#i need to read them all again and make notes

[heartyluv]

Note: This quite literally came to me in a dream. Like…I WAS THERE. I HAD TO WRITE IT. Genuinely, I am in love with this. No need for me to yap. I hope you enjoy. Love you, beauties!

Warning: Smut, Sylus talks about killing while he’s in you, he pours syrup on them 🍒 and licks it off, he has battle scars, very brief mention of him wanting to claim you in blood (IT’S NOT CRAZY WHEN YOU READ IT, PROMISE!!!), slight breeding kink

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: The Empire’s beloved gladiator has had another day of monumental success and wants you as his victory night cap.

Gladiator!Sylus/Reader

When your name is spoken, your skin prickles with goosebumps from anticipation. After every arena held, this is what you always looked forward to.

“He has called for you.”

You look up from the book you’ve been reading, briefly scanning the dining hall that you were sitting in with several other women and feeling their gaze bore into you. Once you give your attention back to the guard who was usually the one to bring you to your champion, you nod and stand.

“Again?” one scoffs, seemingly believing she’s doing so silently enough for you not to hear.

“Out of all the women in the Empire, of all the women here,” another whispers. “He continues to choose—“

“Mind your tongue, new blood,” her maybe friend interrupts. “Have you gone mad? Should she tell him of your venomous and foolish words, you will suffer the consequences. He’s proven so before.”

The golden jewelry decorating your body clinks and jingles with each movement as you slide on your simple sandals to protect your feet from the dirt and stone floor. All eyes are on you when you make your way out the door, silently following behind the large man who was no feat compared to the one whose bed you’d warm tonight.

Everyone within and out of your grandiose town treated you with respect, even the ones who harbored jealousy for you or for the man your soul belonged to. They had no choice if they valued their life and if they didn’t know better, they were always soon made aware.

So in your short journey to the extravagant halls in which your warrior rested after his wins, each individual along your path nodded their heads or turned away out of respect. None were to even speak to you if it wasn’t by his order.

Your Sylus.

The gladiator who’s never lost a fight. One who is so victorious that he’s not just a staple in your town and several others, but in the entire Empire.

A man whom has never been conquered. At least, not physically.

No, the only thing of his that has been claimed and owned by another was his heart. And it was yours.

“Good night, miss.” The guard offered his farewell once you were right outside the giant wooden doors that led to your beloved beast.

After he has fully departed, you softly knock twice to alert Sylus of your arrival.

“Come in, kitten.” He’s memorized everything that is you. How you talk, smell, walk, knock, breathe—it’s all information and knowledge he has safely tucked in his mind. Even if he hadn’t called for you, he would’ve known those gentle raps against his door to be his lover.

Once you enter, the large warm candlelit room was perfectly illuminated to grant you the glorious sight of a nearly nude Sylus, a thin ivory sheet laying across his hips being the only thing separating your eyes from his thick cock that makes an impressive tent beneath.

“Beautiful,” he grins as he takes you in, one strong muscled arm flexing while he rests a hand behind his neck. The white-silver hair atop his head matches the patch beneath his armpit and the trail that sneaks below his bellybutton and beneath the duvet. His hard and large body is adorned with dozens of scars with stories to tell—most old, a few new.

“Congratulations on your success today, my love,”you note after shutting the door, bowing in the way you’ve seen so many do to him before. “I watched it all.”

“I know you did.” He holds a hand out to you. “And I’ve told you, no need for the formalities. Come. I’ve missed my woman.”

“Have you now?” you tease, kicking off your shoes. “It’s only been a few days.”

“A second without you is a poor existence. Tell me, have you not ached for me to the same degree, sweetie?”

“Perhaps once I’m sitting on your cock, you can let me know if you can feel how badly I’ve craved you.”

His dick throbs at your words, his body shifting as if it would relieve any of the pressure. Beginning to walk barefoot toward him, he puts up a hand to halt you, grinning at the way you meet his gaze head on.

“Get undressed for me. Show me my prize.”

You lick your lips, staring into his mesmerizing rubies as you tug the thin material of your dress down your shoulders. Quickly does it pool at your feel, leaving you in nothing but all your bangles and necklaces that he has gifted you.

He likes when you wear the things he buys you, so you don’t work to remove any of the expensive gold.

Once you’re at the side of his bed, he quickly pulls you in by the waist with strength seemingly inhumane, placing you on top of him. The only thing keeping him from slipping inside of you right now is the dreaded blanket, but you can feel his dick trying to nestle between your pussy lips, making you shiver.

He kisses all over your tits, sucking and nipping at your flesh to mark you in ways only he can. Your hand tangles in his hair as the soft crackle of the fireplace behind you sets the romantic atmosphere.

“I see they’ve fed you well,” you smile, looking at the assortment of fruits, cheese, sweets, and syrups he has on his bedside.

“This was intended to be my dessert after the feast they granted me.” He takes your nipple into his mouth, pulling a sexy moan from you. “But I had a different one in mind. A better one. My only one.”

Your hips try to rock in an effort to feel him more, but he holds you still by your waist. “Don’t rush this, kitten. Let me take my time with you. I like to savor my rewards.”

“Some rewards need to be claimed faster than others.”

“Indeed they do,” he grins into your neck as he peppers kisses down the kiss of your throat. “But greed…it’s a slippery slope. Grab the syrup, since you’re so eager.”

You’re not confused at all by his intentions. In fact, the mere thought of what he’s getting ready to do makes you clench around nothing.

Once you grab the small dish of berry syrup, he takes two generous handfuls of your ass, tilting his head lightly. “Pour some on yourself.”

“You’ll clean me?” you grin, using your other hand to take hold of his throat gently. He looks up at you with need, groaning when you lick his lips.

“Do what I say and we’ll find out, won’t we?”

You two stare into one another’s eyes as you tilt the bowl to let the sweetness stick to your tits. Immediately, Sylus’s hot tongue laps it up. The wet muscle licks down the valley of your breast before he alternates between two of his favorite things to give each of them the attention they deserve.

Your cunt throbs and your whines grow louder the harder he sucks.

“Yes…F—fuck, your mouth…” you cry, pouring more of the delicacy when he runs out. You go until the thing is empty and he’s running on lust and a sugar rush.

The soft pops his mouth sounds when he makes contact with your hot body is enough to have you completely soaked. He can feel your juices wetting the sheet, letting his cock know as it soaks it up, how badly you need him.

“Be good,” he mumbles breathlessly, unable to stop lathering you in kisses. “And let me in.”

Eagerly, you reach behind you to pull the fabric away, hissing when it grazes your clit. His cock sits between you once revealed, waiting for you to put him where he’d get on his knees and beg you to be. Sitting on your knees, Sylus kisses your lips tenderly as you start to sit down on his length, needing nothing but your bodies to guide him to your tight hole.

“Sylus…” you call his name once you’re filled with him. It’s a relic on your tongue, enchanting him how the two syllable spill out of you. You don’t wait for long, letting his strong hands explore your plush body as he guides you up and down his cock.

“I’ve killed men for you,” he declares, your breasts pressing against his hard chest only surging him on. You hold him closely, like he could snake out of your hold at any given moment.

“I’ve felt their blood mark my skin after I cut them down for the taunting words they’d spew in the arena.”

It was rare for anyone to not know that you and Sylus owned each other. It was even more rare for anyone to not know that should they utter your name with anything negative to follow it, Sylus would make them an example. His attentiveness to that has made it so he hasn’t had to make many.

The sound of slapping skin echos in the room, announcing the beauty of your lovemaking. “Their lives were already mine the moment they decided to go against me, but their fates were eternally sealed when your precious name was used in vain of their idiotic words. And you know what?”

“W—what?” You’re nearly drooling as his length moves within you, your wetness and his precum making a delicious mess along your gummy walls.

“I imagined me claiming you in their blood. Letting everyone watch as I show them how mad I can be for you. Would you let me, kitten?”

“Without hesitation…” you answer immediately, clenching tightly around him when you feel his dick pulse like it’s proud of you. Each dribble of his impending load leaking into your womb makes your mind grow infinitely more foggy with bliss.

“You like when I kill for you. I can feel how much harder you squeeze me.” He smirks cockily, but he’s right. He’s so fucking right and you don’t even care.

“I’m going to put my baby in your womb and the ring you deserve on your delicate finger.” His words hold so much promise.

“Please,” you beg. “Give it to m—me…Fuck, Sy…” Your thighs and legs burn, but you won’t stop. You refuse to—not when both of you are so close.

“My cum will take root,” he kisses down your shoulder. “And when you’re barefoot and pregnant with my seed, I’ll kill a thousand more in honor of the both of you.”

You slam your lips onto him, your tongue and his battling for control as you taste him. Naturally he wins, but you like to let him. You like being owned, protected, and loved by him. No matter how much you could hold your own, he has come into your life to show you that he can and will wield all of it so that you don’t have to.

His hands caress your back and you two fit together like perfect puzzle pieces, coming together at the same time. Your moans and mewls are pouring into his mouth just as his cum does inside of your pussy. He holds you down and close, doing everything in his power to make sure not a drop is wasted.

Your needy sounds curate the perfect symphony alongside his manly grunts and shuddering breath.

With the little bit of energy you have left, you grind against him to overstimulate your aching clit. When you can’t take anymore, you rest your chin on him and trace the scars along his arms in comfortable silence. You kiss each one your puffy mouth can reach, cleansing him with your affection.

“I’ll clean you before I have you again.” You giggle at how he says it so matter-of-factly.

“Good.” You pull back, sighing in contentment as he fondly kisses on your breasts once more. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mhm,” he continues to indulge. “You aren’t.”

A/N: Guys. What are we thinking? Me? Like I said—I LOVE THIS SO FREAKING MUCH!!! Like lowkey Camboy!Caleb level love. I started writing this last night before I fell asleep, and when I woke up this morning, it was like the little story never stopped. My fingers were just flyinggg (pause). LOLLLL!!

Creds to @/strangergraphics for the dividers!

[pillbuggs]

the gutsby collection

after @gutsby 's recent disappearance, i decided to compile all of her fics that i could find, originally for my own reading purposes because i, too, loved her fics. in light of all of the distraught posts and comments that have followed, i have decided to create and post this list for easy access (through compiling already existing findable reblogs, i haven't copied, downloaded, or reposted anything, i'm just putting everything in one place). discovering that you're suddenly unable to reach a favorite blog or never got to finish a well written fic sucks, so i hope y'all are able to find what you're looking for here. if you have any fics of hers reblogged that i've missed feel free to send them my way so i can add them here.

please note these might only be expandable/readable on desktop.

Waiting Game: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Extras More Extras Even More Extras Another Extra

chapters 1-8 can also be found on her ao3 which is still up!

Make It Stick: Prequel Part 1 Part 2 More Old!Joel Even More Another

🌸 Seeing Pink: "Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take."

📺 My Body, His Choice: "After a long day, Joel just needs some relief."

🌡️ Cabin Fever: "Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price."

💧 Brighter Times: "You've always been Joel's favorite. Always."

🚸 Love Tap: "Old habits die hard with your husband–touching you at inappropriate times is one of them."

📚 Wants and Needs: "Bills are high; your dad's boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him–for now."

🍼 Cry, Baby: "Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That's all."

🧺 Who's Your Daddy?: "You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out."

🍑 Just Peachy: "Joel's got a jealous streak and a bold idea."

🍺 Cowboy Killers: "On a mission to find–and fight–your best friend's lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair."

💵 Easy to Please: "Months pass, and you can't make rent–again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again."

🍍 If You Like Piña Coladas: "You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn't need one."

⚾️ Heavy Hitter: "A kick in the dick is a strange way to get a man's attention, but Coach Miller doesn't mind at all."

🎬 Too Close for Comfort: "You've been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, you're surfing the web on her dad's computer, and you find some...unusual things in his search history."

🇺🇸 Bigger in Texas: "Joel won't fit."

[i-like-loserz]

breedable

pairing: husband!san x reader

cw: explicit (18+), raging breeding-kink, unprotected sex (no condom, yes other contraceptives), needy/whiny!san, cuteness/sexiness aggression (^^look AT THOSE ADORABLE PICS), not dub-con because you're not actually forcing san to have a child - its just a fantasy and san respects the responsible day dreaming -- oh, and this is NOT beta-read.

wc: 1.6k

note: reverse breeding kink turns my mind into a slushie

masterlist

---

you have a special type of aggression when it comes to your husband.

while there's the usual cuteness aggression that makes you want to pinch his cheeks and tickle him until he's a giggling mess -- or the alternative "awe-infused-aggression," that makes you want to crawl all over him and worship his body (because he's built like a god) -- but this special aggression is a mix of the two.

you call it the "i-need-to-pass-on-his-genes-with-mine" or the breeding-aggression. you see his perfect, docile face -- the cute way his brows scrunch together whenever he's feeling too much, the way his chiseled abs clench as he holds himself back -- and it sets a fire in your horny soul.

typically, when one describes a breeding kink, it involves someone wanting to impregnate the other person in an act of love and possession. of course, the other person is wholeheartedly egging them on because they, too, want to carry their baby.

in this case, however, you work hard to fuck him to get you pregnant.

you may wonder, "is that not exactly the same thing as a normal breeding kink?," which will be responded with a, "no, because san is a smart boy and he doesn't want a child at the moment -- that is, not until you're both done achieving your dreams and settled into a family-friendly environment."

san is the sensible one in the relationship, while you play the role of a feral cat in heat. he always insists on a condom or some birth control while you immediately embrace your inner horny demon and cannot go a week without begging him to fill you up like a boston cream donut.

you often think he's just playing the role of the timid damsel, begging for mercy before getting thoroughly ravished because he always ends up giving in.

at first, this obsession started with an accidental and harmless mistake.

you forgot to get condoms.

neither of you realized it until you stuck your hand into the bedside drawer, only to come up empty handed.

san, the sweetheart he is, offered to run to the store to get some. but before he could leave, you pulled him back and convinced him that one time without it wouldn't hurt. you can always take the morning after pill. right?

and you thought that was that.

but once you saw the way his cute lashes fluttered as he entered you, eyes shiny from how lost he was in the pleasure -- maybe something clicked for you. maybe.

and maybe, when you felt how his body shivered, finally feeling your warmth without any barriers, and how his cock throbbed within you, you knew this would turn into an addiction.

a dangerous one.

then when he came inside, painting your walls in his warmth before pulling out to reveal his sloppy mess, your brain chemistry became altered in a way that would change the course of desires for the rest of your life.

and then, pushing his love back in so affectionately with his fingers, eyes glazed over in awe and hunger, you knew something changed within him as well -- as much as he'd deny it. he already started to get hard again from seeing how he dripped from your perfect cunt.

and so, after that fateful night, you tried to hold back, knowing that taking the morning-after pill often wasn't healthy (and, of course, you and san weren't ready for kids yet).

this didn't stop you from imagining how his cum would feel if there wasn't a barrier between you every time you fucked. or how pretty he'd be as your baby daddy, claiming you as his own as he gives you the perfect little family.

ok, and fine, maybe you 'forgot' to buy condoms a few more times after that. and maybe you made it a habit to make him cum a few times before fucking him so he'd be a little less attentive to the missing condoms just so you can feel him gushing out of you once more.

but that's neither here nor there.

...

ok, so, maybe it was here.

and there.

here, in the house -- on the couch during movie night, on the bed in the morning, on the kitchen counter when you saw him in that cute little frilly apron he borrowed from you, in the shower when he got back from the gym.

and there, outside the house -- messily in the car(s), in a tight dressing room, spontaneously in a lake, in a utility closet at his work (don't ask) -- so you had to find a sustainable solution quickly.

it finally got to the point where you made a doctor's appointment to get on birth control because you knew you wouldn't be able to hold yourself back anymore. the pull-out method wasn't going to work for long, and you knew san was struggling to deny your whiny begs to be filled.

now, you can say whatever you want and he'll be the obedient husband that he is.

---

"cum in me, sannie..." you whisper in his ear, rolling your hips and perfectly arching your back so you can press your hot body against his. "don't you want to make me a mommy?"

you admire how his cute face scrunches up as you speed up on top of him. he's flushed a pretty scarlet, from his chiseled chest to his cheeks -- a product of your merciless teasing and edging from earlier in the evening.

"b-baby," he meets your motions smoothly, eyes squeezed shut as his body struggles to bear with the sensations of your soft heat wrapped around him. "fuck, i-i'm..."

"...you're...?" you ask, mockingly. you lightly rake your nails against the back of his neck. the action never fails to make him shiver and buck against you. you let out a short gasp as the feeling of him suddenly fully thrusting into you nearly knocks the air out of you. he's hitting that sweet sweet spot inside of you now -- and it's making you almost as delirious as the man under you.

"p-please..."

"c'mon, hubby, i wanna feel it dripping out of me," you sigh dreamily. your lips barely brush over his neck as you speak, "then you can shove it back in and make sure it keeps, right~"

"yes, yes, anything--" he mumbles, head tilted back in ecstasy. his large hands grip around your waist, guiding your body like a glorified cock sleeve, up and down his cock just right. you swear you're starting to see white spots in your vision as he continues to use your body.

you love it when he's like this. tunnel visioned and desperate to reach that explosive feeling of stuffing you full of his cum. your eyes roll back as he continues to nudge against that soft spot inside of you.

"u-uh, san..." a familiar and addictive exhilarating heat blooms from your core and proliferates through every nerve in your body before you even realize it. you bite your lip to keep you from drooling as your body starts to shake in his hold.

the shockwave of pleasure makes you clench around him, making you impossibly tight around him as he continues to thrust into you.

"fuck," he groans at the feeling of you fluttering around him. he struggles to keep up his pace as he gives into his pleasure. you can feel his abs clench against you as his hips begin to stutter to meet yours. "take it, baby. i need you to t-take it all for me."

"give it to me. i need it."

he pulls your body down and gives one last punishing snap of his hips to press himself deep inside of you as he finishes with a broken moan.

as he cums inside of you, his body trembles, overwhelmed by his orgasm, the press of your perfect body against his, the heated air surrounding the two of you, and the panted breath leaving your precious lips.

his arms wrap around you, holding you close, as he nuzzles his face against your neck, pressing soft and sweet kisses to your sticky skin.

as you both start to calm down, san lifts his face from the crook of your neck to look up at you.

"baby?" he gently brushes some hair from your face so he can get a good look at your flushed expression, "i think i'm ready." he has such a cute little smile on his face as he stares up at you with adoring eyes.

"ready?" you ask, still trying to come down from the pleasure infused fog that has settled over your mind.

"i think we should start baby-making, for real."

a silence sits in between you as you stare at him in disbelief. you weren't expecting your sensible and responsible husband to suddenly propose such a life altering idea to you.

you're suddenly pulled out from your warm post-orgasm deliriousness.

"...san. are you sure?"

he looks down at your connected bodies, at your baby-less stomach and the sticky mess that's now dripping onto his thighs. and then you feel him twitch inside of you.

oh.

"i-- yeah."

not convincing.

(at least not in the state you're in)

"yeah, no." you shake your head, fully aware of his wandering thoughts. "let's talk about this when we're fully clothed, okay."

who knew you'd be promoted to be the sensible one?

[noisy-seelie]

Lipstick marks!

In which youre on his lap trying lipsticks, leads to making out with phainon.

Note: its 8:07 am, i never wrote a single line of fanfiction in my life. English is NOT a language im good with.Not proofread, written as my eyelids burn, begging for sleep

Word count: 1k

This contains: author never wrote ff be4, kissing, phainon x reader, suggestive ending cuz we freaky like dat, also suggestivd undertones. Because this was supposed to be smut but i got lazy. Horrifying Crappy kissing description cuz i lowkey forgot how ppl describe kissing

READ FOR PHAINON ART BY ME AT THE END👅

“this one's also not it…” you sigh as you toss aside the 6th—Or 7th?—Lipstick that you had applied tonight. Grabbing another one, a cherry colored lipstick. Applying it then turning your face to look at your pretty test rat-... Lover, phainon.

“remind me…” he stutters, his hands resting on your hips as you sit on his lap “what exactly are you doing again?” he huffs, feeling a little hot. His red face a dead giveaway.

“like i said!” you cup his face and bring him closer “im testing my lipsticks! The smudging, Transferability, and how the colors look on you” you say the last part with a cheeky tone, followed by a wink.

He huffs again as he stares into your eyes and you can't help but admire your work; his face is adorned with different colors of lipstick, his cheeks red as wine and eyebrows furrowed, a small pout on his untouched lips.

You had been teasing him this whole time. Kissing him everywhere but his lips, which you knew he loved to kiss. He was starting to get upset. The slightest pout on his face.

“can you at least kiss me while you torture me?” he dramatically sighs, his large hands going from resting on your hips to settling on the small of your back. Pulling you closer in his lap as he gives you the pleading eyes.

“What do you mean? I am kissing you. Look at all these lipstick marks!” you decide to play dumb, smiling with faux innocence. As if you didn't know what he exactly wanted.

Phainon stares at you for a few seconds before leaning in, in hopes to capture your lips in a kiss. But you were quick to put your index finger on his mouth.

“ah ah, not yet darling” you warn in a sweet voice.

Phainon’s hands twitched on the small of your back, slithering their way to squeeze on your waist. He knew he could easily overpower you, flip you over, and kiss you until his lips bled then lay atop of you to sulk. But he restrained himself.

You chuckle, pulling him closer to kiss his cheeks, nose, forehead, temples, and then the corner of his lips. Making his breath get caught in his throat out of excitement.

Phainon closed his eyes and sighed, his blood starting to rush in all places. He then opened his eyes to look at you, his nails digging in the flesh of your waist, he looks at your eyes with such need behind them, then his gaze fell on your lips. Your cherry lipstick so slightly smudged and he wished you'd let him clean it all off with his tongue.

You hum at him knowingly, and he rests his head on your shoulder with a groan, his arms wrapped around you. Securing you in a vice-like grip “you're driving me insane...” he murmurs against your shoulder, voice muffled yet the obvious need for you was not hideable.

“but you reallyyy love me” you tease, he raises his face to catch a glint of mischief that lit your narrowing eyes and he sighs, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows.

“id be a fool not to adore you, dear. You're the light of my life, I can't help but feel like a moth with how much I'm attracted to you; not in the physical sense, but I can't wander far from you. I always find my way back into your arms as if I'm bound to you by chains, pulling me towards you. which i don't mind”

You caress his cheek, you coo at him “my, such smooth talker you are, are you trying to sway me?” you pinch his cheek and to that he whines “but i must admit i am indeed swayed, id say you fairly earned yourself a ki-!”

Before you can finish your sentence, Phainon's mouth is already on yours. His hand tangles in your hair as he pulls you closer in a hungry kiss. He kisses you with increasing fervor. He nibbles on your lower lip, biting it and dragging his tongue over it like a soothing balm, eliciting a gasp from you to which you feel him grin at the sound. His other arm wraps around your torso, incaging you. Your chest pressed flush against his and you could feel his erratic heartbeat. His tongue slides in your mouth, tasting each corner and groaning in bliss like he had been granted the sweetest nectar. He drinks up your lips like a man dying of thirst and your lips were an oasis. Your arms wrap around his shoulder and your hands snake their way toward his neck, leaving trails of burning fire in their wake.

As to not suffocate, you push him away, he tends to lose himself in it when it comes to you.

Panting in his lap you look at him, flushed face, tousled hair framing his annoyingly handsome face and half-lidded eyes boring Into yours with an affectionate intensity as if he was trying to get your image burned into his irides. Lipstick marks still all over his face except his lips now are smudged Cherry color lipstick.

You stare at him and chuckle, proud of your finished piece of art and he raises an eyebrow.

“you look real cute marked up with my red lipstick, you know?” you tease, not expecting what came next.

Phainon lifted you off his lap and you yielped, he grins with his stupidly charming smile, you were thankful he was lifting you or your knees would have betrayed you when he flashed you his sweet smile.

He threw you over his shoulder like a rice bag, his hand resting on your thighs to balance you, and he headed upstairs. Humming a tune as you flailed around confused.

“you got your fill ’marking me’—as you say—with your red lipstick, so it's only fair I'd get my share too, don't you think? You'll look gorgeous with my own type of red marks”

You were in for a long night, thanks to your lipstick.

A/n: choking myself to death etf man its 8am i should be sleeping but im writting for this fuck ass man instead when im not even a writer، im so deeply in love with this man he made me draw AND write for him at the same DAMN TIME what a glutonous beast

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari sniffled, looking into her papa's eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks as she just sniffled and listened. She looked down for a moment, processing what the hero said and gave a nod while her eyes narrowed a bit in thought. "I... Think I get it." She muttered, voice still slightly trembling as she spoke. She looked back at the projection and sighed. The child slowly backed away from Hawks and went back to look at the journals again, one last time.

There she read a few more journals from her mother. A few from when she was pregnant with her siblings.

"Today is September 29th, I gave birth to my little boy Kitearo a few days ago. It's been exhausting but he's worth it. Lynx has been a huge help in taking care of our son. I looked into Kite's future and I saw he was going to have a lot of siblings. Not my first choice honestly. If you asked me five years ago I would have said two or three kids would be enough, not seven. But it feels right at the same time. While I saw his whole life unravel I couldn't help but feel helpless... But a part of me knows it can't be messed with, even though I want to save my son from an early grave. I'll have to wait until all my kids are born to get the full picture."

Kari frowned, figuring out pretty quick that her mother knew the whole time, or at least had an understanding.

"It's Febuary 23rd. Flo and Fino are a few days old now. I got a bit more of the picture since seeing Kitearo's future. They meet a similar fate. It hurts, but seeing them work hard to protect their youngest sister, a little girl with white hair, something isn't adding up. I know I can't stop it but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt a whole lot."

"It's been a rough few weeks, Shade has been a bit of a handful. Always curious but always quiet which is a bit unnerving. Sure she cries and makes noises but she's more quiet than not. The doctor says she has nothing wrong with her but I still worry. I was able to see into her future. Lynx has his work cut out for him that's for sure. So far I know all my kids and my husband die on the same day, doing the same thing. I can't say for sure where I am but I can make a few guesses. Again that little girl with white hair makes a big appearance. I'll name her Kari. Kari Kana Lee Himura, long name but it looks like it suits her. When she's born I'll hopefully get all the answers and try to write them down."

"Another pair of twins. I'm not super surprised, Lynx had twin younger brothers after all so I think that runs in the family. That and I saw them while looking into their siblings' futures. These two look mirrored, it's kinda cute. I've named them Boom and Beats cuz the symbols on their cheeks are cute music notes. They are the loudest that's for sure, it's funny. I've had so many kids and all of them are so different even though they're under the same roof and have me and Lynx as their parents. I know why they look so different and why their quirks are different, it's a side effect of my quirk after all. But their behaviors and personalities aren't tied to it, I don't think. It's so fascinating to watch them grow and develop... I know I probably only have a few more years to live. I've concluded I die in child birth when giving birth to Kari. I know I'll be leaving behind my family and my friends... But I noted that my nephew is the one responsible for the deaths of everyone, under the control of my sister given his pupils... Something isn't adding up but I'm guessing Kari develops my quirk. If that's the case then she needs to exist. It strengthens our quirk and hopefully she'll be able to help others like I did, in someway. Though that's her choice and I don't want to force it onto her. I'm glad dad talked me into writing that one entry about my quirk, I hope she can read it one day so she can meet me... Well, a snap shot of me. It won't be the same I know but it's better than nothing. I just hope she doesn't hate me or get mad. It's kind of a selfish reason but there's so much going on... I just hope she understands."

Kari sniffled, rubbing her eyes. "I... I don't hate you mom." She whispered after a few moments of silence, hugging herself. "I just wish I knew you." The child gulped and moved to look back at the journal about All of the Above and began taking notes. "But yea, I'm glad grampa talked you into writing about your quirk too... It's gonna help me a lot." She muttered then looked at Hawks. "You think we can go somewhere I can train? I... I wanna try doing this thing mom talks about. I'm not sure if I can get back into that weird mind space thing but... But if I can maybe you can meet my siblings, well a snap shot of them... This is kinda confusing." Kari puffed out her cheeks then went back to writing. "But we don't have to do it today if we can't."

Hawks didn’t speak at first. He just let Kari cry. He didn’t try to hush her or pull her away. He dropped down to one knee so she could lean into him easier, wrapping his arms around her small frame like he could shield her from every painful word she had just read. His wings even curled in slightly, a quiet gesture of shelter.

He held her gently as the sobs came out in waves—her pain wasn’t small, and it didn’t deserve to be treated like it was.

After a long moment, his voice finally came—soft, steady, low enough it didn’t try to overpower her crying but just… sat with it.

“I know, kiddo. I know it hurts. It’s not fair. None of this is. You didn’t get a choice in any of it.”

He tightened the hug slightly, one hand cradling the back of her head.

“But I need you to hear me when I say this next part, okay?” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his own golden ones steady and full of something more than just compassion—it was conviction. “She didn’t die because of you. That’s not how this works. She died for you. And that’s something only someone who loves their kid more than anything in the world would do.”

His thumbs gently wiped her tears.

“Your mom knew the risks. She was a top pro. She wasn’t someone who walked into things blind. She fought to bring you into this world anyway, Kari. That means she wanted you here. She made a choice—and that choice was you.”

[404lizzylizard]

Acts of Service

pairing: spencer reid x coworker!reader

tone/content : Flirty, slow-burn workplace tension with classic Reid awkward charm

Word Count: ~1,050

a/n: from the poll yall. I had to download the app on my phone and transfer it🤧. Don’t worrry I come in clutch (not proof read….🧍‍♀️)

It started with the Garcia file.

You distinctly remember it being halfway done — notes scattered, references highlighted, a sticky note with a reminder to cross-check timestamps on page five. But when you opened it the next morning, it was pristine. Fully annotated. Color-coded margins. Footnotes. With APA citations.

At first, you chalked it up to a moment of overachieving late-night productivity. Maybe you'd done it in a fugue state. Maybe your brain was broken. Or maybe Emily had gotten bored and overly helpful after one too many Red Bulls. Wouldn’t be the first time.

But then it happened again.

And again.

By the fourth mystery-completed file, you were suspicious.

You glanced across the bullpen, eyes narrowing. Emily was sipping coffee innocently. Morgan was deep in conversation with Hotch. Garcia was mid-rant about someone in Cyber Crimes who dared call her a “data analyst.” Everyone looked appropriately overwhelmed.

Except Spencer.

Dr. Reid sat at his desk, tapping his pen against his lip while reading over a document — your document. The unmistakable teal header from your case notes peeked out beneath his hand. And was that… your handwriting?

You stood slowly, squinting. Then crossed the bullpen with all the subtlety of a jungle cat.

“Hey, Spencer.”

He startled like he’d been caught breaking into a safe. “Hi! Hello. Hey. Good morning.” His voice did that pitchy nervous thing, the one that meant his brain had already cycled through nine potential exit strategies and decided none of them would work.

You leaned on his desk.

“That’s my case summary.”

He blinked. “Oh. Right. I—uh—I was just reading it.”

“Reading it. Or rewriting it?”

Spencer flushed.

You crossed your arms, trying not to grin. “Reid. Have you been… finishing my files?”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Define ‘finishing.’”

“Rewriting case synopses. Cleaning up victimology timelines. Adding footnotes in Latin.”

“…okay, yes. But it’s not like— I didn’t mean to! Not at first.” He rushed to explain, words tumbling. “It started because I saw your file on the coffee table and I noticed the timeline had a two-hour discrepancy between when the suspect left the gas station and when the body was found, and I thought, well, that’s probably important, so I checked the timestamps, and then—then I realized it needed clarification, and by the time I looked up, it was…done.”

You blinked.

“And then it kept happening?”

Spencer nodded, sheepish. “They’re just… fun to work on. Yours are fun.”

You tilted your head. “You think my case files are fun?”

He smiled, that shy, endearing half-smile you hated how much you liked. “They’re very organized. And you leave sarcastic comments in the margins sometimes. It’s like… an annotated tour of your brain.”

That one caught you off guard. A little flutter somewhere deep in your chest.

“I thought maybe you were annoyed,” you admitted, quieter now. “I figured you were fixing my mistakes.”

Spencer looked horrified. “No! Not at all. You don’t make mistakes. I mean- statistically, everyone makes mistakes, but yours are minor and usually spelling-related and once you spelled ‘unsurvivable’ with two R’s but I thought it was kind of charming-”

You laughed, covering your face. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

He cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. “Sorry. I’ll stop. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

You glance down at the neat stack of color-coded papers on his desk, your name typed at the top, your scribbles still faintly visible beneath his tidier notes. Something warm unfurls in your chest. You shake your head.

“You don’t have to stop.”

Spencer blinks. “Really?”

You shrug, a little self-conscious now. “If you like doing it, and I still get the credit, I mean… who am I to take away your nerdy acts of service?”

His ears go pink. “Acts of service?”

You smile, grabbing your folder back from his desk, fingers brushing his as you do. “Spencer, this is the workplace equivalent of braiding my hair and packing me lunch. Admit it.”

He looks momentarily dazed. “Do you… want me to pack you lunch?”

You laugh, walking backward toward your desk. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Romeo.”

Spencer watches you retreat, stunned and very clearly flustered. When you sit, you peek up just in time to catch him smiling stupidly at his paperwork.

It happens again the next day. And the next.

Eventually, the team stops asking why your files are always perfect.

But you catch the way Hotch glances between the two of you. The way JJ smirks when Spencer brings you coffee. The way Garcia fake-swoons every time he quietly slips a revised summary onto your desk like some criminal-profiling fairy godmother.

You don’t mind.

Because now, every time you open one of those perfectly polished files, you find a new note — sometimes just a margin doodle, sometimes a quote, once an actual equation that solved a joke you’d made in passing two weeks prior.

Eventually, one of the footnotes reads:

P.S. If you ever want dinner instead of coffee, I’m available.

—S.R.

You don’t annotate the note.

You just write your number on a sticky note and place it under his favorite pen.

[transmascaraa]

multiple characters headcanons!

summer vacation time!!

characters: kinich, alhaitham, lyney, wanderer x gn!reader

author's note: hello again🫣

Kinich ☆

-90% he's gonna take you to the people of the springs and you can't change my mind

-thanks to knowing mualani she'll probably give you two her house for some time

-while getting ready for the whole vacation is probably gonna be a mess

-i mean ajaw is there soooooo

-he's gonna comment on EVERYTHING and i mean ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING

-"EW WHY ARE YOU BRINGING THAT MANY UNDERWEAR WITH YOU?? THAT'S TOO MUCH FOR JUST 7 DAYS!"

-it's best to ignore him tho just to not cause more unnecessary arguments

-and when you're finally there, ajaw MIGHT but JUST MAYBE be a tiny bit less annoying because he's enjoying the vacation himself

-so that's definitely gonna give you more time to spend with kinichhhh

-he cares sm about you and he WILL buy you the most expensive sunscreen because he doesn't want you to end up BURNED

------------------------------------------------------

Alhaitham ✯

-he's gonna take you somewhere where HE enjoys being so if you end up not liking it he'll just say

-"oh. okay. next time you can choose." and that's all (he will bring you wherever you want next time frfr)

-the preparation is gonna take a while

-he's gonna pack his things perfectly, necessary and unnecessary things telling you to pack your things on your own

-if you're not done by the time he's done, he'll help you because he's not so rude

-half of the things he packed up are books and when you questioned him about it he just said it was "necessary because he doesn't want his brain to forget to study"

-when you get there, half the time he's gonna be reading his books OR yapping to you about the books he reads

-just listen to him it's not that hard🙏

-of course he'll already have 5 different types of sunscreen because he needs them for himself depending on how he's feeling, but you're the only person he'll share them with

------------------------------------------------------

Lyney ♡

-you're most likely going on a vacation with his siblings and arlecchino father

-the preparation is gonna be PERFECT trust me

-he's gonna give you so many suggestions on what to wear

-at one point he'll be only packing up your things forgetting that he has his own

-"do you like this shirt more or this one? or do you want to bring both? let me know!" ahh bf (we love him)

-"lyney i don't need any more clothes-" and he'll cut you off by throwing some random shirt on you. neither of you know is it your shirt or his own, but you're gonna pack it with yourself now

-once you get there he's gonna try and find as much private time for the two of you as possible

-kissing your hand anywhere and everywhere, wherever and whenever is a MUST

-he will INSIST on putting your sunscreen on for you to "make it easier for you"

-we know damn well he just wants to feel your skin against his fingers and to kiss your back

------------------------------------------------------

Wanderer ⑅

-you were supposed to goon a vacation with nahida but he turned her down saying it would be too expensive(he wanted alone time with you)

-nahida knew that damn well but wtv she wanted you guys to have fun

-the packing up was a huge mess

-he commented one everything you packed, and you only commented on his things in return so it was like a back-and-forth argument

-"why do you need so many things? and sunscreen?? pfft- the sun isn't gonna kill you."

-"i'm gonna BURN and that's not something ENJOYABLE. but how would you know anyway- you're a porcelain puppet."

-"that doesn't mean shit- your skin is just weak."

-etc etc but at some point you're finally both done

-finally getting there, he'll stay stuff like "this is worse than i thought" and stuff but he's only saying it to bring out a reaction from you

-beg him to put sunscreen on you and although he'll resist and call you stupid for not doing it yourself. once he's putting it on you he's dying inside(in a good way)

------------------------------------------------------

feels good to write after a while

| @mariaace <3

[hahaifolded]

hello!!!!!

I don’t know if this is a stupid or unnecessary ask but how would Kyle and the team react to Soap and Reader’s break up? Would they notice a difference since Soap wouldn’t be so happy and loud anymore? Maybe he would just whine and complain the whole time, and it happened too much that one of them pushed him to confess what happened (I would believe that to be Kyle since we called him and not the captain or such). I might be going off topic and beginning to rant right here, I am so sorry!!!! 🫶🏽

Enjoy this rough, continuation of Cellophane (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x POC!GN Reader

Warnings: MDNI, ANGST (racism), comparatively not as bad as the first part, Johnny still sucks however, mid-writing, abrupt ending Author's Note: You know what, I wasn't going to do a part two but I read this and boom... thoughts! Thank you for the ask, @shitaaba

Has the sun ever felt better on his skin? Gaz doesn’t think so.

What a perfect day! No early meetings or training. Sun is shining, the town isn’t too busy, and Kyle finally has time to hit that coffee shop you and Johnny showed him all those months ago. 

You and Johnny… what a beautiful couple. Well mostly you but Kyle will keep that to himself as he doesn’t need Johnny on his back for “fucking you with his eyes” again. His teammate sure is a lucky man, especially since Kyle isn’t a homewrecker, because if Gaz had his way, you’d be right next to h— 

“Ah!” Kyle quickly grabs at the poor soul that he smacked into. 

“Shit, so sorry. Are you ok… oh, it’s you!” he first apologizes then gleams. What a strange coincidence. Is this manifestation? 

You look up and immediately pull away from his grasp. Your eyes are wide as they wander for a quick getaway. “Don’t even worry about it. If you’ll excuse me,” you rush out as you side-step Kyle. 

Kyle blocks you and throws you a warm smile as an attempt to ease your embarrasment. “Woah, woah, why the rush? It’s been awhile. What, Johnny has you caged up?” Gaz laughs at his own joke. He thought that would for sure make you laugh. It doesn’t.

Your face falls, and for the first time ever, Kyle sees you shrink. Your energy completely dissipates as discomfort overtakes you. 

“Hey, everything okay?” Kyle softens his voice and reaches out, laying a gentle hand on your upper arm in an attempt to lift you up. You slowly step away from it which only worries Kyle more. “What happened? Did Johnny do something?” 

“John and I broke up.” 

-- -- --

“Up for drinks tonight boys? My treat,” announces Price at the end of the team meeting.

“Sure.”

“As long as you pay, I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Can’t.”

“Again Johnny? This is the fifth time you’ve bailed on us,” Ghost remarks. 

Soap lets out a deep laugh. “You’re just bitter that I have something sweeter waiting for me at home.” Ghost rolls his eyes while Price laughs. 

“Wanker.” 

Soap, Ghost, and Price all turn towards Kyle. Did he just call Soap a wanker? Why?

“Just a wee joke. Meant no harm,” Soap yields. Gaz just rolls his eyes and continues packing his things. 

Instead of engaging with Gaz, Johnny decides to concede and continue packing. Clearly something is bothering his fellow sergeant but Soap knows it's better to wait until Kyle opens up. And if he’s honest to himself, he really doesn’t have the capacity right now for other people’s problems.  He has enough of his own. 

“Before I forget, ma has been nagging me to bring you guys over for dinner again. Worried that we’re starving or something. Think next week works for all of ya?” 

“Sure.”

“Should I bring anything?”

“Your mom okay with me coming?”

Ghost and Price do a double take as Kyle’s question catches them off guard. Kyle pays them no attention as he stares down Soap who’s smile drops. 

However, as fast as it dropped, it immediately reappeared. “What kind of question is that? Course she knows,” the Scotsman smiles. 

Kyle chuckles in disbelief. “Really? So she knows about me but not your bird?” 

“What?” Soap’s entire demeanor changes. His confident, go-lucky self crumbles, now replaced with shame and discomfort. “What are you on about?”

“Mate, you can’t be serious?” Kyle barks. He takes a step forward towards his counterpart but is stopped by a confused, but attentive captain. Price steps in and asks for an explanation. 

Kyle stares Soap down and bites, “you want to tell them or should I?”  All color drains from Soap's face

“That’s enough you two,” Ghost jumps in, unable to take this anymore. “Whatever problems Johnny is having with his bird is between him and—“

“They broke up two months ago!” Kyle finally exclaims. Ghost’s eyes widened. Price’s jaw drops. That made no sense as just last week, Johnny went on and on about the perfect getaway you two went on. Ghost and Price look to Johnny for answers, but with the way Johnny is standing, head down, shoulders slumped, their questions are answered. 

“Johnny, what happened?” Price tries to comfort the Scotsman. He saw how happy you made the sergeant happy. He even had a heart-to-heart with Johnny when he expressed his desire to marry you. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I’ll tell you why.” And with that, Kyle goes off. He tells the team how Johnny, despite claiming to love you more than life itself, refused to fight for you. ”I bet you’re just like your parents,” spits Kyle. 

“You don’t get it,” counters Johnny. His face twists in despair. 

“What’s not to get? Your parents are fucking racist and you refuse to do anything about it.” Kyle couldn’t believe it. Johnny is his friend, his comrade, his brother in arms; despite everything they’ve gone through, Kyle thought he could trust the Scotsman. And worst of all, he wasn’t the one who got hurt, it was you, sweet, beautiful you got hurt. “You’re pathetic. You never fucking deserved them!” 

“That’s enough,” Price puts his foot down. His face stern. He gestures to Soap and sends him to his office. Soap drops his head and nods in defeat. As Johnny walks away, Price lets out a deep breath and asks Ghost to watch Kyle before heading off himself.

The lieutenant and sergeant stand in silence as Kyle is way too angry to speak and Ghost is just uncomfortable by the entire situation. Did Johnny really lose you because of his parents? Ghost couldn’t believe it. He’s seen firsthand how Johnny furiously defended you during late nights out at the bar when other soldiers got a little too crude with the way they spoke about you. Ghost personally has had to rip the sergeant off one too many times from rude allies. What made Ghost even more uncomfortable was the amount of time he’s spent with Johnny’s family and never once got the feeling that his parents were racist. They’ve always been kind to the Lietenant. He assumed it was because of his rank or even his own past, never for… 

“Kyle?” Kyle cocks his head towards Ghost, eyes still buring with rage. “Has his parents ever…”

“No,” Kyle admits. He exhales deeply, his shoulders easing a bit. “I mean, there's been some weird comments here and there but I just assumed it was cause they’re old, never…” Kyle trails off, clearly affected by everything. 

Ghost just nods. He stays quiet for a bit until another question pops in his head. “Are they okay?” 

Kyle shrugs his shoulders. “They’re alright. Still hurt but they’ll survive” 

Ghost hums. He has a million other questions but decides to stay quiet. As much as he wants to know how Kyle found out or what (but really who) you’re doing these days, Ghost sees that Kyle is just exhausted. So with that, the two men finish packing in silence. With their bags in hand, they both leave the conference room, walking side by side in the hallway. 

Kyle pulls out his phone and lets out a small chuckle. Ghost can’t help but give Gaz a weird look. What’s so funny? 

“You know something, L.T., I don’t even feel bad anymore.” Ghost tilts his head as Kyle shows him something on his phone.

You: Saturday works for me! 

Word Count: 1246

Thanks for reading! - Fold's Page Guide + Masterlist

[inexplicifics]

I’m also a writer, of both fanfics and works I hope to publish someday, and I was wondering if I could ask your advice. I have a number of larger projects that I want to undertake, but thinking about how long it’s going to take to finish them makes me anxious and then I won’t even start. You’re an incredible writer and you have so many finished works; how do you do it? What would you recommend for someone who feels incredibly daunted by the lengthy and disheartening process that is writing a novel or series?

Also thank you for your Accidental Warlord series; it brings me inexpressible joy every time I read it

Oooh okay this is a complicated one. Let's see.

First off, and this is hard: don't compare your output to other authors. I have what my friends affectionately refer to as Wordy Bitch Disease. I write a lot, I write fast, and I write clean enough copy that Rose isn't doing copyedits, she's doing plot and characterization fixes. I start a new WIP...pretty near daily some weeks, and they do not all get done. My WIPs list is frankly fucking terrifying. But it's important to note that I have been writing pretty consistently for twenty years at least, and I was not as fast, coherent, or skilled when I started. For that matter, when I'm tired or stressed or just feeling blah, sometimes the words don't come, and it's important not to beat yourself up about it when that happens.

Second bit of advice: start smaller. I really, really like flash fic challenges and themed prompt lists and tumblr ask memes, because they make me limit my story to what can be told in a few thousand words. That lets me improve my craft without getting bogged down in enormous plotlines. (Yes, sometimes the story still grows a plot. But it's less frequent.)

Third bit of advice: take little bites, and accept that it's going to take a long time and possibly several drafts. When I started MBTT, I genuinely thought it would be 50K. (I am bad at estimating finished lengths of stories.) But I still took it one chapter at a time, and tried to have each chapter be a coherent whole, a chunk of story that needed to be told. When I'm working on the AWAU, if I think about the whole overarching storyline too much, I get overwhelmed and have to go stick my head under a proverbial rock for a while. But one story is doable, most of the time. I've had to restart drafts for some stories two, three, four times to get the voice and style and plot to cooperate. Be willing to say, That's not working, and try something else, even if you're really fond of what you've written so far.

Fourth bit of advice: learn what style of planning works for you. Some people like to outline in great detail. Some people like a sketchy outline. Some people, like me, can't outline - it kills the story for me. The WIP I started this morning has a notes section for important characterization details and the single plot point "Bandits?" Anything more than that, and I won't write it, because in some sense I've already written it so why bother doing it again?

Fifth and final bit of advice, because this is getting long: if you can find a cheer-reader, cherish them. Having someone in the doc leaving comments or emoticons helps immensely with knowing how my readers will react and with keeping my own enthusiasm for a story stoked high, which vastly increases the likelihood of it getting finished.

Good luck! Be brave! Thank you for the compliments!

I hope to read your stories someday!

[kaysfanficcorner]

The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 3

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader

Summary: Things get more complicated.

Author's Note: Well here we are. I had so much fun writing this chapter and I am incredibly proud of it. These two have captured my heart and I cannot wait to see this little story through to the end. Harry and his camgirl have been the highlight of my summer so far. Thank you for being along for the ride, and please enjoy one of the most explicit things I've written to date.

New note, 6/25: Also, I went back and made one small edit to part 2. In it, Harry said it was June. For the outline I have planned I needed to move things up two months to August, so now I just made Harry make a vague reference to it being summer. You’ll understand when part 4 comes out!

Warnings: Alcohol consumption; Mentions of THC consumption; Cursing; Flirting; Lying, which I assure you hurts to write just as much as it hurts to read; Angst; Fluff; SMUT in the form of unprotected sex, oral, cum eating, anal; A lot of feelings; Reader is thic; Reader is sort of goth; Reader has pierced nipples; Reader is a sex worker; I gave Harry an appendix scar, don't ask me why

18+, Minors DNI

Ao3

*****

Harry can’t quite believe himself, feeling legitimately nervous as he waits for you near the entrance, but still inside the events venue. Women don’t tend to make him nervous, not at this stage of his life at least. Somehow, someway, you make him incredibly nervous. Perhaps it’s because you’re nothing like anyone he’s ever felt attracted to before. With you everything feels strangely different. So different that he let himself go during the concert, not giving a single damn if anyone who he may know was paying any attention to him or not. But now, after coming down from his multiple highs, Harry’s sure he’d overdone it and he’s sure people will be talking come Monday morning. The question is, though, should he really care all that much?

Shortly after you both agreed to get food together, you declared that you needed to use the restroom and grab your things from the employee area in the back. You explained how you and Vanessa were able to get into the event in the first place with the help of that guy, Charles was it? The venue’s owner, evidently. Apparently Vanessa is usually at these events as an employee, which is in all honesty not much of a surprise. It all makes sense. As he stands there thinking about it, the puzzle pieces of how his evening ended up going in this direction have started clicking together. You’re not from this walk of life and you certainly would have never attended this event without the promise of the musical guest. Harry was only able to meet you due to some wild stroke of fate. Or luck. He’s not sure which. 

Harry himself doesn’t care, but your lack of status makes things even more scandalous when he really thinks about it. He knows that his brow must be riddled with worry as you’re approaching him once again, looking much more casual than you had when you walked away. When he really sees you, though, the worry in him fades away. 

 You’ve lost about three inches to the tasteful black Jimmy Choos you’d been wearing, which you’ve now replaced with short ankle-high black socks and a pair of black and white checkered Vans. The classic slip ons, a shoe Harry hasn’t noticed anyone wearing in a long while. He supposes that they are still popular if you’re wearing them, but most of the people he interacts with on a regular basis would not go for skateboarding shoes even in the most dire of circumstances. It’s an intriguing choice, much like the rest of you.

Your hair is back to being drawn up from your neck and shoulders, though the look is much messier than the bun Harry had ruined in the heat of the moment. You’ve got a black sweater slung over your forearm, and the straps of the heels are looped through your index and middle fingers on that same hand. Your free hand comes to rest on his arm as you move in beside him. Somehow being shorter makes you even more adorable to Harry, and he’s once again thanking himself for taking the plunge to enhance his own appearance. Your height difference is exactly what he imagined for himself when the surgery was possibly just a disastrous idea. At his true height the two of you would be nearly eye to eye.

“There you are,” you say with a little grin. “I bid farewell to the lovers back there so I’m good to go when you are. Van says you better not murder me or kidnap me, or she’s gonna come after you. I told her I’d be fine with the latter and she better not try to save me and ruin our good time.”

Harry nearly chokes at the suggestion, the very notion of it shocking, but your giggle at his reaction is enough to calm him. “You really aren’t like other girls,” he says, at a loss for more to say than that. 

“The highest compliment a girl can receive,” you agree, leaning into him slightly.

Harry looks around the room, noticing a few eyes on them, and he’s suddenly wildly ready to leave. His driver should be pulling up any minute, but he hasn’t heard the ding of a text or felt the vibration of a notification in his pocket yet. His eyes narrow a little as he regards you seriously.

“Listen, I want you to know that I don’t normally behave like that when I’ve only just met someone. I don’t know if I’ve ever behaved like that, actually. I apologize if I came on too strong on dancing with you, or singing those crass lyrics.” Harry says this with a self conscious little pit in his stomach. 

A moment ago he felt very confident that dancing with you in such an erotic way had been the right call, but suddenly he’s not so sure. It’s not enough to throw him off his game completely, but thinking back on how sultry the last hour and a half of his life has been, in a very public place, a wave of true embarrassment surges through him. People like Harry aren’t supposed to act like that, at a charity event no less. He finishes the water in another large gulp, mostly as a way to avoid looking at you directly while you respond. He could really use the next liquid he consumes to have an alcohol content. 

The look you send him is clearly one of gratitude. “Harry, you were great. You are great. I appreciate your concern for me, but I truly had the time of my life with you out there. I wouldn’t be standing here right now if you made me uncomfortable. No apology needed.”

What a relief washes over him. “As long as you felt safe and respected,” Harry adds, nodding once.

You’re nodding in return, smiling unfalteringly. “I felt very safe and very respected. A little worshiped, even. Singing those lyrics was absolutely the right call and at your handsiest you were still very respectful. Thank you for being a gentleman. That’s rarer than you may think these days.”

“Mhm, I’m aware that men in general suck,” he agrees, looking around the room nervously again. 

Now that his integrity has been cleared up with you, he’s not so sure it will be for anyone else who was paying attention to him tonight. As Harry glances around, he catches the gaze of a haughty looking blonde woman whom he knows he went out with once, but can’t possibly recall the name of. Cynthia? Cheryl? Something with a C? Harry remembers thinking it was a fitting letter because she’d certainly been a bit of a cunt, the way she’d spoken down to their waitress being enough evidence of that. Someone like her is the antithesis of what Harry wants in a life long partner. 

The unpleasant woman notices Harry looking and frowns deeply at him, clearly still scorned by his rejection. Then she sees you, how closely you’re pressed to him, and she gives you a once over which suggests exactly what she thinks of you. Her eyes land on your worn pair of streetwear shoes for a long moment, and her upper lip curls in an ugly sneer. 

“Some women suck too, though,” he says with distaste, frowning a little. “Wait, that sounds sexist. What I mean to say is: I think most people suck.”

“Sucking as a person encompasses all genders,” you agree.

Your gaze follows his to the woman across the room, and Harry watches your brow raise, but then to his great surprise you blow the woman a kiss and lean into Harry even more as you lift up on your tiptoes to place a chaste peck to his neatly trimmed jaw. He’s certain it was one of his gray patches, and his chest swells a little. Normally he’d be horrified that you just did that, but seeing the other woman huff and walk off strikes a chord within him and that warmth he felt spreading through him earlier on in the evening comes back. 

What a curious feeling. 

Once you’ve clearly had your fun you ignore the woman completely, looking back at Harry with a sugary sweet smile on your lips as you rub your bare shoulder into his upper arm. “I may have some money compared to most but I’m not one of these stuffy broads. Maybe I’m wrong with this read, but I don’t think you would be hanging out with me if I was.”

“You’re not wrong,” Harry breathes, pleased to know that you’re actually seeing him. That feels new for some reason. “I have a feeling that people like her are going to talk, because we definitely gave them something to talk about…” he trails off, a smile creeping onto his lips as he remembers how your body fit against his so well. 

“See, that’s the spirit! We had fun, so fuck those other people. And your reputation is safe with me. I’m not going to run off and tell the ‘who’s who’ that Harry Castillo is an incredibly sexy dancer. Or that his hands were all over me and it was the most amazing I've felt in another’s company since I can’t remember when. Or that his lips are addictive. I won’t even say that he’s quite handsome. Very bite-able.” 

As you say that last bit, you’re leaning over to gently nibble at his shoulder through the white dress shirt. Harry could care less that you probably just stained it red with rouge. He’s never met a girl who wants to openly gnaw on him before, and his stomach flutters in response to it. 

Harry’s shaking his head, wanting to reassure you that he wasn’t thinking about you like that. “It’s not you I’m worried about when it comes to my reputation, it’s the rest of these sharks. I’m sure at least one of them caught a whiff of blood in the water.”

You grin widely, laughing. “Yeah, well, my favorite character in Jaws is Captain Quint, so let the bastards try and take a chomp at you while I’m around.”

His left brow raises curiously. “Doesn’t the captain get eaten by the shark at the end of that movie?”

“That’s neither here nor there, but if it would make you feel better I’ll change my favorite to Sheriff Brody,” you giggle, then you change the subject. “Is our ride here yet?”

At that moment, Harry feels a vibration against his right thigh a barely audible ding goes off. “Actually, I think it is.”

*****

Harry links arms with you as the two of you descend the stairs leading down to the sidewalk, and the feeling of guilt slowly eating away at your gut gets a little worse. You really like this guy, and starting things out with a lie feels like it’s suddenly a huge mistake. But what if you come clean and he ends the night before you’re ready for it to end? Isn’t it best to see the rest of this night through and then see where things go with him after that? There’s still a good chance that he’ll disappear from your life after tonight and then you will have embarrassed yourself for no reason. And, again, it’s not that you’re embarrassed about your profession, but you’re starting to feel embarrassed for being a liar and a coward. That stings a lot, especially when the spark you’re experiencing with Harry feels like it's not nothing. 

Apparently you got so lost feeling guilty and anxious just now, that you completely missed the fact that you and Harry have made it down to the crowded curb. As well as the fact that your favorite musician is no less than twenty feet away as he gets ready to climb into his limo, surely off to some club or afterparty. You also hadn’t realized that you've been staring directly at the handsome celebrity, or that you’re wearing a displeased look on your face, until Harry looks at you with an expression of worry on his own.

What Harry doesn’t realize is that you’re deeply displeased with yourself at this moment, but he must think it has something to do with him. He seems a little self conscious as he looks over at the famous man climbing into the white stretch, frowning as his chocolate eyes meet yours once more. “You know, I can probably find out what party he’s going to.”

Your eyes widen, shocked that he thinks you’re worried about that . “I didn’t even notice him, Harry. I was distracted by something else.” 

“What is it? You seem upset all of the sudden.”

This is it. Your chance to tell the truth. Do it, do it, do i-

“The heels killed my feet,” you lie, adding a wince for effect, though your feet really do ache.

  Apparently lying is just your fucking thing now, you think, shame filling you for a moment. Coward.

“ Oh ,” he looks utterly relieved, and you can’t help but wonder how he can be so confident at one moment and almost vulnerable at the next. It makes you wonder if he’s been a little deprived of certain things emotionally in his life, thinking that makes two of you if it’s an accurate read. 

Just then a sleek black car pulls up behind the leaving limo, and Harry’s opening the door to the back seat for you. “Let’s keep those feet off the ground, then”

“Are you planning to sweep me off of them, Harry?” You flirt effortlessly, feeling a sense of calm wash over you again when he grins handsomely in response, fingers slipping in between yours. That’s it, just get your groove back.

“If you’ll let me,” Harry says, the air of if completely honest. 

As he guides you down into the leather seat, your hands remain joined. He leans down to kiss your knuckles once before letting your hand fall down into your lap. Then the door shuts, and a moment later the door on the other side opens. You’re grinning at him as he slides in beside you. Literally right beside you, not just in the other seat. He’s even using that weird middle seatbelt that no one likes, body pressed closely to yours as you buckle yourself in too. 

*****

Soon the two of you are instead seated across from one another in a twenty-four seven diner splitting a whole cheesesteak and a couple of cheap beers. Both of you remark that neither of you really eats food like this anymore, and that you’ll both regret it when you feel like shit the next day. But damn does it taste amazing. It also helps that you both took some generous hits on the dab pen again before entering the restaurant, making the greasy subs all the more alluring. 

You’re grinning at him between bites and sips, practically moaning. “I’m so glad that they put cheese wiz on this the real Philly way. Fuck, I’m in heaven.”

He nods in agreement, chewing a hefty chomp of his own. “This is very delicious, which means it could definitely kill me. Are you from the Philadelphia area, then?”

“No, the Baltimore area. A dinky town outside of the city. Close enough to Philly, though. I still know a good cheesesteak when I taste one. I just know a good crabcake better.”

“I knew your accent was from one of the two. Philly didn’t feel right though.” 

You smirk, “It’s the weird ‘o’ thing we do, isn’t it? I’ve never been able to shake that.”

Harry shrugs into another bite of his sandwich. “I think it’s cute.”

Downing the rest of your beer, you’re blushing as you tell him, “Well I like your voice a lot. It’s handsome and smooth, like rich caramel in my ears.”

Harry snorts into his own beer, shaking his head with a cartoonish grimace. “Caramel in your ears doesn’t sound pleasant. Come on, Miss author . Is that the sexiest thing you could come up with?” 

“It sounded like a good phrase in my head,” you’re forcing yourself to laugh, ignoring the sick jolt of anxiety he just caused. There are a few bites of cheesesteak left on your plate, but your appetite is long gone.

Harry seems to notice how fake it sounds, frowning. “You know what? I’m going to quit teasing you about that. We don’t have to talk about your writing unless you bring it up. That was rude of me. Shit . I’m not doing a very good job of earning that trust we talked about, am I?”

Deflect, deflect, deflect. Be fucking cool about it. “It’s okay. I’m not that upset. I’ll admit that wasn’t one of my better turns of phrase, but I can’t help it that amber is the color of your energy, Harry.” Joking as an attempt to re-lighten the mood, you’re grinning when he makes a scrunched face at the reference. But then that lovely face of his morphs into a relieved smile, and your anxiety settles.

“You’re too funny,” he chuckles. “I like your sense of humor. It’s refreshing.”

With a fake scoff, you’re feigning surprise. “You mean to tell me that blondie from the venue back there wasn’t a funny person? I never would have guessed.”

“Shocking, I know,” he agrees, grin handsome as ever. 

A wave of emotion rolls over you when you take a moment to really look at his face, at how beautiful he is and how lucky you feel to be here with him in this moment. The need to speak from the heart strikes you, and you let yourself go a little. “I’m having a really good time with you tonight, Harry. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think meeting you is the thing I’ll cherish more than the actual concert.”

“I feel similarly,” Harry says, reaching a hand across the table for you. You slip yours into his easily, and he gives a gentle squeeze. “Do you want me to take you home to your place after this?” Harry asks, eyes darkening a little as he waits for your answer. He looks both nervous and hopeful.

You reply honestly, “If I say no, that I’d like to go home with you instead, will you think I’m an easy slut? I don’t make a habit of going home with strange men, usually.”

Harry shakes his head fervently, laughing. “If anything I’m worried that you think I’m an easy slut. I typically go on a couple of dates before I bring someone home. I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

“Me neither. I can’t explain it, but this feels different for me. You feel different. You keep saying I’m not like most girls, but you’re not like most guys. Do things feel different for you tonight, Harry?”

He nods, “They do. You’re more than welcome to come home with me, if it’s truly what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” you say honestly, scared of what telling the truth in this regard means considering how much you’ve lied about everything else. Every time you’ve had the opportunity to come clean before it’s too late, fear has halted your mouth. Nothing’s stopping your wicked, traitorous tongue this time around, though.

“I like you a lot, Harry.” Confessing this with real emotion behind your words, you’re willingly making this more complicated. It’s as if you’re suddenly uncaring of the consequences you may eventually face for it, stepping blindly into a situation that simply can’t end well because you have to see where it goes regardless. You desperately need Harry Castillo to know exactly what he does to you, and for you to understand what you do to him. You need it more than you need to breathe. 

“I like you too,” Harry agrees, smiling at you genuinely as he wipes his hands and discards with his napkin on the empty plate. He downs the rest of his beer, eyes darkening as the slice of lime slides down the neck of the bottle with the final drops of golden liquid. The way he looks at you feels almost predatory for a moment, like he’s deciding when to pounce. 

“Now, tell me,” he says your name, letting it melt ever so slowly on his stupidly alluring tongue, “if this were one of your stories, what would happen next when we finally establish that the two main characters like each other?"

*****

Harry’s tongue is buried so deeply in your cunt that the end of his broad nose is simultaneously and unceremoniously kneading into the sensitive, swollen nub begging for attention just above your wanting slit. It occurs to you that you very well could get off from his nose if he keeps this up any longer but just when you think that, his appendages disappear, and the airy chill on your soaked mound is enough to sober you up a little. You’ve half a mind to complain that he stopped, beginning to prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. 

But then there’s a swift, nonpainful swat to your inner left thigh.

“Lay back down,” Harry commands, growling in a voice dripping with a dominating tone that could send you off to the other side if you let it. “Nowhere near done tasting you yet.” 

 You’re on the kitchen island in Harry’s insanely lavish apartment, the skirt of your red dress pushed up over your waist to expose the lower half of you. Your black thong is hanging from the faucet on the kitchen sink, where it landed perfectly when Harry threw it behind his head without looking. You’d wanted to laugh at the bullseye, but Harry’s determination to get between your legs stopped you from being silly. Instead, you let him spread you, wailing and moaning as he proceeded to eat you out better than you’ve ever had it in your entire life. That you can confidently say, and you’ve had a handful of mouths bring pleasure to your body over the years.

Harry’s a pro beyond pros, knowing every little nuance to a woman’s most sacred of needs. 

He proves that when you follow his orders, laying back down to give him full access. His tongue runs from the base of your slit slowly up to your aching clit, stopping to swirl around it a few times before suckling lightly. Then he stops abruptly, repeating the entire pattern all over again. Each time he shows extra attention to your engorged nub, your body heats up even more and the cries of elation spewing from your wanton mouth echo through the apartment’s high ceilings.

Harry Castillo is secretly a madman, you’re sure of it, and his sexual vigor is right up your alley. The man is still fully dressed. You have no idea what his dick looks like, or the rest of that surely inviting body, and he hasn’t even seen your tits yet. They are still firmly secured in the bodice of your dress. 

Upon entering the apartment, Harry told you that if he didn’t get a taste of your pussy before the two of you did anything else, then he was liable to explode. 

Hearing him say that as he effortlessly lifted your ass up onto the gorgeously finished wood countertop? That made you start to fall for Harry Castillo before he ever put his mouth to your flesh. 

“Been thinking about this all night, sweetheart. Ever since we danced,” Harry says into your folds, hot breath and facial hair causing your back to arch in anticipation. He’s practically nuzzling your vagina with his entire face, spreading your wetness and his own saliva all over himself. You keep yourself neatly trimmed and waxed at all times thanks to your secret profession, and Harry seems to appreciate this immensely. “It’s even better than I imagined. So pretty and soft and wet for me, aren’t you?”

“All for you,” you breathe, pushing your hips forward to try and coax his mouth back onto you. “ Please , Harry,” you’re begging, voice husky and needy, “I was about to cum before you stopped.”

The chuckle Harry lets out is low and handsome, nearly sending you over the edge with the very sound of it. You feel his hands grip your thighs, spreading them even more. Then his tongue starts trailing each of your labia majora, one after the other. 

“I’m well aware of that, sweetheart. I just wasn’t ready for you to cum yet.” A kiss to your inner thigh. “Soon, though, I promise. Just be patient for a little longer.” A kiss to the opposite thigh. “Let me take care of you how you deserve to be taken care of.”

Then, without warning, two of his thick fingers enter you at once. They wiggle about a few times, getting fully coated in your fluids, and then he’s pumping slowly.

Wide-eyed, your head tilts up so you can look to where he’s seated between your legs on the footstool he’d pulled up when this encounter began. “ Harry ,” you breathe.

“Yes?” He asks, grinning devilishly up at you.

“You’re amazing,” you say dreamily, grinning widely to yourself as your head lay back down. 

Soon your orgasm is steadily building again, core tingling from the combination of his fingers curling sharply into your g-spot, and the darting flicks from left to right of Harry’s expert tongue. This time he doesn’t deny you, boring into your clit with more intensity as a third finger finds your entrance.

“Let go for me, sweetheart. Show me what you can do,” Harry coos lasciviously, then digs into his meal with a ferocity which finally tips you all the way over the edge.

Grunting and shaking, your body convulses with your hands braced against the countertop. It’s as if you’re trying to push all of yourself into Harry as the orgasm rocks through you, and then suddenly everything feels too sensitive and you’re hissing at him to lay off a little bit. 

He does, and as you breathe heavily in the aftermath of your bliss, he trails kisses all over your stomach before laying his head down on your belly button. Hands shakily prying themselves from the wood, you snake them into Harry’s soft brown hair and begin to comb your fingers through it. 

“You were so lovely,” he remarks, voice almost dreamy. “You came so beautifully for me, sweetheart.”

Your own voice sounds throaty, almost foreign to yourself. This isn’t like the fake voice you put on for work, this is real sexual tranquility. “Thank you, Harry. That might be my best orgasm to date. Not joking. I’ve received oral from a handful of people and I’ve never felt anything remotely close to what you just did."

“Well I will always try to ensure that your next one is still your best to date, then.” 

Fuck. He’s talking like this isn’t going to be a one night thing. And after the tonguing of a lifetime, you know you don’t want it to be either. You’re so royally fucked, and he hasn’t even actually fucked you yet.

Realizing this, you begin to sit up a little, causing Harry to lift up from your belly and look at you curiously. So you quickly explain, “I need you, Harry. All of you.” 

Harry stands, lifting you to sit up more with your ass sliding off the edge of the counter. He’ll have to clean that massive wet spot in the morning, but you pay that little mind as your bare feet touch the cool ground. Your knees begin to give out as your skirt falls to rest below them. Harry catches you easily as you wobble into him with a soft moan, and then without a word he’s sweeping you up into his arms bridal style. You’re a little nervous, given that you’re a few jean sizes up from someone like Vanessa, but he’s kissing you on the forehead as he easily carries you from the kitchen to the master bedroom with little strain.

There he lays you down on a bed of white satin, a bed so ridiculously huge that you can’t help but giggle at how tiny you feel laying in the center of it. 

Harry’s unbuttoning his shirt, smiling down at you fondly. “What’s funny?”

You’re shaking your head, laughing. “This bed is ginormous, Harry, and I haven’t called something ginormous since I was a kid. But it’s an appropriate adjective, this thing is cartoonishly big.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He asks, smirking. His shirt is gone, now his undershirt. The body hidden beneath is one well maintained with diet and exercise, defined lean muscle tone showing you as much. Naturally tan, with dark body hair and an appendix scar, he looks so utterly beautiful to you. His hands are going for his belt, and suddenly you’re up on your knees, scooting forward towards the edge of the mattress. “Wait, please let me,” you ask sweetly, hands already reaching for the black leather strap and silver buckle as Harry’s hands instead move to find the zipper leading down the right side of your red dress. 

As you unbuckle him and slide the belt from its loops, discarding the thing to the side, Harry is simultaneously unzipping you. He lifts the fabric, tugging upwards, and your arms lift to accommodate the rising garment as it’s peeled from your body. Harry, aware of how nice the dress is, gently hangs it over the back of the stylish black accent chair across the room. As he turns to really take in your fully nude appearance, a warm smile so sweet crosses his features. There’s lust in the expression, sure, but his eyes wash over you several times and each time it looks as if he’s almost overwhelmed by what he sees. 

“I’ve never seen pierced nipples in real life before,” he remarks, mesmerized by them as he leans forward to cup both breasts in his hands. The pad of each thumb runs gently over the black barbells, stimulating the raised nubs of flesh nestled between. 

For a moment you’re self-conscious about them, frowning a little. “Are they too much? Ex-goth girl, remember? They’re a relic of the past, but I loved them too much to get rid of them. The lip and the eyebrow had to go, though.”

Shaking his head, Harry frowns a little too. “Please don’t be embarrassed. I love them. It’s just a little new for me, that’s all. Will I hurt you if I play with them?”

Relieved, you smile at him with a shake of the head. “No, as long as you’re careful not to yank too hard, obviously.”

Harry takes that as permission to dive in, and both his hands and his mouth spend a good few moments ravishing your ample breasts. Squeezing, pinching, licking, biting. 

“You’re so lovely,” Harry says your name, “what a prize you are. Though, I don’t entirely know what I did to win.” 

“As if you’re not a prize too,” you say, rolling your eyes a little as finally he moves his crotch back within reach. You make quick work of undoing his trousers, and then he helps you yank them down his legs, stepping out of them. Gripping the elastic waistband of his black boxer briefs, your movements are slow and deliberate as you pull down and forward. The trail of dark hair below his belly button is growing wider and thicker by the inch, trimmed neatly but still prominent. Slowly the base of him becomes visible, and then in one swift move his erection is springing free. 

A little gasp escapes your lips at the sight of him, not only pleased to see his foreskin still intact but truly shocked by his size. You’re not entirely sure how long he is, certainly long enough, but the massive girth of him is really what makes your mouth water. The anticipation of that thing stretching your walls is enough to make your core heat up again, ready for round two. 

“You like him?” Harry asks, smiling down at you as one of his hands strokes your hair. 

“I love him,” you agree, licking your lips as you lean forward to take him into your hand. Harry moans, hips bucking slightly. Having worked with an uncircumcised cock before, you know how to grip him and gently pull downwards, unveiling his swollen head and the delicious little bud of precum waiting for you. “Now this is a prize. You even get to unwrap it,” you say with a flirtatious giggle, adding, “and dare I say it's ginormous . There I go using that word twice in one night.”

When your tongue flicks out to lick that offered drop, Harry’s whole being seems to melt into you a little. Grinning, you widen and slowly take him into your mouth. Adding a little bit of pressure and suction, you slowly begin to work him in and out as the hand gripping him continues its rhythmic pumping. The little whimpers he’s making for you are music to your ears. 

“Oh shit , sweetheart, you’re doing great, keep going,” Harry’s encouraging, both hands in your hair now as his eyes slip closed and he throws his head back a little. “ Fuck .”

You’re gagging, trying your best to fit all of him down your throat as a bit of drool dribbles down your chin, when suddenly he’s stopping you. He’s pulled out and he’s trying to push you to lay down. He even leans down to lick at one of your pierced nipples, his hand resting between your breasts as he pushes. 

“Wait, I wasn’t done yet,” you pout, reaching for him again. 

Harry growls, a primal noise from a refined man such as he, and he’s urging you backwards onto the white bed more. As you lay out below him and the gorgeous man is crawling between your legs, they instinctively bend and come to wrap around his hips a little. Your hands come to rest in the middle of his back, fingers gripping in anticipation of what’s to come. Then you feel the tip of his cock pressing into your entrance and, still slick from Harry’s treatment of you in the kitchen, your cunt welcomes him into your body easily. 

A great cry escapes you as the width of his cock stretches you out considerably, the line of pain and pleasure blurred as your walls clench and squeeze, half trying to accommodate him and half trying to expel the painful intrusion. 

Three slow, gentle pumps are all it takes for Harry to enter you all the way to the hilt, and when his tip presses painfully into your cervix, the moan you let out is quite guttural. 

Then his lips are on yours, and your legs are hooking behind him at the ankles as he really begins to pound into you. His hands come to your ass, sliding below each cheek. With the leverage this gives him, Harry lifts your hips from the mattress completely. Thrust after thrust he’s relentless, and another orgasm is already starting to build deep within your needy core. 

“You’re going to make me cum again,” you whine between heavy breaths. Head lifting up to bite into his bicep, the need to cling to him for dear life has taken over completely. The only thing you have left to grab him with is your teeth, and so you do.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Harry’s mouth is against your ear saying, “taking me so well like a good girl. I was right when I sang that to you earlier; Little pussy fits my dick so perfectly.” He pulls your ear lobe into his mouth, nibbling on the soft flesh as you writhe and whine for him. “You’re going to cum again, this time with my cock buried all the way inside you, sweetheart. Need to feel you contract around me. Then, if you’ll let me, I’m going to fill you up with mine.” 

Fearful, you practically start to push him off of you, terrified of the consequences if he were to cum in you. “I’m not on the pill! Or anything!” 

He stops thrusting for a moment, looking down at you seriously as he brushes hair from your eyes and kisses your forehead. “I had a vasectomy a few years ago. It was my forty-fifth birthday present to myself when I decided I definitely don’t want kids.” After he says that, he begins to slowly gyrate his hips into yours again, and you’re lifting to meet his movements in tandem. 

Then you kiss him with everything you’ve got. 

“ Fuck, Harry ,” you moan, “I think you might actually be fucking perfect for me.”

And with that, he fucks you until you’re practically braindead, completely stupified by his cock. You ride him a little, and then he’s on his knees taking you from behind off the edge of the bed. For a moment he migrates things to the bathroom, where he props you up on the sink and pounds into you standing up. 

Then it's back to the bed with your legs straight up his body, crossed ankles resting on his right shoulder. He’s holding them in place with his right hand, and his left is gripping into your thigh so hard you’re sure to have five small bruises where his fingers are indented into your smooth, damp skin. Harry’s done an expert job of edging you once more, changing positions each time you start to get close, his own stamina and restraint a marvel. It’s starting up again, though, and this time he’s not stopping to switch things around. 

“Close again, Harry,” you spout out through thick moans, a small part of you wanting him to prolong this more even though the rest of you is screaming in agony for release. 

“Go ahead,” he says sweetly, smiling as he kisses your calf and looks you right in the eyes. “Let me see that face while you cum for me. You look so beautiful stuffed with my cock, sweetheart. Show me .” 

Then he bites down on the same spot he just kissed, and your second orgasm overcomes you. Your muscles clench around him so hard, clinging to the very thing causing them to do so. Harry lets out a gorgeous sounding moan, leaning more of his weight into your legs as the pleasure of it seems to take hold of him. 

He’s parting your legs as you come down, twitching against him as he readjusts into a more basic missionary position. Your arms come to wrap around his neck, just as your legs move to wrap around his waist. Shortly after that, Harry’s own grunting cries of culminating ecstasy are ringing throughout the high ceilings of the bedroom. He’s convulsing against you and you’re instinctively cradling his head, peppering his cheeks and forehead with little kisses to guide him through it. A few more gentle pumps and he’s eventually sliding out of you with a great sigh. There’s almost instantly a distinct leaking sensation running down the crack of your ass. 

He’s kissing your forehead, then looking right into your eyes as he gets comfortable beside you. “You okay?”

“I’m great. How are you?

“I’m perfect, sweetheart. Just perfect.”

“Your body felt so good, Harry,” you’re sputtering out, grunting as your own body is again twitching in a brief aftershock of sexual bliss. “Everything felt so good.” 

Harry is nodding in agreement, looking up at the ceiling with this handsome little grin playing at the corner of his mouth. Shaking his head, his eyes are filled with wonder as if looking up at a star splattered night sky. He looks so youthful to you at that moment, de-aged ten years for a split second. “I haven’t had sex that great in- Fuck . I don’t know if I’ve ever had sex that great, and I thought I was having great sex pretty regularly. You’ve single handedly and irrevocably changed my life tonight. I hope you know that.”

You’re also looking up at the ceiling, deep breaths causing your breasts to rise and fall. What Harry just said is so true that it almost hurts to realize it. Things have changed, feeling suddenly like so much more than the one night stand you’d been anticipating. It doesn’t seem like the high endorphins is making you think this way, though. You’re well aware of what that feels like. Something about this night with Harry Castillo feels real. More real than anything you’ve ever felt with another. “Same goes for you, handsome. Ruined all other men for me in a single night together. It’s practically criminal.”

As you look over at Harry, his hair mussed and face flushed, a blush creeps into your cheeks at the notion that the wetness you feel running down you is actually him . Allowing him to finish inside was a genuinely new experience for you, and the thrill if it is so unlike what you were expecting. If anything you assumed it was going to feel gross. Cum always equalled babies in your book, so you never thought it would ever feel this amazing to know some of it is buried deep inside you and the rest of it is dripping onto the bed below. To know it’s the cum of this man in particular? That adds an extra layer to the feeling. 

It felt so different to embrace your lover in the heat of his orgasm, being so used to the empty, cold sensation of a pull-out and the inevitable warm spray to some other part of your body. There’s always been this sudden disconnect right before the moment of a man’s climax, but with Harry you got to ride it out with him, completely connected all the way up until the end. Connected in a way you never have been before, not even with a female partner. The notion of this stirs something deep within you, and your heart swells for the man placing kisses to your shoulder while he’s catching his breath. 

The most satisfying peacefulness washes over you as you tell him, “I’ve never let anyone cum inside me before.”

His brown eyes darken slightly, and Harry looks both surprised and a little pleased with himself. “Really?”

“Really,” you’re grinning, “I don’t want kids, so that shit was always very off limits. I’m not sure how to explain it in a way that you would understand, but that was very special for me. Thank you, Harry.” 

He leans over, grinning like a madman before kissing you passionately. “It was an honor to fill you up, sweetheart. I’d do that every single day if you’d let me.” 

*****

You and Harry ended up spending the entire weekend together against your better judgement. The longer time you spent in his company, the more the stupid fucking lie was hanging over your head. But your weekend with Harry proved to be downright magical, and the more the two of you got to know each other, the less easy it started to feel to come clean. You thought about doing it so many times, and each time your anxiety would stop you. What if he truly hates you after he learns the truth? He might not, you never know. But even after so many long talks and lovely sex and shared laughter, the truth is inevitably going to change the way he looks at you. The very thought of that sends your nervous system into an overload, and strikes a deep crack through your already straining heart.

Harry Castillo makes you feel the way the romantic novels that you most certainly do not write make you feel, and your greedy ass wasn’t about to go and fuck up what was turning out to be the best seventy-two hours of your life thus far. Morally gray as it may be, Harry could know the truth after your beautiful weekend together. You felt that you deserved at least that before you light the fuse that will blow this situation to hell whether you want it to or not. 

It’s as if you’re using your budding feelings for Harry to bargain with yourself for victory, but either way you’re liable to lose and deep down you know that.

The charity concert was on a Friday, so when the two of you woke up late into the morning on Saturday, Harry asked you if you wanted to stay for a while. He’d already taken the liberty of having his assistant drive over with a few different outfit options for you, and one swimsuit. All correct sizes, and all something you would have picked out for yourself, which gained Harry even more points in your book.  

‘A while’ started with french pressed coffee and a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and avocado toast, all made by Harry himself. Then ‘a while’ progressed into having sex again, this time on the living room couch, then once more on top of his washing machine after he’d started a load of laundry. You’d joked about how you could use another load too, and Harry ran with it. He ate his own cum out you while the machine whirled to life under your body, just before filling you up with even more of him. 

After that, the two of you went down to the lavish pool in Harry’s building. An over the top extravagant amenity with a gorgeous view of the city, and probably the nicest pool you’ve ever had the pleasure of swimming in. Once the two of you started to horseplay, however, things very quickly took a turn for the sexual once again. Harry’s finger had slipped inside of your tastefully high-waisted bathing suit under the water, and when his hidden erection pressed up against your bare leg, the pool was a thing of the past. 

That time he fucked you in his shower, bent over at the waist as hot water cascaded around your already enflamed body. When you begged him to take your ass in lue of your pussy, the man in question had moaned into your shoulder, “you’re a dream come true, sweetheart,” and he delivered what you asked for beautifully.

His assistant also brought you a small handful of basic beauty products to choose from. As you were later lathering on a serum nicer than any brand you’ve ever bought, even with your recently raised standards, it dawned on you that Harry probably spent at least five or six hundred dollars, if not more, on all of these things for you. That kind of casual spending, on you no less, made your head spin a little. 

You may pamper yourself all the time, but it’s wildly different when a man like Harry Castillo is the one doing the pampering.

In the evening Harry ordered takeout from his favorite place in Chinatown, and given that the both of you didn’t have a single bodily fluid left to give, the night was filled with conversation, snuggles, and soft touches. He let you pick out a movie, and the two of you fell asleep spooning on his couch (also ginormous, by the way) halfway through Bram Stoker’s Dracula from 1993.

On Sunday, after breakfast and one more go around in the oversized bed, Harry took you to the Central Park Zoo. His almost boyish energy around all of the animals was so endearing to you, especially when he lit up for you around the bats. Given that the winged animals played an integral role in the events which led to your dalliance with Harry, he felt the need to commemorate the weekend by purchasing you a stuffed one from the gift shop. You never even saw him go for the register, preoccupied by a rack of silly t-shirts. So when he presented it to you upon exiting, you’d thrown your arms around his neck and kissed him right there in the middle of central park. All the while your mind was screaming at you to tell him the truth, but you listened to your body instead. 

From there he took you to a ridiculously nice Italian restaurant, where he confessed to you over pasta that he’s never been in love and he’s scared that he never will be. That confession had shocked you, even more so when he quickly followed it up with a warning that if you said yes to what he was about to ask, then you were taking on the risk that he’s incapable of the feeling all together. The notion of him being incapable seemed silly, considering how affectionate he’d been with you thus far, but you kept that thought to yourself. 

Then Harry reached across the table, and the next confession came pouring out of him. He told you that he wanted to try to feel love, and he felt something with you that he honestly hadn’t before. Not love, not when you barely know each other, but that spark that they talk about in the movies. One little spark, but enough to grab his attention and hold it fast. 

After making your head spin with his honesty, he proceeded to say that the last couple of days truly meant a lot to him and, with the deepest sincerity in his chocolate eyes, Harry Castillo asked if you would let him see you again. Seriously, and exclusively. 

Your answer was the easiest one to give in the world, and yet instead of shining bright like the sun as it should have been, your heart suddenly felt much more like the moon hanging ominously over the city. While the front facing side of your heart swelled a bright, glorious red for the possibility of a relationship with this man, the side cast in shadow was already starting to shrivel and turn gray with guilt. 

*****

As you finish frantically pacing the floor and vividly telling a couch faring Vanessa everything about your weekend with Harry, sparing her the gorier sexual details, your stomach lurches and your heart sinks. While you’ve been wildly wrapping up the story, a great, ugly scowl has been slowly encompassing her normally beautiful features. There’s no hiding from your best friend, that’s just a fact. 

“Listen, I know what you’re going to say,” you try to diffuse, hands up.

“Listen my ass ,” she says your name sharply, stabbing you right where she wants to. 

You wince .

“I’m glad that got your attention, bitch.” With that, Vanessa pats the cushion beside her. “Sit down, your energy is stressing me the fuck out .”

“Sorry,” you say, complying.

“We are both grown-ups here, so I’m going to speak plainly.” Vanessa bores into you with her dark eyes, making your throat seize up. “You know what you need to do, or you’re going to fuck up what is potentially the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“I know,” you breathe, frowning. “I’m going to have to finish one of my novels and get it published."

Vanessa groans ferociously, hands clawing over her face. Then she whacks you in the head with a pink throw pillow. “No, you stupid slut! Tell him the fucking truth! If you let this go on too long the damage will be too severe to repair.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you say, hanging your head. You’re going to have to hit the bong several times in order to sleep tonight, the horrid pit in your stomach will make sure of that. “Fuck, Van. I really am stupid aren’t I?”

“You are. But I love you, and maybe if you handle this situation correctly then Daddy Warbucks will love you too,” she says, grinning a little as she uses the silly nickname. You can already tell she’s going to drive that into the grave with over-use. 

Her change in mood warms you, and the anxiety melts away a little. Feeling more like yourself, you send her one of your signature, Vanessa exclusive eyerolls. “Are we really going to call him that?”

“If you’re really going to date him I am,” Vanessa giggles. 

“What if he really can’t feel love, Van?” You ask her, frowning. 

Vanessa shrugs. “If that’s even a real thing. Sounds to me like he just hasn’t been in real love yet, not that he simply can’t feel it. But if it is true, then at least he was an interesting chapter of your life and a good lay. Date him for a few weeks before you worry about that, anyway. What if you’re the one who doesn’t end up loving him?”

As she says this, your phone buzzes against the coffee table. Reaching over to grab it, your eyes bulge a little at the name associated with the text notification. He just dropped you off a few hours ago, surely you’d assumed it would be a few days before you heard from him again. But here he is, making your heart flutter from the other side of the city. 

Harry Castillo: Two nights with you beside me and I’m spoiled rotten. You were right. This bed is ginormous. Sleep well, sweetheart. 

“I think he’s going to make not loving him incredibly difficult, Vanessa.”

*****

Monday morning Harry’s seated in his office doing the complete opposite of working. He’s on his phone, which makes him a hypocrite considering he recently instructed the management team to start cracking down on that with the associate employees. 

He simply can’t help it. You’re literally all he can think about, to the point that he’s a little worried that something is wrong with him. You’d responded to his text last night, but you haven’t said anything to him since and he’s fixating on whether or not it’s appropriate to text you again so soon if you haven’t texted him first.

Fucking cellphones, Harry thinks bitterly, chiding himself for behaving like a teenager as he sits the phone face down on the glass top protecting his cherry desk. He looks at his computer, opens an email, reads the first three words of the subject line, and then he’s picking up his phone again to check it despite the fact that he knows it hasn't gone off.

Nothing. He groans, feeling like an idiot as he reaches for a sip of coffee. He doesn’t put the phone back down, though, instead he pulls up his camera roll and the couple of photos of you he snuck over the weekend. 

The first is of you, in nothing but one of his black t-shirts and a lacy black thong, your back mostly to the camera as you sip on a mug of creamy coffee. You’re looking contently at the view from Harry’s kitchen window, sunlight streaming all over you. He loves your profile in that one, and the way the light accentuates your features. 

The next is a photo of your naked silhouette in the frosted glass of his shower. 

The third photo is of you at the zoo, happily captivated by the animals and paying no mind to the fact that Harry just had to capture how beautiful and carefree you looked in that moment. 

He’s never taken candid photos of a lover before, nor has he obsessed over receiving a text from one. He certainly never paid this much mind to when Lucy would or would not contact him, and he’d been prepared to marry the woman for Christ’s sake. 

Harry also never once called Lucy ‘sweetheart.’ Or any pet names, now that he thinks about it. Never a ‘baby,’ or a ‘honey.’ Not once. He would always greet her with a simple, somewhat awkward ‘hey you’, and he mostly just called her by her name. 

You come into his life and suddenly he’s throwing around the term of endearment like his life depends on it, and somehow not hearing from you yet is driving him mad with anxious energy. Harry Castillo is a man who is very rarely anxious. 

What is wrong with him? 

There were a lot of people at the charity event, and at the zoo. Maybe he’s coming down with something. Yes, surely he’s getting sick and that’s why his head’s not on straight.

Then the phone vibrates in his hands, and your name flashes just above the image of your grinning face. His heart leaps from his chest, breath hitching. He taps it before it can swoosh away with the rest of his notifications, and a feeling of calm washes over him as he reads the message.

You: Missing your avocado toast this morning. :(

It shows that you’re typing, and then a second message pops up. This one is a photo, however. In it, you’re wearing a black graphic t-shirt advertising what he’s certain is the band Type-O Negative . Your hair looks insane, adorably so, and you’re pouting cutely over a sad looking cup of yogurt.

Harry’s got half a mind to cancel his meeting and take you out for brunch, but before he can even think of a response to text you back with, his younger brother is barging into his office without knocking. He’s the only person besides their mother who can get away with that .

“What, Peter? I’m busy,” Harry says, not looking up from his phone. 

“You don’t seem very busy to me. Is that her you’re texting?” His brother’s voice is saying. 

Harry looks up sharply, glaring. Words aren’t necessary.

Peter grins, plopping himself into the chair across from Harry’s desk. He takes a long sip of his own black coffee, eyeing Harry the entire time. “I originally came in here to complain that I missed the surprise Bad Bunny show, which I’m very upset about. Charlotte being pregnant is ruining all my fun, but don’t you dare tell her I said that. Anyway, then I heard a rumor that you found yourself a new woman at the show, and that the two of you got to know each other very well on the dance floor. I just had to come hear all about it.”

Harry’s eyes narrow even more at his annoyance of a sibling. He loves him, but he could also strangle him at any given moment. “Get out of my office, Peter. I need to prep for the meeting at eleven.”

“Yeah cause you were doing that so dutifully before I walked in,” Peter laughs, taking another generous sip. “So is that her you’re texting, then? What’s she look like?”

Harry groans, “Yes, it’s her.” Then his eyes flick back down to the open text thread, and when they land on the adorable photo of you with your pathetic yogurt, the joyful little smile which creeps onto his lips simply can’t be helped. 

Peter’s jaw drops, “ Oh . Oh fuck , Harry. This is a wild development. I wasn’t expecting this today.”

Harry’s gaze moves back to his brother, eyebrow raising at the look on his face. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

Peter’s sharp laugh is one of disbelief. “She’s the one, man! I’m calling it. You’ve never looked like this before. Not once in my entire life have I seen that fucking look on your face. It’s the only explanation!”

“Bullshit, Peter,” Harry scoffs, looking away but not back down at your image. He has to consciously make himself not, knowing Peter would notice and use the impulse against him. “You know my opinion on that.”

“Whatever, big brother. Suit yourself. As the one of us who has fallen in love, I think I know what I’m talking about. But I’ll let you figure that shit out for yourself. Wait until Charlotte finds out, she’s going to go nuts.” As he says this, Peter is already getting up to leave. “See you in the conference room. Please actually prep for this though. I need you out there. Text her back and then think about her later. Trust me, it gets easier the more you get used to it. Love is fucking weird, man.”

“I am not in love with her,” Harry argues, shaking his head. If anything, what he’s feeling is infatuation more than anything else, right? 

“Keep telling yourself that, bro. And for the love of Christ, get your shit together for this meeting.” And with that, Peter is gone as quickly as he came. 

Harry looks around his large office, at his view of the city below, and wonders if there’s any validity to what his brother just said. Another vibration goes off in his hand, and the excitement he feels is like a jolt of caffeine straight to his heart. 

Only, it’s just his calendar reminder letting him know that his next meeting is in fifteen minutes. The deep disappointment he feels leads him to conclude that Peter doesn’t need to get Harry’s hopes up like that, but there’s a nonzero chance that his baby brother actually knows what he’s talking about for once.

*****

Next

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Masterlist

*****

Taglist: @cheyxfu @notahappystan

[lovelake]

JUST PATHETIC AT THIS POINT

In which you ask your stalker (Kylar) to milk you after weeks of getting no relief

m!kylar x gn!reader | mdni, 2.2k wc, lactation (bovine tf!reader), nipple play, dry humping, stalking, kylar has kidnapped reader before (references to his abduction event), implied/referenced sexual assault

note: i love this freak

read on ao3

Translucent white—your bathwater was no longer clear. Frequent puffs of breath managed to fog up the mirror. Your hands were too tired to continue, but your chest was still full to the point it was downright painful.

How long have you been here for? Your room was out of the question when it came to doing this since it would make too much of a mess. This way, you could just watch it all go down the drain and be left squeaky clean.

You couldn’t go on like this, you needed relief. You were desperate.

So desperate, that your mind went to the person who would usually be the last solution to your problems. Surely, he would be more than eager to please.

Yeah, the classmate you’ve pushed away time and time again. The guy whose manor you escaped from—and who you should probably have a restraining order against by now (not like those would even be maintained in a town like this).

Kylar.

You reach for the drain to let the water start going down and get out the tub to dry up and get dressed. If you let the idea marinate, you would throw it in the trash.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this, you think to yourself when you finally exit.

“Hey, stop hogging up the restroom! This is the third time this week!”

“Shit, sorry.” You cast your orphan hall mate an apologetic smile. “Won’t happen again.”

It probably will happen again.

You never thought you’d be willingly walking to Kylar’s place, but here you were. You kicked at rocks as you walked, ignoring the occasional catcalls thrown your way—your thoughts silenced them.

Fuck Remy. Fuck his goons. Fuck Harper. Bless the centaurs—they were the only ones you wished prosperity upon, but they weren’t enough to make you want to return.

Oh, but the imagery of lush green hills and cloudless skies called out to your soul. The dribbles of sweetness that rolled down your chin from the occasional apples you chose not to share remained unrivaled. Headpats and praises were handed to you every time you were good.

No!

You shook your head and tried not to fall for the deception that was forcibly drilled into your head. Collar. Riding crop. Hypnosis. Shadows looming over you when you woke up. It was terrible.

Danube street was cleaner than the one you lived on, and just a tad bit safer (not much at all, though). The houses were nicer to look at despite the envy that built up inside you. Eventually, you find a worn down path and make your way toward the forest.

His parents must be really rich. Last time you hadn’t had the time to pay attention to just how big the manor was, you were too busy escaping to care.

It gave you the creeps—it looked like it could be the main setting in a horror movie.

You heard the rustling of nearby bushes. Seconds later, you heard a series of doors slam shut. Looking up, you saw a curtain sway before quickly falling back into place.

Ah. Looks like Kylar had been stalking you as you walked to his place. Frankly, you weren’t in the mood to lecture him.

He left the front door open, what a gentleman—you didn’t even have to knock. You let yourself in, nearly tripping over some vines on the floor.

“Jesus…”

Finding his room wasn’t hard at all, not with the fast-paced footsteps you heard above you to your left. Each stair creaked as you went up, you held onto the railing just in case.

He visibly flinched when his door swung open, reclining back on his desktop chair and trying to act normal—like his hair wasn’t ruffled with leaves on top of it, like he wasn’t out of breath from trying to beat you to his room.

“Sorry for the mess…I wasn’t expecting company.”

You weren’t really here for small talk though.

“Kylar…I need you to help me.” You walk up to him and tug at his hoodie, leading him off his chair and to his bed. You didn’t have to pull him strongly at all, he was always ready to be dragged around by you like a doll whenever you pleased.

“What?! Now?” He stopped listening after the first four words. Had you forgiven him for betraying your trust? Were you coming to your senses and realizing that you belonged with him?

Kylar obediently sat on his bed, dick already hard as you straddled his lap. He almost felt like running because of the long-awaited anticipation—he wanted to touch you, badly. And you came here willingly.

He started rambling. “W-What positions do you like? Do you want me to put on some music? I have some lube in my drawer! If you’re still mad at me you can put a leash on me or use my knife!”

“What?” Oh. Right. You straddled him, this gave him the wrong idea. “Nonono, I meant something…else.”

Disappointed flashed across his face, but he nodded, not wanting to upset you anymore than he already had in the past months. This was progress, maybe you’d start liking him.

Fuck. You didn’t really think about how you’d actually bring it up. You felt a bit embarrassed for some reason—which is ridiculous considering that this guy is fucked up in the head for you.

“I um…I need you to milk me.” You tell him, voice quiet.

His face flushed, he blinked a couple times as he processed what you said. Your horns and fluffy ears had his attention, back and forth. He then felt something swish against his thighs—your tail.

“So…they’re actually real? I always thought you were just cosplaying or something.”

“Don’t act so surprised, I’m sure you already caught on by now anyway.” How could he be unaware when he practically knew everything about you through creepy methods?

“I-I…” He looks down at his sheets, idly picking at them. “I didn’t know about this, I swear.”

Ever since you got rid of the owl plushie in your room, he had been watching you directly from your window. But he had never noticed your predicament, because unbeknownst to him, you’d only been milking yourself in the restroom.

“Is that why…” He murmured to himself, thinking of the shirts he had stolen from you and how some occasionally carried a sweet smell (that didn’t align with any of your fragrances—he would know). “Never mind.”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes or no?” He copied your question out of confusion, head cocked to the side.

God, he was cute despite everything he’d subjected you to and it pissed you off.

“Will you help me?”

“Yes!” The answer slipped out naturally and all too eagerly—he was visibly shaking with excitement.

Fabric rustled, you started taking your top off.

He averted his eyes and gulped—he would drool otherwise.

“Now you’re too shy to look?” You ask with a scoff. “You didn’t seem to care when you had me naked and chained up.”

He squeaks in response, wide eyes flitting to yours before softening and trailing down to your chest. Your nipples were hard—his were too underneath his shirt, but solely from arousal unlike yours.

“A-Are you still mad at me?” His voice trembled, he didn’t want you to be upset. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I am,” you admitted quietly. “I can’t forgive you. Maybe you can start redeeming yourself, though.”

He nodded, willing to do anything for you to no longer ignore his existence. Things had been somewhat okay before he kidnapped you—you’d talk to him at lunch sometimes and would approach him at the park.

Everything would go back to normal eventually, right?

He took a deep breath before placing his hands on your chest. The warmth of your skin transferred to him and lit his face up in flames.

“Like this?” Milk started to trickle once he tweaked your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs.

“You can add more pressure,” you tell him, able to feel that he was holding back—maybe from the fear of hurting you (which was ironic for reasons you wouldn’t bring up again).

“Okay.”

This isn’t weird at all, you internally repeated that like a mantra. You shut your eyes, not wanting to see the blush on his face or the look of worship in his intense gaze.

“I was thinking breast pumps could help.” You voiced your thoughts, wanting to detach from what was actually happening—the tingling feeling building inside you wasn’t helping. “But um…I don’t like the doctor at the hospital.”

“Mm,” he was listening, but was more transfixed on the way your milk rolled down your stomach. Kylar’s mouth watered, he had half the mind to dip his head down and lick you clean.

“Was thinking maybe Sirris would have something to help, but his store isn’t open yet and I’m too ashamed to ask if he’s gotten any packages.”

Your breathing gradually grew heavier. You were turned on, much to your demise. How could you not be when your nipples were getting tugged at and pinched? Plus, it was really hard to ignore the bulge pressed up against your right inner thigh.

Don’t open your eyes, don’t open your eyes, don’t open your eyes.

But you did—and they were met with the sight of Kylar’s bottom lip tucked between his teeth, he was drooling a little regardless. When he noticed you staring, he let go.

“Can I use my mouth?” His words were slurred together.

God, yes. You weren’t thinking properly. You nodded, cradling the back of his head and pressing his face close to your chest.

His tongue flicked against your nipple before he latched onto it to provide actual suction. Your other one didn’t go neglected and was still being played with by his fingers. Pleased whimpers filled the room, mostly from him as he drank greedily from you.

“That feels good…” Your lower abdomen was heating up.

“Mmph,” Kylar liked the praise—now sucking at you with renewed determination. Somewhere along the way, his hips started rutting up against yours.

“It’s…” He pulled away with a pop and took a deep breath, “sweet.”

He positioned himself in front of your other nipple to give it the same treatment. How would he ever go back to drinking regular milk after this? Yours was addictive like candy, the taste would linger in his dreams for the rest of his life. He lost count of how many times he’s gulped.

You felt some relief for the first time in weeks, your chest was less heavy. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling on it gently. Your hips started moving too. Clouds, you were in the clouds. It didn’t matter that you were panting erratically and moaning from the touch of your stalker and were close to cumming and—

“Ow, teeth!”

“S-Sorry!” Kylar yelped, pulling away immediately and checking up on you, tears brimming at the edge of his eyes from concern. “I didn’t mean to, are you okay? I got carried away.”

You shouldn’t want to, but you really wanted to kiss him. Glazed eyes, messy chin from fluids, the dick rubbing up against you. Fuck, the need was making you lose yourself.

Your lips smashed against his—you could taste your milk.

Kylar pawed at you, hands running up and down your sides before reaching back to cup your ass. Kisses aren’t meant to be quiet by any means, but he was really kicking it up a notch by whimpering loudly into your mouth.

“I-I’m gonna…”

“Me too.”

You tried to match the pace of his hips but it was no use, he was unpredictable, the two of you were an uncoordinated mess. There was nothing sensual about it, just pure desire. The friction sent sparks flying everywhere until you saw stars.

Shockwaves of pleasure left you writhing in his arms, you held onto him tight, nails digging into his shoulders—he moaned even louder from the rough treatment. The top of his shirt was soaked from the leakage of your milk (he was never going to wash this shirt ever again).

He felt like jelly. His body fell back but he managed to keep himself upright with his forearms until you toppled over him and pushed him flat on his back.

An ache formed in his chest, Kylar was fully prepared for you to immediately get off and leave.

But you didn’t. You snuggled closer to him instead. Your horns gently rubbed against his right shoulder over and over again.

Heavy breathing filled the room for a minute before he hesitantly raised his hand to stroke the back of your head. “How did this happen to you?”

Silence was your answer. He frowned but didn’t push it—he figured it had something to do with that one week where you’d gone missing.

“I’ll kill whoever did this one day,” he whispered to you, planting a kiss against one of your ears.

You shivered, was that supposed to be romantic?

“Thanks for helping me with this.” Forgiveness still wasn’t in store for him, but you were still grateful. “I should go.”

He held onto your arm as you got up, staring at you pleadingly—but you could recognize the glint of obsession seeping through, Kylar wouldn’t be leaving you alone anytime soon after this.

“I’ll be back. Probably.”

He didn’t let go.

“Fuck…next week?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[peasack]

I love your work!!! I was wondering if you'd write a teen!reader headcanon for them struggling with mental health, needing help with homework, coming out or getting bullied please? I especially love how you write Ava (she's my favourite character) and you manage to nail the Alexis voice

Absolutely adore this request.

I chose to write about the mental health, since I all of them (obviously) know how to deal with that. But I'll definitely put the other suggestions on my list!

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Thunderbolts Mental Health Support Headcanons ✦

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✦ Ava Starr

The quiet protector. Ava’s not the type to talk circles around you or push you to open up. Instead, she watches. She notices the changes in your behaviorthe silence, the distance, the fake smiles and instead of asking a million questions, she simply shows up. She’ll quietly sit next to you, maybe reading or scrolling on her phone, just so you know she’s there without overwhelming you.

Understands isolation deeply. After everything with her phasing, Ava knows what it’s like to feel broken, like you're a burden, like no one could possibly understand. So when you isolate, she doesn’t take it personally. She just leaves a small trail for you to follow when you’re ready a text, a post-it note, a granola bar on your desk. Tiny signs that say you’re not forgotten.

Soft but firm boundaries. If you try to shut her out completely or brush her off with a fake “I’m fine,” Ava will tilt her head at you with this deadpan look and go, “Try again.” Not mean, not angry. Just “I see through you. You’re not fine. But I’ll wait for you to be ready.” She never lets you disappear completely.

Takes you on quiet, low-pressure ‘missions.’ She’ll invite you on drives, walks, or errands that sound boring but feel safe. “Come with me to pick up supplies. No talking necessary.” It’s her way of offering you company without forcing conversation. These small moments help you reconnect to the world without overwhelming you.

Gentle about scars and history. When she finds out about your past or your scars, she doesn’t freak out. She doesn’t lecture. She just softly says, “You’ve survived a lot. You don’t have to survive it alone anymore.” And that’s it. She holds it like a secret you entrusted her with.

Fiercely protective in her own silent way. If anyone triggers you, bullies you, or drags you down—Ava will quietly, ruthlessly remove that threat from your life. No one knows how, but that person suddenly just leaves you alone. Ava doesn’t need credit or thanks. She just protects you. Always.

✦ Alexei Shostakov

Not the best with words, but man does he show up. Alexei might not always know what to say, but he makes sure you know you’re not alone. He’ll randomly sit with you, bring you snacks, or drag you into the living room to watch terrible old Soviet movies with him, just to keep you company.

Overcompensates with physical comfort. He’s big on hugs and ruffling your hair, and you get the sense he’s constantly making sure you’re still there, still safe. He’s the kind of guy who will pat your back so hard you almost fall over—but you feel a little better afterward.

Terrible at hiding his concern. He’ll blurt out things like, "You are not allowed to disappear, okay? I will find you. I will find whoever made you sad. I will crush them like beetle."

Secretly keeps an eye on your routines. He notices if you’re skipping meals, missing sleep, or isolating. He’s not subtle—he’ll straight up drag you out of bed and be like, “We are going for silly little walk. It is non-negotiable.”

Panics when you cry. He immediately calls for backup (usually Yelena) like he’s reporting a code red. But he stays. Always. Even when he’s unsure what to do, he refuses to leave your side.

✦ Yelena Belova

The calm-in-a-storm type. When you’re spiraling, Yelena doesn’t flinch. She sits next to you, quietly, like, "Okay. We are sad now. I will be sad with you." She doesn’t try to fix you. She just holds space.

Violently protective of your mental space. If someone at school or even in the team says something that hurts you, she’s on it like a hawk. “Tell me who. I just want to talk.” (She does not just want to talk.)

Talks about her own issues openly. She’ll casually drop lines like, "Yeah, I have bad days too. I usually throw knives to feel better." She tries to normalize it so you never feel broken.

Pulls you into little missions or tasks when you isolate. "Come help me spy on Alexei. It will be fun." It’s her way of reconnecting you with the world.

Terrible with cheesy comfort phrases. Instead, you get blunt affection. "You are not allowed to give up. You are my family. You do not get to leave me. I will be annoying forever, so you must stay to suffer me."

✦ Bucky Barnes

The king of quiet understanding. He never pushes. Never demands you explain. Just sits next to you, offers a cup of tea, and sometimes just says, "I’ve been there. You don’t have to talk, but I get it."

Not great with open emotional convos but will listen all night if you need. He doesn’t always know what advice to give, but he will nod along, let you ramble, and toss in dry little jokes to keep you grounded.

Gives you space but always checks in. Leaves little notes on your door like "I’m making food. You better eat." Or sends you a text: "Still breathing? Cool. Come hang when you’re ready."

Gets quietly, intensely protective if anyone makes you feel worse. He won’t make a scene but will 100% have a quiet, terrifying “chat” with the person responsible.

Teaches you small things to help. Like how to box when you’re angry, or how to breathe when you’re spiraling. He’s the type to hand you coping tools instead of empty comfort.

✦ Bob Reynolds

So, so soft about it. Bob is super emotionally tuned in and probably notices you’re struggling before you say anything. He gets this gentle, concerned tone like, "Hey, kid… you doing okay?"

Overthinks and worries a lot. He’s scared of saying the wrong thing or making you worse, but he wants to help. He’ll sit with you, make you tea, or put on your favorite show just to be near you.

Big on distraction days. He’ll offer to play games, watch movies, even sit and listen to music together, anything to help you breathe and not be stuck in your head.

Sassy comfort. Once you’re closer, he’ll throw in playful sass to make you smile when you’re down. "Look, you’re stuck with me now. Can’t get rid of me. I’m like emotional gum on your shoe."

If you cry in front of him, he crumbles. He holds you so carefully like you might break, and his voice drops to the softest whisper like, "Hey… hey, you’re safe. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

✦ John Walker

Awkward but fiercely loyal. John’s not super in touch with his own emotions, but the moment he sees you’re struggling, he’s locked in. He just… doesn’t always know how to handle it. "You, uh, wanna… I dunno. Wanna hit something? Or get ice cream? Or whatever helps?"

Overprepares. Starts reading up on mental health resources, making checklists in his phone like "Things To Help The Kid When They're Sad" because he genuinely wants to be good at this.

Dad-mode activated. He’ll randomly show up with snacks, your favorite drink, or movie nights without making a big deal out of it. If you try to thank him, he waves it off like, "Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s what I’m here for."

Gets super angry at anyone who hurts you. Like, full-on clenched fists, ready-to-throw-down angry. But he channels it quietly—he just gets very, very protective from a distance.

Awkward comfort, but real. Might pat your back stiffly and mutter, "Look… I might not always get it. But I care about you, okay? You’re family. You’re my kid now. Deal with it."

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Hope this was alright, it's a little more detailed on Ava’s part since, of course, the request was for her.

If you guys have more requests please leave them in my inbox! <3

[conclover]

Mr. Tenna x GN! Reader | Static Hearts Part 6

Previous chapter

Summary: Tenna has prepared a special game just for the two of you.

Warnings: +18, penetration, bondage, semi-public sex, dom Tenna, slight power play, reader’s genitalia are not specified, Tenna is a pathetic yandere jealous man, dubious consent.

Notes: Saliva might not be the ideal substitute for water based lube, but apparently... sex shops don’t exist in my fanfics.

Word count: 4K (more or less)

“Ladies…”

“...present to you…”

“...today’s show…”

The words bled into each other, distant and distorted, like a radio stuck between stations. Your head throbbed with something similar to a familiar ache, the kind that follows a long night of partying and one drink too many.

“Don’t worry!”

That voice. It was familiar. Too familiar. Cheerful, bright and utterly charismatic.

“They’re perfectly fine… It’s all part of tonight’s show!”

Your eyelids fluttered open, but light stabbed through your vision like knives. Everything shimmered, as if you’d spent days in darkness and had just stumbled into the sun. You blinked hard, trying to make sense of the shapes. Where were you?

“They’ll be awake any time soon!”

A glowing red light blinked on its side like a mechanical heartbeat, aimed squarely at your face. A camera? 

You shifted, instinctively trying to move. Only then did you feel it. Something hard pressed against your chest. You glanced down. A podium. You were bent over it.

“The ropes are for security reasons!”

You noticed your arms were tied up behind your back. You struggled again, twisting your wrists, but the restraints bit in snug and tight. They were not painful. Just tight enough to remind you that you weren’t going anywhere. Not until someone let you.

You tested your legs. They weren’t restrained. For a moment, you thought maybe you could still move, still walk away. Until you pushed yourself up and a large hand shoved firmly between your shoulder blades, forcing you back down.

“You’re finally awake!” 

The voice came again, this time right beside your ear.

Your eyes flew open fully.

Tenna.

You twisted your head as far as you could, trying to see him. He was right behind you, impossibly close and his form was larger now, somehow broader than you had seen before. You couldn’t quite see his face, but there was a screen right behind him that flashed an animated sparkly text.

“Round… one… ready?” you read aloud slowly, the words catching on your tongue. 

“That’s right!” Tenna beamed, his palm still pressing firmly between your shoulder blades. “You’re just in time for tonight’s very special episode!”

A wave of applause roared from somewhere, but when you looked toward the sound, the audience was empty. Only a camera remained which hovered nearby, capturing the perfect shot of the two of you. 

“Tenna, what is this?” you asked, your voice tight with nerves. You didn’t move, even though his hand was no longer holding you down.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough for you to see the glow of his screen and the eerie smile painted on it.

“Oh, don’t be so nervous, darling,” he said in an almost loving way. “This round is all about compatibility. I thought we could finally get a little honest with each other.”

Slowly, he leaned over you. His weight pressed against your back, not enough to hurt, but enough to trap you in place and to remind you who was in control this time.

“Ready to play?” he murmured, propping an elbow casually on the smooth podium just inches from your face.

You lifted your gaze. He was holding a stack of cue cards, humming happily to himself as he flipped through them like this was any other game night.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he repeated, almost sweetly, pressing himself closer against you. 

At first, you hesitated, unsure how you even ended up here or why you were tied. But when his hand drifted down your waist, a shiver ran through you. You gave him an exaggerated nod, drawn to him without question. You didn’t care if this was strange. You needed him. Every inch of your skin craved him. You didn’t care how it happened, you just needed to be touched after months of starvation in this odd place.

“Such a good contestant we have here tonight, folks!” he cooed, his voice smooth and theatrical, though it was just the two of you.

Tenna shifted against you, the motion slow and erotic, pressing his body to yours with a boldness that made your heart stutter. Was he already hard?

His fingers toyed with the waistband of your pants. Just enough to remind you how easily he could undo you, how close his hand was to something private. It was a calculated invasion of space. Nothing more for now. Not until you gave him the right answers.

“And remember…” he said with a smile in his voice, “...if you answer wrong…” He let the silence hang, just long enough for it to settle in your chest, “I might have to punish you.”

He let out a low mischievous chuckle and somehow, it only made you crave him more. He must have been savoring it. This moment, this control over you. The way your breath hitched everytime he pressed his hips forward. The way your body reacted despite yourself. He could feel it and he reveled in it. 

Pathetic…

You were already on your knees for him and he knew it. Ugh, he knew exactly how to make you grind your teeth in frustration, how to twist you up with longing until it hurt. He knew how to make you desperate. And starving you like this? Keeping you right on the edge for months? He must have planned this all... or not?

Tenna flipped to the first cue card, holding it closer to his screen face. Then, with a sudden grin, he tossed all the cards into the air. He didn’t need them at all, he already knew exactly what he wanted to ask you.

“Let’s start easy,” he said cheerfully as he leaned in, his voice warm and comforting against your ear, yet his words were laced with venom. “Why were you laughing with Lanino near the vending machines yesterday?”

Your stomach dropped, but the surge of emotions were abruptly interrupted as Tenna tore down your pants and underwear in one swift and forceful motion. The cold air of the studio hit your skin like a slap, leaving you exposed and slightly embarrassed at the thought of being filmed. 

“Was he telling you jokes?” he continued, his hand travelling down the curve of your body to reveal more skin. “Or were you just… happy to see him?”

His screen was closer to you now, his hand holding your chin tightly so you would look at him. He was searching for something beneath the surface. A glimpse of truth, guilt, a flinch, anything.

“Question two,” he sang sweetly, your eyes not daring to look away from his flickering screen. “Would you ever kiss someone else if I wasn’t looking?”

His smile widened, as if he was too pleased. You didn’t understand why until you heard it. The soft clink of metal as his fingers unfastened the belt, the leather slipping loose with a slow hiss. The button popped a second later and then came the unmistakable sound of his zipper being pulled down.

He didn’t say a word. Just stood there, watching your every reaction while the sound lingered in the thick silence like a threat. 

“And don’t lie,” he added, his voice carrying a note of danger that made it clear this was a warning, not a request. “You’re not as good of a liar as you think you are.”

He’d noticed it. The way your hips shifted, almost involuntarily. The way your body betrayed you, like instinct had taken over. You really were hopeless, just the slightest pressure and you were completely at his mercy. Tenna chuckled in response, with a knowing sound that sent a chill down your spine.

His hand slipped away from your chin, slowly and deliberately, trailing down until it disappeared from view. You couldn’t see where it went, but you could guess. And that guess twisted something deep in your gut, not dread but want.

“Question three,” Tenna continued, voice calm but cutting, his attention fixed on you as if the answer might break something in him. He was deliberately ignoring the heat in your body in favor of something he needed more: answers. “Do you want someone else to touch you, or are you just trying to hurt me?”

The silence that followed was heavy and pressed thick against your chest.

“Tick-tock, sweetheart,” he whispered, his throbbing erection brushing lightly against your entrance with each subtle twitch. “Your turn to answer.”

“Tenna…” you gasped, your voice caught somewhere between panic and pleading, or maybe want. 

You weren’t sure what game he was playing anymore, whether it was about testing your loyalty or if he just needed an excuse to fuck you. All you knew was that you knew exactly how you wanted this to end.

Without thinking further about how his smile tugged at just one corner of his lips as he waited for an answer, your legs shifted, parting slightly to give him more room. It was a silent offering of your body, a clear response to his needs or maybe it was really just your own. Either way, the truth was about to be revealed.

“You know I love you…” you whispered, your voice dropping low in a way you knew he liked. 

The words tumbled out before you could second-guess them. They were part truth, part survival. You couldn’t tell which one of them felt more real.

“Only you.”

Tenna raised a hand to the side of his screen, tilting it thoughtfully, as if genuinely weighing the truth behind your words. For a moment, he was silent, calculating the sincerity in your voice.

Then, his attention drifted downward. You were already like this for him: open, waiting, trembling for his touch. A perfect picture of surrender to him, born from long months of unsatisfied yearning and aching need.

Whatever illusion of restraint he’d been pretending to hold onto dissolved in an instant. The quiet calculation vanished from his face, replaced by something raw and possessive. The way you trembled, the way you offered yourself so easily to him, it unraveled him. He couldn’t contain himself anymore. 

Every breath, every flinch, every trembling muscle screamed the truth he’d always wanted to believe. You were his. Utterly, helplessly, his. And he reveled in the thought that as long as he had you like this, you were bound to do anything he desired. But still, he needed to hear it in words.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he braced both hands on either side of the podium, caging you in. “Tell me you love me.”

The words weren’t a plea, they were a demand, threaded with something volatile. A barely contained storm holding itself by a thin thread. If you didn’t satisfy him, not just his lust in that moment, but his deeper need to know you were truly his, that he wasn’t alone, that thread would snap. 

“I need to hear it,” he admitted, his breath trembling against your ear, as if he were fighting the urge to make you say it by force. “Say it… and maybe I’ll be gentle.”

“I love you,” you whispered, hoping the ache would soon be calmed.

“Yes,” Tenna growled, pulling his head back as if your words alone were enough to drive him wild. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear…”

In response to your compliance, Tenna shifted slightly, his hand moving away from the podium to press his cock against you. He didn’t rush. He was testing you, watching for the smallest shift in your body. Measuring every breath, every moan and every instinctive flinch against his size. Watching to see if you’d recoil or surrender completely.

“More,” he demanded, voice strained, struggling to push deeper, his size overwhelming you. “Say it. I need to hear you say it.”

“I love you,” you gasped, your body reacting as he struggled to press some inches in.

His pale throbbing cock slipped away every time, the control he tried to maintain unraveling with each attempt.

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth but strained, the usual playfulness replaced by an edge of concern. “I need you to stay still... please.”

There was a flicker of doubt behind his tone, a crack in his confidence. Like he was worried that he wasn’t enough. That he couldn’t give you what he thought you needed. 

But you knew it wasn’t your fault. Your anatomy and his simply weren’t made to fit perfectly. Especially when intense emotions like arousal hit him, his form grew bigger in every way, stretching past what you were used to. 

You didn’t care as much as Tenna did. In fact, you found yourself enjoying his struggle, the way he hesitated, testing your limits, playing with your entrance, his movements carrying a mix of frustration and growing desire... It was almost like a game, and you were savoring every moment of it. 

You almost had to hold back a laugh wondering how long it had been since he last had sex. Even though you knew it was more of an anatomy issue, it was hard not to find it funny, watching him struggle, trying so many different positions, desperately using whatever he could to adjust, just to make it work. His tongue was nearly dry from how much saliva he was using. Ugh, if only he had brought some lube…

His brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as he focused, clearly stuck in a loop, trying the same technique over and over without success. The playful confidence he usually wore on stage was gone, replaced by pure frustration. A low groan escaped him as he fought to push deeper, unable to fully enter. 

“Maybe if you shrink just a little?” you proposed, your face tilting, eyes searching his face for any sign of vulnerability.

You knew he couldn’t shrink back. Not in this state. But saying it gave you a small sense of control, a reminder of who was really in charge when it came to sex.

“I’ve got this,” he gritted his teeth, fighting to keep control as he caught the teasing look in your eyes. “Just… give me a fucking moment, sweetheart.”

You laughed, and that was it. He snapped, frustration flashing across his face as things didn’t go as planned, but that was exactly what he needed to get what he wanted.

He stood up for a moment, stepping away from the podium to give himself more room. His hands were now free, and you could feel the weight of his focus shift entirely onto you, and more specifically, your exposed skin. He adjusted his grip, holding you in place, pressing your cheeks apart to have more access to you. His actions were calculated, deliberate, and unsettling in their certainty.

“Yes, please, Tenna,” you begged, almost embarrassed at the way you had desperately pleaded for him as he touched you. 

Tenna couldn’t help but try harder after hearing your pleas. His grip tightened, and for a moment, it felt like there was nothing else but the need to bridge the gap between you. 

“I’m going to make you mine,” he muttered, almost to himself, his certainty radiating through every movement. “Whatever it takes.”

And then, he pushed into you, inch by inch with a slow, aching rhythm that didn’t satisfy so much as ignite, leaving you yearning for more with every drawn-out push.

A loud moan escaped his lips, almost as if he was relieved that he was some inches deep inside you, though there was still a long way to go. 

“You want... m-me?” he asked, voice low and uneven as he slowly pushed deeper.

You nodded, unable to answer due to the overwhelming sensation of his cock filling you. He was stretching you out with such an ease that surprised even him, as if your body had already decided to take him in. This was it. The reward he’d promised. And it felt so good that every moment of waiting had been worth it.

“Then say it, say how much you love me,” he whispered, his voice still thick with a different kind of need.

With a last slow thrust he was already deep inside you, leaning against the podium almost breathless. You tensed beneath the pressure, your breath catching as he pushed even further, unaware that his size had its limits on you.

“Ah— I… I love you,” you managed to gasp, the words trembling out of you, unsteady and breathless.

Your body was still adjusting, still trying to adapt to the full size of him.

“Again, sweetheart,” he demanded, his voice struggling to stay calm, but the desperation was unmistakable beneath the surface.

He wasn’t sure how much he would last, but he would make sure you enjoyed every last bit of it. And in the mean time, he would claim you in a way that felt permanent. After all, what mattered most to him was that you were already his, completely and without question. 

To prove this, one hand settled firmly over your restrained wrists, holding you in place as though you were something he intended to claim. The other one held the podium tightly to give him more stability as he moved against you slowly, each shift in pressure calculated to test you. Not just your body, but your desire for him, as if he were still unsure of how much you craved him. 

“Say it... my love,” he gasped, his movements growing faster each time you said those sweet words he craved more than anything. 

“I love aah—” you said, your words turning into a breathless moan before you could finish the sentence, your body responding to the force of each thrust.

The hand that held your restrained wrist moved to your back, lifting your shirt with urgency, his fingers pressing into your skin as he took in the sight of you, relishing in the vulnerability you couldn’t hide anymore.

“Yes…ah, m-my love,” he gasped between moans, his voice trembling with desperate need, no longer concerned with masking how you made him feel.

His breath came in uneven bursts, shaking against your neck as he fought to maintain the same pace. It was clear he was already close, the erratic movements of his hips betraying the intensity building within him. It was also obvious by how his hands gripped the podium, both to push himself deeper and to give him something to hold onto as he claimed you.

“Tenna...” you exhaled his name, barely able to catch your breath.

Each movement brought you closer to the edge, every sensation sharpening as it rose from the background, no longer ignored but felt in full all at once. 

The silk of his tie dragged across your bare skin with each thrust, the coolness of the fabric contrasting with the heat of your body. 

The wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours filled the silence of the stage, transforming it into something deeply intimate. 

Even the soft glow of the camera’s red light stirred something in you, the thought of watching this in the future sending a shiver down your spine. Maybe even with him…

His grip tightened on the podium, fingers digging into the wood as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded, even though he was already lost in you, completely drowning in the experience he had kept buried for so long. 

He hadn’t expected it to feel this good. No. Nothing in his fantasies came close. This wasn’t just pleasure… it was his purpose. You were his purpose. You were everything he’d ever craved, suffered for, and obsessed over. And now you were here, trembling for him like a desperate, whimpering mess, begging to him to fuck you like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

“Ahh, fuck!” he moaned through gritted teeth, past the point of sweet words, lost in the moment.

His movements grew sloppier, but he still took a firm hold of the podium as if his body wasn’t trembling with the weight of his own need to release. You could feel the shift in him, the way he fought to maintain composure, but it was clear he was losing that battle with each passing second he thrusted into you.

“Tenna,” you caught his attention, savoring the moment before speaking. “I love you.”

“Fuck o-oh….off,” he chuckled between moans, his voice laced with amusement, clearly enjoying the way you played with his desires, knowing exactly how to push him to the edge.

That sparked a surge of confidence in him. The way you toyed with control only made him want to remind you who was in charge. Who was the one fucking you, and who was the one tied up against the podium whimpering for his huge cock.

He rose, lifting himself off you and gripping your hips with brutal force, slamming your body against his cock with a strength that felt almost inhuman.

You would have given anything for your hands to be free, to dig your nails into the podium for something to hold onto. But instead, you were forced to press them into your palms, the pain almost forgotten as his forceful thrusts drowned everything else out.

Your body tightened in response, instinctively wrapping itself around Tenna, making it harder for him to maintain his confident pace, as if your every twitch pulled him deeper into the intensity of the moment.

“AaaAHhahahah,” he moaned, or maybe laughed. It was hard to tell, but it sounded like a melody to your ears. A reminder that, despite his efforts to claim control, you were still the one holding the reins, even if he wanted to believe otherwise.

Seeing how he was getting close, you tightened your body around his throbbing cock intentionally, clearly enjoying how he struggled to keep his legs steady. He wanted to tell you to stop, but instead, his words came out as strained moans, betraying his difficulty in holding himself together.

The way your body tightened around his cock, the sound of your breath catching with every thrust, the sight of you half naked and so completely his, it overwhelmed him, and he couldn’t stop himself.

He tried to pull out before it was too late but his warm cum shot inside you, and then slid to the rest of your body, following the rhythm of his last thrusts. 

Thick, white droplets shot out in your direction, splattering across your back. It clung to the small of your back and trailed down your body, coating your curves in a way that felt shamelessly erotic.

It was like his cock had a mind of its own, spreading and splashing with reckless abandon, leaving behind a trail of white and slightly embarrassing evidence.

His cock was still throbbing and some of the cum splattered across Tenna’s suit before he noticed it, leaving a trail of glossy white that contrasted against the red fabric.

What a mess. Even the edges of the podium were now covered in a slick film, a lot of white spurts that glistened in the light. A few droplets even hit the floor, bouncing softly before settling into a puddle of chaos.

You didn’t dare move at first, afraid some of it might touch the rest of your body. But curiosity got the better of you. You really wanted to see his face. So you turned carefully, avoiding the white puddle on the podium to get a better look at him.

But before you could even get a glimpse of the state he was in, he collapsed against you. His full weight pressed down on you now, making it genuinely hard to breathe.

“My… m-my… dear,” Tenna said between deep breaths. 

Each time he drew in air with whatever passed for lungs in him, it pressed you harder against the podium. 

“That was… amazing.”

“Tenna,” you cried, trying to push yourself up, but his body still weighed heavily on you, even as it began to shrink.

“My sweetest love,” he whispered tenderly, completely unaware of your struggle. 

He pulled you closer into his embrace, tightening his arms around you lovingly, making it even harder to breathe.

“Tenna!” you protested, surprised that you managed to lift him even slightly despite how heavy he felt.

“Oh!” Tenna quickly straightened up, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart… I didn’t realize.”

He rushed to untie the ropes, quickly turning you around as soon as they fell away. You stretched your arms, relief washing over you at the sudden freedom, only for Tenna to seize your hands before you could fully savor it, pressing them close to his face.

“I’m so in love with you,” he breathed, pressing soft kisses to your hands, nuzzling them against his narrow nose as if trying to drink in your scent. “You can’t even begin to imagine.”

“Me too…” you said, not sure if it was entirely true, but wanting to keep him in this gentle state, far from the edge of that darker side you feared.

Once he let you go, you slowly slid your hand around his waist, drawing yourself closer, unbothered by the lingering heat and the mess still clinging to your skin from the frantic intimacy you’d just shared. Tenna twitched slightly, a flicker of something like a glitch showing across his screen. Then, with a soft, lovesick sigh he wrapped his arms around you, clinging tight, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“My sweet… m-my sweetest, dearest little loving... sweet beatiful creature,” he blurted, the words tripping over each other like his heart couldn’t keep up with his mouth.

For a moment, it hit you just how close he’d come to short circuiting. His screen flickered intermittently, and you could see the faintest tendril of smoke curling from it. Despite everything, he remained functional, even tender. His fingers traced the line of your damp temple with care, a lazy smile tugging at his lips, softened by exhaustion.

“I’ll hold you and love you and squeeze you aaaaaaand…” he paused, pulling back just enough to see the face he adored, now glowing in the soft afterglow of sex,  “…you’ll be mine. Only mine. We’ll be happy and we’ll never fight again. We’ll be the couple everyone dreams of. Forever and ever. Together. Just you and me.”

Oh my fucking fuck.

I hope this is a joke, Tenna.

[patchw0rks]

Ok, reread of scum villain vol. 2 has been accomplished. Here are my thoughts and just things I wanted to note down (disclaimer: make sure to read these knowing the important context that liushen is my favorite ship lol)

I can't get over the Shen-Mu-Liu trio. Those are SQQ's BOYS and watching them interact is very fun. I also love that Mu Qingfang is medicine-pilled in the way that Shen Qingqiu is monster-pilled. Little did we know LQG is actually the most normal of the three

Shen "im just here to cause problems" Qingqiu saying "I know to get my way all i have to do is bat my pretty eyelashes at YQY and he will fold like a house of cards"

SQQ basically telling LQG that he's so strong so he must row the boat, and LQG is just absolutely FUMING because of how attracted he is to SQQ

SQQ referring to LQG as gege ah my heart

More of SQQ causing problems by trying stick Yang Yixuan onto LQG, which I love because you KNOW that in his grief post-Hua Yue City LQG went "fucking WATCH me"

Ngl I've read enough fanfic to realize that people don't really capture LQG's full personality. The usually make him so shy and tsundere that he's barely able to get a word in (Lan Zhan gets similar treatment) but no, he's just as catty as the rest of them

I need to figure out the timeline of how long Shen Yuan had been reading PIDW, it's endlessly important to me

LQG and MQF being like "our beloved little shixiong, please don't fret your pretty little head, just sit there and relax"

There really is some excellent physical comedy in SVSSS, like when SQQ is confronted by LBH and just defenestrates himself. You know that one scene in Angel Beats? Yeah it's exactly that

Qi Qingqi's eyebrows have now been brought up for a second time and it screams gender envy to me. Why are you as a "cis man" admiring a women's eyebrows so thoughtfully? So much to where it's the first thing you bring up about her appearance?

"Why?! Why were two grown men neurotically discussing a pice of clothing while surrounded by staring eyes?" never change Shen Yuan

I'm actually such a simp for Liu Qingge, i'm literally highlighting every mention of him and every word he speaks. I did not appreciate the Liuber my first time reading. He's also so incredibly tsundere "huff puff i can't believe you can't even ride your sword...get on"

Ugh I actually cried while reading the big confrontation. This did not happen my first read, but man it just got me. Also the very subtle POV switch that happens so we don't get any insight into SQQ's thoughts as he prepares to self-detonate

Mushroom Shen Qingqiu!!!! My Beloved!!!!!!! Def one of my favorite parts of the whole series. I think there are so many ways to play around with this character (hence my AU) but also there's this degree of freedom about it where even his internal dialogue is much more loose and less concerned with acting the part

Oh my...he referenced the succubus adventure...

Im sorry how did I completely black out the scene of LQG and SQQ playing hot potato with his corpse?!!?! Remember what I said about physical comedy!!

"Even a few hours ago, he genuinely wouldn't have cared where others (especially those of the same sex) touched him. They could touch wherever they liked, please go ahead" -- Things only said by straight who are 100% comfortable in their sexuality. Yeah. Totally

There are still good moments of seeing SQQ's dissociating himself from the events of the series and just treating everything and everyone as if it weren't "real," and how these thought patterns shift. Once again I think this would be a very fun thing to play around with and explore more

LIU QINGGE!!!! STOP MAKING ME SAD!!!!!!!! HE YEARNS SO MUCH

[ramp-it-up]

Girls Who Wear Glasses

The Cleo Era | Muse Masterlist

Summary: Ari gets your glasses dirty.

Word count: 1.6 K

Pairing: Art Curator! Ari Levinson x Plus sized model!Reader

A/N: Muse Monday on a Wednesday!!! I just got some new glasses and I... Well, this is the result. This is a part of the Muse vers, but can be read as a standalone. Enjoy! (And if you do, or if you don't, let me know!)

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Art Curator Ari. Plus sized model Reader, menace mommy Muse, Editor-in Chief Muse; brat Muse, dom Daddy Ari, glasses kink, rough oral (male receiving), cum play, the glasses get dirty, SIZE KINK, wall fucking, allusion to shower sex.

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

Editing the magazine confirmed two things: you were a stickler for detail, and you needed reading glasses.

At first, your vanity flinched.

Briefly.

Then the fashion brain kicked in.

Your editor Trixie had a field day.

She put out the call, and by week’s end, your desk was flooded with designer frames. They were all fire, but the ones that stopped your heart came with a note from Virgil himself.

Limited edition Louis Vuitton. Matte black wire with tortoiseshell tips: clean, sharp, and seductive.

You brought them home the second they arrived.

After riling Cleo up to crash-out levels, tickles, giggles, and a shared mango popsicle, you handed her off to Ari and slipped into the bedroom.

Off came your pencil skirt and heels.

On went his button-down, black lace panties, and thigh-high socks.

When you stepped out, the lights were low, and the nursery glowed gold.

Ari was in the rocking chair, humming something soft, holding Cleo against his chest. One hand curved over her tiny back, and she was nearly out, her face nuzzled into his shirt, and her breaths slowing into perfect little puffs.

He didn’t look up right away.

But when he did…

His eyes dragged over you from the socks, to the lace peeking out beneath the hem of his shirt, to the hint of breast and the chain he'd given you for your anniversary. And finally, to the slim LV frames perched on your nose.

“How do they look?” you asked, voice low and playful, wondering if he’d even register what you were talking about.

Ari didn’t even pretend to play it cool.

His gaze dragged back down, then up again, lingering where the shirt barely brushed the tops of your thighs.

“Fuckin’ edible,” he murmured, eyes hungry now.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

You tilted your head and smirked.

“I meant the glasses, Ari.”

That pulled his gaze back to your face. Finally.

He looked at your face properly, the realization finally settling behind his eyes. And then his mouth curled into that crooked, filthy little smile that made your stomach flutter.

“Well,” he rasped, his voice deeper now, “you look like a librarian I’d corrupt in a heartbeat. Like I’d bend you over the nearest table and fog those lenses up.”

You tried to keep a straight face and failed, then grinned as Cleo stirred in his arms. He adjusted her gently, without looking away from you.

“You like them?” you asked, more sincere now, lips parted, your cheeks warm.

“I love them,” he said, eyes darkening.

“But I’d love anything on your face.”

You let out a shocked little laugh.

“Ari...God, you’re filthy.”

“And still not done,” he murmured as he rose, holding Cleo close. 

He kissed her head, whispered something soft, and gently lowered her into the crib. He gave her one last glance to make sure she was out.

Then he turned toward you.

You were waiting in the doorway, leaning against the frame, glasses low on your nose, shirt open just enough to make him come closer. When he reached you, his mouth brushed your ear.

“Those little glasses make you look like you follow instructions,” he rasped.

“But that lace?” 

His fingers tugged at the hem of the shirt. 

“That tells me you don’t plan to.”

You bit your lip.

“That’s not what I meant…”

“I know what you meant,” he said, eyes dark and glittering. 

“And I gave you the truth. You’re my favorite problem. One I don’t want solved.”

You started backing out of the nursery as Ari followed you, eyes locked on yours and predatory.

“So,” you whispered, letting the shirt fall open completely. 

“You were saying?”

He moved even closer. One hand braced beside your head, the other gripped your jaw. His mouth hovered just above yours.

“I was saying,” he murmured, “you walked out here knowing I couldn’t touch you when I wanted to. And now you want me to be calm?”

His hand slipped inside the shirt, thumb roughly rubbing your nipple, leaving it aching, then dragging down your body to the waistband of your panties.

“Ari…” you breathed.

“You wore these,” he whispered, “knowing I’d lose my mind.”

“Maybe I wanted you to.”

“You look like you want to be ruined,” he growled, “with your hair wrapped around my fist and those pretty little frames sliding down your nose while I fuck that beautiful face.”

Your knees almost buckled.

“You’d mess up my glasses?”

“They’re cute,” he rasped.

“But I told you. I’d love anything on your face.”

You sank to your knees without a word.

He watched you the whole way down, his chest rising and falling harder now.

You adjusted your glasses and looked up at him like you were his dirtiest fantasy in thigh-highs and nothing else.

He swallowed hard, his knees weak from how gorgeous you were, but he didn’t say anything. He groaned and pulled himself from his sweats, already hard, wet, and aching.

“Open,” he whispered, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip.

You did. 

Your lips parted and your tongue stuck out as he slid his broad crown as deep into your mouth as it would go. Your hands gripped his thighs as you licked and sucked his girth.

You worked him slowly and sinfully, your tongue swirling, eyes locked on his, the glasses slipping with each glide of his hips.

You looked obscene like this.

Messy and beautiful, like your mouth was built to take him. Almost.

You were Ari’s Head Master, sweet, filthy, and fucking perfect.

He couldn’t last.

Not with you on your knees, glasses fogged, mouth slick and trying to swallow everything he gave you. He came with a growl, spilling his cum thickly across your tongue, your lips, your neck.

Your glasses caught the rest, little drops that painted them prettily.

Everything you couldn’t swallow dripped from your chin. And when you looked up at him, you looked like a filthy little angel.

“I just wanted to know if they looked good,” you said innocently.

“They look better dirty,” he said, voice rough, reaching down to pull you to your feet.

“But I plan to get them much dirtier.”

He dragged you up like he couldn’t stand being apart from you another second. Your knees barely had time to lock around his waist before your back hit the hallway wall.

Your glasses were crooked now. And your lips were still swollen from sucking him off. You were adorable.

Adorable and hot.

He reached up, adjusted your glasses, and then grinned.

“They stay on.”

Ari looked feral as he tugged the shirt down your arms, baring your breasts to the cool air and his hungry stare.

The sight earned you a delicious sound from deep in his throat. Then his mouth was on you.

His tongue swept inside your mouth, tasting himself on your lips, groaning when you moaned into him like you needed more. Your fingers gripped his hair because you needed something to hold on to.

His hands gripped under your thighs, lifting you without breaking the kiss. You hips ground down to where he was already hard again, dragging delicious friction through his sweats.

“You think I’m done with you?” he whispered, lips brushing yours. “Think I’m not gonna fuck you stupid against this wall?”

“God, Ari,” you gasped. “Yes. Yes, please.”

You kissed his neck, sucking just below his ear as you whispered, “I just wanted to know...”

He lined himself up and slid inside you in one thick, devastating thrust, the angle deep and sharp, making your head thunk softly against the wall as your mouth dropped open.

He was so damn thick.

Your body protested for a split second, then gladly lubricated and accepted him. You were gasping, helpless, and clutching his shoulders as he started to move with rough, controlled thrusts that hit the deepest part of you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Your glasses slipped; you didn’t care.

He growled against your throat.

“Look at me.”

You tried, but your eyes were half-lidded, mouth open, glasses fogging again as the heat built impossibly fast. He slipped his hand around your neck, his thumb tilting your jaw up.

“Look at me when I fuck you like this. I want to see those eyes. Want to see how wrecked you get behind those perfect little frames.”

The dirty glasses made it all hotter, messier, and more unbearable.

But Ari fucked you through it.

And you felt everything. The grind of his hips. The drag of his cock. The stretch, the ache, the overwhelming fullness. Your head fell back with a whimper as he slammed deeper.

“You look so goddamn pretty in these,” he panted.

“Riding my cock with fogged-up glasses like you were made for it. Taking it like the good little filthy girl you are.”

Your orgasm hit fast and brutal.

You clenched around him, nails digging into his back, body trembling as you reached for that peak. He fucked you deep and hard, all while kissing the air out of your lungs. He fucked you through every aftershock until you were shaking against the wall. 

Then he, hooked your knees around his arms and dug even deeper, pushing you over the edge again until your vision whited out, your cries muffled by his mouth. And when your pussy milked his cock again, glasses tilted, shirt hanging open, he lost it right behind you. 

He stayed buried inside you for a long, shuddering breath, holding you close, his forehead pressed to yours, hands gripping your ass in his huge paws.

“I ever see you in these glasses in public,” he whispered, “You better get someplace private. Fast. You understand me?”

You nodded, boneless and buzzing.

He kissed your cheek, let your legs slide down to the ground, and held you steady with one hand as he gently adjusted your frames again with the other.

“Still look perfect,” he murmured.

You smiled.

“Thanks for your review,” you whispered. 

“I have 28 other pairs at the office.”

Ari groaned.

Then he threw you over his shoulder, causing the glasses to fly off somewhere behind you as he headed toward the shower.

Because Ari absolutely wasn’t done with you.

[xandezsims]

L&D Trans Sim Tagging: EA Made an Oopsie

Xan here. Remember how I never got into Fullbody outfits, in the original Trans Sim tutorial? Well, I am honor-bound to get into it a little. Why? Because I made a discovery, and it's...not great.

TL;DR: The Part Flags for most of Life & Death are messed up. Trans Sims are wearing the wrong meshes and it cannot be avoided; EA has to fix it.

If this concerns you, please upvote the report, and spread the word. They have ignored the Sims community about gender-related glitches in the past. Help us make them fix this, so we don't have to.

In-depth explanation about the problem below.

I was stoked to see we got clothes for both frames in the newer packs. Finally, Sims can wear whatever gender clothing they want! That's the goal, right? But, recent testing made me wonder how they handle opposite-frames. I thought I could learn something to help with inclusive tagging. So, I stuck Carmen in a dress from L&D, and:

It passes from the front, but...her chest. That's the opposite gender distortion. The one caused by putting a AM (masc frame) mesh on any AF (female) Sim, trans or not. I've definitely talked about this.

I went and cloned both meshes to check the tags, and sure enough:

Quick tagging lesson: toggling Restrict Opposite Frame means Carmen can't wear the AF one. She has to wear the AM frame dress, because as a trans Sim, her frame is AM. (Literally, the Opposite Frame of her gender.) But because she has breasts, she inherits the chest distortion all female Sims get wearing a man's top. The same applies for Erik, her counterpart (AM w/AF frame).

With a sinking feeling, I went back to the game and tried...everything.

I ran out of space, there are more. Trans-men are the same. I got halfway through the AM catalog and ran out of willpower. I'm betting almost every item made for both frames in this pack is tagged wrong. It's locked by frame, instead of gender. With pants, that's not a problem--but tops, dresses and suits will all be swapped.

So, now we know Fullbody meshes work similarly to tops. They need to be locked by Gender. And it's really just that tag. To test, I went back to my cloned dresses, and fixed it with two clicks:

This means all women regardless of frame can use the AF, and all men can use the AM. And here's the result: AF dress on AF Sim, AM dress on AM Sim. They literally swapped dresses.

So, easily fixed! That's 2 files out of...all of them. (sigh) I filed a Bug Report, linked above. Hopefully the amount of evidence I provided will get an actual response. That, or they'll think I'm an arrogant prat for telling them how their game works. But, I didn't break it.

Moral of the Story: this is a great example of what not to do if you make cc, or if you retag what you download. Remember, if you want to limit who can wear a mesh:

"Restrict Opposite Gender" for Tops and Fullbody; this makes sure all AF and AM Sims wear their meshes, and don't end up with chest lumps.

"Restrict Opposite Gender" for AF Bottoms; Trans-AM Sims break in half. Don't Restrict AM Bottoms at all. They fit everyone.

Or, Don't Restrict Anything, if you want all options. Note: distortions will happen. Mark your gender filters. They help a lot.

Earrings, Hats, Makeup, Gloves, Socks, Tights work for everyone

Necklaces and Nails are "Restrict Opposite Frame"; Trans Sims can't wear these from their own gender. They don't fit.

If you got this far, thank you for sticking it out. My innocent question turned into a tagging lesson (again). But, if it helps anyone in the future, I'll be glad. At least now we know there's a problem.

Please boost the Bug Report, share if you found it useful, and thanks for reading. I'm on the soap box again re: trans inclusion, but it's still Pride and I can't not stand up for my people. The more we know, the better we can do on our side.

Finally, tagging some folks who might want to know, if they don't already (feel free to ignore): @sejianismodding @the-crypt-o-club @yooniesim @whyhellosims @thefoxburyinstitute @sims4tutorials @mmfinds @gncc