#read that in a sponge bob voice

[f4iryfxies]

Eat him up while you have the chance!

18+ / blurb

“ being such a good girl fa’ me.. ” his voice rumbled lowly into your ear form behind, hips taking yet another act of notion to snap against the plushness of your backside. It ripped a gasp out of your throat - that quickly was silenced by his thick fingers pressing down on your tongue.

mouth hung open, lips slicked with saliva and the dripping syrup of your own juices; eyes rolling and opening and closing and fluttering with rapture. you could feel every inch of him with each thrust he packed into your weeping hole.

“ aren't you, love? ” john's voice once more met your ears, making you whine around his digits. you had wrapped your lips around his fingers, greedily sucking and threading your tongue through the center.

one hand moved from your hip, to your hair; makeshift ponytail making do as he yanked your hair back to connect eyes with you. your own were watery; pleasure filled and fucked out. the two of you had been going at it for an hour now. “ my good girl - hm? ” john smugly grinned, rolling his cock into you deeper. it pulled another stuffy moan from your mouth.

“ look at cha’.. ” he breathed, nuzzling his nose to the place behind your ear; hair tickling his face. his orbs never left your beautiful face as he whispered his dirty musings, “ you look like such a whore, darling. a filthy little bint. ” the man's mocking, deep laugh entered your ears, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut and keen a whimper in reply.

john didn't like that - he enjoyed watching your face. your eyes; the emotions that swirled in them. he couldn't see that due to your act of defiance and hated it.

“ mm-mm, ” his rough grumble seeded out, dangerous blue hues narrowing while he gave another yank to your hair. your eyes opened instantly, darting to meet his while you swallowed - your throat was practically pinching down to gurgle on his fingers by now. they were soaked in your little mouth.

“ you keep yer’ eyes on me, y’hear? ” john's eyes were so dark as he spoke, filled with a dominance you've never quite seen before. but you nodded nonetheless, the loose hairs around your face bouncing lightly with the movement of your head. he chuckled then, moving his hand to brush them away.

inhaling, john pressed a deep kiss to your temple. “ there... good girl. ” his praise had your heart pounding, “ now take m’cock like a behaved bitch, yeah? ”

[f4iryfxies]

I NEEEEED HIIIIIIM

[buntobeans]

spilled ice cream is a great wingman - venture x brother’s best friend reader

Nsfw utc. this is FILTHY FILTHY!!!!

Thanx venture’s burrow for this image..

amab sloan 

afab reader but is referred to with gender neutral terms (or at least as gender neutral as spanish gets)

you guys are both adults, just to clear up if anything seems uncomfy! i envision Sloan to be around 23 and you’re 21 :))

this is FILTH

like DESCRIBED FILTH!

wrote this on a plane sorry if it’s delulu or uncomfy or grossly described. I think I’m also sick.. also barely edited SORRRYYY also there’s like a severe lack of lube here sad face wahhh wahh ouchie 

More italics needed but.. WOMP WOMP!!!!!

i spent way too much time on this

i’ve taken like two classes of Spanish but hoopefully I’ve got it right.. I used the masculine form for some words because I wasn’t sure if I should just make a female reader but— hey anyone can read, regardless of their bits n bobs— let the punana in your heart be your guide <3

OK NOTES OVER!! LOVE YOU E-KITTENS!!!! IM GOING HOMEEEE AND SEEING MY DOG!!!

-

How the hell did you get here? 

Your thighs twitched as you struggled to clamp them shut, but the assured little hushes of Sloan’s voice and their large fingers prying your legs apart strayed you away from doing so. 

You opened your mouth and closed it, akin to a fish out of water. Forgetting what you were going to say, your words died on your tongue, shifting into small little whimpers as Sloan rolled their thumb over your swollen clit. 

“Doing so good, cariño.” They murmured, tenderly kissing your earlobe. “Mierda. Always dreamed of seein’ you like this.”

-

“Sloan!” You bounded up to your brother’s best friend as they plopped down the couch of your living room. 

“Hey!” They gave you that gorgeous, million dollar grin with their chipped tooth that you’d grown to find so attractive. Sloan instinctually opened their arms for you to leap into, giving you a small affectionate hug. “¿Qué onda? How’s it hangin’?”

“It’s good!” You cheerily piped. Your brother groaned at the sight of you unceremoniously interrupting his time with his best friend, but you ignored it— perhaps you stuck out a tongue at him and gave him a little side eye, but in Sloan’s eyes, you weren’t doing anything wrong! They’d defend you!

Your brother’s best friend. Sloan Cameron. The two had been friends for a while, so it was common for them to come over to your house to chill with your brother. Naturally, you found yourself acquainted with them, popping in to occasionally annoy your brother or include yourself in their conversations. While your brother was most irked by it, Sloan didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, instead treating you like a little sibling, often fondly smiling at you and ruffling your hair. 

Oh, how you longed for those eyes to gaze at you with a different kind of affection. 

You had the biggest crush on your brother’s best friend. You couldn’t help it— Sloan was so darn attractive with their messy brown hair and skin decorated in the occasional freckle, large frame walking around your house in shirts with the sleeves sloppily cut off, highlighting their muscle, and baggy cargo pants. You soaked up all the attention they’d give you like a sponge, eagerly awaiting them to come over to your house and hang out with your brother so you could brush your fingers with their larger ones while handing them snacks under the guise of showing them hospitality. 

But they never seemed to notice. So you kept your pining for sweet Sloan a secret, tucked away in the corners of your heart for your silly little crush to never come to fruition. 

“I’m going to the store to get some beer,” your brother announced, grabbing his keys and slipping on his shoes. “Need anything?”

“Hook me up with some ice cream!” Sloan yelled as your brother opened the door. 

Your brother left the house and it was eerily quiet, Sloan and you being the only presences in the home. You pulled yourself out of Sloan’s arms, suddenly flustered by the proximity— but, of course, missing their warmth. 

“We have ice cream. I bought some recently.” You piped up, hopping off the couch to skitter to the kitchen. 

Over your dead body would you admit you’d bought the ice cream with Sloan in mind. 

“Ooh, sweet! Haha. Pun intended. What flavor?” Sloan asked, eyeing you as you opened the freezer. They let out a little breath as they watched you bend over to find the sweet treat.

“Vanilla.” You answered, taking out the tub of ice cream, opening it, and sticking a spoon in it. It wasn’t like you’d documented Sloan’s favorite flavor in the archives of your mind… not at all. 

You eagerly took the tub and ran over to Sloan on the couch.

“It might be a little bit melted because it sat out but—“

You let out a yelp as you stumbled, the ice cream going flying. Panic set in as you realized you were falling. 

“Whoa, whoa! Hey there.” Sloan’s arms wrapped around you.

You swore all the oxygen left your body. Their arms were so big, so warm— you gulped, not daring to meet their eyes in fear of the chipped shit-eating grin they might be wearing on their stupidly gorgeous face. 

What you did look at, however, was their shirt. 

A mess of ice cream coated their body, and you internally screamed. 

Mortified, your heart dropped. “Oh my gosh, I’m so so sorry— I didn’t mean to drop it at all oh no no—“ Hot tears of frustration pooled in your eyes as your lips tugged into a frown. 

“Hey, hey!” Their voice cut you out of your rant and meltdown-in-progress. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine. It’s just a little ice cream.”

That was a TOTAL lie. They were practically drenched in vanilla. 

You wailed in embarrassment. 

“Ay, está bien. Don’t worry! I can just take it off.”

You gulped. You punched yourself in your mind for the lewd thoughts running rampant in your brain, searching for anything to distract yourself with, anything to reply with—

“Y-Yeah?” Fuck. You stuttered. “If you give it to me I can wash it—“

Stupid! Stupid! You were totally feeding into this! Thoughts of Sloan shirtless attacked your mind, and suddenly the room was way hotter than you’d recalled a minute ago. 

Sloan chuckled and your soul left your body as you watched them peel their shirt off, showcasing their toned body. They made a show of it, too, confidently lifting their shirt off their body. Holy fuck. Their body was no joke. Accompanied with a bit of chub, they proudly displayed a set of prominent abs. Tattoos of runes, sigils, and ancient gibberish you couldn’t understand (or maybe your head was too clouded to read) were scattered across their body. Their bellybutton had a little piercing and a line of hair trailed down their chest to a place you quickly looked away from before your eyes could meet. 

“Like what you see?” They chuckled. You cursed yourself internally. You were practically drooling over them! 

“No— I mean yes— I mean—“ You were so close to slamming your head against the wall. 

They handed you their shirt and you shakily took it, nervously clutching it like a lifeline to ground you to your surroundings. Thank GOD you were washing it, because you were practically sweating buckets into the fabric from your clammy hands. 

“So..? You gonna get off my lap, or..?”

Oh, just kill me already, you thought. Bury me alive and don’t let anybody see my body. Especially my brother. He’d probably laugh his ass off. 

You mustered the courage to stare at Sloan. They were so close to you, almost brushing their nose with you and—

Oh. 

“There’s something.. poking me..?”

It was Sloan’s turn to be flustered. Heat rose to their cheeks as they gazed down, met with their little “problem”. 

“Dios mio,” they gasped. “Don’t pay any attention to that. Lo siento, I am sooo soo sorry—“

You gulped. Was this really happening? No, but— what the hell? Had Sloan really gotten turned on from you sitting in their lap?

Gods. And they were big. Their hardness pressing against you— it wasn’t a joke. You struggled to pick up the pieces of your mind as thoughts flitted about— what would it feel like— what would it be like inside you—

“..Do you need help with that?” You squeaked out before you could even register the words in your mind. 

Oh, you’ve really done it now. 

Sloan stared at you with wide eyes, cheeks heated. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sor—“

“You mean that?”

Your hands unconsciously curled further into their shirt. You wanted so desperately for a distraction, to leave this awkward situation, but a tinge of hope and an indescribable pull left you staring helplessly into their eyes. 

You nodded. A small nod, but a nod nonetheless. 

“…You don’t want this.” Sloan laughed nervously. So you weren’t the only horribly mortified one here. It was almost relieving. Almost. “Do you..?”

Fuck it. 

“..I like you. I want this with you. I always have. I mean, I want not just this.. I want you as a whole, I want Sloan Cameron—“ You squeezed your eyes shut as you spoke, too afraid to see their expression. Every moment they didn’t respond to you felt like a century. Your heart dropped with each passing second, wholly terrified of their response. 

“..Que lindo..” They softly murmured. Their hand reached under your shirt to gently stroke your hip with their thumb, and you shuddered at the sensation. Their hand was big. And warm. You’d spent too much time staring at it, wondering how it would truly feel against you. 

“I’ve always thought you were cute.” They finally said. You opened an eye to peek at them. They were looking away, expression unreadable. “Your excited little smile.. the way you always greet me whenever I come here..” They chuckled anxiously. “Heck, it’d be a lie to say I just come here to hang out with your brother.” They were flustered. You could see it. It was your first time seeing this expression on Sloan, but you prayed to whatever deity that existed that it wouldn’t be the last. You held your breath, hanging onto their every word. “Why do you think I choose your house to hang out with him..? I like.. seeing you.. ah,

demonios, I can’t do this at all..”

Their shirt dropped from your grasp and onto the couch as you stared at them, agape. Were you dreaming?

“So.. are you gonna get off my lap, or are we gonna.. canoodle? Ah, that was stupid of me.. idiot Sloan.. who even says canoodle..” You laughed with a mix of bewilderment and adoration as Sloan spoke, wiggling their eyebrows at you. 

Before you knew it, you were kissing them. Kissing them like there was no tomorrow. Savoring their lips. Like this would be the last time you’d ever experience their lips at all. Oh, but you knew it wouldn’t be. You knew you’d have so many more moments like this with them. 

Sloan’s hands roamed aimlessly over your body, slipping under your shirt. You let out a soft whimper at the sensation, noting the way goosebumps appeared on Sloan’s skin at the sound and the way they were touching you got more possessive; the way they were touching you got greedier. 

“Sloan.” A kiss. “My room is much—“ Another one, this time they missed, landing their lips on the corner of yours. “—Comfier than this—“ You threw your head back like a drowning person gasping for air. 

Sloan’s brain was too fuzzy to fully comprehend your words, but they seemed to understand the notion, hoisting you up in their arms by your thighs. You let out a yelp at the sudden sensation of being lifted off the ground. Their discarded shirt covered in ice cream that was probably melted by now (with the help of your ever-growing body heat) was long forgotten on the couch as Sloan mapped a course to your room, their lips never leaving your face. 

“Abre la boca.” They ordered. You looked up at them, dazed eyes confused by the sudden Spanish. “Ah.. I mean, open your mouth.” You obediently complied, allowing them to greedily shove their tongue into your mouth. You surely would’ve fallen if it weren’t for their big arms keeping you up. 

Their energetic tongue seemed to have a will of its own, messily dancing with yours, rolling over your teeth and mixing their saliva with yours. It was like they were trying to explore every inch of your mouth, charting all the places that had never been reached by anyone else. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced— if there was one thing you knew for sure tonight, it was that Sloan Cameron’s tongue game was insane. 

You only understood you were in your room when the sheets hit your back, Sloan atop of you. Their kissing never ceased; your mouth was starting to cramp, but hell, your mind was full of joyful delirium. You’d kiss them for eternity if you could. 

You whined as their chipped tooth caught on your lip, the slight stinging sensation surprisingly pleasant. Sloan apologetically sucked on your lip, leaning back to stare at you. 

Your lips were a mess. Drool leaked everywhere, and they weren’t too sure if it was from you or them— maybe both— but they were too aroused to care. You made them feel like a horny teen all over again. You, splayed out on your bed, legs quivering, shirt slightly riding up from the sensation of being practically thrown down by Sloan; you looked like a cute little  present, one Sloan was itching to unwrap. 

“Can I take this off?” Sloan was too impatient for you to answer the question that they themself had asked, fingers eagerly working to strip you of your clothes. You would’ve laughed at their eagerness if it wasn’t for the burning need you felt for them in the moment, instead opting to gaze up at them dumbly. 

Sloan sucked in a breath as they gazed at your shirtless figure. You were even more stunning than they’d imagined. Those nights of rubbing one out to the thoughts of their best friend’s cute sibling faded away as they registered that you were truly real and there, under them. 

They wanted to ravish you. 

They nearly whined, large fingers palming your bra-clad breasts. With shaky hands, they clumsily took your bra off. It took Sloan longer than it should have, them constantly kissing you like they couldn’t be away from your lips for two seconds and them fumbling with the bra strap and trying to stop themself from ripping it off entirely. But damn, if it wasn’t worth it. You looked absolutely beautiful. Sloan’s eyes roved over your body like a hawk to its prey. You shivered, entertaining the possibility of being swallowed up by them. 

Their cock pulsed with need at the sight of your bare chest, aching to be relieved. It was almost painful, but Sloan was determined to make this pleasant for you, even in their lust-clouded haze. 

“Mierda. So pretty.. I want you. I need you.” They moved their mouth down to greedily attack your breasts, rolling their tongue around your left nipple. They occupied the other with their hand, alternating between gently scratching the bud, flicking it with their thumb and forefinger, and cupping your breast. You squirmed in their hold and they let out a gentle hum of comfort to try and still your movements, which, admittedly, did nothing but make you wetter than you already were. 

“Sloan..” They momentarily stopped their ministrations to soak up that heavenly noise, but quickly resumed when you let out a whine of protest. 

“Mm?” They mumbled against your breast, stopping their sucking and tongue-prodding to dot kisses down your stomach. “What is it, cariño?”

You shakily sighed, fingers tangling in their hair as you watched them with glazed eyes. 

“‘S not enough, I need more.” You protested softly. Sloan’s eyes softened at the sensation. A hint of their teasing nature sparked up and they thought about making you wait for the reprieve you so desperately desired, but they squashed the whim, deciding instead there was plenty of time for that later. Later, when you two were more prepared.

They pulled away from you and groping your tits and you groaned with disappointment, to which they chuckled softly at. 

“C’mere.” They shifted on the bed so they were laying down. “Take your pants off.”

That sounded appealing. You gulped, scooting over to them, and obediently stripped yourself to your panties, to which Sloan let out a low whistle at. 

Your panties were so cute. Did you doll yourself up in the hopes they’d see you like this and fuck you silly? Sloan sighed dreamily at the thought. 

They pulled you onto their lap with ease, and you prayed that your wetness wasn’t soaking through your underwear and onto them. You bit your lip as Sloan hooked their fingers in your panties, slowly pulling them down. They let out a breathy sigh as they stared at the wetness coating your panties. It was them that you were so drenched for. Them. Sloan Cameron. 

Fuck, they were so lucky. You were just the cutest. 

“On my face.” They said softly, staring at you with love. 

“What?” You sputtered. Sloan tossed your panties aside (as much as they enjoyed them) to who-knows-where in your bedroom, occupying their hands with grabbing your thighs. They marveled at the sensation, squeezing gently.

“On my face.” They repeated. “Sit on it.” 

You stared at them incredulously. “You want me to sit on your face? But what if I’m too heavy?”

They chuckled, the sound rippling through your body. 

“I think I have more than enough strength to handle you sitting on my face.” They said, a bit cockily. You gulped at their brazenness, casting a gaze to the muscles you’d been ogling over earlier. 

The offer did seem tempting…

“But what if you, I don’t know, lose air? What if I suffocate you?” 

“Suffocating between your thighs sounds like an honorable death.” They flashed that chipped tooth grin at you that you had grown to adore so much. “Sloan Cameron— died because they were too devoted to eating some pussy.” You snorted at their inability to stay serious even when extremely horny, knowing arguing with them was useless. 

You shakily clambered atop them. They licked their lips as your sopping wet cunt entered their vision. You hovered over their face apprehensively, but Sloan wasn’t having any of it— you squeaked as they pulled you down onto their face. 

You felt your brain turning to mush as you felt Sloan’s face between your legs. Their nose brushed your clit just perfectly, tingling your spine; it was like their face was made for you to sit on— a.. rather odd way of saying you were meant for each other. You gripped their hair in an attempt to steady yourself, but all hopes of regaining some sense of clarity were dashed as you felt them inhale you. 

“You smell so good,” they moaned out. “I wanna taste you, I wanna taste you.. amor, oh, mi amor..”

You let out a keen as they ran their tongue along your folds, lapping up your wetness. They sighed like they were in heaven at its taste; You were everything they imagined and more, so much more. 

You squealed as they traced your tongue around your entrance prodded their tongue at it. 

“C’mon.” They shakily breathed out. “Move for me. You can do it.”

You gulped, knowing nothing but the feeling of their mouth buried in your cunt. The vestiges of embarrassment faded away as you first grinded on their face, replaced by a wave of overwhelming white-hot pleasure. 

It was too quick, how you lost yourself in the sensations of their mouth. You let out soft sobs of ecstasy as Sloan ate you out like a starved human. They made no move to stop you from tugging on their hair as you ground yourself against their face, basking in your enjoyment and rather enjoying the pain. 

“Sloan, oh, oh, I’m so clo—“

“I’m home! I brought your dumb ice cream!” Yelled the familiar voice of your brother. You immediately snapped out of your lusty trance, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. You stared at Sloan like you’d been caught stealing from a cookie jar— they looked back with the same ‘oh shit’ gaze. 

Your brother made his presence known in the living room, setting down the spoils from his trip to the grocery store with a loud, annoyed grunt.

“Where are you two?! Why the hell is Sloan’s shirt on the couch..? And is that ice cream??”

Fuck. You’d forgotten the shirt. 

Sloan looked up at you. You looked back, face full of embarrassment, looking to them for help. 

“Say something!” They urged you. 

“What do I even say??”

“I don’t know!” They whisper-yelled, panic palpable. 

You groaned in annoyance. It took every inch of your willpower not to squeeze their face from where it was with your thighs, but they’d probably enjoy that. 

“Sloan went home!!” You yelled quickly, trying to sound normal— as if you hadn’t just been given the best damn head of your life. 

“Without their shirt?” Your brother yelled back. 

You looked at them for an answer. They pursed their lips and creased their eyebrows at you to as if to say “I don’t know!”, but all it did was send ripples of ecstasy through your body. You managed to silence a moan at the sensation of their pursed lips on you, and their eyes tinged with a rekindled fire. 

“T-Turns out we had ice cream!!” You yelled back. “They spilled it and just went home without it! Th-they said they were tired!”

Your brother groaned in annoyance, mumbling a “That sounds like something Sloan would do”. You sighed in relief, though it was short lived as Sloan’s lips closed around your clit. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head and you had to stifle the loudest whine— with limited success, as it came out like a little grunt. You slapped them from where you were, though it was light, your head too consumed with pleasure to truly do any damage. 

“Keep moving,” Sloan murmured against you. You moaned softly at their breath against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Are you crazy?” You whimpered. 

They raised an eyebrow at you, as if asking you to really answer that question. Yes. Yes, Sloan Cameron was batshit insane. And yes. You loved them. And the idea was turning you on far too much for you to admit.

You slowly continued rolling your hips across their face, gasping quietly at the sensation. 

“Yo, are you sick up there?! You sound awful! Like, more than usual!” Your brother yelled. You cursed under your breath. Of all the times your brother had to show a semblance of care (even if it was backhanded), why now?

You gripped Sloan’s hair tighter, trembling with each roll of your hips. Drool fell from your mouth and onto the bed. 

“Yeah, I’m fine! I’m- uh- I’m naked-!” You screamed. You cursed softly under your breath. Your tone was far too shaky to even sound believable. 

Sloan giggled against your skin. You squealed, kicking what you could of their body lightly with your foot. They let out a quiet “oomph”, which did little to help you, as it blew air against your swollen clit. You threw your head forward, nearly burying your face in the bed. You really dug yourself a hole with anything you did. 

“Ew!” Your brother blanched from the living room. “So I bought all this beer for nothing?” 

Please leave, please leave, please leave-

“I’m not gonna waste this. And I definitely don’t wanna see you naked! I’m gonna go to a friend’s house and drink this!!” You sighed in extreme relief. “I’ll probably stay over! Don’t burn down the house! And clean up that shirt and fucking ice cream!” Even better. He’d be gone the whole night. You felt almost giddy at the thought. 

You halted your movements, which Sloan pouted at, until you heard the door click shut. You almost burst into tears in relief. 

“Thank goodne—“ You trailed off into a loud yelp as Sloan flattened their tongue against your clit. Any possible words escaped you, torn from your mind as Sloan endlessly abused the sensitive bud. 

Their hands squeezed your thighs, nails gently scratching small marks into it, heightening your pleasure. 

“Close— I think ‘m— Sloan— Sloan!!” You shrieked, clenching their hair and tugging. They moaned into you at the feeling, speeding up their movements to help you reach your peak. You assisted, grinding faster against their face, your imminent release the only thing in your mind. 

You cried as you felt yourself cum, digging your heels into the sheets. Your whole body seized up in the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced, and you collapsed on them, exhausted. Your thighs ached, but you couldn’t imagine how Sloan felt. 

..actually, you could. They were beaming, licking off the traces off wetness you’d left on their face like it was fine dining. You were thoroughly embarrassed by the picture, but it was so addicting to stare at. 

You panted softly, burrowing your face in their neck. You could feel yourself sweating, the heat in your body doing little in terms of leaving. 

“Good?”

“Way too good.. What ab’t you?” You murmured into their neck. They blinked, as if the thought hadn’t even crossed their mind. 

“What about me?” They looked just like a clueless puppy. You wrapped your arms around their waist, absentmindedly squeezing their stomach. 

“This whole thing started ‘cuz you were hard.” You mumbled, gently raking your nails across their body. 

They groaned in embarrassment. “Oh, right.. umm.. don’t worry about it.”

You pouted up at them. They cooed internally at the sight; you were just the cutest!

“No. You pleased me.. I should please you back..”

They sighed with a soft little chuckle. “I pleased you, and by pleasing you, I was pleased. Wait, does that even make any sense?” They hummed, thinking. 

You still weren’t satisfied, fingers tugging at the band of their pants. Sloan gulped nervously, feeling heat spread through their body again. Their large, clammy hands covered yours, dwarfing them. 

“Honestly, cariño, you really don’t have to—“

“But what if I wanna?” You asked softly. 

Sloan let out a sigh. 

“I can’t argue with that.”

You eagerly slipped their pants down along with their boxers decorated with assortments of puppies on them, admiring their built legs. You traced the trail of hair from the bellybutton piercing on their stomach down to where their pubes peeked out. You mewled softly, taking in the sight of them. 

Your eyes trailed down. 

“Oh.” You mumbled. 

Sloan laughed nervously. Was that a good “Oh” or a bad “Oh”?

You were taken aback. By no means was it not long, but what you were impressed by was.. the girth. Sloan’s cock was thick. You gulped at the size, but were determined not to let yourself be intimidated. 

You spat in your hand, slowly wrapping a hand around them. Awed by the way one hand barely fit around their length, you slowly pumped your hand. It was like you were entranced. 

Sloan was weak. They were on the verge of crumbling. You looked so adorable, so fucking innocent, staring at their cock oozing precum with fascination, quickly looking up at them with each stroke to gage their reaction. You were so, so, eager to please them, and they felt like they were going to cum embarrassingly quick. 

They felt like they were in some porn— except nothing they were feeling was an act— you were really there, with them, their skin was on fire, oh, they loved you so much. Oh, they felt depraved. Your hand on them was bliss. Pure bliss. 

When you licked the tip of their cock, they almost came immediately. They cursed and willed themself to hold out a little longer. 

You were thoroughly enjoying their reactions; Every shake, every shiver, every keen was addicting to you. You wanted to draw more from Sloan, discover more, feel more. With them. 

You gave a vein a little kitten lick and they pulled on your hair. You gasped in surprise, sending more of their length down your throat. You gagged on it, hot tears forming in your eyes, but oh, seeing them keel over was so worth it. 

You absentmindedly cupped their balls, giving them a soft squeeze. Sloan grunted. They were so, so close. 

“Mierda, mierda.. te quiero, ah..”

You understood the gist of what they were saying, and let out a muffled “wuvvvyoutoo” against their cock, to which they finally threw their head back with a loud groan. 

They came. Hard. 

You gulped down a bit, pondering the salty taste. You pulled back, the rest coating your mouth. Sloan looked at you.

You were absolutely filthy, their cum coating your face. They reached out a thumb to wipe your mouth, but you licked it off your lips, just like they’d done when they ate you out. 

Sloan gulped. 

Yeah, you would never be their best friend’s sibling again. 

Just you. 

You plopped into their lap, too exhausted to say anything. They sighed, absolutely lovesick, caging you in their arms. They peppered your face with much more innocent kisses.

“I love you.” They mumbled softly.

“Mm.” You tiredly leaned into them, finding entertainment in tracing your hands along their tattoos. “..love you too..”

They smiled softly, nuzzling into your neck. 

Sloan was whipped. 

-

so like i kinda fell off at the end 😺 but yeah this is FILTH! if you read this far you’re a SINNER!!! A FREAK!!

plsplspls tell me if it’s not as gender neutral as it can b and if I can fix anything with sloan or you !! love you mwah 

sighs I need to write sloan putting it in and becoming absolutlyelyl pathetic

[makncheese12]

Can I request the most cheesy one bed trope with fem!reader x Amber Freeman fluff? Maybe they all have a movie night before? 💙

I love, love, love Amber freeman so yes. I have a thing against one bed trope because it happened to me but I will give you this Anon🫶🏻

Amber freeman x Fem!reader

Masterlist

Warnings: my writing, softy soft amber

A little closer

You sat quietly in the dark room. Eyes reading over the words with the little lighting you had from the dim street lamp. The only sounds heard are the quiet voices on the TV and the quiet snores of the person next to you who began to shuffle slowly next to you.

You look over to see your girlfriend sitting up slowly, back turned to you as she raises her arm up clearly rubbing her eyes before stretching her arms up.

You smiled at the sight of the oh so tough Amber Freeman acting like a cute toddler in her tired state. It was times like these that you appreciated the most, seeing Amber like this when no one else could.

Though you knew you still weren’t allowed to tell anyone else about it or she would in fact kill both you and the people you told. Not that you ever would, you wanted to be the only one to see and know this.

She pats the bed for a moment, head almost yanking to the spot she was patting making your smile grow.

You reach out and touch her back before running your hand up and down on it making her look back at you with half closed eyes.

As soon as she recognized you, she turned and moved you arm with the book in your hand — while glaring at it — before basically laying her entire body on you.

“You moved.” She mumbled as her face buried itself into your neck making you lift you head and put your chin on top of it.

“No, you did. If I remember correctly you said ‘you’re too sweaty’ with sweat across your forehead and moved away.” You stated matter of factly, chuckling when she pinched you stomach.

“Ow.” You mumble as you feel her breath fan across your neck. She sucks in a breath heavily before slowly letting the air out.

She does it again and this time you squirm, the feeling tickling you slightly. “What are you doing, stop it.” You say as you playfully try to push her head away.

A loud whine escapes her throat making you stop. She really must have been tired to be acting like this, even for you this wasn’t normal. “You smell good, I like it.”

“Well, as your girlfriend I would hope so.” You mumble, pulling the book over her back to continue where you stopped while using your other hand to rub her back.

She grumbles quietly before pushing her back up and continues to bump the book, unable to focus on the words you roll your eyes and place a hand on her head and scratch her scalp.

It only helps for a moment before she reaches up and grabs your arm before yanking it down causing the book to go flying out of your grasp and onto the floor with a thund.

“Amber, what the hell!” You say as she moves back to her comfortable position in your neck. You sit in silence as she mumbles to herself.

She stops for a moment as you begin rubbing her back and patting her head before continuing her quiet mumbles

“What?” You ask turning your head, she huffs before her incoherent mumbling becomes louder making you roll your eyes once again in one night.

“Speak up baby, I can’t hear you.” You say making her huff even louder before moving her mouth from your (her) sweat shirt.

“We didn’t finish the movie.” She says, voice raising louder than needed but getting the point across. You look to the screen to see the movie you set had finished just hours before, not playing an after midnight show.

“Correction,” you say as you reach over the remote. “You didn’t finish the movie, I did.” You finish making her pinch you again before snatching the remote.

She mindlessly scrolled through the different movies and shows before glancing toward you.

“Why are you still awake, anyway?” She asks before looking back to the TV before setting on an older episode of sponge bob.

“You’re the one who decided it was good idea to get me coffee before school,” you say watching her throw the remote and settle back into her spot, expect this time much closer.

“You’re to blame.” You finish as you wrap your arms around her, ignoring the third pinch as your eyes focus on the screen and the breathing of you girlfriend.

After a few minutes she began squirming in your hold causing you to look down to see why she was so restless.

“Amber,” you call as she continues to move about on you. “What’s wrong now?”

“You’re not close enough.” She grumbles as she uses her hands to hold herself up. “Get closer.”

“I don’t think that’s possible babe.” You chuckle and as she crawls over you. She glares at you making you smile.

“So, you’re saying you don’t want to be closer to me?” She asks looking down at you, slightly tilting her head.

You smile at the sight, tiredness clear in her eyes. The whole situation was adorable and you couldn’t get enough. If only she were like this all the time. Clingy, needy and soft. It would be perfect with the personality she has.

Of course, she was nicer to you than anyone else. Much nicer, definitely a ‘mean to everyone but you’ type but this was different from how she’d usually act.

“I never said that, I just said I didn’t know if it were possible.” You smile and stare down at you, moments passing before she spoke again.

“Yes it is, I personally can get a little closer.” She mumbled before dropping herself completely on top of you causing you to huff from the suddenly weight and pressure. “Yes, this feels much closer.” You mumble, looking down you see her head resting gently on your chest.

She seemed less restless now making you smile.

You both go back to watching TV before her breath evens out. Your smile only grows as you reach toward your night stand and grab your phone.

You switch it to camera mode and snap a few pictures of her squished face on your chest.

You scroll through pictures and contemplate sending it to Mindy or Tara. Knowing the consequences, it would end badly but it can’t get too bad. For you, at least.

You smirk and open your messages. If you die, you’ll die peacefully knowing you have these cute pictures in your phone, hidden from your raging girlfriend in the private file.

You just had to share how close she thought she could get.

A/N:

The end is a tad bit rushed I’ll fix it later<3

[the-oaken-muse]

Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse

Dannymay Day 24: NASA

Read it on AO3, if you dare.

Of all the places in the Infinite Realms Juno could have sent him for community service, it had to be the fucking Ghost Zone. He never thought he’d miss the Netherworld, but at least there he didn’t have to deal with Warden Pasty Face and the stick up his entire ass.

He banked a hard left, bobbing and weaving through the zero gravity obstacle course provided by the ectoplasmic landscape. Behind him, the thud of armor against rock let him know he was down a pursuer, as one of the guards collided with an island of floating debris.

God, this place was a dump.

He dove through a thick patch of green fog before ducking behind one of the many floating doors littering the not-air; grateful that he didn’t have breath to catch. Walker’s goons zoomed past his hiding place, following his previous trajectory on a trail that didn’t exist.

Ha! Suckers!

He may have evaded them for now, but he would have to keep moving. When they realized that he’d lost them, they would fan out and search, leaving no stone unturned until they eventually found him and dragged him squirming back to that hell hole of a prison to be crushed under Walker’s boot once more. He needed to put as much distance between himself and this part of the Zone as possible. Or better yet, find a way to the human realm.

He looked to his left, green. He looked to his right, green. He looked down, an endless abyss of green stared back at him.

Looks like he was going to have to ask for directions. Great.

The next door he came across was a deep shade of plum with intricate panels of solid mahogany and a crystal knob. He yanked it open.

“Hey! Anybody home? Hello? I’m lookin’ for—”

A sopping wet sponge splashed against his face. It lingered there for a moment before slowly sliding down, down, down and falling into the chasm below, leaving his face dripping suds. “…the ...nearest portal to Earth.”

The door slammed shut.

“Ugh, soap.” He wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing it with fresh grime.

He floated over to another door, this one a dark weathered indigo with a heavy iron latch. He pulled it open with a loud creak, “Wazzup!”

A burly, tattooed arm emerged from the dark interior and slapped him across the face with a dead fish before slamming the door shut.

Jesus, the ghosts here were rude. At least it wasn’t soap this time.

Next, he spun the wheel on a silvery lavender hatch until it popped up with a hiss.

“Hullo down there!” his voice echoed back. “I’m lookin’ for a human portal! Can ya help a brother out?”

A thick tentacle, in a green so dark it was almost black, snaked out of the hole. In a blink, the tentacle lashed itself around his neck, crushing his useless windpipe.

“Look, I’m a hugger as much as the next guy, but this is a little forward, don’tcha think?” he wheezed.

In response, it whipped him back and flung him into the infinite green like a pitcher throwing a fastball.

He soared, eyes watering, hair whipping, and jowls flapping, for what felt like an eternity, but the five watches on his arm all agreed was only a few minutes.

His flight ended abruptly when he splatted against a strange metal structure. Its surface hummed with energy, vibrating his entire being. He peeled himself off, smoothing out the dents its rivets left in his skin, and took a look. A swirling vortex brighter than the surrounding ectoplasm filled its patchwork steel frame. Unlike the other doors, it remained fixed in place rather than floating up and down gently in a sea of green; it was anchored to something, to another dimension.

Bingo.

He stood on the edge of the portal, plugged his nose, and dove into the pool of light.

The portal spat him out in a large room made of the same patchwork metal as the doorway. Though the scent of death was strong here, in the glowing green of the machinery and in the air, it was mixed through with the unmistakable vitality of the living.

Perfect. Now he just needed to… find a way to get his powers back again…

He slumped forward and groaned.

Living people with The Sight were one in a million, and of those, the ones that were dumb teenagers were even fewer. There was no way Lydia was going to help him out again after the whole fiasco with their wedding either. He needed a new plan, a new pawn… well, there was no time like the present to start looking.

He floated up, poking his head through the ceiling into a modest kitchen. There was a table for four in the middle of the room, but only one chair was occupied. A pair of faded blue jeans and beat up red sneakers bounced impatiently and he could hear the scratch of pencil on paper. Sounded like homework. Bo-ring!

Like a shark fin cutting through the waves, the top half of his head glided across the floor to the fridge. Maybe they had beer.

A small pile of brown crumbs just under the door caught his attention. He sniffed at them, chocolatey. He floated a little higher so that his mouth breached the tile and licked up the remains of someone else’s fridge raid.

“Mmm, fudge.”

The kid at the table startled and looked over in his direction. He could almost believe they were making eye contact right now.

It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Who the heck are you?”

Looks like it could. He cracked a rotten grin and rose fully out of the floor.

“I’m the Ghost with the Most, pleasure to meet ya, kid.”

He held out a hand to shake, a centipede skittered down his arm and around his dirt-crusted knuckles before heading back into his sleeve. The boy just stared at the proffered digit in disgust.

“The most what? Grease stains on your shirt?”

“That and so much more! You name it, I’ve got it. Charm, good looks, STDs—”

“Modesty.” The boy deadpanned.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I wear pants at least…” he began counting the fingers on one hand, “thirty percent of the time!”

“That’s not what I— You know what? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t soup you right now.” The boy snatched a thermos off the table and waved it threateningly.

Jeez, tough crowd.

He wasn’t sure what kind of soup was in there, but something told him he didn’t want to find out.

“Beeecauuuuse…” His eyes darted around for something he could use to turn the situation to his favor. Math worksheet? No. Half eaten sandwich? Maybe later. NASA t-shirt? Perfect. “I’m a star, kid.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of star?” The boy narrowed his eyes skeptically.

“Red supergiant, Orion constellation… I’m sure you’ve heard of me…”

He crossed his fingers behind his back. Please work, please work.

“Betelgeuse?”

“Got it in one, kid.” He swallowed his relief and winked. “You’re even quicker on the uptake than Lydia!”

“Who?”

“Uhh, no one! Hey, what’s that?”

Betelgeuse darted over to a group of photos on a shelf and picked one up.

“Who’s the chick in the tight blue suit?” He whistled, letting the back of the frame fall open and the picture to unfold. “Really doesn’t leave much to the imagination does it?”

“Um, ew! That’s my mom!” The kid snatched the photo out of his hands and inspected the back of it. “How did you even do that?”

“I’d let her be my mommy any time.”

“…I will literally do anything for you to never talk about my mom ever again.”

“Anything?”

“Like, within reason. I’m not gonna, you know, kill anybody or anything.”

“Would you… be willing to… maybe… say my name three times in a row?” He bit his lip in anticipation.

The kid considered him suspiciously. “Is this like a kink thing?”

“What? No! Pshhh! No! Well maybe sometimes… Absolutely not, no. Cross my heart! See!” He drew an X on the right side of his chest.

“Yeah, no. Still don’t trust you.”

“C’mon kid!” He skidded to his knees in front of the boy. “Please, please, please! I’ll owe you one! I’m good for it! Promise!”

He clutched at the NASA shirt desperately. He couldn’t let this kid slip through his fingers, it might be another hundred years before he found another living person who could see him. He’d tasted the blood of freedom and he wanted more.

The boy grimaced and tried to pull away, Betelgeuse scrabbled after him. “I’ll get out of your hair, promise! Just three little words! Just three!”

“Okay, jeez, fine. If it’ll get you leave,” the boy groaned.

“YES! I mean!” He cleared his throat, “Yes.”

“Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse. Now get out of my house.”

Power surged then fizzled within him.

“Wow. That was anticlimactic.” He deflated. “Ah well, a deal’s a deal! See ya kid!”

He flew up through the ceiling with a sloppy salute.

What a chump! That was almost too easy.

 -later-

 That was definitely too easy.

Betelgeuse scowled as yet another hand reached through his head to grab a jug of milk.

His powers had been on the fritz ever since he got them back. One minute he was turning the floor into a writhing mass of roaches, the next, poof, they were gone! The unsuspecting sap he’d been about to scar for life left… unscarred.

He could tap someone on the shoulder, but when they turned around, they just looked straight through his carefully crafted horror show of a face; he’d hidden in dumpsters to jumpscare people taking out their trash, but they didn’t even see him; and his fruit fly cream pies went right through their targets.

Figures, it was just his luck that the one fucking human in this whole damn city who could see him was fucking defective.

Betelgeuse opened the glass door and stepped out of the grocery store refrigerator, he needed to find that kid.

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (16/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~4.3k

They bang. Finally.

Read on AO3 or you can find the sixteenth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11 - she underestimated just who she was stealing from | ch. 12 - no amount of freedom gets you clean | ch. 13 - stay stay stay | ch. 14 - call it what you want to | ch. 15 - even when you're sleeping, keep your eyes open | ch. 16 - you drew stars around my scars

Rhys's wings were redder than I'd originally thought. I hadn't noticed it until one morning a few days later, when sunlight streaming in from the window illuminated the membranes from the back, making them appear almost translucent. As I sipped my morning tea, my eyes kept drifting to the intricate network of veins, the outline of the delicate bones, and the gleaming, razor-sharp talons.

Cauldron, they were beautiful.

I hadn't had much time to admire them until then. The past few days had been full of training in the mornings and then reading lessons while Rhys caught up on the state of the Night Court and Prythian. For now, it was all we could handle. There was still so much we were both putting off, but neither one of us had slept through the night since our return.

But that morning, Cassian had insisted on a rest day, so I let myself stare over my mug of tea because we had the time for once. I wasn't quite ready to face a blank canvas just yet—and when I did, there were other things I needed to get out of my system first—but I'd paint this view one day.

Despite all the shameless flirting, I was still fairly certain Rhys didn't want to be ogled over breakfast, so I said, "How do you get a shirt over your wings?" I hadn't noticed telltale buttons on the back of the tunic he was wearing.

His eyes sparked as he cocked his head at me, his curiosity at my sudden question obvious. My cheeks heated. "I generally use magic to seal it shut," he said slowly.

"And how do you get them clean in the bath?"

"Sponges. Surely you're familiar with the concept?" Rhys said drily. I shot him an irritated look that just made him smirk. When he spoke again, I could have sworn his voice dropped a bit lower as he added, "So many questions this morning. Why?"

"I didn't have a chance to ask before." It wasn't really a lie—I hadn't shied away from asking the Inner Circle questions before I'd gone Under the Mountain, but once I'd realized exactly why Illyrian wings were so sensitive, I'd hesitated to ask much about them. Cassian and Azriel would have humored me, but there were some things that I didn't want to discuss with my mate's brothers.

"Come touch them if you're curious."

I stood up so quickly that I nearly knocked over my chair, then froze. "Are you sure?"

He certainly didn't look unsure, not with the way he was sitting with his legs spread, wings flared out wide behind him and one arm on the back of his chair. If anything, he looked arrogant. But it wasn't quite enough—I still wanted to hear him say it.

As I stepped around the table, I caught the slight movement of his throat bobbing. "Please touch my wings," he said.

I stopped just in front of him. To get my hands on his wings with him sitting down, I'd either need to put one hand on the back of the chair for balance as I leaned in…or I'd have to straddle his lap.

"You never had them out Under the Mountain."

His eyes didn't leave my face, even as I felt his fingers interlace with mine. "If something is precious to you, it's safest kept hidden."

Velaris. Our mating bond. And his wings, too. Away from prying eyes, there was security that came from being shrouded in darkness, and I'd felt that at the very core of the Night Court's magic. Stealth was key to hunting, and perhaps years of moving undetected through the woods had shaped me in the same way.

"No one else has ever…" I whispered, trailing off.

"I'd never let myself be vulnerable in that way. Not unless it's with you."

I didn't ask if it was because he loved me or because of the mating bond—I didn't care. Rhys trusted me, and that was the important part.

There was no point in hesitating or doing this by halves. I made myself comfortable on his lap, resting my thighs on either side of his hips. His hands settled on my waist.

I ran a finger down the membrane of his wing, careful to use the pad and not scrape it with my nail. It was smooth and surprisingly cool, almost like silk, but stretchier than I would have guessed. I kept dragging my finger down, moving it closer to where the wing met his back.

Rhys hissed and bucked his hips, jerking at the contact with a sensitive spot. I let out a squawk of surprise, and if he hadn't tightened his grip around my middle, he would have knocked me off his lap.

I started to ask if he was alright, but he just laughed and said, "I should have known you'd go straight for the most sensitive places."

Interesting. I skimmed my finger along his wing again, closer to the talon, where I guessed it wasn't quite as sensitive. If he'd let me, I'd map out every inch of his wings with my hands, learn everything until I knew them as intimately as I knew my own body.

Now that I was closer, I saw the scars. Or more accurately, I felt them—they were old and faint, but slightly stiff under the pressure from my finger. None of them were particularly large, but his wings were covered in them.

Rhys had the same healing magic as any other High Fae. Scars like this…they were the result of torture, intentional cruelty by someone with magic who knew what they were doing. And they'd already been there before he'd been trapped Under the Mountain.

"These are from the War, aren't they?" I said.

"Yes. They don't hurt as much as they used to."

I traced one with a finger, watching his face carefully for any sign of pain. He just shifted his hips under me. It gave me the confidence to splay my entire palm against his wing and slide it slowly down to that sensitive place from before. His answering groan heated my blood, and as I leaned down to kiss him, I ground against the rapidly-hardening length of him.

Rhys was still gripping my waist, as if now of all times he'd decided to be something of a gentleman, which was ridiculous when I was already straddling his lap. But maybe…I'd rushed him. It was still so soon after everything we'd just gone through.

I tipped my head back to look at him. "Do you want this?"

"Like I've never wanted anything else," he said, voice so rough it was nearly unrecognizable.

"Then move your hands down."

He slid both hands to my ass and squeezed, pressing me against him. I let my satisfaction at finding him harder than before cross the bond. As I leaned in again, I felt his growl reverberate in my chest just as strongly as I heard it.

I swept my hands across his wings in several directions, and no matter where I touched, Rhys couldn't keep still. Each caress made him shudder against me, the friction against my clit sweet and intoxicating, even through layers of fabric. His fingers dipped under my shirt, and I pulled my hands off his wings to shuck it off.

His face was between by breasts before my shirt hit the floor.

Rhys's tongue traced a line towards a nipple. I arched into him, and for a moment, I couldn't remember why his mouth had ever been anywhere but that very spot or how the endless well of need on both sides of the bond hadn't swallowed us both whole.

A plea floated into my head, through the bond so he didn't have to move his lips from my skin. If you never take your hands off me again, it will be too soon.

I skimmed my fingers down his wing, and territorial instinct had me wishing for paint or something to leave behind a mark on every bit of skin that I touched, to warn everyone else away from what was rightfully mine.

I hadn't meant for that thought to cross the bond, but it tore a keening, desperate noise from Rhys as his hips ground against mine again. I'm yours. Leave all the marks on me you wish.

"You're wearing too many clothes for that," I whispered.

Before I could scramble for buttons, I was on my back and on the floor, clothes gone and Rhys naked above me, cradling the back of my head in one broad hand. I thought we might have winnowed, but the world hadn't disappeared into smoke and shadow—no, he'd just pounced with that inhuman speed of his.

I could see the question in his face, the hesitation that this might have been too much and too fast for me, even with his eyes the darkest shade of violet I'd ever seen them. Despite how badly I could feel that he wanted to keep going, Rhys was giving me an opportunity to stop.

Not that I wanted to. Naked and under him was exactly where I wanted to be.

I pushed up onto an elbow and kissed him softly, cupping his face with my other hand. He leaned into the touch, then turned his head to kiss my palm. A shiver went through me at the memory of pomegranate seeds the last time his mouth had been there.

Rhys started to move down my body, and when I realized where exactly he was going, I locked my legs around his waist, keeping him in place. "Not now," I murmured. "Another time, but I want you inside me. Please."

His face darkened, and for a moment I thought I might have said something wrong—perhaps I'd pushed too hard or he merely did just want to bury his face between my thighs for now. He just said, "You don't beg. Not for anything, from anyone."

The words sounded like a vow. But before I could respond, his face broke into that cocky smile I'd come to love. With a teasing nudge at my entrance, he added, "But especially not for this—I'd never deny you."

True to his word, Rhys slid into me as I said, "I'm yours, too."

I let him set the pace as I kissed and nipped as his neck. Every mark I left drew another soft noise from him or a deeper thrust, and I wanted him covered in them.

He braced one hand against the tile floor to hold himself up, and the other seemed to be everywhere, squeezing my breasts, skimming down my stomach, circling my clit. The world narrowed to just the places our bodies touched and the golden thread connecting us. Before long, I was shattering around him as he spilled into me.

I'd hardly caught my breath when he winnowed us to his bed. And perhaps we should have ended up there sooner, instead of on the kitchen floor, but I was feeling too contented and comfortable to care. I lay back against the pillows as Rhys shifted, sprawling half on top of me with our legs tangling together. One wing draped over us both like a blanket, and he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

We were quiet for a long moment. His arm banded around my chest tightly, holding me to him as if he were afraid I'd disappear. With a stab of guilt, I wondered if he thought I might run off again. The bond was also quiet, but I suspected there might have been a reason he wasn't looking at me.

It was strange, I realized as I traced the swirl of a tattoo on his upper arm, to want to linger like this after sex. Everything before this had been in a barn or a cave—not somewhere I could just be held afterward. The lack of urgency driving me back to the woods to hunt or Rhys back Under the Mountain…I still couldn't bring myself to trust that it was real.

I double-checked that my shields were up; I didn't want that thought to interrupt any peace that Rhys had found.

"After the first decade Under the Mountain, I thought I'd never want another person to touch me again," he said eventually, so softly that I almost didn't hear it. The words were muffled against my skin, his breath warm. "I'd thought she'd stolen the ability to want like that, along with everything else. Calanmai was different, something that could only happen once. But then, after you told me you were trapping a Suriel, you said next time like it was inevitable, and I…started to believe it could happen. I wanted it to happen. I didn't know you well enough to love you yet. That's when I knew the mating bond had changed everything."

If I hadn't felt the way the bond in my chest had rearranged my the world for me, I wouldn't have understood. Love might not have been enough to fix what Amarantha had destroyed, but there was nothing more powerful than a mating bond. The cord didn't just tie us together—it held our shattered pieces in place to heal, like a cast around a broken bone. Nothing else could have done that.

"I love you," I said, because it still mattered. His hair was soft against my cheek as he turned his head to press a kiss to my collarbone. "And there's always going to be a next time, even if I have to tear the world apart to make it happen."

At that, Rhys finally looked at me; he smiled, eyes bright and without any sign of tears. "If it were anyone else, I would have thought those were just empty words," he said.

I shrugged. "I've been told I'm stubborn."

"'Perseverant' is a better word," he said, then leaned over to kiss me. "Or 'tenacious.'" He kissed me again. "Or 'undeterred.'" Another kiss. "And I love you for it."

"This sounds far too much like penmanship practice," I grumbled into his shoulder, though I suspected that ducking my head hadn't hid my smile.

"If you want more sentences about how handsome, delightful, and cunning I am, then I'm more than happy to oblige," he purred.

Cauldron boil and fry me—he knew the effect it had on me when he dropped his voice low like that. Heat pooled in my lower abdomen, and I didn't need the bond to sense the purely male smugness that oozed off of him.

With both of us naked atop his bed, perhaps it wasn't much of a surprise that we made sure next time happened a few minutes after that.

We would have stayed in bed all day if we'd been given the opportunity, but even a rest day wasn't completely free of obligations. Rhys had scheduled an appointment with a healer to discuss a regimen of exercises to regain strength in his wings and the utility of a sleeping draught, and that was too important to miss. I'd offered to go with, but there was no need.

For the first time in a while, I was alone. I didn't particularly want to be, and with the bond still on my mind from earlier, I realized I'd never asked Amren if her research on mating bonds had turned up anything promising. And if I was being honest with myself, I was also burning with curiosity about the lingering tension between Rhys and his Inner Circle. I dressed and headed for Amren's apartment.

The walk was short, but it was still enough to second-guess myself by the time I arrived. Amren and the others had their hands full, and she might not be home, let alone willing to entertain my questions. I took a breath and raised my hand to knock anyway.

Only for Amren to pull the door open before I made a sound.

"What brings you here, Feyre?" she said, slightly accusatory. By now, though, I knew that was as welcoming as she ever got.

"I came to speak to you," I said.

I didn't miss the way her nostrils flared and the grimace as she stepped aside to let me in. She must have scented what Rhys and I had been up to; I'd nearly forgotten that the fae could. I'd have to remember to bathe next time.

"Well?" she said, once I was inside.

"I wanted to thank you. For not trying to talk me out of going Under the Mountain."

It still took an effort not to squirm as she leveled her swirling silver eyes at me, even though I'd expected it. Coming here alone to say that, with the scent of Rhys and sex still lingering on me…she'd draw conclusions from it and probably share them with the Inner Circle. I'd thought about that and accepted it.

Jeweled bracelets on her wrists clinked together as Amren flicked a hand in a gesture that indicated it had been nothing. "Sending you was the only sound strategy we had," she said.

"What makes you say that?"

"There were no mated pairs with a fully accepted bond and one or both parties Under the Mountain. If there were, Amarantha would have been defeated well before you were even born."

I considered that. Mating bonds were rare, so perhaps it shouldn't have come as a surprise that Rhys and I were the only ones. And everyone trapped Under the Mountain had something or someone they loved—and after fifty years, that clearly hadn't been enough to save them.

It meant something. It didn't feel like a coincidence that Rhys and I were the only such pair, that I was human, that the Night Court's magic wanted something with me, that a hunter made of stars pointed to Velaris and I'd brought the High Lord of the Night Court back home.

I didn't understand everything, but I was supposed to be here in the Night Court.

Amren must have been able to tell I had more questions. She jerked her head towards the sitting area, then took a seat across from me. "Did you find anything on mating bonds between humans and faeries while I was gone?" I said. With Amren, it seemed best to get straight to the point.

"There might not be much to find. The most plausible theory is that the lifespans of a human and a faerie are too different for a mating bond to exist between them. Your being Made immortal supports that assertion," Amren said.

With everything that had happened lately, I'd nearly forgotten I was immortal. The lingering echo of magic still hadn't dimmed, but at some point, I'd grown used to it, like a background hum I could tune out. I'd have to face it eventually. One day, I wouldn't be able to ignore the fact that I'd stopped aging.

Before I could respond the sound of Mor's voice cut across the room. I nearly jumped out of my chair—I hadn't heard her winnow in. "If you were going to skip our meeting, the least you could have done was send a note," she was saying.

Her eyes landed on me as she stepped around a bookcase, and her scowl turned to a smile. "Or you could have said that Feyre was here," she added brightly.

Mor dropped into the seat between us and hugged me hello. It was still foreign to me, to be greeted this way, for someone to be pleased to see me and not just the game I was carrying out of the woods. I suspected I'd been hugged more often in my few weeks in the Night Court than all the rest of my life combined.

And it was definitely still strange to feel Mor's sharp inhale as she got closer to me and know what it meant.

"I was going to come speak to you later, but now works, too," Mor said. Her hair was pinned up into a bun, and her gown was a more subdued shade of red than what she typically favored—she must have been spending the morning attending to her duties as Rhys's Third. She'd been back to the Hewn City often lately.

"What about?" I said.

"How do you feel about a trip to the Day Court, emissary?"

"Now?"

Mor laughed and shook her head. "Gods, no. None of the courts are going to be up to hosting official visitors for a while yet, but if we're going to be first on the docket when the time comes, we need to start the conversation now."

Even with the glamour back in place, I hid my left hand instinctively at the memory of Helion approaching me Under the Mountain. "They're still our allies?" I said, though they must be if sending me there was under discussion at all.

"We have a shared border and need access to their libraries," Amren said.

"For what?" I asked. The library under the House of Wind was massive—it was difficult to imagine any information couldn't be found there.

"There are spells that don't require magic from the wielder," Amren said, watching me again as if she could see right through me. Not sizing me up, just interested in picking me apart and examining my component parts one by one. I tried not to shiver. "But that knowledge was destroyed during the War, by High Fae who were afraid it could fall into the hands of humans interested in using it against them. Day has the most extensive libraries in Prythian. If any scraps remain, they will be there."

I didn't need to ask why—I'd be safer with any magic at all at my disposal. And it would be best if we could manage it before my immortality became impossible to hide.

"It's a long shot," Mor said, "and it would have been, even before Amarantha burned most of Day's libraries. It's still worth a try."

When I'd learned a bit about the courts of Prythian before going Under the Mountain, there had been an offhand mention of a thousand libraries in Day. I sat in silence for a moment, just struggling to comprehend the scale of devastation.

It made the so-called blight on the Spring Court seem like nothing.

"Helion would share that information with us?" I said.

"The Day Court stands for widespread access to information, and their librarians keep information about who borrowed what confidential," Amren said. That seemed flimsy to me, and I started to ask about the possibility of spies when she grinned, showing her teeth. It didn't look friendly. "And I know how to make sure they stay quiet if it comes to that."

"With the shared border, there are plenty of reasons to send a Night delegation to Day that won't arouse any suspicion about what you are, Feyre. And sending just you, Amren, and me will help us get in front of any rumors that we're mistreating the Cursebreaker," Mor said.

It made perfect sense, but I still caught a slight hesitation. Perhaps because she thought I might not be ready or she anticipated an instinctive angry reaction to a plan that would separate me from my mate for a while. In truth, it was the potential of embarrassing myself as a poor reader that made me more nervous than anything. The Day Court could gawk at me if it kept the rest of Prythian off our backs.

If Feyre Cursebreaker was another role I'd have to play, then I'd do it.

"I'll go," I said. Mor and Amren shared a look as if they were communicating mind-to-mind—not daemati, just two people who knew each other well and had worked together for centuries. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortably aware they'd likely been discussing how to handle me again. After a moment, I added, "Have the rumors gotten worse?"

"Yes, but nothing we can't handle," Mor said, and I was struck again by the plain honesty, even though she knew it wasn't the answer I'd hoped for. "If you get out into Velaris more, that will help. You're well known, so word will spread if people see you, even if they can't say exactly where in the Night Court. I've been meaning to take you to dinner anyway. We could even find some blood for Amren and call it a girls' night."

Amren scowled. Mor tossed her head back and laughed.

I did want to see more of the city, though. So many other things had taken priority, but Velaris was the closest thing I had to a home anymore. Most of what I knew was the information Rhys had deposited in my head, and I wanted to find out more for myself.

"Just tell me when, and I'll be there," I said, and Mor beamed.

There wasn't much else to discuss, and Amren's irritation at two guests in her apartment was becoming palpable. Mor offered to winnow me back to the townhouse, but I was feeling restless from having spent so little time on my feet that day.

"And Feyre?" Mor said as we both stood to go. "I know my cousin knows how to treat a lady. If he doesn't get it together and take you on a proper date already, I'll kick his ass."

Amren made a disgusted noise behind me as Mor winked and then winnowed away. I took that as my cue to leave, saying a quick goodbye before hurrying down the stairs.

I felt lighter on the walk back to the townhouse. At first, I wasn't sure why, perhaps it was nothing more than just sunlight on my face and sea-scented air. But it ran deeper than that.

At some point, it clicked—I had plans to look forward to, for the first time in ages. Even in Spring, when I'd thought I'd found a bit of peace and a chance to rest and paint as much as I wished, I hadn't had that.

Happiness, the real, lasting kind, had never felt more tangible.

[artieareyouokay]

I think I might might have actually missed my life's calling

You know how Bearcreek is just the peak of entertainment? Today I was SO bored that I actually agreed to babysit a two year old kid from one of the architects from the firm. Cut to me spending an embarrassing amount of time reading a Little Red Riding Hood storybook to said kid. With voices. That's right I made up and kept up different distinctive voices for all characters in the story and my performance was immaculate. I actually think I might have missed my call as a voice actor. Just imagine Sponge Bob but with my voice? an entire loss not just for me but by the world in general.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

*Honey is writing fervently while high way to hell is blasting in the background*

"oh that is hot.... yass queen, dominate that man with your thighs...."

read in sponge-bob narrator voice: *a few moments later*

"wait, I have enough to release a chapter a week, I should start kinktober and the 12 days of christmas!"

*proceeds to pull up challenge/events file, excitement now bubbling away*

"what kinks shall I do this year?"

*giggles, highway to hell grows louder*

[steveharrington]

i dont think sponge bob would be considered overstimulating?? cartoons for small kids nowadays are filled with weird unneeded sounds (like surprised gasps, angry grunting and such) and colors, every emotion is made way too clear as if children are too dumb and, moreover, shouldnt learn to read faces/voice tones of normal humans anyway. if you ever watch these cartoons they're annoying af and probably dont affect kids well, idk. sponge bob is fine in comparison i think🤷🏻

i definitely don’t think it’s overstimulating personally but i’ve seen a wave of videos from self proclaimed “crunchy moms” who Only want their kids to watch bluey if they even let them watch tv at all. their argument is that spongebob is too loud and hyperactive (yknow like a lot of children tend to be) and it’s def not new because growing up i had friends who weren’t allowed to watch spongebob and the reason was just straight up like “it’s annoying” which. sad! like yeah obviously if your kid is stressed out by certain shows, don’t turn it on for them. but just assuming that your child will be too fragile for a show that is literally written and catered for them, that millions of children over the course of like 2 decades have enjoyed, is very strange to me. there’s also something to be said for letting children form their own preferences. there were shows i DID find annoying as a kid and chose not to watch, and it was one of the first times i got to exercise choice and preference as a child. obv i’m preaching to the choir here but like my god your kid does not need to sit in silence all the time with their beige toys 😭

[septembersghost]

in a timeline where Elvis had been in good health and lived longer or even was still alive! what do you think might've happened with his career?

this is a great question, and i love it despite it also making me unspeakably sad. obviously so many things would have to change for this to happen, and there are endless hypotheticals that can be asked about him - what if he'd gotten, and been willing to accept, help with the pills and his other struggles, what if he hadn't been trapped in vegas, what if he'd left parker, what if he had had the chance to make dramatic pictures and choose/record more music that inspired him rather than the movies and soundtracks he ended up having to do for so long, what if he hadn't been drafted, what if his mother hadn't died when she did - any one of these changing potentially changes the whole course of his life. but let's say nothing is different except he's healthier and survives. keep in mind elvis would've only been 45 in 1980, and, all things being equal, his voice would still have been strong and clear and beautiful. i don't think he's the type of person who ever would've wanted to stop creating and performing. the 80s gets us into an interesting time with music, disco fizzles out, a bunch of fresh rock and pop and country sounds rise and flourish, hip-hop begins to enter the mainstream. another big thing that happened was the revitalization of broadway, with particularly flashy, sweeping musicals. barbra streisand, who'd primarily been recording various forms of pop as it shifted for a good decade or so, along with her successful film soundtrack music, returned to her roots and released the broadway album in 1985 (one of my albums of all-time), when el would've been 50, and it was seen as a gamble, but turned out to be a huge hit. elvis may not have been a musical theatre performer in that sense, but he had a natural affinity for drama and flair, so it'd be cool to know if he would've taken to any of that or incorporated aspects of it (in my head, he'd totally enjoy the phantom of the opera). the rock sounds, the r&b, the fusions in pop and country, all of that would've piqued his interest, i think, because he was so passionate about music and was so skilled (and such a sponge for it across genres) at adapting it. so he could've experimented with new sonic forms, kept expanding his abilities and repertoire. i'd love to imagine that he'd have flown away out of vegas and finally gotten to tour the way he wanted. i even think he would've added innovation to the culture and music happening at the time. if he'd remained well and found creative outlets that inspired him, it's something he could've kept going on and building for a long while. i feel certain he would've done more gospel records too eventually, while still staying current at the same time. i imagine any of that would've somewhat altered how his legacy has been viewed, especially the wrongfully disparaging commentary. maybe he'd be like some of the other artists we've seen, paul, elton, bob dylan, billy joel, and so on, and kept playing well into his 70s. maybe eventually he'd have retired instead and taken time for himself (and you asked career specifically, but i hope he could've found some personal peace and love that he kept looking for too), but...part of me really does think he never could've left making music or being onstage and sharing that love and energy with an audience, as long as he was able. he would've found those songs to keep singing. which is what he did do in life. if only he'd had more time.

kind of off-topic/an aside, but i honestly believe he'd be so, so touched, and so amused regarding some things (i simply know he'd dissolve into that contagious laughter), that the young women on the internet, even a generation behind me, (after i explain the internet to him, i will tell him <3) are listening to and watching, and writing and reading about, and making countless fanvids and edits/gifs/etc for him in 2023. i hope in 2027, when he's been gone for fifty years, all the fans right now, new and old alike, still hold onto part of what they're currently experiencing. there's something indescribably wholesome about it (even in the thirst posting tbh, because it's still his power?!). i just cannot fathom any current star having this effect decades later, including the ones i adore. not because they aren't great, not because they aren't creating wonderful, lasting work, they undoubtedly are, but so much has shifted in how we absorb and keep and pass that on which alters it along the way. elvis' status as the best-selling solo artist of all time could *maybe* be broken eventually (although it's not in the foreseeable future), but it won't actually be comparable because streaming and everything within the industry has vastly changed. another difference, unfortunately, also lies in the tragedy. i hope our current young musicians have long careers and carve out happy, peaceful lives free of as much of that torment as possible, but the immense sadness and mythic rise and fall of it all are why we culturally still cling so much to certain people - as i've oft mentioned with EP, MM. to those eternally young and heartbreaking figures. if they'd experienced recovery, and lived the long, contented lives we wish they had, would we be this captivated by them now? or do we look into the abyss of their absences and hold them closer to keep them alive, to understand and feel that connective empathy? it's deeply human nature to be drawn to trying to understand the shadow of that darkness chasing their light. we want them to live and we can't give it to them, so we find ways to bring them to life instead.

i wish he was here to know how beloved he is, and i wish he was here because it would mean the trajectory of his life was far more gentle. i wish he was here to laugh with us about it and see us singing and dancing along to his music as if it was brand new, but i do believe he often looks down at us like:

[yuuxhan]

Yuri Harukami

These are headcanons of my OC for my commissions or anyone who wants to know her!

(Also for me to remember… ehe😋)

Yuri is my main OC, I use her for everything and I shove her into different anime/situations for my own comfort.

I hold Yuri very close to my heart, I will defend her with everything I’ve got.. so please, if you have comments that are not nice, refrain from saying them please. Thank you.

(This is also why my name is Yuri lolol!)

This is her Pinterest board I made for her, it shows her style and how she looks. Some photos will vary depending on the situation/ story though. Feel free to view~

Here’s a short description of you don’t want to read everything!

History: Yuri is a blue eyed, pale skinned girl who’s in her highschool years. She has freckles from her chest, shoulders.. up to her cheeks and face. She gets them from Akito, her father who’s Australian. He married Ayame, who’s Japanese. Ayame has white fluffy hair while Akito’s is very curly and light brown. They had their first child in JP named Yuki, a girl who looks mostly like her father with her brown bob cut short hair. A year passed and Yuri was born. Yuri looked a lot like her mother, her white hair, blue eyes.. they’re both albino.

About: Yuri’s a very kind and selfless person, she’s adored by many for how sweet and gentle she is. She has a very soft and quiet voice, she almost sounds like she’s talking to a baby. She always carries around a small backpack, holding things like a small blanket or some water.. just in case she runs into trouble.

Likes: Yuri loves being with her friends.. or in anyone’s company. She never fails to put a smile on their faces, and in return they adore her presence. She’s okay with being alone too, she doesn’t mind getting some peace and quiet once in a while, it’s refreshing.

Dislikes: Growing up people used to bully her because of her looks and personality, they found her tooo sweet. It was weird, some found it creepy and obnoxious. So she hates it when people teases her like that, although she’s too kind to say it, she’d most likely be repeating it in her head.

Fav. Food: She likes anything sweet! Whether it’s candies or chocolates.. or doughnuts! But her favorite is cake. She could gulp down a sponge cake or a chocolate cake.. but not when it’s tooo sweet, that’s too much.

Dislike food: She doesn’t like things that are supposed to be warm, turned cold. For example, overnight oats.. warm oatmeal sounds amazing but when it’s frozen.. eugh. Or those cold soba noodles.. gross. Anything cold like that she hates.

Fav weather: Yuri’s favorite weather is when it snows. The beautiful white snowflake falling from the sky, watching it pile up.. it looks magical to her. Though she also likes when it rains, sitting down in a dim room with a good book, cuddled up in blankets… so peaceful.

Fave holiday: Along with the cold weather, her favorite holiday is Christmas! Giving gifts is something she loves to do. But not just that, the joy of Christmas. Being able to wake up with your family and exchange gifts. Sitting in the window and watching the snow. Hearing the giggles and laughter of children playing.. she loves it all.

Hobbies: If not hanging with her friends, you can find her at the beach.. or any park or local library. She loves reading.. her favorite is fantasy and romance novels. You can find her sitting in the park up on a tree just resding to herself, or laying on a picnic mat just relaxing.

Birthday: Her birthday is December 19th! She usually gets her gifts before or during Christmas morning.

~~~~~

Voice Claim: I haven’t actually done one of these before but I do believe her JP and ENG voice would be Rei from Evangelion (the 2021 version? I havent watched that anime.. but I’ve heard her voice before.)

If you have any other questions or comments about her, please comment!

Drawings!!

Unfortunately I can’t draw for shit so.. I do commissions every once in a while. So here are some commissions I’ve done with them! All of the artists are listed below the photo!

(The credit belong to them! Nothing is mine except for the character!!)

Akito (Yuri’s father in his younger years. I did him in a Sk8 AU bc… why not?👀)

Artist is: @thym3y

This is Yuri!

Artist is: @ Kyrin_San on instagram

(I can’t find who the artist for this one is for the LIFE of me omg.. I searched everywhere but 🫠…. If I do find them I’ll tag them. I completely forgot omg, I’m so sorry)

A friend of mine drew Yuki for me! (Yuri’s older sister!)

Artist is: @ibtrashwhore

[sadboi-in-a-sweater]

Sadboi's Incredibly Strange Multifandom Adventure - Chapter 2: The Call

The next morning, she awoke to the sound of seagulls squawking outside. The salty scent of the ocean was a stark contrast to the fresh pine scent of the forest she was used to. But it wasn't unpleasant; it was a new smell, a new beginning. She sat up and looked around, her eyes landing on a note scribbled on a piece of seaweed.

"Good morning, Sadboi! Me and Patrick are going jellyfishing. Join us when you're ready!" It read in Sponge Bob's bubbly handwriting.

With a smile, she grabbed her phone and sent a message to the French Narrator. "Having an adventure," she typed out. "Will keep you updated."

The world outside the rock was already bustling with activity. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting a soft light over the coral structures of Bikini Bottom. As she stepped out, she saw Patrick and Sponge Bob in the distance, waving at her.

Her heart swelled with excitement and a hint of nervousness. This was it. She was going to live out the adventures she'd only ever seen on screen, and she was going to do it with friends by her side.

The French Narrator's voice was a comforting whisper in her mind. "Remember, Sadboi, this is your adventure. Embrace it." She nodded to herself and swam over to her new friends.

"Morning, guys," she said, her voice still a bit groggy.

"Morning, cubehead!" Patrick called back, his eyes barely open.

"You're up early," Sponge Bob said with a yawn. "Ready for some jellyfishing?"

Sadboi had never been jellyfishing before, but she was eager to learn. She followed them to the Jellyfish Fields, where the air was filled with the gentle hum of jellyfish fluttering about. The sight was mesmerizing, their glowing tentacles swaying in the water like ethereal dancers.

As they began the sport, she realized that jellyfishing was a lot harder than it looked. The jellyfish kept slipping from her grasp, and she was afraid she'd hurt them with her clumsy attempts. But Patrick and Sponge Bob were patient teachers, showing her the ropes with their nets and encouraging her every time she missed.

After a few hours, she finally caught one. "Got it!" she exclaimed, holding up the wriggling jellyfish with a mix of pride and concern. "But…are we really going to eat these?"

Patrick looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Of course not! We're just collecting them for their jelly. It's the best part of jellyfishing!"

Sadboi felt a wave of relief wash over her. Her love for animals meant she couldn't stomach the thought of harming these beautiful creatures.

As they swam back to Patrick's rock, their nets filled with jelly, they talked about their favorite episodes of "Kamen Rider Build" and the latest adventures of their favorite heroes. It was a simple conversation, but to Sadboi, it was the most meaningful she'd had in a long time.

When they reached the rock, they found a surprise waiting for them. The French Narrator had set up a picnic with a variety of underwater treats: kelp sandwiches, sea cucumber sushi, and even a jellyfish jelly donut for each of them. "Bon appétit, mes amis!" He said, his voice a soothing melody in the water.

They sat around the makeshift picnic table, sharing their jellyfishing tales and munching on the delicious food. The camaraderie was palpable, and for a moment, Sadboi forgot about her past, about the fear and the running.

But as they laughed and joked, she felt a strange vibration in her vibesense. It was faint, but it grew stronger as she focused on it. It was coming from her phone. She pulled it out of her pocket to see a message from a familiar character from a game she'd spent countless hours playing: Hornet from Hollow Knight, the daughter of The Pale King and Herra the Beast.

"Hello, Sadboi," the message read. "I've heard your vibes resonating with the joy of this new world. I am in need of assistance. Can you feel the pain of the Kingdom of Hallownest?"

Sadboi's heart raced. Could it be true? Was she really receiving a message from one of her favorite characters? She looked around nervously, hoping her new friends hadn't noticed. But Patrick and Sponge Bob were too busy arguing over who had the better jellyfish jelly donut topping to pay attention.

"What's wrong, cubehead?" Patrick asked, noticing her sudden tension.

Sadboi took a deep breath, unsure of how to explain. "I-I just got a message from…someone. They need help." She said, trying to keep her voice steady.

The French Narrator, ever the observant one, swam closer. "Ah, it seems your adventures are about to take you to another dimension. Are you ready to embrace your destiny?"

With a nod, she turned to Patrick and Sponge Bob. "I have to go. Something important has come up."

Their expressions fell. "But what about jellyfishing?" Patrick asked, his voice filled with disappointment.

"And our sleepover?" Sponge Bob chimed in, his eyes wide with concern.

Sadboi felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry, guys. I promise I'll come back. But right now, I have to help someone."

Without another word, she turned to her phone and opened a portal to the world of Hallownest. The French Narrator gave her a salute. "Bon voyage, Sadboi. Remember, the adventure continues where you least expect it."

Stepping through the swirling mass of pixels and code, she found herself in the eerie, abandoned City of Tears. The ruins of a once-great kingdom lay before her, the air thick with the scent of decay and water, she coughed a little bit as dust entered her lungs. She knew she had to find Hornet, but first, she had to navigate this unfamiliar place. She knew what dangers lay here, so she kept her vibesense and mechanism assimilation on high alert. She focused on keeping her heartbeat from racing as she navigated the twisting underground city.

As she ventured deeper, she heard a faint melody, echoing through the caverns. It grew louder, a haunting tune that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the place. The vibration grew stronger in her chest, and she knew she was getting closer. Turning a corner, she saw a figure dressed in pale red, a needle-thin blade in hand. It was Hornet. The insectoid warrior looked up, her eyes locking onto Sadboi.

"You heard my call," Hornet spoke, her voice a mix of relief and urgency. "Our world is in peril. The infection spreads, and the Heart of Hallownest grows weaker."

Sadboi nodded solemnly, clutching her Meta Knight plushie tightly. "What do you need me to do?"

Hornet explained the dire situation. The Radiance, a malevolent force, was slowly consuming the world of Hallownest. Only the Heart of Hallownest remained, a beacon of hope in the desolate kingdom, but it was weakening. "The Infection has taken over, and we need to purge it," she said gravely.

The heavy task felt familiar to her, but without The Knight -- or any other vessels, for that matter -- in sight, her mind began to race with anxiety. The French Narrator's words of encouragement played like a distant lullaby in her mind, guiding her through the murky waters of doubt. "I need to be brave," she murmured to herself, her eyes focused on the path ahead.

Together, they ventured through the haunting landscapes of Hallownest, passing by the remnants of what was once a bustling metropolis. The silence was broken only by the distant cries of the few remaining inhabitants and the rhythmic clanging of Hornet's nails on the cobblestone streets. The air grew colder, the colors more muted, as they approached the Infected King's domain.

The duo encountered several hostile creatures along the way, but Sadboi's vibesense allowed her to predict their movements and act swiftly. With the help of her Meta Knight plushie, she found an unusual strength within herself, dodging and weaving through their attacks. Her mind raced with thoughts of the battles she had seen in her favorite show, and she couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with the heroes she had watched so many times.

As they reached the entrance to the Queen's Gardens, Hornet paused. "Sadboi, this is where I must leave you. The path ahead is too treacherous for even me. But fear not, I have faith in you."

Sadboi felt a lump form in her throat as she watched Hornet fly off into the darkness. "I won't let you down," she whispered, more to herself than to her new friend. She took a deep breath and stepped into the eerie garden, the vines and thorns reaching out like ghostly fingers.

The journey through the gardens was a blur of danger and determination. Her heart raced as she avoided the grasping roots and venomous spores that threatened to end her quest. The vibes grew stronger, a symphony of pain and despair that grew louder with every step she took towards the heart of the infection.

When she finally reached the chamber of the Heart, she was greeted by an overwhelming presence. The Heart of Hallownest pulsed with a sickly light, surrounded by a thick miasma that made her stomach turn. A sense of dread filled her, but she pushed it aside, remembering her newfound friends and the joy they had brought her.

With a deep breath, she stepped forward and placed her hand on the Heart. The energy surged through her, and she felt a strange connection to the very essence of Hallownest. The vibes grew stronger, and she could feel the pain of the corrupted world coursing through her veins.

Closing her eyes, she focused on the vibrations within her, channeling her love for 'Kamen Rider Build' and the strength she'd found in her new friends. The plushie in her hand began to glow a brilliant blue, and she felt the power of Meta Knight surge through her.

"Henshin!" she exclaimed, and the room was suddenly bathed in light. Her sweatshirt transformed into an elegant armor, and a gleaming sword appeared in her hand. She looked down at herself, astonished. The power of her favorite show had become a reality.

With newfound resolve, she faced the Infected King, who had emerged from the shadows, his form twisted and monstrous. He roared a challenge, and the battle began. The Heart pulsed with every clash of their weapons, and the very air grew thick with tension.

Sadboi's mind raced with tactics and strategies she'd seen in her favorite episodes. She dodged and parried, her movements fluid and precise. The Infected King was powerful, but she could feel the fear in his vibes. Each strike brought her closer to freeing the Heart from his corruption.

The fight was fierce, a dance of light and shadow. The Heart grew brighter with every hit she landed, and she knew she was getting closer to victory. But she also knew that this wasn't just about defeating a foe; it was about saving a world.

Her eyes flashed with determination, and she leaped into the air, delivering a powerful slash that cleaved the Infected King in two. The chamber was bathed in a blinding light, and when she landed, she found herself back in the serene waters of Bikini Bottom.

Her armor faded away, leaving her in her usual sweater and sweatpants. She looked around, bewildered. "What…just happened?" she murmured. She looked around for any sign of Hornet.

The French Narrator's voice was a soothing wave in her mind. "You've done it, Sadboi. You've purged the infection from Hallownest."

Her heart racing, she turned to find him hovering nearby. "But…how?"

"You possess a unique gift, my dear. The power of your imagination, combined with your vibesense, allowed you to tap into the fabric of reality and bring forth a hero from within. You are the Kamen Rider of your own story." He explained, a hint of a smile in his tone.

Sadboi looked down at her plushie, now returned to its normal state, and felt a strange warmth. "Does this mean I can…do it again?"

"Only when the need arises, and when your heart is pure." The Narrator assured her. "But for now, you've restored balance to one world. Let us return to your friends, and perhaps we shall find more adventures awaiting you in the multidimensional tapestry of existence."

She couldn't help but look around a bit, remembering Hornet.

The French Narrator's words lingered in her mind. "But what about Hornet?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"Ah, the inhabitants of the worlds you visit are bound to their own realities, my dear. They continue their lives as they always have, unchanged by your heroics. But fear not, for you have earned a place in their hearts, and perhaps in the annals of their legends." He offered a comforting smile, his diving helmet reflecting the warm glow of the Bikini Bottom sun.

With a nod, Sadboi allowed the Narrator to lead her back to Sponge Bob's pineapple house. Upon their return, Patrick and Sponge Bob looked up from their jellyfish jelly donuts, their eyes wide with surprise. "You're back!" Sponge Bob exclaimed. "How was…uh…what you had to do?"

Sadboi couldn't help but chuckle. "It was…unexpected. But I'm okay." She didn't dare to mention her interdimensional battle, not wanting to burden them with the weight of her newfound abilities.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of laughter and friendship. They played games and shared more stories about their favorite characters. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Sadboi felt like she truly belonged.

That night, as she lay in Sponge Bob's spare bed, surrounded by plushies of Bikini Bottom residents, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in her stomach. The world of Hallownest was safe for now, but what other worlds needed her help? What other battles would she be drawn into?

The vibes from her phone grew stronger again, a pulsing reminder of the endless adventures that lay ahead. With a sigh, she pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. "Tomorrow," she thought. "I'll face tomorrow."

[the-kr8tor]

You got games on your phone? 👀

That's actually so cool! I didn't know that!! What a subtle way to convey someone's character

Hmmm what does she know i wonder 🤔

Def he'd win everytime

Lmaoooo the ol office crush has gotten to her

YOO?! THE WAY I DIDN'T NOTICE THAT HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA His own subconscious is already smitten from the get go 😂

hobie ❤️ probie

He has his priorities straight!

BAHHAHAHAHHAHA they don't! I imagine that they share a building with a company that does 🤣🤣

LMAOOOOO THE WAY I GIGGLED I read that in sponge Bob's voice

Beef broccoli yummy

Woahh 😲 i didn't know that! Miguel better give them a salary at the end of their internship 😤

Charming as always!

R has some weird ass co workers 🤣🤣

HE IS OMG HE'S SMITTEN

I'd lowkey cry inside if i was r lol

Yeah over here it's just as excessive 😔 i mean we live in hell so it checks out

Fun fact! I got that earthquake bit bc it happened to me 😔 we all thought it was an earthquake and we all panicked and went outside but turns out it was just our class that went out 🤣🤣 very embarrassing for all of us highkey

He needs paid vacation leave

YES EXACTLY

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHA POOR R

Yeah :( when mj and r gets into the car mj's like "he's cute!" R: 🥲 yeah

Two Slow Dancers

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.2k

Synopsis: It's the very first day of your first 'real' job, with new faces and names, you find yourself fumbling over a handsome coworker. Will you survive the day?

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), a bit of loser! Hobie, The office AU, mockumentary AU, Coworkers AU, Coworker! Hobie, Reader has nicknames, one suggestive joke, CW food mentions, CW vomit mention, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @pleaktale for the idea!

Navigation

The camera zooms in on your confused expression until the lenses can see every single one of your pores. The producer clears her throat, and the camera man immediately tries to fix the view. The camera lense whirrs for a second before focusing on you as you sit on an old office chair in the corner of the conference room together with the drab eggshell white painted walls and a single plastic plant placed right next to you.

All you can see are the same drab white walls with thirty year old motivational posters tacked on it. The rows of plastic chairs are lined up in front of the whiteboard where a rolling table with a small box tv sits and collects dust. You feel like you're in an uncanny side of the world where everything is all paperwork and the sound of the photocopying machine whirs in the background amidst the smell of old carpet.

This is being a full fledged adult, you thought. You're starting to hate it already.

“Is this necessary? I just got here.” You chuckle nervously, fingers fixing your collar that doesn't need to be fixed.

“Yes, we need everyone's point of view.” The muffled voice of the producer echoes in the boom mic. “And please stop fiddling with your collar, the mic will pick up the sound.”

“Sorry,” you give her a tight smile. “Um, I guess I should give you my name?” They all nod simultaneously, making you more nervous than you already are on your first day of work. Saying your name without stuttering, you mentally pat yourself on the back for your accomplishment. “I–I just started today, and I'm very excited to work here at Connor's and Jameson's.” You smile sweetly at the camera, a rough cough from someone on the crew makes your smile falter. “C–can I go now?”

A sudden deep rumble can be heard through the mic, shaking you in your seat as you hold on to the armchair. “Woah!” As quick as it came, it subsides. “I think that was an earthquake!” You say, eyes wide in panic, fingers fiddling with your collar as your nerves get to you.

“No,” the producer behind the camera sighs, “there's construction just starting next door.”

“Oh,” You wish the earth could swallow you right now. Way to embarrass yourself on your first day, and on camera too. “Right, sorry.”

The scene shifts to your new boss, Miguel, as he watches the bullpen from his office with his watchful eyes. His hands are tucked behind his back, his large frame practically blocking the sun from his window. He sees the camera crew zooming in on him, and he awkwardly straightens up, weight subtly shifting from side to side.

The camera follows his gaze, landing on Lyla, who's chewing on the cap of her pen as she chats you up while you're working quietly on your desk. She wears a cheerful yellow button up complete with the same yellow pants. You gotta admit, she wears business well.

“I'm just saying, it's eat or be eaten in this office.” The boom mic captures her voice. And the camera moves from her to the entire bullpen that's quiet except for the sound of tapping keyboards and clicking mice. “But I'm sure you'll be okay, we're just selling electric toothbrushes. It's not the end of the world of you commit one fuck up.”

You stare at the camera with a wide look before glancing at Lyla. “T–thanks for the tip.”

Lyla tilts her head with a genuine smile, “no problem, newbie. If you need any help, you know where my department is.” As you nod and glance quickly at Miguel, who's still standing still inside his office, Lyla notices your nervous demeanor. She narrows her gaze at Miguel before flipping him the bird.

“Lyla!” You whisper yell, while Miguel presumably huffs in his office and closes the blinds right after.

“What? It's just office banter!” She returns her gaze to you, eyes softening at your nervous glance. “Nice blouse by the way! Pink suits you.”

The scene changes and now Lyla is the one in your former seat inside the conference room. “Let's just say that I have… some information on him.” She smirks before the camera lense zooms in on the window in the background where Miguel stares heavily on Lyla’s back, his nose flaring, and mouth etched in a deep frown. Lyla feels the presence, brows pinching together before looking over her shoulder. “Hey, boss man!” She says without a care in the world (Or without a care for authority no doubt,) while she waves at him casually.

The scene cuts back to you struggling on the copy machine.

The machine keeps eating all the paper you feed it, making a strange and awful creaking sound whenever you press the button. You're sure that you did everything Lyla taught you. The stack of paper goes into the side, then the file you're going to copy is placed on the scanner. Pressing a few more buttons, it should've spat out an exact copy instead of giving you a jumbled mess of paper that looks like a demonic curse was printed on it.

“Damn it.” You curse under your breath. Eyes glancing to the side, you see the camera crew practically stalking you by the pillar. You quickly change your demeanor, back straightening up, shoulders straight but your huffing through the boom mic can still be picked up unbeknownst to you.

Yanking the half eaten paper away from the slot, you internally curse the photocopy god for giving you this trial for your first day. Looking around the bullpen, you see Lyla in Miguel's office, probably getting chewed on for what she did earlier. You definitely cannot ask her for help. Gazing at your right, your other co-workers are busy with their tasks, tip tapping away at their computers with their blank stares. Well, except for that one intern you hadn't had the pleasure of meeting, who's playing minesweeper on his computer. Amazingly, he looks like he's winning.

Hands balled into fists, you're contemplating whether or not you should start throwing punches at the machine. Lyla did tell you its temperamental, maybe a quick punch would make it think twice from giving you hell.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout squarin’ up with the xerox machine?” A sudden new voice startles you in place. His tone is smooth, confident and deep that it sends good shivers down your arms. “Sorry, thought you need some help.” he chuckles, backing away from you when he notices your shocked expression. “You new ‘ere, huh?”

“It's okay,” your nerves bust through your shaky tone. “Uh, yeah, new associate– on probation for the next six months.”

He smiles sweetly, silver lip piercing drawing your attention towards his lips which you immediately correct your gaze by staring at his brow piercing instead. It didn't help much with your nerves, he looks handsome in every angle. It's not like you're looking for an office romance, it's not illegal to stare, right?

Your new acquaintance has his wicks in a ponytail, silver charms clinking against each other whenever he moves his head. He wears a dark button up, untucked and without a necktie. You find him unbelievably charming.

“‘m sure you'll get it. Once you get ol’ Jerry ‘ere to work for you.” He pats the machine as it whirs and eats another piece of paper. His lithe hand grabs your attention, silver rings dotted along it like he's about to play on stage.

You swallow thickly, avoiding staring too long. “J–Jerry?”

“Yeah, we named it after this bloke who worked ‘ere.”

“That's kind of nice.”

“He's not with us anymore.”

“Oh–” you blink, lips already forming apologies.

“He’s retired, we got him a cake and everythin’” you can see that he's trying to tamp down a laugh by how his Adam's apple bops up and down and from how he subtly bites his lip piercing. “Did you think—?”

“No.” You immediately say. He gives you a teasing look, brilliant hazel eyes that are a beautiful mix of brown and green gazes at you playfully. “T–That’s what I thought too.”

“Right,” he says, unconvinced. “My offer of help still stands. But after this you have to tame the bloody beast on your own.”

You nod, “please, I'm starting to rationalize whether I should punch it or not.”

He gives you a genuine smile, “that could work actually. I've seen people do it a few times.”

“Really?” You say with raised brows and a hint of a hopeful smile.

“Nah.” He shakes his head with a smirk, smile widening when you frown at him with an annoyed look. With a chuckle, he reaches towards the half eaten paper stuck inside, fingers wrapping around it to pull away. “‘m Hobie, Hobie Brown. I work in the post room.” He gestures with his head towards the cart full of envelopes and small parcels. “Or what I like to call it in a fancy way, the logistics room.”

“It's nice to meet you, Hobie.” You smile at him, and Hobie smiles back as he finally rips the page away with a rough tug. The paper is suddenly released, the force almost topples him over if not for your quick reflexes. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and you swear you felt his pulse quicken.

“You okay, Hobie?” As quick as you were, you retract your hand back to your side.

He nonchalantly clears his throat, fist gripping the paper in his palms. “Yeah, thank you…” he waits for your reply.

You give him your name, cheeks warm and palm suddenly clammy as you shift your feet from side to side to hide your bashfulness. With an inhale and your mind returning to the task at hand, you channel your bravery. “Care to teach me how to tame the beast?”

Hobie balls up the ruined paper all without leaving his eyes on you with a gentle smile. A bit unsure but definitely genuine. “Sure, I charge by the minute, by the way.” He jokes.

“Do you take lunch as payment?” You ride with his joke, hands placed inside your blazer pocket to again hide your shyness.

He grins, “I think we'll get along well, probie.”

You two have completely forgotten about the cameras. They got the whole interaction on film, complete with the lingering gazes and soft smiles you two seem to harbour.

—

“Hobie Brown.” He says while he's sitting on an office chair backwards, arms hugging the back of the chair and chin placed atop it casually. The producer eggs him on to continue with a single look. Hobie sighs, standing up swiftly before twirling the office chair away from him in one fluid and suave motion. “I work in the post room.” He crosses his arms on his chest, annoyed. “I've been ‘ere for three years. Don't like it, but it helps pay the bills, innit?”

“Can you tour us around the mailroom?” The producer asks in a hushed tone but loud enough to be captured by the boom mic.

“No.” He says flatly, already turning to leave the camera crew as he wheels his mail cart out of the room wordlessly.

The camera is left to just roam all over the organized chaos that is the mailroom. Everything seems to be in place but at the same time it's not. All the envelopes are in their correct spots on the large shelf on the far end of the wall, but all the boxes are shoved in a corner, all stacked up. It's a miracle that it's still standing without toppling over.

The mic picks up muffled chatter out in the hallway. Hurried footsteps can be heard as the crew follows the source of the sound. The camera peeks at the doorway, tilting to get a better look of you, who seems to be chatting Hobie up with a polite smile on your face.

“Mr. O’hara said that the shipping company messed up and gave us a different sample product.” You hold the box in your arms, clearly opened but was hastily closed off with masking tape. “He asked if you could send it back?” You ask sheepishly.

Hobie's whole demeanor seems to change as the white fluorescent light shines on your bashful eyes. “Sure, I know those blokes. I can even get it shipped for free.” He opens his arms, receiving the box from you, hands briefly brushing along his own. “They rarely fuck up, what's inside?”

“Uh,” you laugh nervously, cheeks aflame. “Something that is electric but definitely not a toothbrush—” before you could warn him, he shakes the box. It sets off numerous buzzing sounds inside. Hobie's neck snaps up towards you in a flash, with a smile slowly spreading across his amused face. “Yeah…” You wince, biting at your lower lip. “They're not toothbrushes.”

“Holy shit! It's—”

“Don't say it, Hobie!” You say through your grin. “Miguel was furious!”

His loud guffaw echoes down the hallway, making the boom mic pick up the sound, almost shattering the mic itself. Earning a high pitched sound emanate from it briefly. The poor sound tech had to take off his earphones lest he breaks his eardrums.

Hobie laughs harder. “I bet. I'd pay to see him all mad like that.” Shaking the box even more, the buzzing sound makes you chuckle, hand clasping over your mouth to tamp down your giggles. He mirrors your smile, finding your laughter contagious. After you've composed yourself, worthy of being your business self, he gestures towards the mailroom with his head. “You wanna see the post room, probie? It's not as glamorous as the bullpen but it's alright.”

“As long as you don't shake or god forbid, open the box.” You playfully gesture with your index at the box in his hands.

“Only if you ask.” He jokes back, or was it flirting on his end? Clearing his throat, he sees you widen your eyes, breath hitching in your throat. “I wouldn't, don't worry.” He immediately decides to remedy the awkwardness, feeling that he might've offended you. “There's a parcel ‘ere that's dated to be delivered in ten years. Don't ask why because I don't know.”

“In ten years? Weird, who's it addressed to?” You follow Hobie despite your thudding heart. He makes you feel like you're back in school again with all the crushes and lingering gazes across the classroom. Maybe it's not so bad to befriend someone else here that isn't Layla.

The camera crew immediately runs to the other end of the hallway to continue secretly filming the two of you, before you or Hobie could see them. Hobie opens the door for you, balancing his hold on the box and on the door.

“Yeah, it has your name on it.” You gasp right next to him. He smirks, eyes glancing at you teasingly. “Just fuckin' with you, probie.”

“I have a name, y’know.” You roll your eyes, seeing something move in your peripheral.

“You're probie until the lunch club says so.”

“The lunch club?” You ask, head tilting at the peeping camera from the corner of the hallway.

“You'll see,” Hobie shakes the box again to get your attention.

“You—! I told you not to shake it again!” Your giggles get muffled as you close the door behind you with a creak. The noise is followed by Hobie enthusiastically giving you a tour of the mailroom to the whole documentary crew’s amusement, and half disappointment.

—

You finally make it to lunch without a hitch. Without any more raunchy parcels and without you tripping over your own heels on the carpeted floors.

The camera follows right behind you, giving you enough space after you complained to Lyla in the HR department at how they've been too close to you, and hindering your work. (They haven't, you just find them annoying.) Hobie seems to have the same idea as you when he went to her office to tell them off too. According to him, ‘If I see another camera up in my face, I'll break their dodgy lenses.’ He said it with such gravitas that the documentary crew backed away immediately with their tails tucked in between their legs.

You grasp your lunch box in your hands, eyes roaming around the small break room with a few tables and chairs all grouped up. The vending machines on the side of the room whirr, its lights flickering in and out that has you suddenly creeped out. You blame Hobie for telling you a story about a night janitor that cleans the whole building even without its head attached to his neck.

Goosebumps appear on your arms when you remember how eerily he told it. Still, you were properly entertained before you had to go back to work, back to your drab computer with its boring programs and even more boring paperwork. Hobie makes it all bearable. You smile at the thought. Good thing that you're the only person in the breakroom, or your new coworkers would think that you're losing it. Then you remember the camera zeroing in on your face, you want to throw your lunch at them. If only it didn't cause you your job.

With a sigh, you claim the table nearest towards the vending machine. Sitting down your packed lunch, a bottle of your favourite iced tea grabs your attention inside the vending machine, begging to be let out of its glass confines.

Rummaging through your blazer, you could only find a stick of gum, and a button that magically flew out of your sleeve when you moved to grab a stapler earlier. You sigh, longingly staring at the sweetened tea. You bet that it'll help make your miserable first day a bit better. But alas, you're too lazy to go back to your desk to quickly grab your wallet.

Suddenly, an arm appears next to you, you almost screamed at the appearance if not for the recognizable rings around his fingers.

“Hobie, you scared me!” You clutch your imaginary pearls. “I thought you were—”

“The night janitor?” He smirks teasingly. You find him adorably infuriating. “D’you still need that change?” Glancing at his hand that's clutching the coin, it’s ready to be placed inside the coin slot, just waiting for your cue.

The camera crew backs away further into the corner, having the perfect view of the entire room and your interaction.

“I—” you wince when you pat down your other pocket, cursing at how your pencil skirt doesn't even have pockets. “— will you, please?” Great, your embarrassment will transcend through TV screens from now on.

Hobie smiles softly, coin clinking inside the machine as it falls. “Choose your poison, probie.”

Without a doubt, you press the number that correlates to your favourite drink. “Thanks, Hobie. I'll pay you back later. I'm supposed to be buying you lunch, remember?” You crouch down as the bottle tumbles down with a thud, falling right into your waiting hand. It's cold to the touch, the bee mascot on the packaging greets you with a cartoonish smile.

“Don't mind it, I have my own lunch. Save the IOU for another day.” he says as he sits down, setting his own lunch adjacent to yours. “Take it as a welcome gift.”

You turn around to face him, having a hard time opening the bottle cap. “And here I thought you wanted me out of here.”

Hobie scoffs without malice laced in it. The camera lense zooms in on his gentle smile. “Please, I don't give a tour to anyone in my post room just like that.” He gestures for the bottle wordlessly, fingers opening and closing in a come hither motion.

“I thought you brought all the new girls in there.” Teasing, you sit down in front of him, handing him your drink which he opens for you without a struggle. “Thanks.” He hands it back, warm fingers unintentionally brushing along your own.

“Not all the new girls.” He shrugs. “Jus’ the ones with the weak wrists.”

“Hey!” You chuckle, “rude. The cap was screwed in too tightly.”

“Sure, probie.” He opens his lunchbox, the smell of savoury meat and sautéed vegetables makes your hastily made sandwich look like it came from a microwavable meal.

“Wow.” You blink at the perfectly cooked rice. “Is that turmeric in the rice?”

Puffing up his chest, he smugly smiles. “Yeah, Beef broccoli with oyster sauce.”

“Damn,” you look down at your regular white bread egg sandwich. “Wanna switch?”

He chuckles, “no.” He makes sure to enunciate.

“Worth a try.” You mirror his smile. “Did your girlfriend or partner make it?”

“Nope, no girlfriend. Made it myself.” He says the last sentence proudly.

No girlfriend, huh? “It's pretty amazing that you have time to prep meals.” You take a bite of your abysmal lunch.

“That's what gets you when you don't have a partner.” Hobie scoops out a decent amount of his meal with his spoon, “your sandwich is…”

“Shit, I know.”

Chuckling, Hobie looks at you through his shining hazel eyes. “I was gonna say alright, but that works too.”

You take a sip of your iced tea, letting the cool drink douse your obvious shyness and flustered state whenever you converse with him. Lyla's words during the orientation keep repeating in your head, ‘no office romance,’ she said. ‘It's too complicated,’ she said. Is it though?

“So what's the lunch club? Shouldn't they be meeting up right about now?” Just as you said it, the doors swing open, revealing three college aged kids in their business outfits.

“Sorry we're late. Pav here needed to finish something.”

“Don't blame me,” The one with the flowy hair and dark brown suit scrunches his nose. “You're the one who's playing minesweeper all day, Miles.”

“The fields aren't getting cleared all by themselves, y'know?”

The only girl in the group sighs and rolls her blue eyes, pausing in the doorway once she sees you sitting with Hobie. “Well, who do we have here?” Her voice puts a stop to the arguing.

“Meet the new girl. Gwen, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet Gwen.” Hobie gestures over to the blond then to you.

“Hi, it's a pleasure.” You say whilst quickly chewing your food to appear somewhat presentable when they caught you mid chew.

“Oho, so she's the one you've been yapping about, Hobie.” Gwen crosses the small distance, palm patting Hobie on his shoulder. “Now it's really nice to meet you.”

“You talk about me?” You tilt your head, eyes narrowed playfully.

“He will not shut up, trust me.” Pav waves towards you in greeting. “I'm Pavitr by the way! I wish you could meet Gyatri but she's out sick.” He sighs, sinking down on the chair.

“It's nice to meet you, Pavitr.” You smile genuinely at the seemingly lovestruck Pavitr.

“Don't mind him, he just misses his girlfriend.” The one in a white button up and black lopsided necktie holds out his hand to you. “I'm Miles Morales.”

“Pleasure,” you shake his hand briefly while Hobie watches you interact with three of them. The documentary crew fades in the background, practically a fly on the wall by now that the group has gotten used to their cameras and lights. “I'm guessing this is the lunch club?”

“That's what Hobie told you?” Gwen sits down next to you, sliding drinks she got from the vending machine towards each of her friends. “We're more like the gossiping slash complaining club.”

You chuckle, “you guys are interns?”

“Unpaid interns.” They all say simultaneously in the same monotonous tone.

“It should be Illegal.” Hobie says, elbows placed on the table to address you fully.

“Not being paid for work in the guise that it's just an internship therefore the ‘pay’ is experience?” You make quotation marks with your fingers. Hobie raises an amused brow while the three share a knowing look that you can't quite decipher.

“That and interns.” Hobie shrugs with a smile, you snort at his joke, gazes lingering for a second before returning to each of your meals.

Gwen smirks and nudges Hobie's leg with her foot. The camera picks up and records their wordless conversation before she turns towards you. “If not for me then the mailroom would be a complete mess.”

“It's organized, Gwendy.”

“Well you did a shit job at organizing it.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you.”

Miles leans towards you, “Hobie's technically her boss.”

“Doesn't look like it. They argue like siblings.” You watch them with amusement, eyes crinkling in the corners. You decide to save everyone's lunch, “so… the lunch club is just you guys chatting about?”

“It’s more than that!” Pav says while he quickly swallows his lunch, “it's a way of life!”

“We sometimes meet up to play a gig at some dinghy place, or to just hangout after work.” Gwen smiles at you, hand clasped around her drink after Miles tried to switch it with his. “Wait!” Her blue eyes sparkles, “you haven't told her that you're in a band, Hobie!”

The trio gives Hobie a wry smile. Mischief glimmering in their eyes. “Yeah, Hobie, tell her about that time you played for one thousand people.” Pav nudges him with his elbow with a wink that you missed.

“You're in a band?!” Your expression brightens. “That's so cool! My roommate’s in a band, what do you play?”

Hobie throws the trio a quick glare before clearing his throat. “The guitar—”

“Just don't ask him to serenade you— Ow!” Gwen flinches in her seat, gaze narrowed at Hobie.

Your smile gets brighter, “you must be good at it then, playing for a thousand souls isn't a walk in the park.”

“Pav’s exaggeratin’, it was only a hundred or so.”

“Please,” Miles scoffs with a raised eyebrow. “It was definitely more than ‘a hundred or so.’” He copies Hobie's accent imperfectly. “You should've seen him,” he points at Hobie with his thumb while animatedly talking and clearly gassing him up. “He was basically Freddie Mercury up there— Ow, what?!” He stares at Hobie as if his looks could burn a hole through his head.

“He has a show next week—” Pav suddenly exclaims. “don't you dare, Hobie!” He points accusingly at Hobie. A moment passes while the two have a stare off. Meanwhile, the camera zooms in under the table where Hobie's foot is threatening to kick at Pav's leg.

Hobie sighs, blinking away his annoyance, (and putting his foot down) “it's in the white horse pub, if you're free next weekend.”

“Drinks are on Hobie—!” Gwen quickly says before twisting in her seat, effectively dodging Hobie's attack. “You should go! The rest of the band will appreciate a new face in the crowd.”

“Are you guys sure?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I don't want to impose.”

“Impose away, probie.” Hobie smiles at you, dimples in full display. “‘sides, the pub’s fish and chips are unmatched.” His eyes sparkle under the fluorescent light of the vending machines.

You nod bashfully. “Sure. You had me at fish and chips.”

The trio share a knowing look before side eyeing the camera simultaneously with the same expression while you and Hobie gaze at each other with slight trepidation.

—

Before your first day could end, Miguel O’Hara calls everyone in the conference room for a quick meeting. You highly doubt that it's a quick meeting though since there's only thirty minutes before the day could officially end. Couldn't he just email it instead? Or maybe this is about *that package. If it is, you don't want to go.

With a huff and a quick but tired look at the camera, you make your way towards the conference room. As you enter, Miguel stands at front, muscular arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning the room.

You avoid his stare, finding that your new boss scares you just a tiny bit with his air of authority around him.

Leather shoes and heels shuffle on the floor as each employee finds their place on their seat. You find the farthest chair to sit on in hopes of staying invisible. The plastic chair squeaks as you sit, cringing at the sound, knowing that the mic probably picked it up. You're starting to hate this documentary crew following your every move. Who would even find an electric toothbrush company entertaining to watch? Moreso to film its day to day operations? It's a complete mystery to you.

The room slowly fills up with you sitting at the back, your fists bunch up at your skirt with your nerves bothering you as Miguel scans his brown eyes around the room. The man sitting in front of you twists in his seat, a smile etched on his face.

“You're the new kid, huh?” You nod at him sheepishly as he reaches for you in greeting. “I'm Peter B. Welcome to the shit show.”

“Nice to meet you?” You shake his hand despite what he said.

The woman next to him sighs audibly, curls bouncing as she looks over her shoulder over to Peter. “Don't depress the poor kid on her first day, Peter.” With a polite smile, she addresses you. “I'm Jessica, don't listen to him, he's nihilistic. And likes to scare the newbies.”

“Well, I couldn't do it to Harry, might as well do it to— what's your name again?” Peter raises a brow at you.

“I haven't given it to you yet.” Chuckling nervously, you give him your name, fists unfurling around your skirt as you find them weirdly comforting. Like your favourite aunt and uncle you only get to see during the holidays.

“And I'm that Harry.” Someone suddenly speaks on your right. You almost jump in place if not for his gentle and unassuming smile. “I was hired a month before you.”

You take his waiting hand and shake it politely, finding his hand warm and friendly. “Y/N. Got any advice?”

Harry chuckles, a strand of auburn hair falling over his eye which he quickly brushes away casually. “My advice?” You nod, “go with the flow, and don't take it too seriously. The world won't catch fire if you accidentally mess up your documents. Worst case is that someone won't be able to brush their teeth for a few days.”

“Thanks.” You utter with a chuckle.

“No problem, oh, and uh, stay away from the bathroom on the second floor.”

You blink, curiosity written all over your face. “Why? Did someone die there?” You whisper the last sentence.

Harry leans closer, whispering back, pausing for suspense as you wait with trepidation. “...No, the other workers in the building just like to take a dump in there.” With every word, his smile grows. “Why would you think someone died there?” He says teasingly.

Just as you laugh, Hobie finally enters the room with the trio in tow. Miguel gives them a sour look for being late. You glance at him, “I think someone gave me that idea.”

Harry shakes his head with a smile, leaning away as Hobie sits down on your left. Harry gives him a polite nod before glancing softly at you and returning his attention to the front of the room. The camera zeroes in on Hobie's colder gaze at the man right next to you.

“What'd I miss?” He crosses his leg over the other casually, foot nudging you gently.

“Not much, just a few introductions—” Miguel's voice suddenly calling your name interrupts you. You feel like a student again when a teacher scolds you for talking in class. “Yes— sorry?” You stand up lightning quick, hands sweaty and stomach plummeting down.

“I was going to ask if you want to introduce yourself.” Miguel blinks at you, suddenly, you feel the room shrinking and with everyone's eyes on your trembling form.

You want to run and hide somewhere. Maybe not in the second floor bathroom.

“Uh, yeah, s–sure.” You curse yourself internally for fumbling over your own words. Saying your name, your throat feels like it's about to close on you. Someone coughs within the crowd, you feel faint. Hobie notices, the back of his hand brushes atop yours. You look down at the source, and he nods and smiles at you, encouraging you gently. “And I— I'm excited to work with all of you.”

Miguel nods, satisfied, giving you a glance as he tells you to sit back down. You can see Lyla give you a thumbs up from her seat up front.

“Nice job,” Hobie whispers to you, shoulder nudging your own. You inhale deeply whilst the camera lens focuses on you and Hobie. Miguel's words drones on, fading in the background. “Oi,” he says gently, “just breathe, yeah? It's over, you did brilliantly.”

“I think I'm gonna vomit.” You huff, trying to inhale and exhale out your bundle of nerves. “I almost fucked that up.”

“But you didn't.” Smiling, he taps your hand with his pinky. “Keep breathin’ for me. Don't want you gettin' sick all over the floors. What would the night janitor think about you now.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth to quiet down your chuckles. “Thank you, Hobie. I'm sorry that you have to keep saving me.”

Your whispered words make him grin, hiding how his cheeks grow warmer atop his shoulder. “No problem, it's part of my job description—”

“Hobie Brown!” Miguel's voice echoes from the front towards the back of the room, you flinch at the sound. “What do you do during an earthquake?”

Hobie's brows pinch together in confusion. “Why?”

Miguel rubs at the skin in between his eyes. Cameras flicking over to him and over to Hobie, who's grinning mischievously. The trio, except for Gwen, mirrors his playful grin.

“Dios mio, it's because we've been talking about an earthquake drill for the past five minutes.” You can tell that Miguel’s holding back from swearing.

“Ah, that.” Hobie smirks, feigning confusion. You swear he was actually listening to Miguel while he was talking to you. “Get on the floor and roll over?”

You almost laughed, Pav does, which was immediately extinguished by Miguel's stern stare.

“No, that's for when there's a fire.” Miguel gestures towards Harry right next to you. “Osborne.”

“Duck, cover and hold.” He shrugs, glancing at you, or was he staring over you and towards Hobie instead?

“Good,” Miguel breathes out a sigh, “the company wants us to practice what to do in the event of an earthquake.”

Hobie snickers in place. While Miles raises a defiant hand. “But there hasn't been an earthquake in New York since 1884.”

Miguel pauses like he's also thinking on why the company would instruct him that. “They just want to cover all the bases.” He says confidently, you admire at how fast he came up with that. “Lyla here will show you how—”

The floor suddenly shakes, and you grip at the nearest thing near you, which is coincidentally, Hobie's hand.

“Earthquake!” Lyla yells atop her lungs, already running out of the room in haste, leaving everyone to fend for themselves. Everyone follows right behind her, panic settling in everyone.

Hobie glances at you, with a playful wink, he launches off his chair, hand clutching at your wrist gently. You follow a half second later, heels clicking against the floor as you try to keep up with his long strides.

“Wait! It's just the—” Miguel gets bumped by Peter, stumbling briefly before catching himself. “Lyla! It's just the construction next door!” Still, everyone sprints off, leaving him alone in the room.

With everyone either in a panic or just following the crowd without an ounce of haste, Hobie seems to be having the time of his life. Cackling above Lyla's high pitched screams whilst he holds onto your wrist.

“C’mon, probie! Don't want the buildin’ to fall on you now!” He says while running with measured steps on the stairs of the fire exit. You're sure that running out of a building during an earthquake isn't wise, but the shake wasn't technically an earthquake.

Your panic is replaced with something lighter, smiling as he holds onto you. “Do you know it's just the—?” Foot stumbling over the other whilst you two run down the stairs, he immediately twists around when he feels that you've become suddenly weightless right behind him. “Shit!”

“Got you!” Hobie's arms catch you mid air as you instinctively yelp and grab a hold of him. His back hits the wall in a groan, eyes briefly closing from the sudden ache. “You alright?”

“Me?! Are you okay?!” You actually panic now, scanning him for injuries, head craning to look at the back of his head. Thankfully, you don't find any injuries. “Oh thank fuck.” Thumping your head on his shoulder, he chuckles as his hands hovers above your back.

The rush of footsteps subside, and you two are left alone on the staircase. His shallow breaths echo while you lean away, but still near enough to see his dimples and how flustered you look in his gorgeous eyes.

“Sorry for draggin’ you around, love.” The new nickname has your head craning up to look at him at lightning speed. “Thought you could keep up.”

You two don't notice the lone cameraman atop the stairs, watching the scene unfold, all the while having a front row seat.

Your palms are on his chest, lips slightly agape, eyes gazing into his hazel eyes. “I did, you're not the one wearing heels, Hobie.”

“There you go, fight back, love.” His voice warms your chest as he smiles at you and only you.

Heart beating rapidly, you hear footsteps from behind, and you immediately unlatch yourself from Hobie. His warmth is left etched on your form, eyes glancing shyly at him, finding that he's already staring at you with the same softness.

“Good, you're still here.” Miguel huffs from the top of the stairs, “get the others back up here.”

The scene shifts to Miguel sitting alone in his office, looking disgruntled and tired. “I want to quit.” He says in a flat tone.

—

It's finally time to go home. You close your computer and grab your things, waving goodbye to Lyla, who's staying behind to work on paperwork. You guess that's her punishment for setting off panic in the whole office.

Mind recounting your whole day, you enter the elevator on auto pilot. The elevator door starts to close, but a hand reaches in between the closing doors, effectively opening it.

Hobie's expression brightens when he sees you.

“Hi, Hobie.” You smile, holding the door for him to give him time to enter.

“Love.” He tips his head to you, joining you in the elevator. He puts on his leather jacket filled with shiny spikes and buttons all around it, atop his button up, making him look like a tough businessman of sorts. “Headin’ home?”

“Yep,” you pop the letter ‘p’ whilst trying your best not to ogle him. “My roommate’s picking me up, we're gonna go celebrate with a couple pints of ice cream.”

“Cute.” He mumbles, quickly clearing his throat right after.

“Huh?” You glance at him, heart thudding, and hands clammy around your bag.

“I said that it's adorable, celebratin’ your first day.”

“You think it's childish?” Your brows pinch together.

“Didn't say that,” he backtracks, “I think it's nice to celebrate it.” You hum in reply. “I didn't mean—” Side eyeing him, you tamp down your laughter by biting down on your lip. He catches on immediately. Shaking his head with a fond smile, Hobie leans on the elevator wall, hands casually shoved in his pockets. “Cheeky.”

“Learned from the best.” You shuffle on your feet to hide your shyness. “What happened to the camera crew?”

“They went home, they have regular hours too y’know. Why, you miss ‘em?”

“God, no.” The doors open with a ding as Hobie chuckles at your reply. You exit the elevator, shoulders aching from how much you've been sitting down today.

“Before I forget.” Stepping off, he opens the glass door for you, propping it open with his body as he rummages through his pockets. You wait for him patiently, watching as he pats all his pockets. “‘ere.” Handing you a piece of paper, he waits for you to read it.

“Is this?” Reading the contents written in his handwriting, complete with a little doodle of the iced tea you had for lunch. Your eyes soften under the orange sunset.

“The recipe for my beef broccoli I had for lunch.” He shrugs, hand scratching at the back of his head as he stares anywhere that isn't your shining eyes. “It's easier than you think it is. It only took me about 30 minutes to cook because I chopped everythin’ up and prepped it the night before. I stopped eatin’ at shitty fast food places when I learned to do it myself.” He rambles on nervously, hiding his sweet gesture with numerous explanations.

You pat his arm before pocketing the recipe for safekeeping. “Thank you, Hobie. I'll make sure to make extra for you.”

The corner of his lips tug up into a gentle smile. “Make sure you give me an extra serving of beef then, love.”

You nod, heart beating loudly against your chest. “Does this mean I'm part of the lunch club now?”

“‘Course.” He says it like it's the most obvious thing ever. “The council has approved your membership. That includes the rest of my band mates.”

“And here I thought the council only consisted of you and a trio of teenagers.” You take a jab at him in an effort to tease him.

“Fuckin' cheeky, you're hangin’ ‘round me too much—”

A familiar weight suddenly falls on your shoulders. “Who's this tall drink of—”

“MJ!” You immediately clamp her mouth shut with your hand to save yourself the embarrassment. “This is Hobie, my coworker.”

Hobie's brows furrow, the cogs in his head turn at the sight of the red haired. “I think I know you from somewhere.”

Mj moves your hand away before answering. “Wait, I think I know you too!”

Recognition flits over their faces, eyes widening. “You're in that band!” They say at the same time while pointing at eachother.

MJ leaves your side, and Hobie fist bumps her hand in greeting. You're standing in between them so you back away a little to give them space. You smile at their interaction, it's such a small world that they actually know each other. You're happy that your best friend is acquainted with your new friend.

“You're in ‘Mary Janes,’ right?” Hobie's smile grows bigger.

“Bitch, I am the Mary Jane!” She gestures in a ‘here I am’ pose, continuing to chat him up.

“Shit, I like your music, mate.”

“Dude, yours absolutely fucks hard!” Mj jumps on the balls of her feet excitedly. “I saw you guys play last month, the crowd was wild!”

“We have a gig next week at the white horse, wanna come with?”

“Fuck yeah, my guy!”

As they talk, you blend into the background. Your mouth opens to try to get a word in, but their enthusiastic words plow over your own. Your smile falters as they slowly forget about you standing on the side. So you wait, and wait like a kid waiting for their parent to stop talking to someone they bumped into at the grocery store.

Your first day wasn't so bad, right?

[ducktracy]

porky’s voice gradually turns into daffy’s and of course i’m way too enamored with it than what i need to be

[alien-aishas]

me, discarding items for the Living with Less event:

[theepisceswriter]

Sending nudes/sexting w/ JJK characters (Nanami, Toji, Gojo, Mei Mei)

Synopsis: Do y’all need one fr? I think the title is self explanatory

TW: mature things obviously, GN!reader, typos like always, nothing outside or masturbation and nudes really, 18+, MINORS DNI!

NANAMI

Yeah, yeah you miss Nanami’s cuddles, kisses, hugs, and all that soft shit when you spend the whole day without him because of his work schedule, but you also miss that long schlong that’s attached to him. Work has given him such a hectic schedule that sometimes you go a week without having any sex and it drives you crazy and Nanami might not show it, but it drives him crazy as hell too. He’s just praying for an off day so he can get that sweet release from you that he needs.

Though sexting is not the same as physical sex, any form of sexual attention from him is needed. So, bravely one day you decided to send him a picture of you in nothing but one of his button ups barely covering your body while he’s at work. To be fair, you did wait until a time when you knew he usually wasn’t busy and the office was nearly empty.

When I tell you this photo has him blushing like a school girl and horny immediately; he forgets how to breathe for a good two minutes and it takes the sound of someone’s footsteps to bring him back to reality and remember the setting he was in. 

You see, sexting really isn’t Nanami’s cup of tea. He’s big on intimacy and physical touch and sexting hardly fulfills any of his desires. He’d much rather have you in front of him in person. You see those three little lines pop up thinking he’s going to describe to you in detail what he’s going to do to you once he gets off and how much he’s been feening for you too, but no! Instead, all you get is a text that reads “On my way.”

Nanami isn’t the type to call off of work or leave early, but it’s from that picture that he realizes how wanting you must be for him and he can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt, but also realize just how bad he’s been wanting you. The drive home for him is 30 minutes? He’s making it home in like 10, knuckles gripping the wheel and all as he thinks about rushing home to you and your body.

He doesn’t even greet you when he comes in the house. Immediately opting to connect his lips to yours to initiate the long night between you two that’s going to unfold.

“My poor baby. I’ve been so neglectful to you lately, haven’t I? I’m sorry, I’m going to make it up to you so good tonight. Lay back and let me take care of you tonight.” And take care of you is exactly what he does.

TOJI

You could text Toji for hours on end, tell him your house got burned down and you now live in Bikini Bottom with Sponge-bob, and he still wouldn’t budge. He doesn’t even have to be out doing a job, if he doesn’t see it as urgent urgent then he’s getting back to you in like 2-3 business days minimum.

Let you send him a text that’s like “Currently in bed thinking about you with my hand between my thighs because I haven’t seen you all day.” And all of a sudden his fingers are moving fast like lightening as he texts you back. 

Most likely going to respond with something like “I’ll show you mins if you show me yours” Because that man is a menace that should be locked up. You don’t even have to send one for real though because three minutes later your phone is pinging with a dick pic from him; two bottles resting on dick just to show how big it is because he’s a show off. Might even send you a video of him moving it without his hands in return for some soapy titty pics.

Nudes of you make him go absolutely feral and has him in the bed huffing and puffing as he uses his hands to recreate the feeling of you, but you would never know that because he responds with shit like “So sexy looking”

He’s kinda ass at sexting lowkey.

He’s not too big on dirty talk while sexting, pictures and videos say everything that he needs to, but guarantee that he brings it up once the two of you are finally able to meet up in person. “So you said you were going to do what now to me?” “Sre we going to do what we talked about in those messages or whatr?” Of course, he holds you to your word and the two of you indeed do what you said over text. 

GOJO

You already knew what the night was going to be like as soon as you got that “U up?” Text from Gojo. Not only was it almost 1 in the morning, but the two of you hadn’t seen each other physically in almost a month and you could just hear the desperation in his voice from when he had called you earlier talking about how much he missed you; him being in front of others being the only thing stopping him from going into great detail about what exactly he missed.

You didn’t even need to reply to him. The fact that you had read it was enough confirmation for him and minutes later you were getting sent a video with his dick as his thumbnail, just out and erect with his hand at the base of it and some lubricant covering it to make it look shiny and presentable.

“Fuck, y/n. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about you bouncing up and down on my cock all month long. I need you so bad right now.” The sweet moans of your name leaving his mouth and the bucking of his hips into his hands once you pressed play on the video were enough to get you in the mood as well. Quickly you’re stripping your clothes off and sending him videos of you in all types of angles, but that’s not enough for him.

Next thing you know he’s facetiming you and the two of you are on the phone having a mutual masturbation session. The sight of each of you two getting off to each other getting off was enough to make both of you cum more than once. It takes him going completely soft and finally getting all that pent up sexual tension out of him to finally hang up.

MEI MEI

Someone get this woman an only fans account because the horny content she sends you should not be free. When I say this woman puts work into the videos and pictures she sends to you, I mean it.

I’m talking a ring light set up to make her angles look appeasing, special lingerie just for pictures to take to send to you, and a phone with amazing quality. She goes all out for you like a professional because she wants you to use them more than once, she wants to make some quality spank bank material for you so you wont even think about going on twitter again when you’re horny.

Tell me shouldn’t have a very popular OnlyFans. You can’t cause you’d be lying to yourself.

She’s such a big tease. She’d send you a picture of her titties all oiled up in a bikini that’s barely covering anything but her nipples along with a text message that’s like “They miss you );” .....While you’re at work because she’s just such a tease like that.

Glances inside of her underwear, boomerangs of her shaking her ass for you, and quick glimpses of her nipple; anything but giving you the real thing. Her whole objective with nudes is to make you want her more and show you what you’re missing out on by not being with her in the moment.

It’s not until you’re sending pictures and videos of yourself begging you to help her out that she finally does and it’s still not with pictures or videos in return ! Instead, she’ll text you through your orgasm in vivid description of what she wants to do to you and bring up past sexual experiences like, “Remember that time when we I picked you up from work and we couldn’t wait until we went home so we fucked right there in the backseat of the car?”

Big on helping you visualize things, so honestly you don’t even need her to go all out.