached for his Marlboros and lighter before offering you a smoke.

Rafael leaned back, stretching his arm across the back cushion before shifting in his seat when the waitress placed a cup of coffee in front of him. His fingers traced lazy circles around the rim of the coffee mug.

“What do you think about doing this full time?”

You didn’t look at him right away, your gaze instead lingering on the steam rising from the coffee.

You let out a snorted. “Do you always pick pancakes?” you asked, your voice carrying just a hint of amusement.

The waitress returned with your Coke and Rafael used the edge of the table to open the bottlecap. He handed the soda back to you and you murmured a thanks before taking a long swig.

Two plates stacked high with pancakes are placed on the table. You thanked the waitress who ignored you and instead eyed Rafael appreciatively.

You shook your head before pouring syrup over your stack. “What do you mean full time?”

“You have a natural talent.”

You snorted once more, before responding. “For fucking?” You stabbed a pancake before eating. “Oh damn, these are good.”

You glanced up from your fork, your lips twitching into a small smile.

Rafael met your eyes, and for a second, the air between the two of you seemed heavier. “You didn’t answer my question. Would you want to do this full time?”

You sighed and put down your fork. “I— maybe? I don’t know. This was all Sadie’s idea. She had the big dreams of becoming a star. I just came along for the ride.”

“A lot of girls come and go. But when our video comes out, people are going to want more of you. Of us.”

You froze, then laughed to fill the space.

“You’ve got syrup on your wrist,” he said, leaning forward without thinking. He reached out with a napkin, brushing your wrist gently. The contact was brief, but it was enough to send your heart skipping.

You swallowed hard and your voice carried an edge of nervous energy. “Us?”

“Damn straight,” Rafael said, leaning back, but his eyes lingered a moment too long. “You are a stone cold fox and well, I’m… well just look at me,” He smirked, but there was a softness in his expression that didn’t match the teasing tone.

You ducked your head, focusing on slicing a piece of pancake. You chewed slowly, deliberately, and when you swallowed, your lips curved into a reluctant smile.

There was a pause, quiet but not uncomfortable. Rafael’s hand hovered near his coffee, but instead of reaching for it, his fingers rested on the edge of the table, close to yours. Not touching, just close.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, “it’s nice, doing this. Just… sitting here with you. Don’t get me wrong, fucking you was fantastic. But this is nice too.”

Your cheeks heated in response. “It is,” you agreed. A smile graced your face.

Rafael’s charming and handsome - in a way that was magnetizing and disarms you. His gaze is dark and heated and you recognize it from when you did your scene earlier with him.

Maybe he’s right - maybe this could be something.

Or it could be nothing. This was the porn industry after all - it’s fucking for a living.

Rafael broke the silence. “Come on mama, I’ll give you a ride home.” He waited a beat before continuing. “Does Sadie need a ride home too?”

—

Your call time was close. Any confidence you may have had has switched over to sheer panic. The Judge was a fucking beast. You think about how Rafael fucked that woman mercilessly and how hot it was watching his come spurt in thick, creamy ropes. You looked at the frumpy skirt suit that was picked out for you. You wrinkled your nose at it. Sure it’d only be on for a little but still - and it smelled like mothballs.

Your hair was pinned, trying to set the style and your makeup was sophisticated, not slutty. You stared down at what was beneath your robe - a cheap and skimpy lingerie set that made your tits look amazing. You dressed quickly and then slipped on the heels that accompany the outfit.

The scene was an easy set up: you would be in the library of the courthouse, poring over case files. Well, the library and courthouse were really just a set in an abandoned warehouse. “Scene change,” Nick replied as he set up his camera. “We just made it into a library. We couldn’t get the bench in time.”

You nod and fidget in your spot waiting. And after a beat, you see The Judge enter.

Rafael is dressed to the nines in a white button down and charcoal gray slacks with a crisp line down the leg. Finishing the look was a pair of suspenders. He reached for a black robe which you were sure was an old graduation gown and slid it on. Your mouth went dry. ‘Holy shit.’

He approached you with a swagger that reeked of big dick energy. A smile twitched on his lips as he took in your appearance.

“Right on. Follow my lead, sunshine.”

Your heart pounded in your chest but you nod regardless. The crew was finished setting up, assembled at the edge of the scene. Nick met your gaze and winked before snapping his gum.

“Action.”

You are pretending to look over a case file before you flounce to the bookshelf. You use the step ladder to reach for a dusty tome, making sure to stick your ass out.

In that moment, the door creaked open, and The Judge stepped inside, his presence filling the room with a warmth that made your pulse quicken. He’s pure sin to look at - you were certain you had seen hotter men in your life, but at the moment, you couldn’t remember when.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Not at all, Your Honor,” you replied, trying to keep your tone steady as you step down, now back at the table.

“I admire your dedication to the law,” The Judge said, leaning slightly closer. “You have a rare talent.”

Your heart raced. “Thank you. I admire your ability to see the truth in every case. It’s a gift.”

The Judge tilted your chin up. “We navigate a world of laws, but I find myself wishing to explore something beyond the courtroom.”

You pushed yourself onto the desk and leaned back. You bit your lip and gazed into his eyes, which were blown dark with desire. Rafael’s eyes trek down to your lips and he can imagine them spit slick and stretched over his cock. It makes his cock twitch. Because the skirt was oversized, it was easy to ruck up and spread your legs. You crooked a finger at him.

Rafael sauntered over to you, settling himself easily between your legs. One hand went straight to your ass to pull your body against his. The other hand went to slide into your hair, cupping the back of your head to pull your mouth to his. He plunged his tongue into your mouth, sweeping against your tongue, exploring and tasting you. He tasted like gin and cigarettes and you sagged against him, relaxing as he kissed you. When he bit your lower lip, you gasped, feeling desire bolt through you like a lightning rod. He shoved the suspenders off, and your hands pressed to his chest, making quick work of the buttons. You elongated your neck, your fingers still expertly undoing the buttons. Rafael leaned over to kiss and nibble along your neck. The bristles of his mustache tickled you, making your skin twitch. You whimpered as his hands found your tits, kneading and teasing your flesh.

Rafael pulled away and removed his shirt, exposing his thick, solid frame. You drank him in - his hard nipples, the dark smattering of chest hair that trailed all the way down. You smiled and then shrugged off your suit jacket, followed by your blouse. Rafael’s mouth was immediately on your tits, sucking through the lace fabric. Your pussy throbbed in tandem with your heartbeat. You were already so incredibly turned on.

Rafael reluctantly pulled away and helped you off the desk so that you could strip away the remainder of your clothes. The skirt pooled at your feet and you stepped out carefully. You moved to roll down your garters, but Rafael stopped you.

You looked at him curiously, your brow arched.

“Leave them on. Panties too.”

“Your Honor, how exactly are you going to get that magnificent cock in me if I don’t take them off?”

Rafael smirked, his sea glass eyes sparkling. “On your knees.”

You sank to your knees, appreciating the bulge that strained against the zipper of his slacks. You ran your hands up the front of his thighs before nuzzling against his strained cock. You sat back on your hind legs and licked your lips watching in awe as he took his massive length out. He tightened his fist around the base and pumped a few times. One hand held the back of your neck, and the other guided his hard cock toward you.

“Stick your tongue out, sunshine.” You do as you are told, much to his immediate delight, swirling it against the head, tasting the heady-salty taste on your tongue. “That’s a good girl.” You wrapped your tongue around the tip and flit your tongue over the opening. His hand left your neck and immediately entangled his hands into your hair.

“Fuck.” Rafael grunted.

Placing your hands on the front of his thighs, you leaned forward, taking him slowly. Saliva dripped from the corners of your mouth. You reached for his balls, rolling them around in your palm while you sank your mouth further down, gagging around the intrusion in your throat each time. A series of expletives echoed around the room. “Fuck yes, fucking incredible, fuck that’s it, good girl.”

You wrapped your hand around the base and move it in rhythm with your mouth, moaning and gagging, looking up at him with big, watery eyes. His head fell back, stomach muscles flexing, deep, satisfied grunts as his hips drove forward, nudging deeper.

“So fucking good, sunshine. You are so fucking good for daddy.”

His thrusts get harder and sloppy, telling you how close he is, and when you cup his balls gently with your free hand, Rafael takes a sharp breath, his fat cock twitching a few times. His hands tightened in your hair as he came hard down your throat. You take him deeper, sucking around his pulsating cock, slurping loudly, accompanying his low growling as he shot his warm, salty, white load into your mouth. You swallowed everything he gave, eyes still watering and throat raw. Rafael reached down to clean up the corner of your mouth with his thumb, and you take his digit into your mouth, licking it clean.

“Back on the desk. Lay down.” His voice was low and gravelly and it made you goosebump in response.

You do as he says and Rafael makes his way between your legs. You propped yourself up as you watched Rafael stroked himself languidly, a bead of pre-cum pearling at the head. His refractory time is non-existent as he is soon hard as a rock again. He used his thumb to swipe over it and continued to pump his cock. “Lay back. Spread your legs.”

You do as told, and that earned another “good girl” from Rafael, which made you inwardly keen.

Your hair was fanned out on the desk, your tits exposed. The garter straps were strained along your skin as the elasticity was pushed to its limits. He undid the hooks and then stretched your legs wider. He licked his lips at the very noticeable wet spot on your panties. He pushed your panties to the side. He pulled down your panties and he began to stroke himself against your soaked pussy. Over and over he rubbed his cock along your folds and swollen clit. It was rousing and lewd, the filthy act of him using you to get himself off. He let go of your panties, which were now stretched to cover his cock, providing a delicate friction. You played with your tits, squeezing and kneading as Rafael kept rubbing his thick, hard cock against you. The head of his cock slid against your clit, resulting in gentle pressure. It didn’t take long and you groaned, shuddering against him you came, your cunt clenching around nothing.

You were still in a daze, coming down when you realized your panties were being yanked off. Rafael bent down so that he was on his knees; his breath was warm against your soaking cunt, and you were desperate to relieve the aching in between your legs. He slipped a finger in and he let out his own groan of satisfaction at how easily it sunk in. Your cunt gripped his finger tightly and you sighed in relief at the feeling of his finger stroke you.

He slipped a second finger in then, his digits scissoring against your soaked, swollen walls and stretching you out. Curling the pads of his fingers up towards that soft spot inside of you, you couldn’t help it - you ground your hips down against his hand shamelessly.

“That’s it, good girl, gonna stretch that little pussy out, get it nice and ready for daddy. I am going to fuck you so good.”

You spread your legs as wide as they’ll go, giving Rafael the perfect view of how dripping wet your pussy is. The slick, wet sound is the only noise in the room, other than your whimpers and moans. His cock was already hard again, curving proudly against the swell of his belly with cum glistening on the end.

Rafael kissed along your thighs, before settling at your cunt. He took a deep breath, relishing the smell of your arousal before parting your fold to reveal your bundle of nerves. You felt a wad of spit land on your swollen clit and you hissed. His mustache tickled, albeit briefly, before the tip of his nose brushed against your clit, causing you to push further down against his face. You wound your fingers through his thick hair to steer his face and keep him in place. Rafael ate you out as if he was a man possessed, starved and maddened for your taste. You were wet before, now you were an obscene flooded mess. He alternated, fingers and tongue, scissoring and stretching you more. Your arousal gushed, flooding his thick mustache.

You looked down the valley of your breasts, through the plane of your body at the sight of the dark hair between your legs. There was no way you could go back to anything normal - not with the way Rafael was working you. He had already ruined you for other men and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

He circled your clit haphazardly with the fat pad of his thumb and you shatter, wailing as you come again, rewarding Rafael with a flood of your arousal. “Goddamn,” Rafael murmured as he helped you up to standing. You barely hear him, your nerves already white hot and sizzling.

Rafael kissed you deeply, and you could taste yourself on him. Any other time you would have turned away, but there was something about him that you didn’t mind. Your foreheads touch as you both pant. “You okay?” Rafael quietly checked in. You nod. “Yes. Keep going.”

Rafael’s eyes darkened with lust. He spun you around and pushed you over the desk. “I’m going to fuck this tight little pussy and you’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Please.”

Rafael smacked his cock against your ass before he pushed his way in. You cried out, gripping the desk hard as your walls adjusted to his size. “Fuck, you’re so big!”

“And that’s only half,” Rafael chuckled darkly. He pulled out and then thrust forward again, this time bottoming out.”

You gasped at the intrusion and Rafael trailed his fingers delicately over the knobs of your spine. Ebbs of pleasure began to eek out and you wiggled your hips, the sign to Rafael to begin to move.

“You feel so fucking good, such a perfect pussy.”

Rafael drove into you, pounding with a ferocity that has you cock-drunk stupid. You meet every thrust forward by pushing back onto him, your ass rippling with each piston. Rafael dug into your hips and you took him, just as he said you would. His hand swung back and he laid a hard smack on your ass. The crack and burn caused you to open your eyes - you hadn’t even realized you had closed them. You turned your head to look back and Rafael bent down to kiss you fiercely. He wanted more of you, all of you, it was as if you consumed him and he, you. He pulled you upwards, so your back was to his chest. His hand snaked up to grasp at your tits as he licked from your shoulder up your neck, chasing the salt of your skin. Your entire body trembled as your cunt squeezed him deliciously, the pleasure flooding you. Rafael’s hand snaked down to where you are both joined, easily finding your clit. His fingers rubbed furiously and you came hard, your body seizing and your mouth falling slack as you tumbled off the cliff into an orgasmic haze.

Rafael waited for your orgasm to subside, before he dropped you back onto the bed. His body was over yours instantly as his mouth crashed against yours. He rolled, so you were on top. “Come on sexy mama, ride me like you’d ride a cowboy.” He smacked the outside of his sweaty thigh. You lift yourself and sink down, taking him completely in one motion. The room reeks of sex and sweat as you brace your hands on his chest and try to bounce. “It’s too much! I can’t! You’re so fucking big!”

“Don’t be a quitter, sunshine. I know you can take The Judge.”

“Fuck!” You begin to bounce more fervently, every thrust delicious and as punishing as the last.

The orgasm burst out of nowhere with a force to be reckoned with, but Rafael doesn’t pause; he doesn’t even slow down. He planted his feet up and began to thrust upward into you. You fall forward and every subsequent thrust has you crying into his mouth, and digging your nails into his chest. Your thighs and lungs are burning but you don’t dare let up.

“Look at you taking it all like a good fucking girl,” Rafael grunted. “Gonna come again for The Judge?”

You nod into the crook of his neck and bite his shoulder as you come again, your pussy spasming around his cock. Rafael’s thrusts get sloppier and he stiffens as he comes inside of you. Your body is jello and he rolls you back onto your back, withdrawing at the same time. His cock is still spurting and he jerks himself to completion over your tits. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes,” he hissed repeatedly as he finally finishes emptying.

“Cut!”

You lay there, unable to move, completely wrecked in the best way. You curl into yourself and start laughing. “Oh my God, that was amazing.”

Rafael chuckled to himself. He pulled you up into kneeling and kissed you softly. “Glad you enjoyed yourself. I sure as shit did.” There was a tenderness on his face and you appreciated that he didn’t just saunter off. Someone approached with robes and towels and Rafael takes them, before handing over one to you.

—--

The ride home between you and Rafael is quiet with Sadie blathering on in the back. At one point he gazed over to you and arched a brow in amusement and you smiled in return. You rolled down the window and put your bare feet onto the dashboard. You lit a cigarette and blew out the smoke, your body sore and aching but completely content.

It’s late when you and Sadie finally get back home. Sadie is the first one in and you hang back to finish your cigarette.

Rafael approached you and took the cigarette from your mouth. He took a deep drag and blew out smoke circles in return. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a stack of bills. He counted out $500 and shoved the bills into your pocket. “Today’s pay,” he grunted as he kept the cigarette in his mouth. “Liv will be in touch. Think about what I said.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just nod as you watch him head back out into the night.

“Girl, get inside!” Sadie shouted through the screen door. “You owe me a story!”

You reached into your pocket and take out the wad of bills. You smiled before jogging back inside. Maybe, perhaps, it was time for a career change.

FIN

—

Tags: @beccabarba @melk917 @madpanda75 @dreamlover31 @plaidbooks @mrsrafaelbarba @mrsraulesparza @witches-unruly-heart, @pepperbstark, @privatetruths-blog @irishavengersassemble, @umnitsa, @duuu127, @viktoriasisk220015, @uhhh-hi-there, @storiesofsvu, @zoeykaytesmom - it’s been a hot minute so not sure anymore who wants to be tagged or not. Just msg me if you wanted to be added on. Apologies if I missed anyone. 💋

[floylia]

𝐈𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 🖋️

PROLOGUE 00. Rhetoric of Fiction

“The author of a narrative is, in the end, responsible for everything that happens in the text” —Wayne C. Booth

—SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT

NO HOUSE REMAINS the same. Not the cracks on the walls. Not the creaks on the floors.

The moon gleams from afar, staring at him as if he’s making an awful decision. His eyesight can only go so far. Even the flashlight doesn’t help.

From a distance, the mansion is eerie.

Overgrown vines hug the old bricks along the walls. It looks like one of those houses little kids would run up to as a dare–knocking on the doors or ringing the doorbell only to run away with fables that of Beauty and the Beast.

Nonetheless, he trudges through the rocky cobblestone path with hedges too long for comfort and swats some of the leaves and purple flowers he doesn’t recognize poking his legs. Once he reaches the gate of the house, he puts the small flashlight in his mouth while his hands claw at the keys hiding inside his pockets. He has too many junk inside–gum wrappers, his wallet, the keys–

He found the keys.

But, there’s no lock.

What? Scaramouche tilts his head. He looks to his left then to his right. It’s dead silent. Only the occasional chirping of birds and rustling of leaves as the wind breeze hugs his back until the hairs on his body stand taller than him.

He locked the gates. He remembers that. What he doesn’t remember is unlocking it and misplacing the lock.

His heart is pounding now—faster than before. He hears it racing through his leather jacket. He takes his first steps, and the rest follow. His dominant hand carries the pocket flashlight he brought, while the other is one call away from the cops. Just like the gates, the door is unlocked. There are no signs of a break-in–no scratches or broken handles. Either someone had a key or they picked it.

The hallway is enveloped in pure darkness with the occasional moonlight peeking through the vintage windows from the living room. He glances at the patterned walls with paintings from the infamous, “Calx,” picture frames of his mother, and never-ending lines of awards honoring literary works over a career that engraved itself in history. The wooden floor makes a creak–it’s from his own making. Then he hears a loud thump from upstairs. Without hesitation Scaramouche hurries to the kitchen, grabs a knife–the first one he can find and mutters prayers to a god he doesn’t worship. In moments of desperation, anything is possible.

He heads upstairs and finds the library door closed but the lights are on. Someone’s home. He steps closer, each action deliberate.

He opens the door.

And sees a face that haunts his dreams.

“What are you doing here?” The nerves are still there, but he can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, just for a few.

Even with your back turned. Scaramouche knows and he hates himself for it.

You don’t respond to him. He watches how your eyes wander around the room like a kid visiting a carnival for the first time—too excited to decide which ride to do. Then he sees your hands toying with the keys he presumed was used to access this house. The same ones he’s holding—an intricate vintage skeleton key—belonging to his aunt.

He feels a surge of bitterness course through his veins. He knew your affiliation with her—his aunt’s beloved mentee. How accepted you were in his family than he is that you even have access to one of his family heirlooms. How they used you as comparison for the values he lacked and the mistakes he made.

It’s not your fault, he knows that. Yet a part of him can’t help but see his insecurities when he looks at your perfection—and most of all, he can’t suppress the anger in his stomach when he looks at your eyes and sees betrayal. How you grew up together like strings one couldn’t untangle. Just two friends who knew nothing of trust and lies at an age where fantasies were possible because you once made him believe. Yet, as time went on, he watched you cut those strings, leaving him only with the knot, holding on tighter until it bruised his palms that he was forced to let go—and the ugly truth was how badly he chased that high.

“Will you drop the knife?” You say suddenly and it grounds him back to reality–that he’s holding a knife and you’re trespassing on private property.

He smirks and it’s not a playful one, “Does it scare you?”

You match his expression, “No. In fact it excites me knowing you feel threatened by my presence.”

“You give yourself too much credit,” Despite the venom in his words, he puts down the knife to the wooden floor.

“It’s one of my defining features.”

He rolls his eyes, “It shouldn’t.”

“You’re acting like I’m a stranger.”

“Well, you’re not a friend,” He shrugs and he hopes the truth hurts. Speaking with you had always felt like sharing a little secret. The thought pisses him off. Why you’re standing in front of him pisses him off. Everything about you pisses him off.

He sees a tick of irritation in your face but you cover it up with a smile,“Are you that petty?”

“Are you going to explain or do I need to call the cops?”

You put your hands up to ease the threat, “I’m not here for trouble.”

He raises a brow, “Doesn’t look like it. I suggest you start explaining or the only thing you’ll be seeing tonight is me through the bars. Although, I’m sure you’d love to see my face all night.”

You scoff at his implications, ready to bite back, but you see his smirk turn back into a thin line, urging you to explain and fast, because his patience for you is running out. So you do. You point at the blank wall across the library, “Do you see something missing?”

“It’s an empty white wall.”

“You have no regard for the arts.” You mumble as if he isn’t supposed to hear. But he did.

He crosses his arms, “And you have no regard for people’s private property.”

“You act like you don’t make bad choices.”

“I’m not the one breaking in someone else’s home.”

“I have keys!” You dangle the copper keys in front of him. You took a deep breath, readjusting yourself to recollect your thoughts, “I sent your aunt a lovely painting. The Sakura tree from her latest novel.”

“Good for you. You’re not special, everyone gives her free shit all the time. Are you here to take it back, now that she’s dead?”

“Yes, but no—I came here for questions.”

“Did the empty house give you an answer?” He says sarcastically, indifferently, and boredom.

“They did. Aren’t you curious?”

He is. But he still says “no” out of spite. You would know he’s lying anyway.

“You should. Considering how your aunt wound up dead.”

He squints his eyes. She died only weeks ago. He’s here because of her house, her novels, and her legacy–to say goodbye to a “beloved” he barely knew. He hoped he could glimpse into her life not in the manner he did. Now that he’s here, he’s left with more questions. The way everything unfolded didn’t make any sense in his head as if he’s trying to relearn an origami but it fails to live up to its expectation. The story of his life, he guesses.

“What are you trying to say?” He asks.

“That it’s not the mind that kills.”

CHAPTER SUMMARY:

Scaramouche visits his dead aunt’s house, only to find you “trespassing” with more questions than answers—that perhaps her death had more secrets than truth.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

The first chapter always scares me, because it’s the face of the series. It’s supposed to be the hook, so I edited this shit a lot LMAO. I had to post this chapter so I stop messing with it. I’m excited for this series. I hope you guys are too :))

🏷️ (OPEN):

@danfelions @scaraenthusiast1 @meowrenapurrdo @dreamayy @misterpoofin @eternal-dokja @lalaloveallmydays @jshkfan

[balkanradfem]

As you might have figured out, I don't like buying stuff. I despise the store, the supermarket, the mall, to hell with them. I will make whatever I need from stuff I have at home, or I will find it outside, or get it from someone who doesn't need it anymore, my last ditch effort will be the second hand market.

But, it also happens that I had a need to buy.. a specific thing. And I couldn't get it from the second hand market, and I didn't know anyone who had an extra one. This of course, caused me pain and anguish, because it meant I would have to walk into a store, grab a product that wasn't strictly necessary for human survival, and then pay for it, and walk out. Like a consumer.

And it's not like my life depended on it, I just, really wanted one, okay.

I needed a silicone spatula.

One thing I hate even more than buying things, is throwing food away, and sometimes,,, I could not get the last drop of the soup from the big soup pot, I couldn't wrangle out the last few drops of salsa sauce I canned, I couldn't get every last bit of pancake mix to drip outside the bowl. That is another torment which I tried to resolve by excessive spoon scraping, shoving my tongue inside jars, trying to dilute it with water and getting it out that way. But deep inside I knew there was a better way. That this could be dealt with in an easy, efficient, satisfying way with a single valuable object. A spatula.

I didn't do it impulsively; I had gotten some excellent news and I decided, as a celebration, that I would buy myself a spatula. It would be one thing I do out of my ordinary life, because it was an extraordinary day and I had just so much happiness and courage I could just manage to buy an object.

I have examined multiple stores to see what they were offering, and in the end found the cheapest, but the most beautiful looking spatula (it had a transparent handle with little bubbles inside, so fun!) and I grabbed it in awe, thinking how it will be the most beautiful object in the kitchen. But then. My environment-loving brain warned me that I'm about to buy an object made out of silicone. And I didn't know if silicone was environmentally friendly!

So I grabbed my phone, typed in 'environmental impact of silicone production' and read articles obsessively, standing in the store in the spatula isle. I found out it is better than plastic, but not ideal; it's not actively damaging the environment, it comes from natural materials, it's very resistant to heat and unlikely to damage anyone's health, it doesn't shed microplastic, but it's energy-consuming to produce it and it doesn't degrade or compost once it's made.

It wasn't a good environmental choice for me to buy the spatula. I was staring at it longingly, thinking of all of the food I could save with it. All the jars I could scrape clean, all soup that would be eaten. And I came to the conclusion that if this is the only spatula I ever buy, if I never throw it away, if I find someone to give it to at the moment of my death, who would also use it – then it doesn't matter as much that it's non compostable. It will be a lifetime object that I will cherish. And the rush and excitement I had built up, I couldn't give it up. So filled with existential guilt and shame for single handledly ruining the environment, I purchased my 2 euro spatula.

And it was glorious. Every single day I would be filled with happiness and satisfaction from this object, which would clean bowls and jars and pots from food so efficiently I actually had less work washing them later! I was getting more food, nothing was getting thrown away, my food-efficient brain was with me; this was an excellent idea. I am powerful, I am not wasting any food anymore, I can clean my pots and bowls with ease, all of the pancake mix is out, the joy could not be greater.

And just then – my new roommate moved in. And I love my roommate, and I noticed she didn't have any dishes or cutlery, so I told her with open heart, she could use mine as much as she likes, and I'd lend her pots and pans too if she needed them. Of course I would, she's a hard-working woman from Nepal who is so kind and works so much every day.

But this lovely, wonderful, awe-inspiring woman, decided to... she decided to cook her food exclusively using the spatula. We have so many wooden spoons meant for cooking and stirring, without even looking I can tell you we have 8. An excessive amount. They are all displayed in a big jar where I keep my spoons, wooden spoons and spatula. But the woman decided, no, I will use the spatula to cook every meal. Maybe it's because it's new and shiny? Maybe it's what she uses at home? I don't know.

And after cooking, she simply discards the spatula at the bottom of the sink.. and leaves it there.

And then I come to the kitchen, and look for spatula, and realize it's dirty, and I'm unwilling to do other people's dishes because that has never gone well in the past, so I just. Leave it there. And then make pancakes and weep. Because what have I done. I don't have the heart to tell this kind, warm, hardworking woman to not use my spatula, because she has enough trouble already in life, and she must like the spatula if she uses it! I can't tell her to wash it every time immediately because I know she has to rush for work and I also fail to do my dishes consistently and just wash them on Saturdays. I would look like a hypocrite. I can't tell her I'm a weirdo obsessed with scraping food from everything I cook in because I don't want to freak her out. And ultimately, does it really matter that much? It's just a spatula. It's just a spatula.

So I am writing to merely share my pain, caused by odd tendencies, enhanced by intense struggle with consumerism, and finding out in the end, it didn't even matter. My beloved spatula is currently in the sink, drenched and sullied from not even scraping food, but from stirring it instead. I was so happy to use it for a little bit. May she rest in peace.

[fashionteahouse]

Hello beautiful!! I hope you’re doing well!! 💗💗💗 Anyways, I was binging on all of your fics again cause they are just so addicting to read. And an idea popped into my head when I reread L$d with Paul and Embry.

This is what I had in mind. Rachel and reader are at her place beyond horny and frustrated. So wanting relief and eager to try something new, they go down at each other. As they are getting it on, Paul and Embry are on patrol. While they are on patrol, their heat suddenly arrives. Feeling desperate, they run to Rachel’s place as soon as their patrol is done. And they come home to a wild sight. But they freakin love it. Paul and Embry join in on the fun as Rachel and Reader help calm their heat down. Idk just a food for thought.

As always keep up the good work! Every fic you post is amazing!! Stay happy forever please!!

- 🪄 anon

hi lovely all is well ! thank you so much for the support and super kind words 😽💜 hope you enjoy :)

AN: for anybody who’s interested in reading : l$d part one l$d part two

lipgloss - reader x embry x paul x rachel

The sky was darkening as Embry and Paul rose up. You and Rachel rose up as well.

“I’ll be over Rachel’s. I don’t want to be by myself.” you say to Embry as he placed a kiss on your forehead and embraced you right before leaving out of the door.

“That’s fine. I’ll just come and get you when we’re done, alright?” he says to you and you nod. With that, Embry placed a kiss on your face and Paul tapped his arm to let him know it’s time to get a move on.

The soft smile you had on your face, disappeared as soon as he left, you sigh out.

Rachel points to the television at her place, “See? I so envy the girls who gets to be clingy to their man. I barely see mine.” she says and you chuckle, “Right.”

“I can’t wait until this lessens down. It seems like day by day, I see less and less of Paul.” she says, feeling a bit frustrated.

You shift so you’re face to face with her, “Yeah, that’s how it is with me and Embry. We don’t even have time to…Never mind.”

Rachel asks, “Have time to do what?”

“Nah. It’s a bit TMI.” you say as continue to watch the television.

“Y/N.” she says and you smile a bit, “Alright….It’s just that me and Embry haven’t had the time to be intimate. He’s too tired whenever he gets back. Only quick kisses and it’s like I’m about to go crazy.” you ramble.

Rachel slowly nods as she looked ahead, “I’m glad it’s not just me…I’ve never been in a situation where Paul didn’t want to give me head.”

“This is bad.” you comment.

“Super bad. I’m this close to humping someone’s leg like a dog.”

You laugh at this but you understood, you were in that same boat.

The series you two were watching went to a break, there was nothing but silence.

“So…How long do you think this will last?”

“Hopefully not long.” you say as you looked to her in horror.

“If it does,” she says and links her hand with yours, “Let’s forget about these stupid boys and get married ourselves.”

A grin appeared on your face, “Imagine..If we actually did.”

“I’ve never been with a girl so what do you think girls do when they’re married to each other?”

You shrug a little, “I don’t know.” you answer sheepishly, “Probably like hanging with your best friend but on steroids.”

“They have lots of sex. Maybe they’re onto something.” Rachel says with a slight groan.

“They give each other head. You’ll at least be happy forever.” you say as you both walk to the kitchen to place the empty dishes in the dishwasher. She bubbled out a laugh.

She looks to you as you’re about to sit down while she stands. You knew that look. She had an idea.

“Why don’t we…” she trailed off. You stare at her with a blink.

“Are you…About to ask what I think you’re about to ask?”

“Maybe?” she says before sucking in a small breath. She sits down next to you.

The series came on but neither was looking at the screen. You instead were looking at each other. Studying each other. Neither of you wanted to speak it out loud, but two hands were joined while Rachel caressed the back of your hand with a thumb.

Your heart pounded, for some reason you didn’t feel nervous. Little did you know, she felt the same way.

Faces were inches apart before closing in distance. It was very slow but lips eventually pressed against each other.

With a soft smack, you both silently thought it felt nice. You both lean in again to see how it felt again. It seemed as though the pent up emotions were pouring out. Soon, you slightly open your mouth to breathe but Rachel slowly took the initiative to slip her tongue in. You both sigh as you both hold onto each other. Warm pools flowed from between of both you and Rachel’s legs as it was exciting and new. You both kissed each other as if both lives depended on it. You both were so in the moment.

Lightheaded, you both opened hooded eyes before Rachel whispered out, “Should we…?”

“Maybe?” you whispered back. Without planning to, you both slowly rise in sync.

Standing in the bedroom that she shared with Paul, you looked at her as she looked at you. Slightly shaky but excited hands reach out and take a hold of her waist. She does the same before your mouths meet again. This time, you both were pressed against each other. You both were focused as this was something that you both were experiencing for the first time.

An intake of breath through your nose was taken as you felt fingers dip a bit in your pants. You both had your faces close without kissing, breathing in the same breath, but she slowly but carefully felt the wet mush that coated her fingers. It was sensitive. It had been a while.

“Let’s just do it.” Rachel whispered against your lips, almost desperately. She was completely vulnerable. You were completely vulnerable. You nod slightly as she lets out a soft but heavy breath as you let your fingers feel her warm wetness. She grabbed your hand and pushed it deep in her pants. It was as if she was relieved, relieved that someone was touching her. You were relieved that someone was touching you too.

Pants were shoved off and you join each other in bed, Rachel climbing on you to kiss you deeply. You both move your hips slightly as you both sensually dry humped each other as tongues met each other’s tongues again and again.

With a quiet moan, you felt her poked out chest under her shirt, her eyes slightly closed as she continued to rock her hips while sitting up upon you.

Her fingers rose your shirt up and helps you take it off.

Rachel leaned forward, pressing each other’s chests to each other as you both tasted each other’s mouths again. The movements were slow and sensual as you both were glued to each other. Your hands go to her naked back as she kisses your jaw and the side of your neck. Quiet sighs were heard from both of you.

Your fingers hit her underwear, your fingers slowly peels them down, she sits back and does the rest of the work of taking them off, leaving her naked before you. The sight was erotic as she then leaned forward over you, taking in a breast in her mouth. You lean your head back with a soft breath. Her wet tongue circled your hardened nipples as she caressed them, almost massaging them.

She lets her own hardened nipples scrape against yours as she captured your mouth in another wet kiss.

You peel your own underwear down, discarding then to the side.

Skin to skin, you both really moan as hands felt each other up while kissing.

Rachel was now on her back, she had no shame as she slowly cracked her legs open, revealing to you the glistening sight. Your fingers gently touch it, feeling the sticky but smooth substance.

“It’s like lipgloss.” you whisper and she quietly chuckled. She was silently excited but so were you.

Using your thumb, you softly pressed against her and circled it, watching her face slightly crumble from the sensation.

You just wanted to know what it tasted like. You put the thumb in your mouth to see what it tasted like and you hum out a sound of approval. Using your saliva to circle her sensitive nub. She slightly bit her lip as you sunk one finger into her. Her hips rolled and you worked your finger as she moaned out. You felt her hand touch your hand, signaling you to add another finger.

Pretty soon, she was fucking herself on your two fingers, twisting the sheets in her fingers as she focused with her hips.

Your fingers were coated after the small but intense orgasm. It was beautiful.

“You’re right. It is like lipgloss.” she whispered as she caught her breath and grabbed your fingers, taking the coated ones in her mouth. She cleaned them with her mouth before grabbing you back into a kiss, putting you right onto your back.

She used one swipe of her tongue on your opening that produced a breathy moan to escape out of your mouth.

Your legs got wobbly as she slowly took her time, licking and making out with your center, your hips lurched as she circled her tongue on your own sensitive nub. You saw stars and whispered out a “oh my god.”

You gifted her back with your own tongue. She held onto your head and the sheets next to her. Her moans were continuous. Her relaxed hips followed your tongue. You sucked her in as you ate her heart out, she whispered out your name like a prayer. She came, you didn’t care that her natural juices were spread across your face.

The patrol was boring, at least for Embry and Paul. They hadn’t seen any vampires for the time they’ve been out.

Embry felt something, something that was aching. He softly panted with his wolf mouth as he trotted through the woods. He was throbbing so much, it almost hurt.

Paul circled around a bit as he felt an aching sensation that wasn’t going away. His mind went to Rachel and how it’s been so long. He didn’t realize how much time went past as he thought back to the last time they were having sex.

“Paul man are you ready? I gotta get Y/N.”

Paul looked at Embry’s wolf. By the wild look, Paul knew he wasn’t the only one who was feeling in heat. Embry’s mind leaked out filling you with his puppies.

“Yeah, come on let’s go.”

Embry and Paul rushed to the home that you and Rachel were in. Pulling up their shorts, Paul opened the front door, he stopped in the doorway.

“What’s wro-“

“Shhh.” Paul says with a finger to his own lips, Embry froze, “You hear that?” Paul asks with a soft smirk.

Embry did hear it. Muffled moans filled the home but he figured it was whatever you two were watching and Paul was just being immature. Embry nodded.

Paul walks slowly through the home. Embry looked at the television that was running in the living room, nothing sexual was displayed, which made him confused because the noises continued.

Paul saw the cracked bedroom door, pushing it slowly open. His nose was met with a mouthwatering scent as his eyes darkened.

Rachel riding your thigh and knee, her eyes were slightly closed as your hands were glued to her chest as you massaged them.

You didn’t notice the presence of the two boys until you saw Paul lean with his head tilted, capturing Rachel in a kiss. She continued the buck of her hips as she held onto Paul’s neck, deepening the kiss. Your head turns to Embry who already has his shorts off, his hardened dick in his hand, slowly stroking himself.

Rachel moaned out with a high octave and Paul watched closely as she rode out her high. She flops next to you, trying to catch her breath.

Paul’s shorts were discarded and his dick bobbed with his movements as he hovered over Rachel next to you.

Embry followed his moments, except scooting you down to where your lower body is hanging off the end of the bed.

He sleeked himself against you as he leaned forward. You lean up to give him a kiss. You felt the bed rock, but Embry sunk into you, you both sighed out with relief. It’s been so long.

He pulls himself out, before sliding back in. It was driving you crazy as you tried to grab ahold of his arms but he was steady. His hardness allowing him to anticipate the next time he slid back in.

“Please Embry, please.” you begged in a whisper and with that he sunk himself deep as your legs were over his shoulders. His hips continuously snapped as you moaned out. His groan was quiet but firm as he continued to deepen his strokes. It was as if he was harder than ever before, his hand gripped the side of your hip, you gasp out the change in rhythm. You thought you were going to die by how hard you climaxed.

You lay back as your chest breathed up and down. Embry stroked himself as you noticed he was still hard as ever. You sit up, peek over to find Rachel riding Paul just like she was riding on your thigh.

Paul was staring up at her as if she was a goddess but he glanced at you, watching and you turn away. You reach forward and take a hold of Embry’s erection and sensually stroke him. His face went to the sky as he groaned.

You felt an open mouth kiss on your neck, finding Rachel at your side. She captured you in a kiss as you continued to stroke Embry.

One of her hands caressed your breast as you lay back, letting go of Embry. Embry instead sleeked against your moisture, as Rachel continued to eat at your mouth. She climbed on you, sitting against Embry’s hardness, her lips never detaching from yours.

You both moan into each other’s mouths as Embry continued to move, sleeking against both of you.

Rachel lets up, looking behind her, now moaning at Embry.

Your lips were captured but this time by Paul. You never kissed him before but you soon find that he had a talented mouth, his hand was groping your chest. You felt yourself be scooted away and you open your eyes, finding that Embry had Rachel against his chest as she had an arm around him, kissing him. Embry let her glide against his hardened flesh as his hands were greedy, feeling every inch of the front of her body.

Hot hands steered your chin away from that sight and his intense gaze is what’s in your eyesight. He kissed you deep as he pressed himself into you, both hands cupping the bottom of you as his hips were strong with deep strokes, your legs tightened around his waist as you cried out. His mouth then makes out with your ear. You were so far gone, you didn’t know what was what anymore as you blindly gripped his naked back.

As he pounded you from behind, gripping your hips so your arched back couldn’t move, you shakily gasped out at both the sensation and the sight of watching as Rachel rode Embry from behind, reverse cowgirl. She opens her eyes and softly smiled at you as she was able to lean forward, still riding him hard. She leans to bring you in a kiss. It was sloppy but still fulfilling.

Embry held you in his arms as he carried you out, starting the journey to the home you both shared. You were slumped and fast asleep in his arms. He peered down at you with slight amusement as he knew that you were worn out, the heated session did last for a long time. Him and Paul couldn’t help it, they did go on and on until they finally went limp. The aching between his legs was still there, but had lessened a lot. With a kiss on your nose, he made plans for the next time you opened your eyes.