#Tips for CA Preparation

[ultimateca]

CA Foundation - Jan 2025 PRE-EXAM Marathons Economics by CA Mohnish Vora (MVSIR)

👉 Live on18 Jan at 7.00 PM 📚 Macro Economics - Top 200 MCQs 👨🏻‍🎓 Specially selected by MVSIR 📍 https://www.youtube.com/live/V1hlV_efqT8?si=IPFWfaROELMIOjyH

👉 Live on19 Jan at 9.00 AM 📚 Micro Economics 👨🏻‍🎓 Important Topics Revision 📍 https://www.youtube.com/live/kQdTV_cGVlA?si=ScRmzIav0ztMQCNn

👉 Live on 20 Jan at 9.00 AM 📚 Economics 👨🏻‍🎓 LAST MINUTE MCQs 📍https://www.youtube.com/live/RvOQn08eS8M?si=P1Mw2eT5hBZQVaYx . . 😎 Links of all Revision & MCQ sessions taken earlier- https://telegram.me/camvsir/3899 😎 Links of latest MTP discussion & PDFs- https://telegram.me/camvsir/3927

[caexamblog]

CA Final Result and Exam Pattern: A Comprehensive Guide

The Chartered Accountancy (CA) course is one of the most prestigious and challenging qualifications in the field of finance and accounting. Among its stages, the CA Final examination stands out as the ultimate test of a candidate’s knowledge and determination. In this blog, we will explore the CA Final result and the CA exam pattern, offering insights and tips for aspirants. Let’s delve deeper into what makes this examination crucial and how to navigate it successfully.

Overview of the CA Final Examination

The CA Final is the concluding stage in the Chartered Accountancy course conducted by the Institute of Chartered Accountants of India (ICAI). Clearing this examination is a prerequisite for becoming a certified Chartered Accountant. The CA Final examination consists of two groups, each with four papers, covering a broad range of topics essential for professional expertise.

Understanding the CA exam pattern is vital for effective preparation. Here’s an outline:

Group I Papers:

Financial Reporting

Strategic Financial Management

Advanced Auditing and Professional Ethics

Corporate and Economic Laws

Group II Papers: 5. Strategic Cost Management and Performance Evaluation 6. Elective Paper (e.g., Risk Management, Financial Services, International Taxation) 7. Direct Tax Laws and International Taxation 8. Indirect Tax Laws

Each paper carries 100 marks, and the total duration of the exam is 3 hours per paper. The CA exam pattern also includes a mix of objective and descriptive questions, testing both conceptual clarity and practical application.

How to Check the CA Final Result

The CA Final result is eagerly awaited by candidates as it determines their eligibility to become Chartered Accountants. Here’s how you can check your result:

Visit the Official ICAI Website: Navigate to the results section on the ICAI portal.

Enter Your Details: Provide your roll number, registration number, or PIN.

Submit and View Result: Click on the 'Submit' button to access your result.

Download and Print: Save the result for future reference.

Candidates can also receive their results via SMS or email by registering their details in advance on the ICAI website.

Decoding the CA Final Result

The CA Final result provides key details such as:

Candidate Information: Name, roll number, and registration details.

Subject-Wise Marks: Marks obtained in each paper.

Group Status: Whether Group I, Group II, or both have been cleared.

Overall Pass Percentage: Candidates must secure a minimum of 40% in each paper and 50% aggregate in a group to pass.

A merit list is also published for candidates achieving exceptional performance, listing the top 50 rank holders nationwide.

Importance of the CA Final Result

The CA Final result plays a pivotal role in shaping a candidate’s career in accounting and finance. Here’s why it matters:

Professional Certification: Passing the CA Final examination qualifies you for ICAI membership, enabling you to use the prestigious ‘CA’ prefix.

Career Advancement: The result opens doors to diverse roles in audit, taxation, finance, and consultancy.

Recognition: It reflects years of dedication and hard work, earning respect within the industry.

Detailed Insights into the CA Exam Pattern

A thorough understanding of the CA exam pattern can significantly enhance your preparation. Let’s look at some critical aspects:

Types of Questions:

Objective questions assess basic understanding and application skills.

Descriptive questions test in-depth knowledge and analytical abilities.

Marking Scheme:

Each paper has a maximum of 100 marks.

Candidates must achieve at least 40% in individual papers and an aggregate of 50% in a group.

Elective Paper Flexibility:

Group II includes an elective paper, allowing candidates to choose a subject aligned with their interests or career goals.

Negative Marking:

No negative marking applies to objective questions, encouraging candidates to attempt all questions.

Pass Percentage Trends in CA Final Results

The CA Final exam is known for its challenging nature, reflected in the pass percentages:

May 2023 Attempt:

Group I: 12.42%

Group II: 15.23%

November 2022 Attempt:

Group I: 11.09%

Group II: 14.67%

These figures highlight the dedication required to succeed in the CA Final exam but also emphasize the prestige associated with clearing it.

Preparing for the CA Final Examination

Effective preparation is key to succeeding in the CA Final exam. Here are some tips:

Understand the Exam Pattern: Familiarize yourself with the CA exam pattern to strategize your studies.

Create a Study Plan: Allocate time for each subject based on its weightage and your comfort level.

Practice Mock Tests: Solve past papers and mock tests to build confidence and improve time management.

Join Study Groups: Collaborative learning can provide diverse perspectives and keep you motivated.

What to Do After Receiving the CA Final Result

The next steps after the CA Final result depend on your performance. Here’s a guide:

If You Passed:

Register for ICAI Membership: Complete the formalities to become a Chartered Accountant.

Explore Career Options: Choose between industry roles, independent practice, or further studies.

Upskill: Consider additional certifications like CFA, CPA, or advanced courses in taxation and finance.

If You Did Not Clear:

Analyze Your Marks: Identify areas for improvement based on your result.

Seek Guidance: Join coaching or seek mentorship to strengthen weak subjects.

Reattempt Strategically: Use the insights from your previous attempt to prepare effectively.

Debunking Myths About CA Final Results and Exam Pattern

"The Number of Attempts Matters": While clearing in fewer attempts is ideal, your professional growth depends on skills and experience.

"Only Top Rankers Succeed": Success in the CA profession is driven by continuous learning and adaptability.

"Low Scores Mean Poor Career Prospects": Many accomplished Chartered Accountants have modest scores but excelled in their fields.

Inspiring Stories of Resilience

Several successful Chartered Accountants have overcome challenges during their CA journey. Their stories remind us that perseverance, not just the CA Final result, defines success.

Conclusion

The CA Final result and the CA exam pattern are integral to the journey of becoming a Chartered Accountant. While the result marks a milestone, understanding the exam pattern can help candidates prepare better and achieve their goals. Remember, success in the CA field is not solely about passing exams but also about continuous growth and learning.

Best wishes to all aspiring Chartered Accountants on their journey to excellence!

[sturnioz]

‘ESPRESSO’ — MATT STURNIOLO

pairing. matt sturniolo x fem!reader genre. coffee shop au, first time au, fluff, smut

word count. 11.5k

❝I'm just happy I finally know your name... we've been calling you Espresso since your first few days of coming in❞

content warnings. explicit content, porn with heavy plot, loss of virginity (female), protected sex, soft sex, light nipple sucking, oral (female receiving), fingering, lots of kissing, mentions of nerves and anxiety, mentions of big dicks, mentions of stretching out.

"...And then he told me that he's not ready for a relationship, can you believe that? He's been treating me like his girlfriend for the past three months, we cuddle in the same bed almost every night, and he takes me out to dinner. I swear, men are just—"

You tune out the rest of the customers rant, letting the noise blur into the background as you focus on the task at hand, turning the nozzle on the coffee machine and carefully guiding the milk-filled pitcher under the steam wand. Your hand rests lightly on the cool metallic surface, waiting for the milk to warm to the perfect temperature.

Maya, your co-worker, stands beside you, leaning casually against the counter as she checks her watch for the third time in the past minute, her expression filled with boredom. When she catches your gaze, she quirks a small, kind smile your way, and you return it—brief but warm—before refocusing on your task.

Days like this are all too familiar, blending in together into an endless loop: wake up at 6am, clock in at the café around 7, overhear customers sharing their personal dramas (completely oblivious to how loud they're actually being), clean up after them, lock up at closing, and head back to your apartment to do it all over again the next morning.

You can't decide if it's comforting in a way, or just another reminder that you live what feels like a really fucking boring life. But the decent pay and the co-workers—Maya especially—make it hard to complain too much.

You detach the steam wand from the pitcher and reach for a cup, pumping three shots of vanilla syrup. You're just about to pour the heated milk when a sharp snap of fingers and an irritatingly loud whistle cuts through the air.

"Excuse me," you slowly turn to face the customer, resisting the urge to react to her dog-like call as she waves a manicured hand in your direction, her freshly painted French tips pointing at the cup in your hand. "I asked for five pumps of vanilla syrup—Five. And don't forget the extra caramel drizzle this time."

It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. Instead, you force a tight-lipped smile, nodding as you turn your back, adding the extra vanilla syrup and making a show of counting to five.

You proceed to pour the steamed milk into the cup, followed by the needed espresso shots, and you finish it off with an extra drizzle of caramel sauce. Once the lid is secured and the cup sleeve is slid into place, you push the drink across the counter toward her.

She doesn't so much as glance at you as she places her card on the reader, snatches the drink, and strides out the door. You exhale sharply through your nose, shaking your head as a scowl tugs at your lips, but nonetheless, you press your tongue to the inside of your cheek and clean your station, wiping down the counter and preparing for the next customer.

Another day, another latte, another fucking difficult customer.

"If she whistled at me like a dog, I would've leaped over the counter and bitten her like one," Maya mutters beside you, and a genuine smile spreads across your face as you feel her arm wrap snugly around your middle, giving you a comforting squeeze. "I'll spit in her drink next time. Really. Just say the word, and I will do it."

You stifle a quiet laugh, amused by her threat. "As much as I would love that..." you turn your head to meet her gaze. "...I'd rather you not get fired."

Maya grins, her arms slipping away from your waist as she teases, "Who says I'd get caught? Nobody has to know."

You nudge her shoulder playfully, and she chuckles before turning her attention to the next customer. Meanwhile, you shift your focus to your own customer standing at the counter, greeting them with a warm smile as you take their order and punch the details into the tablet screen.

You're in the middle of plating up the cinnamon bun they ordered when the soft chime of the door bell catches your attention, and out of habit, you glance toward the door, your eyes landing on someone fairly new: a guy with tousled brown hair, partially hidden beneath a low baseball cap.

The brim of the cap and the hood of his oversized black jacket obscure his face, but you can still make out a few details—sharp cheekbones, and a hint of stubble along his jaw.

His outfit is simple: a white shirt and baggy denim jeans, paired with black boots that match his oversized jacket.

It's the kind of comfortable look you envy... you wish you could trade your uniform for something like that right now.

Not wanting to linger on him for too long, you finish up the order for the paying customer with a polite nod, and she thanks you kindly which prompts you into wishing her a wonderful day, earning a sweet smile in return.

As she walks away, your gaze instinctively shifts back to the guy, now standing in front of the counter. He's too preoccupied with his phone to notice he's next in line, his thumbs moving rapidly across the screen.

"Can I take your order?"

"Huh? Oh—yeah, m'sorry," he mumbles, coughing lightly to clear his throat. His eyes stay fixed on his phone as he continues typing something, his voice distracted. "Can I have three iced americanos please?"

"Coming right up." you reply quietly, turning away to start the drinks. Maya steps in beside you, having finished her previous orders to offer a lending hand, and within moments, the iced drinks are ready.

Just as you place them on the counter and prepare to give him the total, he suddenly mutters under his breath, "You've got to be fuckin' playin' with me."

The irritation in his voice makes you freeze for a second, assuming his comment was directed at you. You hesitate before asking cautiously, "What?"

He looks up, startled by your response, and once he realises his mistake, he scrambles to explain. "Wait—no, shit. I uh... I wasn't talkin' to you, I was just..."

For the first time, he raises his head fully, and you can't help but try to get a better look at him. But even now, the brim of his cap and the hood of his jacket cast shadows over most of his face.

Still, you know he's staring at you—silent, unmoving—just by the weight of his gaze.

Feeling a bit shy under his gaze, you blink and glance away, fumbling to fill the silence as you press gently, "Just...?" 

He snaps out of his trance, the words tumbling out in an awkward ramble. "I uh—I lost a bet with my brothers, and now I have to buy 'em drinks. I thought they'd just want whatever, but um... they're makin' it difficult 'cos they both want different drinks..."

"Oh," you respond, blinking awkwardly as you glance down at the iced americanos you've already prepared. "Well, alright... I can just make you the new—"

"No!" he interrupts, his voice sharp enough to make you pause. "Fuck—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout—these drinks are fine. Really. I'll take them. They're just idiots, probably doin' this shit on purpose or somethin', I don't know."

His exasperation pulls a light laugh out of you before you can stop yourself, and the sound seems to catch him off guard, his lips parting slightly in surprise.

After a moment, he cracks a breathy laugh of his own, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as though he's embarrassed to have made you laugh.

When you finally give him the price, he retrieves a sleek black card from his wallet and taps it on the reader, and for a second, your professional demeanour falters. He looks you, definitely younger than you'd expect from someone carrying a black card.

A flicker of curiosity passes through your mind, but you push it aside.

It's not your business, after all.

As he adjusts his hold on the cup holders, he hesitates before looking at you again. "Thanks..." his voice trails off as his gaze drops to your nametag. He reads your name softly, so quietly you almost miss it. "I'll see you tomorrow."

And he does.

In fact, the days blur into weeks as he becomes a familiar presence at the café. Almost every day, he walks in and orders three drinks—sometimes iced americanos, sometimes a mix of different flavours.

With each visit, he greets you with a warm hello and dives into his usual ramblings about his brothers. His stories are always laced with fond adoration as he recounts whatever they all get up to, and through him, you've become a bit familiar with their personalities, even if you don't know exactly what it is they do.

Despite his frequent visits, he remains a mystery. You still haven't caught a proper glimpse of his full face, obscured by the cap and hood, nor have you learned his name yet.

On some days, after picking up his drinks, he settles at a specific table near the back of the café, close to the window. From his chosen spot, he seems to watch you, though he tries to appear nonchalant about it.

When you glance over, you occasionally catch the subtle twitch of his lips—like he’s trying not to smile but can’t quite help himself.

Normally, this type of odd behaviour from a customer might alarm you. But there's something about him that keeps you from feeling uneasy. If anything, you find yourself always looking forward to seeing him and wondering if he's watching you.

And, though you hate to admit it, you enjoy the attention from this stranger a lot.

"Espresso's late today," Maya remarks, her tone light as she wipes down the counter, frowning slightly at the coffee she spilled earlier.

Espresso—the nickname Maya came up with for the mystery guy—immediately grabs your attention, and you pause mid-swipe with your mop, glancing over your shoulder to survey the café.

It's quiet today, and only a few tables are occupied: a couple engrossed in their conversation, a college student hunched over a textbook, and an older woman savouring her coffee and cake.

"Maybe he's not coming," you suggest, turning back to the floor as you scrub the stubborn coffee stains. "He could be busy."

Maya straightens, tossing the damp cloth into the sink before crossing her arms, deep in thought. Her lips purse briefly before she turns her gaze to you. "Do you think he's famous or something?"

You raise an eyebrow at her out of nowhere assumption. "What makes you think that?"

She rolls her eyes, as if the answer is painfully obvious, and begins counting her reasons on her fingers. "He covers his face constantly, he won't tell you his name, he always pulls up in a blacked-out windowed car—"

"Wait, how do you know about the car?" Maya shrugs nonchalantly. "I'm attentive, okay? I notice these things. Anyways, he never says what he does, and he owns a black card. All these clued add up. Celebrity."

As she finishes her mini-investigation, you hum thoughtfully and set the mop aside, washing your hands at the sink before returning. "Do you actually care if he's famous?"

"Not really. I'm just nosy. Uncovering the secrets of suspicious people makes me feel like I'm in some kind of mystery film. It's fun."

Her words make you smile, and soon she’s off on a rant, proudly sharing her latest theories about some crime show she’s been currently recently. She tells you her predictions, and she even brags about guessing the culprit before the reveal, and you listen, amused.

But your attention is abruptly pulled elsewhere when the familiar chime of the doorbell echoes through the café.

Your gaze instinctively shifts to the entrance, and there he is—Espresso.

He steps inside, dressed in his usual style: a black hoodie, baggy denim jeans, and the black balenciaga cap pulled low over his face. Tufts of dark hair peek out from beneath the cap, and, as always, the brim and hood keeps his identity hidden.

A smile slides across your lips as he approaches, and you greet him warmly. "Hey, you're late today."

But your smile falters when you don't get the same warmth in return.

“Yeah, sorry.” he murmurs softly, his voice drawling with weariness. He doesn't raise his head to look at you, instead he shifts his focus to his wallet which he pulls out of his pocket. “Can I just get a hot chocolate, please?” 

“Getting bored of the other drinks already?” you tease lightly, trying your best to engage him in conversation. But the attempt fails. He doesn't respond the way you had hoped, he just quietly taps his card against the machine and walks toward his usual table without another word.

You watch him go, a faint uneasy feeling settling in your chest. Maya catches your eye, and her puzzled expression mirrors your own. You shrug, unsure what to say as you turn to prepare the drink.

Once his hot chocolate is ready, you hesitate for a moment before deciding to do something small to—hopefully—brighten his day. Grabbing a plate, you carefully add a slice of cake, promising Maya with a quick whisper that you'll cover the cost later.

She raises an eyebrow at you but doesn't argue, and you can feel her gaze on your back as you make your way over to his table.

"Here you go," you say softly, setting the drink and plate down in front of him.

He reaches for the hot chocolate but pauses, his hand hovering mid-air as his eyes land on the slice of cake. "I... I didn't order—"

"I know," you interrupt, your tone gentle. "It's on me. You seem like you're having an off day, so..."

For a moment, he doesn't say anything. He just stares at the cake, as if he's trying to decide how to respond. Then, he slowly tilts his head back to look up at you, and you catch the slight parting of his lips before they curve into a sheepish smile.

"That's really sweet of you... thank you." his voice is softer than you expected, and it makes your heart do an unexpected little flip.

"No worries," you reply, shaking your head lightly to brush off his gratitude. "I hope you enjoy—"

"Do you, uh, think you can sit down with me?" his question catches you completely off guard, and your words falter mid sentence. Your mouth hangs open slightly as you process his request, and he quickly adds. "If you can, obviously. If you're busy, I get it. That's fine... but if you're not... that would be fine too."

You glance around at the café, taking in the calm and quiet atmosphere. It's not busy at all—just a handful of customers scattered at their tables. When your gaze shifts to Maya, you find her already watching you, gesturing animatedly as she encourages you to take the invitation.

She even redirects your boss, who's just emerged from the back, sending them back into the office with a distraction.

Collecting your thoughts, you respond. "I can sit with you for a couple of minutes."

His shoulders visibly relax at your answer as you grab a chair and slide into the seat across from him, tucking yourself beneath the small table. You're about to ask if he's okay, if he'd like to talk about his clearly hard day, when his next action leaves you completely speechless.

Without a word, he pulls down his hood and tugs off his cap, running his fingers through his hair. and all you can do is stare, your breath catching in your throat.

His face is... gorgeous.

Messy strands of slightly grown-out hair frame his features. Strong cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and those eyes—bright and piercing. He's even more attractive than you imagined, and the realisation sends your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, warmth spreading across your face.

"My name is Matt, by the way," he says, breaking the silence as he picks up the mug of hot chocolate and takes a small sip. Matt. The name repeats in your mind, and you can't help but think how fitting it feels for him. "M'sorry for not introducin' myself before. I wasn't trying to be, like, rude or anythin'... I just can't do that sometimes."

You blink, trying to gather your thoughts, but it's hard to form a coherent response when all you can think about is how his voice fits him as well as his name. But then, his last words replay in your head, tugging at your curiosity.

Your eyebrows knit together as confusion settles in, "You can't do that?"

Matt's expression shifts, surprise flicking around his face as his gaze meets yours. "Do... do you not know me?" You stare at him, unsure of what he means, your silence prompting him to quickly clarify. "I'm not being narcissistic, I swear. I'm a youtuber—content creator, whatever you wanna call it. I just... I get nervous about being recognised, s'all."

"Oh." you hum softly in understanding. Maya's earlier theory about him being someone famous suddenly clicks into place, and you can't help but mentally applaud her for her observational skills. Slowly, you nod before continuing, "That makes sense. But it's fine—you're fine. I'm just happy I finally know your name... we've been calling you Espresso since your first few days of coming in."

Matt's expression softens, his lips curving into a gentle smile. "You talk about me?"

The question catches you off guard, and you swallow thickly, suddenly embarrassed. "I didn't say that."

His smile grows and hums in response, staring at you over the rim of his cup as he takes another sip of his drink, the action slow and deliberate. The weight of his gaze makes your heart stutter, and you quickly avert your eyes, shifting your focus elsewhere in an attempt to push away the flustered feeling rising in your chest.

Don't act like this, you scold yourself silently. You need to stop being weird. He's just a regular guy.

But deep down, you know that's not entirely true. There's something about Matt—his easy smile, the way he seems both shy and confident at the same time—that makes you feel things you can't quite name.

Your fingers fidget against the edge of the table, and a quiet thought sneaks its way into your mind, one you try desperately to ignore.

You don't have a crush on Matt already.

Of course you don't.

There's no way.

Right?

You decide to steer the conversation in a different direction, leaning back in your chair in an attempt to appear as casual as possible. "So, what's wrong? Why do you seem so tired today?"

"Just constantly busy, and I, uh... got into an argument with my brothers. It was over something so stupid, but I think it got to me 'cos I'm so tired," Matt explains to you, and you instantly feel a pang of sympathy for him. "But it's fine. I know everything will be back to normal tomorrow."

"You should've stayed home and gotten some rest instead of coming here," you chastise lightly, your tone soft enough to show you're not actually upset with his decision.

"I like it here too much," Matt counters, shaking his head as he picks up the fork provided with the cake. He cuts a piece from the corner, bringing it to his mouth, and his next works are barely audible—almost as if he didn't mean for you to hear them. "I like seein' you."

Oh.

The quiet confession catches you by surprise, and you feel the familiar warmth of flusteredness creeping up your neck. Your hand instinctively rises to rub your jaw, a weak attempt to hide the shy smile tugging at your lips.

You can't help but feel baffled by how easily Matt seems to jump between awkwardness and boldness, leaving you unsure how to respond in moments like this. Does he have any idea what his words do to you?

You glance at him briefly, watching as he nonchalantly cuts another piece of cake. He hums softly in approval of the taste, seemingly enjoying it, and you shake your head with an airy laugh, catching his attention.

His gaze shifts toward you, gesturing to the cake. "Have you tried it before?"

"Not yet," you admit, a smile gracing your lips. "It's a homemade recipe. One of my co-workers made it," The image of the little old lady in her flour-covered apron and frosting-smeared cheeks comes to mind. "She loves to bake."

Matt nods thoughtfully, and then cuts another piece of cake. Instead of handing you the fork though, he keeps it in his grip, extending his arm toward you. "Here, try it."

Your eyes widen at the gesture, surprise and hesitance flooding through you. Time feels like it pauses for a moment as you process what's happening, and your gaze meets his across the table, noticing the way his teeth nibble on his bottom lip.

His expression is genuine though, and there's a slight vulnerability in the offer that makes your heart skip a beat.

After a moment, you decide to give in. Leaning forward, your hand gently wraps around his to steady the fork, and you feel him freeze at the contact, but he doesn't pull away. Slowly, you open your mouth to accept the bite, ready to taste the flavour.

But before you can indulge, the moment is abruptly shattered by the loud call of your name.

Startled, you pull back, breaking the connection before the two of you, and Matt lowers the fork quickly, his hand retreating as if the interruption had startled him just as much.

Standing at the counter, your boss watches with his arms folded over his chest, a look of amusement dancing across his features. Maya stands just behind him, her expression apologetic for ruining your moment.

"What're you doing?" your boss asks, one eyebrow raised. His tone is teasing, though it's firm enough to remind you you're on the clock. "Stop flirting with your boyfriend, kid. You're on work hours."

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to come up with a response, but nothing comes out. Embarrassment washes over you like a tidal wave, and you completely forget you're with Matt as you stand up abruptly, rushing over to your boss and all but shove him into the backroom.

"Hey—what—" he starts, but you cut him off with a rapid string of apologies for pushing him, laced with muttered curse words for his earlier assumption about yours and Matt's relationship.

"I wasn't flirting—and he's not my boyfriend! Why would you say that?!" you hiss under your breath, mortification burning hot. You groan, pressing your palms to your face as you spiral into a ramble. "Oh my god. That was embarrassing. I can't believe you said that. What do I do now? I can't—"

Your anxious rambling is cut off by your boss' deep, amused laugh. "He was feedin' you. What else was I supposed to think?"

From the side, Maya nods with an exaggerated agreement. "That was such a boyfriend move..."

Your boss places a hand on your shoulder, his expression softening slightly. "Look, I am sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. But maybe next time, don't let it happen during work hours, yeah? I already let you two get away with too much—"

"Well that's a fucking lie," Maya cuts in, her brows knitting together as she glares at him. Your boss snorts but doesn't respond, walking back out to the front with a shake of his head. Once he's gone, Maya steps closer to you with an apologetic look. "I tried to distract him for as long as I could, but he caught on pretty quick. At least it seemed like you and Espresso were getting along well?"

"His name is Matt," you tell her as you lower your hands from your cheeks. Her eyebrows shoot up, but before she can say anything, you groan again, pressing your fingers to your temples and rubbing in slow circles. "I'm so embarrassed. I'm gonna have to quit and, like, move away or something."

"Hey, being dramatic is my job," Maya teases as she pinches your arm lightly. "But you got his name though, that's progress."

You hesitate for a moment before adding, "I.. saw his face too."

Maya's eyes widen, her curiosity peaked. "You did? I couldn't see—he looked away and pulled up his hood right after your name was called..." she pauses, narrowing her eyes at you with a knowing smirk. "So? Was he hot?"

You meet her gaze, dead serious. "You have no idea."

After a few minutes of calming yourself down, you finally gather the courage to return to the front of the café, but when you glance toward Matt's table, your heart sinks.

It's empty.

The sight of the vacant chair and cleared space stirs an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You assume he must've left after your boss' comment, feeling awkward and embarrassed. And really, you can't blame him. If the roles were reserved, you'd probably book it out of here as fast as you could too.

You try to shake it off, forcing yourself to focus on work. You clean up the tables, preparing the café for closing, but you deliberately leave Matt's table for last. You know it's silly—prolonging it won't change anything—but you can't help it.

When you finally approach the table, you swallow thickly, frowning as you take in the empty cup and plate. You pick them up and place them on your tray, but as you move, something catches your eye.

A napkin, crumpled slightly from hiding beneath the plate.

You set the tray down and reach for it, your heart starting to race as you unfold it. Scrawled across the napkin in slightly messy handwriting are the words that instantly bring a smile to your face:

𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 (555) 555-555 - 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍/𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈/’𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽’

You ended up calling him when you got home from work that day. At first, you were nervous, your thumb hovering over the call button for longer than you'd like to ever admit.

And before you knew it, those phone calls became an important part of your routine. Almost every night, you'd find yourself laughing until your sides hurt, smiling until your cheeks were sore, and discovering little pieces of Matt you'd never known before.

He told you even more about his family—especially his brothers with their inside jokes—and he shared stories about his Youtube career: his struggles with burnout, and the moments that made it all worth it.

And in turn, you opened up to him too.

You told him everything.

To avoid causing any more trouble with your boss, Matt started visiting you during your breaks instead of sitting at a table on your shift, keeping you company whenever you both had a free moment in your schedules.

It didn't take long for him to become a familiar face around the café either. Your co-workers grew fond of him quite quickly, and the old lady baker immediately adored him when he kindly complimented her on her delicious recipes—and she even allowed him to taste-test her newest ones before anyone else.

You started to notice how comfortable Matt was becoming with you over time, especially when it came to physical touch.

At first, it was subtle—the way his shoulder would brush against yours when he sat close, or how his leg would press lightly to yours under the table.

Then, those small touches grew bolder.

His fingers would linger on your arm as he talked, tracing patterns on your skin, and occasionally his hand would graze yours, but neither of you would pull away.

It took you a while to get used to it, but something about Matt made it so easy to accept. His touches felt natural, like they belonged there, and a part of you started to crave them in ways you didn't fully understand.

Then, one afternoon, everything changed.

Matt had offered to drive you home after your shift, something he'd started doing more often as your 'friendship' deepened. This time though, it felt different. So different. There was tension, not uncomfortable, but charged with something unspoken.

When he pulled up in front of your house and walked you to your doorstep, he made the first move. His hands came up to cradle your cheeks as his lips pressed against yours, soft and warm.

It happened sooner than you expected, but it felt so right—so natural.

From that moment on, kisses became a regular part of your time together. Whether it was when he drove you home from work or when you sneaked away for 'fresh air' during your breaks, his lips always seemed to find yours.

Sometimes it was quick—a stolen kiss.

Other times, it was slower—lingering, like he wanted to savour the moment just as much as you did.

And you found yourself falling for him, bit by bit, with every laugh, every touch, and every kiss.

"So, he's not your boyfriend?" Maya's voice cuts through the whirring of the coffee machine, her tone filled with disbelief as she looks over at you.

"No, he's not," you shake your head as you carefully pour the espresso into a cup.

"But you kiss all the time, and he comes to visit you here almost every single day," Maya points out, her brows knitting together as she watches you add steamed milk and froth to finish the cappuccino.

It's a valid point, one that you've thought over many—many—times.

"Yeah," you hum, steadying the cup. "But he hasn't asked me out officially, y'know?"

Maya blinks, clearly perplexed. "Why can't you ask him then?"

You pause, staring at her like she's just suggested something completely outrageous. "Me?"

"Yeah, you."

The idea of taking the initiative and asking Matt to be your boyfriend sends a wave of panic rolling through you, and you shake your head quickly. "No. No way. I can't do that. I don't even know how to do that."

Maya blinks slower, processing your response. "You just... ask."

You scoff, incredulous. "Absolutely not. I've never done anything like that before, and I'm way too awkward to start now. What if it makes me look desperate? Or what if the timing is all wrong?" you spin around to face her, completely mortified as you mutter, "What if he rejects me?"

"Okay, now you're just overthinking everything," Maya sighs, grabbing a cup and lazily filling it with ice cubes. "Look, you just need to—"

"Excuse me!"

The sharp screech of an impatient customer cuts through the air, making both of you flinch. You quickly turn around, guilt already bubbling in your chest.

"I understand you have boy problems," the woman snaps, glaring at you, "but I'm in a rush. Can you hurry it up?"

Your eyes widen as the realisation starts to hit—you've turned into one of those people. The ones who talk too loudly about their personal problems, oblivious to the world around them.

Oh fuck.

You apologise profusely as you rush to finish the customers order, handing it over with a sheepish grin. She huffs, pays, and storms off, leaving you to groan and press the heel of your palm into your eyes.

"Don't worry about it too much." Maya says, trying to reassure you, and you appreciate the attempt to calm your spiralling thoughts of the day.

You sigh, nodding slowly, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as you grab a rag to clean the counter, trying to refocus.

Maya, however, isn't done. "Matt's supposed to be visiting you on break, right? Just talk to him then. See where his head's at with all this... it's clear that he likes you as much as you like him."

You nod again, this time a little more solemnly. Deep down, you know she's right, but the thought of having that conversation still makes you stomach churn with nerves.

Forcing a polite smile onto your face, you get back to serving your customers. You try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling brewing, but it lingers, making your shift stretch on longer than usual.

It doesn't help that it seems to be one of those days either—the kind where couples seem to flood the café, all smiley and giggly, holding hands and sharing kisses.

Internally, you scowl. You know it's not fair to be so bitter about their happiness, but it's hard to stop yourself from feeling like the universe is rubbing it so carelessly in your face.

You grit your teeth as another couple approaches the counter, all lovey dovey as they order matching drinks. Seriously? .... For real? You can't help but think they're all doing this on purpose.

You know they aren't though. It's not their fault you're so frustrated and insecure. It's not their fault you're stuck in this weird position with Matt, unsure of where you stand.

They're in love—and they have every right to show it off to the world.

As the day drags on and on, you try your best to push aside the negatives thoughts swirling in your mind by focussing on your job, moving from task to task, hoping to make time fly by.

The wait isn't easy—you hate it—but you keep reassuring yourself that everything will be alright.

But, as your break finally arrives, that too familiar feeling of unease settles in your chest once again.

You find yourself sitting alone in the backroom, ten minutes into your fifteen-minute break. Your phone is sandwiched between your cheek and shoulder as you listen to Matt's voice on the other end of the call.

Your thumb instinctively finds its way to your mouth, and you bite down on your nail—a habit you've been trying to get a hold on.

“There’s been a change of plans," Matt says, his words filled with regret. "I don’t think I can come visit you right now—everythin’ is, like, super crazy and…” his voice trails off as he continues explaining, but the words blend together in the background of your mind.

He's not coming.

That feeling in your chest intensifies, and the uncomfortable churning in your stomach grows worse.

“I’m really sorry.” he says, soft and sincere.

“No, it’s fine. I get it,” you whisper, your tone a little on the vulnerable side. You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone, and you quickly add. “Seriously, it’s fine. I promise. It just… sucks, I guess.”

“I know, baby,” Matt mutters quietly, his own sadness seeping through.

The unexpected affectionate name catches you off guard, but it brings you slight comfort. Warmth spreads across your face, and despite everything, you smile to yourself shyly.

There’s some rustling on his end, and you hear him adjust the phone before his voice comes through more clearly. “I can see you later, though. I can… come over to your place, if you want.”

"My place?" you repeat, your eyes widening slightly as you sit up straighter. "You want to come over to my place?"

"Well, yeah, I mean—" he clears his throat, trying to sound more casual than he feels. "I have to film a video with my brothers and we won't be done until late, and I still really want to see you. We can have a date at yours or somethin'? I'll bring food or whatever on my way there. I'd offer you to come to mine, but—"

"My place is good," you cut him off, nodding to yourself as if to confirm it. "That's great, actually."

"Yeah?" you hear the smile in his voice, and it brings one to your own face as you hum softly in agreement. "Alright... I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay." you reply giddily.

You'd be completely lying to yourself if you said you didn't want the clock obsessively for the rest of your shift—counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until you could finally head home.

Spoiler: it didn't magically speed up. The numbers on the clock barely moved every time you checked.

But thankfully, after spilling the details of your plans to Maya, she offered to handle the closing-up duties so you could leave early.

At first, you protested. You didn't want to leave her to do everything alone, but her reassurance—and her reminded that she owed you for covering one of her shifts last week—finally convinced you to accept.

You couldn't say no after that.

As soon as you step out of the café, your mind starts racing with thoughts about Matt's visit. You pick up the pace, practically speed walking to the nearest store to grab some last minute treats—a box of desserts and a pack of beers—and the grocery bag bumps against your leg with each hurried step.

When you finally make it home, you waste no time in kicking off your shoes and heading straight to the kitchen to stash the desserts and beers into the fridge before taking a moment to take in your apartment.

It's not messy, but it's... definitely lived in.

The couch cushions are out of place, a throw blanket is draped over an armchair. There's a few books stacked on the side table, and your empty coffee mug still sits on the corner of the counter where you left it this morning.

You sigh, rolling up your sleeves as you get to work tidying up. You fluff the cushions, fold the blanket neatly, and wash your coffee mug and place it back in the cupboard.

Once everything looks presentable, you dart off to the bathroom to shower, eager to scrub away the sweat and lingering smell of coffee from your shift. You stand beneath the spray and lather up with vanilla scented soap before giving your hair a thorough wash—you even exfoliate—mentally checking off every step as you go.

But when you're back in your room, standing in front of your closet with a towel wrapped around your body, you freeze.

What the fuck are you supposed to wear?

Your eyes scan the rows of clothes, but nothing seems right. Is this a proper date, or just a casual hangout? You've never been in this situation before, and it's impossible to guess the right vibe to match. You don't want to be overdressed and make it awkward, but you also don't want to look like you didn't try.

"I need your help," you blurt into the phone urgently and desperately, deciding to call the best person you know that can handle this type of situation. "Bad. I need your help bad."

There's a pause before Maya's laughter comes through the line, "What are you freaking out about now?"

"I—" you hesitate, gripping the phone tighter as your eyes dart back to your closet, pushing through the hangers for the tenth time. "I have no idea what to wear. I don't know if this is a date. I've never been on a date, so I don't know what people even wear to one."

You let out a frustrated sigh, slumping back onto your heels.

"I don't want it to look like I tried too hard, but I also don't want it to look like I just rolled out of bed and don't give a fuck—"

"Hey," Maya interrupts sharply, calling out your name. "Chill out."

You immediately fall silent, clutching the phone to your ear as you wait for her words of wisdom.

"Let me break it down for you," she begins, "Matt's coming over to your place after hanging out with his brothers, right?"

"Yeah..." you reply cautiously, narrowing your eyes at a skirt in your closet that suddenly feels too much.

"So," she continues. "Do you really think he's going to show up wearing, like, a suit and tie? A button-up and chinos? No. At best, he's showing up in sweatpants and a sweater. Maybe jeans."

You purse your lips, thinking that over. "So... what do I wear then?"

"God. You're hopeless." Maya teases with a loud, dramatic sigh. "Wear something comfortable. Something cute and casual. You have clothes like that, okay? I've seen them."

You nod as if she can see you. "Cute and casual," you repeat. "Okay, yeah, I can do that. That's fine. Thank yo—"

"Wait," Maya cuts in before you can hang up. "One more thing: wear matching lingerie. That red lacy set we bought last weekend? That one."

You freeze, eyebrows furrowing as her words settle in. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you glare at it for a second before returning it to your face. "Why the hell would I need to wear that?"

"Just in case," Maya responds matter-of-factly. "You know... just in case."

"Oh," you say dumbly, blinking as the realisation hits you. "I mean... doesn't have to happen right away, does it? Like—it's not expected or anything, right?"

"Of course not" Maya answers instantly to reassure you. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. But if the mood is right, at least you'll be prepared. Trust me."

After hanging up, you toss your phone onto the bed and take a moment to collect yourself. Maya's advice repeats in your head as you pull open your dresser drawer, digging out the red lingerie set. It's still neatly folded in the box it came in—the tags still attached.

You hesitate for a moment, then shrug to yourself. At least you'll be prepared. Once you've slipped into the lingerie, you pull on your favourite shirt and jeans—soft, well worn, and flattering in all the right ways. You take a step back to check your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out the fabric over your hips.

A touch of mascara, a swipe of lip gloss, a hint of blush and highlighter, and a quick spritz of perfume completes the look.

You're double checking your outfit and makeup when a knock beats on the front door, and your stomach flips. You abruptly move, nearly knocking over the vanity chair in your rush as you smooth out your shirt for the hundredth time, sock covered feet padding across the floorboards as you make your way to the front door.

With a deep breath, you unlock the door and swing it open, and instantly, any lingering anxiety melts away. There Matt stands, his signature black cap pulled low over messy hair, dressed in an oversized sweater and denim jeans.

He smiles at you—a soft, lopsided grin—before shuffling inside after you step aside, his sneakers scuffing lightly against the floor as he toes them off.

You open your mouth to speak, to welcome him into your home, but the words catch in the back of your throat as Matt doesn't even give you a chance. He drops the takeout bag to the floor with a soft thud, and his ringed fingers wrap gently around your wrist, tugging you closer.

A giddy smile spreads across your face as his cold palms cup the warmth of your cheeks, his gaze softening as his lips brush against yours—gentle and so sweet.

He exhales a deep sigh of contentment when you kiss him back, and your hands reach to grip the soft fabric of his sweater to pull him close. But Matt doesn't linger long on your lips, instead, he pulls back just enough to trail quick, playful kisses across your cheeks, nose, and forehead.

Each kiss lands with an over exaggerated smooch, and you can't help the laughter that bubbles up from your chest.

"Matt," you try to speak between giggles. "Stop, you're—"

"No," he murmurs, pressing another smacking kiss to your lips. "Missed you too much... sorry I couldn't come earlier."

You smile softly, your heart swelling as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your hands still resting on his chest. Gently, you shake your head. "You're here now, right?"

Matt's grin widens, and he bends down to pick up the takeout bag from the floor, straightening up before stepping further into your home.

His gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the details—the mismatched furniture, the framed photos on the walls, the soft glow of string lights draped across the windows, and the potted plants perched on the sills.

You shift your weight nervously, watching him take it all in with a flicker of self-consciousness, especially when his eyes linger on the shelf filled with books and little trinkets that probably look a bit chaotic to anyone but you.

"This is a nice place," he says finally, his voice warm and sincere as his eyes meet yours again. "Cosy."

"Thank you," you reply with a soft laugh, swaying lightly on the balls of your feet. "I would've invited you in sooner, but... it never seemed like the right time."

"That's okay," Matt says with a casual shrug. Then, he raises the takeout bag between you, giving it a little shake. "Hungry?"

As if on cue, your stomach growls loudly, causing you to sheepishly smile. "Starving."

It doesn't take long before the two of you settle comfortably on the couch, the food spread out on the coffee table in front of you. A movie plays on the TV—something you both agreed on watching—but as the minutes pass, it becomes background noise.

Matt's attention drifts to you, and soon he's asking about your day—showing genuine interest, listening to you talk as you recount the small details of your daily routine. He even teases you, his grin widening as he asks if you've spilled any more drinks during your shift.

You did that once—maybe twice.

He never lets you forget it. When the conversation shifts and it's your turn to ask him about his day, Matt's expression brightens. The way his eyes light up as he talks about filming with his brothers and brainstorming new ideas makes your chest ache in the best day, and you listen attentively as he rambles, soaking in the passion behind his words.

But then, his tone dips slightly, and he mentions feeling mentally drained—exhausted, even. The confession is so subtle, but it sticks with you as you remind him to take breaks and to focus more on his mental health, but he waves a hand dismissively, brushing off your worry.

You're about to push further, but before you can, Matt reaches for his phone, his energy shifting again as he tells you he wants to show you what he and his brothers have been doing and planning.

He scoots close, the warmth of his shoulder pressing against yours as he pulls up the photos and videos on his camera roll, explaining every detail behind each one. But your ears perk up when another voice cuts through in one of the videos Matt plays, a familiar one that belongs to one of his brothers.

"What are you doin'?" Chris' voice asks, and a second later, he comically slides into frame, his bright blue eyes staring directly into the camera lens, one brow raised in suspicion.

"Filmin' the sunset," Matt mumbles, the camera shaking slightly as Chris steps closer. "Dude, what're you—"

"Is this for your girlfriend?" Chris interrupts, practically shoving his face into view as he wiggles his eyebrows dramatically.

"Yeah," Matt huffs, trying to push Chris out of the shot. "Move."

"Take a video of me. I'm the view now."

"What? No," Matt snaps, scoffing. The camera lowers slightly, but not before you catch Nick in the background, fake gaggling loudly as a muttered, "You're fuckin' insane. Get away—" from Matt is the last thing you hear before the video cuts off.

As the video ends, you find yourself frozen, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Slowly, your eyes drift from the phone to Matt's face. He's smiling at you—so softly, so fucking prettily—clearly waiting for your thoughts on the videos he just shared.

But your mind is stuck on one thing.

"Girlfriend?" The word slips out before you can stop it, your voice quiet, almost hesitant. "Do... do you call me your girlfriend in front of your brothers?"

"Yeah," he says without hesitation, his eyebrows pulling together in slight confusion. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You never asked," you whisper. You glance down, suddenly feeling embarrassed under his gaze. "I mean... it was never really talked about. We didn't put a label on anything."

Matt lets out a light laugh, scratching the back of his neck as if he's realising it for the first time.

"I kinda assumed we were together," he tells you. "I mean, I don't really see someone almost every day, kiss them, drive them home, and just call them a 'friend'," his cheeks grow a little flushed. "Like, I'd only do that with someone who's my girl."

You can't fight the smile that breaks across your face, and Matt notices it too, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin in a way that makes your heart flutter.

"Guess I should've asked though, hm?" he murmurs, his voice dropping to a softer tone as his thumb gently brushes over your bottom lip. His eyes lock with yours, tilting his head to the side. "Made it official?" he then leans in, his breath warm against your face. "Will you be my girlfriend? Or... is it too late?"

"Never too late."

Matt grins, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that feels softer and sweeter than any before. His touch is so gentle, and you can't help but exhale deeply as you melt into him.

Kissing Matt is one thing, but kissing Matt who is your boyfriend? That was something else entirely. It feels new—exciting.

But then, as his hand dips beneath your shirt, his palm pressing lightly against the bare skin of your waist, something feels… different. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s unfamiliar, and you find yourself pulling back slightly, your breathing ragged as you meet his gaze with an embarrassed, sheepish grin.

"You alright?" Matt asks immediately, concern etched into his expression. His thumb brushes over your hip, his touch grounding and gentle.

"No—yeah, yes. Everything is fine—great," you ramble with a nervous laugh, trying to collect yourself under Matt's worried gaze. His brow furrows as you scramble to explain yourself, but you decide to surrender and tell him the truth as your shoulders slump. "This is all new to me. I've never had this."

Matt blinks, then tilts his head, raising a brow. "Had a boyfriend?"

"No—well yeah, but," you shake your head with a small laugh and a shy smile. "I'm talking about sex... I've never done that before. I've never, like... been interested, you know?"

"Oh," he mumbles softly, pulling his hand carefully out from beneath your shirt. "Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No!" you rush to cut him off, your hands curling around his wrists to stop him. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, if that's what you're wondering," you exhale shakily, trying your best to put your feelings into words. "I've never been interested in it before, but with you... I am."

Matt’s eyes widen slightly, his expression shifting to something almost unreadable—surprised, maybe even a little emotional. His hands find their way back to your hips, his grip gentle but grounding as his thumbs brush against your sides.

"Really?" he asks softly.

You nod, your heart beating faster. You want him to understand that this is all new territory for you, but it's something that you want to share with him—to give a part of yourself to someone who truly likes you just as much as you like him.

Matt studies you for a moment, his gaze darting across your face as if he's memorising all your little details. His eyes linger on your lips, noticing how they part slightly, how your tongue nervously darts out to wet your bottom lip.

"Relax," he murmurs, his voice trying to soothe you as he inches closer. "You're tremblin'."

"I'm nervous," you admit in a whisper.

"It's alright," he reassures you as his fingers gently tilt your chin up, his touch featherlight as he strokes your bottom lip. "I got you. We'll go slow."

"Slow," you echo, nodding. "Slow is good."

A soft smile tugs at Matt's lips as he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead first, then your nose, before finally dipping down to press his lips to yours once again. Your eyes flutter shut as you melt into his touch, feeling the way his mouth moves against yours.

When you part your lips, a soft gasp escapes you as Matt deepens the kiss, his tongue flattening against yours as it enters your mouth, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You press your hand to his chest again, right over his hammering heartbeat as your fingers curl into the fabric of his sweater.

Matt breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he mumbles, "Where's your room?"

Your throat suddenly feels dry, and it takes a moment to gather yourself as you swallow hard, your voice coming out a little hoarse. "Down the hall, first door on the left."

Matt nods, kissing your lips one last time before he rises from the couch, pulling you up with him. His fingers intertwine with yours, his grip firm as the two of you move quietly down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps soft on the wooden flooring.

When you step into the room, Matt's eyes sweep over the space briefly before settling back on you. He doesn't rush you or push you, instead, he just takes a step closer, brushing his knuckles over your cheekbone as his eyes search yours, silently asking for permission.

You give him a short nod, and in an instant, his lips mould with yours in a deep, but slow kiss. You kiss him back timidly, looping your arms around his shoulders for your fingers to curl at the hairs on the nape of his neck, while he wraps his around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. 

He blindly walks you backwards, the backs of your knees hitting the edge of the bed and you drop down, causing Matt to follow closely behind. He straddles you, knees on each side of your hips, keeping his lips locked on yours as his hands trail down your body, his fingers lightly gripping the hem of your shirt. 

The kiss breaks for him to gently pull your shirt over your head, and his eyes—blown out and wide—stare down at your chest, all prettied up in the red, lacy bra you put on earlier. He lets out a long, drawn out shaky exhale, rubbing his thumb across the material as his eyes flit up to yours. 

“Beautiful,” he compliments, and you immediately grow shy and flustered, unable to properly meet his gaze as he chuckles softly, sliding his hands beneath your back to reach for the clasp. 

Your brows raise in surprise at how quick and easy it is for him to unclasp your bra, and the lacy falls from your skin, baring your naked chest to his gaze. He gives you a gentle smile, giving your lips a loving kiss before moving downwards, sucking a trail of hickeys from your neck, to your collarbones, down to your breasts. 

Matt cups the plumpy skin in his palms, squeezing softly while his lips wrap around your nipple. You gasp softly at the sensation, feeling the nub harden in his mouth as he licks and suckles. He gives attention to your other nipple too, and your back arches at the touch, breath stuttering as you tilt your head back against the pillows.

However, your breathing grows ragged with nerves as he starts moving south again, almost choking when he gets to your legs. The nerves start to creep back into your system as you watch him unbutton your jeans while he keeps his eyes on yours, giving you a reassuring smile as he pulls the material down your jeans, pressing open mouth kisses to the skin that he reveals. 

Your first instinct is to pull away when you become aware of how extremely close he is to your damp panties—not used to someone being so up close and personal to such an intimate place—but he soothingly strokes your thighs in hopes to relax you, massaging his fingers into the plush skin. 

"Matt," you murmur anxiously as you feel his nose against your panties as he inhales deeply, letting out a soft sound at the intoxicating scent of your obvious arousal. 

Your face heats up in embarrassment at the sight of him between your thighs, and you fidget, hips shifting against the bed sheets as he hooks his fingers beneath the lace, pulling them down your legs to join your other clothes on the floor—leaving you naked and vulnerable. 

"You still want to do this?" Matt asks you, pressing open mouth kisses to your thighs as he eyes the glistening folds of your pussy before his gaze drifts up your body, drinking you in. He meets your eyes, laying another kiss on your skin. "We can stop. It’s your choice." 

You’re quiet for a moment, unable to think properly over the loud sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears. You’re nervous, of course. You’ve never experienced something like this before—something so intimate and raw. Nobody has been this close to you, and nobody has ever touched you the way he’s been currently doing. 

But you want this. 

You do want this. 

You want this with him. 

"Please keep going." you confirm, and in that moment, you feel his warm breath caress your skin as he leans closer, his mouth pressing over your clit. 

Your body tenses up at the foreign sensation, and your thighs almost close in around his head in an attempt to push him away, but the feeling of his tongue slowly wedging between your wet folds, gently lapping over your slit, makes you crumble. 

You’re unable to put how you feel into words as your body slumps on the bed, lips parting with short, airy gasps as you stare up at the ceiling, your fingers twisting in your bedsheets. Matt’s mouth remains latched onto you, alternating between tender kitten licks and suckles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

It’s difficult for you to think straight—so fucking difficult that all you can do is just lay there and take it. 

Matt curls his arms around your thighs, moaning softly into your cunt and you gasp at the vibrations. You don’t know what your body is doing, but it moves as if it’s on autopilot, rolling against his face as that knot in your stomach tightens, and tightens, and tightens.

"That’s it," he murmurs between your folds. "Keep movin’. You’re gettin’ close." 

"H-how can you tell?" you ask him breathlessly. 

Matt smiles, peering up at you through hooded lids, "I can feel it, baby. You're leakin' so much around my tongue." 

You whine pathetically at that, and your eyes roll back and your neck strains as Matt’s tongue dips inside of you—the pressure and pleasure becoming too much for your inexperienced body to handle that you can’t help but release whatever tension coils up in your stomach.

Matt hums in approval, squeezing your thighs in a reassuring manner as he laps up your essence, delicately helping you ride out your orgasm with tentative licks. Once Matt finally lets up, you feel yourself grow limp, trying your hardest to catch your breath as you watch him move up your body through hazy vision. 

"Good job," he praises you lightly, stroking your cheek with a tender touch. “You did so well." 

All you can muster is a tired, sheepish smile, melting against his touch for a moment until it’s moved away too quickly for your liking. You can feel a whine of protest bubbling up in your throat, but you manage to keep it at bay as you watch Matt lean back on his knees, bunching his sweater in his hands before he pulls it over his head, throwing it carelessly to the side. 

You take this moment to admire him with the best of your ability: his messy hair hangs just above his eyes, his lips puffy and wet—glistening with your arousal. His body is slim, and you have the sudden urge to run your hands up his tummy and over his chest to curl your fingers around the silver necklace that dangles from his neck, but you’re caught off guard by the sound of metal clanging, and you glance down to see his hands working open his belt.

Matt rids himself of his jeans quite quickly, leaving him in just his boxers. The sight of his cock straining against the white material of his Calvin Klein's has your stomach whirling, and you begin to worry if something of that size will even fit inside of you.

You do avert your eyes when his fingers grip the waistband of his boxers to pull them off, although you can’t look away for too long. You’re curious, and curiosity definitely kills the cat because when you see his cock—big, heavy, laying against his tummy up to his belly button—you know you’re in trouble. 

That’s not going to fit. 

Silence consumes you, your mouth dry and nerves shot. All you can do is watch him lean off the bed to reach for his jeans on the ground, digging his hand into the pockets to retrieve a small silver packet. He tears it open with his teeth with ease, throwing the empty packet onto your nightstand before pinching the tip of the condom to roll it onto his cock, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

"Did—" you try to find your voice, coughing to clear your throat when it comes out a little rough. "Did you expect this to happen? You were prepared?"

"I didn’t expect it," Matt tells you, his tone filled with honesty and sincerity as he adjusts the rubber, making sure that it was fitted securely. "But it’s always good to be prepared, right?"

Maya’s words from the phone call earlier linger in your mind; ‘it’s good to be prepared, just in case’. You didn’t realise how much that actually applied, and all you can do is dumbly nod your head in response as Matt shuffles forward on his knees, prying your thighs further apart. 

You twitch when you feel his fingers gently graze over your sensitive pussy, using his thumbs to pull at your folds, revealing your leaky hole to his gaze. You definitely look away now—trying to not think about how exposed you are to him, literally. 

"M’gonna have to stretch you out a little," Matt tells you, and you want to question what he means by that until you wince at the stretch of his finger pushing through the tightness of your entrance, causing tears to bubble in your eyes. "Sorry, baby. It’s okay, s’okay—breathe."

You tense up when Matt adds another one of his fingers, trying your best to focus on his soothing voice when he tells you to relax, and he stills, his fingers still buried deep inside of you as his other hand massages your thigh in gentle motions.

You wriggle, finding it difficult to adjust to the stretch of his fingers as he carefully pumps in and out of your pussy, scissoring them against your gummy walls that makes your thighs twitch and close around his wrist. He continues to quietly praise you throughout, even pressing his thumb to your clit to rub, the pleasurable sensation of your clit getting attention causing you to relax just a bit. 

“There we go,” he coos, nodding his head as he watches you. “Relax.” 

The wet sounds filling the room is dirty, and you’re embarrassed to know that it’s coming from you. You are wet, and you’re definitely turned on despite being such a nervous wreck, but you didn’t realise you’re this wet. 

Matt seems to be fine with it, which makes you feel a little bit better. 

It’s normal.

It’s natural.

It’s fine.

You’re unsure on how long Matt has been fingering you for, but you assume it was enough to have you stretched out as he pulls his fingers away from your pussy, surprisingly licking them clean as he hovers above you. 

You reach to grab his shoulders while he touches himself, rubbing his cock up and down your sticky folds to lather up your arousal. Matt stares at you, tilting his head to the side as he drinks in your expression. 

“You ready?” He presses his tip to your entrance as he aligns himself. Anxiety and nerves courses through your veins, knowing what was about to come, but you’re more than ready—ready to have him in any way you possibly can. 

“I’m ready.”

With that, he presses himself into you, slow and steady. The gentleness doesn’t stop you from crying out, your nails digging into his shoulder blades, creating indents in his skin as your cunt and thighs burn from your pressure. 

The pain and discomfort is intense, and it hurts much more than you anticipated—the unfamiliar sensation being stretched out and filled making you wince. Matt pauses his hips to give you time to adjust to his size, wrapping his arms around you and kissing away the tears that pool down your cheeks. 

“You’re doin’ great, sweetheart,” he attempts to soothe you, his body locked as he glances down to where you’re both barely connected. Only the tip of his cock is nestled inside your opening, and he nibbles down on his bottom lip, knowing this was going to be trickier. “You’re okay, I promise.”

The burn intensifies as Matt begins to inch deeper in, each movement jolts of hot pain through your tender flesh. You have never felt like this in your life, but you’re happy to feel the searing pain gradually give way to a dull ache, which soon turns into a strange, tingling sensation as his hips rock carefully into you. 

His steady rhythm and soothing caresses help calm your nerves, and you can feel every ridge and vein of Matt’s cock rub against your tender walls. His hands roam your body, kneading the fat of your hips, stroking up your stomach and breasts, brushing his fingers across your cheeks to wipe away the tears. 

Each touch relaxes you further and further, drawing you into the experience, and you’re finally able to wrap your legs around Matt’s waist loosely, feeling him roll his hips deeper against yours. The friction between you both causes you to feel a little stuffy, skin clammy with sweat, but you still refuse to loosen your grip on him—keeping him as close to you as possible. 

“Look at you… you’re doin’ so well for me,” Matt continues to praise you with each thrust, his breathing laboured. 

You let out a quiet moan, it echoing throughout the room, and the sound of giving in makes Matt press his lips to yours, swallowing the rest of your moans as his cock and tongue work together in motion.

You feel so dizzy, head cloudy and empty as he rocks against you, his pelvis rubbing against your poor clit, the friction making your pussy quiver around him, earning a throaty groan from him, the sound rumbling against your lips. 

Breaking the kiss, Matt trails his move along the column of your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh as he continues to thrust, and you arch into him a little, your nails lightly raking down his back as you tilt your head to give him better access. 

His tongue darts out to lap at the pulse point in your throat before he kisses and nibbles his way back up to your ear, his voice low and strained as he murmurs, “M’gettin’ close,” his hips stuttering in their rhythm as he fights to maintain his control. “Not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Your body tenses, a whiney noise escaping as the sensations swell up inside you, the familiar feeling of the knot in your stomach forming until you can no longer contain yourself. Your inner muscles clench around Matt’s cock, rhythmically squeezing around him as your second orgasm crashes over you abruptly. 

At the same moment, Matt's control shatters, and with a grunt, he buries himself to the hilt inside your cunt and trembles, spilling into the condom with long, hot spurts. His hips stutter, making you wince and mewl at the feeling, but once both of your tremors subside, Matt lays on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. 

It’s hot, and you’re still all sticky and clammy—definitely more than before—but you don’t care, not when Matt nuzzles his face into the crevice of your neck, his lips brushing against your damp skin as he catches his breath. 

After a while, he carefully extracts himself from you, pulling out of your wet cunt, and you hiss at the feeling, thighs pressing together to close as Matt stands from the bed. He pulls the condom off, careful not to spill any of his cum across your carpet as he walks into your bathroom to discard it in the trash. 

He comes back seconds later, climbing into the bed beside you, pulling you close to cradle you against his body. You immediately nestle into his embrace, your cheek laying on his chest and peering up at him as his hand lazily drifts across your back, alternating between rubbing and drawing random patterns. 

“Was that okay?” Matt asks you, his voice soft and quiet. 

You smile shyly and nod your head in response, draping your arms around his waist to pull him even closer as his head drops down to place a kiss atop of yours, squeezing you tenderly.

It was perfect.

© STURNIOZ

[mysterymachine67]

PAIRING -> Castiel x M!reader

SUMMARY -> Cas giving you a blowjob for the first time.

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

This was unfamiliar. Something he thought he’d never be doing. Being an angel didn’t mean being down on your knees in front of the man you love. But hey, he was willing to try. He wanted to, has been wanting to. Just never told you or mentioned it till now.

So now, Castiel’s on his knees in front of you. Staring down your dick. Your hand rose and cupped the side of his face. Watching as his gaze switched to your eyes instead. You were patient, understanding that this was his first time giving someone a blowjob. Anyway, he finally, but slowly, kitten licked at your tip. Once. Testing the waters before doing it again. You let out a shuddering breath, watching very closely as he got more comfortable. Soon he was taking your tip into his mouth. Sloooowly moving his eyes to look up at you. “There you go,” you cooed. And God, your heart raced and you had to rip your eyes off of him because if you didn’t you’d end up doing something other than guide him gently.

Letting out yet another breath, you decided to look back down, see how he’s doing rather than feel it. Cas was doing great. Adding more inches into his mouth the more comfortable and hornier he got. Tasting you on his tongue was something he couldn’t get enough of. He didn’t know he could be so addicted to something that was so unfamiliar.

Cas got a little too greedy and took too much of you, which resulted in him gagging and pulling back. But not all the way till you weren’t in his mouth anymore, he still wanted to taste you. “Careful, baby. Take your time, you’re doing wonderful.” He tried to nod but it didn’t work out to well. You still understood either way. This time, he was more prepared. Taking more of you and just before he gaged he swallowed. Tears prickled in his eyes but he blinked them away. Soon pulling back and beginning to bob his head. His hands came up to your inner thighs, stabilizing himself. You decided to move your other hand that wasn’t already on his face, to his head. Not grabbing or pulling yet. “Doin’ so good. Y’sure this is your first time?” You winced, in a good way, not bad way. Cock twitching in his mouth because your imagination decided to run loose, and think of Cas in a complete different position. He hummed, which made your hips buck up slightly. “Jesus—“ Castiel furrowed his eyebrows at that. He brushed it off, continuing to move his head. Though sometimes he’d stop to suck and to flick his tongue. You let out noises. A few moans ‘n grunts here and there. But when you seemed to let out way more than usual, and move your hips more often, he noticed. Course he did.

You must be close.

And you were. You didn’t want to rush him on, though. Just hoping that he’d notice and do something more. Which he did. Thank God. You let out a groan, your hand on his head pushing down instinctively. He looked up at you again, maybe for some validation or something. But when his eyes made contact with yours, that was the cherry on top. With a grunt you came down his throat. Hips stuttering. ‘N he swallowed everything you gave him. Pulling off once you were satisfied. Cas sat back on his knees, looking up at you once again.

“I want more.”

[conchcronch]

My Turn

WC: 2816

Pairing: Spite x Fem!Rook

Summary: Lucanis accidentally fell asleep which leads Spite to take over when you come to spend the evening together.

Warnings: a little bit DUB CON but it gets cleared up towards the end.

A/N: PLEASE send me prompts for Lucanis and Spite x Rook, I’m obsessed.

The lack of a moon and stars in the Fade had unsettled you since your first night at the Lighthouse. The sky was lit as though there were some sort of light source but you could never find one as you walked from the main building out to the farthest room at the end of the courtyard. What had originally been your dining hall had been taken over by the Crow, feeling most at comfort in the dank pantry, not something you could fully understand but you also had no intention of questioning it more then you already had.

The door was unlocked, the fire lit in between the two wolf statues. Your partner was not leaning against the mantle as you had expected, but the flickering of candles through the pantry/bedroom door quickly hinted at where he likely was. You noticed freshly brewed coffee, two mugs set out, anticipating your arrival. You cleared the distance from the door to the counter in the small, dark kitchen. Taking your time prepping the coffee, leaving his black so he could taste the flavor notes of this particular blend, but pouring a decent amount of milk in your mug, the thought of leaving yours black made you grimace.

With mugs of coffee in hand you walked past the fireplace, the warmth wrapping around your legs making the cold of the back bedroom all the more jarring. His back was to you, the candle light flickering, distorting his shadow as it danced across the wall. “I brought you coffee, it might be a little cold, but I can warm it up if you want.” You took a quick sip of yours as you held his outstretched, his back still to you.

“Not now” a wave of his hand made you cock an eyebrow but put the mug down on a small shelf nevertheless. You leaned your back against the sturdy oak shelving, sipping your coffee as you tried to output enough fire magic from your palm to warm the ceramic mug rather then ignite it. The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable despite being slightly out of character for him. Ever since the blighted dragon attacked Tarviso he had been different, the sight of such a beast in a town that he and his family were fighting so hard to save must have proved to him just how delicate it really was.

His weight shifted from foot to foot, his hand under his chin, toying with his beard as he so often did when deep in thought. “Neve is still gone” the silence had stretched on much too long for your liking, your anxiety gnawing at you as you watched him. You were hoping he’d reassure you, tell you you had no choice but to make the impossible call, to thank you for choosing his city over her’s. But instead he just stood there, silent, unmoving. “I’m worried she might not come back, Bellara says she will, but honestly I’m not sure I would if I were her.” You tipped your head further back, the last mouthful of coffee warming your throat as you put your mug on the shelf next to his. “Lucanis,” He didn’t budge at the use of his name, his shoulders barely even moving as he breathed. You stepped closer to him, your hand out in front of you to touch his shoulder. “If now’s not a good time I ca-“ He felt cooler to the touch, even through the layers of his shirt and vest, it was as though his body was giving off no heat.

“Smells like waterlily.” The voice was his, but not entirely. His accent was present but the pitch off, the tone heightened. You tensed, preparing yourself for whatever was to come next. Finally the body of your partner turned, his eyes glowing purple as you’ve seen only a handful of times before.

“Spite” The name feels sharp in your mouth, your tone giving away your hesitation. He leaned forward, sniffing you closer and you remained glued in place. He stepped forward, close enough you could wrap your arms around him if you really wanted to. You can feel his breath on your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply, his face was so close to your skin you swear you could feel his lips against you for the briefest of seconds.

“You came to us for pleasure” You felt your face flush, of course it wasn’t your only intention, but you certainly weren’t going to turn it down if one thing led to another, but your relationship was still fairly new, and despite your longing for a physical component you weren’t intending to push those boundaries. But for your desires to be so bluntly outed there was a wave of embarrassment that washed over you.

“Let me talk to Lucanis.” You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest but not missing the way the demon’s purple eyes dragged down your form.

“It’s my turn with you.” You couldn't deny how impressed you were at Spite’s fairly calm demeanor, after listening to many of Lucanis’ one sided conversations with the demon you had expected him to be bordering on feral when speaking directly to him.

”Spite, I want to talk to Lucanis.” You added a bit more force to your tone, hoping the demon would grow tired of your insistence and go back to wherever it is he resides when Lucanis is in control. But when you felt hands on your hips, tugging you against the body you so desperately craved it took you a beat before you were struggling against the grip.

His lips were on your neck, lapping more than kissing. Groaning as he did so, every lick finishing with a gravelly moan, his hips rutting against your side as his hands balled the cotton of your shirt. “sp-pite- fuck” You tried to convince yourself to push away from him, but your longing for the Crow was fogging your brain. You could feel your core pulse, his tongue working wonders along your sensitive neck and the slightly distorted moans were making it difficult to resist.

“Spite” You tried to say but it ended up coming out as a whine rather than a demand, receiving what could only be referred to as a purr instead of a hum.

“Can smell how wet you are, Rook” The way he purred your name forced you to swallow a moan. Before you were able to even notice him walking you backwards, your back was against the stone wall of his makeshift bedroom. His fingers trying to unbutton the top clasp of your navy casual shirt, bought from a Crow vendor Lucanis had brought you to not that long ago. His patience lasted about as long as it took you to blink before he ripped the garment open, buttons falling to the ground around your feet.

Before you could chastise him about the now ruined shirt, the words died in your throat the moment his hands were on your bare waist. His blunt, well manicured nails dug into your skin, as he pressed your body against the wall, his lips finally on yours.

This wasn’t the first kiss you and Lucanis would have shared, but it certainly was the most heated. Every kiss with Lucanis had stopped before it went anywhere, his lips pulling away as soon as you tried to deepen it, never giving a reason but always retreating afterwards. But the way Spite kissed you, the way his tongue invaded your mouth, marking what you knew he’d refer to as his territory. You were trapped between him and the wall, his hands slipped down from your waist until he could roughly grab your ass, keeping your hips against his as he rutted against you, moans and grunts flowing from his mouth every time it wasn’t covered by your own lips.

“Had to…” He spoke into your mouth, his words fading as though he forgot he was even speaking “had to watch him. Watch him kiss you. Terribly.”

“Spite” you tried to sound as though his sentence offended, but it ended up coming out far more breathy than intended.

“Could smell you. Can always smell you. I always tell him. Tell him you want this. But he never listens to me.” He’s back to your neck, lapping at your skin, dragging his tongue down to your collarbones, his hands kneading the fat of your ass.

”Spite, I think- ah- I think it’s Lucanis’ turn.” Spite laughed against you, biting at your collar hard enough you weren’t sure if he had drawn blood or not.

“He’ll stop.” His mouth sank lower, nipping at the tops of your breast, “I know you don’t want to stop. Can smell it.”

“Spite, please.” Reluctantly he pulled away from your chest, your eyes meeting his glowing purple sockets, and somehow you could have sworn you saw his expression soften for a fraction of a second. You reached forward, cupping his cheek as you had done countless times to Lucanis, hoping the demon found the same comfort in it that the Crow did. He pressed his cheek into your palm,

“Will I get. Another turn?” You couldn’t resist nodding, finding yourself thinking how cute he was, despite the fact he was still pressing you against a wall and had torn your shirt in two.

You watched the demon blink, his purple eyes closing and reopening with black pupils, brows furrowed in confusion as he stared into your eyes, blinking a few times as though he was trying to clear sleep from his vision. Lucanis’ breath quickened, immediately trying to assess the situation that he had just woken up in. “Did he hurt you?!” His tone was dripping in anxiety as he stepped away from you, your hand falling from his cheek as he hurriedly looked around.

His eyes moved down your body then back up, pausing before repeating the same thing, slower this time. The tips of his ears burned red as he realized what had happened as he unknowingly slept. “Mierda” He looked down at the buttons that lay around your feet.

It was impossible to not notice how he was straining against his slacks, his eyes everywhere but your gaze. “I-I sho- I should go” You wanted to stop him, grab him by the wrist before he was out of reach, but your mind was still foggy with lust and craving more of what Spite had been giving you, but this time you wanted to feel Lucanis’ lips against you.

You stood there for what felt like an hour but you knew it couldn’t have been that long, leaning back against the wall behind you, hoping the cool stone would help clear your thoughts and bring back some reason.

By the time you went to go find the Crow, the sky surrounding the Lighthouse had shifted to black, the pieces of debris still floating around the buildings as though it were as normal as clouds in the sky. As you climbed the rickety stairs that led to the top of the dining hall you glanced around the courtyard, trying to see if any of your companions were out. You expected to see Emmrick on the balcony of the main house where he so often went at night, taking note of the ethers in the Fade. But tonight there wasn’t a soul outside apart from you, Lucanis and Spite.

He stood at the far side of the roof, bent over the railing, his head hung down so his forehead was resting against his arm. No matter how quietly you approached him, he always knew you were there. You could tell he knew by the way his body stiffened, his shoulders tensing and his head moving so he was looking out over the courtyard.

He needed time, time to figure out what had just happened, how far things had gone, time for his unexpected erection to go away, and time away from your intoxicating scent. But of course you were coming up the wooden steps not long after him.

He tried to pull himself together, locking his eyes on the back of the wolf statue in the middle of the courtyard, the cool ‘night’ air was the only thing that was keeping his cheeks from turning pink again. You stood beside him silently, leaning over the edge of the building, taking in the view of the Lighthouse.

You could feel how uncertain he was, his hands clenched the railing, his posture even straighter than normal as he pretended like he was taking in the sights just as you were. The breeze reminded you of your open shirt, which you tried to hold close with one hand while the other pushed through your bangs in an attempt to ease your uncertainty. “I’m not sure what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, desperate to break the silence that stretched between the two of you.

“Then why say anything.”

“Because I’m worried if I don’t start talking, you might never speak to me again.” You hazarded a look at him from the corner of your eye, hoping to gauge his reaction to some extent, but it remained stoic.

The silence stretched on until the sky darkened even more, the colour the same shade of blue as the Crows’ armor when you first laid eyes on him. You fidgeted anxiously, changing positions over and over again as the time passed, until you had your back to the railing, head up looking for any kind of star above you. “I should have been more careful.” It almost sounded like the words were meant for himself rather than you, as though he were reprimanding himself.

“Why?”

“He could have hurt you…I…I could have hurt you.” You couldn’t stop the little scoff that slipped out, turning to look at him with a smile across your lips, meeting his eyes for the first time since Spite had relinquished control. “Is now really the time to laugh?”

“If you think I couldn’t take you in a fight, you’re sorely mistaken, Crow.” You watched his eyebrow raise, the corner of his mouth following, but only slightly.

“Are you trying to change the subject?”

“I don’t know,” You sidestepped, bringing your shoulders closer so you could nudge against him “Why, is it working?”

“This is serious, Rook.” He turned to face you, his hand on his hip as he shifted his weight. “I let my guard down, and you…he forced himself on you.”

“That’s the thing,” You stood up straight, turning to look at him fully while you rubbed at the back of your neck, knowing that the next thing out of your mouth had the potential to end your relationship before it had really started. “He didn’t force himself on me, he more…initiated it, I guess.” You watched his eyes narrow, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together what you were saying. “I could have pushed him away if I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t?” There was an underlying disgust in his voice, as though the thought of being with him was so vile he couldn’t even pretend to understand.

“I didn’t.” The silence left as heavy as the weight of the world that seemed to live on your shoulders. He broke what little eye contact you had held, shifting his weight as he put more of his weight on the railing, his hair slipping from behind his ear.

“Why didn’t you?” His voice was quiet, if there had been even a bit of a breeze, you may have missed his question all together.

“Because I wanted it.” You watched his hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening so you could see his teeth grind. “But I wanted it from you.”

“From me?” You couldn’t stop the small laugh that slipped from your lips at his clearly, surprised tone.

”Lucanis,” You leaned against the small wall, one hand on the railing the other perched on your hip. “This can’t possibly come as a surprise.” He looked over at you, cheeks just a hint of pink.

“I just- I didn’t know you wanted…that.” He dropped his eyes again but not before dragging along the sliver of bare skin he could see between the seams of your torn shirt.

And to think he had touched you, kissed you, dragged his hands down your bare skin, and didn’t get to enjoy even an ounce of it.

“Consider this your formal announcement that, Lucanis-“ You stepped closer to him, waiting a beat before he too straightened, turning to face you so you could press your forehead to his. “I desperately want exactly what Spite was doing. But I want to try it with you.” The only response you received was a low hum that you felt rubble from his chest and into yours as he grabbed your waist and tugged you against him.

[revelboo]

bae, babe, revel my beloved

i log in after like a month and an half away and the first thing i see is shockwave straight up whipping his thang out and none of us were prepared. i was nearly knocked out of my seat, "prepare yourself" sent me into orbit

but i aint complaining too much, we about to dom tf out of him aren't we?

Pretty much 🤣

18+ content mass displaced mech 🌶️

Point of Extinction Pt 14

TFP Shockwave x Reader

• Soft fingers trace over his antenna, skim against his helm and he leans forward into your warmth, pressing his head against you to feel your heart beating. Reaching up to touch your arm and momentarily confused, jarred when there’s no hand to grip you before he slides the end of his cannon against you. Those gentle hands of yours becoming his everything, the ghosts, the confusion and anger all bleeding away as he focuses on your touch.

• Startling when he begins making a low, rhythmic rumbling that sounds suspiciously like a purr, you keep stroking his helm, his antenna. And try your best to ignore when his hips twitch or that there’s a bead of slick at the head of his spike that’s beginning to trail down his length. Maybe if you just ignore it he’ll lose interest? He shifts slightly, cannon bumping against the back of your thighs to knock you off balance and your grab at his shoulders to keep from sprawling on him. His head tipping so he can stare up at you. “Significantly prepared. Permission to pleasure you?” Leaning your forehead against his helm and feeling his one hand slide against your side, you swallow a groan. Maybe if you just do it, he’ll be happy and just go back to being his normal unsettling self? And okay, maybe you’re tempted. Maybe you need a bit of stress relief as he’d called it because you’ve been scared and stressed almost nonstop around him.

• Servos sliding under your top covering, pressing gently as he explores your softness, the feel of your ribs. And you push back some, leaning away from him. “I’m in control,” you say, and his antenna go back before he’s barely inclining his head in agreement. Standing over him, something about your resigned expression bothers him as you strip out of your layers of coverings. Immediately reaching for you again and hesitating, not sure if he’s allowed right now. Your small hand grips his by a servo and pulls it to your hip. Giving permission. “Just be careful, okay?” Rumbling softly, he slides his palm over the curve of your hip, painfully aware of all the ways he’s inadequate in a way he’s never been before. But they didn’t take both of his hands. Antenna flattening back as he shoves the thought back down, because it’s wrong. He’s always been this way. Nothing’s wrong with him. Sliding a servo against you, your hand tightens on his, your other palm landing on his shoulder for balance. “Slowly,” you murmur as he strokes you and your eyes close. “Just a little more pressure.” Your hips rock against his hand as he watches your expression, feeling you slicken for him and he carefully presses his servo inside you, stroking. “Oh, right there.”

• Shivering at the feel of that servo moving inside you, curling and exploring in cautious strokes. And when your eyes open, his single optic is staring at you as his cannon slides against the back of your thighs. “Mutual stimulation requested,” he growls and there’s a ragged edge to his voice like when he’d been upset when you’d asked him why he hadn’t experimented on you. Like the question hurt him. And he makes a low, snarling whine when you tug his hand away, his servo slipping free. Biting your lip, you really hope he keeps his word and lets you take the lead. Shifting to straddle him, you grab at his chassis for balance and rock yourself against him and there’s that funny almost whine of noise again. The huge mech trembling faintly under you.

• Head tipping, he can’t quite see what you’re doing, but definitely feels it. Moving against his aching spike to slick it with you before you grip him and his cannon slides, back hitting the berth when the head of his spike is engulfed in your liquid heat. And you make a soft noise, rocking against him, slowly taking him deep. Aware that he’s making a ragged sound as your head bumps against his chassis, feeling you trembling around his spike. “Okay,” you whisper, voice shaky.

• Stretched around his spike, you’re thankful he’s staying still as you get adjusted to him. Hesitantly rocking your hips and his cannon smacks against the berth, the sharp sound startling you. Realizing he’s dented the surface and looking to see the servos of his hand denting the berth on that side, making you painfully aware of how strong he is. That he can really hurt you if he’s not careful. “Movement required. Now.” Almost snorting at that needy whine in his growling voice, you brace yourself against his chassis and begin a hesitant rhythm. Getting used to the almost overwhelming feel of him inside you. And he is whining now, hear his helm thump against the berth as you ride him. Those noises of his making you more confident, leaving you feeling powerful instead of so helpless.

• “You’re doing so good,” you whisper, voice breathless, and you’re wrapped so tight around his spike as you move on him, hips rolling. Hears the berth creaking as he digs his servos in, cannon scraping and thumping as he tries to find purchase. “Almost there.” Where? And those ghosts are there at the edge of his processor, a whisper of what might be fear about being pinned down and helpless, but the corrupted memory can’t take over. Can’t break through the feel of you. Pleasure and tension crackling through him as he groans, hips rocking slightly when you move more urgently on a breathless cry. And you’re trembling against him, hips bucking as you milk his spike. Helm thudding against the berth, his hips lift as he overloads, releasing inside you.

• Trembling as you feel his spike pulsing inside you, releasing in excess as he groans and shudders under you. Still making that almost whining noise as his hips rock under you and he’s filling you again. Shivering with sensitivity, you drape yourself against his chassis, chin on an arm. Because of his build, you can barely see his head over his chassis as it lifts to try and see you. Feel his servos cautiously brush your side. “Perhaps further analysis needed?” He asks, antenna flicking back like he’s not sure and you start laughing, pressing your face against your arm. Because he’s unsettling and frightening and so damn precious and uncertain.

Previous

Next

[spitefulsatanfics]

═══ 𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁’𝓈 𝐹𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝒮𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒟𝒶𝓎 ══ “I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

Pairing: Castiel x Hunter!Y/N (She/Her Reader) From: Supernatural Based on: Season 5–6 (Rated 17+)

Rating: G Warnings: Slight injury (snowball related), fluff overload, Castiel trying to understand sleds. Tone: Wholesome, soft fluff, winter romance, angel-learning-human-things joy, established relationship, snow day delight Word Count: 4,812

Synopsis: He’s faced down the wrath of Heaven. She’s killed monsters with her bare hands. But nothing prepares either of them for the chaos of a snowball to the face—or the stillness of falling snow and love, confessed under a winter sky.

Written by: Little Devil ♥ Date Written & Published: June 3, 2025™

═══

The motel parking lot glittered with fresh snow, unmarred save for the tire tracks of the Impala and the hesitant footprints of a trench coat-clad angel.

Castiel stood very still, head tilted back, watching white flakes descend from a sky the colour of old tin. His hair was already dusted, lashes tipped in frost. If he noticed, he made no sign. He looked… awestruck.

“You’re gonna get frostbite, standing still like that,” Y/N called, tugging on her beanie and cramming her gloved hands into her coat pockets. Her boots crunched over the hard-packed snow as she approached him. “Not that you’ve got the circulation for it.”

Castiel blinked, and turned to her. “I don’t feel cold. Only… something strange. Heavy and light.”

“That’s winter,” she said, stepping beside him and squinting into the grey. “The good kind. Makes your lungs burn, makes you remember you're alive.”

“I am not technically alive,” he murmured, then glanced at her. “But I believe I understand.”

They stood for a moment in the quiet. The motel behind them hummed with a furnace too old for comfort, and Sam was inside, buried in research. Dean had groaned something about “hell no” when she suggested snowball fights.

But Castiel had stayed.

A rare day off. A rare snowstorm. An even rarer angel with time to waste.

Y/N bumped her elbow lightly against his arm. “You ever had a snow day, Cas?”

His brow furrowed. “A… snow day?”

“You know. Sledding. Snowball fights. Cocoa. Bad decisions made with icy projectiles.” She grinned, stepping back and scooping a handful of snow from the hood of Dean’s beloved car. “Like this.”

And with zero warning, she nailed Castiel in the chest with a snowball.

His stunned silence nearly made her feel guilty. Almost.

He looked down at his coat, then back at her with slowly widening eyes. “You threw snow at me.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

He tilted his head. “Is it a declaration of hostility or affection?”

“…Yes.”

═══

The hill behind the motel wasn’t much—a soft roll behind a rusted chain link fence, but it had snow, gravity, and the discarded remnants of an old sled Sam found in a gas station’s clearance bin last year.

Castiel sat stiffly on the plastic sled, trench coat billowing like he was about to take flight. Y/N crouched behind him, holding on.

“I still do not understand the point of this,” he said, peering ahead with cautious reverence.

“It’s fun,” she promised.

“Fun appears to be frequently hazardous.”

“Yep. Hold on.”

They pushed off.

The sled creaked like it might give up entirely halfway down, but momentum was on their side. They hurtled down the hill, Y/N laughing and Castiel—a low, surprised noise breaking from him—leaning slightly as they twisted off-course, nearly missing a rock. The wind howled past, snow sprayed up in chunks, and for a moment, Castiel smiled.

Really smiled.

By the time they skidded to a stop, they were both breathless—hers from laughter, his from something like wonder.

He turned slowly to look at her. “That was… exhilarating.”

“Told you,” she beamed, brushing snow from his coat. “And you didn’t even smite the sled.”

“I considered it.”

═══

Hot cocoa came in paper cups from the motel vending machine. It tasted like chalky sugar and regret, but Cas stared at his like it held the secrets of the universe.

“What is this… marshmallow?”

“Technically? Foam,” Y/N said. “But it’s trying its best.”

Castiel looked down into the cup, then back up at her. His gaze was unreadable, deep and wide as the sky itself. He had snow in his hair still. He hadn’t noticed.

“This is the strangest day I have ever lived.”

“That’s a big statement, coming from you.”

“And yet,” he said, quiet, “I mean it.”

There was something about the light just then. The grey beginning to give way to soft blue. The frost on the window edge. The warm hush between them in the car where they sat with steaming drinks and boots dripping melted snow onto the mat.

Y/N watched him study the cocoa, the snow outside, then her.

And then he said it.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

It was a whisper, barely spoken. His gaze didn’t move.

Not the snow. Not the sky. Not the cocoa.

Her.

Her heart stalled. She felt it in her ribs, her hands, her throat. Her skin warmed despite the cold. “Cas…”

“I’m not experienced with compliments,” he added, softly, like confession. “But I believe I meant that one.”

Y/N set her drink down and leaned forward slowly, fingers brushing against his where his gloved hands still cupped the hot paper.

“You know,” she said gently, “you can kiss me when you say things like that.”

Castiel looked surprised. Then… pleased.

He leaned forward, unsure at first, then steady. And when his lips met hers—chapped from cold but warm with purpose—it felt like snowfall in the dark. Quiet. Soft. Certain.

When they parted, the silence was golden.

“I should like more snow days,” he murmured.

Y/N grinned against his lips. “You’ve earned ‘em.”

═══

Newly-human Castiel spends his first snow day learning how to play, love, and live like a human—with the woman who stole his grace-ridden heart.

[tomatette]

For @rigginsstreet who wanted Steve edging Billy. I added a dash of spanking and a little helping of praise kink to the mix. Somehow this whole thing turned into 2795 words of unadulterated filth.

Enjoy.

Tags / Warnings: Rating: EXPLICIT! / Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Harringgrove, Edging, Spanking (previously undiscussed but wholly consensual), praise kink, comfort, mention of CA (implied) if you squint really hard

Click if you prefer to read on ao3

~*~

He was going to come.

His balls were tightening and pulling up closer to his body, every single muscle locking into place and he could almost feel his impending orgasm tingling in his teeth.

The death grip he had on the sheets threatened to tear the fabric apart, but he couldn’t have possibly cared less. All he was able to focus on was Steve’s mouth, and the maddening fact that he was still fully clothed, not a single button undone, while he was currently sucking and slurping on Billy’s dick like his life depended on it. And maybe it did. 

Pretty sure, Billy’s life depended on it anyway, because he was absolutely, one-thousand percent sure, going to die if Steve stopped again. 

“Yeah, baby,” he sobbed shouted, when Steve did something indescribably wicked with his tongue while simultaneously humming and massaging the spot halfway between his balls and his hole with the knuckle of his index finger.

It was heaven.

It was hell.

“I’m gonna … I’m gonna …”

His upper body arched up into a perfect bow, preparing for the mind-shattering orgasm that was going to make him black out for at least a minute or two. He swore he could already taste the mixture of chemicals on his tongue when suddenly both, the heat of Steve’s mouth and his hand disappeared, leaving him teetering on the brink, just shy of tipping over.

For a heartbeat, he thought he’d come anyway – was welcoming it even – though it would be fucking unsatisfactory with all the stimulation gone.

But then Steve tightly grasped the base of his cock with two fingers, and the scales tipped, and Billy was back to writhing on the sheets, tears of sheer frustration streaming down his face.

“MotherFUCKER!”

That one earned him an amused chuckle from Steve. “I really don’t think I’m the one all the moms want to fuck, sweetheart,” he chided, sounding far too calm and composed for the fact that Billy was laid out in front of him – buck-naked on his childhood bed, in his childhood room, checkered wallpapers and all – reduced to a squirming mess about ready to blow his load at the drop of a hat.

It was so utterly unfair, Billy wanted to scream. But he had screamed the six fucking times Steve had brought him right to the precipice so far, without letting him crash, and he wasn’t sure he had it in him anymore to do more than whine like a bitch in heat. And he was gonna pull up his pants and leave, blue-balled and all, before he did that, thank you very much!

“You are evil,” he spat between panting breaths. “And I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Steve pouted, giving him the doe eyes, knowing full well it – if nothing else – would always, always make Billy melt.

And, predictably, he did. 

He was so fucking whipped, and what was worse, he couldn’t even find the energy to be upset about it. All he could think about was how desperately he needed to come, like, two hours ago. That he was ready to do about anything to finally, finally be allowed to.

“Okay, so …” Steve heaved a put-upon sigh. “How about I make you a deal? I’ll get you up there one more time.” He hushed Billy when he did whine at that, tapping his bottom lip with a not-quite-friendly smile. “Hear me out, will ya? So, one more time, for me, my love. And then I will fuck you nice and slow and deep. What do you say?”

“Hard,” Billy croaked out, tears still leaking from his eyes, wetting the hair at his temples.

“What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t quite catch it.”

With the adrenaline from his impending orgasm receding, Billy had started to shake, his whole body racked by violent shudders. 

“Hard,” he repeated, his teeth chattering, making it difficult to speak. “Need it hard. Need to feel you. Steve, please, please!”

There was warmth in the chocolate depths of his eyes when Steve smiled this time. He wiped the tears from Billy’s temples and cheeks, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. And it wasn’t really what Billy wanted – what he needed – but he surged up into it anyway, burying his hands in Steve’s hair, licking into his mouth, every point of contact between them like a burning brand, threatening to set him aflame.

They kissed until Billy felt like he was floating on air from lack of oxygen, rocking his dick against Steve’s jean-clad thigh, rubbing himself raw on the coarse fabric.

He needed just a little bit more. Just a tiny push, just …

“Nuh-huh.” Steve pulled away, taking with him all the delicious friction, and Billy sobbed. “We made a deal, remember, Barbie? You want to be my good boy, don’t you?”

For some reason that sent a renewed surge of devastating, white-hot arousal through Billy. “Steve,” he babbled, nodding frantically. “I’ll be good. So good, Steve. So good for you.”

“I know, my good boy.” Smiling, Steve slid his index finger down Billy’s face, following the sharp contours of his jaw, before he pushed his thumb between Billy’s lips to suck on. Which Billy did, vigorously. Couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to, which he didn’t. Steve’s thumb just now was sweeter than ambrosia. It was everything. Steve was everything.

Steve leaned over Billy’s prone body and opened the top drawer of his bedside table, fishing out a bottle of lube half-buried underneath a wad of tissues. The snap of the opening bottle somehow made Billy’s insides throb, a Pavlovian response to a sound his brain now equated with sex. He wanted Steve. Wanted him so bad. But Steve had yet to remove even a stitch of clothing, while Billy was naked as the day he was born, cracked open and vulnerable. And with anyone else he would have hated it. He would have abhorred being seen like this. But not with Steve.

Steve was safe. Steve would catch him. Always. Even when Billy himself didn’t know he was falling.

He gasped, when he felt a lubed finger pushing against his rim. “Steve, I can’t, I … Steve.”

“Shhh, baby, I got you. You don’t have to do anything. Just lay back and relax and let me take care of you.”

And Billy? Billy went completely boneless. He sagged back into the pillow, his limbs pleasantly heavy, his whole body tingling with anticipation without even a hint of anxiety.

“So good,” Steve crooned, as he breached Billy with one finger, kissing the soft inside of Billy’s knee where it was hooked over his shoulder. “You should see yourself, love. Your sweet little hole swallows my finger like it wants to devour it.”

Billy was too far gone to articulate himself, so he let out a little huff, even when he preened deep inside.

A second finger prodded at his ass, joining the first one, gliding in without much resistance, and this time it was Steve who gasped. “Oh my god, Billy, you have no idea how much I want you. I can’t wait to sink into this tight heat of yours. I just have to make you almost come one more time. Can you do that for me, baby? You don’t want me to blow up in my pants before we get to the main act, do you?”

“Don’t …” Billy swallowed hard, fighting away the brain fog in order to glare at Steve. “Don’t you dare!”

“Oh, would you look at that, someone is getting a little mouthy here. I clearly ain’t doing a good enough job at turning you into a puddle of goo with my fingers, am I?”

Billy started squirming, trying to make Steve push his fingers deeper, deeper.

“Will you stop that already, Barbie.” Steve used his stern-mom-voice he usually reserved exclusively for when the brats got too unruly. But, god, did it turn Billy on to be subjected to it for once.

His wiggling got more desperate and he keened high in his throat. Until suddenly, a resounding crack ripped through the silence. Only a heartbeat later, pain – hot and cleansing – bloomed brightly on Billy’s asscheek, and for a moment he was frozen.

They both were.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, practically radiating worried concern. His hands fluttered over Billy’s still throbbing asscheek, unsure if he was allowed to touch. “I’m sorry,” he wheezed, thready and panicky. “I didn’t mean that, I … Oh my god, what did I think, I …”

“Steve.”

“I don’t know what came over me! I …”

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington!”

Steve wilted. His shoulders sagged forward and his face was a mask of poorly concealed misery. He started to pull his fingers out, but Billy clenched his ass and shook his head.

“Don’t”, he hissed.

“But, Billy, I …”

“Do it again.”

Steve’s pupils widened until they practically swallowed the whole iris. He stared at Billy in disbelief. “What?”

“Are you hard of hearing, Harrington. Do. It. Again!” His voice was shaking something bad, but he was pretty sure that it still got across how deadly serious he was. “I swear to god, if you don’t get on with the show right the fuck now, I will go and find somebody who will!”

And just like that, Steve’s eyes darkened and Billy almost balked at the pure, unadulterated expression of jealousy flitting over his features. “No,” he growled. “No, I don’t think so.”

The next slap was so hard, it made Billy’s ears ring and ripped a hoarse shout from his throat. His skin tingled like there was an electric current running right underneath it, the circuit closed by Steve’s touch.

“You’re mine.”

His hand came down again.

Billy howled, tears leaking from his eyes.

“Mine!”

His ass was burning, and every slap stoked the flames a little bit higher, made him hurt a little bit brighter. He almost choked on the endless litany of ‘Steve, Steve, Steve’ pouring from his mouth. The world ceased existing until nothing was left but the pain and the one inflicting it. 

His punisher. 

His savior.

Vaguely, he registered that he was close, so very close. His whole body shook, his teeth rattled, his eyes rolled back and it was going to be powerful, so very powerful and he-

“No!”

He jerked and twitched like electrocuted when – again – Steve just fucking stopped. He still was holding Billy up, had Billy’s leg hooked over his shoulder, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

It was agony.

Billy cried. Fat tears and big, ugly, heaving sobs he would have been ashamed of had he had the faculties to care. 

“It’s okay, baby.” Carefully, Steve rolled Billy onto his side, lying down next to him on the bed, spooning him from behind. “It’s all good, baby, you did so good. You were perfect and I’m so proud of you.”

If possible, Billy cried even harder. No one had ever told him he was good – perfect even — before. And he believed him. Because he had done what Steve had asked of him, hadn’t he? He’d been good.

His ass was throbbing, the sting painful where Steve’s jeans were touching his over-sensitive skin. Yet Billy whined when Steve pulled back from him, though the sound of a zipper made his throat dry up.

“It’s time for your reward, baby, don’t you think?” Steve sounded breathless, his free hand ghosting over Billy’s hips, manhandling him into position like a doll with movable limbs. “You still want it, right, sweetheart? You want me to fuck you real good?”

Heady excitement raced through his veins with the destructive power of a tsunami heading for the shore. He nodded frantically, reaching behind himself to pull Steve closer, to pull him inside of his body and become one with Billy.

Steve chuckled, amused and incredibly fond. “I need you to use your words, baby.”

“Please, Steve.” It was barely more than a gravelly whisper. “Please, need you, please …”

He felt Steve move, then a rush of excitement when he heard the cap of the lube bottle again.

“C’mere.” Steve wrapped one arm around Billy’s chest and used his other hand to guide his cock into Billy’s hole.

He hissed, when the teeth of Steve’s zipper dragged across his still bright-hot cheeks, the sting distracting him from the twinge of pain from Steve entering his very much underprepared ass.

It hurt, but it was also everything he’d ever wanted. It felt like being dragged over sharp, jagged rocks. Like being torn apart. Like being remade, stitched back together from scratch.

Steve wasn’t gentle, though he was not deliberately cruel either. When he bottomed out, Billy felt so incredibly full, it was like he didn’t know where he himself ended and Steve began anymore. They were joined. They were one entity. It sounded stupid, even in his own head, but was also the truest thing he’d ever thought.

When Steve started to move, Billy started to babble again. Couldn’t have stopped himself, even if he’d be embarrassed about it later.

He angled his hips and at the third hard thrust, Steve hit Billy’s prostate dead-on.

The shout that ripped from his throat was hoarse and pained and utterly liberating. He couldn’t do anything but lie there and take it while Steve was pounding into him from behind, not having a lot of room to maneuver, but somehow making it work anyway.

Billy felt so incredibly full, both, of dick and of feelings, and he held onto Steve’s arm wrapped around his chest like it was his life-line, not even thinking about touching himself. He still wanted to come, though. Needed to, in fact. Needed it more than he needed to breathe.

“Steve, I need …” He arched his back so he could look at Steve, plead him with his eyes. “I need …”

“Feels so good”, Steve panted, his hot breath brushing the shell of Billy’s ear, making him shudder. “You feel so good, baby. So good. Such a good boy for me.”

And Billy felt it building, growing taller and taller, until there was nothing left but the blinding pleasure-pain of being taken, being owned, being worshipped. He cried out, screwed his eyes shut and held on tight when the wave came crashing down and the water closed in over him. It was like he was immersed in it. Drowning, but also not. Everything cold and bitter and ugly swept away and taken by the current.

He was weightless. Floating. Everywhere and nowhere. Completely anchorless and yet tethered to the one person who had given him this. Who had stripped him bare and freed him. 

The light filtering through the rain-flecked window was low when Billy finally found his way back into his body. Steve laid next to him, on his side, propped up on one elbow, his head supported by his hand. With the index finger of his other hand he was lazily drawing patterns on Billy’s chest, the taut flatness of his abdomen.

“Hey.” Billy flinched. He sounded like a fucking frog. One that hadn’t seen a pond for a very long time.

Steve didn’t seem to mind. His eyes lit up and his whole face seemed to radiate joy. It was something Billy would probably never get used to. That it was him who was making Steve look like this. 

That he did this.

He’d been so used to breaking things, it still made him reel that he was capable of being another person’s happiness.

“Hey, love,” Steve said. “How do you feel? You’ve been out of it for quite a while there?”

“How long?”

Steve’s gaze flicked to the radio alarm clock on his bedside table. “About half an hour or so. 

“Fuck, really?” Slowly, Billy blinked. “I’m good. I feel … peaceful.”

“You look peaceful. I’m glad you’re okay. I was a bit worried that it might have been a bit … much?”

“Whatcha talking about, Harrington?” Billy raised a single eyebrow. “Whatever you throw at me, I can fucking take it.”

Chuckling, Steve shook his head. “Of course you can. You’re not reigning keg king for nothing, huh?”

“You can bet your sweet ass I ain’t,” Billy shot back, pleased.

“So, we’re good?”

“Better than good.” Billy beckoned him closer, crooking his index finger. “C’mere, pretty boy, help me up. I’m covered in spunk, I need a fucking shower.”

“Mind if I join you?”

Billy leered. “What, already gearing up for round two?”

That startled a laugh out of Steve. “I’d be surprised if you’d be able to get it up again tonight, baby.”

“Don’t count me out just yet. You know what they say, right?” He licked his lips. “It ain’t over till the fat lady sings.”

[perseephoneee]

rest your eyes [castiel x reader]

synopsis: you can't sleep so castiel helps you

a/n: i am sick with covid and have been rewatching supernatural with my boo. castiel was literally my second crush ever, and i missed him so much, so i decided to write something (based on the fact i'm an insomniac who would totally sleep on an angel if offered)

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

It was supposed to go: hunting a monster in the woods and returning to some dingy motel that Dean found at the end of the day. Instead, the chase led you and the rest of the squad so deep into the woods that it was wiser to set up camp than try and trek back to civilization. The camp included a rock outcropping to protect from the weather, a shitty fire, and a lack of comfortable sleeping arrangements. Sam and Dean were used to sleeping on almost anything so they could pass out immediately. You, on the other hand, had insomnia sleeping in a regular bed and knew you were going to struggle to fall asleep with nothing more than the moss covering the ground. 

Castiel didn’t sleep, so he was keeping watch. You had your jacket balled up as a pillow under your head, and instead of closing your eyes and trying to encourage rest in your body, you were staring at Cas through thick lashes. He looked up at the sky, a serene expression on his face like he was thinking about what each star meant. The light from the fire flickered across his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, even his cupid’s bow. Sometimes, you were struck by just how beautiful he was, like some Greek artists, the idea of the perfect man, sculpted to perfection and thrown at your feet for just you to enjoy. You wondered how you ended up so lucky to be blessed with his presence. 

“Why do humans enjoy looking at the stars?” Castiel asks you in a soft voice to not rouse Sam and Dean. You should’ve guessed that he would notice that you were awake.

“I think…it’s nice to think about things far away from your own life,” you hum, giving up on your rock bed and sitting up, brushing leaves and other debris out of your hair. Cas looks at you, the blue in his eyes a shifting kaleidoscope from the dancing lights around you. “And the concept of stars is beautiful,” you sighed, curling your legs up and under. Cas tilted his head at that, brows slightly furrowed. It was your favorite expression on him. 

“Stars are just clouds of gas and light,” Castiel answers. 

“But they’ve traveled thousands of light years to reach us, even if they don’t realize it,” you smile, your eyes tracing the path of various constellations. You can feel Cas’ gaze, but don’t dare look over. Looking into Cas’ eyes is falling headfirst into an abyss you didn’t prepare for. 

“I like that,” Castiel exclaims, a hint of a smile on his lips. “That’s a…human way of looking at it.”

“I am human,” you chuckle.

“Yes, you are,” he resumes, staring at the stars. It’s silent again; the only sound is the crackling of the fire and your breaths. Sometimes, the quiet is interrupted by Sam’s snoring, but you don’t mind. Your boys deserve the rest. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Castiel inquires.

“It’s hard for me to sleep, especially out here,” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Castiel looks troubled by that statement like he is personally responsible for your ability to sleep. “When I was little, sometimes my Mom would put me in the car and drive me around in circles, singing or telling stories until I passed out.” You remember fondly, smiling a little to yourself. “I don’t think the ground is as comfortable as a car seat, though.”

“Would you like me to tell you a story?” Castiel asks. “If you need a pillow…you can use me.” He looks slightly uncomfortable, and the tips of his ears turn red, making you grin. He never fails to be adorable when he wants to be, and you know he’s offering out of the goodness of his heart. Still, the ID part of your brain is brainstorming all the ways he could profess his love for you, something that you stamp down as you shuffle over to him. He leans his back against one of the rock walls, stretching his legs out. He had already removed his trench coat, offering it to you as a blanket. It was large enough to swallow you and smelled precisely like Castiel in a way you wanted to remember for the rest of your life. You took your makeshift pillow and set it on his lap, laying your head there and curling up under his arm, which he hesitantly rested on your shoulder. You knew you had to coax your ever-beating heart to calm down if you were ever going to sleep, but it was hard when you were lying on the lap of an angel you had a crush on. Still, Castiel was a gentleman who didn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable. 

“What’s your story?” you ask, voice small as you close your eyes and relax your body. 

“Early before humans won the race for my Father’s next creation, there was a pool going on for what Earth’s next great invention would be…”

Castiel’s voice, in its low timbre, started to lull you to sleep as you listened to his story. You liked listening to him talk, and he occasionally added funny anecdotes that would make you smile. You started tuning out of the story, instead focusing on the warmth from his lap, the smell of the open air and him, and especially how his fingers had started to absentmindedly stroke shapes on your arm. Eventually, you were pulled into a deep sleep, lingering in that space where you were only slightly conscious but not awake. That space was the only way you could feel Castiel petting your hair, brushing his fingers down your scalp to your neck and back to your shoulder. Even in your dreams that night, you swear you could feel his weight everywhere. 

You slept peacefully, without interruption, the whole night. Until morning, when the sound of voices roused you from your slumber.

“...did you get a girl in your lap?” Dean asked, sounding incredulous. 

“She is not in my lap. She is lying on half of my lap,” Castiel answered, ever the stickler for exact estimates. You could hear Dean’s groan and sarcastic retort. 

“Can you shut up? I’m trying to sleep?” you mumbled, screwing your eyes shut and pushing your face more profoundly into your pillow-jacket-thing. 

“C’mon, Sleeping Beauty, time to go hunting,” Dean called out. You let out a curse word, relaxing as you felt Castiel pat your head reassuringly. 

“You are much more Sleeping Beauty than I am,” you responded, finally opening your eyes to the daylight but not making a move to get up. Eventually, you realized you’d have to move, so you begrudgingly sat up, cracking your neck as you did so. “Thanks for the story, Cas,” you said, averting eye contact with the angel to avoid him seeing the light flush on your cheeks. You gave him back his coat, and he kindly removed a twig that got stuck in your sweater. 

“Did you sleep alright?” he inquired. You thought back to it and realized that for the first time in years, you slept through the whole night. 

“Yeah, I… slept well.” 

With that, Castiel smiled and helped you up. You were more alert on a hunt than you had been in a long time, all because a particular angel helped you achieve the best sleep of your life.

[ultimateca]

📚 Boost Your Confidence in CA Foundation Law! 📚 📌https://youtu.be/kTt0V2kyyFs Gear up for your exams with our 3-Day Ultimate Law Marathon led by CA Deepika Rathi! 🚀

✅ Concept Revision ✅ Exam-Focused Question Practice ✅ Quick Confidence Boost

Let’s make success happen! 💼🔥

[caexamblog]

How to Succeed with CA Mock Test Series: Foundation, Inter, and Final

For aspiring Chartered Accountants, passing the rigorous CA exams is no small feat. Whether you’re preparing for the CA Foundation Mock Test Series, the CA Inter Mock Test Series, or the CA Final Mock Test Series, mock tests are invaluable. They replicate the actual exam environment, helping you refine your skills, manage your time, and overcome the challenges of this prestigious qualification. This blog will guide you through the significance of mock test series at every stage of the CA journey.

Understanding the Importance of Mock Test Series

Mock test series are structured to simulate the ICAI’s actual exams, offering a realistic experience. They are designed for every level—Foundation, Intermediate, and Final—ensuring students get tailored preparation tools. Mock tests not only prepare you for the questions but also boost your confidence by familiarizing you with exam patterns and the syllabus.

What Is the CA Foundation Mock Test Series?

The CA Foundation Mock Test Series is the starting point for students embarking on the CA path. It includes mock exams for all foundational subjects, such as Principles of Accounting, Business Laws, Economics, and Mathematics.

This mock test series focuses on the basics, ensuring students understand the exam’s framework, marking schemes, and time constraints. By practicing these tests, beginners can overcome exam anxiety and confidently approach the real exam.

Why the CA Inter Mock Test Series Matters

As you progress to the Intermediate level, the CA Inter Mock Test Series becomes essential. It provides a deeper focus on subjects like Advanced Accounting, Auditing, and Financial Management.

Intermediate students often face challenges in balancing theoretical concepts and practical applications. Mock test series help in bridging this gap by simulating complex questions that require analytical thinking. These tests emphasize accuracy and time efficiency, preparing students for the heightened difficulty of the CA Inter exams.

How the CA Final Mock Test Series Prepares You for Success

The CA Final Mock Test Series is the ultimate preparation tool for aspiring Chartered Accountants. This stage demands mastery of advanced concepts, including Strategic Financial Management, Corporate Laws, and Taxation.

These mock tests are designed to test your in-depth understanding and ability to apply concepts in real-world scenarios. They also prepare you for the pressure of the final exam, helping you build the resilience needed to succeed. By taking multiple mock tests, students can track their progress and fine-tune their preparation strategies.

Benefits of Using Mock Test Series at All Levels

Mock tests are crucial for success in the CA exams, regardless of the level. Here’s how they help:

Understanding the Exam Pattern: Mock tests mirror the ICAI exams, giving you a clear idea of the question types, marking scheme, and overall structure.

Improved Time Management: Practicing with mock tests helps you allocate time efficiently across different sections.

Building Confidence: Familiarity with the exam format reduces anxiety and boosts confidence.

Identifying Weaknesses: Mock tests highlight areas where you need improvement, enabling targeted preparation.

Refining Exam Strategies: Regular practice helps you develop strategies to tackle challenging questions effectively.

How to Use Mock Test Series Effectively

Choose Reliable Mock Tests Select mock tests that are ICAI-recommended or provided by reputable institutions. These tests should closely match the exam syllabus and difficulty level.

Schedule Your Practice Sessions Plan your mock tests strategically. Take them at regular intervals, balancing them with your study schedule. Avoid last-minute cramming by starting your mock test journey early.

Simulate Real Exam Conditions Create a distraction-free environment and time yourself strictly during the tests. This approach helps you adapt to the pressure of the actual exam.

Analyze Your Results After each test, review your answers carefully. Identify mistakes and understand the reasons behind them. This analysis is key to improving your performance.

Focus on Weak Areas Spend extra time revisiting topics you struggled with in the mock tests. Use ICAI study materials, revision notes, and expert guidance to strengthen these areas.

Repeat and Refine Mock tests should be a recurring activity. With each test, track your progress and refine your strategies. Regular practice ensures you’re always improving.

Common Mistakes to Avoid

Many students fail to utilize mock tests effectively because of common errors:

Skipping Review Sessions: Completing the test isn’t enough. You must analyze your results to learn and improve.

Neglecting Time Management: Practicing under untimed conditions won’t prepare you for real exam pressure.

Focusing Solely on Strengths: While building on strengths is important, don’t ignore your weak areas.

Where to Access Reliable Mock Test Series

The ICAI offers official mock test series for Foundation, Intermediate, and Final levels. These tests are an excellent starting point. Additionally, numerous coaching institutes and online platforms provide high-quality mock tests. Ensure that the tests you choose align closely with the syllabus and exam format.

Final Tips for Success

Consistency and dedication are the keys to mastering the CA exams. Stay disciplined with your mock test schedule, and balance your practice with regular study and revision. Keep a positive mindset, and remember that every mock test you take brings you one step closer to your goal of becoming a Chartered Accountant.

Conclusion

The journey to becoming a CA is challenging, but the CA Foundation Mock Test Series, CA Inter Mock Test Series, and CA Final Mock Test Series are your best allies. These tests not only prepare you for the exams but also shape your skills and confidence. Start using mock test series today, and take a step closer to achieving your dream of becoming a successful Chartered Accountant.

[tau1tvec]

Some tips for The Sims 3 Buy/Build

Install LazyDuchess’ Smooth Patch to alleviate lag, esp in Buy/Build and CAS.

Keep your CC merged and organized, esp your patterns, this will also alleviate a lotta lag across all modes.

When building on community lots, or any lot rlly, avoid going to the edit world menu, and just put testingcheats enabled into the cheat window, then shift+click the ground of the lot to enter Buy/Build mode. This makes leaving it to save a lot easier, with less “preparing” screens to possibly get hung up in.

Lower your settings, you don’t need any adjacent lots loaded, and you certainly don’t need super water on either. You can always switch these back on when you’re done.

While you’re at it, remove your HQ mod, and turn off your Reshade/Gshade preset, or at least turn off your depth shaders. I only ever turn on my depth shaders when I’m taking screenshots for better fps while playing. The DoF shader esp requires a lotta resources your game could be using to simulate all those 78 townie sims instead.

Save as… vs Save, I Save as… at least every third save. It’s also just good habit to keep backups.

When using the CASt tool, set down everything you plan to CASt first, then switch to a category like the wall tool to avoid eventual lag and drag when using it a lot. Love yourself. You don’t have to suffer using CASt tool in an overpopulated category like misc deco.

Utilize the clone option through testing cheats to duplicate already CASted objects, it’ll keep your design just like the dropper tool, but it’s a lot less time consuming, I promise.

Don’t be afraid to use the swatch save tool for objects you use often, esp community lot objects, as it helps to keep your aesthetic consistent. I also keep all of my favorite streetlamps, benches, and public trash bins etc in a convenient custom collection folder to speed up the process of doing multiple lots in one sitting. These handy tools are there, use them.

The issue with custom counters. They mess up sometimes, if you can’t recolor it suddenly, here’s how to fix that. Now if you can’t place down a cupboard suddenly, even though nothing’s in the way, and you’ve got moveobjects on activated, try putting it on the wall a tile over, and then try adding it to your desired spot again. Lastly if you set down counters or cupboards at a corner, and it messes up the textures, but you can still recolor it, you could do what the video I linked above does, or you could simply pull out the CASt tool, and switch it back to any of its original swatches and click the check, then feel free to recolor it as you want.

Railings will also do the “can’t recolor” trick too, but this is a simple fix, just delete it, and replace it, and you’re good.

“Oh no, I switched between buy and build mode, and now my catalogue won’t load, and I can’t click on anything at all!” Don’t panic, hit F2 and/or F3 on your keyboard, these are shortcuts for switching between them, and if you’re lucky it’ll load properly again. Should you get the bug where you load a category and it’s somehow empty, don’t fret, just click on a different category and this should fix it. Then if you get the bug where all the objects you put down disappear suddenly, sorry your game is haunted. Call an exorcist, or just reload, they might reappear if you do.

Tbh, if you run into any kind of major bugs, it’s likely a sign to either save immediately or just restart your game. These only ever show up when you’ve been at it a while ( at least for me ), therefore starting fresh wouldn’t hurt. Probably also wouldn’t hurt to check whether you might’ve installed something the game didn’t agree with by running Dashboard, or put it through the ol’ Save Cleaner.

Honorable Mention: Keep an eye on the texture sizes and poly counts of objects. I know it’s tempting to build these ultra hyperrealistic lots with clutter at every inch, but unless you’re just doing it for screenshots, or for your story, or using it very sparingly, it is not by any means recommended purely for gameplay. This is just the truth when it comes to any Sims game. You don’t want lag, or max memory crashes, or save errors? The Sims 3 is a 32bit game, that’s almost old enough to drive, be easy on it.

[d0g0r0t]

So I was writing for a anon request and it took a shit and I lost the request so IF YOUR 🃏-ANON THIS IS FOR YOU

Toby x virgin reader

Soft sex, fingering, praise, whimpering, softdom!Toby

Toby are you sure about this?..

You mumble nervously against your palm. You shirt already torn off and the pants are waiting to be next as he hovers over you form. His rough hand sliding down your side to you hip, kneading the skin gently as he leans in and gives a soft peck on the lips

His hand reaches for your belt as he slowly unbuckled it

I promise pretty thing...

He cooes. Your stomach twisting into knots as you grip tighter at his shoulders, nipping at you lip as you try to keep your composer. Sighing threw your nose, you smile softly and nod. Trusting him in the pleasure he so desperately wants to give you. His neck pops with excitement as he pulls down your pants without a second thought. Gasping in surprised as a soft giggle follows from both of you. He hushed you, as he slowly kissed down your stomach, reaching dangerously close in-between your thighs. His hands grasp around your thighs as he kisses them up and down, keeping eye contact the whole time without a word. Slowly, he pulled them apart, exposing you open to him. The cold against you skin hit you with a shudder. Wanting so bad to close your legs from pure embarrassment, but you simple couldn't. Your cheeks flush at the thought of him this close and personally and how far he might go is enough to send you over. He gave you a look, asking for permission, giving a nod in return he slowly pulls down your underwear, leaving you all for him. His eyes widen in awe at how beautiful you were. He looked like he could eat you like a meal right here right now with no hesitation. Your cunt gushed at they way he stared, mentally preparing yourself.

His finger gently teased your lips as he stared down at you. The feeling of that small touch made you jerk, whining softly at the tingle that ran threw your body. He pulled back and grasped your hips, gently pulling you back

I'm not going to hurt you... just tell me when to stop ok?

With a slow nod, he goes back in. Taking his middle finger and grazing it over your clit, making you gasped out. Not stopping, he continues to do small circles over your nub. Squirming, your waist slids on the sheets as you whimper. Lips part and eyes hooded as you stare down at his hand being so gentle.

Toby... ahuha-

Grabbing weakly at his wrist as he doesn't stop. He apologies with a small kiss on the cheek as his finger slowly slips in. Hissing and moaning out at the unexpected action

Your ok mamas... your doing so well..

His fingers thrusts in slowly, letting you adjust to his finger. Whimpering at the fullness in you, you grasp onto his hoodie, digging your nails into his skin as his finger curled up. Whining and bucking as a shock wave went threw your body. This whole ordeal was so unfamiliar you could barely keep up with your own emotions. He kissed along you jaw and gained slight speed in his thrusts. The tip of his finger hitting your gummy ceiling as he went in and out with ease

Never knew a princess like you could get so wet.

He teased. You whimper in response as your legs twitched around his waist. Your eyes rolling back slightly as be stays at that stead pace. It was slow but deep, it felt amazing and you didn't know why. He shoves his finger in deep and slow, curling up in a harsh manner, making you yelp with pleasure. Whining into the crook of his neck. He let's out a soft chuckle from deep in his throat at the way you reacted to his finger.

That's it... your such a good girl for me..

He kissed your neck, nipping at your collarbone and leaving his mark on you as he slowly enters another finger. Your eyes widen and you moan loudly, high pitch in his ear as your hips jerked and adjusted to the stretch of your cunt

T-Toby I ca-ant.

Yes you can, your doing so well..

He runs his thumb their your fleshy lips and places pressure on your clit, completely sending you over.

Moaning and clawing at him desperately. Your eyes water and your stomach compresses as a sign your close.

He noticed this and picked up the speed. The gushing sound in-between your legs as his plam pressing up against your cunt with how deep he's going.

And with one finally thrust. You came all up his arm. Whimpering and moaning loudly as you grip around him. Your stomach corls as you trembled underneath him.

As you slowly came down from your high he slowly pulls out.

Good girl..

[valwrite-s]

Castiel Character Study

Finally putting my writing out there. I've been rewatching supernatural and couldn't not write that scene from S5EP18 from castiel's perspective. Words: 722

“I gave everything for you and this is what you give to me!?” 

A punch knocked Dean back as Castiel lifted his leg and kicked him into the metal fence. A paint grunt left his mouth as he tumbled to the ground. Calculated and restrained the angel made his way over to the man on the ground, only stopping as he was met with green eyes silently pleading with him. The expression on Castiel’s face did not change other than a slight jaw clench as Dean spoke. 

“Just do it. Do it Cas!” A broken Dean called up from the filth of the alleyway. His eyes silently pleading for Casiel to end this. End this period of uncertainty. He could see the turmoil in Dean's eyes, the questions flooding around his brain. Would he be able to save Adam and take his place before it was too late? Would he be able to find a way to stop this? Would he be able to accept the role he was thrust upon him and kill his brother. Is any of this worth it to even try?

Castiel’s fist remained clenched and ready to swing again. The man in front of him was special, he felt it the moment he saved Dean from Hell. The angels always spoke of him as the means to an end, but their limited time together has shown him to be more than Heaven could ever understand. Yes this man is a soldier, but there is so much more. Humanity oozed off of him. He was crude and angry but he was also scared and full of love.

He thought he had everything figured out. Things were black and white for so long, he never knew there was any other option. The option to change things, to think for yourself and decide. Dean showed him things could be different, that things had to be different. He envied that Dean always had a choice, even now the Winchesters fought so hard to have a choice. That’s what enraged him so much- he had given up. The anger boiled in his stomach, a new sensation he has yet to get used to. He wanted to keep swinging, to release the pressure that built in his chest. He needed a release.

After everything that Dean presented himself to be, he just gave up. This could not have been for nothing. He had lost everything for the man infront of him and now he was begging to die. He wasn’t about to let it all go to waste. Why couldn’t Dean see that? Why couldn’t he see just how much he sacrificed for him? Why couldn’t he just get up.

Castiel took a breath and something else washed over him. Compassion. Dean was probably so tired from fighting everyday of his life and now he was faced with two options- let Michael use his body to kill his brother and cause the end of the world or let Michael use someone else to do it. Even as desperate to find some other way as they were it looked like there were no other options. That’s why even as betrayed as Castiel felt, his grip loosened. His hand relaxed, there had to be hope still. He started to move towards Dean, who braced for impact trying to prepare himself for anything. The angel reached a gentle hand out and placed the tips of his fingers on Dean’s shoulder, barely making contact. Sleep.

Castiel watched as his body slumped and landed with a small thud. Even when unconscious his face contorted with worry and fear. There had to be another way. There needed to be. There was too much riding on this. The love for humanity and the want for it to continue and flourish flooded his heart. For the first time in a while, he had faith. Not in God nor Heaven, but in the man unconscious in front of him. If anyone could figure out a way out of this it was him. As much as he may not like what he has to do, he was a fighter, and that is what the world needs right now. Castiel took a breath and lifted Dean up, leaning him on his shoulder. Determination radiated in him. They needed to fix this, and they would.

Somehow.

[headkiss]

hi hi!! in this fic you talked ab how peters girlfriend took pics of him and flustered him, could i request something where peter takes pictures of them instead and flusters them? if you do write this could you make it gender neutral? it’s completely okay if you can’t 🙏🏽

(feel free to ignore this i don’t mind i love everything you write)

hi thank u so much for ur request!!! | 0.7k of fluff, gn!reader

Peter has a drawer full of polaroid pictures.

You’re the one who gave him the camera. Your first christmas together, a wrapped box handed over with a shy smile, a tackling hug from Peter once it had been opened. He hasn’t stopped using it since.

Now, his drawer is almost exclusively filled with pictures of you. Years worth of memories and moments frozen in a frame. You sitting by the boxes on the floor after moving into your apartment, your head tilted up towards the sky when it snowed.

He carries the thing everywhere, slung over his neck or in his beat-up backpack. All the pictures of you, and you’re still not used to having a camera pointed towards you.

Tonight’s a takeout kind of night, both you and Peter too lazy to cook. It’s sweatpants that are too long rolled at the ankles, a baggy t-shirt with a hole in the neckline.

He ordered your favorite without asking, you’d simply overheard him on the phone with the restaurant and smiled because he knows you that well.

“I’ll be right back,” he’d said to you before he left to go pick up the food, a kiss stamped to your cheek.

It’s not even fifteen minutes later when he comes back through the door, the rustle of the takeout bag in his hand, the jingle of his keys being set down on the counter. You stand from the couch and meet him in the kitchen.

He’s standing by the island, taking out the boxes filled with your dinner from the bag. You come to stand beside him, nearly hip to hip.

You eat that way, too, sideways glances during bites, giggles hidden behind hands. It’s the kind of easy, simple, domestic thing you’ve come to love so much. The comfort that you could only ever feel with Peter. With the boy you love.

Peter catches you looking at him, your eyes all fond and sweet, and his heart swells in his chest. For a long time, he thought he was difficult to love, someone nobody would want, and then you came along and you look at him this way and he feels much differently.

“Don’t move.” Peter drops his fork and all but runs into your bedroom. He comes back with the polaroid camera in hand.

“Peter,” you groan. “Another one?”

“Just one, I promise.” He stands by the island again, hip leaning against the counter. “Please?”

You’ll never be used to the attention he gives you, to the idea that you’re worthy of being the subject of his pictures. As much as it embarrasses you, you can’t say no. Not when he says ‘please’ the way he does. Lip jutted in a pout, brown eyes sweet on yours.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Peter’s smile is instant, eyes crinkling in the corners. He leans in and pecks the tip of your nose, “thank you, honey.”

Your nose crinkles at his affection, and before you can really prepare yourself, the click of the camera sounds.

“I wasn’t even ready!”

“That’s kinda the point,” he says. “You already looked perfect, ‘kay?”

You hide your face in your hands, flustered as always when he takes a picture of you. It’s not even the picture itself, really, it’s the words that come with it, the compliments that he spits out like they’re facts.

You’ll never understand how this boy could feel the way he does about you, but he feels it and you don’t ever want to let that go.

The picture prints from the camera, and you can hear Peter start to shake it in the air to develop it quicker. After a couple of seconds, he sets both the picture and the camera down, freeing his hands to grab yours and pull them away from your face.

“Stop hiding,” he weaves his fingers between yours now that your hands are down, swinging them lightly between your bodies. “You’re pretty. Thank you for letting me capture that.”

“Give me my hands back, I need to hide again.”

“No!” Peter shakes his head, his smile soft and easy as ever. The private smile that he saves for you. “You’re not getting ‘em back.”

And, even flustered, you suppose having your hands in Peter’s forever wouldn’t be so bad.

[bowerspowers]

Do you have any advice for making it ocs?

If there are two things I love in life, they're IT and OCs. While I might not be the best person to ask, I do have some tips that can hopefully help a few people! Buckle up, this is going to be a long one!

Altering Canon .

First and foremost! I think it's important to not heavily alter the main story of IT when you create a character. This also means don't subtract from canon character's experiences. By that I mean taking a canon characters "scene" and giving it to your character instead.

Altering canon can be fine as long as it's not done to an extreme <3

Relatives .

Making your character related to any canon cast is fine, but with some characters you need to be prepared to explain a LOT. Say if you are making a character related to Beverly Marsh or Henry Bowers, two characters who are both heavily abused by their fathers. It's going to be a lot harder to explain "Where are they?" during certain events of the canon than say a character who isn't overly impactful on the plot.

Arguably, making any relative to any of the Losers cast would be challenging! Off top my head, Richie is probably the easiest to pull off haha.

THAT BEING SAID. There are so many Richie Tozier sisters out there. I'm not trying to say it's overdone but —

Face Claims .

I touched upon this recently, but remember if you're making a child character it's important to choose a face claim that actually looks the part! The main age range is 12-16, however I feel like in the search of the "prettiest face claim" people have chosen actors who when you look at them you go: "That's a grown adult!"

A rule of thumb that might help! Imagine them side by side with the main cast ( especially Ben ) and the image looks funny in your mind, it would probably have looked funny on screen.

Actors age however, and if you have a face claim you really like, choosing a role which you base their main visage around really helps! For example, I chose Elle Fanning for a face claim — and she's quite obviously not a child anymore. So I made sure to indicate which role I base her appearance off of! ( The Neon Demon )

Of course, there are always exceptions! Some people genuinely look older than what they are ( or younger ) and that's okay too! It might just help to specify that in their bio.

Lore .

The best and arguably most important part of your character, their foundation! The fun stuff! Truthfully, the more information you have the better!

Where in Derry do they live? West Broadway? Are they on Witcham Street with Bill? Or perhaps they live in the poorer neighborhood near Beverly. Whichever you choose, should honestly impact your character.

Family, it's so important to include family SOME how. It doesn't matter if they are present in your writing or not but they shouldn't be ignored. You'd be surprised how much fuller your character feels when you shape their world around them, if that makes sense.

Friends, if your character has friends with any of the canon cast, you should absolutely add details about how they get along. ( Or don't! ) if your character has other OC friends, or friends you've created to world build for them — absolutely talk and write about them as well !

ALSO! What is their social standing in school? What sorts of people do they hang around with — cliques! Artist? Music? Popular kids? Band Kids? The list goes on....

There is SO much to go into detail about, and honestly I HIGHLY reccomend writing it all out in one space where people can navigate and learn about your epic lil OC.

Carrd.co - a great and FREE webpage which you can fully customize to suit your OC. Including thousands of free themes you can choose from! It looks professional, and it's easy to navigate and use for beginners too. There IS a paid subscription so that you can have unlimited elements ( basically like unlimited photos, text boxes, links, etc) but free users get up to 100! Which should be more than enough. And if it's not you can make a secondary carrd site and link them together!

Google Docs - Another great tool for begginers! I'll be honest I don't use it but many of my friends swear by it. It's also customizable with thousands of custom themes online to choose from!

Toyhouse - Toyhouse is another popular OC hosting website with many themes to choose from. Many are also paid and created by the community however. Toyhouse requires a generated key to create an account, I might have some spare keys if anyone needs one, but honestly Toyhouse isn't as user friendly as the above options.

Pennywise .

Please please PLEASE! Do not forget about Pennywise. There is a very real looming threat in Derry Maine, and while most choose to write about their characters interaction with the canon cast or other OCs; it's very important to include your character's thoughts on the disappearance of MULTIPLE children in Derry Maine.

They do not need to combat Pennywise, and realistically they wouldn't stand a chance against Pennywise either. But it's also really cool when writers include Penny into their story or lore, otherwise it may as well just be a slice of life fandomless character.

The EDGE .

I understand we all love having that really cool character who is considered to be "dangerous" or "unhinged" and it is 100% okay to go that route too. HOWEVER, if you're going to create a character who is considered to be a "pyromaniac" or a character who is a "stalker" ...

Take it seriously.

While IT has it's fair share of comedic scenes, it also takes it's characters who do Bad things, seriously!

Take Patrick Hockstetter for example. He is mischaracterized to hell and back in the fandom, and more or less made into a joke character. But if you genuinely read into his backstory; he is a terribly creepy person, dark, and absolutely twisted. Disregarding the one scene that EVERYONE tends to focus on; Patrick is a very well written character. And the things he does aren't written to be jokes as the fandom is very much guilty of portraying them to be!

ULTIMATELY it's really not that deep. But these are just a few tips that I have to share. There is so much more when it comes to making a well developed character, but I really hope that it helps! If I can think of anything to add later, or if anyone has any questions I'd be more than happy to help! I LOVE OCs and I love supporting people who wish to create them <3