#notice one going along the orange line

[chirpsythismorning]

Something something Willel twins.

[moonstruckme]

I don’t know if you currently accept requests but if you do could you write something with Spence where reader isn’t really a touchy kind of person and the team goes out for drinks, r gets drunk and is super touchy with Spencer and he is so flustered but secretly loves it?

If not don’t worry about it<3

Thank you for requesting angel <3

cw: alcohol

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 759 words

“Dave,” Prentiss says firmly, “I’ve got it.” 

“No, you got it last time.” Rossi’s trying to put his credit card down on the tab the waiter left, but Prentiss blocks him with a hand. “Let me take this one.” 

“I don’t care which of them gets it,” you say near Spencer’s ear. “Just glad it’s not me.” He laughs. 

Luckily, you’re not loud enough for anyone to hear but him. You’ve become surprisingly mumbly after a few drinks, imparting your observations and witticisms to Spencer alone, your cheek on his shoulder. Surprisingly tactile, too. 

“What are you doing?” he asks as you trace the creases spanning the insides of his fingers. He doesn’t think you’re doing anything really, drunk enough to be susceptible to whims and mindless fiddling, but Spencer likes to hear you talk. 

You make a muted humming sound. “Reading your finger lines.”

“You mean my palm lines?” 

“No, I mean your finger ones. I’m inventing a new science.” 

Spencer smiles. The tip of your nose is touching the knit of his cardigan, he wonders if it itches. You might not notice, though, with the way you’re so concentrated on his hand. Your lashes shadow your eyes like heavy clouds. 

“You know,” says Spencer, “there’s been some disagreement among biologists about palm lines. They’re called palmar flexion creases, and while it’s largely agreed upon that they form before birth to allow freedom of movement without stretching the skin on our hands, some also think that certain lines can indicate certain medical conditions.” 

“Huh.” You trace your finger down to his palm. “So, sort of like telling the future.” 

“Well, modern medical practitioners can usually identify those conditions early after birth anyway—but sure, if you want to think about it that way.” 

“That’s okay, I’m not that invested in palm line science anyway.” 

You say it placidly, even though you’re not moving away, like nothing is really all that important so long as you’re touching him. The dim, orange bulbs of the lamps in the bar cast shadows under your lashes and in the dip of your cupid’s bow.

Your finger keeps moving absently, past Spencer’s wrist until you’re nudging up his shirtsleeve. “You have really nice forearms,” you murmur. 

Spencer’s skin prickles with a blush. He takes your hand away in an effort to deter you, but you only go along with the deviation, linking your fingers through his. He glances at Garcia, relieved when she’s not looking. Just last week, she’d asked Spencer and Morgan if you secretly didn’t like her. 

I tried to give her a hug, she’d said, pouting confusedly, and she went as stiff as a board. It was the worst rejection I’ve had since high school.

Morgan had laughed. Not everyone is as warm and fuzzy as you are, babygirl. Don’t take it personal. She’s just not the touchy type.

You feel for Spencer’s other hand under the table, seeking to add it to your collection. He gives it over to avoid a fuss. 

On the other end of the table, Rossi seems to have successfully paid the bill. 

“Okay.” He gets up with a sigh, grabbing his coat. “I will see you kids tomorrow.” 

“Bright and early,” JJ agrees with joking weariness. 

As your team starts to get up, say goodbye, and (in Garcia’s case) hurriedly slurp up the remainders of their drinks, Spencer gives your fingers a tentative squeeze. 

“Time to go,” he tells you. 

You sigh heavily, warm breath permeating his cardigan. “Okay. I guess.” 

Spencer’s not entirely sure where your reluctance is coming from—if he were you, he’d be eager for his bed—but you stand without complaint, immediately looping your arm through Spencer’s and leaning comfortably against his side. 

Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Need some help there, pretty boy?” 

“That’s okay.” It’s out before Spencer can think it through, and heat comes to his face when Morgan’s lips lift with a knowing grin. 

Thankfully, Hotch spares him any elaboration. “I can take her home.” He’s watching you severely, the way a strict parent looks at their teenager before reluctantly getting them ibuprofen and a glass of water for the next morning. “She can’t drive.” 

“That’s okay,” Spencer says again. “I can drive her.” 

Hotch’s face is impassive, but Spencer can tell he’s not overly surprised. “Are you sure? I live closer than you do.” 

“I’m sure.” Again, his face heats at what he knows his answer is revealing. But Spencer looks down at you, contented and half asleep against his side, and it’s worth it. “I don’t mind.”

[reyalvr]

RUMORS!

I KNOW YOU HEARD THE RUMORS, YOU MUST GET OVER TO IT RIGHT AWAY!

synopsis ┊ ken sato- a remarkable name in the world of modern baseball- has graced japan with not only his presence, but also his skills as a key player for the yomiuri giants. from press conferences to media endorsements, it’s clear that his stardom has only intensified from his recent move. but what happens when you, his personal assistant, are left to deal with some more… serious rumors?

genre ┊ chaotic fluff, oneshot

pairing ┊ ken sato x gn-PA!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, ami is not the reporter depicted!

word count ┊ 2.2k

author’s note ┊ hiya! i recently found time to watch ultraman: rising and this fic was just writing itself in my head hehe… happy reading! (p.s. yes… the title was inspired from the new minions song)

THREE MONTHS. That was how long you had known baseball’s darling, Ken Sato. And in those three months, you had undergone every single PR nightmare you had ever conjured up in your mind prior to pursuing your career. You had worked with celebrities before- doing God knows what ‘til the waking hour on their every beck and call. But Ken, despite presenting himself as a laid back man, was an entirely new… experience. 

From the Kaiju attack at his first game under the Giants, to the continuous streak of losses throughout the first half of the season, it seemed like the Gods were against you as you did your damndest to handle the damage control on his reputation. His ego didn’t aid you either- having to spin and twist multiple incidents to get reporters and media outlets off his back. You weren’t exactly sure what it was that kept you from quitting all in all, but the longer you worked under him, the thinner your thread seemed to snap. 

You huffed an annoyed sigh into the cold air, picking up the pace as you jogged along the designated path by the bay. Your days off were scarce- not because of Ken’s schedule, but because of your own decision to be up to date with his spontaneous actions. Despite the rarity of solitude, you always managed to savor your time off. The music played at a mellow volume in your ears, the morning sun starting to warm your surroundings as you watched its rays splash hues of orange across the sky. 

Your felt your watch beep against your skin, signaling the end of your morning run. Pausing by the railing, you leaned against the old metal bars as you checked your stats. You swiped absent-mindedly on the screen of your smartwatch, scrolling once you were sure that everything was in order. There was one thing that caught your eye, though, as you noticed the red notification bubbles on your message app were continuously going up. It was odd, yes, but not odd enough to be out of the ordinary- at least in your line of work. 

Deciding not to bombard yourself this early in the morning, you opted to give everything a once-over once you made it back to your apartment. Whatever it was could wait- you were on your time and your pace. Besides, it couldn’t be that bad. Could it now?

IT DEFINITELY COULD, AND IT DEFINITELY WAS. You pushed on the gas as hard as you could, your tongue poking into your cheek as you continued to drive to Ken’s house. Of all the days that he decided to make perhaps the stupidest decision in his career, he chose today. Doing your best not to see red, you dialed his phone once more. The ringing played throughout your car as you maneuvered through the roads, and you swore for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning when you heard the tone of his voice message. 

Hey, it’s Ken. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll be more than happy to ignore it! Said his usual arrogant tone playing before the generic beep. You gripped the steering wheel harder, huffing angrily as you sharply turned a corner. 

“Kenji Sato answer your goddamn phone right now! I’m ten minutes away from your house and when I get there, I better not be greeted with your supposed secret love child!” You yelled, pushing the red button once you finished your message. 

Ah yes. The centerpoint of your current rage: Ken’s “leaked” one-on-one with a reporter about juggling baseball and his homelife. Someone on Ken’s staff had sent the article in your shared work group chat, and nearly all of his personnel had directly messaged you about the issue. It was inevitable for celebrities to get into a scandal once or twice, but one on this level would not be an easy fit to overcome. 

You don’t exactly remember what you were doing prior to receiving the messages- all you knew was that you needed to get to Ken as soon as possible. Of course it just be a misunderstanding, hell it could even be a hoax! But knowing Kenji, anything could be possible. You neared the hill of his private property, driving past the gates as the security recognized your car.

You parked haphazardly at the front of his house, your feet stomping into the gravel as you made your way to his front door. His estate had numerous smart tech installed throughout his home, so you knew that each and every one of your moves were either being recorded or observed. You crouched slightly to be in frame with the doorbell’s camera, your anger slightly toned down.

“Ken.” You paused to narrow your eyes. “Open the door.”

For the next minute and a half you swore you could hear some sort of clash and bang from inside the house. You kept your arms crossed, raising your eyebrow from time to time when the clashing seemed to grow louder. After what felt like an eternity, the front door opened slightly. Not all the way, but just enough for Ken to peek out and smile at you- albeit nervously cocky.

The nerve.

“Hey, [Y/N]! What uh- what are you doing here?” He manages to cough out, roughly combing a hand through his hair. “I thought it was your day o-”

“Save it.” You reply, your gaze sharp enough to slice through whatever excuse he had at the ready. You held up your phone then, the article’s headline prominently bolded:

OUT OF LEFT FIELD: Ken Sato Strikeout? Nope! Love Child Home Run!

Ken’s head bent down to get a good look at what you were showing him, and you watched carefully as his eyes scanned over the article not once, but thrice. You let out an impatient hum, your mouth forming into a slight scowl as the both of you stood in silence. With your head tilted to the side, you dropped your hand back down and crossed your arms. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to start explaining to me what the hell you’ve been up to these past twenty-four hours?” You question, moving past him as you enter the house. 

Usually you would wait for Ken to let you in, but stalling would only hinder you from coming up with what to do next. The article had already been up for two hours, and you halted any statements from being made before you could get an explanation from Ken himself. He quickly tailed after you, nearly stumbling over himself as you stopped at his kitchen. You gripped the marble countertop, closing your eyes momentarily before you turned to face him once more. 

“[Y/N] I swear, it’s not as bad as you think it is,” Ken says as he tries to add reassurance to his tone, but it doesn't mask the lingering tinge of falsehood.

“Oh, really?” You say, your eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Because in the span of two hours I have had thirty news outlets blowing up my- your management team for a response!”

He opens his mouth to speak, but stops again midway when you continue. “The headline I showed you was local. I want you to tell me exactly how and why you were on the phone with a reporter talking about your private life at God knows what hour. Now.”

You can see him swallow, licking his lips after as he tries to form the right words. He blinks a bit before pinching the bridge of his nose, tilting his head up as he lets out a deep sigh. When he opens his eyes he’s still greeted with your restive stance. Still he remains slightly hesitant, but he does end up recalling the remnants of his conversation with a reporter he had met at one of the parties he attended. Ken goes on to explain that he had only seeked out advice. His schedule, his personal life- he needed an outlet. You can feel yourself slowly untense, though you continued to listen to make sure all your facts were straight.

When he finishes his retelling, he puts his hands up slightly- as if he were trying to put you at ease. “I swear, that’s all I said. I thought,” He pauses, his brows furrowing in a way that made you slightly mad at yourself from blowing up at him. “I just thought I could have a normal conversation for once. ‘Guess I was wrong.”

The warm lights cast a sombre shadow on his features, and from this angle you notice the worn out expression painted on his face. The bags under his eyes are darker than usual, not to mention the fading bruises from his latest altercation with one of players from his opposing team. In front of you was not Ken Sato, this was Kenji; Simply a man who was thrust into a new life without the needed support. 

“Well, no shit.” You say, finally breaking the silence, you fix your posture against the counter as you tone down the anger in your voice. “Jesus Ken, sometimes I wonder how you were able to maintain your career before me.”

At that he lets out a soft laugh, his dull expression slowly fading. “Yeah, I do too.”

You give him a puzzled look before you reply. “Are you mocking me?”

“No! No, I was being serious.” He says, his smile dropping slightly. “I know I haven’t been an easy task, hell you’re here on your day off for Christ’s sake.” 

You hum at his words, narrowing your eyes slightly as you push yourself off the counter with another awkward cough. In all ninety days of working under Ken Sato, never has the man gotten this sentimental with you. You decide not to linger on his words, your attention going back to the problem at hand. 

“Right, well,” You sigh, whipping your phone out in the process. “I need you to give me the name of that reporter. I’ll get the legal team to draft an NDA breach.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows then, looking at you as if you’d said something odd. “I didn’t make him sign an NDA though?”

You only give him a smile, a hint of confidence plastered on your lips. “I know. I have my ways, Sato.”

“You’re a pretty good assistant, then.” He replies, the corners of his lips going up slightly as he keeps his arms crossed. 

“I’m an excellent assistant.” You correct without looking at him, your fingers tapping away at your phone as you prepare the next steps of your plan. 

Ken can only chuckle in agreement, tapping his fingers on his forearm as he awaits your next set of instructions. Within the next twenty minutes you’ve sent out the necessary details to your team, your legs kicking as you sit on one of his bar stools. He’s stood across from you, leaning on the countertop looking at you intently as you explain the response plan. 

“And lastly,” You say, sliding out your hand. “Give me your phone.”

 His head tilts, the same confused expression on his face. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Your hand curls, motioning for him to hand his phone over. “No, I am not installing a monitor.” You add when you see his mouth open to interrogate you. 

He slides his phone over with a defeated huff, and you open a new contact page on his contacts. “If you need to talk, do it with someone who won’t leak your shit.” You say, sliding back his phone when all your details are settled.

“I have your number though, don’t I?” Ken questions, looking over at the number you inputted. 

“You had my work number. Now you have my personal phone.” You point your finger at him before continuing. “Don’t abuse it. I’m still your assistant.” “Wasn’t gonna, sweetheart.” He says, an amused smirk mixing in with his addled look. 

You quirk your eyebrow at the nickname. You shake your head, hopping off the stool as you make your way back to the front door. Ken follows behind you, hands in his pockets as he watches you leave. Before you can open the door though, you look back at him one last time. 

“I mean it, Ken.” You say, making sure it gets through his head. “You have a problem, tell me. You need a solution, you tell me.”

“I know, I know.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile, nodding towards the door. “Go enjoy the rest of your day off before I start thinking you care about me.”

“I do. It’s my job to care about you, Ken.” You reply, giving him a look before you open the door. “Whether you like it or not, I’m your lifeline. At least until you get rid of me, which won’t be happening for a good while.”

“Oh yeah?” He jests, his cocky demeanor slowly coming back. “‘You so sure about that?”

“Extremely sure.” You’re standing outside now, slowly walking backwards. “Twenty minutes ago people thought you had a secret love child and that you were a terrible father. Now you’re back on the face of KFC as baseball’s darling.” 

He’s taken aback. Was he actually booted off of his collaborations? He hastily checked his phone, scrolling through all his platforms. To his surprise, he was greeted with… his usual feeds. No sight of the article, no lingering gossip. His ads had doubled, his partnerships boosted on the products he had endorsed. He looked back up to say something, but you had already started your car. You backed out his estate, giving him a smile through the tinted glass of your windshield. 

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. You were right. But who was he kidding?

You always were.

[ellecdc]

Heyyy! I’m usually a silent tumblr warrior but omg I keep coming up with so many different Au’s in my head. 🙈 Also I love your writing it’s godsent. 😏

Tonight I was thinking of Model!Reader x photographer!Remus 😖💔. Who are like totally obsessed with each other and are always supporting their careers. Remmy getting sooo many candid photos of reader and using them in his portfolio. Along with them both going to each others viewings/ runway shows. I just can’t omg so many possibilities ..🥲

~🪼

this is so. stinking. cute. the second I received this I had to send it to @maladaptiveescapism (my muggle AU queen who gifted us all the beautiful, beautiful man that is chef!sirius) and she came up with the SWEETEST meet cute. thank you for sharing this prompt, lovie!! I hope I did it justice <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader who ends up being Remus' big break [2.6k words]

CW: fluff, swearing, reader has a dog and he's adorable, meet cute, fame

Remus needn’t look in a mirror (or one of the windows of the shops on the street) to know that his nose was pink; he had always been very sensitive to the cold, and it was only exacerbated by his love for it.

It was his favourite time of year; waking up in the morning when the ground was still covered in shimmery frost before turning into a misty fog as the sun poked its way through trees and buildings. The trees and grass were still grasping desperately at the shades of greens that it usually wore, but the leaves - determined in their journey - insisted on turning various shades of oranges, yellows, reds, and browns.

Remus loved them. 

He also found that people were perhaps their most beautiful when cold - he hardly ever left for his morning walks without his camera, which also meant he left for his morning walks without a pair of mittens or gloves which might impede his ability to control the lens and shutter - and there was something about the cool air that brought out the most beautiful colours in not only the trees, but also of the people. 

And Remus yearned to capture it.

He’d found a beautiful elderly man enjoying a mocha outside a small coffee shop who he chatted with for a while before he asked him if he’d be okay to take some pictures. Every crinkle near the corners of his eyes was evidence of laughter and joy, every wrinkle between his brow a testament to years of consideration and thought, every divot around his mouth was a story he shared, a kiss he gave, a meal he enjoyed. 

Every deep line on the man’s face - Albus had been his name - told a story, and Remus was lucky enough to have captured even a fraction of it with his camera. 

Remus’ fingers were struggling to thaw out in his pockets as he took the long way home - traversing through the quiet park in the centre of the city which was slowly becoming more lively as the morning wore on and the sun rose higher, though it was still quiet enough for Remus to enjoy. 

Some days he had more luck than others, not because there was a lack of beautiful people - because there was surely no shortage of that - but rather nothing that inspired Remus to create. 

Some days it frustrated him, and some days he was able to remind himself he was really doing this for fun and not being paid for his portraits save what small income he made through creator perks on various social media platforms. 

How nice it would be to get paid for his portraits, though. 

Remus had paused in his walk to bend over and pick up a disposable coffee cup from the sidewalk to put it in a rubbish bin when he spotted the perfect picture. 

There was a wrought-iron and wooden slat park bench a few paces away from the footpath in the park sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops as if some deity had placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice it.

The patch of grass that the sun was kissing was melting into its usual green whilst the grass surrounding it was still its unique combination of dark sage, green, and silver courtesy of the autumn twilight.

A senior looking dog - a border collie, if Remus guessed correctly - attached to a simple red lead seemed to have found himself a good stick for chewing as he basked in the sun, the lead looped gently around the wrist of his person who sat on the bench with a ratty looking paperback in their hand. 

You were ethereal. 

You had one hand shoved into a knitted mitten whilst the other held your book, though a second mitten sat ready should you no doubt decide your free hand was too cold and needed to switch. You had multiple layers on and a comfy pair of shoes. Clearly out for a walk yet knowing that your dog did less walking now-a-days and spent more time in sunny spots with a nice stick, you came prepared with a novel to enjoy the transitionary season much the same way Remus did. 

And you were stunning.

You looked like a sip of warm apple cider, like the trees had parted their branches just to give the sun somewhere to direct its warmth and light, like the sun came out only for the chance of seeing you.

Remus actually took a look around him to see if anyone else was seeing what he was - nothing short of a masterpiece - but the masses appeared wholly unaware that they were in the presence of something hallowed. 

He lost his nerve more times than he could count as he tried to convince his boots to take him in your direction, to start up the conversation the same way he always did with every other stranger he stopped on the street to take their picture. But this felt different, you were different, you-

…were looking over at him; your dog ceasing to chew on his stick in favour of staring intently at Remus alerting you to the fact that you had an admirer (at best, or a stalker at worst).

To avoid looking like the latter, Remus forced his feet to bring him to you, smiling at you as you marked your place in your book and closed it before offering him a wary smile of your own. 

“Pardon me, I’m terribly sorry to intrude, but, erm, well-” sodding son of a bitch, stick to the script, “my name is Remus and I’m a street photographer, I uhm, I take portraits of people I pass on the street and post them to my socials.” He offered awkwardly as he pulled out his phone - numb fingers nearly dropping it as he raced to try to prove to you he wasn’t some creep with a long-distance lens on his camera hanging around public parks - wincing as the end of his sentence lilted up in the form of a question. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you and your dog, here,” he pushed on, said dog still watching him carefully and tilting his head at the end of every one of his sentences, “and you look beautiful- or, rather, it makes a beautiful picture! I, well, I guess I was wondering if you’d mind if…I took your picture?”

And by some absolute twist of fate, you had the good graces to simply smile at him like he wasn’t some awkward bumbling fool which only served to make you even more beautiful as you handed him his phone back.

“That’s really cool, Remus,” you offered, sounding as though you were testing how his name felt forming from your lips as you made eye contact with him, “thank you. I’d be happy to be your model.”

“Brilliant.” Remus let out with a breath of relief. “Now are you and…” he paused as he gestured toward your companion. 

“Ziggy.”

“...Ziggy a package deal or should I ask him his rates?” 

You let out a bubbly laugh which encouraged Ziggy to sit up - albeit slowly due to his age - and cock his head at you. 

“What do you say, Ziggs?” You asked the canine who cocked its head the other way. “Do you want to model too?” 

As if the dog knew you were waiting for a response, he let out a polite bark before laying back down. 

“Well there you have it, Remus; we’re all yours.” 

The picture returned to its previous perfection; between you returning to your novel sans one mitten and Ziggy’s focus back to his treasure, Remus was able to capture you exactly how he wanted. You were wearing a soft smile which only grew when Remus nearly bumped into a jogger in an attempt to get a different angle. 

You held your book to your mouth to hide your laughing as he called a hasty apology to the girl who barely slowed down on his account, and he shot a cute picture of you like that, too; your eyes full of mirth and crinkling at the corners in a quiet laugh at his expense. 

Remus was infatuated. 

It felt blasphemous in some way, but Remus had to admit he was very chuffed to have an excuse to join you on your alter bench, pretending as though you leaning into him - for warmth or for a better view of his camera screen, he wasn’t sure - didn’t make him feel like his heart was trying to exit out of his throat as you sung your praises for the pictures. 

“Remus.” You hissed as if you really couldn’t believe your eyes. “These are really good! Oh my god…”

Remus chuckled awkwardly as you brought the camera closer to you, ultimately forcing Remus to breathe your air as the camera strap pulled his body closer to yours. 

“You’re very talented.” You added earnestly  before looking up at him with something akin to awe. “Do you have a portfolio?”

“Erm, well,” he mumbled, suddenly very aware that he was nearly on top of a relative stranger in this public park at about 8:30 in the morning, “I…sort of? I mean, I have my socials.”

You nodded at him and looked back down at his camera before passing it back to him. “Are you going to post these?” 

“I’d very much like to, if you’re okay with that?” 

“Please do.” You agreed readily. “Do you tag people in your portraits?”

Remus nearly snickered as he thought of Albus this morning who seemed completely perplexed by the phone in Remus’ hand let alone by the concept of social media. “Sometimes; not everyone I photograph is online. Would you like to be tagged?”

“Yes please.” You beamed at him; Remus’ fingers itched to lift his camera back up to capture you like this, too. Fuck, you were beautiful. “My mum’s always saying she doesn’t have nearly enough pictures of me.”

“Well we can’t have that.” Remus chuckled as he pulled out his phone and opened the notes app so you could add your Instagram handle. 

“It was very nice meeting you, Remus.” You offered, and Remus felt something close to shock at how truly sincere you sounded. “You should be charging people for that.” You added, gesturing to the camera hanging from his neck. 

“I could always start now.” He offered in jest, and he was rewarded again by your bubbling laugh; Remus felt nearly torn at having to leave, every shift of your face and expression begging to be photographed, and every muscle in his body begging to do the photographing. 

But when he offered you a smile and a slightly awkward wave as he walked away  - the sound of your laugh still  echoing in his mind - he wondered if maybe, in some universe out there, there was a version of him that got to commit every expression that crossed your face - to memory or film, either would suffice. 

𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱

The following day, Remus couldn’t escape the office meeting quick enough; his phone buzzing incessantly the last twenty five minutes of the forty five minute planning session - that he was supposed to be taking dutiful notes throughout - burning a hole through his trouser pocket and into the muscle of his thigh. 

35 missed calls from Sirius.

12 missed calls from James

Sirius: answer the fucking phone, you sod!!

Sirius: when the fuck did you take these!?!? (4 attachments)

Sirius: Lupin I STG

James: Lily is freaking out!!! Did you get an autograph??

James: who am I kidding. You had no idea, did you?

“What the fuck…” Remus murmured under his breath as he scrolled through the notifications on his lock screen, blushing something fierce when a coworker brushed past him reminding him he was supposed to be being professional which generally meant not swearing. 

The second Remus stepped onto the pavement outside of his building, his phone started ringing again. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He answered instead of saying ‘hello, Sirius; alright?’. 

“What the fuck is going on!?” Sirius barked back. “How about you tell me when the fuck you met Y/N L/N!?” 

Remus felt his eyebrows cinch as he pulled his phone from his face when another text came in. 

Lily: I’m so fucking jealous right now!

Lily: also, I should probably say congrats; I’m sure this is going to be great for your career!

“Remus!”

“Christ, Sirius, I’m here.” Remus muttered as he brought the phone back to his ear. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Son of a bitch.” Sirius muttered on the other end of the line. “The pictures you posted yesterday!”

“Of the man? Or-”

“The bird! Remus! Y/N L/N!”

Remus suddenly realised why the name sounded familiar; it had been your instagram handle.

“Oh! Do you know her?”

“Do I know her? Mate, she’s fucking famous.”

“What?”

“She’s a sodding model! She’s been in Sports Illustrated, walked in New York Fashion Week and Paris Fashion Week, she was in a music video recently; fuck who was the artist…”

“Wha- what the fuck? How did I not know this?” Remus asked dumbly. 

“God, you’re thick. Did you not notice the fucking blue checkmark next to her name on instagram when you tagged her?” 

Remus was so glad Sirius couldn’t see him right now; he always felt properly chastised when it was Sirius handing his ass to him, but this felt bigger somehow. 

“Well… I don’t know, I’m verified too but that doesn’t mean anyone knows me!” He argued half-heartedly; he really hadn’t noticed…

Sirius snorted. “Yeah well, everyone’s gonna know you now, mate.”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked sternly.

“I mean” Sirius started theatrically “that she’s shared your original post to her story and posted your pictures to her page and tagged you as the photographer. She only posted it two hours ago and it already has almost 70,000 likes. Have you not looked at instagram?”

“Sirius, I work in a fucking corporate office, I can’t be on my phone all of the time.” He spat rather petulantly. 

“Bully for you.” Sirius muttered in response. “Check now then.”

Remus stole himself as he closed the call screen that simply consisted of a terrible picture of Sirius before opening up instagram. 

The notification tab simply read 100+, but when he moved to view his profile he realised he had gained nearly 10,000 followers just since leaving for work this morning. 

“Jesus…” Remus breathed out slowly. 

“You might want to put a portfolio together, mate.” Sirius offered, tone still slightly teasing, though the edges were softer and Sirius’ pride was nearly palpable even through the phone. “This might finally be your big break.”

All because Remus had noticed you - a beautiful girl - in the park with a book and a dog sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops… as if some deity placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice. 

And of course he noticed you; how could he not?

I'd be happy to be your model. Do you have a portfolio? You should be charging people for that.

This might finally be your big break. 

Little did either of you know that you would end up being Remus’ big break.

[dreamsteddie]

Companion piece to my Stobin childhood friends au post because try as I might to resist it, the Steddie brain rot will take over.

Robin and Steve are thick as thieves from that first day of preschool onwards. Their matching friendship bracelets don't fit anymore but have found homes in their "secret friendship treasure chest" which is a shoe box covered in construction paper decorations that lives under Robin's bed so Steve's parents don't throw away any of his "trash" again. They've started a tradition of making a new one for each other at the start of every year so everyone remembers they're best friends, though.

Halfway through first grade (Robin got to start school a year early like the Buckleys hoped) things are going great for Robin. She gets to bring books home from the library and their teacher complimented her drawing of a robin and she helped Steve pass his spelling test last week, so as far as she's concerned this is the best year ever.

Right up until Eddie Munson transfers to their school.

At first, Robin doesn't know that Eddie will be her arch-nemesis. When he's introduced to the class, all she really thinks about him is that he looks a little funny but seems nice. He's got really big eyes and he's taller than most of the other kids with long, gangly limbs. His hair is shaved down to his head, but there are other boys in class who have the same cut. He gets placed at the table group to the left of them in the chair closest to Steve's.

She very quickly forgets about him as the day continues as normal. Robin thinks math block is boring, she'd much rather read her books or play with Steve at recess but her parents said knowing your shapes is important, so she pays extra special attention. That's why she doesn't catch the little wave Steve, ever the social butterfly, gives to the boy across the way or the way Eddie's eyes go even bigger and a soft blush steals across his cheeks.

What she does notice is when Eddie comes up to them in the last few precious minutes of recess slightly sweaty and out of breath holding a little white daisy.

"Hi! I'm Eddie, I'm new!" he says, shouts really, looking directly at Steve.

"Oh, hi Eddie! I'm Steve, this is my bestest friend, Robin." Steve replies.

"Like the bird?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah! They're orange."

"And I hate orange!" Robin buts in, not willing to be left out of the conversation

"Yeah, it's really sad. They should be blue, that's Robin's favorite color." Steve says, real disappointment creeping into his voice. "Who's that for?" he asks, pointing to the forgotten daisy.

"Oh! It's for you! I was out all recess looking for the best one in the field. They kind of match your shirt!' Eddie says proudly, referencing Steve's polo with the yellow body and white sleeves. It's one of his favorites.

"Really? That's so nice, thank you!" Steve exclaims as he takes the little flower into his hands.

Robin's mom says that sometimes when you want to be someone's friend, it's good to start by giving them something nice. Robin's mom says that she should try and make more friends, maybe some girls instead of just Steve, but when Robin tries to talk to the other girls in class, she gets nervous and clams up. She thinks she might be allergic to them. Plus, why would she need more friends when she has Steve, who is worth at least three normal friends.

Steve gets along with everyone, he lends people erasers and pencils and shares his blocks with the other kids when he's allowed to bring them out of his cubby, but no one is his best friend like Robin is.

No one has ever given Steve flowers before, though. That feels like an extra special kind of gift that someone would give if they wanted to be really good friends, and Robin doesn't want that. Steve is her best friend, he doesn't need another one.

"Steve, we gotta go get in line before all the other kids! We don't want to be last!" she blurts out, grabbing Steve by the hand and dragging him across the asphalt to where the teachers are getting ready to call everyone to get in line before Eddie can catch up.

Once they've got their places, she looks back at Steve behind her to see he's turned around. She peaks her head around him and sees him smiling wide at an equally smiley Eddie who's about 5 kids behind them, each of them waving happily at each other.

Oh yeah, Robin is going to have to keep an eye on him.

[littlelamy]

crossing the line part 2

the following weeks felt like a blur. rafe had pulled back, avoiding you like the plague. he stayed close to sofia, their relationship seeming stronger than ever while you watched from the sidelines, heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. you’d often find yourself wondering if that night had ever really happened, or if it had been a figment of your imagination—a fleeting moment that crumbled under the harsh light of reality.

but every time you saw rafe, that spark ignited all over again, pulling you in like a moth to a flame. you couldn't shake the feeling that he was just as torn as you were. the glances he threw your way still held that familiar heat, the unfulfilled promise of what could have been.

one saturday evening, you found yourself at the beach bonfire with your friends, a welcome distraction from your racing thoughts. the salty breeze whipped your hair around, mingling with the sound of laughter and music as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. but even surrounded by friends, you felt a familiar ache in your chest.

as you roasted marshmallows, your eyes drifted toward rafe, who was sitting too close to sofia, his arm casually draped around her shoulder. she giggled at something he said, and the warmth of the fire couldn’t compete with the chill that settled over you.

“hey, you okay?” jj asked, noticing your distant expression. he nudged you with his elbow, pulling you back to the moment.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you replied, forcing a smile.

“right. just enjoying the view, huh?” he winked, following your gaze.

you sighed, shaking your head. “it’s whatever. just tired of the same old thing, i guess.”

“want to go for a walk? clear your head?” he suggested, always the one to sense when someone needed a break.

you nodded, grateful for the chance to escape the awkwardness. as you walked along the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the silence between you.

“rafe still got you feeling some type of way?” jj asked, glancing over at you with a teasing smile.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“right, because I can totally tell you don’t want to punch him in the face for being a jerk.”

“he’s not a jerk,” you argued weakly, but the words fell flat even to your own ears. “i mean, he is… but he’s complicated.”

jj chuckled, shaking his head. “complicated, huh? sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

you sighed, your heart feeling heavy again. “it just sucks, you know? i thought we had something real, but now… it’s like I don’t even exist to him.”

“hey,” jj said, stopping to face you. “you’re worth more than whatever games he’s playing. don’t let him mess with your head.”

you nodded, grateful for his words, but they only provided temporary relief. as the night wore on, the laughter and chatter began to fade into the background, and your thoughts turned back to rafe and sofia.

later, you found yourself walking back toward the bonfire, heart racing as you caught sight of rafe standing alone, staring into the flames. you hesitated, debating whether to approach him or just keep walking. but before you could make a decision, he looked up, his gaze locking onto yours.

“hey,” he said, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“hey,” you replied, your pulse quickening.

“can we talk?”

you swallowed hard, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes. “yeah, sure.”

he stepped away from the fire, leading you a little further down the beach, away from prying eyes and ears. the air was thick with unspoken words, and you could feel the tension crackling between you, making it hard to breathe.

“i’ve been meaning to talk to you,” rafe started, running a hand through his hair. “about… everything.”

you nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral, but inside, your heart raced. “okay.”

“i know i’ve been distant. and i didn’t mean to push you away, but I was confused. sofia and i… it’s complicated.”

“yeah, I get that,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “but you don’t have to explain anything to me. i get it, rafe. I really do.”

“no, you don’t,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes intense. “you don’t get how much i’ve thought about you since that night. how much I’ve wanted to reach out but felt like i couldn’t.”

your breath caught in your throat as your heart raced. “then why didn’t you?”

“because i didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “but I can’t stop thinking about what we had. it’s like I’m trapped between two worlds.”

“rafe…”

“just give me a chance,” he pleaded, taking another step closer, closing the distance between you. “i want to figure this out. i want to be with you.”

the world around you faded as your heart soared at his words. but doubt crept in, a whisper of caution in the back of your mind. “what about sofia? you’re with her.”

“i know,” he said, frustration etched across his features. “but i don’t want to be, im planning to break up with her as soon as i get home, but more importantly i want you….all of you”

in that moment, it felt like everything hung in the balance. you could take a step forward and give in to the feelings you’d tried to bury, or you could pull back and protect yourself from the inevitable fallout.

but as you looked into rafe’s eyes, filled with something raw and real, you felt the pull too strong to resist.

“okay,” you whispered, your heart racing. “let’s figure it out.”

his eyes lit up with a mix of relief and something deeper as he stepped even closer, his breath brushing against your skin. and in that instant, as he leaned in, you knew you were crossing a line, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like the right decision.

you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that ignited the fire within you. his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you against him, as if trying to fuse your bodies together. the kiss deepened, hunger and urgency flooding through you both as the world around faded away.

you pressed against him, the heat of his body igniting a spark that sent shivers down your spine. you could feel the tension building, the desperation of all those unspoken words pouring into this single moment. his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back as he explored your mouth with a fervor that made your knees weak.

“God, i’ve missed this,” he murmured against your lips, breathless.

you gasped, your heart pounding. “me too.”

he pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for confirmation, then kissed you again—deeper this time, as if he couldn’t get enough. you melted into him, feeling his strong arms encircle you, grounding you even as the world spun around you.

the taste of him was intoxicating, and you felt a low hum of desire ripple through your body. you could feel the tension in his grip, the need that mirrored your own, as if you both were afraid to let go. it was reckless, but in that moment, nothing else mattered—just the two of you lost in the heat of the moment.

“let’s go somewhere,” Rafe whispered, his breath hot against your ear, sending another wave of shivers through you.

“somewhere?” you echoed, heart racing with possibilities.

he nodded, his eyes darkening with intensity. “somewhere we can be alone.”

the urgency in his voice made your heart race faster. you knew it was reckless to abandon the group, to slip away with him, but the pull was too strong to resist. you nodded, and before you could think twice, he took your hand and led you away from the bonfire, the distant laughter fading behind you.

as you walked, the cool night air enveloped you, but the heat radiating between you was undeniable. rafe led you to a secluded spot behind a cluster of palm trees, away from the flickering light of the bonfire.

when you reached the privacy of the shadows, he pushed you gently against the rough bark of a tree, his lips crashing against yours once more. the kiss was frantic, wild—fueled by all the pent-up frustration and longing that had simmered between you for weeks.

his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, igniting a fire within you that left you breathless. you moaned softly into the kiss, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you lost yourself in him.

“rafe,” you gasped, breaking the kiss to catch your breath.

“yeah?” he replied, his voice husky, eyes dark with desire.

“what if someone sees us?” you whispered, glancing back toward the bonfire.

“let them,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk. “i don’t care. i just want you, princess.”

his words sent a thrill through you, and with that, he captured your lips again, kissing you with a passion that made your heart race. you melted against him, surrendering to the moment as you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the heat radiating from his body.

you could feel the urgency in his movements, the way his hands gripped your thighs.

as rafe pressed his lips against yours, the kiss ignited a wildfire deep within you. it was electric, a combination of urgency and tenderness that made your heart race. you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body so close to yours that it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you. his hands slid down to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp against his mouth.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck, each touch sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. you could feel the tension building in your core, an ache that begged for release.

“rafe,” you breathed, your voice a soft plea. you wanted him—needed him. the words felt desperate and raw, but you didn’t care. the chemistry between you was undeniable, an all-consuming fire that threatened to engulf you both.

he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl. the weight of his question hung in the air, mingling with the salty breeze that surrounded you.

“more than anything,” you replied, your heart pounding as you gazed into his eyes. there was no turning back, and you didn’t want to.

with a sudden intensity, he captured your lips again, the kiss turning frantic as he pressed his body against yours, pinning you against the soft, cool sand. the sensation was overwhelming; every thrust of his tongue against yours ignited every nerve ending in your body. you moaned softly, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if you could meld into one.

“damn,” he groaned, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill down your spine. his hands wandered, exploring the curves of your body, fingers brushing against your sides before sliding up under your shirt. you gasped as his warm hands made contact with your skin, the sensation electric.

“rafe,” you breathed, your body arching into his touch, craving more. the way he looked at you made you feel beautiful, desired in a way that was intoxicating. “don’t stop.”

he pushed your shirt up and over your head, the fabric discarded carelessly, and his gaze swept over your bare skin, a mix of awe and hunger lighting up his eyes. “im sorry for hurting you, baby,” he breathed, his hands grazing your sides, down your waist, teasingly brushing against the swell of your breasts.

your breath hitched in your throat as he leaned down, capturing one nipple between his lips, his tongue swirling around it in a way that made your entire body hum with pleasure. you arched your back, pressing against him as you moaned, the sound escaping your lips unbidden.

“God, rafe,” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer. you were dizzy with desire, the heat pooling low in your belly, begging for release.

he switched sides, lavishing attention on your other breast, and you could feel the heat building inside you, a desperate need that was becoming impossible to ignore. you tugged at his hair, pulling him back up to your lips, desperate for more of him.

“take me,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could think. “i want you—now.”

the raw need in your voice seemed to ignite something primal in him. rafe looked down at you, his expression a mix of lust and determination. “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he growled, his voice thick with need.

with a swift motion, he positioned his cock at your entrance, his gaze locked onto yours as he slowly pushed inside. you gasped, the sensation overwhelming as he filled you completely. the stretch felt delicious, and you could feel every inch of him as he sunk deeper, your body instinctively accommodating him.

“fuck,” he hissed, his head dropping back as he lost himself in the feeling. “you’re so tight.” the words sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through you, amplifying the ache already building within.

“rafe, please,” you begged, your voice a soft plea. “move.”

he complied, pulling back slightly before thrusting into you again, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. you could feel the tension building with each thrust, the way he filled you sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your entire being.

“you’re incredible,” he breathed, his voice strained as he picked up the pace. the sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the quiet night, a primal symphony that only heightened the intensity of the moment.

as he drove deeper into you, your body responded instinctively, tightening around him, urging him on. “yes, just like that,” you gasped, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge, the pressure building dangerously close to the edge.

“tell me what you want,” he urged, his voice rough and low, breath coming in heavy pants. the way he looked at you, filled with raw need, made your heart race even faster.

“i want you to make me feel good,” you replied, the words spilling from your lips as the desire inside you surged. “i want to feel you—everything.”

with a growl, he surged forward, thrusting into you harder, deeper, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the air. each movement sent you spiraling further into ecstasy, the pressure building dangerously close to the edge.

“fuck, I’m so close,” he groaned, his body tense as he moved against you. “you’re so perfect, so fucking perfect.”

“me too,” you gasped, your breath hitching as the sensation began to overwhelm you, your body tightening around him in a desperate plea for release. “i need to—”

“let go,” he urged, his voice thick with urgency as he thrust into you again, and that was it. the tension snapped, and you were thrown over the edge, pleasure washing over you in a wave so intense it made you cry out.

“rafe!” you screamed his name, the sound echoing into the night as your body convulsed around him, pleasure exploding from deep within. you could feel him follow right behind you, the warmth of his release spilling inside you as he thrust one last time, a deep growl escaping his lips.

as the world slowly came back into focus, you lay there, bodies entwined, the aftermath of your passionate encounter lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. your heart raced, and you felt a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty wash over you. what had just happened felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

but rafe wasn’t done with you yet. He shifted beside you, looking down at you with a playful smirk. “i'm going to take care of you, baby” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

before you could respond, he slid down your body, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your skin, igniting your senses all over again. your breath quickened as he moved lower, his hands parting your thighs gently, exposing you to him. “just relax,” he murmured, his voice thick with intent.

he didn’t waste any time. rafe dove in, his mouth kissing its way up your inner thighs before finally finding your puffy lips. the moment his tongue made contact, you gasped, your back arching off the sand as a wave of pleasure coursed through you.

“rafe,” you moaned, the sound escaping your lips as his mouth worked magic, swirling and teasing, taking his time to explore every inch of you. he was relentless, a delicious combination of slow and intense, sending shockwaves through your entire being.

“you taste so good,” he groaned against you, sending vibrations through your core that made you squirm. “i could stay here all night.”

“please, don’t stop,” you begged, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. the sensations were overwhelming, each flick of his tongue sending you spiraling higher and higher, your body responding instinctively to his every move.

“you need to let go,” he murmured, looking up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “i need you to feel good.”

with that, he focused on your most sensitive spots, his tongue working in perfect rhythm, drawing you closer to the edge once again. the tension built within you, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in tidal waves. you could feel it coming, the need for release swelling until you could hardly breathe.

“rafe, i’m so close,” you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation.

“let go, baby,” he urged, his voice a seductive whisper as he continued to pleasure you, his tongue driving you wild.

with a cry of his name, you fell over the edge, the world exploding into a thousand pieces as pleasure consumed you. you could feel his mouth still working on you, coaxing every last bit of ecstasy from your body, until you were left breathless and trembling, a blissful haze enveloping you.

he slowly crawled back up your body, his gaze intense, and you could see the satisfaction in his eyes as he nestled beside you. “see? I told you, i could make it up for you,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

as you lay there, the cool breeze wrapping around you both, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had stepped into a new chapter of your life—one that would be filled with passion, challenges, and perhaps even love.

part 2 taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @ietss @theeternaloptimistt @katekells @arluna @dinakisser @heartsforrafecam

[b14augrana]

The End Of The World

Alexia isn’t well post-breakup

Alexia Putellas x reader

masterlist

Warnings: angst, mutual breakup, yearning and heartbroken alexia, no happy ending

A/N: listen to the song for max effect! ‘right where you left me’ is another good one that fits this story. this is only a short fic, but i hope you enjoy :)

You and Alexia breaking up was for the best. She knows that.

Her career is demanding, and you just weren’t willing to pursue that lifestyle yet; it was glamorous, being the girlfriend of a professional footballer, but it also meant there were rarely any opportunities to spend quality time with her and that wasn’t the relationship you wanted. She understands that.

So why does it hurt worse than ending on bad terms? Actually, that’s a stupid question. Alexia knows why it hurts. If she had a reason to hate you, it would be easier to move on, but she cannot think of a single thing worth hating you for.

That’s what she hates the most — the lack of cruelty, toxicity, infidelity behind the breakup. There isn’t a single proper reason for her to stop yearning for you.

The first week after the breakup, she finds herself seeking out any signs of you wherever she could. It hurts, and she doesn’t have an excuse or a reason. She swore that your perfume lingered in the air, following her, taunting her. Whenever someone walks past, she notices; everyone smells like oranges, earth, and incense. Everyone smells like you.

On every street, there is something of yours. A mural you posed in front of for a photo, a flower bush you once pointed out on a walk because the budding flora stood out to you, a restaurant you introduced Alexia to without knowing it would quickly become her favourite. She sees apparitions of you in places that you would’ve been in right now, if you were still here. Still with her. Still part of her life.

Everything seems pointless and from the moment you declare the love story of her life to be over, Alexia thinks that everything should cease to exist. Why does the sun shine through the gaps in her curtains, when you aren’t laying beside her in the mornings to compliment it? Why does her heart continue to beat, when it cannot be listened to on sleepless nights, with your head on her chest?

Nobody works up the courage to ask her what’s wrong when she walks into the gym with dull under eyes and little to no energy in her movements. Alexia’s signature enthusiasm to be in the gym and improving herself is gone, and her teammates only look on with inconclusive questions as to why their captain is so… different. She watches them go on with their lives like nothing ever happened, and she’s so offended and bitter. They’re completely unaware that the end is here, at least for Alexia. The world has been at its inevitable end for longer than they know — the world ended when you stopped loving her.

Alexia isn’t one for letters, so it’s incredible that she finds herself sitting at her dining table, hunched over at an ungodly hour, scrawling words in her best handwriting onto a piece of paper.

She seals it in an envelope, running her thumb along the smooth surface for a second. She still knows your address by heart, and despite your house being much like a prison for her in terms of trying to avoid it at all costs, she finds herself navigating streets and turning corners to end up there.

Alexia passes a bookstore, and in the short moment she stands in front of it, she recalls standing in between aisles with you while you chose a book to buy. Clothing shops line the roads, and she can point out shirts in their windows that you own. A restaurant sits on the corner of the street, and she can point out the table you two had eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner at…

But she can point something else out — you.

You’re there, in the window, sitting at the table in the same seat you always chose. It makes her wonder if those memories were lost on you. Magazine in one hand, tea in the other. She knows it’s tea, because you hate coffee.

Alexia becomes acutely aware of the letter in her hand, and her plans have changed.

When a waitress comes up to your table with a little white envelope in hand, explaining that someone had just come into the restaurant and asked her to give it to you, you’re confused. When you unfold the letter and read it, whatever you’re feeling is inexplicable.

‘Mi querido,

I probably shouldn’t be calling you ‘mi querido’, or writing this letter in the first place, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t tell you how much I love you one more time. I cannot imagine a life where being happy and being without you are able to coexist. If I knew that my career would’ve been the end of us, I would’ve traded my first love for my forever love, in a heartbeat.

Sincerely yours…

Your head lifts and you crane to look out of the window. Streaks of blonde hair disappear down the street, further than you can see from your seat.

…Alexia.’

[surielstea]

Beg For It

1k celebration request

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader (mafia au)

Summary: Reader is ovulating, enough said.

Warnings: Smut | minors dni | p in v | no foreplay | unprotected sex | heavy breeding kink | allusion to pregnancy | petnames (baby, sweet girl, brat) | bondage (shadows) | no plot, just smut.

2.4k words

I don't know what it was exactly that was wrong with me. I wasn't normally this clingy but for some reason, all I could think about was my very dangerous, very busy husband. He was all I wanted as of late, and if I didn't constantly have my hands on him I think I would collapse.

"Baby, I have to go to work," Azriel sighs, stumbling towards the door as I latch to his waist, draping over him and making him drag me along with him.

"Don't want you to," I whine, tightening my hold.

"Love," He sighed, stopping our game of push and pull, and rather turning to face me. I look up at him with a pout to my lips and his eyes soften, his hands coming up to my jaw. "My pretty girl," He admires, his thumbs rubbing over the tops of my cheeks. "What's gotten into you, hm?" He tilts his head and I shrug mischievously, knowing damn well what was making me so needy. "Tell me," He encourages and my frown deepens.

"I'm ovulating," I grumble and he smirks.

"Oh yeah?" He says, his voice dropping and I groan, playfully hitting his chest in a futile attempt to get him to stop teasing.

"Stop, you know what that does to me," I say and he chuckles, catching my wrists to stop me from pummeling him anymore.

"My poor baby," He hums as I wrap my arms around his torso rather than punch him and stuff my face into his chest, unable to get close enough.

"Don't pity me," I huff.

"Then what is it you'd like me to do?"

"Stay," I mutter. "Please, you can spend all day filling me," I attempt to coerce but he seems unwavering.

"You're insatiable," He grumbles, his hands meeting my hips.

"It's your fault," I huff into his chest, his expensive cologne enveloping me.

"Yeah? How so baby?" He said, pulling away to look at my expression, my brows crinkled with an evident pout painting my lips.

"You know how," I cross my arms defensively.

"I don't think I do, use your voice hun," He encourages and I curse, looking at him with a defeated expression.

"You and your pretty words get me all bothered and you know it," I confess and he smirks.

"Do they?" He leaned closer and I groaned, pushing him away and stomping down the hallway.

"Whatever, just go to work already," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Aw, don't be like that." Arms wrap around my waist and pull me into a chest. "It's alright baby, just say you want me," He hums, kissing down my neck, making me clench my legs together.

"Az," I sigh, my hand coming to his cheek. "You have to go to work." I push him away by the face but he twists out of the position so he is in front of me once again, blocking my path towards the hallway.

"Well, I can't just leave my needy wife all alone now can I?" He tilts his head and I close my eyes, cursing him for making this all harder than it had to be.

"I'll be fine," I mutter, lifting onto my toes and pecking his cheek before fluidly moving past him. "Go." I make a gesture with my hands that waves him away as if one of the most feared men on the continent were a child in need of directions.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you really want me to leave." Azriel's hands return to my hips before I can get too far, his grip tightening as he pulls me right back into his chest so I am flushed against him.

I grit my teeth, looking up into his hazel eyes. It was no wonder it was his job to interrogate whatever poor soul wronged the crime syndicate, it seemed as if it was impossible to lie to him when staring into those pools of hazel. Emerald and gold melded together, a rim of blue lining his pupil, and orange on the outermost edge. They were the first things I noticed about him, and they will always be my favorite physical features of his. He knew that, of course, he also knew that I was a terrible liar.

"Tell me you want me to leave," He encourages and I stifle a sigh, looking away because I unfortunately couldn't find it in myself to even attempt. I wanted him, and he seemed willing enough to give me him.

His smirk widens. "That's what I thought," He concluded in a snarky tone, but before I could manage a retort he picked me up by my hips and tossed me over his shoulder like a rag doll.

"Az! Let me go!" I pound my fists into his back but he was too busy trailing his large hand up the back of my thigh to care. "Azriel," I groan, now kicking my feet. But that didn't seem to phase him either, and he didn't put me down until we were in our bedroom and he could throw me onto the bed.

I recovered quickly, looking up at him with creased brows as I fiddled with the hem of my nightgown. "Oh don't act all shy now," He taunted. "C'mon baby, tell me what you want," He came to the edge of the bed so he was directly in front of me, his large frame looming over mine. "Or you could show me," He offers, holding out a hand and I look down at the hem of my nightgown and then back up to him. I grab his outstretched hand and push it under my dress, silently encouraging him to take it off. He seems to understand and does exactly as I wish.

The fabric falls to the floor within seconds and I fall back into the mattress, my head landing in the pillows as I watch him mount over me.

I hastily work at getting his shirt off, the silent thrashing of clothes filling the room as he kisses down my neck towards my collarbone.

"Az please," I implore, discarding his shirt down onto the floor with reckless abandon.

"What is it? Tell me what you want," He breathes into my lips. I arch up into him as the need in my chest intensifies.

"I can't wait any longer, please I need you now," I cry, my hands coming to the hem of his pants.

"Yeah? You gonna beg for it?" He incited and I whimper, attempting to press my legs together but he made the movement impossible with his hips settled between my thighs.

"Fuck, please Azriel," I fall deeper into the pillows, my need for him all-consuming as I allow myself to plead.

He leans closer as my pathetic voice fills the room, his nose running up the column of my throat before he begins placing sweet kisses down it. "More," He demands and my back arches up, my peaked breasts brushing against his chest.

"You can take me however you want, just gods, fuck me Az please," Tears fill my eyes as if I was begging for my life, yet that was what satisfied him.

"Turn around for me then, hips up alright?" He said and I nodded, quickly doing exactly as he said, my cheek going down onto one of the many pillows on our bed as I hiked up onto my knees. I can hear him sliding off his belt behind me, thrashing his pants off quickly afterward.

He hovers over me, lips pressing gentle kisses along the side of my neck in a soothing manner. I leaned into that touch, my head reclining to rest on his shoulder.

Shadows pinned me down onto the bed, dark tendrils twining around my wrists and ankles as he aligned his hips up with mine, his tip prodding teasingly at my entrance and I squirmed beneath him, writhing as I clenched around nothing, silently begging for him. "Shh, I know baby, I know it hurts," He runs a hand down my back, a soft caress to calm me. And then, he was pushing in.

"Az," I whimper as he finally sheathes himself, the wide head of his cock entering my core. I groan at the stretch, my back into his chest as he continues moving in, every inch making it harder and harder to breathe.

"So fucking, tight," He grits through his teeth, both his hands coming to my hips as he forces them back onto his cock. I screamed, clenching the sheets beneath me as he thrusts shamelessly deeper, with no caution to his movements as he picks up a steady rhythm. "This is what happens when I don't stretch you out first," He grunts. "So needy for me, impatient brat." His hands grip my hips tighter. "You gonna— gonna punish me?" I taunt, tears already forming in my eyes.

"I bet you'd like that hm? My dirty girl," He admires, pushing in all the way when I try to reply, cutting me off and replacing my words with a sudden moan, the sound ripping through me as he bottoms out inside of me.

I scream his name, the stretch so pleasurable that it brings pain. "Fuck, fuck Az I can't," I gripe, tears running down my cheeks.

"But you said you wanted this," He retorted, leaning over me so his lips were beside my ear. "You begged, remember?" He purred and a shiver ran down my spine as I flushed pink at the recent memory.

"Mhm," I nod, attempting to blink away my tears.

"Az." My back bows as he thrusts powerfully, deeper, so much deeper. Fuck, I could practically feel him in my womb. The thought alone left me clenching around him desperately, my body aching to be filled by him.

"Azriel," I moan, my tears cascading down my face like a waterfall but I didn't care anymore.

"What is it, baby?" He asked his voice half a groan.

"Breed me, please," I murmur, fully prepared to begin begging.

"Fuck," He sighed at my words, his forehead coming down to rest on my shoulder as he continues pulling out only to push back into my throbbing cunt.

"Az," I grip at the sheets, my need to release quickly turning overwhelming. "Please, I wanna have your babies," I whine and he smiles against the soft skin of my back.

"Yeah? You want me to give you more than one?" He purrs and I sigh in pleasure at the idea, sinking lower into the bed. "Mhm," I nod dumbly and within a moment his thrusts fold over in force, the strength doubling as his hips clap against the backs of my thighs.

My body screamed for release but I ignored it, I was going to draw this out as long as possible.

"Fuck, I'm gonna breed this tight cunt," He confesses and I squeeze around him at the idea, my core whirring with an uncontrollable need.

"Please," I cry, lying on the pillow pathetically as he continues stuffing himself inside of me. "Want you to come inside," I gripe, my voice fragile and raw but it only urged him to increase his speed.

"Is that right? Want me to get you pregnant? Get your belly all round with my kid?" He suggested and I quickly nodded, feeling beyond just agreement.

"Azriel," I arch deeper, my chest nearly flat against the mattress as I kept my ass up, making him feel all the more deeper inside of me.

I squeezed tighter around him and he twitched at the sensation. I smiled, prideful that he was close already. "Don't pull out," I whisper, reaching back and placing my hand on his cheek. "Want you to fill me," I throw my head back onto his shoulder while his thrusts continue, rocking the bed back and forth with the creaking of the headboard slamming against the wall. "You close?" He pants out and I nod frantically, unable to get the words out despite how badly I wanted to reach my climax.

"I can't," I manage but it was barely audible. "M'gonna—" I can't even finish my sentence before my orgasm takes me full throttle and I'm finding release on his heavy length.

The moan that rips through me is monumental, and the feeling of the moment, gods it was indescribable. A tidal wave of pure ecstasy swept me off my feet, and now I was drowning in the pleasure.

It took me a long moment to come down from that nearly celestial high, but once I did I realized I was clamped down around Azriel's cock so tightly that it was hard for him to move in and out of me any longer.

I knew he was close, the vein throbbing on the underside of his cock was proof of that.

"Fuck," He grunted lowly into the shell of my ear, my sensitive cunt twitching around his width at the sultry sound.

"C'mon Az, fill me," I whine and he nods, his forehead coming down onto my shoulder.

After one last stroke of his cock along my walls, his release finally spurted out into a direct line straight toward my womb. He groans at the feeling of his seed nestling deep inside my cunt, his small whimpers not going past my notice as he catches his breath and comes down from his high.

After a moment, ever so slowly, he unsheathes himself and allows me to fall down onto the welcoming bed.

"You did so well for me baby," He whispered, leaning down and placing pecks along the top of my spine. "My sweet girl," He hums and I mumble something incoherent about sleeping back.

"Not yet baby, I gotta clean you up," He soothes, scooping me into his arms and I whine clenching my legs together, not wanting any of his warm releases to escape me.

"M'tired," I groan but he ignores my protests and takes me into the bathroom anyway.

"Oh my poor girl," He hummed. "What am I going to do with you?" He tilts his head and I wiggle my brows suggestively.

"You could make me a mom," I suggest and he smiles, shaking his head.

"I'm already doing that, genius," He deadpans and the sudden realization overwhelms me. I wasn't pregnant yet, but that decision of being ready was enough to spur me into joy. I throw my arms around Azriel's neck and hug him tight to my bare chest.

"I love you too," He rubs my back, recognizing my silent form of affection. I nuzzle my face into his neck deeper. "My sweet girl," He sighs, his chin coming down onto mine. If everything goes well, we're soon to be parents. The idea alone at the moment was entirely perfection.

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[ddarker-dreams]

Worthy Motivator.

Blade x Reader.

Warnings: Typical Blade morbidity, Blade's slightly yan because I can never write him as Normal, and not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.

Author notes are at the end of the story!

Washcloth in hand, you wipe away the perspiration clinging to your skin. 

While doing so, you squint, an act your reflection obediently mimics, confirming that yes; this disheveled figure is indeed you. You smooth out your hair, moisturize your face, then apply a light layer of toner. The process is completed in a timely fashion. A few hand motions made midair dim the bathroom’s lights.

Yawning, the door slides open at your behest, retreating into the wall like a turtle does its shell. The room is dome-shaped and customized to your liking. A light birch wood floor, pale pink walls, and windows showcasing scenery of a tulip field stretching on for miles. Windmills dot the distance, turning at their leisure. Gentle orange hues from two rising suns envelop the room in a cozy glow. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you’d believe you were actually on the planet Ethos, not traversing the cold, unforgiving space between galaxies.

While playing with the settings to change the time being depicted to twilight, it finally dawns on you that you’re not alone. 

Blazing eyes freeze you in place and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Blade,” you greet, wincing at how gracelessly the word rolls from your tongue, “I didn’t expect…” 

You cut yourself off, figuring that finishing the sentence will strengthen the bizarre atmosphere. What can be said, anyway? ‘Thanks for that,’ or ‘couldn’t have done it without you,’ maybe? Both options seem equally terrible. To make matters worse, he doesn’t explain why he’s stuck around. He continues to stand beside your nightstand, arms crossed over his chest, his lips drawn in a straight line. 

You’re the only one boasting signs of your previous tryst, the most obvious being your unsteady gait. Hoping to convey some decorum, you clasp your hands behind your back and straighten your posture. Surely, he’ll spill whatever’s on his mind and then make himself scarce. That’s been his modus operandi ever since this undefined relationship stumbled into existence. You tried not to take it personally. You’re both adults, if he doesn’t want to stick around for pillow talk, you won’t fault him for it. 

His eyes sear through your being. 

“You’re going to Illij.” 

You blink, thrown off by the flat delivery and the intentions it conceals. He’s either painfully blunt or cryptic in his word choice. It’d be nice if he could find a middle ground between both extremes, but that’s wishful thinking. 

With unusual impatience, he adds, “Alone.” 

Ah. 

A certain magenta-haired beauty’s previous words resurface in your mind. 

“—Alone? Not taking Bladie along for the ride?” she had tutted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.” 

You thought she was teasing, as she’s wont to do, yet your developing dilemma proves otherwise. That, or you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the truth in her words. 

Whilst shifting your weight from one foot to another, you meekly reply, “Kafka gave me permission.” 

He has the audacity to roll his eyes at you. 

“Permission, huh?” 

The condescension corrodes your former sheepishness. 

Placing a hand on your hips, you reply, “That’s the word I used, yes.” 

Your room pulsates with palpable tension. He stands to his full height — having been seated on your bed’s edge — sauntering over like a cat poised to pounce. You cross your arms over your chest as the distance shrinks. He’s yet to fully dress himself, wearing only his signature gray pants. His bare torso is marred with innumerable scars that vary in length and angle. Every time you both succumb to the heat of passion, his bandages occupy a new spot, depending on the circumstances of his latest battles. Presently, the cloth coils around his midsection and upper left arm. 

He’s close enough now for you to notice the latter unraveling. 

It isn’t anything logical that urges you forward. The sentiment resides deep in the recesses of your psyche, unsuccessfully shoved down by denial and trepidation. This formless substance takes shape as you meet him halfway. Blade towers over you. Given the massive gap in your abilities, you should fear him, but you know your pounding heart isn’t spurred by negative emotion. 

Much to his perplexity, you set aside the nascent quarrel, focusing your attention elsewhere. Nimble fingers resecure the rebellious cloth. 

“You’re terrible at taking care of yourself,” you mutter. “Honestly, what am I s’posed to do with you…?” 

It’s subtle, but this shift in tone relaxes his muscles. That is, until you admit: 

“I don’t like you being my bodyguard.”

Confusion contorts his countenance, then something more raw; something dangerously intimate. 

“I don’t like seeing you get hurt because of me,” you continue, lowering both your voice and head. “It’s… it’s awful and— and then— you don’t even care!” 

Hoping to avoid further humiliation, you stop there, taking deep breaths to prevent tears from flowing. This wasn’t the direction you wanted the evening to take. You wanted to take a bath, dip into a game Silver Wolf wouldn’t stop raving about, and then prepare for your imminent trip. The trip that’d put thousands of lightyears between you and a man whose blood spilled for your sake could rival an ocean. 

“I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve got Silv’s disguise software and she knows how to track me. So — I don’t know — take it easy, or something. You’ve got the month off.” 

His response is immediate. “I can’t.”

“Wh— did you not hear anything I just said?” you sputter. 

“I heard,” he confirms. He raises his hand to the bandage you rewrapped, as if trying to savor your lingering warmth. “When you’re gone, I cannot ‘take it easy.’” 

Blade uses your stupefaction to his advantage. He takes your much smaller hand into his and places it over his heart. It thumps at a slow, steady pace, like it hasn’t been obliterated and formed anew thousands of times. Your fingers twitch. His body, though colder than the average person’s, emits just enough warmth to indicate life. You feel the raised, textured skin that’s present above his every vital organ. It speaks of untold horrors; untold suffering. 

His chest rumbles as he says, “If I’ve no choice but to live… you’d make for a worthwhile reason.” 

You rest your forehead against his chest and squeeze your eyes shut. 

Kafka… are you sure it isn’t my feelings that’re in the most danger? 

A/N: owing to mental illness, aside from nexus, i devised another storyline for (slightly) less unhinged blade, this time with a stellaron hunter reader. while it has the material to make a series, i don't plan on starting up another multi-chaptered work until i make further progress into my current project 😭 still, i'm happy to talk about it if anyone's curious! here are some tidbits that give additional story context for this universe:

reader isn't super thrilled to be a stellaron hunter. a desperate situation ended in them joining the ranks. they're the emanator of the aeon of illumination, whose name i'm still undecided on. essentially, they're a 'consumer of stars,' capable of absorbing + storing well. you guessed it. stars. as you can imagine, this ability can provide immeasurable energy or devastation depending on its usage.

as a consequence, when reader's performing the sealing process, they're extremely vulnerable. it isn't exactly subtle, people tend to notice when their nearby sun is going cyaaaaaa ✌ and try to stop them. that's where bladie comes in. he kills anything and anyone that threatens them.

ethos is a pretty meadow planet that's known for harvesting clean energy (hydro, solar, wind) and using minimum technology. most of its inhabitants go their entire lives without ever seeing a computer. long distance communication is carried out through a dedicated fleet of carrier pigeons.

illij is a laissez-faire paradise. consumerism galore. ads projected in the night sky, ads projected in your dreams in certain low income areas where people can't afford space adblock™. it's a lot but sometimes reader appreciates the distraction.

[soraphic]

CHEWING GUM h. potter

synopsis: you and the golden trio believe nothing could come between your close bond, but when you and harry spend a drunken night cosied up in his dorm room you worry things won't be the same ever again.

genres: friends to lovers, one night stand

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, alcohol, drug usage

inspired by chewing gum - blood orange

You pursed your lips and surveyed the vast expanse of half empty bottles scattered across the oak table, settling on an untouched bottle of daisyroot draught toward the back. Pulling it toward you by the neck, while nearly knocking over about a dozen other bottles, you poured a generous amount into the yellow solo cup you had been gifted by a 6th year student trying to chat you up on the way in. You brought the plastic to your lips and relished in the burn you felt through your throat.

Hufflepuff had miraculously managed to win a quidditch game for the first time in months, beating Gryffindor 50-60 in the last minute. The win had everyone feeling cheerful and resulted in the hufflepuff players deciding to invite many of the Gryffindor players to the celebration in good sport, which of course meant you and Hermione tagged along as plus ones to the two losing idiots you had since lost in the packed common room and stream of yellow and orange lighting.

Upon closer inspection you realised you could see a mess of orange hair through the crowd and made your way toward it. Holding the neck of the bottle tightly, you pushed and shoved through many sweaty,grinding bodies until you reached a small pocket of air where two of your close friends sat between a few ravenclaw students, passing a half burnt roll of green looking paper.

"(y/l/n)!" Ron dragged out, grinning up at you with low eyes and patting the empty space on the small sofa next to him. "Where've you bloody been?"

Raising an eyebrow you begrudgingly sat down,"getting a drink." you replied,"I see your celebrating your loss."

He frowned at your comment,red eyes closing impossibly further and you wondered if he could even see you. "Hey, it was close! Those huffle-twats wouldn't have stood a chance if Harry didn't get taken out by that bloody bludger!" he grumbled, crossing his arms and nodding toward the boy across from you.

You laughed and turned toward Harry, noticing his similar state while he sat there laughing to himself at almost nothing. The kind of silent, hyena looking laugh when there's no more air left in your sore lungs to make any sound. Turning back toward Ron, you really laughed this time,"Is he high?"

Almost like he hadnt noticed previously, Ron squinted at the ravenhead and then similarly burst into howling laughter,throwing his head back against the edge of the sofa and clutching his stomach. Harry only began laughing harder because of this, leaning forward with his elbows to his knees and nearly shaking his glasses right off his nose.

Your head was flitting between the two, extremely amused, until a familiar scoff was let out from beside the three of you. "Honestly, the two of you are going to get us expelled!" hearing the voice,Harry's head shot up,widely opening his eyes in an attempt to look like he had any clue what was going on, while Ron sat still looking rather guilty. You smiled, tucking a wild strand of curly hair behind the girls ear,"Relax,'mione. It's only a bit of weed."

Swatting your hand, she grumbled and crossed her arms over her chest. "The usage of drugs or alcohol within the castle is strictly prohibited."

Harry began to snicker and Ron followed, the two of them bursting into synchronised laughter once again.

"What's so funny?" she snapped and you sighed.

"They're not going to take you seriously right now. You can berate them all you like tomorrow,but now-" you grinned,lifting up your bottle, "-you should try to relax a little."

Her lips were pulled into a thin line,eyeing up the bottle you were shaking in front of her with a glint in her eye. she chewed at her bottom lip for a moment before huffing,"Sod it,fine!" snatching the bottle from you and taking a swig, gagging at the horrific taste it left in her mouth.

Hours later the two of you were swaying slightly, the empty bottle discarded where the two of you had left the two boys, practically sleeping, as a result of the herb they had consumed. You and Hermione now found yourselves at the centre of the dance floor, surrounded by blurred faces and moving bodies. Hermione was doing her best attempt at dancing but was really just jumping around on the spot,though you praised her effort despite her complete lack of rhythm. Shouting over the loud music, she leaned in to you,"This is the best time I've had in ages! I wish Harry and Ron could see this!"

You laughed,taking her by the hand and spinning her,moving your own body in time with whatever cheesy teenage song was playing from the cassette beside the two of you. "You should go find them!" you shouted back, "Ron wouldn't believe this if I told him!"

She nodded,"You're right! Come with me!" but you shook your head.

"I'm gonna stay here for a minute,this is a good song!" you replied, making a show of rolling your body in tune with the new one beginning to play. She nodded, giving your hand a tight squeeze before letting go, shouting that she'd be back soon before disappearing between everyone and leaving you to soak in the remnants of alcohol in your system alone.

Feeling the warmth, you continued to sway to the music, a small smile on your lips at the euphoric feeling. Unexpectedly, you were met with the face of a familiar brunette in front of you, beaming at the sight of you so carelessly enjoying yourself.

"Harry?" you furrowed your eyebrows, a rather large grin taking over half your face, "I thought you were still knocked out!" you laughed, grabbing him tightly by the shoulder and forcing him to move with you.

He moved in toward your ear so that you could hear him over the noisy common room, the tips of his shaggy hair tickling your cheek, "I slept most of it off."

Taking advantage of the close proximity you wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, a common custom for the two of you when in places like these, except this time when he placed his hands on your waist, nimble fingers massaging small circles into the exposed flesh, everything felt different. Brushing it off, you shouted back; "I'm not surprised, you were totally gone!" laughing melodically with him.

You wondered if it was just a result of the high you were feeling, but judging by the way you had been catching his eye across tables and rooms lately you knew it was something much more intricate than that. Upon hearing his breath hitch at the way your fingers moved to wrap themselves in the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck,you knew he felt it too and decided to toy with him a little. Leaning in close and letting your lips graze his ear, you pulled his chest to bump yours; "I'm not drunk enough, do you wanna help me find another drink?" and you felt him nod against your cheek.

Grinning from ear to ear you took him by the hand, leading him back to the large table of drinks and positioning him behind you, surprised by the way his hands naturally found your waist and gave a small squeeze while you pretended to be completely interested in the table in front of you. You jumped a little when his breath met your ear, using his chest against your back to nudge you slightly in the direction of a half empty bottle of red current rum; "That one."

You hummed, bending over the table and nearly bumping into him while you reached for the bottle, though you found your arm wasn't quite long enough to reach it. You stretched, fingers just barely touching the cap of the bottle; "Harry!" you whined, and he laughed at how child like you sounded, leaning over you to grab the bottle by the neck himself and pour a decent amount into a cup for you.

You took a sip, humming and fumbling for another cup when you noticed the fact he didn't pour himself one, but he stopped you with a hand to your wrist; "I'm alright, I still feel pretty high." and you nodded, finishing off the rest of your cup and pouring yourself another.

Harry was watching you intently, his head dipping slightly to get a good look at the side of your face and you would've felt scrutinised if you didn't know him and his observant self so well. He was assessing you, but you didn't know what for, although too buzzed to care.

You finished drink after drink and eventually time blurred, but you knew you had gotten yourself into some serious shit when you found yourself kneeling in just your underwear on the floor of a dormitory you knew oh so well.

Harry was splayed out above you, one arm resting carelessly against the bed,propping himself up on his forearm, while the other was lost in your hair. He was rubbing soothing circles into the back of your head with his palm, guiding you slowly from the very tip of him all the way to his balls and back up again once more in fluid motions. There was a thin layer of sweat covering him, reflecting off the moonlight shining in from the open window, casting a blueish hue over him and reflecting from his glasses. He looked radiant, almost godly. Lips forming a small 'o' and his breath leaving him in gentle sighs while he watched your work intently, letting his heavy head bob to the side as a result of his intoxication.

You slid your way back up to the tip, unlatching your lips momentarily to swirl your tongue over the growing beads of precum before dropping back down again.

He licked his lips, guiding you right until your nose was touching the short tufts of hair at the base and you let out a faint gag: "Good girl. All of it." he spoke softly, despite his slow and antagonising actions. His words left your brain reeling, almost sober enough to wonder about his experience, but the delicious feeling of his warm cock filling your mouth had you focusing on better things.

Desperate to speed along the process (and see more of this secret talent he had been previously hiding from you) you released him from your mouth with a pop and began to climb up his body, but he stopped you with a pull of your hair, placing your mouth back on him. "I'll give you what you want,doll. Just keep being good f' me hm?" his voice was dark in a way you had never heard him speak before, despite his tone being so soft he was utterly dominating and you felt obliged to please him

Arching your back for him, you continued with your work, bobbing your head on him desperately to help him finish. He ran his hand along your head, effortlessly gathering your hair and grasping it at the base. He let you continue until satisfied, watching your back arch further at his praises, pitying the way you must have been dying for his touch, then pulled himself from your mouth.

Lifting your chin, he ran a thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the saliva and pushing it carefully back into your mouth. He was being so careful, which you recognised as the Harry you had known all this time, despite the change in circumstance. His change in demeanour though was making your head spin, watching the furrow between his eyebrows while he gazed at you with an adoring look in his eye.

"You like when I tell you what to do?" he asked and you nodded eagerly. He chewed his lip for a moment, deep in thought, before wrapping an arm around your torso and pulling you level to him for a kiss. Moaning at the sudden action, you squealed into his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue past your lips and silence you.

During the heat of the kiss you hadn't noticed yourself being dragged backwards until your head hit the mattress behind you and Harry's broad chest came into contact with your perked nipples. "Stay still." he muttered between kisses, kissing down your neck to your navel and across to your right breast, taking your nipple into his mouth and suckling for a few moments before you were practically pushing his head down the rest of your body. finding himself between your legs, he carefully peeled away the only item of clothing you were still wearing and hummed at the sight of your wetness clinging to the fabric. you groaned his name and he kissed your inner thigh,"Patient."

The moment his mouth touched you your back left the mattress, crying out while he licked at you eagerly. With two hands secured around your thighs he held your ass down against the mattress, diving further into you and using his tongue to fuck into your hole while you squirmed. He licked a long stripe from there to your clit, mouthing the bundle of nerves and sighing into you: "You have no idea how long i've wanted to do this." in his pussy drunken, dazed state, though you caught it.

Your cries reached a new pitch and he knew you were close, waiting just until your legs began to tremble to stop completely and sit up on his knees, using the back of his forearm to wipe his mouth. You propped yourself up on your elbows, shooting him a nasty glare while he situated himself between your legs. He took hold of your face, squeezing it firmly between his thumb and fingers and smirking at the way your irritated look melted into one of submission as you gazed up at him. "I told you,patience,doll." he let go, spreading your legs impossibly further while he slid himself through your folds a couple times, "'not being a very good girl now, are you?"

You whined at the lack of praise you so desperately wanted, grabbing his wrist and causing him to look at you, his big blue eyes questioning. "please,i'll be good!"

"Please what?" he cocked his head at you, teasing.

"Please fuck me, Harry." the way it rolled off your tongue so effortlessly should've been a sign to the both of you this was not a strictly friendly transaction, but Harry still had to stop himself from letting his eyes roll into the back of his head at the sound of you whining his name.

He took a hold of one of your legs, bringing it up to rest against his hip and pushed into you. you cried out, throwing your head back against the mattress and nearly sobbing at the burning feeling of him stretching you out in a way you never had been before. Noticing your discomfort, but unable to stop himself completely, he retracted slightly ,which you were sure caused a tear to drop from your eye, and slowly pushed himself inch by inch until you were taking all of him. "Jesus christ,Harry." you winced and he smiled down at you, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he began to roll his hips into you at a steady pace.

Within minutes he was speeding up in time with the vulgar noises spilling from your lips, pistoning in and out of you while his own grunts and moans escaped. Your hand was splayed out across his abdomen, carefully filed nails digging into the pale skin there and causing little red crescents to appear. "'s too much!" you cried, screwing your eyes shut and nearly burying your whole face into the pillow beside you.

Harry shushed you, leaning down and bumping your chest with his in a way of comforting you. He buried his head into your shoulder and you could feel the cool metal of his glasses digging into your skin while he used his free hand to grip your ass, pushing your leg up higher and hitting you from an entirely different angle.

His pace turned more violent, his hips bruisingly snapping against yours over & over & over again and you could tell by the burn in your muscles you would be in pain the next morning. "I can't!" you squealed,shuffling backward up the bed to try to escape him, despite not actually wanting it to end. He stopped you with a large hand across your middle, thumb jutting out to rub soothing circles into your clit. "you're a big girl, you can take it." he cooed and you shook your head desperately, makeup running down your fat cheeks and staining the white sheets below you.

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, ready to snap any minute and let out a gut wrenching cry, unable to open your eyes and watch the way his thumb was circling you, applying more pressure and he felt his climax building along with yours. "Harry,I don't-- 'm gonna cum!" you muttered on loop, utterly drunk on his cock with no sense to what was leaving your mouth in pleasured whines.

He only fucked into you deeper, kissing you passionately to silence your glass shattering moans he knew were about to ensue as he felt you clenching around him. in a few moments you were seeing stars, back arching off the bed and a muffled moan (scream) being let out into Harry's mouth.

He let out what could only be described as a whimper and you felt relief at the fact he was about to finish, sensitive walls quivering in the aftermath of your orgasm, waves still pulsing you through you while Harry was still merciless in his thrusts.

He pulled out rather suddenly and you felt a sting begin to settle between your legs, watching with bated breath as he jerked himself, strings of curses leaving him as his body twitched and spasmed; "Fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck~!" Finally, he was coming in long ropes over your stomach, painting your skin in his essence and forcing you to wear him.

You sighed and dropped your head back against the mattress, letting harry ride out his own orgasm as he continued to slowly pump himself, small spurts still leaving him with each pleasured grunt.

You allowed your eyes to drift shut and within moments your entire world went black, leaving only the sounds of Harry's heart beating out of his chest.

💌

You awoke the next morning to the persistent hoots of a rather obnoxious owl perched at your window and a nasty hangover.

You screwed your eyes shut, trying to ignore the creature, but it only seemed to grow louder. The sunlight pouring in from the open window was painting your face in a hue of sunny yellows and oranges and you were struggling to keep your eyes shut against the light. Giving in, you snapped them open and let out a sigh; the all white bird was sort of hopping about on one foot against the windowsill. You watched intently as it made a show of turning to its side, displaying its wings which were decorated in small, freckle-like brown spots. You recognised him and immediately and huffed; "Hedwig,shoo! get out of here!" waving your hand at him, but he didn't budge. he simply 'twit-twoo'ed at you rather aggressively and claimed his spot on the window, burying his legs in his feathers and sitting rather comfortably.

You rolled onto your back and ran a hand down your face. The stupid bird found delight in terrorising you and if it werent for Harry you would have strangled him one of these days. Upon the thought of Harry, you were surprised at his familiar scent filling the room; freshly picked lillies and notes of something much sweeter, like treacle.

You quizzically open an eye, scanning the room you were in. Dread began to set in when you noticed, this wasn't your room. There was no Hermione filling the empty bed opposite you, no countless books and parchment and quills scattered atop the mattress and certainly no crookshanks pawing at the tassels on the edge of the blanket.

Instead, there was a red and yellow striped, rather tattered,old blanket screwed up at the end of the unmade bed; guarded by a large..mouse?; but your eyes finally settled on the square,knitted pillow leant against the pillows. It was red, accompanied by yellow trimmings along the edges and a big,ochre 'R' sewn into the middle.

Your stomach lurched at the thought of Ron being in the room, but turned your head slowly to discover Harry sleeping peacefully beside you, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted, chest rising and falling with short breaths leaving him. Your eyes must have nearly burst out of your head, taking note of his shirtless apparel and diving under the covers upon the realisation you were also in missing of your clothes.

Your mind was running at a million miles per hour, thoughts mostly self loathing but also a few slightly relived at; the fact it wasn't Ron, and delighting in the fact perhaps maybe you had wanted to do this for a while now.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and practically threw yourself to the edge of the bed, scanning the floor for any item of clothing you could shove on and make your leave.

Harry stirred beside you and smacked his lips a few times,eyes fluttering open while you looked nervously at him over your shoulder. He allowed his eyes to focus slightly, despite his impaired vision, and just managed to make out a female figure perched on the edge of his bed. Mortified at the fact he had zero recollection of bringing a random hufflepuff back to his dormitory, he shot out of bed and grabbed for his glasses laid on the nightstand, shoving them on his face and blinking a good few times before his jaw seemed to drop even further.

You let out and irritated sigh, going back to searching and spotting your black, pin striped blouse along the floor, shoving your arms through it and starting work on the buttons.

"Did we..?" Harry trailed off, nervously drumming his fingers against his leg.

"Appears so." you snapped, giving up on the last 3 buttons and leaving the blouse to hang slightly open while you searched for the skirt you remembered wearing.

"Should we.." he paused and wet his lips,"y'know..talk~"

You sharply cut him off;"no." to which he awkwardly nodded to himself, despite the fact you couldn't actually see him, and looked down at his lap, muttering 'right,right' in agreement.

You were shoving your skirt up your thighs and Harry nearly leaned over to get a better look at the exposed skin. He could briefly remember the feeling of having the plush skin clenching around his head, but the memories were still foggy as they came back to him. He reckoned you were similarly beginning to remember the night as you were fumbling with the zip, gazing off out the window and chewing at your lip.

Growing irritated at being unable to dress yourself, you began pulling violently at the tiny zipper and muttering curses. Worried you were going to break the miniature thing, Harry shuffled a little closer to you and you snapped your head to face him with a cautious look on your face. He held up his hands, as if to show you he only wanted to help, and made quick work of pulling the zipper carefully over you hip, smoothing out the creased fabric after. "Thank you." you muttered, but he caught it, offering you a small smile in return.

Deciding to abandon your tights, you lifted yourself from the bed and collected your boots under your arm, smoothing your hair and shoving any knotted strands behind your ear; leaving Harry stark naked on the bed.

Planning to make your leave, you managed to get around 3 steps from the bed before Harry had a hand on the small of your back; "Hang on, what are we going to tell Ron and Hermione?"

You thought it over, knowing how upset they would inevitably be if they found out what the two of you had done, but also equally upset if you kept it from them. Deciding it was for the better, you turned back to him and shook your head; "we don't."

He thought it over himself for a moment and inevitably came to the decision you were right. it wouldn't be wise to tell them and have them be angry over nothing, especially knowing how petty Ron could get. It would blow the entire thing way out of proportion to involve your two closest friends, as you two were the same. Just friends, who happened to end up in a very odd situation at a very odd time.

You gave him a curt nod, marching toward the door and swinging it open, gasping at the boy in front of you. Ron was standing at the door, ruddy cheeks and disheveled hair, absolutely hanging. You were speechless,feeling as though you'd been caught, until Ron simply groaned a 'Morning' at you and tried to shove past you into the room. You were relieved he was so hungover he was taking no notice of you, sneaking your way out of the door and shutting it behind you, tip toeing off through the corridors in search of your own dormitory.

That left Harry, nervously awaiting some sort of questioning from Ron, covers pulled right up over his lap and a worrisome look on his face. Ron, however, was collapsed, face down on his bed, letting out heavily dramatised noises into the pillow.

Harry held his breath and watched as Ron's head seemed to suddenly shoot up, turning to narrow his eyes at Harry, who felt like he was about to crap his pants. There were a few moments of pained silence before Ron spoke; "How come (y/n) was here?"

Answering almost too quickly, Harry lied through his teeth; "She was sick last night. I brought her back here and put her to bed."

Ron lifted his chin and gave a small 'oh', sealing that he believed the lie and Harry relaxed against the pillows in relief. Though, thinking for a moment, he pursed his lips. "Hang on, where were you?" he pointed at the redhead, who suddenly went rather red in the face, pointing at his own chest.

"What,me?" he stuttered and Harry knew there was so much more to this, smirking slightly at the realisation Ron had been in a similar position last night; "I,uh, stayed in 'mione's dorm." upon the shocked look on Harry's face, he added; "she was sick, too. Guess they both drank a bit too much daisyroot draught." with an awkward laugh and a wave of his hand, waving Harry off.

Nodding slowly,totally unconvinced, Harry smiled; "Yeah, at least they both had a great night, though." and Ron nearly boiled from the inside out at the implication.

not proof read because.. when does clem ever proof read anything? not 100% happy with this either, just wanted to put something out as i've been back in the swing of writing again recently and desperately trying to finish off some peter fics!!

[muwapsturniolo]

✯FreshLove for the fit PT4 ✯

pt1 pt2 pt3 mww1 mww2 mww3 mww4

summary: Chris joins his girlfriend while streaming.

warnings: NSFW CONTENT. making out, fingering, pussy slapping, facial slapping, oral (m receiving), sex. dom! Chris, vibrator, live streaming. if I forgot anything let me know.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Chris grunts as Y/n tries to get off his lap, using his hands to keep her in place. The two were in her living room on the couch, making out for what felt like hours. They have been dating for a few months now, keeping their relationship a secret from socials and certain friends.

"Chris, I told you I can't be with you all day, I have to work."

Work, aka streaming.

Chris isn't oblivious to her line of work, that's how they met and started dating. He didn't care about it, in fact he loved it. He would occasionally watch her streams, getting off to her moans and the way her body moved.

"Go do your stream then, I'll wait right here."

Y/n huffs at his stubbornness. She wasn't embarrassed or ashamed of her job, she loved it, but she was all about respect. She didn't want to make Chris uncomfortable in any way shape or form. She raised her prices for personal sessions, she only streamed at night, and she made it clear to Chris to tell her if he started getting uncomfortable.

"Chris... I'm not leaving you in my living room while I stream." He shrugs and starts rubbing small circles on her hips, looking over her body. She was wearing one of his shirts that she cropped herself, underboob showing. She had on the tiniest pair of shorts, the orange material leaving little to imagine.

"Well I want to spend time with you, I have the next two days free and I told you I was spending them with you." He begins to kiss along her neck, her hair tickling his face slightly. She cranes her head to the side, giving him more space to leave the incoming hickies.

She doesn't want this to stop, if she could ditch this stream, she would in a heartbeat, but she knew she needed to do her job. Suddenly, an idea, a bold one, pops into her head.

"You wanna watch?"

Chris stops kissing at her neck, pulling away to get a good look at her. "What do you mean? like on my phone?"

She moves off his lap, walking towards the stairs. "No, I mean in person."

"You'll let me?'' She notices the glimmer in his eye and says nothing, ascending up the stairs. Chris flies off the couch, racing up the stairs to reach her. She's standing in front of a door Chris has eyed multiple times.

Every time he came over, the door was locked, the key never to be found. She unlocks the door and walks inside, Chris following close behind her.

He recognizes the room immediately, it's her streaming room. his heart begins to race as he looks around.

Y/n moves around the room, getting everything set up for the long stream ahead of her. After a few minutes, she walks over to Chris and pushes him down in a chair that's out of view from the camera. "Sit here and don't move. Don't even make a noise," she demands. Chris smirks, sinking down further into the chair, "Yes ma'am." She rolls her eyes and walks over to the bed, yelping when Chris lands a firm smack on her ass. She turns and gives him a dirty look which he just smiles at. She huffs and hops into the endless amounts of pillows.

She grabs the sparkly keyboard and taps away, loading up the stream. He watches as the monitor lights up and comments roll in.

"Hi everyone," he notices her voice is softer, much like the first time they talked. Her eyes scan the monitor, soft giggles escaping her mouth. "The hickies?" She eyes Chris before looking back at the camera.

"I have a special guest with me today, he won't be participating but he's watching." She pushes the keyboard away and swaps it out for a pillow, purposely hugging it close so her boobs are pushed up.

The stream continues, her chatting with the viewers about random things, talking about her day, etc. "You want me to take my shirt off?" she hums and begins to fiddle with the orange Freshlove shirt. "You guys know the rules"

Like clockwork, her phone blows up with multiple payment notifications. Chris is shocked seeing the payments roll in, he knew she got paid, but not this much.

She lets go of the pillow and slowly takes her shirt off, her boobs rippling slightly. Chris sucks in a sharp breath, adjusting his hips.

Chris is hard, painfully hard.

His girlfriend is sitting a few feet away from him, naked, and teasing both him and the audience, yet he can't do anything about it. Every once in a while she would tweak her nipples, talk about a new vibrator she bought, and even going as far as opening her legs slightly, showing the slick covering her folds, all while eyeing Chris deviously.

This was torture.

"I want to play now, you guys are no fun." She bats her lashes, pouting at the camera. She suddenly grabs a vibrator from the side of the bed and smiles. She turns it on and trails it over her body, teasing herself and the stream. She eyes Chris once again before turning back to the screen, "I think I'm going to be nice today."

She leans back, propping her legs up and showing off her glistening cunt. She puts the vibrator on her clit and immediately throws her head back in relief. She had a bunch of pent-up tension from her and Chris previously making out, and now it's being handled.

He sucks in a sharp breath as he watches her play with herself. Of course he's seen her masturbate through a phone, but seeing it in person is a different type of feeling. His hand slips into his sweats, stroking his aching member in an attempt to relieve the pain. He bites his lip, suppressing the groan wanting to spill out of his mouth, his hand moving faster.

His dick is throbbing at this point, leaking precum and pulsing under his touch. he watches with hungry eyes as his girl shows off in front of the camera.

"Mmf fuck!" She moans throwing her head back and grinding against the vibrator.

He can't handle it.

"fuck it"

He jumps up and rushes over to the bed, wrapping his hand around her throat and yanking her into a lustful kiss. She's in shock but doesn't fight it, both of them forgetting they are on a live stream. "You're working me baby, having me sit there and watch you play with yourself like a little whore." He growls as he pulls away from her. He removes his hand from her neck and grabs ahold of her hair, slapping her firmly. She whimpers but doesn't back out, "You gonna make it up to me?" She nods eagerly, always excited to please him. He grins at her, shoving her face in his crotch, "Go ahead ma, make it up to me."

Her hands move quickly, pulling his sweats and boxers down. His dick springs up, slapping his stomach, aching to be engulfed in her warm mouth. She grabs it by the base, slowly stroking it as she rubs the tip against her puckered lips. His precum glossing the soft pillows.

Chris yanks her hair harder than the first time, slapping her once again and starting to brutally fuck her mouth., "Stop fucking playing with me." She gags and chokes around him, tears running down her face and mixing in with the spit pooling out her mouth, mixing with the spit bubbles.

The chat goes wild seeing their favorite cam girl getting throat fucked by her boyfriend. They haven't seen her collaborate with an actual guy in so long, they were feining for it. They were sending in payments like crazy, her phone constantly buzzing.

She tries to slow him down, but it's no use. He goes even harder, making it a mission to bruise her throat.

"Come on, be a good girl and take it. I know you can." He pants as he feels himself getting close. He stalls in her throat, letting out deep and raspy groans as his hot seed spills into her throat. She looks up at him through salty tears, her body lurching due to her gag reflex. He pulls out of her throat, giving her no time to breathe, before he pulls her into a hungry kiss, not caring about his own cum being pushed into his mouth.

He pushes her back harshly, settling down behind her. He slaps her pussy a few times making her whimper and whine. He stops and runs his fingers through her folds, gathering her slick, "Look at you, making a mess and I haven't even fucked you yet."

He slaps her pussy once again making her close her legs, "Keep 'em fucking open. You want to show off like a whore, I'll treat you like one." He pushes her legs open, grabbing the vibrator that was discarded on the side of the bed. He turns it on and presses it on her clit, making her throw her head back onto his shoulder. He snakes his other arm around her front and sinks his fingers deep into her cunt.

Her back arches against his, her eyes fluttering shut. "You love this, don't you? You love being treated like a whore?" He grunts in her ear, his fingers moving faster.

"Answer me Ma, you like being my whore?" The lewd squelching noises and vibrations fill the room. "Fucckk! I love being you whore!" she answers, her hips chasing both the vibrations and his fingers. He hums and kisses along her neck, still driving his fingers in and out of her.

He turns the vibrator up by two settings, watching as her legs begin to shake, her toes curling.

"Oh fuck Chris!" She looks down and watches his fingers pump in and out of her, the cream pooling on the slender digits.

She feels herself getting close, dangerously close. She tries to pull it away but Chris stops her, holding her body and the vibrator in place. "Come on baby, don't be so shy. Show them what you do," he whispers in her ear, urging her to show her viewers his favorite action of hers.

She has never shown her stream that she could squirt, keeping it a secret, and now she's being forced to. He curls his fingers and that's the breaking point. She lets out a mix of a moan and a scream. Chris pulls the vibrator away, using his fingers that were once pumping in and out of her to swipe back and forth across her clit, aiding in pushing the liquid out. Her hips lift off the bed as her juices splash in front of them, landing on the pink blankets and monitor.

The chat blows up seeing her squirt for the first time, urging Chris to keep giving them a show of a lifetime.

He pulls his hand away, shoving his soaked fingers into her mouth. She gags but proceeds to lick his fingers clean, knowing their routine like the back of her hand. "good girl," he says pulling his fingers away from her mouth.

She has no time to recover due to Chris pushing her down face-first into the mattress. He lifts her waist, positioning her exactly how he wants her. Without warning, he slips inside of her. Her velvety walls suck him up just right, taking him in with no problem. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, her body jolting with each harsh thrust Chris throws at her.

She tries to pull away from him, everything becoming too intense. "Don't run from me, you know I hate it." He grabs her waist and yanks her back, going even deeper and faster. "fuck fuck fuck I ca-" she reaches back and tries to push him away, angering him even more. He grabs her arm and holds it against her back, using it as an anchor to drive his body into hers. Her body falls onto the bed, Chris now lying on top of her, plowing relentlessly. He wraps his hand around her throat, forcing her head up. He smiles seeing the tears running down her face, "Aww, is it too much for you?" He taunts as he switches his pace, opting for slow and hard thrusts that would knock the wind out of her lungs. She's unable to speak, only being able to make a noise. He wraps his arm around her neck, squeezing slightly and watching as she goes cross-eyed, drool beginning to run out of her mouth.

With the deep thrusts that were already knocking the air from her lungs, and her oxygen supply being cut off, she's over the moon. She looks into the camera, giving a wide and fucked out smile that shows she's loving every second of it.

"You can handle it, I know you can. Be a good girl and cum for me." He whispers in her ear, still pounding his hips into her. Her eyes roll back as her body convulsed under him, reaching her high once again. He groans feeling her walls clamp down on him, begging him to stay inside her. He kisses her shoulder blade as he pulls out, a popping noise being heard. He flips her onto her back, grabbing her jaw harshly, "You gonna give me one more?" The girl is so fucked out and delirious, she doesn't answer.

He gives her a swift slap to the face that makes her moan. He smirks and lets go of her jaw, pushing her legs to her chest and slipping back inside of her with ease. Her back arches off the bed, a wheezing noise being heard from her. He wastes no time and ruthlessly pounds into her, enjoying the way she mumbles incoherently.

The creamy residue sits at the base of his dick, some of it flying and landing on the back of her thighs and his abdomen from the thrusts. He could never get tired of the sight, it was something about visually seeing their pleasure that drove him to keep going.

Y/n feels like she's about to pass out. Of course she has done streams where she has gotten fucked or overstimulated herself, but not like this. She usually had time to cool down so her stamina didn't run out, but with Chris it was different, and she loved it. chris was always ready to pleasure her back to back, pushing her to her limits, and leaving her shaking, fucked out, and pleading for more.

Chris feels his second high of the night approaching. In reality, it's been there the whole time but he refused to let go until Y/n was damn near passed out underneath him. He hooks his arms under her legs, going underneath her, and lifts her off the bed, beginning to jackhammer.

She lets out a scream, this new angle making her see stars, her sobs and moans bouncing off of the room. Chris has never fucked her while standing up, hell she was never fucked in this position in general. "Almost there, just a few more," he encourages as he drops her to the bed, pushing her legs to the side of her head, his pelvis meeting hers.

Their bodies bounce up and down on the bed, his dick reaching the deepest it could go, even hitting her cervix at times. She's holding on to his back, raking her acrylic nails down the soft skin.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" She finally finds her voice to speak the four words. "Come on baby, I'm right there."

He rubs circles on her clit, driving her to her high. Her back arches off the bed, her body shaking as if an exorcism was being performed. Chris stalls his hips deep inside of her, painting her walls a milky white as he groans in her ear.

Y/n lays there, holding Chris with closed eyes and panting. Chris turns and looks at the monitor, reading a few comments as he comes down from his high.

"Isn't that Chris Sturniolo?"

That comment makes him freeze, his actions suddenly hitting him. He quickly stands up from the bed, pulling out of Y/n harshly. She whimpers from the sudden movement, her body sore and tired.

Chris quickly pulls on his boxers, darting toward her computer in the corner. His eyes dart across the screen, looking for the end button. He finds it and abruptly ends the stream, his heart pounding

He turns hearing Y/n whine. He walks over to her and picks her up, carrying her out of the room, and to her own bathroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up ok?" He mumbles looking down at her. She hums, allowing him to set her down on her bed.

As he runs the bathwater for Y/n, he only has one thought going through his head.

"I fucked up."

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

I'M SO SORRY THIS FIC TOOK 40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS TO BE PUT OUT😭 I JUST HAVE BAD WRITERS BLOCK WHEN IT COMES TO THIS FIC SPECIFICALLY!!! BUT THIS SERIES IS MY BABY CUZ I FEEL LIKE IT WAS THE ONE YALL ATE UP WHEN I FIRST STARTED POSTING SO I HAD TO BRING IT UP FOR THE ONE TIME!!!

THIS IS (finally) THE END OF MUWAP WEEK!!! THANK YOU FOR TUNNING IN!!! I LOVE YOU ALL!!!

XOXO, PEACHES 🍑

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @cassiopeialunax @mrssturnioloo @teenagetrash00 @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity

[themultifanshipper]

Oh my good your newest Oscar fic I am dead!! Also can he find out about her hidden toys :))

I'll be honest, I couldn't be bothered with a whole fic so have a blurb :3

Warnings: use of toys (duh), oscar discovering things about himself, mention of pegging

Part 2 of sorts to this

You finally tell Oscar about your secret box of toys.

Oscar is kinda jealous and possessive at first, feeling like he's been missing out and not taking care of you properly.

Him saying something along the lines of ‘throw them away , you're not going to need them anymore’

But one day when he's on the other side of the world somewhere, you send him a video of you going to town on yourself with them.

He's a wreck. He fists his cock in his motorhome's bathroom, obsessively going over the video over and over again, obsessed with the way you fuck yourself on your dildo.

You getting a text in the middle of the night “I changed my mind” and knowing exactly what he's referring to.

Oscar getting way too into it and after some experimenting decides he wants in on the fun, and soon your toys are used freely by both of you.

Him being shy about it for a while, always asking you if he can use your stuff (on you or himself it doesn't matter) and you noticing sometimes that a toy will be missing while he's away.

Then he'll come home and pretend he has no idea where it is but it always reappears in the box within a day of him being back.

Oscar going feral every time he thinks about you during race weekends because he's picturing all the things you could be doing to yourself.

Him sending ‘you up?’ texts and getting back a picture or video of you teasing yourself with a vibrator every single time, without fail.

He has a rapidly growing collection in a secure folder on his phone.

Him buying himself an actual dildo for himself to use when he's away and pent up because you pegged him once and he became a mushy mess after a few well aimed thrusts.

He may or may not become obsessed with your g-spot massager, using it on himself sneakily from time to time because after his first ever prostate orgasm, he became a bit too obsessed.

Sometimes it's fun to tease him by tying him to the bed and using the toys to make yourself come while he watches helplessly.

The most used toy is probably the remote controlled vibrator.

Oscar was immediately obsessed the first time you showed it to him. He uses it on you on those days when he's at home and wants to make you beg for him.

He'll tease you all day, bringing you to the edge at the most inopportune moments, like when you're cooking or doing laundry.

You'll feel the buzz, desperately trying to ignore it until it becomes too much and he'll turn it off, leaving you high and dry as many times as he wants.

The most adventurous thing you've done with it was wear it to dinner during date night. He made you come in a room full of people and no one had any idea what was happening just a few meters away.

His favourite toy is probably the bright orange vibrating plug your best friend got you as a gag gift.

Well joke’s on her, Oscar's favourite thing is having you on all fours with your ass high in the air and your pussy drooling down your thighs as he teases you with light touches and long licks.

Only when you’re begging like a slut for him will he finally fuck you, the vibrations from the plug making him go absolutely feral as he pounds into you, making you scream in pleasure into the pillows.

On of the best things ever is when he ‘catches you' in the act. It turns out he‘s quite into role play, and he'll pretend you've been a bad girl and punish you for pleasuring yourself without him.

Nothing is ever really a punishment with Oscar though, his idea of being mean is using whatever you were using on you, and making you come as many times as he wants.

Those are the times where you're really glad you told him about your collection.

[i7nn8a]

Synopsis: When Sukuna seems to have issues with your cat, or when Salem, your cat, proves to be relentless when it comes to you.

Sukuna never liked cats. Seriously. He’s a total dog person. But he never realized just how much these creatures unnerved him—until you arrived. His new concubine.

It’s been six months since you showed up. Your village offered you in exchange for mercy after some villagers angered the King of Curses. You were practically in tears when you came to him, begging—no, pleading—to bring your precious cat along. Salem.

If he’d known then, he’d have never agreed. But it was too late now. How could he get rid of the cat just because he was convinced the little demon hated him? The cat was huge, about the size of a small pig, completely black. Its eyes were yellow, almost orange. No, eye. The demon was one-eyed, with a scar running across its right side, nearly covering its entire face. It was utterly terrifying. But you loved it.

Nobody could understand why Sukuna indulged your every whim. And nobody could understand how you were the only one who didn’t notice. Nobody could explain why, since your arrival, he’d stopped visiting any of the other concubines, calling only for you to join him in his chambers. He even ordered your books to be brought to his property, giving you an entire room just for them. He let you bring the cat, which caused nothing but chaos—sneaking into the kitchen during meal prep, claiming parts of the castle as its territory, and refusing to let anyone near. It even brought you dead animals as gifts, something Sukuna secretly found amusing while you thought it was adorable. Yet, he said nothing. It was unbelievable.

Things seemed to escalate, however, when Salem became overly possessive of you, refusing to let anyone near—not even Sukuna. He couldn’t comprehend how such a small creature could annoy him so much. It started innocently enough, unnoticed by most.

One evening, you were in the garden, reading, with Salem lying beside you, unaware of the curse watching you from the shadows. Sukuna could swear he’d never seen a more beautiful human. Silently, he approached until you noticed him and stood to bow.

“Lord Sukuna, do you need something?” you asked, oblivious to the yellow eye glaring at you as you rose.

“What are you doing out here? I’ve told you not to leave the castle this late” he said flatly.

“I’m sorry, my lord. It’s just the moon…” You didn’t finish, interrupted by your cat climbing onto you, meowing so loudly it—according to Sukuna—sounded like a dying duck.

“Salem… Salem! Stop that!”

“Tch, just go inside, woman. Don’t irritate me further” he said, turning away, leaving you and your cat behind.

The moment Sukuna walked off, the cat stopped its antics and resumed peacefully resting beside you.

But Salem had crossed the line now. Not just by refusing to let others approach you but by actually drawing blood from the curse. After dinner, when Sukuna reached for your arm, the cat lunged at him with its sharp claws, slicing his wrist. Everyone—everyone—including you, was stunned. No one dared even look Sukuna in the eyes, let alone harm him.

Fearing for your cat’s life, you turned, ready to scold it, but the moment you moved, a wave of dizziness hit you, and you would have collapsed if not for Sukuna catching you. Forgetting the little demon for a moment, he quickly ordered Uraume to fetch the healer and carried you to his chambers.

When you woke, your head throbbed painfully as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Salem was locked in a cage with Uraume nearby. Sukuna, the four-armed king, leaned against the wall near the door, while the healer you’d seen a few times before examined you.

“Ah, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” the healer asked kindly.

“My head hurts” you replied weakly

"Well, you just fainted. It’s normal to feel some pain. I’ll leave some medicine for you, but I don’t recommend using it too often.”

“Why? Does it have side effects?” you asked, confused. You’d never been this sick before, and the medicine in your village rarely had any downsides.

“Not for you, but for the baby” he said calmly, packing his tools.

“B-baby? What baby?” you stammered, shocked.

“Wait... you didn’t know?” He looked between you and Sukuna. “You’re pregnant. Congratulations" he said with a small smile.

Your panicked gaze turned to Sukuna, who wore a blank expression. Fear crept in as you waited for his reaction. Finally, he turned and asked the healer, “When do you think it will be born?”

“Well, the pregnancy seems to be around three months along. Likely in another five to six months” the healer explained. “The fainting spells may get worse, so I recommend she rests for a while.”

“Leave" Sukuna ordered. The healer left quickly, followed by Uraume.

“I’m so sorry, my lord! I must have been careless. I didn’t mean for this to happen" you began apologizing.

“Be quiet, woman. You’re carrying my heir now” he said, stepping closer. “I can’t believe that damn cat figured it out before I did.”

“Huh? The cat?” you asked, still trying to process his reaction. He wasn’t angry? Why didn’t he seem angry?

“That must be why that furball’s been so possessive lately” he muttered, smirking slightly. “You’ll have to deal with it. That cat isn’t keeping me away from you or the child.”

“But... you’re not upset?”

“Should I be?”

“No! No, my lord” you stammered, lowering your head. “I just thought you might not like this.”

“I need an heir. It seems the time has come for one” he said, turning away. “I’ll have your food brought here. Rest and handle that abomination. Or I will” he said, glancing at the cat.

Maybe, just maybe, Sukuna didn’t hate the cat as much as he claimed.

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Four

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. - Gaz had been the only one to try and warn you. - ao3

previous

When you wake the next morning, Hans’ side of the bed is empty, the linens already cold.

As sleep leaves you in fits and starts, the aches pull you inward—glowing dull and orange like banked embers. Your whole body feels like a twisted ankle. Nothing is broken, exactly, but every muscle feels as if it’s been pulled in a direction God never quite intended it to move.

Your shoulders. The meat of your thighs. Your hips.

The entrance to your womb.

It isn’t the knife-sharp pain from before. Only the muted, persistent throb of a wound left alone to heal. In the cottony space between sleep and waking, you think there should be more damage—for all of what happened last night. And yet, there isn’t.

Still, you don’t move when your eyes finally open. Stillness seems the only defense against the bare truth of the gray morning.

Your husband used you hard on your wedding night, and did not care for the pain he caused.

You are not fool enough to think your experience unique. Women talked as much as girls did. Your mother’s friends were wont to complain when they thought the children out of earshot: husbands who grunted and sweated over them in the night, often without uttering a word. Sometimes not even waiting for the pain of childbirth to subside before claiming their marital due.

You just had come to believe, with every letter that arrived, that your fate would be different.

But it turns out none of this is a dream after all.

Your throat closes, then. Tears prick hot in the corners of your eyes.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You swallow hard. Sit up away from the pillows, even as the aches flare in protest.

Beside you, where your husband slept, there’s a noticeable dip in the mattress. Worn in over years of slumber, and you, you suppose, on Anna’s side of the bed.

Was Hans kind to her too, before?

Abruptly you swing your legs out from the linens, and go to find one of the dresses you brought along from home.

The house is empty when you descend the stairs, as far as you can tell. You hear the steady tick, tock of a grandfather clock somewhere in the sitting room that you hadn’t noticed yesterday, in all of the commotion of the wedding preparations. The floorboards creak beneath your feet as your grumbling stomach leads you along to the kitchen.

The space is as modern and well-appointed as the rest of the house, and bigger than any kitchen you ever imagined needed to be. A cast-iron wood stove with four burners and a large oven, a sink with a pump right there by the basin, and—you nearly stop dead at the luxury—an ice box, right there beside one long counter.

You momentarily forget the troubles of the night, crouching beside the little box in fascination. A cloud of cool fog descends when you swing open the door; you brush the tips of your fingers across the huge block of ice on the top shelf, jerking them away when the cold unexpectedly burns. Not once in your life have you ever seen so much ice in one place.

On the lower shelf, you find cuts of pork and beef, wrapped in brown butcher’s paper and tied with string. Bacon for breakfast, then, and biscuits if you can find flour. Your mother always said that a difficult thing was easier after having a meal.

You find the larder stocked with further luxury. Nowhere are the home-jarred goods that would populate your family’s pantry, garden-grown vegetables pickled in vinegar or hand-pressed jams fresh from the blackberry bushes along the road. Instead you find rows and rows of cans, factory-sealed tins of manufactured uniformity, colorfully labeled and containing everything you might have ever thought to grow yourself and more.

Beans of every variety. Corn. Carrots. Peas. Beets. Tomatoes.

How much must all this have cost? So many, and lined up deep into the back of the larder. You and Hans couldn’t possible eat them all before some of them began to spoil. Of course, if he could afford to buy so much, maybe that didn’t matter.

You find the flour, and baking powder as well. Breakfast is a quick affair after that, and thankfully so, as your stomach really begins to complain as soon as the food is ready.

There’s a small table in the kitchen—yet more luxury, you think, remembering the long dining table you saw yesterday—and it’s there you sit down to solve your hunger.

The hard wooden chair is not kind to the ache between your legs.

You bite into the bacon, crunching it to pieces. There—it’s all right. You have your breakfast. Isn’t that something to be grateful for? Breakfast, and a nice stove, and an ice box, and a kitchen so stuffed with food that you can’t imagine ever running out.

Isn’t this what a loving husband provides? A good home, for his wife to live comfortably in? Pretty dresses, like the one he gave to you last night? A nice ring on your finger—the little gem glittering in the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window?

Hans loves you. Of course. This is love.

You bite into one biscuit, hot and steaming from the pan and burning your tongue. Your mother can make them better, but you tried the best you could to follow the recipe she taught you.

The front door opens outside of the kitchen. Something quick and sharp travels up your spine. Heavy boots step inside—your husband, come looking for you—you freeze without realizing it, holding half-chewed food in your mouth—

“Mrs. König?” calls Kate Laswell, the foreman, and you relax.

“In here,” you call, after swallowing.

Laswell enters the kitchen, and turns to you, at the table. She’s dressed in mens’ clothes, dusty trousers and a heavy jacket over a button-up shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat still on her head. She looks like she’s dressed to travel.

“I’m afraid I can’t show you the accounts today, like I said I would,” she tells you, no preamble, no pleasantries.

You remember then your brief conversation with her the previous night—and Hans’ disapproval at the idea.

You set down your biscuit. “Good morning, Miss Laswell. Why not?”

“I’m going over to visit the Vargas place. We’ve been working on a leasing deal. I’ll explain when I get back.”

“Of course,” you say. “Would—” you clear your throat, embarrassed— “Would you know where my husband might be?”

The lines of Laswell’s face tighten. She has a severe look to her that you think is always present—ranch work must harden anyone, man or woman—but there is no wedding happening around you now to distract you from the unmistakable displeasure on her face.

“Last I saw he was out with the herd,” she says shortly. “Anyway, I’ll be gone for a few days. The ledger is in the cabinet by the desk. Take a look at it if you find the time.”

She tips her hat to you before you can figure out how to respond—some part of you bristles at being given orders by someone who is now, ostensibly, your employee—and leaves the kitchen. You scramble to follow her, and catch her when she’s nearly out the door.

“Miss Laswell,” you call, “is Hans—is my husband—”

You’re not very sure what you intended to ask her, before you began the question. Nor, you realize, do you think she could answer honestly, if you asked her what you really wanted to know. It wouldn’t be her place, and it would be inappropriate of you to ask.

If you could actually work up the courage to approach it.

So you settle for, “Is my husband angry with me?”

She stops, and blinks at you. You see her look you up and down, briefly, but when she meets your eyes her expression is impossible to read.

“I have no idea,” she says, and her tone betrays nothing. “Gaz wants to see you in the stables when you have a moment today. Ma’am.”

She nods farewell at you and leaves.

The steady ticking of the grandfather clock punctuates the end of the odd exchange. Disoriented, you return to the kitchen to clear away the remnants of your breakfast, flushing in confusion.

Do you really want this?

His question rings now in your ears. Along with it come memories of the previous night. The Madame’s odd interest in you. The store owner Miss Boucher’s sidelong glance at Hans. Myriad other quirks of the brow or mouth that you only now grasp the meaning of.

Everyone knew, somehow, what was coming. Everyone except you.

And Gaz had been the only one to try and warn you.

You tug on a shawl as you step out onto the front porch, breathing in the mountain air. The morning chill hasn’t yet burned off, and the sky has yet to gain its full color. Across the clearing, Kyle Garrick is at work in the stable’s corral.

He holds one end of a long lead, attached at the other to the bridle of a red-brown horse, which trots in a wide circle around him. Occasionally, with the lunge-whip he holds in his free hand, Gaz taps the horse’s hindquarters, redirecting it patiently whenever it tries to move inward or otherwise deviate from its orbit.

Horses are scared creatures, Miss, I don’t know if you know this, Hans had written. You must be gentle when you train them, or destine them to a lifetime of anxiety.

When you approach, the horse’s attention briefly turns toward you, but Gaz taps it again and it goes back into its pacing. You have a moment to admire the long line of the cowboy’s body, the focused angles of his shoulders and hips, before he addresses you, sensing your presence without having to turn and look at you.

“Good morning, miss,” he says. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you,” you say. It feels dishonest, even if it isn’t a lie. “Good morning, Mr. Garrick.”

The horse makes its way past you, and then Gaz brings it to a stop. He winds up the lead in one hand and makes his way over to you, meeting you where you stand by the corral fence.

You can’t help but notice how handsome he looks in the light of late morning. The serious expression on his face is the same one he’d worn the day before; you suspect it’s his natural disposition.

You remember the brief smile he’d shown you last night, before Hans had taken you away, and your cheeks warm despite yourself.

“I thought I might introduce you to the horses today,” he says. “If you’ve got the time, that is.”

“Oh,” you gasp, suddenly eager, “Please! I’ve been looking forward to it ever since Hans proposed! I told him about the two old nags we had on our farm, to pull our wagon, and he said—”

We must get you on a proper horse, then, to show you the true pleasure riding may offer.

You stop mid-sentence. Something about what Hans had written rings in your memory now with a different note. It seems…mocking, almost. Imbued purposefully with a meaning intended to escape you, given you had not the experience enough to catch it.

Shame blooms painfully behind your breastbone.

“…He mentioned he’d bring me to meet them,” you say lamely.

The smile Gaz gives you doesn’t reach his eyes. “He’s very busy, or I suppose he would be today.”

“I suppose,” you echo.

Gaz inhales deeply, and then he gestures to the red-brown horse. “Well—this here is Newt. I’ve been getting him used to the bridle today.”

“Hello, Newt,” you say to the horse. You reach a hand out, briefly, but then pull it back; your instinct is to let the horse get your scent, like you might with a farm dog, but you don’t know if you should. Your father had always handled the nags.

Gaz notices, and brings one big hand to Newt’s long face, squeezing the arch of his muzzle. The horse’s eyes droop in obvious pleasure.

“He’s a big baby,” says Gaz, expression gentling. “I’m trying to see if he’ll make a good cutter, but it’s too early to tell.”

You reach out again. Newt’s velvety nostrils flare as he inhales, and then his hot breath bathes your hand and wrist. You suppose you have his approval, because Newt simply works his teeth a little and makes no indication of displeasure.

“A cutter?”

“Yeah. The kind of horse that can cut a steer out from the herd so you can drive it someplace else,” Gaz explains. “Horses either got cow-sense, or they don’t. Here, come around inside and I’ll show you the rest.”

Long Mask Ranch, Hans had written, built its reputation on the quality of its quarter horses. In the early days of its inception, his father had struck an extremely lucrative deal providing the US Army with its cavalry mounts, which had turned out to be a perfect way for the ranch’s reputation to spread. Even after the army mostly withdrew from the region, every state in the surrounding countryside knew: if you wanted good horses, you went to Long Mask.

“These are the yearlings,” Gaz explains as he leads you through the stable. “Just now we’re getting them trained to follow directions. Won’t be riding ‘em for a couple years yet.”

He puts Newt away and beckons you to follow. In the neighboring stall, one of the horses pokes its head out over the gate. It’s a light-colored colt, yellowish in the body and white-maned.

“This is Gus,” Gaz says, scratching its fuzzy chin. “He’s a big flirt, yeah, aren’t you, boy?”

You also reach out to give Gus a pat, and the colt chuffs and butts his nose into your hand, proving Gaz’s accusation. You can’t help giggling a little.

When another horse across the building snorts, Gaz chuckles, and leads you in the direction of the noise. “Ah, yeah, and that’s Woodrow. Him and Gus are always goin’ at it, but you won’t ever see better friends.”

Woodrow is dark gray horse with a distinctly unamused face. He accepts a pat on the forehead with what you can only describe as resigned patience. Gaz feeds him a sugar cube from one pocket for his trouble.

He takes you further along down the line of stalls. You meet a spirited filly named Elmira, and a colt beside her named July whose love for her is unrequited.

“We’ve already gelded him, so it wouldn’t matter much anyway,” Gaz relates.

He speaks fondly of every horse as you meet them, with the familiarity of long days working beside each of them. It relaxes him, you realize, to speak of them—the hard set of his expression has softened, the serious line of his brows eased from their iron setting.

It makes him look—not younger, you decide, but properly his age. A cowboy just beginning the best years of his career, still hale and fit enough to meet the rough demands of the job, but with enough experience under his belt to confront any challenge with confidence.

Such confidence is obvious in the way he moves. He walks loose and easy through the stable, his every step as assured as the sunrise the next morning. The line of his broad shoulders, the swooping curve of his back—they tell you at a mere glance that home is in this place, working with these creatures, and there could be nothing more Kyle Garrick might long for besides.

Envy twists your intestines around its fingers. There’s an empty space inside of you that you’d been expecting, as your wedding vows had finally taken flight, to fill with that same feeling.

At the end of the stable, in a stall in the back corner, a horse pokes its head out over the gate. It’s bigger than the yearlings, with a pale face and a dark, gray muzzle. It looks right at you, with such a clear focus that it startles you.

“Ah,” says Gaz, when he sees. “Was wondering if she’d notice us.”

“She?”

He nods. “A mare. She’s…difficult.”

The mare stares at you, with deep, night-black eyes.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Gaz works his lips over his teeth. “Mr. König bought her last year off another rancher who was ‘bout fit to shoot her. She’s a thoroughbred, and she ain’t never met a white man she likes. As like to buck a man off as to let him ride.”

“Oh,” you say.

Gaz leans against the wall between two stalls. “Mr. König thought he might be able to break her. So far she hasn’t gotten him off her, but she won’t let him come near without putting up a fight. I’m the only one can saddle ‘er.”

You frown. “Why would he ride a horse that doesn’t want to be ridden?”

At that, Gaz’s eyes go cold. Shockingly cold, like an empty winter’s night. “Suppose he just likes taking what he wants, I guess.”

You should reprimand him. You know it immediately. It’s no way to talk about his employer, and certainly nothing he should ever say in front of you, his employer’s wife.

But you remember the blood, and still feel the ache. You have to look away from him, ashamed. Embarrassed.

You cannot defend your husband, and he must know it.

“I imagine he must know what he’s about,” you mumble.

Gaz gives a derisive snort. “I don’t know about that. He’s of a mind to start with thoroughbreds, but she will not let him breed her. Damn near killed every stallion he’s brought her to try.”

It hits you so sharply that you inhale with sudden pain, pressure knifing at your eyes. You turn away from Gaz entirely now, pressing your hands to your chest. Every ache from the night previous ricochets around inside you again, knocking all the way down into your bones.

You tip your head upward, as if it will prevent the gathering tears from falling. What’s worse, Gaz puts a hand on your shoulder behind you. You flinch at the touch, hips aching where Hans had bruised them in his grip.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Gaz says softly. He sounds like he means it. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He knows exactly what ails you. And why wouldn’t he? He’s known his employer for years. He’s worked this ranch for longer than you’ve even known of its existence.

He knew the previous Mrs. König, who first endured Hans’ attentions.

You are a terrible fool, and you are the last to know it.

He doesn’t remove his hand as you tremble. He squeezes you gently, the same caress he’d given to the young colt Newt. It is so kind that it nearly breaks you.

“Here,” Gaz murmurs, “let’s see something.”

You turn back to him; he takes your hand, and leads you to the back of the stable. The mare follows the two of you with her eyes, expression unchanging as you approach her.

Closer now, she is a stunning creature. You’ve never seen anything like her. Her coat is silvery-gray, with darker patterns all over her body, like ink absorbed into paper and then laid beneath a light rain. Her legs and mane are the same dark color as her muzzle, and there is a deep intelligence in her eyes as she beholds you.

“You might be the first woman she’s ever seen up close,” Gaz says.

He takes up a position behind you, and turns your hand over in his, opening your fingers. Then, slowly, so the horse can see it, he brings them to her face, pressing your fingertips to the soft whorl on her forehead.

The mare’s eyes do not leave you. She exhales a little through relaxed nostrils, chuffing, flicking her ears toward you. You play with the starburst of pale hair, following the direction it grows; her lids, heavy with thick, black lashes, drop a little.

“I’ll be,” Gaz murmurs behind you. “I think she might like you, miss.”

A loud BANG claps against the wall on the other end of the stable, and the mare jerks her head immediately, flinging your hand away. She grunts, snorts, and dances away from the gate, shaking her head, eyes flaring wide.

You and Gaz both look to the commotion—

Your husband stands in the open doorway, cast in a dark silhouette by the late morning light.

“Just what the hell are you doing?”

-

next

a/n: the horses' names are all references to characters in my favorite western, Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry.

[thefrogman]

Froggie's Mailbox Adventures

I have been wanting to tell this story for a while now. This all happened right before my birthday and then I got sick for 4 weeks and didn't have the energy to talk about it.

So let us take a trip into the recent past to hear a tale of woe and triumph with a bunch of extra woe interspersed throughout.

It all began on the 4th of July.

Some neighborhood rascals ruined my old mailbox with a baseball bat.

They also destroyed my brand new mailbox sensor that lets me know when there is mail so I don't have to make multiple trips to check.

(Ring replaced it for free, so that was nice.)

Originally, I was going to hire someone to replace the mailbox. But I was not having much luck finding someone who could do that specific task. (I've been having trouble finding help in general due to living in a supposedly "dangerous" area.)

So I decided to try and install the mailbox myself. And I had no idea how much of an adventure that was going to be...

My first step was tearing off the old one to see how it was mounted.

I got some paper and a sharpie and noted where the holes were. And, of course, they didn't line up with the new mailbox.

Which is a really nice mailbox. I mean, it is solid. Check this bad boy out and please don't notice the dirty clothes lying on the floor in the background.

It is always so tempting to save a few bucks and get the cheaper thing, but I am so glad I splurged on this. It looks nice. It functions well. It has magnets. And I don't think it can be baseball-batted without some instant karmic retribution from Newton's third law.

My next step was to get a new mounting plate. And even though I try not to go to Home Depot because it is run by a bunch of conservative religious bigots... I went to Home Depot.

I was a little nervous about leaving the house at the time because I was still struggling with my heart issue (which I think is mostly resolved now). I was trying to be very careful about how much I exerted myself. I really didn't want to have an episode while I was out and about.

After searching for a while I discovered they had a mounting plate and a pressure-treated mounting board. I could do wood or metal. And they were located on completely opposite ends of the store because of course they were.

I had both items in my hand and I did that thing where you just keep staring at something hoping a useful thought will pop into your brain. I had no clue which one was better for my needs. There is surprisingly little information regarding mailbox installation on the internet. YouTube really let me down on this one. I was just kinda winging it and solving problems as I went along.

I stared for for a little while longer and no useful thoughts happened.

I was tired of staring so I just said, "Fuck it" and made an executive decision.

Then I almost passed out in Home Depot.

I spent too much time walking around that gigantic monstrosity of a store and my heart started beating super fast and my legs felt like jello and I started getting quite dizzy.

I was in rough shape.

So... I had a little lie-down next to a wall of tape measures.

I just stared up at them thinking about all of the things I could measure.

I could measure a dog.

Or a horsie.

Or a horsie the size of a dog.

Then I thought, "Ooh, that one has lasers! I NEED IT."

My brain was not functioning at 100% in that moment.

After about 10 minutes of thinking about lasers and things I could measure with lasers, my body seemed to reboot and I was able to get up. Thankfully no one saw me and thought there was a dead body in the aisle or something. But that was still embarrassing all the same.

Once my heart slowed down I was able to pay and make it out to the car. I headed home and saw one of the most unusual sunsets of my life. The sun was dim and a shade of orange I have never seen in nature. It was like, cheeto orange. Not only that, it was a perfect circle with a super crisp outline. It didn't look real.

I tried to get a picture of it but when I looked at the picture later, the camera didn't capture anything like what I saw.

This is the best approximation I can manage. But it still doesn't do it justice.

I was hoping I could get home in time to grab my real camera and capture this strange setting sun, but it dipped below the horizon just as I pulled into my driveway.

I then started problem solving how to get the new mailbox in place with the items I purchased. And I was on a deadline because I have no clue what happens when the mailperson arrives and they don't have a mailbox to put the mail in. Do they just throw it on the ground? Do they get to keep the mail? Are they going to use all of my grocery coupons?

And for some reason, my post office does not keep a consistent delivery schedule. I've been trying to figure out a pattern for weeks and they just seem to come "whenever" and that is about as close as I can pin it down. Which is why I got the mailbox sensor.

Due to my near fainting episode in Home Depot, I was in no shape to be handy, so I was trying to think of a temporary solution to put the new mailbox on without properly mounting it. At first I was going to just wrap it in packing tape a bunch of times. But then I noticed I had a bunch of string. And I decided that was a more interesting solution... for reasons? My brain was still not doing well. But when I tried to tie the new mailbox to the post with the string it failed miserably. And I realized the packing tape wouldn't work either. The mailbox did not sit flat on the post and it wiggled. However, because I tried the dumb string method, I discovered this wiggle issue and it actually helped me figure out how to mount it.

I gave up for the night and decided to hope I could install the box in the morning before "whenever" happened. The next morning I started drawing dots on boards and comparing my old holes to my new holes and measuring clearances. (Measuring without lasers like a chump.) I needed to elevate the mailbox in order to mount it and that's when I thought to combine the board and the plate. I could screw the board into the old holes and then create new holes in the board for the plate to attach. And the plate lined up with the holes in the bottom of the new mailbox.

EASY!

It was a pretty big brain moment for me and I felt like I just solved quantum physics or something.

You're probably pretty confused because you are not as smart as I am.

Here is a diagram to help.

The board mounts to the post arm. The plate screws into the board. The mailbox screws into the plate.

Or just use string.

Also, how fortunate was it that I stared for all that time and got frustrated and just bought both things?

My next problem was that my drill wouldn't fit inside the mailbox and I couldn't screw the screws in place. So I drilled pilot holes in the board so I could manually screw in the screws with a ratcheting right angle screwdriver.

And the only reason I had one of those is because I use it as a fidget toy. (I like the clicky sounds.)

Another lucky happenstance!

I tried to prepare as much as I could in my garage before dragging all of my tools to the end of my lengthy driveway. I brought along my dad's old rolling walker so I'd have something to transport everything.

But also so I'd have something to sit on while I was installing the new box. Then I wouldn't have another heart episode and need another lie-down.

Seriously, how big is my brain?

I am like the smartest person alive.

So I got to the end of the driveway with all of my tools and my board and my plate and my templates and I realized something was missing.

The new mailbox.

I am like the dumbest person alive.

After a quick back-and-forth to retrieve the mailbox, I got started on my master mounting plan.

I screwed the board onto the post arm.

Then I screwed the plate into the board.

Then I lined up the new mailbox onto the plate.

But as I was doing this, I was kinda sticking out into the street a little bit. And usually that isn't a big deal. Cars can see me from very far away and they were just steering around me. But then two cars came from opposite directions at the same time and I was in a precarious position where I could not move. One car steered wide to avoid me, and for some reason, the other car decided not to slow down but to drive off the edge of the street.

And as they pulled this maneuver I heard a loud thump, followed by a loud pop, and then the sound of hissing getting farther and farther away.

Like a snake version of the Doppler effect.

They drove directly into this and popped their tire.

On the one hand, I felt a little responsible and guilty. On the other, it is not my responsibility to fix the street. And on a third hand, that was silly driving behavior and perhaps they will see this as a learning moment.

After processing what just happened I got back to the task at hand. To my delight and surprise, all of my planning and problem-solving was working. Everything fit together perfectly. The right angle ratcheting screwdriver was screwing in the screws. And after I tightened the final one...

I had successfully installed a new mailbox, on my own, without any jankiness or tape or string.

Like, I did this legit proper.

Tons of pure endorphins rushed into wherever endorphins go. (Again, I am very smart.) That feeling of accomplishment was pure ecstasy. I had no idea how to do this and in less than 24 hours I was basically an expert mailbox installer. I took some shots of my work on my phone so I could brag to Katrina, packed up all of my tools, and began to walk back to the house.

And... my heart started beating fast again.

And... I needed to have another little lie-down in the grass next to my driveway.

I stared up at the sky and was frustrated and proud simultaneously. A weird mixture of emotions. At the time I didn't know if my heart could be fixed. But thankfully I had my sense of accomplishment to temper my heart sadness.

And then I thought, "I should get a new address sign."

Epilogue time!

I got on Amazon and started looking up new signs. And I found one that was solar powered and lit up at night. So clearly I needed to have that one. My midnight food delivery people will never struggle to find my house again!

And it actually looked pretty neat.

(My address is not actually four 0s, but you are free to try sending me something.)

The sign was very easy to read... if you were super duper close.

But if you were farther away...

You couldn't actually distinguish the numbers. And it kinda looked weird next to the mailbox. And headlights made the numbers even harder to see. Which was the opposite of what I was going for.

So I opted to get a more traditional sign.

(Please send items to the realm of nothingness. I am in the void.)

But this bugged me because the sign was a different size than the old sign and the connection points didn't line up perfectly.

I HAD A CATAWAMPUS CHAIN!

WHICH IS THE MOST UNACCEPTABLE KIND OF WAMPUS!

It was at this point that Katrina started making fun of my perfectionism.

But this wasn't perfectionism for perfection's sake.

My Dad was having trouble fixing things around the house. And some other kids knocked over the previous, previous mailbox. And he found the strength to go to the store, get a new one, and install it all by himself. He was at the end of the driveway, attached to his portable oxygen canisters, and fixing one last thing for this house.

And I guess I just wanted to get it back to perfect. Because he never did any handyman task half-assed. He was a full-ass handyman. Always.

So... I fixed the sign.

Perfectly balanced.

Again, feel free to send me stuff to 0000 Road.

I'm sure it will get here... "whenever."

[dear-slim]

rescue me - m.m

Warnings: Smut, 18+, praise, tiny bit of degradation, choking, blowjob, oral (m and f receiving)

Pairing: Eminem x fem!reader

You didn’t actually have a lot of lines in the song, most of it was just repeating what Em said, or moaning. Not that you were complaining, your manager said this rapper dude was big, apparently, so you’d do the music video and the singing. It paid, anyways. 

You’d practised a few times with Em, and you’re voices had matched each other perfectly well, but the thing that could become a slight issue would be the music video. After all, you found Em incredibly hot, and, well, he’d be lying if he didn’t say you were damn hot yourself.

The set had a purposefully seductive setting, candles lit in the corner, in an all white room, a bed in the middle. You’d gone through the script for it, it was a simple concept, you’d start off against the wall, and then the scene would change to the room with the bed and then to the doorbell scene.

Em was, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be seen as you stood on the set, wearing the black lingerie-like outfit, a diamond choker round your neck and a loose white unbuttoned shirt hanging off your arms. “Hey,” a voice made you turned around, your breath hitching as Em strutted on, wearing his white top and jeans.

He almost paused in his tracks as he saw you, in the outfit he had purposefully asked the wardrobe to set up for you to wear, when he’d have you on the bed, all spread out for him, looking so pretty under him…even if it was just for a music video. Who knew? It could be the only time he’d ever have you under him like that.

God he was glad he’d chosen that outfit for you, you looked amazing…

“Hi,” you finally said, the crew too busy fussing over perfecting the set to notice the tension between you and Em as he leaned against the wall, slightly awkward. “You, uh, excited?” he asked, clearing his throat. “I guess,” you said, voice matching his own nervousness, a fake smile on your face.

Fuck, why had he chosen you for this? You in a sex outfit, him in his own hot selection of clothing, a purposefully seductive setting along with filthy lyrics…it was the recipe for a baby disaster. He nodded, turning his head to stare and watch the crew instead. He remembered all those nights in the studios.

All those hours spent with you, late into the night, thinking of lyrics…lyrics he knew would make your core burn with pleasure, when he’d been so close to getting you how he wanted, on his cock- his thoughts were snapped out by the director clapping his hands and gesturing for you both to come to the scene.

The video started off well, your eyes wide as you tried to maintain a natural expression, your body pressed to the wall, one of Em’s hands trailing one your chest, your stomach, your collarbone, before the director moved onto the bed scene. “We’ll film part two tomorrow, yes?” the director asked.

“Alright,” Em said, “I’m gonna stay in the studio for a bit, you wanna stay?” he asked you. You thought about it for a moment, mouth opening then closing before you settled on a simple nod, your thighs burning with need. You sat on the bed on the set, watching Em as he walked onto the other side of the room.

He didn’t look up, his eyes on his musical equipment, sliding buttons and clicking things, none of which you really understood, but god he looked good. The orange flicker of the candles illuminated your face from the bed, sending an angelic glow across you as you watched, legs clicking together.

You watched as he left to some room to search for headphones, and you just ended up going on your phone. It was probably gonna be like every other night at the studio. Painfully close to sleeping together, but him just ending up with his hand wrapped around his cock, wishing it was your lips, or your fingers stuffed inside your soaking core, wishing it was him.

“You look good, by the way,” a voice interrupted your thoughts as Em sat down on the bed beside you, one of his legs over the edge of the bed. “Thanks,” you said, “you’re decent too,”. He raised a brow, a slightly playful smile on his face. “Just decent?” Em smirked, running a finger down your jaw.

“Oh shut up,” you huffed, not moving away from his finger. You moved head slightly back so he could trace small shapes across your skin, over the diamond collar, down below it onto the top of your chest….further…further down to the material clothing your core.

You could feel the way your breath caught in your throat as his finger circled over the tight material, tracing small patterns onto the inside of your thigh, moving to your clothed core. “You’re soaking,” he said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as you closed your eyes, lashing fluttering against your cheek.

“Can’t even control yourself, can you?” he said, voice slightly forced and hoarse, and you could tell from that alone that his mood had shifted to a more…sensual sort of mindset. “How badly d’you need me?” he asked, dipping his head to press kisses to your neck and collarbone. “So bad,” you forced out, words slurring together in your need for him.

“That’s pathetic, Y/N,” Em said, littering your neck with kisses, moving to suck a deep red mark on your collarbone, visible to everyone no matter what you wore, “you’re supposed to play hard to get, you’re supposed to have me begging for your little cunt,” he slowly moved your lingerie to the side, running his finger through your folds.

His eyes travelled down your body, his hand on your waist as he took in every detail of your - from your gorgeous bright eyes, to your gorgeous body. His hand slowly met with your chin as he pulled you into a gentle kiss, his lips moving ever so softly against yours. God, the mood was about to change so damn much.

He slowly moved your lingerie out the way, not too much, yet enough for him to slip his fingers underneath. Your eyes closed firmly as you felt the pad of his finger, gentle at first, before picking up speed and roughness as he toyed with your clit, a smirk jumping to his face at the look of pure pleasure across your gorgeous features.

His lips hooked onto your neck, sucking softly as he left a mark, his large hand travelling through your hair before he pulled back, slipping his wet fingers inside your mouth. Your eyes rolled back slightly as he pushed to the back of your throat, a gagging sound muffled against the bottom of his fingers. “Good girl,” he whispered, letting your suck on his digits softly, before he moved his other hand down.

“Em,” you gasped, voice choked as he circled your clit, his other hand moving to push you down onto your back, your body bouncing on the softness of the mattress as he leaned down, half forcing your knees apart so he could sit between your legs, his eyes on your heat.

Your back arched, a moan on your lips as he tongue made contact with your clit, slowly circling it, his lips sucking round against your juicy folds. “Em, f-fuck,” you gasped, your hand moving to the back of his head, his tongue moving to your entrance as his nose brushed your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He hummed into your core, the sound vibrating through your body, your eyes fluttering closed once again as he fucked his tongue in and out of your entrance, curling round as much as he could, his lips shimmering with your juices. “Em, right there,” you pushed his head a bit, his nose hitting your clit once more.

“You’re needy,” he said, moving from between your legs as a whine of protest left your lips. God, he was so frustrating, why couldn’t he just give you what you wanted? “Whinging doesn’t get you anywhere, Y/N,” he said, his hand wrapping round your throat, the assortment of rings on his fingers catching the golden glow of the candles.

All you could do was moan at the squeeze around your throat, the pressure not enough to hurt, but to restrict your airway enough for Em to make sure you knew who was in control. It certainly wasn’t you, anyways. “Move,” he said, tugging on your neck as his other hand worked on undoing his belt.

You knew exactly what he was doing as he cupped your cheek, his belt sliding off as his cock sprung free against his abdomen, hard and thick. “You wanna touch it, hm?” Em smirked, the longing in your eyes only heightened as you watched his when slowly trace over the vein on the underside, pumping himself slowly.

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, leaning forwards as he sighed. “Still haven’t learn your lesson,” he said, but he didn’t move back, moving his hand so you could trace the vein with your tongue, a groan leaving his lips as he moved his hand to the back of your head, his other hand still on your neck, squeezing softly.

“Fuck, how many other guys have you done this too?” he asked, watching as you moved your to lick over his throbbing head, using one hand to slowly spread his pre-cum over his length, your tongue working on his head, slowly tracing it, almost tantalisingly slow. “Y/N, I swear to god, I’m gonna-,” he said, cut off by his own sharp moan as you took his whole head in your mouth.

Em had been the one deciding all the rules earlier, now you got your own control. A low hiss left his lips, rumbling through his chest as you took more and more of his length, inch by inch, your tongue swirling around the underside of his cock, a small bulge forming as his head hit the back of your throat.

You may have even wrong about you being the one in control, however, as Em moved his hand from your throat to bunch your hair at the back of your head, holding you how he wanted you as he rocked his hips, his tip snapping into the back of your throat.

Your eyes watered slightly at the intensity, the lewd sounds of your gagging only heightening his need for you. Finally, he pushed you back, his chest lined with a sheen of sweat as you scrambled onto the bed, your legs parting almost as if they were made for him, begging for his presence.

“Fuckin’ needy,” he groaned again, his eyes on your wet core as he ran a finger over your heat once more, extracting a string of whines, your back arching into his hand as he pumped two fingers in and out of you, the silk, velvety walls of your core wrapping round him easily.

You whimpered as he pulled hair fingers back, his hands either side of your head, veins flexing along his forearm as he pushed slowly into you, your moans and his groans combining into a noise of pure, unadulterated pleasure, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he held himself on you.

“Fuck, your so tight,” he groaned, his head falling down slightly, his forehead resting against yours as the heat of your bodies combines, his body shimmering with a thin layer of sweat over his intricate tattoos and muscles. “Move…please,” you managed to choke out, your hands moving onto his shoulders, squeezing softly.

“Fuck, anything f’you,” he said, voice deeper than usual as he started moving slowly, the moisture in your core making it easy for him to do so, slick and almost better then lube, his cock sliding in and out of you easily. “How the fuck are you so wet?” Em muttered under his breath, more to himself than you.

“That’s wh-what happens when a chick has someone l-like you on top of them,” you stuttered, voice slurred and diluted with the essence of your pleasure, your body shaking with ecstasy, and he’d barely even moved. “Yeah? How long have you wanted this, hm?” he asked, “how many guys have you fucked since we met?”.

“N-None,” you said, your cunt clenching round his thick member involuntarily, your eyes rolling back softly. “You better be telling me the truth, Y/N,” he said, his lips dropping back to your ear, tongue tracing the shell of your ear softly as you moaned.

You could feel your moans getting louder and more intense as the air thickened, the heat of your bodies near unbearable as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping into yours at an ungodly pace, your body bouncing with each thrust. At this rate, he was going to leave a mark.

Maybe more than that - there was nothing heard in the room except your moans and whimpers, his groans and the lewd sound of his thick cock plunging into your heat. A confused frown jumped to your face as Em moved one of his hands down, further down, trailing over the warm, exposed skin of your waist and thighs…

“Shhhh, sweetie,” he mumbled as his finger circled your clit, a squeal of shock escaping you. It was probably the hundredth time he’d done that during your little session, yet it never failed to being that damn hot expression of shock onto you damn gorgeous face.

“Oh f-fuck,” you gasped as Em ran a hand over the bump in your stomach, his cock bulging thick and big inside of you, slamming into your soaking wet core repeatedly, your body bouncing, his hand resting on your throat as he used his other hand to grope your chest softly.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve gotten off to just imagining you like this?” he groaned, his head dipping to once again speak into your ear. “Me too,” you whimpered, your hands moving down to his back, nails dragging sown his skin as you chased your orgasm.

“‘s okay, angel,” Em said, his voice dropping to a more soothing tone, contrasting the jackhammering pace of his hips immensely, “you’re close, yeah?” he asked as you nodded, your body shaking and hands squeezing at his muscles. “Please,” was all you could choke out as he nodded. “I know, I know,” he said, his voice soft yet still commanding the dominance he wanted to make sure you had.

You can feel yourself tightening round him, squeezing his thick cock tighter than you ever thought you could, eyes shut, lashes fluttering as your body shot into small spasms, your nails digging into his biceps as your orgasm flooded through, like a sudden shock to your system.

You could feel him getting closer and closer as he groaned, his pace speeding up, cheeks tinged a soft pink as his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier, a final groan on his lips as his cum shot into you in thick, hot spurts, spilling down your thighs as you kept your legs over his shoulders, both of you panting.

“F-Fuck,” he groaned, almost in shock at his own orgasm. “God, you’re s-so fucking beautiful,” he said a few seconds later, pushing himself up on his arms so he could admire how you looked under him, panting, spent, and perfect for him.

You hissed as Em slowly moved you to lay on his chest, his lips coming to press kisses to your foreheads, strings of praises falling from his lips. “So good baby,” he mumbled, “‘so fuckin’ good f’me,” his quickened breathing slowing down, as did yours.

time skip

It was safe to say the emotions filming the next part of the Superman video were very much real.

Tags: @tiny-gay-satan coz ur my no.1 hype kid and also @anjee0 coz you’re also my hype kid