#grey-throated chat

[squawkoverflow]

A new variant has been added!

Grey-throated Chat (Granatellus sallaei) © Justyn Stahl

It hatches from beady, dark, distinctive, female, long, low, male, puzzling, red, striking, tangled, tropical, and white eggs.

squawkoverflow - the ultimate bird collecting game          🥚 hatch    ❤️ collect     🤝 connect

[proton-wobbler]

Not-Warbler Showdown Finale: Bracket 10

Gray-throated Chat (Granatellus sallaei)

IUCN Rating: Least Concern

Range: resident; southern Mexico, especially the Yucatan, as well as Belize and Guatemala

Habitat: lowland forests and their edges in dry and semi-humid areas

Subspecies: 2

Wrenthrush (Zeledonia coronata)

IUCN Rating: Least Concern

Range: resident; Costa Rica to western Panama, purely in the highlands

Habitat: montane evergreen and elfin forests, especially near streams; a big fan of wet, fog-covered regions.

Subspecies: none

Olive Warbler (Peucedramus taeniatus)

IUCN Rating: Least Concern

Range: semi-migratory; breeds from southern Arizona and New Mexico down to northern Nicaragua. The northern population (AZ, NM, Sinaloa, Nuevo Leon) move south for winter.

Habitat: prefers open forests heavy with pine, fir and an understory with oak.

Subspecies: 5

Image Sources: Grey (Luke Seitz); Wrenthrush (Leonardo Valverde); Olive (Bryan Calk)

[ariestrxsh]

🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, public teasing, public punishment, blowjob, degradation, humiliation, use of blindfold, use of restraints, spitting, light slapping, light choking, fingering, pussy slapping, dacryphilia, use of sex toys in public, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mean!roughdom!chris, mean!roughdom!matt, brattysub!reader

🖤 summary: 🖤 after capitalizing off of a chance to tease chris and matt, making them both cum on stream and nearly humiliate them in front of their fans, they retaliate against you and give you a taste of your own medicine.

🖤 this fic name/song was inspired/requested by this ask and the concept was inspired/requested by this ask 💖 this is only the first part, and there will be multiple parts to this story. just a heads up, it gets rougher.

peaches & eggplants part one 💖

You knew Chris and Matt were going to punish you for what you were about to do, but you just couldn't wait until they were done streaming. They were both perched at the edge of their seats in front of the monitor while Matt played fortnite and Chris watched, arguing amongst each other while a naughty idea crossed your mind.

The viewers weren't supposed to know you were in the room with them, so you hung back out of view of the camera. The nice thing about this was Matt and Chris couldn't stop you without drawing attention to you, and you knew they wouldn't do that, and with Nick still out of the country, you could practically get away with anything temporarily.

You stayed out of sight from the audience while you got on your hands and knees and stealthily crawled across the floor until you were under the desk between Matt's legs. He and Chris were both in grey sweatpants, and they knew how mad it drove you whenever they'd wear them.

You peered up at the two brothers above you, both sets of eyes fixed on the screen, blissfully unaware of what you had up your sleeve. Your red-painted fingernails gently brushed over the bulge in Matt's sweats, alerting him to your presence, and he looked down at you under the desk with a shocked expression on his face.

He quickly pulled his gaze back to Fortnite and tried to act like everything was normal, but he gently swatted away at your hand, a lazy attempt to get you to cut it out. You persisted, tugging at the waistband until Matt's member sprung out from behind the cotton fabric.

This sudden movement tipped off Chris to your mischevious plan to get one - or both - of them off while on stream with thousands of people. Chris stared down at you in disbelief as you wrapped your hand around Matt's already half-hard cock and started playing with it while you innocently looked into his eyes, nibbling on your lower lip.

He clenched his jaw, giving you a flash of contempt, and you batted your eyelashes at him as if to silently say, "Oh, what? You're mad at little old me?"

Chris couldn't take his eyes off of the way you skillfully stroked Matt's length, and the audience started to notice the shift in the energy.

"What do you guys think they're looking at?" One fan asked. "What's under the desk?" Someone else typed into the chat.

Matt thanked a few people who gifted while trying to remain composed, but you made that incredibly difficult when you wrapped your lips around him and started gently sucking on the tip, making him fully erect.

Chris stared down in awe at the way you teased his brother, secretly wishing he could feel your mouth. Matt started playing badly due to the distraction in the room, but other than that, he did a decent job at acting nonchalant.

That was until you made his entire rod disappear behind your lips, the head lightly tickling the back of your throat. He threw his head back and let out a sigh but tried to play it off as a reaction to his character dying in the game.

Matt peeked down every few seconds to steal a glance at the way you looked nearly swallowing him whole. He secretly loved having you do such an intimate thing while trying to keep it a secret from thousands of people.

You furiously pumped your hand back and forth while you bobbed up on and down on Matt's length, and he placed his hand over his mouth to suppress the sounds he so desperately wanted to make and to conceal the way he was gnawing through his bottom lip.

Before he could get too close, you took your attention away from Matt and made your way between Chris' legs. He intently watched you with his eager, blue eyes and even lifted his hips for you to help get his sweats off. He relished in the sensation of your soft, pink lips engulfing his member, your tongue swirling around on his mushroom-shaped tip, and your hand massaging his shaft.

Since he was just watching Matt play Fortnite, he was able to let his hands wander. He combed his fingers through your hair and placed his palm on the back of your head, encouraging you to take him deeper. You looked up at him with your big, hungry eyes while you quietly gagged on his cock.

You took him out of your mouth, kneeling down beneath the two of them while you stroked them both at the same time. The two brothers did their best to hold it together and keep their eyes on the screen, but you just looked so good teasing them that they couldn't properly focus.

A few more suspecting people spoke up in the chat. "What does Chris keep looking at?"

"Why is Chris smiling down at his lap?"

"Wonder why Matt is playing so badly. They should play DTI."

You continued pumping your hands back and forth, seeing which of them you could make cum first, like it was a game. Both of their swollen tips stared back at you, leaking a pretty, pearlescent substance. Simultaneously, both of their cocks began twitching against your palms, and they each erupted, blowing their loads into your hands while they each let out a satisfied sigh.

Thankfully, Matt's character died once more at the same time they both finished, so given the context, most of the audience misconstrued their sounds as disappointment. But a few chats came through, speculating.

"Why did that sound so...?"

"That's how I'm trying to make them sound."

As their thick, white fluids coated both of your hands, Matt and Chris said their goodbyes to the chat. "We have a persistent problem we need to go take care of," Chris stated, glancing down at you before ending the stream.

You knew you were in for it, and you didn't know in which way they would punish you, but a mixture of excitement and nervousness flooded your system once the camera was off.

"You like being a naughty little whore, huh? Making me and my brother cum on stream together?" Matt inquired, giving you a serious look. "Yeah, you like making a fool out of us? Couldn't wait til we were done, you desperate little slut?" Chris smirked down at you.

"You know, Chris. I think we should give her a taste of her own medicine," Matt declared, looking over at his brother. "I think that's the best idea you've ever had, Matt. Needy little whore should know how it feels to try to hold it together while having an audience," Chris replied, reaching under the desk and dragging you out from under it.

"Go be a good girl for once, go wash off your hands, and put on your prettiest dress for us, hmm?" Matt requested. You nodded and did as he said while Matt and Chris changed out of their cum soaked sweats and into nice outfits as well.

They both put on white tank top, jeans, and flannels, and when they emerged from their bedrooms, Matt was holding a pair of handcuffs, and Chris had a bandana in his hand. You were in a simple black dress and red heels that matched your manicured nails, and they both looked you up and down while they came up behind you.

"It's better if you don't fight back, princess," Matt whispered into your ear while he closed the handcuffs down around your wrists. "Yeah, we're just gonna take you somewhere real nice. That's all," Chris whispered into your other ear while he blindfolded you with the bandana.

Your mind explored the possibilities while the two brothers each grabbed one of your arms, yanking you around and leaving red marks on your flesh while they forced you out to the car and practically threw you into the back seat.

Matt got into the driver's seat, and you heard the familiar sound of the key turning in the ignition and the engine turning over while you felt Chris get into the back seat with you. The car started moving, and you had no idea where the three of you were going, but the unknown intrigued you, and you felt a warm, wet sensation forming between your legs.

This was made worse when Chris grabbed ahold of your face with his rough, veiny hands, forced open your jaw, and stuck his long fingers into your mouth. "You've been a bad little girl," Chris taunted you while you sucked on his fingers. He relished in how soft and wet your pretty little mouth felt.

Once he removed his digits from your throat, he delivered a few swift smacks across your face. "Can't wait to punish you, darling," Chris growled, his warm breath on your earlobe. Chris dug in between your legs and started poking and prodding around your pink folds.

"Oh, naughty girl. You're so wet," Chris gasped, slipping his fingers into your heat and curling them until he hit your gspot. You whimpered against Chris' chest while he pentetrated you hard and fast, telling you what a naughty girl you were for liking it so much.

Before he could draw an orgasm out of you, he withdrew his fingers, and you could hear him licking them clean, accompanied by a primal groaning sound while he savored your taste. He then shoved his digits back into your mouth, filling your tastebuds with your own flavor and his saliva.

"Like the way you taste, pretty girl?" Chris cooed. "Mhmmm," you whined while he finger-fucked your throat, making you gag some more before removing them.

"You make such pretty sounds when I use you," Chris whispered, wrapping his bony fingers around your throat and choking you while he shook you around, and when you opened your mouth to take a breath, he spit in it. He smiled at the way you swallowed it for him.

You couldn't get enough of the way Chris handled you, treating you like a little doll that was made solely for his pleasure. Tears started to roll down your cheeks while Chris cut off your air flow. "Aw, little baby's gonna cry? I'll give you something to cry about," Chris taunted you.

You felt the car stop, and you heard Matt say from the front seat, "I'll be right back. Make sure she doesn't misbehave any more than she already has."

Chris reached underneath your dress, taking off your panties and he shoved them into your mouth while he admired your sweet, wet pussy. He started exploring the delicate folds with his fingers, teasing your slit, and rubbing your sensitive clit.

"If you're gonna be a little slut, I'm gonna treat you just like one," Chris told you, and without warning, his hand came down hard as he slapped your pretty little cunt, making it even more swollen. You jumped and squealed as more tears ran down your cheeks, pleasure and pain creating a wonderful concoction in your system.

You weren't sure how public of a place Matt had parked in, but it excited you to think about your pussy on display for anyone who walked by the car to see while you were in such a compromised position. More tears streamed down your face, and Chris taunted you some more. "Gonna cry for me?" He asked teasingly, slapping your pussy some more.

Finally, Matt came back to the car. "Oh, good. You already got her panties off of her?" Matt smiled down at you, fiddling with the package he'd just bought while he admired your swollen, puffy lips between your legs from the way Chris played rough with you. Your mind swirled with excitement about what they were going to do to you.

"Put these on her," Matt demanded, handing Chris something. Suddenly, you felt Chris slipping something onto your bottom half that seemed to be a pair of underwear, but not the ones you came here with that were crammed into your mouth.

"You have to download an app to control them," Matt told Chris, looking at the directions on the package. What were they talking about? Before much longer, you felt a buzzing sensation against your clit, and you started to squirm and whine. Vibrating panties?

"It's working," Chris said, reaching between your legs to feel the vibration. "Alright, princess. Let's go," Matt called back to you from the front seat as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Chris continued to manhandle you while he teased you with the vibrating underwear, playing with the settings to see how you'd react to them. He took your supple breasts out of your dress and lightly pinched your nipples between his teeth, causing them to stiffen.

Your moans were distorted by the fact that the underwear were still stuffed in your mouth, and Chris graciously removed them for you once you felt the car slow. When it came to a full stop, Chris was unlocking the cuffs and untying the bandana you had wrapped around your head, and when you saw the two boys in front of you, they were smirking and chuckling at you.

Matt threw your purse at you and said, "Fix your hair and your makeup. You look like a cheap slut." You cleaned up your running mascara, touched up your eyeliner that had been rubbed away, and reapplied your smeared red lipstick. You had just finished smoothing out your stray hairs when you peered up from the little mirror in your hand and realized you were in the parking lot of a fancy Italian restaurant.

"Fuck," you whispered, realizing what this meant. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" Matt asked you in a fake sympathetic tone as it dawned on you. "Yeah, what's the matter, baby? You don't want us to make you cum with those little vibrating panties while we eat dinner in this crowded restaurant?" Chris chuckled at you. You looked at both of the boys wide-eyed and gulped. "What? You can dish it, but you can't take it?" Matt asked.

The three of you got out of the car. As you started walking toward the entrance, Chris turned the vibrating underwear back onto the first setting, and he watched you nearly stumble. They laughed at you, and Chris mimicked the way you almost tripped, making them laugh harder.

"Okay, princess. Now just tell them we need a table for three," Matt told you as you guys started to make your way through the door. They let you lead the way and approach the hostess stand, but right as you opened your mouth to speak, Chris turned the panties up a setting. Your breath caught in your throat, and your eyebrows furrowed, but you managed to get out the words, "Table for three, please." The hostess gave you a weird look but led you guys to a booth towards the back.

There were a few tables around where you guys sat, and you surveyed the people sitting at them, wondering if they had any idea they were getting dinner and a show. Chris and Matt sat next to each other across from you, and the hostess told you guys your server would be with you in just a moment.

Once you got into the booth, you crossed your legs to muffle the sound of the vibrating, but having your thighs squeezed together made the sensation feel more intense. Both Chris and Matt peered up at you from their menus, smirking. "Look at how pathetic she looks. She can barely keep it together," Chris said as you slouched down in your seat and bit your lip to keep a whimper from escaping.

There was a secret part of you that loved being teased in such a public place, but you still would have been mortified if anyone had found out what the three of you were up to. You sat up straight in your seat when the server came back to grab drink orders. Chris ordered a Pepsi, of course, Matt, a water, and you requested a peach bellini.

You figured if you were going to be humiliated and get your rocks off in a restaurant full of people, you might as well get drunk while doing it.

When the waiter asked to see your ID, you reached into your purse with a trembling hand, retrieved it, and slid it over towards him on the table. "Thank you, Miss," he said, studying the photo and your facial features to make sure they matched up. He slid it back over to you and walked away to go fetch your drinks.

Before you could pick it up at put it back in your purse, Chris reached over and snatched it away from you, looking at your driver's license photo that you hated of yourself. "I don't know, Matt. She had to show this horrible picture of herself to our waiter. That might be humiliation enough," Chris meanly joked. Matt chuckled along and rolled his eyes.

You stood up and went to grab it from Chris, but he pulled it back. "Hey. Don't bite the hand that feeds you. Or the hand that's controlling your vibrating panties right now," Chris said in a low, serious voice. Then he took your ID and flung it at you. It landed in your lap, and you scooped it up and tossed it back into your bag.

Matt and Chris stared at you lustfully and hungrily as you tried to hold it together while Chris played around with the different levels, alternating between the first three. Every time you looked like you were holding it together too well, he'd turn it up a notch, and any time your legs started to shake, and your eyes rolled back into your head while you gripped the fabric of the booth beneath you, he'd turn it down.

The server returned to take your food order, and the boys agreed upon bruschetta as an appetizer. Chris ordered himself chicken alfredo, and Matt ordered chicken parmigiano. When the server got to you, you cleared your throat, sat up taller, and tried to ignore the way you were being broken down slowly by the powerful sensation between your legs that was being controlled by the two gorgeous men across from you.

"I'll have the eggplant parmigiano, please," you managed to say, looking almost completely normal besides your flushed face and the bead of sweat that formed on your brow. The server took your menus and told you he'd return shortly with your drinks.

"Let me see it," Matt said to Chris, reaching for his phone. Chris handed it off to him, and Matt looked at you intently with a devilish grin as he kicked it up to level four. You slouched over onto the table and buried your head in your hands, completely unable to hide the pleasure written into your expression.

You peered back up at Matt with the neediest look in your eye, and your lips slightly parted while you started to tremble again. Matt shut off the vibration completely and watched the disappointed look come across your face as he ruined your orgasm. "You think I'd let you cum right away? After that shit you pulled earlier. Nah, you've been a naughty girl," Matt murmured, turning it back on to level one.

The waiter brought over your drinks, and you weakly smiled at him as he walked away. Matt turned the vibrator up a setting as an older lady made eye contact with you, and you sputtered on your alcoholic drink as you took a big sip. She shot you a dirty look as you rolled your eyes back into the back of your head and bit down on your lip.

You knew you weren't being sneaky, but you couldn't help the way you were being manipulated by two boys, a pair of vibrating underwear, and a remote control app.

The server made his way back again, bringing the bruschetta out on his way to greet another table that had just been sat in the section. You took another sip of your bellini, preparing for the night to be long and embarrassing.

Chris and Matt both indulged in the appetizer, obnoxiously licking the balsamic glaze from their fingers and making animalistic sounds while they made eye contact with you. They knew what they were doing, and it was working. Your mind wandered, imagining how they'd lick their digits clean after fingering you, much like Chris had earlier on during the ride to the restaurant.

"Naughty girl, keep your mind out of the gutter," Chris replied, sucking on his finger, smirking, and narrowing his eyes as if he was inside your head, and in a way, he was. You picked up your bellini glass with a shaky hand and took another big drink.

The waiter came back around to check out refills, and when he asked if you'd like another one, motioning towards your nearly empty glass, Matt turned the setting up another notch, and without thinking, you grabbed onto the waiter's arm, practically whimpering, "Yes please."

He gave you a confused look and gently tugged his arm away from you. "Sorry. She gets a little touchy when she's tipsy," Chris apologized for you, and the waiter brushed it off and walked away.

Matt and Chris both made fun of how you were unable to hold up any kind of facade, and they decided to cut you some slack for a bit, so you could enjoy your food when it came out. The waiter delivered your meals and another round of drinks for you all while you tried to catch your breath and dabbed the sweat from your face.

You were about half-way through your plate and halfway done with your second fruity, bubbly beverage before Chris took his phone back from his brother and started turning on the panties again. You looked at them both and all you could think about was how badly you wanted them to use all your holes when you guys got home, and a few needy whines passed through your pretty lips.

The waiter came back around to ask if you guys were enjoying your food, and all you could do in response was tell him, "It's sooo good," in a sultry voice while you peered up at him with desire in your eyes and bit down on your knuckles to suppress another moan. He gave you an inquisitive look and then looked toward the boys sitting across from you, asking if you guys wanted to order anything else after your meals.

"We'd love to all share the classic vanilla ice cream, please," Chris told the waiter, and then he smirked up at you, knowing how torturous it was going to be for you to hold it together through dessert, too. The server nodded and walked off to go update the bill.

You tried to finish your food and your drink while you tried to seem as put together as possible. Chris played with the settings again, bringing you as close to orgasm as he could before yanking it away from you and repeating this while you pathetically writhed in the booth across from him.

A few people who were sitting around you guys started to catch on. Some of them gave you disgusted looks and tried to ignore what you and the boys were doing. Some couldn't keep their eyes off you, hungrily looking you up and down as they silently prayed they'd get to watch you come undone in the restaurant.

The server returned with the ice cream and three spoons, and he bussed the dishes out of your way. Chris turned up the vibrating panties to the highest setting. "Have some ice cream, princess," Chris whispered, handing you a spoon.

Hell, you were already indulging in a form of public sex, indulging in good food and alcohol, and so you might as well complete the hedonist trifecta and indulge in sugar as well.

With a trembling hand, you grabbed the handle and got a small scoop of ice cream, and stuck it into your mouth. "Mmmm," you moaned, which was partially a response to the taste and partially a response to the frequencies buzzing against your sensitive cunt.

"I sure do love ice cream," Chris declared, getting a spoonful of it and making sure to suggestively lick his utensil clean while he looked in your eyes. "I love eating it and licking it up," Chris moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head, taunting you.

Matt followed, seductively lapping up the dessert. He looked directly at you while he dragged his tongue across the spoon in a long, slow lick.

As you imagined how their tongues would feel manipulating your pussy, your orgasm tore through you with incredible force. It took everything in you to conceal the reaction your body was having, and it was impossible to be completely subtle.

Your legs shook involuntarily as you held them crossed together tightly, and you grabbed onto the booth seat to anchor yourself while your climax crashed over you like a wave, eager to sweep you away in its current. You furrowed your brows, closed your eyes, and a few loud moans escaped your lips while your orgasm took its course.

When you opened your eyes, almost everyone around you was staring at you, including the waiter who had dropped off the check while you were in the midst of enjoying yourself.

"Let's go before someone calls the cops and reports us for public indecency," Chris smirked at you guys, tossing a few hundred dollar bills on the table, giving the server an extra big tip for having to put up with your guys' shenanigans, and the three of you fled the restaurant.

High on adrenaline, you guys piled into the car and peeled out of the parking lot.

"I hope you guys didn't like that restaurant too much, because I don't think we could ever go back. They'll probably put a picture up of our faces in the front like they do with dine and dashers," Matt chuckled from the driver's seat.

"More like dine and smash," Chris joked, and the three of you burst into hysterical laughter.

After the snickering died down, Chris let out a huge sigh and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling out his big, hard dick. Your jaw dropped, and your mouth widened as you watched it practically jump out of his pants.

He wrapped his arm around you and pushed your head down, lowering your mouth onto his cock and whispered in a demanding tone, "We're not done with you yet, whore. Don't just think that 'cause we're laughing, you're done receiving your punishment."

part two here 💖

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @munchingmini @butterbean-01 @coolasice01 @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @mattsfavbigtitties @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @karttpet @ssturnioloos @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @slxtformatt @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mynameisuser834 @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1

[phone4pills]

WHEN WE’RE OLD bf!Matt x Reader

no smut (nnn), fluff, a little upset but a happy ending, cutie matt, anon request

“Hey… it’s okay. He’s okay!” Matt hushed you, pulling you into his side with an arm over your shoulders. Tears rolled down your face at a rapid pace. And all for what? An old man eating alone across from your table. Matt understood where the pain was rooted. It was upsetting to see, only because of the vulnerability radiating off of the scene. But he was sure the man was alright. He was smiling at the waiters and enjoying his meal.

Although, you couldn’t help but notice the image he was holding in his hand. An old picture of a beautiful woman, short curls falling just above her shoulder and a beret on her head. Her cherry-red lips painted a graceful smile across her face, one that seemed purely of joy. And it stripped your joy watching him stare at the rusty piece of paper with utmost wonder, grey eyes flitting between each crease on the surface of the worn-out material. “Matt he’s all a-alone.”

He shook his head, wiping the odd tears off your cheeks before leaning closer to you. “Why don’t we go over there, eat lunch with him?” You stared up at your boyfriend, eyes full of a new found hope. You didn’t think he’d suggest such a thing, and you certainly didn’t think you’d agree. But once you did, the two of you were making your way over to him quickly.

The man introduced himself as ‘Ernie’, he said he was waiting for his wife to return from the restroom. You let out a relieved huff. Despite your knowledge of his company, you and Matt decided to sit at the table with the couple. It was like a double date. Ernie and his wife, Marg, or fifty years and you and Matt, your boyfriend of almost fifty days. Didn’t seem like much compared to the elderly couple, but it was a full month and more.

Marg looked gorgeous. Secretly, you hoped you’d age like her, still rocking the classic red lip.

Lunch was a pleasure, with the four of you chatting away. From stories to jokes to debates, all of you were engaged in conversation for a few hours. And after you left, you told Matt how happy you were. “Those were some of the best hours of my life.” You spoke as Matt helped you into the car. He nodded, closing your door and making his way to the driver’s side of the vehicle. You could tell he wanted to say something but he was struggling to let it out. “Matt, are you okay?”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah- um, yeah I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

Matt turned in his seat to face you. “I just hope we can eat lunch together when we get old.”

TAGLIST: @hearts4werka @pvssychicken @sturnslcver @sophand4n4 @sofieeeeex @lovingregulusblack

Awww, this one was a short one but it was just as cute in my opinion. May this love find me! I feel like Matt would say this shit too. Anyways, send in your requests and go to my f-ing MASTERLIST ik you want more you sap. And @sirenedeslily since you needed a cleanse!

- ©phone4pills

[san8ny]

WHEN YOU FANTASIZE, AM I YOUR FANTASY?

!: sfw, a bit of morally grey! Ellie, infidelity.

?: Ellie can’t seem to leave Jesse’s girlfriend alone..

Ellie is not a bad person, she swears she isn’t.

“You have a nice lip shape..” you murmur absentmindedly, smudging out the lipgloss on the sides of Ellie’s ajar mouth with your thumb, eyes looking anywhere but directly up at where you hover over her. This feels sweetly intimate, she thinks, palms directly on your sides as she steadies you on her lap, pretty much since you need a comfortable position to apply products onto her face; The room is warm, rainfall falling lightly on the windowsill rhythmically as the dim lampshade casts a golden hue on your face.

Her eyes finally fall on you and she hopes you don’t notice the slight dilation in her ivy orbs, her affection for you running rampant while Jesse’s game echos where he lounges in the living room a few rooms away from where you two currenly sat in her bedroom— on her bed.

She liked you, you had spunk that none of Jesse’s previous girlfriends had; more importantly, you actually acknowledged her existence living with him, rather than seeing her as a nuisance or a 3rd wheel, always making her feel involved when you two would just chat it up.

Guilt gnawed at her heartstrings whenever you’d go out of your way to be polite to her, often times shushing Jesse when he’d interrupt whatever she had to say, your undivided attention on her as you closely listened to her, even scooting closer.

She practically went to bed with you on her mind; and god, was her appetite and both jealousy maxed out on the nights you would sleep over, perversely having her ear up against the door while you and Jesse fooled around, closing her eyes and imagining it was her around your arms and not her longtime friend.

When her fingers slowly trail up to your baby blue, lacy bralette, you’re pulling away slightly, making small distance,

“Ellie, we’ve talked about this—

“You don’t even like him like that.” She immediately retorts, croak in her throat expanding when you don’t allow her to get anymore closer than she already is. She looks nothing short of pathetic right now and she knows it— you know it.

“Just one kiss..” She attempts to negotiate, eyes pooling with desperation, “I can’t move on fast, you know this..”

She’s down-bad to the point she doesn’t even see the corner she’s put herself in; even if you were to potentially take up her offer and put an end to whatever was left of your relationship with Jesse, you’d still have to actively see him everyday. Lost in your thoughts, Ellie’s burying her head in your lap while you mindlessly run digits in her hair, massaging her tender scalp like you did all those nights you two spent together as you form a conclusion.

“and what about him?” You whisper, humoring the idea, but she doesn’t respond, eyes trained on the shadow moving underneath her door and additionally, way too comfortable in the warmth you held to give a response. She eventually mumbles something but it falls incoherent before she completely goes non-verbal, just focusing on the massaging of your honeyed fingertips.

It was a sickly sight, to say the least, and Jesse would agree.

He stands near the wall adjacent of Ellie’s bedroom door, heart racing as it all dawns on him why she’d been so fond of you and not the others. What he’d just witnessed through the small crack of her door has just completed changed everything, and yet explained it all at once.

A small part of him doesn’t blame Ellie, as he’d fallen for your charms too but, why specifically you? Why not the countless other girls she’s passed up under the guise of ‘not being for a relationship?’

His throat dries up as he, himself, comes to a bridge,

Was she truly not ready for a girlfriend, or was she just getting ready for his?

He stands defeated as he watches the one girl he’s ever liked have more of a connection with his bestfriend than he ever did with her; to add more salt to the wound, he finally notices,

she’s aware of his presence.

She doesn’t acknowledge it, simply letting you pet her like a docile pet while her relatively warm gaze burns into him, a telltale sign she’s trying to get the message across that she’s won whatever this was.

For sure, Ellie Williams was a bad person.

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬.

🎀 in the late night of june, you sit beneath a mystic moon. well, rather, you're in a bar, all by your lonesome, pondering on what to order. in your daze, you didn't even see the strange man watching you.

yandere oc! x fem! reader

Despite being late June, the weather could not seem to make up its mind on how it was going to go. For the past few days, the sky kept going back and forth between being a beautiful blue to then suddenly changing to a gloomy grey, the air growing heavy with the threat of a downpour on any unsuspecting pedestrian.

You suppose you were no better than the weather, you figured. Toying with the the menu between your fingers, you noticed how it was filled to the brim with various drinks ranging from alcoholic to non alcoholic, hot or cold drinks, all of which was printed out on a pristine piece of jet black paper.

What to drink , what to drink?

The stress of exams was too much to bear, perhaps you could blame that for being so damn indecisive.

You let out a shiver as you noticed the waitresses cranking up the air conditioning to an insane degree. What was she trying to do, freeze you to death?! How inconsiderate...!

With a huff, you focused your attention back on the menu and came to the rational realization that perhaps it was for the best to get a simple fruit juice. But which kind? The offer was diverse and each flavor would surely satisfy your aching throat.

Just as you were getting ready to call out the waitresses, she seemingly beat you to the punch as she scurried towards you, a mysterious drink in her hand. The crystal glass shimmered softly against the dimly lit bar as the woman placed the drink in front of you, along with a scrunched up piece of paper. It couldn't be a bill as you had not ordered anything yet...

Seeing the confusion swirling in your eyes, the waitresses gave you a wink, beating you once again in terms of speed.

"See that guy in the corner over there?" she asked you, her tone laced with a sort of excitement. You nod, albeit slightly dumbly.

"It's from him!" she chirps happily.

Odd. You could have sworn that seat was not occupied just a few moments ago.

Taking the piece of paper in your hands, you unfold it to reveal neat handwriting, each letter and syllable written gently with a basic blue ink pen. It was a string of numbers, most likely his own phone number. Raising your head towards his direction, you noticed him eyeing you up and down, a boyish grin on his face.

He seemed normal enough, you reckoned. He seemed to be around his mid 20's, average height. He wore basic blue jeans and a cozy looking black t-shirt, which had no print on it. There were little to no accessories on his person other than a string which was hanging around his neck, most likely a necklace but was hidden from your view. Another thing worth taking note of was his phone case, which had a print of the Ghostface mask from the Scream franchise.

Ah, so he was a horror fan. How neat.

Feeling a little bold, you grabbed both your drink and the note and made your way towards him, never once breaking eye contact with the mystery man. Without a word, you shimmied across from him as you placed everything on the wooden table. A strange silence hovered in the air as neither one of you spoke for those few moments, but the man was clearly amused. Something was going on inside his head and he made no attempt to hide it, his light brown eyes basically dancing with pure glee. As if to ease the tension, he lightly smacked his lips and spoke:

"So. How are you on this fine evening?"

His tone was casual, as if he had known you for years, like he was chatting with an old pal back from the good ol' days. His entire demeanor was calm, dare you say friendly even. He raised his glass to his lips, the amber liquid in it swishing away as he took a sip, his gaze still not leaving yours.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

You couldn't help but to giggle a little.

"Ah, she speaks! Such delight!"

His tone was sweet like candy, lulling you in to feel safe. It was embarrassing how there was a part of you that actually seemed to be enjoying this encounter, but how could you not?

Life was so stale sometimes, so dull. The most exciting thing that would happen were the occasional outings with friends, all of which you loved dearly but... You craved more. It was unsure what you craved exactly, what you needed to get your heart beating and pulsing, but regardless you needed some excitement.

It was good to change the pace every once in a while.

The evening went on and you came to learn that the name of the mystery man was Will, an engineer student who transferred recently. He liked horror movies, mystery novels, cars and good beer. It was easy to chat and you shared many things with Will, even going as far to express the desire to see him again.

The sentiment was very much mutual.

As closing time was due, you exited the establishment with Will, his hand playfully linked with yours as he talked your ear off all of the fake guts in horror movies. He was so fascinated with the way films handled the production of those fake body parts, gooey blood and potential inducing nightmare fuel.

You made your way down the street together, the darkness of the night sky being slightly broken by the old street lights.

"Y'know..." he trailed off. He was still smiling.

"I always wondered what it would be like to actually kill a person."

It took a few seconds for you to realize just what he exactly said. Stopping dead in your tracks you turned towards Will, a flabbergasted look on your face. You felt the hair at the back of your hair stand up as the wind picked up, the leaves around you going in every direction, a warning of what was potentially to come.

Suddenly, the sound of loud and absurd laughter came bursting out of him, you soon following suit. It was borderline manic as he held your hand in his own, but being so lost in the sweet comfort of earlier you chose to not think about his worrying statement. Most horror enthusiasts were a little quirky anyway, Will was probably like that too.

And just like that, you parted ways for the evening, both parties promising to get in touch as soon as possible.

The walk home was swift as each step made you feel like a silly schoolgirl who just had her first kiss.

It was just so refreshing, like gentle rainy dew on a hot day.

Making your way back home, you fumbled with the keys inside your bag and opened the door with lightning speed. Kicking off your shoes and tossing the purse on the bed, you grabbed your phone and the piece of paper, pondering on the thought of whether you should just save his number or not. You were clearly going to be seeing him for a while, so -

Ding!

The text message was so sudden that you almost threw your phone on the ground. One mini heart attack later, you saw that the string of numbers were the same ones from before, so you quickly opened the message.

"What's your favorite scary movie ;))"

You snorted. He was so cheesy but damn it all if it wasn't cute.

"I like Scream a lot, if that makes you happy :D"

It took him a few minutes to respond.

"Good choice. But, personally, I'd really like to make my own scary movie with you... I could make you the main star."

Oh... Well. You're not sure how to respond to that. You stop and think, only for the sudden feeling of unease to come back. You remain still and try to brainstorm a response, but Will is faster.

"What wrong baby? Did I scare you? :)"

Ah. He's really committing to the part, isn't he? The best thing to do would be to just call him out.

"Haha, very funny Will! And no, you did not scare me, I'm just a slow texter!!!!"

Perhaps it was time to call it a night. It's been a rough week and you were not in the mood for these games. Halfway as you were turning away, your phone suddenly rang. You sharply turned your head back, wondering why Will was calling you so late. Perhaps he didn't get social cues? Your discomfort should have been obvious from the get go, but you still decide to pick up. Parting your lips, you started to talk but a male voice interrupted you instead.

"This isn't Will baby. But I'll be more than happy to make you my Sidney Prescott."

All the air was knocked out of your lungs as your eyes bulged so hard out of your head, threatening to pop like cheap balloons.

He was right. That was not Will's voice. The mystery caller cackled, his voice ringing loudly in your ear, the sound almost too painful for your mind.

"Didn't think you'd actually pick up." he continued. "I kept an eye on you all night, and you didn't even see me! Now that baby, is skill! "

He sounded so proud, like a child who just got a high mark on a test, as if he didn't even see just how wrong this whole situation really was. Mustering up the courage, you spoke up:

"Where's Will?"

Silence. The other line was dead silent but the caller didn't end the line.

You really did not like where this was heading.

"And why would you care where he is?" inquired the man, his voice changing from menacing to serious. Your silence spurred him on, making him more mad.

"You're my girl, even if you don't know it yet. I won't have you sweet talkin' with other men."

You let out a shocked scoff and quickly hung up. You smacked the phone against the table as an audible smack! echoed across the room. Crossing your arms close to your chest, you sprawled across the cozy bed with worry on your mind as the heart in your chest beat like crazy, pumping and pumping sheer adrenaline.

Despite all that, you somehow managed to fall asleep.

You didn't even get to see the last text the creepy caller had sent.

"I'll make you my girl, even if it's the last thing I ever do."

That was not a threat. But rather, a promise.

[shotmrmiller]

The cool air that sweeps over your skin once you board the train feels like a gentle splash of water on a sweltering summer day. The sudden temperature change sends a shiver down your sweat-slick back, the hair on your arms standing on end in sharp relief. You press a hand to your chest, feeling the drumming of your heart against it.

You almost hadn't made it.

Everything had gone awry from the moment your alarm went off. First, you'd snoozed the clock. Half an hour later, your eyes snapped open, the horizon that'd just started to blush with the first hint of dawn giving way to a vibrant, limpid morning blue.

Shit.

You had called a cab while you were hastily getting ready, brushing your teeth, washing your face, only for it to arrive within 5 minutes. Five.

With the honking outside, you quickly threw on the first piece of clothing you found.

As you sat in the car, deliberately ignoring the driver's heated glare through the rearview mirror, you'd patted down your crinkled dress before crossing your legs, and realized—

You've got no knickers on. Double shit.

Whatever. It'll be fine. You were taking an overnight train across the country and even got yourself a private little room to sleep in. All would be well. But you had to get there first and boarding would start in 15 minutes.

Navigating through the aimless crowd of people had been excruciating. Children weaving in and out coupled with elderly folk stopping to chat up their friends with zero regard for foot traffic. Agony.

(You're fully aware that no one is at fault here but yourself.)

Almost hadn't made it but almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

Your heartbeat's still pounding in your ears as you walk down the narrow aisle, arms burning with the weight of your luggage bag and the tote slung around your shoulder. The thought of settling into your cabin and finally taking a breather propels you forward, albeit sluggishly.

The metronomic clatter of the wheels on the tracks smothers that burning sense of urgency you've felt since you woke. Weariness seeps into your bones once your cabin door comes into view. There's no other thought in your head apart from putting your stuff away and getting off your feet as you fumble for the handle.

In your fatigued haze, you hadn't noticed someone already inside. The world, once fuzzy around the edges, sharpens to cutting clarity in your shock. He's a big man. Very big. He looks like he's been carved out of oak— broad and solid. His shoulders are wide, stretching the seams of his shirt. His thick arms are draped along the backrest of the seat. The breadth of his chest— should, probably does— defies anatomy.

He's got legs like tree trunks. And they're sprawled outward, taking up a lot, if not most of the room. There's a bag resting against your seat even though the overhead space is empty. A bulky, grey jacket lays about.

You're tired, not blind. This is definitely the cabin you paid for with your measly income. But you're scared witless at the mere thought of trying to kick him out. He'll eat you. Gnaw your bones with his molars to dust for the offense.

You tug on the ends of the knot that is lodged in your throat, hoping to get some words out, but it only seems to tighten. The man's keen eyes lock onto yours, unblinking. Heavy with a weight that presses down on your back, your shoulders. Even the air itself.

The gentle click of the sliding door shutting behind you has your heart trying to crawl out of your mouth. (Possibly your arse, too, but you're not sure of anything right now, other than you're about to burst into tears because his gaze followed the motions of you shakily hoisting your bag up higher on your shoulder.)

His voice is a deep rumble— rich and resounding. You swear you could feel the air vibrate as he spoke.

"Sit down 'fore ya hurt yourself." It startles you into action, like a starter's pistol before a swim race. Quickly rising to the tips of your toes, you put your luggage bag away, giving it a couple of smacks to push it all the way back.

You mumble out a garbled 'scuse me as you traipse past his outstretched legs, carefully stepping over them, only to brush against his knee. You flinch, he doesn't.

"Sorry." Heat blooms beneath your cheeks. Embarrassing. You shove your tote into a little corner, its humble size dwarfed by his frame. With trembling fingers, you pull the back of your—very thin, now that you think about it— dress down, trying to compose yourself, before taking a seat.

Directly in front of him.

And he's still staring. Vaguely, you wonder if he can see your fluttering pulse beneath the delicate skin of your neck.

There's a lot of people on the train. That unbearably long line you had to stand in to board it was the proof. Yet it's unnervingly silent. Not one distant tinkle of laughter. No gentle hum of murmured conversation. Clinking of spoons against coffee cups.

Just a sharp, high-pitched whistle of the wind outside the window. Even he isn't making a sound. No rustling of clothes, no shifting around. Motionless.

You nervously grab at the skirt of your dress, clammy fingers curling, fabric bunching within your tightened fist, white staining your knuckles. The hem of your dress is frayed, like your nerves at this moment.

Oh no.

You flash your eyes to the guy's face but he's no longer paying attention to you. He's now looking straight at the apex of your legs. Your very naked apex. Amusement dances across his rugged features. His ash-blonde eyebrows quirking slightly, corner of his thin-lipped mouth curling.

The room tilts slightly, a dizzying sensation that leaves you momentarily unbalanced. Mortification pricks at your nerves, gathers in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill. An ear-grating squeak escapes past your clenched teeth as you jerkily tug down the skirt, the hem settling against your shins.

A tiny hiccup punctuates the moment.

His mud-caked boot taps the outside of your foot, demanding your attention. "Now, now. Nothin' to be ashamed of, birdy," he grunts. Then, with casual ease, he slides it in between yours, this time nudging the inside of them.

A recognizable gesture.

Open up.

(there's no getting a staff member to remove him. they're all half his size. and can he at least shut the blinds on the window????)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You sigh and back up through the file explorer. Come on. Your frustration bubbles up until you feel sweat on your scalp. You squint at the screen, searching for what you need. You blow out through your lips and reach for your mug. The white one with the small agency’s logo on it. 

“Mr. Brenner,” you pivot your chair as you put your cup down, “I can’t find the Dubeau files. I was almost finished--” 

“Dubeau? Never heard of ‘em,” he doesn’t look away from his screen. You tense and nod. 

“Of course, sir, I must be misremembering.” 

You don’t argue. Not out loud. Just like always, you roll over and take it all. You hold it all in. When you lost something, you resign yourself to it. When you miss the train, you sit down and wait for the next, and when you’re told something is a certain way, it must be. And if not, you’ rather wait for the truth to leak through then speak up and make yourself the fool. 

You click around the files. That means you can move on. There’s a backlog of accounts to get through as it is. Ever since Wallace quit, you’ve been doing his work too. It was so unexpected. Strange how abrupt that was. He left his jacket behind but he still hasn’t come to get it. Well, once you find a better firm, you’re out the door just as fast. 

“Carson. It needs to be done,” Brenner says as he clicks his mouse lazily. 

You glance over. You can see the reflection of his screen in the glass of his framed accountant certification on the wall. It doesn’t look like a spread sheet. The colours move and you try not to think about what they resemble. 

“Got it, sir.” 

“What about Williams?” Geraldine suggests. 

Brenner clucks, “delete that. Thought I already did.” 

The tapping of keys continues. Geraldine is old and slow. Her work is reliable but not timely, and Brenner, the senior accountant, tends to do better at sweet talking clients than the paperwork. 

You focus on the Carson file. Like many of the clients, it’s a mess. Assets all over. Photos of wrinkled documents and few of loose cash on indeterminate surfaces. You don’t ask questions. You just figure it out. The place isn’t your first choice but with zero experience, it’s the only way you’ll have any. It’s a pathway to a better destination. 

The office is stagnant but for the clacking of keyboards and clicking of mice. Only Brenner’s heavy huffs and Geraldine’s incessant sniffling interrupt. You lean on your elbow as you compare your two monitors and input values. 

The front door opens and Geraldine stands. She deals with the walk-ins. She enjoys chatting with them. Sometimes too much. You suspect she doesn’t get much conversation with her two cats. 

“Oh, hello, aren’t you a strapping young man. My, oh, I know you,” she chimes, “Mr. Rogers. Yes, I recall.” 

The man sighs in response. You glance over as Mr. Brenner stands so quickly that his chair rolls back into the wall. He clears his throat and hurries around his desk. You haven’t seen him react like that for anyone. 

You stare at the man across from Geraldine. He’s tall and well-dressed. He wears a pinstripe suit with a pressed white collared-shirt, a sleek grey tie down his chest. Despite his tailored attire, his hair is overgrown, his beard too. There’s a permanent stitch in his forehead. 

Rogers... it sounds familiar. 

“Sir,” Brenner extends his hand as he approaches the other man, “how are ya? What can I do for ya today?” 

The other man looks at him dully and ignores his handshake. He sniffs and peers around at the beige walls. The place is enough to drive anyone mad. 

“I need an accountant.” 

“I didn’t know you were looking? Brian--” 

“Shut up about Brian,” the man snarls. “I’m not hear to chat.” 

“Well, I can take care of it--” 

“You won’t,” Rogers insists. “The things you click on, I don’t need that risk. It’s off the books. No digital trail.” 

“Right,” Brenner agrees, “Wallace is... gone--” 

“Didn’t ask,” Rogers turns away from him and looks past the empty desk to you, “her. Come on.” 

He snaps then curls his fingers. Brenner bounces on his heels anxiously, “um, right, but Geraldine is more experienced--” 

“She’s wearing orthotics. I need someone who can run around,” the man snaps.  

“Yes, sir, of course, sir. I don’t mean to overstep,” Pete shows his palms. “Get your bag, sweetie. You’re gonna help Mr. Rogers for the day.” 

“More than a day,” he says as he checks his watch. 

“As long as you need,” Brenner agrees. 

You save the spreadsheet and slowly close down the Excel sheet. You wheel back in your chair, unsure, and reach beneath for the leather briefcase you splurged on when you got the job. When you still thought it was a professional office. 

“I heard about the engagement,” Brenner lowers his voice but the place is too small not to hear, “Sorry, buddy, that’s tough--” 

“I didn’t ask what you think,” Rogers bristles. 

You peer over again and find him staring. Impatiently. 

“Right, right, was just saying--” 

“And I’m not your buddy,” he growls. 

“Of course, sir,” Brenner preens. “I’m digging the new look. Growing out the hair. Very in vogue--” 

“Enough,” he waves past Brenner to you. “Let’s go. Boss is waiting.” 

You get up and snap the clasp on the plum briefcase as you shuffle in your kitten heels. You approach the man as you grip the handle and offer your other hand formally. “Hi, sir,” you introduce yourself. “What can I help with?” 

“We’ll get to it. For now, stay close,” he looks at his watch again. 

“Glad to be of service, sir,” Pete says. “I’ll waive the invoice--” 

He’s once more ignored as Rogers spins and marches for the door. Tension curdles in his wake and you look around. Brenner gives you a toothy cringe and shoos you, “don’t keep him waiting and for god sakes, smile.” 

You raise your brows as Geraldine returns to her desk. She sits stiffly as she rubs her hip and offers a sheepish look, “good luck, dearie.” 

Their nervous demeanour fills you with dread. Who exactly is this Mr. Rogers and why are they all so afraid of him? You can only be sure that you should be too. 

[too-deviant]

pick me up?

with…LUKE CASTELLAN!

contains…frat boy!luke, fwb!luke, boxer!luke, 18+ CONTENT, oral (f receiving), mildly public sex, dry humping

The rarity of receiving a text from Luke before midnight was not lost on you.

And yet, when your phone vibrated on your desk at eight-thirty, you picked it up and swiped carefully into the chat like it was the norm. You only recognised the oddity of the situation when Luke’s text didn’t read anything along the lines of u up? or come over?

can u come pick me up? 

trav drove me here but left like an hour ago and i have no ride

He dropped his location the moment your read receipt appeared on his screen, and you recognised the boxing gym a few blocks south of your apartment shining at you from under that damn red pin. You asked him why, but continued to slide your uggs on nonetheless, ignoring your roommate’s questioning gaze with a wave of your hand and a, “Be back later.”

You only began to question your actions when you reached the first red light. In the weeks you had known each-other, you and Luke communicated solely after the witching hour – when the only light came from his car and the only sound came from deep in the back of your throat. There was the occasional drunken makeout at any of his frat parties, but never had he asked you for a ride. 

Although, you would give it to him; his car wasn’t in the lot when you pulled up. You barely made out his silhouette when your headlights flooded the front window, and he was gone when you turned your car off. You weren’t expecting him to respond to your i’m outside – you never responded to his. But after five minutes of waiting, you huffed a sigh and relented to his clear intentions. 

The inside of the gym was as expected – cold from the AC, but warm from the residual body warmth. A ring in the middle of the space, several punching bags and other equipment you couldn’t name. Footfalls pulled you from your stupor, and your eyes drifted to where Luke’s familiar figure was exiting the locker room a few feet to your left. 

His compression shirt hugged him in all the right places – the bulging of his biceps and outline of his abs a refreshing change from the loose hoodies and baggy team jerseys he usually wore whenever you met, leaving everything to your imagination. He was in his usual grey sweats, and you applauded the consistency, always down to admire the way they hung low on his hips – the urge to tuck your fingers under the band was prominent, but you held back in favour of watching him pull off his gloves and flex his fingers in such a way that must’ve been on purpose. 

“You needed a ride?” While the circumstances of your meetup were out of the ordinary, you kept to the usual sarcastic comment. More often than not did you mutter uber for one? whenever you climbed into his car – and just like clockwork, Luke rolled his eyes and smirked at you through his bottom lashes. You weren’t stupid, and he was well aware. 

“Totally.” Was his muttered response.

“None of the other fifty guys you live with were available?” 

His hands wrapped comfortably around your hips, pulling you ever-so closer, “None of the guys I live with have lips like yours.”

“They don’t?” You pouted, hands wrapping around his shoulders and sliding up his neck, “But I swear me and Connor use the same lipgloss.”

He chuckled lowly, arms tightening around you until he could lift you up and spin you around, sitting you down on an empty table you assumed was for gloves and tape. A gasp ripped through you at the sudden movement, fingers tightening around him for balance – Luke simply sidled between your thighs and rested his hands gently on top of them. 

He kissed you, deep and slow, and you allowed yourself to get lost in it – so lost that you barely registered it when he went for the waistband of your shorts. You just used his shoulders as leverage, mouth still on his, and let him slide them under you and discard them on the ground. 

He pulled away from you, knees already buckling and mouth latching on to your shirt as he went further down, “Not those ones.”

Your fingers tangled perfectly in his curls, coiling through their humid wisps and tightening when he pushed your underwear aside and licked a stripe from deep below your vulva all the way up to your clit, latching around it and doing that thing he always said he’d do if you were good enough. Your mewl was amplified by the echo of the empty space, and the table rocked only briefly before Luke’s hand was on your stomach and pushing you to a laid back position. 

The way he suckled at you, dipping his tongue into you for a brief moment only to come back out and swallow around you. Your legs found their way around his head and he groaned deep into your cunt, dropping fully onto his knees and yanking you slightly with him. You gripped the edge of the table out of instinct, but your fingers found their way back to his hair in no time, the peak of your orgasm creeping up on you slowly.

You barely murmured a, “Oh – Luke, I’m gonna…” Before your ankles locked around him and you were shoving him hard into you. He took it like a champ, letting you ride it out and slide yourself across his face and nose until you couldn’t anymore, hips stuttering and dropping back onto the table. 

You caught your breath, and he stood. Luke always did this; watched you. You felt weird about it at first, but soon enough got used to his gaze keeping you warm while the heat between your legs settled and the huffs of air escaped your parted lips. You met his eyes and held out your hands, allowing him to pull you up into a seated position. 

“Been thinking about you all day, didn’t have time to go home and shower.” He pushed your hair away from your face, unsticking it from your forehead, “Plus I really did need a ride.”

It felt intimate – too intimate for a guy who’s text chain in your phone was the same two word question and one word response on repeat every couple of nights. So you avoided his gaze, suddenly heavy, and pulled him even closer, grinding your wet crotch against the tent in his pants and making it impossible for him to not take you right then and there.

"God -- damn." He grunted into your neck, face dropping. His hands settled around your back, venturing up your shirt and smoothing the planes of your spine. He brought them around to grope your tits, and you hummed in satisfaction at the feeling.

Your hips started to grind, and your own hands flattened on his ass so you could push him into you at a languid pace. Your wet rubbed all over him, staining the grey of his sweats dark, but he didn't seem to mind and took over his own movements.

The feeling was euphoric, and the overstimulation had you biting down on his shoulder, but Luke was moving fast t and uncoordinated, chasing his own high with a series of moans into your mouth once he found his way back to it. His hands stayed on your breasts, squeezing hard and rolling your nipples between his fingers -- you were on the cusp of your second orgasm when you felt the warmth of his cum spread through his pants. A few stuttered thrusts and he was a panting dog in your shoulder, hands dropping to the table beneath you.

"Your place or mine?"

divider by @cafekitsune :)

[samandcolbyownme]

Maybe a little one shot where Chris hears y/n how she tries to do it herself but can't really manage it and Chris comes to her aid.🤭

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, swearing, masterbation, slight sexting, simple pet names (baby, babe, etc.), fingering, unprotected sex, hair pulling, kissing, biting, scratching, general filth

Word Count: 1.5k | unedited

Smut right under the cut. Enjoy.

══════════════════

A frustrated groan leaves your lips as you pull your hand from out under the blanket.

You’ve been trying to get off so you can go to sleep, but nothing seems to work.

Not your fingers, not your favorite vibrator, not even thinking of Chris - who was in the room right next to yours.

You rolled over, letting out a sigh as you close your eyes for the fifth time, praying you’ll just fall asleep. But twenty minutes later, you decide to give it another go.

You parted your legs, eyes still closed as you imagine Chris’ hand sliding down your body in place of your own. You bite down on your lip as your fingers begin to circle your clit.

You let out a quiet moan as the pleasure is.. doable, for now. Keeping your pace, you imagine Chris laying behind you, telling you just how good of a job you’re doing.

Small whines and whimpers leave your lips as the pace of your circles pick up, but the pleasure quickly drops off when your thoughts are invaded by the stress you cannot seem to get away from.

You turn your head, stopping all movements and you let out a loud groan into your pillow. A few seconds later, your phone goes off and you lift your head.

You reach over, pulling your phone over to you, only to have your heart drop when you see a text from Chris.

Are you good?

You roll onto your back, feeling a red heat lying on your cheeks as you hope he didn’t hear you throwing a fit over not being able to orgasm. You tap the screen, chewing on your lip as you hit send.

Debatable, but I’ll be fine.

You watch as the chat bubbles pop up and disappear right before his text comes through.

Thought I heard you yell or something

“Fuck.” You whisper quietly, humming lowly as you debate on what to do. As you’re thinking, another text from Chris comes through.

I know you’re schedule is busy as hell, but if you ever need to talk or anything I’m here for you y/n

You take a deep breath, biting down on your lip as you type out your message.

Throughout the years you’ve been friends with the Sturniolo’s, you and Chris have taken a liking to each other.

There’s tension. Lots of it, too.

I actually could use a helping hand, if you’re up for it at this hour..

Instant reply.

Anything what’s up ma?

You were weak, instantly turned on. You loved it when Chris called you that. It got to be such a normal thing that no one bats an eye when he lets it slip in public.

I mean this in the most respectful way possible

But I really want you to fuck me

You felt excited and nervous all at once. Your heart stars to beat faster as you watch the little bubbles bounce up and down, “Shit. What did I just-“

Chris’ text shuts you up instantly.

You know where I’m at. Let me fuck the stress right out of you.

You were up and out of bed, making your way from your room to right next door. You slowly opened the door, your breath catching in your throat as you see him sitting in his gaming chair.

Grey hood up with his headphones resting overtop. You close the door, making sure to lock it, and when you look up, Chris’ eyes are on you.

“Hey.” You smirk walking over to him. He sets his headphones on the desk and turns towards you, “Hey.”

His hands slide over your waist as you straddle him, “Couldn’t get off on my own.”

He chuckles, “I can help with that.”

He slides his hand up, holding the side of your neck as you lean in, connecting your lips with his, and you needed him that instant.

You sit back, crossing your arms to lift your shirt up in one swoop. Chris ogles your body, shaking his head as he leans forward to kiss down your neck.

He gets up, you still on him, and takes you over to his bed. He tosses you down before he takes his hoodie off, revealing his bare torso.

He smiles slightly as he hovers his body over yours, and you’re quick to wrap your arms and legs around him.

“You’re so pretty.” He mumbles, “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You moan at his words, gasping as you feel his clothed cock press against your panty covered center, “C-Chris.”

“I know, baby.” He whispers as he sits up, your legs falling to the bed. You shimmy out of your panties and lay back down, eyes never leaving his.

He pushes his sweats down, followed by his boxers and you take a deep breath as you speak your legs. He glances down and back up, leaning into kiss you as his hand makes it way up your inner thigh. He stops at your clit, fingers circling slowly, “Is this what you were doing?”

You gasp, nodding your head, “So much better when you do it.” You lay a hand on his chest, moaning out as he slips two fingers into you, “Way fucking better.”

Chris kisses down your neck and over your collarbones as his fingers slowly work in and out of you.

Your hips buck, needing more as you whine, “Please.”

“What do you want, mama?” Chris kisses your temple, “Tell me what you want.”

Your eyes roll back, closing fully as you moan out.

“Shh, baby. Gotta stay quiet.” His forehead rests against your head as he adds another finger, getting you to gasp out.

You slide your hand to his shoulder, nails digging in as your breathing grows more rapid, “I-I, fuck.. Chris.”

“Cum for me, mama.”

Your back lifts from the bed, teeth sinking into your lower lip as a way to muffle your moans. Your nails drag down his arm, creating red lines as he groans, “That’s it.”

He guides you through your high, leaning in more to kiss you as his fingers pull out. He moves to settle his hips between your thighs and he looks up at you, “You sure?”

“I love you. Of course I do.”

He smiles, trying to contain his giddiness about hearing those words leave your lips, “I-I love you, too.”

You pull him in, both of you swallowing each other’s moans as he slips his cock into you. Your legs lock around his waist and his one hand grips the sheets by your head, “Feels so fucking good, ma.”

His thrusts are slow at first, taking in how you feel wrapped around him for the very first time.

But they quickly grow faster with your pleads for more, “H-Harder.. please.” You gasp out, arching your back as his hand slides up to cup your throat.

His thumb runs along your jaw, moaning lowly as he obliges to your request. His thrusts grow harder, earning whimpers and moans from your lips as your second orgasm builds up.

You slide your hand up into his hair, tugging as you clench around him, “S-so close..” you moan out, “Don’t stop, dontstop.”

He buries his face into your neck, moaning loudly which only helps coarse you further to the edge, “Yesyesyes.”

Your chest presses against his as his hand slides down your body, his arm hooking under your leg to hold it up.

His thrusts become punishing as he is now chasing his own high.

“Doing so good for me.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Fuck ma, gonna make me cum.” He moans lowly, thrusts becoming sloppy before he pulls out.

You kiss him deep as you feel his cum spill onto your waist, swallowing his groans.

He rolls off to lay next to you, giving you a quick kiss to your cheek, “Stay right here.” You nod, staring up at the ceiling with a smile, you were happy that you had finally got what you wanted for so long.

“Here, babe.” Chris’s walks over with a towel and wipes off your waist. He glances up at you and you look at him, “What?”

He shrugs, shaking his head, “Nothin’ I just..” he tosses the towel and crawls back into bed, “Just glad that you’re finally here.”

You roll over, laying your head on his chest and he kisses your head, “Took you long enough though.”

You scoff and look up at him with a smirk. He lays his finger under your chin and presses his lips to yours, “I’m joking, baby. Go to sleep.”

“So bossy.” You joke and Chris sighs, “You haven’t seen anything yet, ma.”

——

Okay I may have gagged myself with this one. Let me know whatcha think! I love you all so much! Thank you for reading, and I will see you all in the next! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[luvrodite]

ᯓ★ TWO. OCTOBER 5 | COCKWARMING

SIT STILL, LOOK PRETTY [1.3k]

jason doesn’t know what’s come over you, but he’s going to finish this chapter. then, if you’re good, he’ll make you cum.

content warnings. f!reader, established relationship, dominant jason. more tags to come

ⓘ minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

<< previous installment | kinktober masterlist

The sounds of the street below float in through an open window when you enter your apartment, a cacophony of engines and raised voices, neighbours chatting over their balconies and exchanging stories. You can make out the familiar burr of your upstairs neighbour, grumbling about delays on the subway to someone on the phone. Downstairs, you can hear the raucous laughter of apartment 407's twins, squeals for the other to slow down as they presumably chase each other.

The most lovely of it all, you find a handsome man sitting on your couch.

A rare break in the clouds, the afternoon sun cuts in through the window and casts him in gold, folding him in swathes of amber as he turns the page of the book in his hand.

At the sound of the door, he lifts his eyes, azure pinning you in place. They crease around the corners, immeasurably fond. A rosy mouth parts to form the shape of your name, curling into a sweet smile.

Lovesick and caught in his thrall, you totter forward. The aches of the day wash away under his stare, tender feet closing the distance until you're sitting by his feet. Beautiful boy, sunlit and warm, he gazes down at you through lowered lids.

"Hi," you whisper, wary of shattering the delicate film that encloses around the both of you, the world cut off beyond this spot.

"Hi, sweetheart. Good day?"

It's difficult to concentrate. The shirt he's wearing distracts you, simple black cotton that stretches over a broad chest, the gentle scent of laundry detergent still clinging to it. His thighs remain spread on the couch, grey sweats that offer little coverage of his softened length, the shadow of it against his thigh making you squirm.

"You look really good," you blurt out, after a moment and he huffs out a laugh through his nose, pretty eyes shining down at you over the top of his book.

"It's one of those days, hm?" he muses teasingly but doesn't offer much beyond that, returning to the pages in front of him. You make a noise in your throat, pushing yourself upwards, hands on his knees until you're leaned over the book to command his attention.

"Do something about it, then," you implore, trying to keep yourself steady, demanding. It's difficult when a shiver rolls down your spine at the brush of his nose against yours. You're putty in his hands and when he grins, teeth flashing, you know he knows it, too.

"You can't wait for me to finish this chapter?" he asks. "C'mon, be good for me, just wait a bit, baby."

"I want you now." You pout at him, pushing forward to press your lips against the corner of his mouth, ghosting a kiss over his jaw. Desire pools between your legs, warm, dizzying. You squeeze your thighs together in an effort to relieve your ache but it's not nearly enough.

A weight rests against the back of your neck, his hand warm against your skin.

"So needy," he laughs, lightly. His breath skitters over your cheek and you can smell mint on it. "I'll make a deal with you."

You hum, eyes closing to press a kiss to his cheek. I'm listening. He lets out another huff, then and you feel him echo your movement, lips pressing against your jaw gently.

"I'll make you cum, but only after I've finished this chapter. You'll keep me warm until then. That sound alright? I'll take care of you, but only if you're good for me."

You open your eyes, blinking at Jason. He waits for an answer, a placid expression on his face.

"Hm?"

"Okay," you murmur, pushing yourself up. He grins, leaning forward to capture your mouth in his.

You don't bother taking your clothes off, only kicking the pants you'd worn off before climbing astride him. Jason pushes himself further into the couch, adjusting to tug the waistband of his sweats down. Both hands still occupied, book in one, the other against your back, he nods to you in silent instruction.

With a grin, you take him into your hand. He's half hard, the head of him flushed and bright, a bead of pre-cum smearing under your palm as you work him to full mast. With your other hand, you touch yourself, gently working yourself open to prepare for it.

He hisses your name, breath catching when you guide him to your entrance, tugging your underwear to the side. You chance a look up at him, finding him flushed, hues of pink sweeping over his face as he tries to focus on his book. Biting back a grin, you lower yourself around him.

The slight sting isn't unexpected. Your harried preparation hadn't been enough to properly soften you for the thickness of him. But you let out a quiet moan anyway, head emptying at the stretch, the aching fullness of him inside you.

"Be good," Jason whispers in reminder, eyes on the pages. You hum.

The sun is warm against your bare thighs and once he's seated fully, you lean against his chest.

"Missed you, today," you mumble. His hand smooths a path up and down your back, gentle caresses that lull you into stillness.

"Yeah? I missed you too."

It's easier than you thought it would be, to settle into the cradle of his arms quietly. Your need quiets to a low simmer, sitting beneath your skin, second to the contentment of your closeness. He continues to rub your back, squeezing your hip in praise.

The soft breaths he lets out keep you company, the occasional whisper of you're being so good sinking into your skin like a balm after your long day. All the while, he turns the pages.

The minutes pass in a slow crawl, falling one by one like dandelion seeds. The feeling of Jason, thick, and warm, swims in and out of focus, never fully forgotten. You hear his breath catch when you squeeze around him, the fingers at your back pressing into your skin in gentle cautioning. Absentmindedly, the thought that you ought to have put a towel down flits through your mind.

It's an eternity later, that he sets the book aside and turns to you. Blown pupils and ragged breathing belie his composure, hunger etched in the lines of his face, lips parting, wanting.

"Finished?" you breathe out and he tips his head, a hum muffled as he captures your mouth with his. He kisses you deeply, tongue sliding against yours, slow, but you sense an edge to his movements, a barely restrained need thrumming beneath his veins.

"C'mere, baby," he says softly. "Let me take care of you."

Sensitive and keyed up, you inhale sharply when he rolls his hips beneath you. The length of him drags deliciously against all your sensitive, soft spots, drawing forward a stream of moans. Your orgasm creeps up on you with little warning, your softened muscles surrendering easily to the wet strokes of your lover's cock.

He brings his fingers to your clit, roughened hands circling the button with gentle strokes and you tip over the edge, seizing around him. Jason chokes out a breath at the feel of you and you slump forward, shuddering into the soft material of his shirt.

"You okay?" he whispers, a little laugh in his voice.

"I think I just blacked out," you admit, dazed.

"Don't tell me that," he snorts. You press your cheek against his shoulder, winding your arms around his neck. "You're going to give me a complex."

"Deserved." He nips at your cheek at that and you giggle. A kiss is pressed to your shoulder, before he leans back against the couch, the two of you counting your breaths for a moment longer before you shift atop him, squirming.

"Stop that," he warns, eyes closed. "Unless you want to give me another."

At your silence, he opens a tourmaline eye.

You meet him with a hopeful gaze and his expression slackens in surprise, before he shakes his head. A smile curling the corners of his mouth, he bands an arm around you and stands.

"Come on, then. I can't leave my girl wanting."

love a short fic from infinity to infinity!!! easy breezy slightly lovesick fic u r my favourite ever!!! hoping kinktober is treating u freaks (affectionate) well!! this is the second installment of this month's fics and has a shorter gap between the last than the upcoming ones, which will all be released on saturdays!

i had a reason for this, but i can't remember at the moment (i think it's because i wanted to post the first fic on october 1st but posting them seven days apart would land all of them on weekdays so i've sped it up a little to get this to you guys on the weekend! i hope you enjoyed this baby fic!!

[yourfriendowlbear]

Boundaries

Astarion x gn!reader

Summary: A stranger approaches Astarion in your favorite tavern

Genre: slice of life, little bit of angst, mostly fluff

The tavern is cozy. Loud and lively and warm. There’s a fire in the fireplace. The bartender keeps the alcohol flowing plentifully. And you’re seated at your favorite table–in the corner, against the wall but still close enough to the action to enjoy the tavern atmosphere–with your favorite cold-blooded company.

Astarion has dragged his chair around to your side of the table, and he’s sitting close enough that you can feel the chill from his skin.

You’re comfortable, a drink in-hand as you both watch the tavern’s small stage. There’s a musical group clustered together–a fiddle player, a flutist, a man with a hand drum, and a woman playing a horn–and there are people dancing just in front. 

Overall it’s joyous and raucous and fun, and though you’d originally had to practically bribe Astarion to come with you tonight, you can tell he’s enjoying himself all the same.

You both cheer when the band ends a song, and when they take a small break to chat with the crowd around the stage, Astarion leans back to say something to you.

But you never get to hear what he has to say, because at that exact moment, a man appears in front of you both. He’s handsome–strong jaw, piercing eyes, youthful energy–and his smile, though enticing, is predatory. A cat who has sighted a dove.

The man sizes you up briefly before turning his attention to Astarion. You can tell that the vampire knows what’s coming based on the way he tenses up. The stranger either doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care, because he continues on without a care.

His opening line makes you roll your eyes. It’s cheesy and basic (“I saw you from across the room and I just had to come over and say hello.”) and he looks proud of himself when Astarion laughs and says “Oh, how positively quaint.” Poor sod can’t even tell when he’s being made fun of.

He’s shockingly persistent, asking questions, asking if he can buy Astarion a drink. For the most part, you’re sitting there, both offended because hello you’re right there and amused by Astarion’s polite but increasingly snarky responses.  

Around the third time the man asks to buy Astarion a drink, things start to get significantly less polite. And when the band starts up again and the man asks Astarion to dance, the vampire practically growls out “No. Thank you, darling, but I’m much more comfortable here.”

As he’s saying it, Astarion shifts slightly closer to you, as if he’s trying to get physically away from the stranger. You can tell he’s annoyed from how tense his jaw is.

“Oh, come on. Have a little fun.” The stranger’s persistence has finally pushed you to your limit and you snap “Gods above, he said no. Take a hint and fuck off.”

The stranger scowls, but ultimately, he does leave, and you follow him with his eyes as he weaves through the crowd and out the door of the tavern.

After a moment, Astarion stands, moving his chair back to the other side of the table. “I can handle myself, you know.” His voice is soft, but you can hear the hurt in it. “I know you think I’m just some pitiable creature that can’t set his own boundaries, but I assure you, I can manage on my own.”

You frown. Of course, you don’t think that. And of course, you know he can handle himself. You were trying to help. But when you go to say that, he shoots you a firm glare, and your words die in your throat. Instead, you simply say “It won’t happen again.”

You leave shortly after, the band no longer holds your attention, and you want to give Astarion some space. So you head out into the night.

Bloomridge is the nicest neighborhood in the Lower City. The City had gifted you the house after everything, and while at first, you’d chafed at the idea of living in the quiet, sweet, more affluent part of the city. But you’d both grown to love it. The view over Grey Harbor is unparalleled, and it’s shockingly nice to have somewhere quiet to settle down between adventures.

Your feet have carried you home, but you don’t really want to go in yet–the night is covered in a beautiful, light fog, and there’s a lovely breeze coming in off the harbor–so you sit on the front steps and lean your back against the door.

It’s only a few minutes later that you see Astarion picking his way back up the stairs along the side of the city wall. He pauses in front of you, and you can see the pain in his crimson eyes before he sighs and sits beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. 

Beside you, Astarion stiffens and inhales sharply. “Why are you sorry?”

“You’re right. I should have let you handle it. You’re more than capable.”

“I…” He deflates a little, and a confused frown creases his forehead. “I appreciate that you stepped in. Sometimes… sometimes it’s still hard to…”

He trails off, but you know what he means. Sometimes it’s still hard for him to enforce his boundaries. He tries, but 200 years of Cazador’s reign of terror don’t go away in a year. It can be difficult to walk the line between being firm and being outright rude (and as snarky as Astarion can be, he doesn’t always want to be rude).

These things take time.

You reach out and squeeze his hand, wordlessly telling him that it’s okay, that you get it, that he’s done nothing wrong. You’ll work on his boundary enforcement together. You have a lifetime together to do it.

[cherubfae]

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔢 || {𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯}

Alastor never put much faith in things like fate, no matter how much the red string tied around his left ring finger seemed to say otherwise. It hadn't glowed for him like it had for many others. Would it ever start? Perhaps his soulmate died long ago, that would be just his luck.

tags: gn!afab!fallen angel!reader, human to demon Alastor, blood/gore, mentions of death/killing, soulmate au, one shot

Alastor loathed the idea of soulmates. Someone perfectly aligned for every being on earth. A silly little thing to give one false hope. There were many out there who drove themselves mad, staring at the red rope tied in a neat little bow around their left ring finger, the invisible end of it somewhere in the ether. Hoping and praying that it would emit a bright glow one day and tug them towards their person.

For thirty years, Alastor's string never glowed a single time. He wished it didn't dishearten him at times, absentmindedly stroking at the soft cord. His invisible leash tying him to someone else. Perhaps his person was dead. A depressing thought. But his cord remained red, not the ugly monochrome grey that widows often bore. No, his person was still out there somewhere. Some place he'd never been.

Tracking was a skill Alastor took pride in. It went hand-in-hand with hunting. He was skilled and knowledgeable in almost every aspect of hunting, including miserable human prey. The filthy degenerate he was attempting to bury was one of Earth's worst. The kind of man who preyed on the kindness of women and manipulated them into more depraved acts. Alastor would stand for none of it.

Bang!

A harsh popping sound reverberated loudly in Alastor's ears. His eyelids drooped closed for a second. Opening them again, he realized he was kneeling in pitch black. Blood soaked his hands and pooled the dark ground surrounding him. It was hard for him to focus. Was this his blood?

In a split second, the ground opened up beneath him. A fiery red opened to swallow him whole, and down he fell into the pits of Hell, straight into the Ring of Pride. Where all Sinners go.

Alastor was quick to make a name for himself, as the Radio Demon, one of Hell's fiercest sinners. He took great joy in broadcasting lesser demon's worthless screams all across his radio signal. It reminded him of the finer days of his life as a human. He truly enjoyed being a radio host.

And the most peculiar thing? His string would glow on occasion, yet every time he tried to find its source, the red light would dim and then extinguish entirely. It renewed in him a hope he didn't realize he had. His soulmate was alive--well, undead, perhaps, and here in Hell. He must find them.

Centuries passed, Alastor had stopped chasing the glow. A part of him feels hopeless like a dog trying to capture his own tail. Running in circles and always just out of reach. This petulant curiosity and, ugh, longing were not suited to his taste. He'd given up entirely. Maybe you wouldn't want to see him. Have you heard of him? Were you already terrified of him despite never having met yet?

Today, the buzzing static in his brain wouldn't cease. Creating an ever-growing migraine that not even his moderately chilled whiskey could provide relief. Still, the liquor provided a nice burn as it slid down his throat. He downed it in one gulp, sighing at the now empty crystal glass. Empty. Just like him.

A strange buzz tingled in his chest, a tugging. A rippling sensation that electrifies his body to surge forward. Snapping a glance down at his hand to find that the string itself now extended to the floor, leading out beneath the hatch of his radio tower-- and it's glowing a bright fuschia red.

Molting into shadow, Alastor followed it like a wolf scenting blood. Trailing it all the way to the hotel's lobby where he stops dead in his tracks. A woman with great wings folded at her back he had never met before stands before him chatting gently with Charlie. Thankfully, Lucifer was nowhere in sight, but he had a feeling you two were well-acquainted. The string pulled taught and Alastor's no longer beating heart soars at the squeak you emit. The lobby goes silent.

You turn to him with wide, almost owlish eyes. A deep flush coating your cheeks as you rather comically look from your hand to him and back to your hand. The fated rope has considerably shortened, encouraging Alastor to take an experimental step towards you; delighted when you do the same.

Alastor lifts his hand up, a motion you mirror. Your palms meet, fingers lining up against his sharp red claws. His hand greatly shadows yours. The smile you beam up at him is infectious, a soft crease in his eyelids as he returns the gesture with a relaxed gaze. No wonder he couldn't find you. You were angelic-born.

"Hello." You breathe softly. A gentle whisper that makes his mind hum a low tune, gentle static echoing the room, and his smile increased.

Alastor links your fingers together. "Hello, my dear. It's lovely to finally meet you."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[diejager]

Is there a Milf reader who have to take care of task 141 when they ask for a night stay? >:)) imagine they are your husband friends. (Your husband couldn’t knock you out so they help)

Affair Cw: implied cheating, voice kink, polygamy, creampie, rough sex, soft sex, fluff, fivesome/gangbang, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.5k

Your husband, sweet Tom, had friends over, drinking and laughing echoing from the kitchen, loud and boisterous sounds filled with ease and pleasure. You’d never heard him so joyous with anyone else - apart from you, he was a loving man - joking and chuckling so openly, in comparison to his quiet and humble self outside of your home.

Donning a robe over your attire, you wrapped yourself warmly before walking down the stairs, padded feet muffling your steps down the smooth, wooden flooring. You gazed into the dining room, staring at Tom’s back at the end of the table, his leaner build in contrast to his friend’s broad shoulders, and the dichotomy of their various personality that shine through their eyes. Unlike your husband’s soft hazel, the four men had beautiful shades, two blues: a violent, stormy blue and a bright, electric sky, and two browns: a dark and thunderous brown, and a warm and gentle chocolate. It stirred something in your gut, a warmth that shouldn’t be there.

Your sudden appearance had surprised them, four pairs of eyes alerting Tom that you stumbled into their little chat. Tom peered over his shoulder, his pretty hazel meeting your eyes and smiled softly, coaxing you over his side with a hand. Pushed forward, you stepped out of the dark hallway and into the lighted room, hand sliding into Tom’s and seated in his lap, bringing your robe closer to your chest.

“My sweet wife,” his eyes gleamed proudly, lips dancing across yours in a delicious show of adoration, “These are my friends from the SAS, dear.”

You let your eyes rove over them, to Tom’s left was a rugged-looking man with a wild mohawk with the electric blues, a zealous smirk gracing his lips. Beside him was the man with dark eyes, a hood pulled over his head and a skull-painted mask over his face, leaving a dusty black painted around his eyes like a dark shroud over his black garments. At the head of the table was a bear-like man in a beanie that exhumed confidence and stoicism with his stormy blue-grey, a cigar hanging from the corner of his lips and arms folded against his chest. And the final man, leaner than the others, but as big as the rest with his warm skin and warmer, chocolate eyes, a well-trimmed moustache and stubble, and his cute, flag-printed cap, casting a shadow over his dazzling eyes.

They all looked at you softly, your name rolling off their tongues with a distinct accent that made your lashes flutter and throat clog, introducing themselves with a little quip of their lips, two smiles, one reckless grin and a gentle squint of his eyes. Kyle was the softest one, John the leading figure, Simon the man shrouded in mystery and Johnny the one with a Scottish drawl. You wouldn’t mind them coming by more often when the kids were asleep upstairs.

Johnny was a feral man, jumping you in bed and tearing your clothes away with two or three gestures, ripping your shirt from the seams and tearing the gusset of your panties into pieces. He left you naked and wanting, writhing under him and his teasing kisses, teeth bared and snarling. Johnny was an overzealous sort, recklessly dominant with his whole body, throwing himself at you without any baseline, going without a plan or second thought. He was a man that believed that acts dictated how he felt and that was how he could show it to you —with his body.

He kissed you roughly, all teeth and biting, nipping at your lip and jaw, sinking into the meat of your neck and shoulder as he split you open on his cock, his veined girth and wild pubes. He praised you with every breath, grasping your hips and waist with a soft grip, kneading your breasts and thigh, fat and skin squeezed between his fingers. He filled you with more than just his cock, he purged you of stress, blowing away any fear away with smothering kisses and the rough tap of his tip against your cervix.

He left you satiated, face buried in your covers and snoring away after he bathed and took care of you, feeding you snacks and water and tucking you to bed. Brushing your hair back and promising to stay until your husband came back, whispering promises to come see you again.

Kyle was an angel, setting the line between what he was willing and wasn’t to do to you, lifting you up slowly, building up a heat in your core and making you boil over the edge. He shrugged off your robes with soft, guiding hands, lowering you to your bed and going down on you as if you were the last thing he’d ever eat. He stretched you open with his tongue and fingers, pulling orgasm after orgasm until you were left a mess. His love language was praises and softness, a gentle dominance with a smile and loving caresses.

He embraced you slowly, pushing into you tender kisses, lips dancing across yours to paint a Renaissance artwork worth being hung in the Salon des Refusés. A painting of your body lost in the throes of pleasure, your face twisted and nipples perked up, toes curled and fingers gripping your bed sheets, and lips glossy as you moan out his name. Kyle put you on a pedestal, a painting rivalling the beauty of Monet’s Olympia, your skin the same softness of her image, your hair spiralled wildly and him waiting against you for your every beck and call. You were the Olympia of his world.

He filled what Johnny couldn’t, his cock leaner than the Scot’s, but he made up with his longer length, brushing against your g-spot before hitting the deepest part of your cunt, drilling a spot for himself with his rapidly growing pace and gentle hold, gripping your hair to have you arch against him, staring up at the ceiling with fluttering lashes.

Simon came third, a wall standing between you and your freedom, a force to submit to. He was a rough lover, hands calloused and gruff voice. He manhandled you into your mattress, pressing your face into your bed while he ploughed through you. He was brutal and silent, taking control of you without uttering a single word, legs open and slick rolling down your thighs. Simon had you call him Sir or Master in the bedroom, having you scream his title and voice your needs to him, cries muffled by your wet cushion.

You felt every graze of his girth, thicker than the two before him and long with heavy balls, his cock throbbing inside of you when you clenched down. He loomed over you, an inked arm forcing you to arch your back, ass raised high and face down by the harsh hold of his hand. He was a mass of fat and muscles, unmoving and rough, snapping his hips against yours while he murmured filthy things, dirty and degrading words before throwing praises, lacing them with demeaning remarks. He swore he’d prepare you for Price, that he was the last step before you’d be completely ruined for anyone else, still filling you up with his cum.

You were unconscious by the time he tucked you in bed, taking his time to clean you up while you dozed away, dreaming about the men who gave you something to dream of while they were gone. When you woke up, you realised he left you a message on your phone under an unknown number, and you added him without a second thought.

When John came over, he expected you to obey him, kneeling by his feet in nothing but your panties, gazing at him with wide and teary eyes, tensing your thighs to drive off the tingling heat between your legs. Your core burned with a wildfire that hungered for more, hole leaky and clenching around nothing while you served John, your lips wrapped around his girth, drooling down his balls. John was stern, demanding to let yourself go to him, but he was hard like Simon, gentle like Kyle and rough like Johnny.

But unlike them, he moved with precision, folding you in half as he pumped you full of himself, his cock abruptly sinking into you before he pulled out completely and snapped his hips, burying himself balls deep inside of you. With your legs hanging off his shoulders and his hand collaring your neck, you let out choked breaths, his thrusts punching the air out of your body with the pointed and precise drive of his hips. He made you come twice before he filled you up, gushing around him with a loud whine, being bred by Tom’s friend from the Air Force.

He left you debauched and ruined, his spend leaking from your cunt and swollen clit throbbing from being pinched and rolled throughout your session. He kissed you goodbye before he left your room, pulling the blanket over your dazed and naked figure.

You couldn’t look at them in the eye when they all gathered for another boy’s night at your house, seated on Tom’s lap, fiddling with your finger as his thumb drew circles on your thigh to soothe your apparently sudden nerves.

“Did you remember to thank them, dear?” He kissed the skin behind your ears, teasing you with his breathy voice.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

I Don't Care!: Heartslabyul

Savanaclaw - Octavinelle - Scarabia - Pomfiore - Ignihyde - Diasomnia

Romantic Jealousy: Based on real or imagined threats to a romantic relationship. There could be a history of infidelity or flirtations; however, this could also be solely based on insecurities. Sexual/Suspicious Jealousy: Based on fears that a partner may have cheated or be engaged in inappropriate communication.

Does he get jealous?

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle Rosehearts likes to see himself as the least insecure person on the planet. But that changes when he sees Silver getting chummy with you...

The activities for the Equestrian Club had ended for the day and Riddle Rosehearts had made plans to spend the day with you on Sage Island. Just the two of you. He wanted to go visit a new bookstore that opened and get something to eat at a nearby café. The invitation was his indirect way of requesting a date with you. You had shown up ten minutes before the Equestrian Club's activities had ended for the day. Riddle didn't mind, but he also didn't like the idea of you waiting on him! With a quick wave exchanged between the two of you, he and the others began to return the horses to the stables.

Riddle was one of the last to finish up along with Sebek. He was chatting excitedly under his breath with Vorpal about how he hoped your date would go. Until he heard you giggle. His head snapped in the direction of the sound, a curious expression graced his features.

He poked his head out of the stable, cautious of making sure he wasn't seen as his curiosity morphed into something more... Intense. Something he couldn't label; but he did not like it. You were leaning against the wooden fence, a sweet smile on your face as Silver stood beside you. The two of you were talking, it was innocent but something about the sight bothered Riddle.

Was it that Silver was taller than Riddle? The way he looked down at you with longing eyes? Was it how he subtly moved closer and closer until his shoulder just barely grazed yours as he effortlessly got you to snicker at whatever it was he said? Was it his natural princely aura? The way his arms flexed when he crossed them over his chest?

The sight in front of Riddle left him feeling as though he could remove Silver's head from his body. Easily. He ground his teeth together when Silver leaned in close. Too close. The student pulled something out of your hair with a delicate grin that left Riddle's heart sinking into his gut. He and Silver got along fine. There were no ill intentions, Riddle knew that.

So why did he wish for Silver to be struck by lightning? Riddle was frozen in place until Sebek left the stables in a hurry, snapping at Silver to move his feet so they could return to 'Lord Malleus'. Silver diverted his attention away from you, offering you a wave goodbye as Riddle casually followed suit.

Sebek greeted you with his usual loud voice and the pair took off. Riddle now stood in front of you with his head spinning with a newfound worry. This is what Cater would explain as jealousy. But he's not jealous. He had no reason to be. Silver was probably dozing off and that's why he leaned against you. The student was just waiting on Sebek. You just happened to be there to chat with. It was nothing.

When you called Riddle's name, his eyes met yours. That icy shade of grey appeared clouded as he cleared his throat. His posture straightened as he nodded towards you with a weak smile. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting... I assume Silver kept you company? What did the two of you talk about?" Riddle isn't jealous. He doesn't care about things like that.

The two of you are dating. Everyone on campus knows that.

Trey Clover

Trey Clover isn't exactly the 'jealous' type. But he starts to re-think that when Che'nya starts to hit on you.

(tw blood)

Trey's eyes flickered between your smiling face and Che'nya's wide toothy grin. You had come over to assist him in baking an assortment of tarts for an UnBirthday Party, and apparently had met a familiar face on your way into Heartslabyul. Trey and Che'nya are friends and have been friends for a long time. And remained friends despite going to different schools; but this was different.

Something about seeing Che'nya getting so close to you was starting to piss Trey off.

He was silent as Che'nya hovered around you with his ear grating laugh. His fingers would linger against your clothes as the two of you talked with Trey idly listening and offering minimal input. He slid another dozen tarts into the oven to bake and removed the last set of twelve to allow them to cool.

Then, Che'nya got you to play a game with him. He slipped off your striped tie and wrapped it around your eyes as a blindfold. Trey glanced over with a frown and before he could speak, Che'nya waved a dismissive hand at him. "It's just a game. It's fine." He assured with that same toothy grin Trey was beginning to get sick of.

The beastman used a spoon to feed you different things, getting you to guess what the item was. Strawberries, walnuts, blueberries, and chocolate. All sorts of different things would be placed on the spoon for you to guess. It was harmless and you were clearly having fun. Trey thought that maybe he was overreacting. This wasn't that big of a deal. He had mentioned in passing that the two of you were dating to Che'nya. And everyone in NRC knew.

Che'nya wanted to get close to you because he was a friend to Trey, and he was naturally a very touchy and outgoing person. It's not that serious. Trey let out an exhale as he picked up a can of evaporated milk for one of the tart fillings. He glanced back over to see Che'nya looking at you with longing eyes, and the spoon he used to feed you was now hanging between his lips.

The can burst in his palm.

The sudden sound left Che'nya startled with a loud squeak of shock. The beastman turned invisible, leaving the spoon hanging in the air until he dropped it. You lifted the tie-blindfold with wide eyes before rushing over to check on Trey who dropped the can and looked at his palm. The metal had sliced open his hand, leaving it bleeding and mixing with the thick cream. He didn't even hear your worried voice as you tugged on his arm to pull him towards the sink to rinse off the wound. "Sorry... I'm not sure what came over me." He chuckled under his breath as you continued to fuss over him.

Your voice traveled in one ear and out the other as he started to frown. He didn't usually care about stuff like this. Or at least he thought he didn't care.

Cater Diamond

Cater knows he's a jealous person. Not that you would need to know that... But those emotions start spilling out when you have a tooth rotting encounter with Kalim...

Cater pretended to scroll through his phone, his eyes flicking up to look at Kalim with an annoyed side eye. The younger student was excitedly telling you about a mini concert the Light Music Club would be having at an underground club on the island. Something Cater has already told you about previously. 

“It’s gonna be so fun! And everyone is gonna be there. Even some of the RSA kids! The cool ones of course.” He promised with a wide smile, he sat backwards in his chair, his knee would sometimes bump against yours when he would kick his legs out with excitement. He would quickly apologize before going back to talking. Lilia was glancing between the group while sucking away at a box of tomato juice. 

“You can sit backstage with us too! I’ll show you all of the cool stuff.” Kalim offered to you with a gentle wave of his hand. He began to show you different hang out spots near the club, things to do and stuff to see. It was starting to feel almost like Kalim was inviting you on a pseudo date. But that couldn’t be the case. Cater didn’t think Kalim was smart enough to pull something like that off. 

Cater hummed thoughtfully before scooting closer to you with a lazy smile on his face. “We already have plans after the concert. Sorry Kalim.” Cater explained as he opened his camera up to take a quick selfie with you. “You did?! Sorry! I didn’t mean to change anything.” He smiled sheepishly as you posed in the photo before turning to Kalim, assuring him that it was fine. You had no idea Cater had made plans for after the concert.

Seeing Kalim going back to smiling and laughing with you made Cater frown. He slid an arm around your waist as he started to decorate the edges of your picture with stickers and colorful emojis. He began to pull you closer and closer subconsciously until you were seated on his thigh with a soft gasp of surprise leaving your lips. Lilia stood with his emptied tomato juice, turning to Kalim with a smile. “Oh, I’m out of juice! Kalim,” He shook the empty box in his pale hand. “Why don’t you walk with me? I’m not a fan of going alone.” He let out a dramatic sigh, appearing forlorn as Kalim jumped out of his seat. “Oh! I’ll go with you! Don’t worry.” He beamed and headed to the door with Lilia. “We’ll be right back guys!” Kalim waved to the both of you, and you waved back before turning to face Cater.

He was pouting as he surrounded the image in orange and red hearts. You asked him what was wrong and he shook his head. “Nothing, I’m a little tired, that's all.” He tried to feign a smile but it fell quickly when he went to post the photo on MagiCam. He doesn’t care. It’s not that serious. When you leaned over and kissed his cheek he felt his heart skip in his chest. Yeah, he has no reason to be jealous.

Ace Trappola

Ace doesn't believe he's jealous. In fact, it's beneath him. Well, he thought that until Malleus started hanging around...

Ace narrowed his eyes at Malleus as he sat on the other side of you during lunch. Malleus who was never seen gracing this part of the school, yet here he was showing you how he could make flowers out of nothing but magic. 

His eyebrow twitched when Malleus would lean down to hand them to you. Some of them would explode into glitter, some would fade away into colorful petals, and one turned into a mini swarm of butterflies. Ace could do a magic trick like that too. If you asked him to show you he would with no problem. 

Ace straightened out and looked at Malleus. His stupid horns, his stupid handsome face, the way his half lidded eyes looked at you as though no one else were around. It was infuriating. Ace’s jaw was starting to clench and he suddenly met eyes with the prince of Briar Valley. Lime green and cherry red locked together with challenging stares. “That’s an easy trick. Anyone can do that.” Ace huffed and broke away from the prince, looking at you with a smirk. “I can show you something super cool. You wanna see?” He asked you, and watched your eyes light up as you gave him a nod.

Malleus watched as Ace rubbed his hands together with a wide and proud smile. When he pulled them away, a massive and colorful bouquet appeared wrapped in a bright red paper. It was full of all of your favorite flowers and even some he had never seen before. Malleus frowned from the other side of you, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ace handed you the flowers and returned his gaze to the Fae. “There’s no trick you can do that I can’t.” Ace challenged the prince, not understanding the weight his words would actually hold. He wasn’t jealous. Especially not with someone like lizard breath. Malleus frowned with his arms crossed over his chest. “I apologize Trappola. Are you offended?” His question was genuine, but to Ace it was an insult. “I wouldn’t be offended by some lame party trick.” This made Malleus’ eyebrow twitch. “So, if I preformed something more grand for the Child of Man… How would you feel?” He asked with a small flick of his wrist. In his hand was a little dancing doll that looked like you. It was starting to annoy Ace. “Don’t you have a statue to talk to?” You looked to Ace, telling him not to be rude as the two of them locked eyes with anger. 

Ace wasn’t jealous. He would never be jealous. At least, he would never admit it. 

Deuce Spade

Deuce trusted you with his entire being! He had no reason to be jealous or possessive. But feelings change... Especially after seeing you and Jack become so close.

Deuce apologized profusely when he told you he had to go to a mandatory track practice after classes ended for the day. You let him know over and over that you didn’t mind going with him and waiting for practice to end. 

He walked onto the track with you beside him, smiling and talking until he heard you gasp. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to get that close.” Jack apologized as he appeared on the other side of you. Deuce was scowling and before he could speak, you explained that you felt something soft brush against your back. Jack has a large tail, but surely he knows that. Deuce looked away with a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make a face.” He laughed away his worry as the three of you talked and both Deuce and Jack made their way to begin practice. Deuce was watching you the whole time, his eyes never leaving you after that moment. Jack seemed to be doing the same. It could be his imagination, but during stretches, during their dashes, and during their breaks, Jack’s eyes seemed to be watching you before he would break his attention elsewhere. It was starting to get dark and it was now the final break of the night before the last round of practice would resume. Deuce made his way over to you before stopping at his gym bag to pull out his track jacket to let you wear. He saw Jack standing in front of you as you stayed seated on the bench. The two of you talking and laughing. 

Seeing Jack’s tail wagging as you smiled up at him… Deuce wasn’t sure why he felt so angry. You were allowed to have friends. You were allowed to talk to other guys that weren’t him. He doesn’t care that much. 

So why did he entertain the idea of punching Jack in the face?

The beastman waved goodbye and walked off leaving you alone on the bench. There would be another hour of practice. Deuce awkwardly approached you with his jacket hanging from his hand. His arm extended as he held it out to you. “I thought you might be cold.” He commented with a small shrug and you accepted gratefully. He watched with a soft sigh as you stood and slipped it on, looking at it with a grin. He zipped his track jacket up to your chin with a weak smile. 

Maybe he is a little jealous. But he shouldn’t care about that kind of stuff. He loves you and you love him.

[sashiavi]

Okayyy so I noticed you don't write for Elliot but what about Harvey?? What type of hybrid would he be?? -👒 anon

Hello and welcome 👒 Anon tysm for coming and chatting ♡♡

I've been so stumped on what kind of Hybrid Harvey would be </3 I feel so bad cause he's so handsome and cute

(I also feel bad for Elliot my poor man I'm just not crazy for him </3)

Okay- okayokay Hear me out

Goat!Hybrid Harvey

Hes nervous, has cute curled horns accented by his subtly greying hair. He knocks them against your forehead gently and warbles a chitter in his throat to show you that he's happy.

I feel like he'd nervously snack on veggies and pickles when he's a little anxious- when he thinks no one is looking ehe

He'd have a routine to keep his horns looking nice and neat and shiny - would totally chastise BullHybrid!Alex for not looking after his own.

Man he's so cute I can't even think rn

(Smut under the cut)

GoatHybrid!Harvey who gets pushed down on the bed, hands twitching and frozen, too scared to touch and caress you even if he really wants to. His heart would pound in his ears, chest flushing pink with arousal.

GoatHybrid!Harvey who scrunches his eyes and bites his thumb when you sink down on his thick and full cock - tenses his core when you run your hand over his soft tummy, ticking at the fuzz that ran from his belly to navel.

GoatHybrid!Harvey who 'bahs' and chitters when your pretty cunt wraps around his length - face red, absolutely embarrassed at the silly noises spewing from his lips.

GoatHybrid!Harvey who covers his face with his hands and arms, throwing his head back, horns scraping the wooden bedframe behind him.

GoatHybrid!Harvey who can't help but buck his hips up into your own, chasing your cunt with his cock, kissing your cervix with his squishy tip.

GoatHybrid!Harvey who's flushed and love sick, enamoured with you bouncing so eagerly in his lap </3

(My Bf said Harvey could also be an Otter and I totally agree but idk if it works for smut *sobbing*)