#i hope this is even remotely coherent. is this thing on

[theladyyavilee]

Hey, as someone newer to the fandom what is up with the sunset, construction on sunset thing?

hey nonnie! (sorry this took a while <3 I took this as an excuse to compile a full sunset meta post and there was more than I thought!) okay so this one is a little more meta even than the trapped dads meta, buuuut it is one of my favorites, because at least to me it is pretty loud and they've - especially recently - been calling back to it in very cute little ways, but the callback in this episode was the loudest in a WHILE and it is actually a beautiful parallel to the first ocurrence of the whole construction on sunset thing!

so, as far as I know it all dates back to the mention of 'there was construction on sunset, I had to take a detour' in 4x8 when Eddie returns from his math date with Ana to Buck taking care of Christopher and the connection between Ana and Sunset, which was beautifully laid out by @yramesoruniverse here in this post and there is a gifset by @catdadeddie here highlighting the parallel!!

for me personally the fact that they brought both SUNSETS aaand CONSTRUCTION back for this episode, when Eddie is dating again? yeah that was a loud choice! especially the fact that he was called over to do repair/construction work for Pepa, only the real reason (the real construction and the REAL reason for another detour he is taking on his path to love) was the blind date all along and they put not one but two pictures with a potential* sunset onto the walls in Pepa's house to make sure we saw that the 'construction was on sunset' AGAIN xD see this post by yours truly for pictures and lots of yelling! xD

*okay, I say potential sunset, because last night an anon asked about whether it is a sunset or a sunRISE and indeed we do not know for sure! now after that I went onto a google research binge and found that sunrises and sunsets are hard to distinguish on pictures, as they are the exact same phenomenon, only with movement in different directions! the only thing that sometimes makes a distinction possible is the fact that air pollution increases during the day and clears during the night, so sunrises often have a clearer and crisper feel to them than sunset, which in exchange provide more of a color spectacle caused by the increased refraction on the air pollution particles

based on that @stagefoureddiediaz, @mistmarauder and I have come more or less to the conclusion that the picture we see behind eddie could very likely be a sunrise - signaling a new beginning for him, while the picture in the living room, behind vanessa and her tia and connected to the dating of it all, is another sunset - standing for both the construction on sunset causing a detour in eddie's love life of it all, as well as a (potential) relationship coming to a close as soon as it has begun xD

now on the exact meaning of sunsets by themselves we have not yet found exact agreement, but they seem to be about endings, about the sun setting on something, as in the sun setting on a specific relationship or relationship dynamic!

(more under the cut)

so on this scene in 2x17 where we see Eddie reading Shannon's letter and more or less letting himself say goodbye to her and finally cry over this loss, while on the beach at sunset

@mistmarauder says 'Well, I don't actually think sunsets are Buddie coded. I think they're relationship coded. And really the sun is setting on his relationship with Shannon because she's gone. [...]Sunsets make me think endings. Not beginnings.' and also '[The] Sun sets on one thing and rises on another.' which after a brief conversation @stagefoureddiediaz points out doesn't quite preclude it from relating to Buddie as well by saying 'Not necessarily just because we haven’t got there yet doesn’t mean that that sunset wasn’t relevant to buddie - it’s kind of like a chapter ending - but it’s like that sunset brings on the darkness that is the tsunami which leads to the dawning of a new and different friendship - one we’re still seeing grow and change - I think if we looked at when all the sunsets appear in connection with buddie they’ll come at key moments of shift - so they’re constantly chapter endings - drawing them increasingly closer together - but it’s kind of a secondary theme with the sunsets rather than the primary one'

furthermore we have come to the conclusion that some of the smaller depictions might intentionally be ambiguous on whether or not they are a sunrise or a sunset, because at a turning point it is natural for there to be a chapter that closes and another, new one, that begins!

alright now for fun little nods to the whole sunset thing they've done since then:

we have Buck's heart drawing in 5x14 being done in sunset colors, pointed out by @fiona-fififi in this post, going perfectly with Buck 'misunderstanding the assignment' another detour having to be taken!

then we have three posts by @stagefoureddiediaz, this one about the sunset balloon at the bedside of the girl who was living a fake life in 5x15, an episode that had multiple nods to Eddie maybe also not letting himself live his life quite true to who he is! another post for 5x17 and the sunset colors on the cake for ramon's retirement! and then in this very recent costume meta for 6x13 kym points out how in the very lovely buckley-diaz scene with the math homework, Chris is wearing a shirt that has a small pineapple on it that is inlaid with a teeny tiny sunset scene!! she has also pointed out that there is a good chance that the full picture on the front of Chris' yellow shirt that he wears in the scene immediately before the Eddie/Ana break-up in 5x3 is depicting a sunrise/sunset too!

and then for two more posts that actually put various meta concepts, including 'construction' and 'sunset' into relation to each other we have this one here by @ktinastrikesback and this one by @ktinastrikesback and @fruitydiaz!!!

okay, this got kinda long, but should be most of what we have so far! which does not mean there won't be additions to this post in the near future, because we have actually decided to take a new look through all episodes under the added aspect of sunsets/sunrises, as well as actually looking at episodes that predate the Ana introduction on Sunset Boulevard, so watch this space if you want some more insanity later on xD

[katyspersonal]

Okay, I have Bloodborne gaming question

How TO enter specific dungeons glyphs? I honestly don't know, I keep seeing videos of players just set up a chalice dungeon by entering a glyph, but I do NOT see a field for this. And so far the only even remote explanation I could gather is that I have to be online at least once for data on them to load, is that true?

I've never entered Bloodborne online in my life lmao - physically can't do that because of my location - but I think I am onto a way to walk around this problem recently, so I want to know whether it's worth it? Guys if you can help let me know, I deadass can't find a coherent explanation what to do ANYwhere

[elainemorisi]

still morbidly fascinated by that poll I reblogged, went into the notes, and WHAT the FUCK!!

when I say I am undoubtedly and emphatically no form of ace/aro despite very comfortably living the lifestyle that is the fuck what I mean. and either a LOT of people are a lot more aromantic than is generally discussed (okay cool great for y'all no problems here if so. but my money is not on this) or a certain Christianity-stinking wtf attitude is a lot. lot. more prevalent than I assumed. "Love is a choice" jumpscare of the fuckin year

[godsfavdarling]

My guardian angel

my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader words: 790 summary: You get sick but thankfully, your boyfriend, Spencer is there to take care of you! warnings: none! a/n: This was a request for a male!reader, but when I finished, the gender wasn't really specified anywhere, so I changed it to gn!reader. I hope that's okay <3

The BAU had been called out on a particularly challenging case, one that had taken you and the team to the outskirts of a small, remote town. The days were long and grueling, filled with interviews, searches, and endless paperwork. Throughout it all, you had been feeling off—more tired than usual, slightly achy, but you pushed through, not wanting to let the team down.

By the time the case wrapped up, you could barely keep your eyes open. Spencer noticed immediately. As the jet landed back in Quantico, he took your hand, his eyes filled with concern. "You don't look well," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. "Let me take you home."

You tried to protest, insisting that you were fine, but a sudden wave of dizziness hit you, and Spencer had to catch you before you fell. That was the last thing you remembered before everything went black.

When you woke up, you were in Spencer's bed. The room was dimly lit, and you felt disoriented. Your body was drenched in sweat, and every muscle ached. You tried to sit up, but a gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you.

"Hey, hey, easy there," Spencer's soothing voice filled the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at you with worry etched on his face. "You're burning up. Just rest."

"Spence?" you mumbled, your voice hoarse. "What happened?"

"You fainted," he explained, brushing a cool cloth over your forehead. "You have a high fever. I'm taking care of you."

You tried to protest, but the fever had made you too weak to argue.

Spencer gently held out a glass of water and the medication, his eyes full of concern. "You need to take these, okay?" he said softly. "They'll help bring your fever down and make you feel better."

"Everything's spinning," you muttered, feeling the world tilt around you. "Like... like a carousel."

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes filled with sympathy. "I know. Just try to rest. I'll be right here."

For the next few hours, Spencer stayed by your side, never leaving you for more than a few minutes at a time. He read aloud from one of your favorite books, his voice a calming presence in the midst of your feverish haze.

At one point, you reached out and grasped his hand, holding it tightly. "Don't leave," you whispered, your eyes glassy with fever.

"I'm not going anywhere," Spencer assured you, squeezing your hand gently. "I'm right here."

As the night wore on, the fever slowly began to break. Your breathing steadied, and you drifted into a more restful sleep. Spencer stayed awake, watching over you, relieved to see the worst of it passing.

When you woke up again, the sun was just starting to rise. Your fever had significantly reduced, and you felt more coherent, though still weak. You turned to Spencer with a tired smile. "Thanks for taking care of me, Spence. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Spencer leaned in and kissed your forehead. "You don't have to thank me. I'd do anything for you." He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes filled with love and relief. "Just promise me you'll take it easy for a while, okay? No more running around getting sick on cases. And you tell me next time you’re not feeling well."

You chuckled softly, nodding. "I promise. As long as you promise to always be my guardian angel."

Spencer smiled, his heart full. "Deal."

Over the next few days, Spencer continued to take care of you, ensuring you were comfortable and had everything you needed. He brought you meals, kept you hydrated, and even managed to make you laugh with his quirky sense of humor.

One evening, as you were starting to feel more like yourself, you looked over at Spencer, who was sitting next to you, reading a book. "You know," you said, "I've always known you were smart and caring, but.. the way you take care of me… I love you."

Spencer looked up from his book, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I love you too. I'm just glad I could help. You mean the world to me, and seeing you like that... it was hard."

You reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Spencer leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "You don't have to thank me. Just promise me you'll always let me take care of you when you need it."

"Promise," you whispered, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the fever.

[sovasleepy]

books and bonsai

[ omen x gn!reader ] - you both have your separate hobbies, but omen seems to love yours just as much as you do

tags: just fluff. reader loves books and reading (implied that the current book is fiction but i tried to keep it ambiguous)

notes: requested by @krokrux ! i hope you enjoy :)

“eccentric” and “extroverted” were probably not the best words to describe omen. he was a man of few words, and often times simply a man of several low growling noises.

not to say that you hated those things about him. not even remotely. it was refreshing, really.

it’s no secret that the hustle and bustle of days spent living at kingdom headquarters were… a lot. someone was always awake, whether that be a guard or simply a coworker fighting sleep. training was hard and tensions were tight most days. missions were tiring and often ended with several injuries. even the slow days where you could sleep in and training was minimal weren’t easy. there was something about the cold, metal environment of the headquarters that took away the “home” feeling of it.

one place that did make you feel better was the nearest comfy spot to read a book. today, that just so happened to be a sofa in a lounge room. the pillows and cushions were soft, but the back support good and the blankets cozy.

omen sat at a nearby table. he had a little bonsai tree situated in front of him and small pair of pruning scissors in his hand. normally, if someone was already occupying the space, you would have left.

however, omen was quiet and the sofa looked a little too inviting. you could enjoy each others company without disturbing each other, right?

you had been reading for a while whenever omen finally stood from his chair. you’d been a little too engrossed in what you were reading, and it took you a second to blink back to what was actually happening. the phantom took a few tentative steps toward you. he was quiet for a few beats before he finally spoke.

“can i sit?” he asked. one hand made the slightest inclination toward the seat next to you on the sofa.

you nodded and pulled your feet in a little to give him space. “oh, sure. how’s your tree?”

“good. your book?”

“it’s going good, i like this book. although the main character is kinda pissing me off. i know it’s supposed to be a personality trait or whatever but— yeah, it’s a good book.” you stopped before letting yourself go off on a tangent.

there were another few beats of silence. he tilted his head ever so slightly, as if asking for you to elaborate. when you didn’t, he leaned slightly closer and pretended to read the words on the page, although he wasn’t paying much attention.

“tell me.” he said, leaning back to where he had been before and looking over to you expectantly.

“tell you what? about the character?”

“the book.” omen said. “you seem to like it.”

you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. you would jump at any chance to tell someone about whatever book you had read or read about that day, but the offer being laid out to you sparked a warmth in your chest.

you weren’t sure how long you had been talking, but it had to have been a while. your mouth was dry, but you had managed to spill out every single coherent (and some incoherent) thought you’d had about the book thus far. and you couldn’t be happier about it, either.

omen hummed when you finished. he didn’t say anything, except mutter a small “thank you,” before collecting his bonsai and leaving the room. you settled back into the spot you had been before, and continued reading.

the interaction had been strange to you, but you tried not to think too hard about it. of all people, omen was one of the last you expected to hold a conversation with, although was it even a conversation? had he even enjoyed it? or did he grow tired halfway through?

in all honesty, you had presumed the latter.

that was until the next afternoon, anyway. you heard a small knock on your bedroom door, and padded over to open it. in the hallway stood omen, bonsai tree and pruning scissors in tow.

“hey,” you smiled. “what’s up?”

“can i…” he trailed off for a moment while he thought of what to say. then, he held up his bonsai tree and nodded towards it, indicating he was referring to it. “…and you tell me about your book?”

it would be a while before you realized that he wasn’t actually pruning his bonsai most of the time. you weren’t sure how often they needed to be trimmed, but it definitely wasn’t every day, and not for that long. you wondered if he give up the farce and just admit that he liked listening to you talk about something you enjoyed, but you supposed it didn’t really matter. if he wanted to pretend to prune his tree just to listen to you, you weren’t going to complain.

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Please be naked - Matty Healy

A/N: remember when i said i was done? false. @awellposhmagazine you sweetheart ilysm and i hope u dont die. @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff thank u for your slave labour in finding the lyric for this fic xx

wc: 4.5k

content warnings: smut, fluff, use of sex toys (butt plug, strap), pegging, edging, exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, degradation but in a sweet way, praise, face-sitting, restraint (she holds him down), teasing, lots and lots of condescension, begging, the return of the little red kia, it gets weirdly poetic towards the end, two kinky knobheads in love

Matty was bold, always has been. Personal boundaries? Shame? Embarrassment? All foreign concepts to him. Evident in the way he spoke before he thought, blurting out strings of words that didn't even make sense most of the time. His behavior was no different, always going for the shock factor whenever interacting with you. 

Which is why you were now standing in the middle of your shared bedroom, eyes flicking between him and the small, plastic device in your hand. He had strolled into the room awfully giddy, topless and grinning at you wildly, holding something in the palm of his hand, stopping right in front of you. You raised your eyebrows as he pressed the remote against your chest, it taking you a while to recognise it. 

Eyes widening and staring at the object, you looked back at matty who had this mischievous glint in his eye, obviously plotting something. Your words caught in your throat when you tried to speak, struggling to form coherent sentences. 

“Is this-?” you try to confirm that he was, in fact, standing in front of you with a buttplug in his arse. Matty wasn't shy, nodding his head slowly as it clicks in your head. It wasn't an impulse purchase, per se, just a surprising one. Matty had gone back to that same sex shop multiple times, even making friends with the owner (because of course he would), purchasing a multitude of odd toys to ‘gift’ to you. But only one of them genuinely took you by surprise: a black buttplug, holographic shimmers decorating the base.   

“Yeah.” he breathes, squirming around on his spot, running his fingers through his freshly washed hair. You choose your next words carefully. 

“And you-” Maybe he was taking the piss? A cruel joke, but you wouldn't put it past him.

“I’m wearing it.”

“But- we’re about to go-”

You cut yourself off, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. The two of you had made plans with your mates, agreeing to meet up at a sort of bar-restaurant thing that had recently opened a few blocks down from your house. Was this really the best time to pull a stunt like this?

“I know. I want you to do it while we’re out.” he takes a step closer, brushing his fingers against your waist, refusing to touch you properly. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, and you try to breath steadily, composing yourself

“I want you to make me moan in your ear while our friends watch.” 

You had always had this sneaking, sneaking suspicion about your boyfriend and his penchant for attention. His loud and pretentious manner drew people in, watching him with a certain look in their eye that he absolutely relished in.

You're snapped back to the present moment as he turns on the heel of his foot, walking towards the door and away from you. He’d closed it on his way in out of pure habit, not realizing the precarious position he had put himself in. 

Your body moved a bit quicker than your mind, hand making contact with his lower back as you forced him forward against the closed door. He yelps as his cheek smushes against the cool wood, muffling his gasps as you feel him up from behind.

Your hands run up his bare chest, catching his pierced nipple between two of your fingers, tweaking it harshly.

His breathing speeds up as you grind against his arse, pressing your body flush against him and in turn, pressing him up against the door even harder. His skin is smooth under your touch, goosebumps breaking out wherever your fingertips danced, a small sigh of satisfaction leaving your lips. 

“Think you can just order me around? Have me do whatever you want?” your voice is low in his ear, your free hand running over the controls of the remote you were holding. This sudden change of pace makes Matty’s head spin, disorienting him right when he thought he had bested you, leaving you speechless. You tap the device against his hip, feeling him twitch slightly at the sudden pressure.

“I’m going to make you regret it. Wish you never gave this pretty little thing to me.” you coo into his ear, condescension coating your words. 

The click is soft, but his reaction is anything but. Matty, always so sure of himself, had bought one specifically designed to directly stimulate the prostate when inserted, the vibrations only amplifying the sensation. His knees weakened under him, the only thing holding his body up being the weight of yours pressing him up against the door.

Turning the toy off, you sigh and let him go, making him fall to the floor at the sudden loss of support. He yelps as his knees hit the hard floorboards, eyes darting up to meet yours while he tries to steady his breathing, willing himself to not get hard.

“I’ll be downstairs.” you say, and he can only nod in response, scrambling to get up and finish getting dressed, the plug shifting inside him with every move he makes, small groans spilling from his parted lips. 

It takes longer than usual for Matty to finish up, meeting you at the front door dressed in the same jeans you had left him in, paired with a yellow t-shirt, slightly too small for him. You chuckle at the sight, a small sliver of skin being revealed by the too-short fabric. 

The place was a short walk away, maybe ten minutes if you walked fast. It saved Hann the pain of having to drive and pick you up, whining about the cost of gas and how his car wouldn't be able to take much more if he was constantly chauffeuring the two of you around (you find he was overreacting a bit, but it is his car).

The process of putting on your respective shoes is done in silence, the tension thick in the air as you take your keys off the hook, stuffing them into your pocket. Matty was right behind you, fastenting the straps of his boots, the clanging metal impossibly loud in the echo of the foyer.

Sun hits your face the moment you step outside, welcoming the comfortable warmth it brought with it, a soft breeze blowing through your hair. The click of your shoes against the pavement was even, the road fairly empty as you walked, hand in hand, Matty’s fingers tightly clasping yours. 

The restaurant/pub was more Ross’ aesthetic, the earthy, wooden exterior not really what you were used to. You could feel Matty speed up as you neared the entrance, excited to finally see his mates again, have a drink and talk shit. Your hand moves away from his, gently settling on his lower back, stopping him in his tracks as he grasps the door handle, about to pull it open. 

You bring your lips to his ear, his hair slightly in the way, curls brushing against your face lightly.

“You going to behave?” you whisper, warning him. His smirk tells you all you need to know before he even opens his mouth to speak.

“In your wildest dreams.” he blows you a cheeky kiss and flings the door wide open, cutting off your retort.

Ross and Hann greet him first, lifting their pints in his direction. His laugh as he sees them is infectious, making you crack a fond smile as they all hug, Matty sliding into the booth next to Ross. George gets up from his chair, pulling you in for a tight hug and saying how nice it was to see you and Matty, pushing a french martini in your direction.

“I could kiss you.” you say, bringing the glass up to your lips, taking a grateful sip. George chuckles, his deep voice oddly comforting.

“No need, pretty sure Matty would stab my eyes out.”

“What would I do!?” Matty yells at him, only catching a small part of his sentence, too engrossed in his storytelling to listen to his answer. You wave your hand in dismissal, turning your attention to Matty’s story, a detailed recount of his first kiss. 

How he got to that topic within ten minutes of entering the joint was beyond you, but you listened, laughing at the gross descriptions of the girls lips, using way too many adjectives Ross didn't even know existed. 

The remote is heavy in your pocket, burning a hole into your skin as an idea pops into your head.

He chats animatedly, his voice loud and booming, so unmistakably him. 

“Genuinely tasted like sand, nearly impossible to get any real acti-” you cut him off by clicking the toy on, his eyes immediately widening at the sensation. He chokes a bit, his words coming out weird and in bits before he decides to try and cover it up with a cough. The guys give him a weird look and you play along, raising your eyebrows at him. 

“Alright, Matty?” Ross asks, taking a sip of his pint at the sudden, awkward silence. You grin at him, turning the vibrations down a bit so he could speak.

“Everythings good, just got a fucked throat.” he smooth talks his way out of it, glaring at you from across the table as the conversation shifts.

You continue toying with him, playing with the remote mindlessly as the minute tick by, another round of drinks being bought by Hann. Whenever he goes to speak, you make a point to turn the vibrations up, even if only a little bit, just to watch him squirm in his seat, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Mate, you look wrecked. Sure you're okay?” Hann presses a paternal hand to his head, checking his temperature. Matty was flushed a bright shade of pink, a look of pleasure on his face only you could truly recognise, having seen him in this exact position a thousand times. Yearning, begging, willing to do anything just to finally have some relief.

“Y-yeah sorry, I must've caught something.” he forces out, a slight edge to his voice as you eye him, catching a suspicious glance from George next to you.

“Go home then, I'll even drive you back.” he offers, earning a groan from the other two men. Apologizing, you offer to buy everyone a round on you as a peace offering for leaving early. Hann promises to come back after, not letting Matty’s little bout of illness ruin a perfectly good outing. If only they knew.

He’s a bit sick I reckon, nothing a good rest cant fix.” you move to get up, brushing off your jeans as you shuffle out of the booth, watching Matty closely.

“Dickhead.” he mutters as he passes by, being led to the car by Adam. You grin from ear to ear, taking your revenge.

“Watch it, sweetheart.” you click the vibrator on higher, making his knees buckle and he falls into your arms, a look of betrayal, mixed with undeniable pleasure, evident on his face.

“Jesus, Matty, let's get you home.” you mutter, your voice one of faux-concern as you stroke his hair, half carrying him to the car.

The car ride is oddly quiet, Hann making casual conversation as Matty curls up in the backseat, knees to his chest, feigning illness. The radio plays softly in the background, some country stuff that was popular.

“No music commentary today? Pretty sure this is Taylor Swift.” you chuckle at your mates words, watching Matty’s reaction in the rearview mirror. 

“She’s fit.” His voice is slightly raspy, teasing as he makes eye contact through the reflection, almost as if challenging you. You roll your eyes, a prick of jealousy bubbling up inside of you.

“Not as fit as my girl though.” he adds, making Hann groan in disgust.

“I don't need to bear witness to your weird flirting. It's bad enough having to watch you drunk snog every week.” 

Even though you tried to keep your affection to a minimum around the guys, with alcohol being thrown into the mix it was impossible to keep your hand off each other. The brick wall of the alleyway behind the bar had seen a lot of makeout sessions, and more often than not, Hann or George would walk out for a smoke right when Matty was shoving his tongue down your throat.

“Why do you watch us? Might be a sign, mate.” Matty mumbles, kicking the back of the driver's seat aggressively, making it shake.

“I hope you choke.”

“So does she.” he sniggers, wiggling his eyebrows at an exhausted Adam, at his limit with Matty’s bullshit for the day.

“Ugh, please stop.” 

You wave goodbye to him and walk up to the front door, unlocking it swiftly as Matty trails behind you, legs weak and barely holding himself upright as the toy buzzed inside of him. He lets out a string of gasps as you turn it up, clicking a total of two times with an intention to overwhelm him. 

“What's wrong, love? Too much?” you ask, cupping his face with your left hand. His eyes are glazed over, tears threatening to spill as pleasure radiates through his entire body.

“F-fuck me, jesus thats high.” he pants, chest heaving as you grin, satisfied.

“You picked it out.”

“Not to be used against me.” he shoots back, slowly getting used to the sensation, his mind clearing enough to speak properly.

“And whose fault is that?” you press your lips to his in a chaste kiss, the weight of you against him driving him insane, getting lost in your touch. Pulling away suddenly, you put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“Fuck you-” he cuts himself off with a choked moan, his hand twitching as he attempted to stand up straight.

“Go upstairs and wait nice and pretty for me, yeah? I'll be right there.”

He moves faster than you expect, stumbling up the stairs in the direction of your shared bedroom, his footsteps heavy.

You know exactly what you want to do, the whole day building up to this exact moment. Gathering a few items from a certain box that lived on the shelf in your living room, simple and unassuming, you follow his path, peeling off your shirt as you walk, discarding it somewhere in the hallway.

Matty is naked on the bed when you enter the room, back slightly arched as the plug pressed up against his prostate, his cock hard and aching, leaking all over the sheets. Your heart skips a beat when he smirks at you, his hair thrown carelessly over his face curls obscuring a small part of it.

“No strip-tease today?” he shakes his head, smug expression wiped from his face as his eyes fall on your chest, clad in only a simple, black bra.

“Can’t fucking- please darling, please I need you so bad.” he whimpers, hips bucking upwards as you dangle the remote in front of him, kneeling onto the bed between his legs.

You look up at him with an innocent expression, eyes wide as you watch him squirm, so desperate for your touch it made him dizzy.

“What do you want from me?” you whisper, the edge to your voice making Matty still. Obviously, he was expecting more of a fight, more begging, more effort. You were in a different sort of mood today, much to his delight. 

“Sit on my face, make me earn it, please. Wanna taste you on my tongue, make you feel so good.” he moans, the toy making him see stars behind his eyes. Matty’s in a daze that only happens every so often, his cocky and arrogant demeanor nowhere to be seen. Instead, it's replaced by a look of utter devotion, willingness to give up every fiber of himself to you, hand over his mind, body, and soul, placing it carefully in your hands.

“So eager.”

“Only for you.”

His cock twitches against his stomach as you peel off your jeans, your panties quick to follow suit, gone in a pile on the floor. Eyes trained on you, he watches how you shuffle upwards, glistening cunt hovering over his mouth in anticipation. His hands come up to grip your thighs, attempting to pull you down onto him, your resistance making him frown.

“I don’t want to crush you.” you murmur, a small moment of weakness in a situation where you held all the power. He looks at you confused before reassuringly shaking his head, running his fingers over your cunt, making you gasp in pleasure.

“Please.” his voice cracks, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine at the simple word.

Lowering yourself onto him, he tugs you completely onto his mouth, not letting you hover. The room instantly fills with your moans, the sounds bouncing off the walls and going straight to his cock, beads of precum spilling from his tip.

The toy buzzes against his prostate, making him whimper against your cunt as you play with the settings, never letting him get used to it before switching it up. His tongue laps at your clit, sucking it between his lips, creating a delicious suction he knew made your mind go blank. You grab onto the metal bed frame for stability, back arching as the pleasure between your legs took over your entire body.

You hear him whine beneath you, the pressure of the plug getting to be too much, his hips bucking wildly for any sort of friction, being met with only air. The obscenity of his actions only spurs you on, filthy words falling from your lips as your orgasm rapidly approaches.

“So good for me, eating me all messy. Like it when I tell you how good you're being for me?” you breath, words broken up by gasps of pleasure as he draws figure eights on your clit with his tongue. His curls stick to his forehead, the room stinking of sex and his fucking perfume, clinging to his skin like some kind of sex pollen.

“Fuck, i’m so close, please make me cum.” you breathe, looking down to rake your eyes over his face, being met with a blissed out expression as he shoves his way inside of you, tongue stroking your velvety walls.

“Oh fuck, fuck, right there just keep doing that.” he lets you grind against his face, licking a thick stripe over your folds, making you shudder as your climax hits you like a freight train, pleasure crashing over you in mind numbing waves, your legs clamping around his head.

It takes you longer than normal to catch your breath, your skin sticky with sweat as you pant, shuffling down his body to settle on his hips, his cock grinding against your arse from behind.

“So good, love the way you clench around my tongue.” you cringe, screwing your eyes shut at his choice of words. You flush a deep shade of red when he winks at you, licking his lips provocatively, refusing to break eye contact.

“You're so filthy, can you at least try to use metaphors? Christ.”

“Nah, much better seeing you blush for me.” an exasperated sigh leaves your lips, looking unimpressed by his attempt at a flirt. You’d believe he was only joking, purely messing around if it wasn't for the way his cock leaked onto the sheets, twitching at every vibration of the toy inside of him.

“God, your ego is huge.”

“Not the only thing that's huge.” jesus.

“Oh, fuck off, honestly.”

“Only if you promise to fuck me first.” his tone changes, and you know he’s deadly serious.

His eyes flicker over to the strap laying innocently on the bed, silently begging you to have some sort of mercy.

“Did it feel good, almost having the guys catch you?” you ask, lowering your voice as you reach for the toy, your movements excruciatingly slow. He shuffles under you, one of his arms lazily resting behind his head, trying to appear lax.

“Felt even better seeing you watch me, trying to get me to react.” you giggle, his words ringing painfully true.

The whole point of playing with the controls was to see exactly what made him squirm, moan against his glass and attempt to cover the whole thing up with a cough, eyes desperate to find yours as you chatted to George, pretending to be blissfully unaware of his little predicament.

“You did, didnt you?” of course he did, how could he not?

“You try having a massive plug pressed up against your prostate for an hour.”

“Youre so vulgar, fuck's sake.” you groan, pressing a hand to your forehead in disappointment. You loved him, but Matty’s choice of words was incredibly unsexy at times, ruining the mood.

“Just-” he starts, cut off by his own gasp, the toy shifting inside him slightly, hitting his G-spot with jarring accuracy.

“What?” you tease, narrowing your eyes at him as he flushes a deep crimson, the blush spreading from his face down to his chest, making your heart skip a beat.

“Just- fuck me, i’ve been ready for you since-” he yelps when your hands find his waist, maneuvering him onto his stomach, quite aggressively at that. His face is pushed into a decorative pillow, muffling his sounds of protests, much to your delight.

“Since?”

“Since you pressed me up against that door.” he mumbles, rutting against the mattress, an attempt at some kind of relief, having spent the better part of two hours right on that edge, nothing substantial to push him off it.

“Really? Must’ve been pretty painful, walking around hard where our mates could see you.” You think back to Ross’ weird look. Matty had already let slip that he told him more than was necessary, the thought making you shudder. Imagine if he knew the actual reason you had left in such a hurry, desperate to get home to ‘nurse Matty back to health’.

“Please, darling, I'm so ready for it, just let go. Fuck me so dumb I cant think. I deserve it.” he moans, pressing his hips towards you, arching his back. You catch a glimpse of the plug, the sight making your heart speed up, thrumming against your ribcage as you fumble with the strap, using his little ramble to slip it over your hips, tightening the clasps.

“You deserve it, do you?” your mouth is right against his ear as you lean over him, pressing the tip of the flush against his arse. The remote is abandoned on the other side of the bed, too out of reach for you to turn down the toy, leaving Matty helpless and twitching, the pleasure being just too little to make him cum. He lets out an infuriated groan when you chuckle, the bed creaking as you get comfortable on your knees.

“What you deserve.” you whisper into his ear, hearing his breath hitch at the proximity. “Is to be fucking destroyed.” he gasps, feeling your fingertips ghost over the base of the plug before slowly slipping it out of him, leaving him empty and wanting.

“Please.” The word is small, miniscule as he trembles under your touch, his body limp against the mattress. 

You take your time, pressing the tip of the strap against his entrance, teasing him until he jerks under you, his voice high pitched and exhausted, yearning for any kind of relief. Brushing his hair out of his face, you grab his jaw, making his neck crane to look at you. His eyes are wide, an insatiable hunger evident in them.

Sultry moans spill from his lips as you press inside of him, barely giving him a moment to breathe before thrusting out, setting a fast-paced rhythm as he writhed against you, grinding back onto the strap like his life depended on it.

“Fuck, thats so good, oh my- yesyesyes.” he whines, hands moving down to grip his cock. You catch him before he does, pinning his wrists above his head as you relentlessly drill into him, drinking every noise he makes.

“So deep, shit. Fuck me, god- harder.” your stomach flips, the sound of him begging you to take him even harder making you feel dizzy with power. He groans against the pillow when you speed up, one of your hands gripping his waist for leverage, hitting his prostate with scary accuracy.

“Harder, yeah? I’m going to take you apart bit by bit, love, make you scream my name until your throat is actually sore.”

“Feel how good I fuck you? Reduce you to little pieces at my feet where you belong.” you're drunk with power, Matty’s twitching and desperate frame beneath you sending you to another plane of existence, making you believe that if there truly was a heaven, this would be it.

“I’m yours, fuck- all yours- Please, don’t stop.” his eyes water at the force of your thrusts, and you feel him shake at the strength of his impending orgasm. You reach down his mouth at his neck, biting down hard, littering his neck with deep, aggressive bruises that you knew would last for days to come, if not weeks.

"You make me feel so good." he mutters, and you feel a sense of pride swell up inside of you. 

“Cum for me, love, please, I wanna see how good I make you feel.” his muscles tense under your grasp, arms flexing under the skin of his tattoos. 

“I’m so close, please don't stop, fuck, I love you so much.”

You love him too. It's all you could do, show him how much you loved him, how much he occupied your every thought and action. Everything depended on him, nothing existing without the knowledge that he was by your side, giving your life true, veritable meaning.

“So good for me, Matthew. Let go, feel it, let it consume you.” he frantically grinds against the mattress, chasing his high as you whisper dirty words into his ear, encouraging him.

“Oh god- just- fuckkk.” he finally cums with a cry of your name, hips bucking up against your strap as he heaves, sputtering and moaning uncontrollably

“So pretty when you cum, fuck, love it when you scream my name, love.” he goes limp as spurts of cum spill onto the sheets, his thighs tensing at the sheer intensity of his orgasm, eyes screwed shut with bliss.

Your hand releases his wrists, soothing raking your nails over his back, bringing him down slowly, not wanting to overwhelm him.

“You’re perfect, my gorgeous boy.” you coo, peppering kisses down his bare skin, licking at the harsh bite marks from earlier, blooming on his neck.

“Yeah, m’yours darling, all yours.” he mumbles, hazy from his climax, mind still foggy from the pure pleasure he had experienced. You slip out of him, watching how he clenched around the toy, as if trying to keep you inside of him.

“I love you.” you whisper, hugging him tightly from behind.

“I love you too, now get down here.” he violently tugs you down next to him, cupping your face in both hands, still trembling slightly. A genuine smile spreads onto his face as he kisses you gently, enjoying this tender moment of vulnerability between the two of you, wanting it to last forever. The two of you giggle into each other's mouths, giddy and relaxed, at peace.

“I love you.” he rolls his eyes playfully, grinning against your lips.

“You already said that.”

“I know.”

[deppiet]

About the yassification of GO2.

Warning: the following text is highly critical of the second season of Good Omens. If you enjoyed it, I am happy for you, and a non-negligible amount of jealous as well. Please scroll past before I inevitably rain on your fandom parade.

So, I did the thing. I binged the entire second season of what was, up to now, my favorite show ever, in one sitting. And I have a great deal of things to say, but hardly any of them is positive.

Let me start by saying that I don't mind the cliffhanger or the melancholy ending, like at all. In our era of Marvel apologists and the instant gratification culture, it is necessary for media to persevere and add nuance to romantic relationships. That said, what transpired during the six hours leading up to this sort of unearned climax hardly contains anything remotely close to nuance.

Who are these people? I don't mean the new characters, all of them written as cardboard-cut anthropomorphic personifications of stereotypes, yassified to the point of representation losing its purpose and getting in the way of, you know, actual writing. I mean the protagonists themselves, Aziraphale and Crowley, up to now my favorite characters in the entire world and -up to now- tangled in a love story so beautiful I had, for better or for worse, devoted a large part of my creative output on it, making art, songs, and metas on why what those two entities had was as close to perfect as anyone can hope to find for themselves.

These are not the characters I knew. The characters I knew spent hundreds of human lifetimes revolving around each other in a treacherous yet familiar dance- they both knew the love was there, it was comfortable like an armchair that has taken the shape of the body using it for years. They argued the way old couples do, and of course, like all fictional beings that are counterparts of one another, had differences to settle, but what stood in their way wasn't misunderstanding or miscommunication, in was their fear of Heaven and Hell, and their fundamentally different approaches on how to keep each other safe.

What is all this teen angst? This will-they-won't-they silliness that lacks any nuance, thematic coherence, or literally even trace amounts of understanding of the source material? Where is the dark humor, the quotability, the chaotic overarching plot, the self conscious camp? The season is so cynically written to cater specifically to a certain part of fandom, that I am losing respect for the original work- because if Neil Gaiman doesn't care for these fictional beings, and he evidently doesn't, why should I?

The thematic core of what made Good Omens what it was, had always been the "Love in unexpected places" trope Sir Terry Pratchett knew how to write so well. It had never been about the fantasy, because Sir Terry wrote satire wrapped up in a supernatural package, it had never been about the romance, because when the ship becomes the end instead of the means, the love rings hollow, like artificial light trying to pass as sunshine. The beating heart of GO lies in its philosophy, in the beautiful notion that the agents of two oppressive systems at war have more in common with one another than with their respective oppressors. That being a nobody, a mere cog in a larger machine, says more about said machine than it does about you, and that you can try to break free and build a life for yourself, where a happy ending looks like a dinner at the Ritz with the one you love most.

Shoehorning an underdeveloped "romance" between Beelzebub and Gabriel not only feels like bad fanfic (disclaimer: I like the ship and feel like it could have worked if developed in any capacity, and presented in a more humorous and character-appropriate way. I hate with passion how much they watered down Beelzebub in order to make them stereotypically romanceable, adding the Ineffable Bureaucracy to the ever-expanding list of characters I don't care about anymore.) but also, it muddles and grossly undermines the thematic raison d'être of Ineffable Husbands. If the ramifications for defecting and fucking off with the enemy were a slap on the wrist for the respective leaders of both sides, well surely the system can't be that oppressive after all. And if fear of the oppressive system wasn't, after all, what kept these beings apart, surely these two entities don't like each other as much as we thought. Or rather, one is reduced to a lovesick puppy and the other to a brainless husk of a character, a plot device, a means to go from place A to place B without spending much brainpower on the logistics.

And if these two new people got to kiss I care not, for they are not the same people I rooted for (props, though, to the actors, who gave, somehow, an almost Shakespearean gravitas to their love affair, underwritten and dumbed down as it was. They both love the characters, and it shows in the minuscule yet brilliant ways in which they added nuance where the script had none.)

What was that thing with the lesbians about? Though straight passing, I have always known myself to be attracted to women as well as men, and I am always highly suspicious when an "ally" writer (see: straight, no shade to straight people among which I live because they are, like, the majority) decides to make all characters queer, in the face of real-world statistics and despite NOT being queer themselves. When a person like Nate Stevenson does it they get a pass because writers self-insert and because, when done well, it can carry a message of equality. But when the ally writer does it, unless it is pitch-perfect, I am forced to examine the possibility of them being calculating about it and trying to score representation points, often because they need the rep as a fig leaf to cry homophobia behind when people start complaining about the atrocious plot.

Nina and Maggie were boring. They had no personalities, no cohesive backstories, nothing to make us understand what they are to one another and to the overarching plot ("plot" is used loosely here, for there was no plot: the series ended where it should have started, with six hours of -progressively more offensive to my intelligence- fanfic tropes in a trenchcoat serving as the, well, "plot"). I didn't care whether or not they'd end up together, because I have no idea who they are. The blandness of the dialogue had the actresses, both very talented as evidenced in the first season, grasping at straws with what little characterization they were left to work with, and the "ball" was so unbelievably bad a plot device no amount of suspension of disbelief was ever going to make it right.

The minisodes, though at parts clever and philosophical, felt out of place. This was another narrative choice I had to raise my eyebrows at, because it felt like a bunch of executives sat around a table and watched Neil Gaiman's powerpoint presentation of what made Season 1 financially successful. They were shoehorned in, largely irrelevant to the, eh, "plot", and most of them lasted far more than I personally deemed welcome, or necessary.

What else is there to say? The wink-winks and nudge-nudges to the Tumblr nation? The in-your-face Doctor Who reference? The narratively myopic choice to make Crowley a former archangel? The cheese dialogue, not one bit of which was quotable?

I am distraught. I am grieving an old friend, and a part of my fandom life I cannot, in good faith, return back to after this gross betrayal. I am happy for those who don't see it, because I wish I could love this season past its flaws. However, the writing isn't simply mediocre, it is irrevocably, immeasurably, undescribably bad, so bad I am shocked to my very core, so bad I find it offensive to Sir Terry's memory and everything his own creative output was lovingly filled with.

I am passing all five stages of grief and very much doubt I will return to this fandom. I loved the original story and the characters with all my heart- now the aforementioned heart is broken, not by the breakup or anything as pedestrian as cheap romantic tropes. But because my old friends, my family of fictional beings, are no longer the ones I loved and could relate to.

Deppie out.

[smells-like-mettaton]

Happy birthday @carlyraejepsans!! Small birthday fic for you!!!

Word Count: 1 123

Rating: G

Summary: Papyrus and Mettaton enact an explosive plan to get Sans and the Queen together.

XXX

“Are you sure this will lead to an explosion of romantic feelings?” Papyrus whispered to Mettaton in their hiding spot behind a conveniently-shaped shrub. 

The convenience was artificially-created—he had been the one to trim this particular hedge in the shape of himself and Mettaton—but that was okay. Sometimes these things needed a little artificial flavor, or nothing would ever get done! 

He hoped Queen Toriel liked the artificial flavor of bombs. 

“Darling, nothing is more romantic than missile toe!” Mettaton replied, holding a long pair of binoculars to see through the hedge. “Just wait. This program hasn’t even started yet!”

Papyrus scooted closer, pressing one eyesocket to half of the binoculars. It gave him a pretty good view of his brother and the queen standing beneath one of the garden’s arches, where Sans liked to hang out and pick water sausages for his “illegal” hot dog stand. Mettaton had forged a note in Sans’s handwriting, and Papyrus had set up the missile toe—a tarsal-and-bomb combo Mettaton said was a hit on the surface—to create the most romantic atmosphere possible. Surely it would blow through Sans’s aloof exterior and compel him to confess his true feelings!

“Hey, Tori.” Sans hid a bundle of water sausages behind his back. Papyrus wasn’t sure why he bothered, since they both knew Toriel knew what he was doing with them. “Water you doing here?”

Papyrus suppressed a groan. Sans was never going to get anywhere with abysmal puns like that! It was a good thing he had such a brilliant brother looking out for him!!

Toriel laughed, though, because she was absolutely smitten by Sans’s slime-emitting charms. Somehow. 

“Oh, nothing mulch.” She smiled, her fangs poking out from under her upper lip. Papyrus had caught Sans grinning dopily at that smile more times than he could count. Not that Toriel would be able to tell, since Sans’s expressions were nearly impossible for anyone but Papyrus to read. “I hoped you might be able to tell me.”

She held out the note Mettaton had written. It had told her to meet Sans here for a special surprise. 

“Huh. Any idea who wrote that?” Sans asked, glancing around. 

Papyrus tried to keep his bones from rattling with anticipation. 

“It was not from you?” Toriel frowned. 

“Nope. It’s a pretty good forgery, though. They even got my i’s write.” He held the paper up to the sun lamps in the cavern ceiling, like he was trying to see through it. Mettaton hadn’t hidden any secret messages, though, as far as Papyrus was aware. “Hey, wait a second.”

While looking up, he’d apparently noticed the missile toe. Perfect timing!

“Hit it, darling!” Mettaton said.

Papyrus pressed the remote detonator. 

The bomb exploded with a BOOM of bones and confetti. It was loud, it was flashy, it was perfect! In fact, Toriel was throwing herself at his brother already!!

She tackled Sans to the ground, tarsals raining down on her back. Sans’s face, pinned near her shoulder, went bright blue.

“Are you alright?” Toriel asked him quickly, propping herself up on her palms. 

“Uh,” he said coherently. 

“Ugh, Sans, you’re blowing it!!” Papyrus hissed.

“Let the show go on,” Mettaton stage-whispered. “There’s still time for a grand finale.”

“Not sure about all right, but looks like I’m all left in one piece,” Sans finally said, still lying on the ground. 

“Thank goodness.” Toriel sighed shakily. “Perhaps I should not have disbanded the Royal Guard after all… I never would have expected such a cowardly attack…”

“Heh. I think you’ve got it the other way around.” Sans picked up one of the fallen tarsals. “This has the Royal Guard written all over it.”

“You mean—Papyrus did this?” Toriel’s brow furrowed.

Papyrus cursed. Ratted out by his own brother! Didn’t he have any sense of gratitude??

“Do you not think that is a little far-fetched?” Toriel asked, standing and helping him to his feet. “Perhaps he is being framed. Your brother has no reason to fight either of us. Unless our puns pushed him too far…”

“Nah, he’s not into that kind of pun-ishment.” Sans grimaced. 

“Then why…?”

“Because Sans is incapable of telling you how he feels!” Papyrus burst through the hedge, leaving a Papyrus-shaped hole in the Papyrus-shaped shrub.

“Hey, bro.” Sans sounded tired, and not at all surprised to see him.

“Papyrus?” Toriel gaped.

“And Mettaton!” Mettaton burst through his adjacent shrub.

“And Mettaton.” Sans sighed. “Nice job with the note.”

“Thank you! Having a built-in photocopier comes in handy.”

Toriel pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“What is the meaning of all this?” 

“Romance! Drama! Bloodshed! What else?” Mettaton beamed. “The producer isn’t supposed to be seen on set, but Papyrus made the executive decision to pull back the curtain, so here we are! Ready for our close-up!”

Toriel shook her head, but chuckled.

“Of course… well, that is sweet of you. But, I am afraid your script has an error in it.”

“An error?” Mettaton gasped with a hand to his mouth. 

“Yes. You see, I already know how Sans feels about me.” She smiled.

“You… what???” Papyrus’s jaw dropped.

Sans went pale. Paler than usual, anyway.

“What.”

She rested a hand on Sans’s shoulder.

“I did not want to press you on the subject. I have been alive for hundreds of years. I can be patient.” She gave Papyrus a stern look, and he shivered. “As you should learn to be, as well. It is terribly impolite to force someone to confront their feelings before they are ready.”

Papyrus looked away. He’d just been trying to help! Still, there was no fighting a look like that. He could only hope she decided to spare him.

“I see… My dating handbook must be missing a few pages,” he muttered.

“There was no force involved! Only the romantic catalyst of missile toe!” Mettaton insisted, hugging Papyrus close as if to protect him from Toriel’s glare.

“Missile…?” Sans snickered. “Okay, that’s funny.”

“I knew you would understand!” Papyrus said. Sans always appreciated a good jape!

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t try toe blow me up again. Just ‘cause ya missed this time—”

“UGH!! You are impossible!!! You are lucky the Queen puts up with you!!!”

“I think I do more than put up with him.” Toriel winked.

Sans blushed again. 

“Wonderful! That’s a wrap, darlings!” Mettaton waved with the arm that wasn’t squeezing Papyrus. “No need to thank us. Just order a jar of MTT-Brand Beauty Yogurt™ for your first date, and we’ll call it even!” 

Mettaton engaged the wheels in the heels of his boots and zoomed them away. The sound of Sans and Toriel’s laughter echoed behind them.

That was all the thanks that Papyrus needed.

[seredelgi]

So lonely they coul die.

fandom: Elvis Presley/ Elvis (2022)

pairing: Elvis x Fem!Reader or Austin!Elvis x Fem!Reader

summary: Reader is a good Christian girl whose family has passed when she was 15, she was then raised by her mama’s best friend, Gladys Presley, alongside her son, Elvis.

rating: Mature, 18+

warnings: stepbro!elvis, a bit of angst, a bit of smut, dubious consent, he’s a bit controlling, but he does it ‘cause he’s in denial, reader is pretty much sexually frustrated, kind of innocent, bit of a “good girl” complex, cheating, as in reader cheats on her bf with EP, let me know if it needs more warnings.

word count: 4.3k

a/n: ok this is has been sitting in the drafts for a while because I was too nervous to post it. Also, I have no idea if it will have a part 2. English is not my mother tongue so it may contain errors but hey, I’m learning.

tags: @eliseinmemphis @galaxygirl453 @powerofelvis​

"So... When can I see you again?" he whispers softly while holding your hand in his, looking at you with a charming sly smile, his big blue eyes sparkling languidly in your direction.

You're blushing fervently beneath the arch of your flat's front door, shooting a quick glance towards the kitchen, where Elvis should still be, and then meeting his eyes again.

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, biting your lower lip, pondering if maybe it's a bit early to set up another date.

Mike Weaver's one hell of a guy, that's for sure. You've been seeing him now for about six months, and you can tell he's got it just as bad for you as you do for him. It's in the way he looks at you, in the way he smiles when you're around, and in the revering sweetness of his touch.

Like right now, for example, he's gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb as he waits for your answer. It's the kind of thing that just makes your heart flutter slightly as you try to focus on something remotely coherent to say.

" Why don't you come by tomorrow during my break and we'll set up a date for this weekend?" you murmur.

For some reason, you don't want Elvis to overhear your conversation. It's not like you're saying anything malicious, but still, you've seen how he's gotten with the men you've dated in the past.

This time tho, even he seemed to like Mike.

You have to admit, you were terrified when your boyfriend came up with the idea of this dinner, but unexpectedly, Elvis behaved. He laughed at Mike's jokes, complimented his handshake, and exchanged what seemed to be a genuinely nice conversation about who knows what football team.

You could feel it. He was the one.

After all, you've been dating him for a while now and you're both about the right age to start to think about settling down.

If he'd ask, you know you'd say yes.

" As the lady wishes" Mike grins at you, and if possible, you redden even more than you already had, the circles he's tracing on your hand with his thumb sending little shivers along your arm.

" Alright then, you better go, I still have to clean up that whole mess in the kitchen" you suggest, not sure to be able to take one second of this tension between you two.

" Not even a goodnight kiss?" he pouts, squeezing your left hand ever so gently.

You can't help but chuckle at how cute he looks with his bottom lip sticking out like that, and you cover your lips with your right hand as you turn to the kitchen to check if Elvis might be on the watch.

Coast clear.

You look at your boyfriend again, his lips now perfectly shaping a swooning smile, and you lean in to kiss him briefly, chastely but tenderly.

The sudden contact has your heart racing so fast you know you can't take any more of it, and with a last quick farewell, he makes his way down the hall, leaving you alone with Elvis once again.

Gosh, what a night.

You are in seventh heaven. You've dreamed about a man like this your entire life, and even if you had lost hopes when Elvis seemed to be set on denying your hand to every single last one of them, you find Mike. Mike who made him laugh three times in the course of just one dinner.

You sigh ecstatically, making your way towards the kitchen, still thinking about the brief kiss you two exchanged.

You feel so silly blushing over a peck on the lips, but with the poor amount of experience you've got up until now, it figures.

You know it shouldn't be so relevant, but you really can't wait to be able to be more intimate with him. It's embarrassing how little you've been able to do, but you're simply not comfortable smooching your boyfriend around town, so you two may have properly kissed two or three times now.

You certainly couldn't hope to bring him home, with Elvis and all, and honestly, you weren't even certain you wanted to.

You know what happens when a couple is home alone, and even if Mike seems very respectful about you wanting to wait until marriage, you're not sure you can trust yourself alone with him.

Your mother raised you a Christian girl, a good girl. You believe in the sanctity of marriage and that's why you decided only one man would have you. You were okay with that, until it became unbearably difficult to find one that lasted longer than a few months.

Now, you don't wanna blame Elvis alone for that; some of them simply revealed themselves to be pretty crappy, but the rest, he couldn't deal with for no good reason.

You know you're supposed to make your own decisions, that you shouldn't care what he thinks of your boyfriends, but you love him too much.

You were only fifteen when your parents and your older brother died tragically in a car accident, leaving you in the caring hands of Mrs. Presley, your mama's dearest friend.

Elvis was three years older than you, around the age your brother was when it happened, and he was one of his best friends too. You two were raised side by side since then, and you've always absolutely adored him. Back when you two were little he was your hero, always defending you against anyone that dared to make fun of you.

Before you became part of the Presley family, you were ashamed to admit you had a huge crush on him. You had to force yourself to grow out of it, of course, since you two became practically family.

He turned into a fine man, the best you've ever known, and he probably set your standards way too high for anyone to ever meet them. It also didn't help that he was impossibly protective of you. No one was ever good enough, no one met his expectations.

Maybe you were guilty of giving way too much importance to his opinion on the matter, but for some reason, as soon as Elvis expressed the way he felt about them, they instantly became unattractive to you. You could only see those flaws he pointed out so easily.

You were growing frustrated with the search, and with yourself. You found it was quite lonely at night, having no one to warm you. You wanted to do more than hold hands and kiss once or twice. Hell, you wanted to be touched, to be loved.

So that's the reason you just couldn't stop smiling that night, even while entering the kitchen, finding your so-called "step-brother" having already cleaned the table and standing cluelessly in front of the sink.

Damn, he's always been handsome when he dressed in all black. It made his sparkly blue eyes shimmer even more intensely than they usually did. How on earth he was able to remain a bachelor this long was honestly beyond you.

" Leave it to me" you say while approaching him slowly, your yellow bell skirt brushing swiftly against your ankles.

He stands back, letting you handle the rest of the work.

You really don't mind doing the dishes, you've always found it very relaxing.

" Thanks for handling the rest" you add, shooting him a bright smile.

" 'S okay, it's good to do this stuff once in a while" he jokes, his big smile making your heart flutter for just a second.

He's always had this effect on you, at least since you can remember. You don't think nothing of it, it's just the way he is.

Effortlessly magnetic.

" So is he gone?" he bluntly asks, taking you kind of aback.

" Yeah" you try to hide the blushing you still feel pervading your cheeks as you think of that sweet moment beneath the arch of the door.

Luckily, he doesn't seem to notice.

He's unexpectedly quiet tho, and it's starting to unease you.

You're done with the chores pretty soon, and as you turn around from the washed dishes you find him there, leaning against the wooden table's surface, his feet crossed.

He's lost in thought. You know because his index finger and his thumb are almost nervously playing with his bottom lip, and at that, your brows furrow.

"Elvis, are you okay?" you approach him cautiously, so as not to startle him. Sometimes he got so deep lost you didn't know if his senses would take notice of your presence.

As predicted, no answer.

You chuckle slightly and take place in front of him, bending a little to meet his eyesight. And there he sees you, smiling playfully up at him, your hands clasped behind your back.

" Mh?" he simply goes, raising his chin, straightening up again, and you follow.

" Are you okay?" you tilt your head to the side, confused.

He looks at you so intensely now you're practically squirming in your place, feeling a mixture of concern and discomfort overcoming your previously acquired serenity.

His eyes are so captivating you're suddenly very aware of your proximity to him, but before you can take a step back, he speaks again.

" I don't like him"

Your heart drops in your stomach, your hands fall at your sides, a sigh of exasperation suddenly threatens to let go of your throat.

" What?" you manage to breathe out instead.

He stands up and looks at you, his blue eyes now clear of any residual doubt.

" Mike. I don't like him. You should probably stop seeing him" he says nonchalantly while making his way towards the fridge.

That, he had never said, ever. It was way too much, even for him.

" I beg your pardon?" you raise your voice, a sudden rage getting a hold of you.

You're so shocked you can do nothing much than stand there, wide-eyed, looking at him as he fetches himself a cola, uncorks it, and takes a good fiery sip before putting it down on the counter aside from him.

As he's done, he finally meets your eyes again, even more tranquil than before, or so it would seem.

" He's not good enough for you, honey" he explains, shrugging.

" Well, what a shock" you let out before you could think about a proper response.

But honestly, you couldn't care less. To hell with proper responses, he is being absolutely unnerving this evening.

" What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, brows furrowing, his damn bedroom eyes suddenly looking hurt.

You wish you could've held onto that anger a moment longer, but seeing him staring at you so cluelessly just breaks your heart.

He's not being mean. He genuinely believes you're better off without Mike, that you're too good for him. And as much as his previous words had threatened you to simply let the discussion go downhill, you knew you could reason with him.

So you sigh heavily, recollecting your thoughts to be able to put them into words correctly.

You look at him, your eyes begging him to see reason.

" It just means" you start again, slowly approaching him "that you're very protective of me, and as much as I appreciate it, I don't know if I can go on dating like this without it ever leading to something serious"

You're standing in front of him again, your hand on your heart, hoping he can understand your perspective.

" You mean you wanna marry him?" he asks, sounding surprised, looking vaguely disappointed.

You can't help but smile shyly at that, looking over your shoulder for a second, then back at him " Why not?"

" Well, he's a carpenter"

You roll your eyes amusingly, knowing if he had to resort to that excuse, you were sure he got your point.

" It's a family business, it's all gonna be his someday" you smile " he's got money saved up, he's a smart man, a family man"

Elvis shakes his head.

" That don't mean he's good enough for you"

" But he is" you reach out for him, taking his hand in yours, so close his face hovers right above yours "Oh Elvis, he takes such good care of me"

He looks at your hands, as if surprised you'd get so close to him, then his languid eyes dart back and forth between yours two, and he frowns again, his hand taking a hold of your left one.

This gained proximity has your heart fluttering silently underneath his gaze as you inhale the scent of his cologne.

You gifted him that very fragrance. The year before, while shopping for Christmas gifts, you came across this magnificent scent and instantly thought of him. It suited him perfectly: elegant, yet masculine.

" I take good care of you" he breaths hot upon the skin of your cheeks, squeezing your hand as to emphasize the weight of his words " I can buy you anything you like. Dresses, flowers, jewels" he chuckles as his other hand reaches carefully for your hip "you name it"

This time, it's awfully hard to ignore the wave of warmth his hand spreads within you, but you make no link to it with the sudden quickening of your breaths.

Damn, he's handsome.

Tanned skin, full lips, and the most beautiful pair of sparkly blue eyes you had ever seen. Sure, Mike's weren't bad, but they weren't Elvis's either.

You smile along with him, and he tightens his grip around you ever so slightly, letting your right-hand rest on his chest casually. But not so casually that you don't feel the consequences of it.

The warmth you had felt spreading in your lower abdomen has suddenly lowered, prickling faintly between your thighs.

At that, your smile fades, your cheeks redden furiously, and you gulp nervously.

You had managed to stop thinking about him like this, tried so hard to keep at a distance from him all these years, knowing very well the fine line between what you two are and what you're supposed to be for each other.

He's not your brother, but he's been one for you throughout the years.

And yet you can't stop thinking about the weight of his hands upon you right now, and you suddenly wish they could travel along your skin with less restraints.

Not even Mike had ever been able to awaken such thoughts in your head, not anyone.

You look at him again, trying to regain a shred of your lost focus.

" That's not the kind of care I'm referring to" you admit, lowering your gaze.

And that's all you should let yourself allude to, right at this moment, pressed against him like that, feeling things you should lock away. But your heart is racing faster than ever, and you can't really think straight right now.

" I am a woman now, Elvis. I have needs, I wanna feel loved" you can't seem to look at him while you say this, so when he speaks, you simply feel his breath grazing the skin of your ear.

" I love you"

As you feel a shiver running down your spine, you ask yourself if whatever you're feeling now is right.

Could you ever cross that line without feeling as if you've lost some type of family?

The only one you still had left.

You smile and gain all the strength buried within you to meet his eyes again.

" That's not what I meant" you sigh, looking down briefly before finding the courage to look him in the eyes " I wanna be kissed, passionately. I wanna be touched, and-"

You can't say more, because his eyes have darkened, and somehow it took your breath away, made your heart skip a bit, and your thighs squeeze together.

He squeezes your hand and presses you even closer to him, his warmth spreading within you, his breaths mixing with your own.

" I can do that for you" he purrs upon your skin, so huskily you feel your legs weaken.

But you must have heard wrong.

Whatever you're feeling, it's a fluke, and he cannot feel the same.

" What?" you wished you didn't sound so breathless.

" I can kiss you" he says, leaving no space for misinterpretation.

Your heart misses another beat.

He's playing with you, he's just teasing.

" Elvis, c'mon, be serious" you chuckle nervously.

And even if you shouldn't, some deep secret part of you hopes with all yourself he's not joking. 'Cause right now, looking at his lips, you can't help wondering how they might feel against yours. You can bet they're softer than Mike's, and you desperately wanna find out if you're right.

" I ain't playing with you honey, I'm dead serious" he smiles charmingly and tears his right hand away from yours, reaching for your cheek, looking so deeply into your eyes you can't help but surrender to the moment.

His thumb grazes your lips carefully, parting them as he lowers his gaze upon them, and you wish you had the will to tear yourself away from his arms, to stop the storm that his sweet words had gotten going on in your heart.

You feel like crying,  and yet you don't even think about stopping him as he slowly comes down upon your waiting lips.

" Let me love you" he whispers upon them before you can feel his kiss, humid and gentle, softer than you had imagined, tearing apart every last shred of your resistance.

He kisses you carefully, almost experimentally, as if you could break away at any second.

You've got enough time to adjust to the feeling, and start kissing him back as he holds you close to him.

You shouldn't do this. You shouldn't indulge in this inappropriate behavior, and your hands most definitely shouldn't grip at his shirt so helplessly, silently encouraging him.

At your gesture, he tightens his grip on your hip, as to let you know that he wants you close as much as you do, even if he's being impossibly gentle in his kiss.

You're glad he's doing it because you can't imagine what your heart would do if he only-

His left hand suddenly brushes from your hip to behind your back, and you let a soft, involuntary moan escape your lips.

At that, it's like he awakens abruptly. His grip tightens almost violently around you, he slips his tongue inside your mouth, and you feel it clashing against your own, hot and overpowering.

Gosh, this can't be right.

And yet it feels so inexplicably good it hurts inside.

You fear you've longed for this for too long. That his protective ways, his undivided attentions had awakened an intrinsic need for him you couldn't deny yourself any longer.

At that exact moment, as you began to taste him inside your mouth, you decided you wouldn't resist him any longer. That anything he would have wanted to do to you in that kitchen, you would have let him.

You didn't realize how tense you had been until you melted in his arms, letting him deepen the kiss even further and enveloping his arm around you, backing you towards the kitchen table.

Anytime he parts away from you to catch his breath, you surprise yourself leaning against him, asking silently for more.

" See?" he mumbles in between kisses " I can kiss you passionately"

Anytime he moves an inch of skin against your own, you feel it burning as if it had caught fire.

You realize with shame that you're easy to moan against his lips, feeling an explicable need to let him know you're loving it.

Suddenly he reaches down for the hem of your bell skirt, and you feel his hands traveling underneath its thick fabric.

As a shiver runs down your spine and you let a whimper out of you, you're pervaded by a sudden fear. It doesn't tame the high nor the excitement that his kisses have unleashed within you, but it makes you somewhat more self-conscious.

He's got his hands up your skirt, grazing the skin of your bare legs and thighs, making you feel impossibly hot in your panties.

No one has ever done it. You've never let a man this far before.

" Wanna be touched, hon?" he pants upon your lips, and when you meet his eyes, you feel as exposed as if you were laying naked beneath him.

You can't help but nod in his direction, your nose brushing his, your heavy breaths mixing with his.

Your heart skips a beat, and as he starts kissing your neck, leaving your lips alone for a minute, you realize they're quivering both in excitement and distress.

" I can touch you" he breathes.

You should shove him away. That's what a good girl would do.

A good Christian girl would not let a man grab her ass as he's doing now, wouldn't let him lift her up upon the table, and wouldn't certainly open her legs to welcome him closer, moaning his name in his ear as he bites her neck.

You feel so vulnerable now. Sitting on your kitchen table, your legs open for him, your skirt up your stomach, your panties on full display, and your core just a shred of fabric away from him.

He brushes his hand along your thigh, down towards your centre.

Something inside you knows that if you really wanna put a stop to all of this, here's your chance. 'Cause you know he's going for that spot no one's ever touched, the one you saved for your husband-to-be.

But you're too lost in the fever of the moment, too dazed off to fully care.

However, as his hand lands splayed on your pussy, you whimper, your heart dropping in your stomach.

" Elvis" you mutter, sounding breathless as ever.

He doesn't answer tho, and you feel your heart pounding in your throat as he starts feeling you out through the material of your briefs.

They're soaked. You can feel it. And it's downright shameful that you're letting him know like this. Everything is happening is. It's no ladylike behavior.

How are you ever gonna absolve yourself from all of this?

You call his name once again to try and stop whatever he wants to do, but it comes out so distorted by lust that it sounds like a plead.

He detaches from your neck and meets your eyes, wanting to see what you'll look like as you're being touched for the very first time.

You feel his fingers tasting you through your panties, massaging your entrance, making you feel so flustered and hot you think you could pass out.

He's not even properly touching you and you already feel on fire.

All worries and doubts have escaped your mind, which is simply high on pleasure.

You suddenly feel desperately empty inside.

You've never felt this way, as if your whole life depends on feeling him slide inside of you, filling you up as you know he wants to.

Fuck it. He's too far away.

You wanna close that distance he'd put between you two to be able to look at what he was doing to you. You kiss him in a way you would have never dared to think you were capable of.

You're messy and needy, and you make so many sounds you don't recognize. Hell, you can barely recognize yourself right now. You're blinded by the need of him.

Your hand reaches for the spot where he's massaging you, and as if possessed by this sudden hunger for him, you move your panties out of the way, baring yourself completely to him, ready to feel his blissful touch upon your dripping core.

You've never wanted anything more. You had never thought intimacy would be so terribly frustrating.

And it's even worse when he suddenly stops.

He breaks the kiss and backs away slightly.

You open your eyes to look for his, finding them frozen upon you, wide with horror.

Your heart drops right in your stomach.

The stinging hint of anxiety starts pervading your skin with furious pricking.

" Fuck" he swears, and his head drops down. His right hand, the one that had just given you the best pleasure of your life, now reaches for his forehead, massaging his eyebrows towards the centre.

You're frozen on the spot. Wide-eyed, messy hair falling on your flushed cheeks, and your shoulder strap fallen down your arm, exposing your new baby pink bra.

As you try and focus on what is happening tears start to threaten to run down your face.

He stopped. He realized what you two were doing and stopped himself.

Not you, the good Christian girl whose man just walked out the door; but him, the one who never even liked Mike in the first place.

You're appalled by your behaviour.

You just acted as if you had no control over your instincts, whoring yourself to a man you considered as family.

He steps back and turns around almost fully from you, sighing.

And for an unknown forsaken reason, this breaks your heart into a million pieces.

All of a sudden you feel cold.

" I'm so sorry Y/N" he breathes, his hands still holding at the centre of his eyebrows, eyes closed.

You open your mouth to say something, but you can't. Every word you think of just dies in your throat.

He can't even look at you. He must be so disappointed.

You can't help the tears to start running down your cheeks.

You wanna cry, you wanna hug him out, tell him that you liked it, that you wanted him. That you're not really his sister and he didn't take advantage of you.

But you simply can't.

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Sorta bringing this back from the past, but I just saw the MC scandalous painting ask and was laughing for like 20 mins, I really do hope it makes it in to the story😂😂

Buuut, I wanna ask, how would the RO react to their family members looking at the painting after they (accidentally) left it out

(For the ROs who live alone, maybe their and MC kid?)

Haha, I remember that one. Still one of my favorites!

I am also going to write this under the impression it's at the dating stage of the relationship so that it makes more sense.

Cassandra: Does her absolute best to hide the portrait from her dad, only issue is that her dad, being the military man he is, occasionally does routine inspections around the house to make sure everything is in order and nothing needs to be taken care of before it becomes a problem. This has her moving the portrait periodically throughout the house to avoid him coming across it during his inspections. She considered putting it in a lock box but he would probably ask her whats inside and she is a TERRIBLE liar.

So, when the day unfortunately comes and General Guerrero finds a wrapped up portrait of MC's half naked ass in a broom closet; he is so unamused it's not even remotely funny. Well, for Cass at least.

Because while this might come to your surprise Alejandro actually does have a sense of humor. And make no mistake, he finds MC's audacity and utter stupidity of sending this to HIS house, to HIS daughter sort of funny. He comforts Cass by casually asking why does she even find MC attractive when they look so scrawny in the portrait she hid in a closet. Girly is is embarrassed she can't even form a coherent sentence, she just gets super red and covers her face. He can't help but laugh, he finds her embarrassment, punishment enough for her keeping this thing in her house without telling him.

Can't say he or MC will be laughing next time they meet though.

Valeria: Well, we already know Mrs. Torres saw it.

Valeria is so embarrassed, for MC. It's not like she asked you to do something so stupid knowing full well that she is the youngest of 6 with 5 older brothers and that she still lives with them and her parents. Mrs. Torres is just like Valeria in the sense she can't keep shit to herself, although Valeria manages to keep her shut for all of 4 days which is a pretty decent record. Good thing Val already managed to hide it someplace secret only to her by the time her brothers found out about it. They pester her day and night to see it so they can roast MC next time they see them. (as if they weren't already, idk if I said this already but if you romance Val; her big brothers become YOUR big brothers). Her parents don't really care, her dad didn't appreciate it but trusts his sons will harass MC enough about it, just expects MC to not do it again.

Tomás: He legit has nobody that he would really give a fuck about in his family if they saw the portrait. He isn't embarrassed, he's proud. He would be SO happy if his mom saw it, would rub in how scandalous and just how much of a scoundrel he is with MC. Would get a real kick out of how much she would 'clutch her pearls' at him, literally and figuratively. Would get mad if his brothers saw it because he'd get jealous, probably would punch them or something.

Now if you guys had a kid and they saw it in the future, he would get bashful but tell them not to go poking around his things. No, they cannot ask why he had it hidden in a box under his side of the his bed.

-

Ludovica: Also has no family or anybody to discover it. In the future if she had kids and they found it, she would be mortified. Begs them to forgive her for not hiding it well enough and to forget they saw it. She is unamused when she overhears her staff gossiping about the portrait and how one maid long ago had mentioned it existing and how literally nobody had believed her. Chokes on her spit when her kids ask MC point blank why they were barely wearing any clothes in the picture and if they were cold.

Aurelio: ALSO has no family to uncover it, (omg look at all of these pathetic little orphans, having parents must be a rarity in this world ig).

So, when his kids one day are being a little too nosy in his private study and see his half naked portrait of a young MC hanging right beside his desk labeled "Motivation - 1890" they obviously do the logical thing of screaming for their dad to come to his study. When he does wondering if they got hurt or something they ask him right away why tf he has such a picture displayed there and why is it labeled.

He had responds with something like, "Well, can you blame me for wanting to be productive? Knowing that is but a humble glimpse at what will be my reward when I finish my work, does wonders for my morale. And be grateful your mom/dad looked so great back then or you might not even be here." (He is saying that to tease them, MC still looks great in their older age and he would love them even if they weren't attractive.)

Also adds, "Oh, and it's labeled because that's that years edition of 'motivation'. I made sure I got one every start of the year to keep me honest. New year, new happy little wine drinker me! What? Did you want to see the rest? Or maybe the ones I gave mom/dad? Fair warning, I was wearing even LESS than they are in this picture."

His children then proceed to run out of his study screaming and gagging, he laughs knowing that this will keep them out of his study from now on.

Elio: Okay sort of funny because I actually said in one specific post somewhere Elio actually personally knows Aurelio and I actually think the only person close enough to discover it would be Aurelio. Elio would surprising be shocked if Aurelio found it because he made sure it was well hidden in the attic to avoid MC ever finding out he did actually have it.

He drinks tea and admires it from time to time when MC is away for too long. If Aurelio ever found it Elio would actually be frantic shooing him out of the house and swearing that he will never let him anywhere near MC ever again. Because he knows Aurelio is a charmer and he deep down would feel a little insecure if after he has fallen in love, MC got close to Aurelio and fears he would take them away from him. Even though Aurelio would never do that to him, he can't shake the insecurity and does everything he can to hide it.

Aurelio would want to tease Elio about it but knows it would be a very touchy subject so he shuts up, instead he tease MC next time they have a moment without Elio there. Which might be in a few months when Elio calms a bit and lets his guard down thinking Aurelio might have forgotten or dropped it completely.

---

Thanks for letting me revisit and continue this funny scenario! 💙

[pareidoliaonthemove]

The Question

“Did you even think of us?”

Jeff Tracy had though his heart couldn’t hurt any more than it had for the past however-many-days he had been sat beside this hospital bed.

He had been wrong.

Virgil lay weakly in the bed, his flushed and sweaty face seemed to radiate heat, his limp hair plastered in sweaty strings to his forehead. Fever bright, glazed eyes focused on his father, seeming to recognise the man in the chair beside him for the first time in days.

That recognition should be reason to celebrate.

The question was not.

“Every day, Virgil. I thought of you boys every day –”

“Did you think of us at all?”

Virgil was obviously not hearing his reply, and as Jeff looked again, Virgil’s gaze was directed towards him, but not focused as he had originally thought.

“Why didn’t you take a second to work through the consequences? Because there were so many consequences …” Virgil’s voice faded out as Jeff stared, baffled.

“Consequences?” he asked, not expecting an answer. Virgil remained silent, eyes closed.

They were obviously coming at this from different angles, but for the life of him, Jeff couldn’t fathom what Virgil was asking. He’d spent eight years stuck alone on that rock, with no real hope of rescue, longing for the family half a solar system away. What consequence …?

“One was there. Could have bailed out and remote flew her to intercept.”

Realisation slammed into Jeff like a freight train, dropping his stomach to the level of the basement, while the bitter stale coffee he’d managed to swallow surged up his throat, burning and choking him. The roaring of blood in his ears seemed impossible as his heart convulsed, seeming so squeeze into the smallest possible space in his chest, radiating physical pain in every direction.

The train would have hurt less.

And, perfectly timed to rub salt into his wounds, Virgil opened his eyes. “Did you even think of us? Or was this just an opportunity to be the great hero again?”

“I …” Jeff’s voice failed him, as the door opened and his mother slipped into the room.

“How’s …?” Apparently it was the day for sentences trailing off into nothingness, Jeff thought bitterly. Although, his mother didn’t remain silent for long. There was the sound of fabric rustling, and then she spoke again, “Scott, Virgil’s awake, but not coherent. I need you to come and sit with him, while I deal with your father.”

There was a muffled noise that could only be Scott’s acknowledgement of the instruction, and then footsteps as his mother approached the bed.

“Whatever he’s said, he doesn’t mean it.”

“Oh, he meant it,” the words tasted like bile on his tongue. “He just wouldn’t normally say it.”

There was a soft knock on the door, before it opened, and Scott slid in, still breathing heavily from his flat-out sprint to get here, before firmly closing the door behind him.

“What’s the situation?” Scott asked softly, eyeing both his brother and father.

Jeff smiled wryly. “Virgil’s lost his mind to mouth filter.” The smile dropped. “He … blames me.”

Sally wrapped a comforting arm around her son’s shoulder. “I sincerely doubt it, whatever you think this is about.” She dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Virgil’s very sick with the fever. You know how fever can cause people to hallucinate, say things they don’t mean.”

Scott stepped up. “We’ve been here before, Dad,” he said softly. “Virg …” he sighed. “Fevers really do a number on Virgil. He spouts all sorts of nonsense.”

Virgil stirred again. “Could have prevented so much …” he faded back into sleep. And the very-much-not retired Dr Sally Tracy examined the readings from the bed’s built-in med-scanner.

“He’s condition’s improving, this is just a phase to be ridden out. He’s still disorientated from the hallucinations, and reacting to whatever it is he ‘saw’.”

Jeff wasn’t placated, but he allowed his mother to pull him to his feet, and lead him out the door, Scott taking his place by the bed.

Jeff glanced over his shoulder as the door slid shut, Virgil’s eyes were open again, and his mouth was moving. Jeff didn’t have the heart to make the effort to lip read his son’s words.

Notes:

It’s often said that the real victims of a suicide are the people who are left behind. I know that Jeff’s big damn hero moment wasn’t strictly suicide, but it wasn’t a textbook example of self-preservation, either. So I’m all in for the idea that the boys' grief process was complicated by the same kind of questions that follow on from a suicide.

And that complicated grieving process was always going to complicate ‘the return’.

I don’t subscribe generally to the ‘Jeff is a bad dad’ idea (except in a couple of particularly well executed instances), but nobody is perfect, and sometimes there are no good choices.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[shininjjongg]

What’s left unsaid

Author’s note: Just a lil drabble, haven’t really written anything in years, hope y’all enjoy :)  Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x gn!Reader Word count: 554 TW: uh, none i’d say. I don’t think there is any, if there is feel free to let me know so I can put it up! :) 

Bakugou is the type of guy who will do everything a boyfriend does but never actually say anything that would even remotely resemble a confession. “I like you” he’s sure he will never be able to speak those words out loud due to the huge lump stuck in his throat every time he tries to speak up. “Be my lover” he, in fact, wanted to ask you to be his lover this one time when he got you your favourite flowers and you two went to an amusement park and got some ice-cream but every time he opened his mouth to ask you the big question words never seem to come out of it. And that’s how he ended up in this situation. 

In his mind, you two were dating. Surely, you were smart enough to have realised Bakugou only did those cheesy, romantic things with you and no one else. Aside from that, you two, in his eyes, did everything couples do. He always brought extra lunchbox with the food that he cooked for you, and he never forgot to get you your favourite drink as well. You and him had study dates every weekend, movie dates, you guys went out to get food, to go to arcades, walk, and do all the things couple do. 

However, it never occurred to you that Bakugou could, in fact, have feelings for you. You thought he was being friendly and all the activities you two engaged in had no alternative motives and were strictly platonic. 

Even now, you two were in the shared living room of Class A’s dormitory, sat next to one another and giggling in Bakugou’s shoulder as Kirishima was telling a funny story that happened to him recently. Everything was going smoothly until Kaminari decided to ask the question that everyone else was dying to know the answer to.

“So, y/n and Bakugou, how long have you two been dating?”

The question startled you a bit, you and Bakugou dating? No way they thought you two were together. You shifted away from Bakugou, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. A small blush had appeared on your cheeks as you chuckled and spoke up “We’re not datin-” “It’s been 5 mon-”

You and Bakugou spoke simultaneously, and as the answers of one another registered in your brain, both of you cut your sentence off. You gazed at Bakugou, eyes wide in pure shock as he mirrored your expression. An uncomfortable silence had taken over the whole room, suffocating the two of you. You tried to say something, anything but it seemed impossible to phrase a coherent sentence. And so you watched silently as Bakugou bit his lip in embarrassment and what seemed to be sadness in his crimson cue, unable to do anything. He waited for you to laugh and say that you were joking or that you were just messing with him, but those words never left your mouth. He had no other choice but to get up and leave the room. It was painful enough to learn that he had been living in his delusions this whole time, and on top of it all, everyone else was there to witness it too. 

As he made his way to his room, he looked over his shoulder in hopes that you’d follow him shortly.

[artemisrisen]

chapter 51 musings/impressions

This chapter caused every synapse in my brain to fire off like cannonballs during a battle at high sea. This isn’t anything coherent, just word vomit as I process everything that’s happened. I may go back and edit as I think of more things or decide how to phrase other things better. cut for massive spoilers below. 

By the way, this is fantastic for non-Japanese reading fans because there is barely any dialogue. Just mad, bad, and rad touching, baby

-          The color pages are so ominous. Let’s get this pissed-off parade going

-          I don’t like Doumeki shoving Yashiro like that. With that being said, Yashiro SHOT DOUMEKI IN BOTH OF HIS LEGS and LEFT HIM IN AN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE. Not to mention Yashiro gets him back tenfold (twenty-fold?) in this very same chapter. So I can probably get over it.

-          Doumeki, who hasn’t moved a facial muscle in days, yells at a resisting Yashiro to stop acting like that when they’ve already done it; his expression is nothing like the cold, remote Yakuza he’s role-played as, but pure-cut Doumeki from pre-Sakura days, pre-hospital days: it’s not just anger at all, but desperation.

-          And Yashiro sees it: he realizes Doumeki is truly angry –the angriest he’s ever seen him, he thinks— and the switch is flipped. Doumeki’s indifference has eaten at him throughout the time-skip chapters; no matter how he prods or ingratiates himself, Doumeki seemed to be as unmoved as a mountain. I know there were even readers who questioned if Doumeki still loved Yashiro (which is, you know, absurd.) But now—now Doumeki is furious and it shows all over his face and his actions - and it’s because of Yashiro. Doumeki, who was unreachable, is suddenly right here. You can see Yashiro visibly relax into the ministrations; he pets Doumeki’s hair and even begins to pull the other man’s jacket off, which is shockingly active for him as a participant in sex.

-          Of course, this causes Doumeki to freeze in his angry lovemaking. Because he seems to know that Yashiro will be Pretty Unhappy with the back tattoo – the bridge that cannot be uncrossed, the hope of any reintegration to normal society extinguished. But how upset was he anticipating? Maybe he expected some disgust, or being called stupid, or for Yashiro to roll away and close himself off.  

-          I think it’s safe to say he didn’t expect Yashiro to have a genuine meltdown and proceed to beat the shit out of him with his bare hands. Yashiro’s eyes resemble the same wide, unhinged look when he tried to kill Hirata with a rock –but Doumeki was unconscious then. He’s never seen Yashiro out of control, especially with his emotions. In their first conversation, Doumeki relays that Yashiro “smiles even when he’s mad”, so he knew off the bat that Yashiro hides himself. He’s seen Yashiro kick Nanahara to injury, but there was a distance in that act, like a parent calmly disciplining a child. This rage feels like the child himself is screaming and pounding on the ground to exhaustion.

-          And Doumeki can see it. He lets Yashiro just pummel him right in the face. I think, in this world they’re in plagued with violence, this is as damning as a love confession. If Doumeki’s reaction is anything to go by, which is that after Yashiro exhausts himself, Doumeki cups his cheek and then kisses him full on the mouth.

-          Their pose near parallel to their first kiss, with Doumeki kissing from above with Yashiro’s eyes still wide open in shock.

-          But this time, instead of pushing away, Yashiro meets Doumeki fully: their kissing becomes heated, and it builds until Yashiro is all but sitting in Doumeki’s lap. There’s a frame of a single line of spit connecting their lips and it’s beautiful and filthy and a precursor to the feral sex that’s about to happen.

-          Naturally it ends here, because sensei wants us frothing at the mouth and ripping the upholstery apart for the next chapter as always.

- so what’s next? I think the sex is an absolute given; Doumeki’s hand is already dipping into the back of Yashiro’s pants (and Yashiro jolts / shivers in response) on the last page, so unless Kamiya comes barging in - well, actually, even if he does come barging in, Doumeki is going to use his entire Yakuza Superior Authority and make him leave, so. I think 52 is going to be raunchy as hell, and also sad, and also intense, because that’s saezuru.

- I mean, they’re gonna break the bed, right? that flimsy-ass frame that only holds Doumeki and not a single pound more? they might have better luck on the floor, but somehow I feel like both want to deliberately fuck that poor mattress into the below neighbor’s living room.

- And what happens from here? There’s still an investigation happening; the bad guys are still out there, targeting Doumeki. Yashiro now has to contend with the idea that Doumeki is fully “in”. Will he rejoin the Yakuza despite finally getting one foot out the door? It’s really hard to say. Personally I think they should just move abroad to Hawaii or somewhere and live peacefully and anonymously on Yashiro’s hoards of cash he’s accumulated in the last 4 years.

[springbudeyes]

I hope this doesn't embarrass them too much.

If you're wondering how this is even remotely relevant to Mianite, read to the end.

@robotmothpie is the most wonderful person I've ever met. They say I'm biased, but I wasn't biased when I was first getting to know them several years back—and fell head over heels.

This is just an inky dinky appreciation post for Moth because a proper one would fill a bookshelf. (And somehow, I've never made one until now.)

Moth has saved my life in more ways than I can count. They have often been the fiber that holds our friend group together. They're always going out of their way to be kind, even when the world doesn't seem to give much back.

Moth's example has taught me that love is always worth it. When you choose love and the rewards don't appear, you can be sure that life is preparing something better for you. Keep looking. Keep waiting. Keep doing what’s right. By not giving up, you're turning yourself into a person who's ready for the best life has to offer.

I wish I could give the world to Moth. It's hard sometimes, being long distance and having the financial / career struggles I have, because there's so much I can imagine doing that's just out of reach.

Anyway, Moth reads like a maniac and has become an even better writer than they were when we first met. They ramble passionately (but coherently) about super fascinating fandom lore. They only recommend good media (Wolf's Rain, Transformers, Legally Blonde, Tuca & Bertie, etc...). Their common sense is astounding at times. They make me laugh out loud when I least expect it. They scam me in pet sim games as a love language. They listen to all of my over-wrought ideas and pick out the gems. They've personally lifted my main project, Selah, out of the garbage, dusted it off, and given it new life more times than I can count. And there are so many irl things I want to rattle off, but we ain't about that on Tungl.

Anyway, yeah, if you're glad the Chimalus Mianite of today is still kicking around and making stuff, you have Moth to thank for a big part of that. Maybe someday we'll tell the story of how Mianite brought us together, but that's a whooole other thing.

Thank you, Moth, for everything you are, and I hope you're okay with me using my small internet presence to shout you out, tee hee.

[daisyvisions]

Daisy my love its like 5am and i woke up because a fucking sparrow was yelling ourside my window and saw your post abt requests and im. Pls. If im not late. May I request (We will never speak of this ever again) hyunjae + 10

Iw ill leave b4 my sleep deprived brain gains coherent decision making skills and unsends this mwah

(My my my, fancy seeing you here Adonis 😏 I hope you enjoy the mess I made for you 💕)

All Planned Out

Member & Prompts: Lee Hyunjae (TBZ) + 10. “Spread your legs wider”

Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), Roommate! Hyunjae x Fem! Reader, Use of sex toy (vibrator) Oral (f. recieving), Power play? ish?

Extra content warning: ⚠️ this fic contains a cnc kink (aka coercion) but please know that consent is key ALWAYS. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!

⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆

It was a Friday night, and you were ready to call it a day and get right to your “self-love” routine. You had been preparing for this night for weeks since it was the only time you got a day off from work.

And you made sure it was going to be perfect and according to plan. Bubble bath, lit candles, jazz music, drink your favorite wine, order good take-out, and maybe even use that vibrator you had bought but forgot about over a month ago (yes, because you consider that self-love too).

Everything had been going so perfect, almost everything in your list was checked off except the last segment of the night: using the vibrator.

Just as you were already wearing said vibrator, getting ready to try it out, you hear a doorbell ring. You knew it had been your roommate’s food delivery since you already had yours earlier in the night. You ignored the sound since it wasn’t for you.

Ding… Ding… Ding! Oh my god, where the hell is Hyunjae and why isn’t he answering the door? You decided to put on your shorts and answer it yourself, your vibrator still lodged inside you and the remote on one hand.

“Hyunjae your food’s at the door!” You shout, hoping he’d hear you from wherever the hell we was. As you’re walking down the hall you place the vibrator’s remote on the kitchen counter so you could get the delivery outside.

While you were making your way to the door, Hyunjae emerges from the bathroom just having finished his shower. The moment he got out of the bathroom, he sees an unfamiliar pink device on the kitchen counter. Curious about what it was he decides to walk towards it and hold it in his hand. What the hell is this? He wondered as he pressed the button without thinking.

Suddenly, he heard a strange noise coming from the entrance of the door. Huh? He presses it again and hears the moan once more. He peaks out at the hallway to see you, holding his food delivery but frozen in place.

“Oh, y/n! Thanks for getting me my foo- are you okay?” He raises his eyebrow. Of course you’re not. Your vibrator suddenly moved while you were closing the door. “Yeah I’m f-fine”. It was a real pain trying to walk back to the kitchen and not make a sound.

“Okay, anyway do you know what this is?” You look up at Hyunjae, trying not to make it obvious of what was happening down at your core but your gaze suddenly whipped at the object he was holding.

“Wait Hyunjae don’t touch tha-” he pressed another button again, making the vibration increase in speed. You suddenly grasp the edge of the kitchen counter and let out a loud moan.

The look on Hyunjae’s face was in pure shock, he was practically freaking out on why you had made such a lewd noise so randomly. It took him a matter of seconds to realize that the device he was holding was the reason why you reacted that way, making him grin from ear to ear.

“Since when did you have things like this y/n? hm?” He presses a button once more, making the vibration at its highest setting.

“Fuck- Hyunjae stop!”

“Nah I’m good. I like watching you like this.” giving you an incredibly cocky smile.

“Jae- please! Oh my god!” You try to control your reactions, trying not to egg him on further.

“…and what if I dont?” he responds back. You were starting to feel out of it that you couldn’t even think straight anymore. “Please. Please stop” you plead.

“…Only if you allow me to replace that toy with my mouth instead.” He looks at you dead in the eyes. You knit your eyebrows in confusion and couldn't get any coherent word out of your throat.

“Answer?” He lifts up the remote in his hands, practically waiving it infront of you as he waits for your reply.

“O-okay! okay! Just turn it off!” He follows your plea and presses the button again, shutting off the vibrator. You lean over the kitchen counter, trying to catch your breath. You hadn’t noticed Hyunjae pocketed the remote in his pants and walked right behind you, up until you feel his hard on press against your ass.

He quickly turns you around and lifts you to sit on the counter. He suddenly pulls your shorts off and the vibrator out from your core. You whine at the sudden emptiness inside you. He quickly dives into your pussy, licking one fat stripe between your folds with the tip of his tongue grazing your sensitive bud. You groan as you feel your hips jerk towards him.

“Spread your legs wider.” He commands and you instantly place your feet on the counter, spreading your legs far apart as much as you can while leaning back on your bent elbows with your glistening core fully out on display for Hyunjae. Oh how he wish he could take a picture of you like this right now.

He lowers his head and starts eating you out deliciously, his hot breath and his glorious tongue moving inside you has you seeing stars. “Just so you know-” He pauses to look up at you and you look back at him with hazy eyes,

“You don’t have to use toys anymore while I’m around”. There goes your Friday night plans out of the window.

[lenaspeaksthings]

Please be naked - Matty Healy

A/N: remember when i said i was done? false. @awellposhmagazine you sweetheart ilysm and i hope u dont die. @dh--ii thank u for your slave labour in finding the lyric for this fic xx

wc: 4.5k

content warnings: smut, fluff, use of sex toys (butt plug, strap), pegging, edging, exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, degradation but in a sweet way, praise, face-sitting, restraint (she holds him down), teasing, lots and lots of condescension, begging, the return of the little red kia, it gets weirdly poetic towards the end, two kinky knobheads in love

Matty was bold, always has been. Personal boundaries? Shame? Embarrassment? All foreign concepts to him. Evident in the way he spoke before he thought, blurting out strings of words that didn't even make sense most of the time. His behavior was no different, always going for the shock factor whenever interacting with you. 

Which is why you were now standing in the middle of your shared bedroom, eyes flicking between him and the small, plastic device in your hand. He had strolled into the room awfully giddy, topless and grinning at you wildly, holding something in the palm of his hand, stopping right in front of you. You raised your eyebrows as he pressed the remote against your chest, it taking you a while to recognise it. 

Eyes widening and staring at the object, you looked back at matty who had this mischievous glint in his eye, obviously plotting something. Your words caught in your throat when you tried to speak, struggling to form coherent sentences. 

“Is this-?” you try to confirm that he was, in fact, standing in front of you with a buttplug in his arse. Matty wasn't shy, nodding his head slowly as it clicks in your head. It wasn't an impulse purchase, per se, just a surprising one. Matty had gone back to that same sex shop multiple times, even making friends with the owner (because of course he would), purchasing a multitude of odd toys to ‘gift’ to you. But only one of them genuinely took you by surprise: a black buttplug, holographic shimmers decorating the base.   

“Yeah.” he breathes, squirming around on his spot, running his fingers through his freshly washed hair. You choose your next words carefully. 

“And you-” Maybe he was taking the piss? A cruel joke, but you wouldn't put it past him.

“I’m wearing it.”

“But- we’re about to go-”

You cut yourself off, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. The two of you had made plans with your mates, agreeing to meet up at a sort of bar-restaurant thing that had recently opened a few blocks down from your house. Was this really the best time to pull a stunt like this?

“I know. I want you to do it while we’re out.” he takes a step closer, brushing his fingers against your waist, refusing to touch you properly. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, and you try to breath steadily, composing yourself

“I want you to make me moan in your ear while our friends watch.” 

You had always had this sneaking, sneaking suspicion about your boyfriend and his penchant for attention. His loud and pretentious manner drew people in, watching him with a certain look in their eye that he absolutely relished in.

You're snapped back to the present moment as he turns on the heel of his foot, walking towards the door and away from you. He’d closed it on his way in out of pure habit, not realizing the precarious position he had put himself in. 

Your body moved a bit quicker than your mind, hand making contact with his lower back as you forced him forward against the closed door. He yelps as his cheek smushes against the cool wood, muffling his gasps as you feel him up from behind.

Your hands run up his bare chest, catching his pierced nipple between two of your fingers, tweaking it harshly.

His breathing speeds up as you grind against his arse, pressing your body flush against him and in turn, pressing him up against the door even harder. His skin is smooth under your touch, goosebumps breaking out wherever your fingertips danced, a small sigh of satisfaction leaving your lips. 

“Think you can just order me around? Have me do whatever you want?” your voice is low in his ear, your free hand running over the controls of the remote you were holding. This sudden change of pace makes Matty’s head spin, disorienting him right when he thought he had bested you, leaving you speechless. You tap the device against his hip, feeling him twitch slightly at the sudden pressure.

“I’m going to make you regret it. Wish you never gave this pretty little thing to me.” you coo into his ear, condescension coating your words. 

The click is soft, but his reaction is anything but. Matty, always so sure of himself, had bought one specifically designed to directly stimulate the prostate when inserted, the vibrations only amplifying the sensation. His knees weakened under him, the only thing holding his body up being the weight of yours pressing him up against the door.

Turning the toy off, you sigh and let him go, making him fall to the floor at the sudden loss of support. He yelps as his knees hit the hard floorboards, eyes darting up to meet yours while he tries to steady his breathing, willing himself to not get hard.

“I’ll be downstairs.” you say, and he can only nod in response, scrambling to get up and finish getting dressed, the plug shifting inside him with every move he makes, small groans spilling from his parted lips. 

It takes longer than usual for Matty to finish up, meeting you at the front door dressed in the same jeans you had left him in, paired with a yellow t-shirt, slightly too small for him. You chuckle at the sight, a small sliver of skin being revealed by the too-short fabric. 

The place was a short walk away, maybe ten minutes if you walked fast. It saved Hann the pain of having to drive and pick you up, whining about the cost of gas and how his car wouldn't be able to take much more if he was constantly chauffeuring the two of you around (you find he was overreacting a bit, but it is his car).

The process of putting on your respective shoes is done in silence, the tension thick in the air as you take your keys off the hook, stuffing them into your pocket. Matty was right behind you, fastenting the straps of his boots, the clanging metal impossibly loud in the echo of the foyer.

Sun hits your face the moment you step outside, welcoming the comfortable warmth it brought with it, a soft breeze blowing through your hair. The click of your shoes against the pavement was even, the road fairly empty as you walked, hand in hand, Matty’s fingers tightly clasping yours. 

The restaurant/pub was more Ross’ aesthetic, the earthy, wooden exterior not really what you were used to. You could feel Matty speed up as you neared the entrance, excited to finally see his mates again, have a drink and talk shit. Your hand moves away from his, gently settling on his lower back, stopping him in his tracks as he grasps the door handle, about to pull it open. 

You bring your lips to his ear, his hair slightly in the way, curls brushing against your face lightly.

“You going to behave?” you whisper, warning him. His smirk tells you all you need to know before he even opens his mouth to speak.

“In your wildest dreams.” he blows you a cheeky kiss and flings the door wide open, cutting off your retort.

Ross and Hann greet him first, lifting their pints in his direction. His laugh as he sees them is infectious, making you crack a fond smile as they all hug, Matty sliding into the booth next to Ross. George gets up from his chair, pulling you in for a tight hug and saying how nice it was to see you and Matty, pushing a french martini in your direction.

“I could kiss you.” you say, bringing the glass up to your lips, taking a grateful sip. George chuckles, his deep voice oddly comforting.

“No need, pretty sure Matty would stab my eyes out.”

“What would I do!?” Matty yells at him, only catching a small part of his sentence, too engrossed in his storytelling to listen to his answer. You wave your hand in dismissal, turning your attention to Matty’s story, a detailed recount of his first kiss. 

How he got to that topic within ten minutes of entering the joint was beyond you, but you listened, laughing at the gross descriptions of the girls lips, using way too many adjectives Ross didn't even know existed. 

The remote is heavy in your pocket, burning a hole into your skin as an idea pops into your head.

He chats animatedly, his voice loud and booming, so unmistakably him. 

“Genuinely tasted like sand, nearly impossible to get any real acti-” you cut him off by clicking the toy on, his eyes immediately widening at the sensation. He chokes a bit, his words coming out weird and in bits before he decides to try and cover it up with a cough. The guys give him a weird look and you play along, raising your eyebrows at him. 

“Alright, Matty?” Ross asks, taking a sip of his pint at the sudden, awkward silence. You grin at him, turning the vibrations down a bit so he could speak.

“Everythings good, just got a fucked throat.” he smooth talks his way out of it, glaring at you from across the table as the conversation shifts.

You continue toying with him, playing with the remote mindlessly as the minute tick by, another round of drinks being bought by Hann. Whenever he goes to speak, you make a point to turn the vibrations up, even if only a little bit, just to watch him squirm in his seat, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Mate, you look wrecked. Sure you're okay?” Hann presses a paternal hand to his head, checking his temperature. Matty was flushed a bright shade of pink, a look of pleasure on his face only you could truly recognise, having seen him in this exact position a thousand times. Yearning, begging, willing to do anything just to finally have some relief.

“Y-yeah sorry, I must've caught something.” he forces out, a slight edge to his voice as you eye him, catching a suspicious glance from George next to you.

“Go home then, I'll even drive you back.” he offers, earning a groan from the other two men. Apologizing, you offer to buy everyone a round on you as a peace offering for leaving early. Hann promises to come back after, not letting Matty’s little bout of illness ruin a perfectly good outing. If only they knew.

He’s a bit sick I reckon, nothing a good rest cant fix.” you move to get up, brushing off your jeans as you shuffle out of the booth, watching Matty closely.

“Dickhead.” he mutters as he passes by, being led to the car by Adam. You grin from ear to ear, taking your revenge.

“Watch it, sweetheart.” you click the vibrator on higher, making his knees buckle and he falls into your arms, a look of betrayal, mixed with undeniable pleasure, evident on his face.

“Jesus, Matty, let's get you home.” you mutter, your voice one of faux-concern as you stroke his hair, half carrying him to the car.

The car ride is oddly quiet, Hann making casual conversation as Matty curls up in the backseat, knees to his chest, feigning illness. The radio plays softly in the background, some country stuff that was popular.

“No music commentary today? Pretty sure this is Taylor Swift.” you chuckle at your mates words, watching Matty’s reaction in the rearview mirror. 

“She’s fit.” His voice is slightly raspy, teasing as he makes eye contact through the reflection, almost as if challenging you. You roll your eyes, a prick of jealousy bubbling up inside of you.

“Not as fit as my girl though.” he adds, making Hann groan in disgust.

“I don't need to bear witness to your weird flirting. It's bad enough having to watch you drunk snog every week.” 

Even though you tried to keep your affection to a minimum around the guys, with alcohol being thrown into the mix it was impossible to keep your hand off each other. The brick wall of the alleyway behind the bar had seen a lot of makeout sessions, and more often than not, Hann or George would walk out for a smoke right when Matty was shoving his tongue down your throat.

“Why do you watch us? Might be a sign, mate.” Matty mumbles, kicking the back of the driver's seat aggressively, making it shake.

“I hope you choke.”

“So does she.” he sniggers, wiggling his eyebrows at an exhausted Adam, at his limit with Matty’s bullshit for the day.

“Ugh, please stop.” 

You wave goodbye to him and walk up to the front door, unlocking it swiftly as Matty trails behind you, legs weak and barely holding himself upright as the toy buzzed inside of him. He lets out a string of gasps as you turn it up, clicking a total of two times with an intention to overwhelm him. 

“What's wrong, love? Too much?” you ask, cupping his face with your left hand. His eyes are glazed over, tears threatening to spill as pleasure radiates through his entire body.

“F-fuck me, jesus thats high.” he pants, chest heaving as you grin, satisfied.

“You picked it out.”

“Not to be used against me.” he shoots back, slowly getting used to the sensation, his mind clearing enough to speak properly.

“And whose fault is that?” you press your lips to his in a chaste kiss, the weight of you against him driving him insane, getting lost in your touch. Pulling away suddenly, you put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“Fuck you-” he cuts himself off with a choked moan, his hand twitching as he attempted to stand up straight.

“Go upstairs and wait nice and pretty for me, yeah? I'll be right there.”

He moves faster than you expect, stumbling up the stairs in the direction of your shared bedroom, his footsteps heavy.

You know exactly what you want to do, the whole day building up to this exact moment. Gathering a few items from a certain box that lived on the shelf in your living room, simple and unassuming, you follow his path, peeling off your shirt as you walk, discarding it somewhere in the hallway.

Matty is naked on the bed when you enter the room, back slightly arched as the plug pressed up against his prostate, his cock hard and aching, leaking all over the sheets. Your heart skips a beat when he smirks at you, his hair thrown carelessly over his face curls obscuring a small part of it.

“No strip-tease today?” he shakes his head, smug expression wiped from his face as his eyes fall on your chest, clad in only a simple, black bra.

“Can’t fucking- please darling, please I need you so bad.” he whimpers, hips bucking upwards as you dangle the remote in front of him, kneeling onto the bed between his legs.

You look up at him with an innocent expression, eyes wide as you watch him squirm, so desperate for your touch it made him dizzy.

“What do you want from me?” you whisper, the edge to your voice making Matty still. Obviously, he was expecting more of a fight, more begging, more effort. You were in a different sort of mood today, much to his delight. 

“Sit on my face, make me earn it, please. Wanna taste you on my tongue, make you feel so good.” he moans, the toy making him see stars behind his eyes. Matty’s in a daze that only happens every so often, his cocky and arrogant demeanor nowhere to be seen. Instead, it's replaced by a look of utter devotion, willingness to give up every fiber of himself to you, hand over his mind, body, and soul, placing it carefully in your hands.

“So eager.”

“Only for you.”

His cock twitches against his stomach as you peel off your jeans, your panties quick to follow suit, gone in a pile on the floor. Eyes trained on you, he watches how you shuffle upwards, glistening cunt hovering over his mouth in anticipation. His hands come up to grip your thighs, attempting to pull you down onto him, your resistance making him frown.

“I don’t want to crush you.” you murmur, a small moment of weakness in a situation where you held all the power. He looks at you confused before reassuringly shaking his head, running his fingers over your cunt, making you gasp in pleasure.

“Please.” his voice cracks, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine at the simple word.

Lowering yourself onto him, he tugs you completely onto his mouth, not letting you hover. The room instantly fills with your moans, the sounds bouncing off the walls and going straight to his cock, beads of precum spilling from his tip.

The toy buzzes against his prostate, making him whimper against your cunt as you play with the settings, never letting him get used to it before switching it up. His tongue laps at your clit, sucking it between his lips, creating a delicious suction he knew made your mind go blank. You grab onto the metal bed frame for stability, back arching as the pleasure between your legs took over your entire body.

You hear him whine beneath you, the pressure of the plug getting to be too much, his hips bucking wildly for any sort of friction, being met with only air. The obscenity of his actions only spurs you on, filthy words falling from your lips as your orgasm rapidly approaches.

“So good for me, eating me all messy. Like it when I tell you how good you're being for me?” you breath, words broken up by gasps of pleasure as he draws figure eights on your clit with his tongue. His curls stick to his forehead, the room stinking of sex and his fucking perfume, clinging to his skin like some kind of sex pollen.

“Fuck, i’m so close, please make me cum.” you breathe, looking down to rake your eyes over his face, being met with a blissed out expression as he shoves his way inside of you, tongue stroking your velvety walls.

“Oh fuck, fuck, right there just keep doing that.” he lets you grind against his face, licking a thick stripe over your folds, making you shudder as your climax hits you like a freight train, pleasure crashing over you in mind numbing waves, your legs clamping around his head.

It takes you longer than normal to catch your breath, your skin sticky with sweat as you pant, shuffling down his body to settle on his hips, his cock grinding against your arse from behind.

“So good, love the way you clench around my tongue.” you cringe, screwing your eyes shut at his choice of words. You flush a deep shade of red when he winks at you, licking his lips provocatively, refusing to break eye contact.

“You're so filthy, can you at least try to use metaphors? Christ.”

“Nah, much better seeing you blush for me.” an exasperated sigh leaves your lips, looking unimpressed by his attempt at a flirt. You’d believe he was only joking, purely messing around if it wasn't for the way his cock leaked onto the sheets, twitching at every vibration of the toy inside of him.

“God, your ego is huge.”

“Not the only thing that's huge.” jesus.

“Oh, fuck off, honestly.”

“Only if you promise to fuck me first.” his tone changes, and you know he’s deadly serious.

His eyes flicker over to the strap laying innocently on the bed, silently begging you to have some sort of mercy.

“Did it feel good, almost having the guys catch you?” you ask, lowering your voice as you reach for the toy, your movements excruciatingly slow. He shuffles under you, one of his arms lazily resting behind his head, trying to appear lax.

“Felt even better seeing you watch me, trying to get me to react.” you giggle, his words ringing painfully true.

The whole point of playing with the controls was to see exactly what made him squirm, moan against his glass and attempt to cover the whole thing up with a cough, eyes desperate to find yours as you chatted to George, pretending to be blissfully unaware of his little predicament.

“You did, didnt you?” of course he did, how could he not?

“You try having a massive plug pressed up against your prostate for an hour.”

“Youre so vulgar, fuck's sake.” you groan, pressing a hand to your forehead in disappointment. You loved him, but Matty’s choice of words was incredibly unsexy at times, ruining the mood.

“Just-” he starts, cut off by his own gasp, the toy shifting inside him slightly, hitting his G-spot with jarring accuracy.

“What?” you tease, narrowing your eyes at him as he flushes a deep crimson, the blush spreading from his face down to his chest, making your heart skip a beat.

“Just- fuck me, i’ve been ready for you since-” he yelps when your hands find his waist, maneuvering him onto his stomach, quite aggressively at that. His face is pushed into a decorative pillow, muffling his sounds of protests, much to your delight.

“Since?”

“Since you pressed me up against that door.” he mumbles, rutting against the mattress, an attempt at some kind of relief, having spent the better part of two hours right on that edge, nothing substantial to push him off it.

“Really? Must’ve been pretty painful, walking around hard where our mates could see you.” You think back to Ross’ weird look. Matty had already let slip that he told him more than was necessary, the thought making you shudder. Imagine if he knew the actual reason you had left in such a hurry, desperate to get home to ‘nurse Matty back to health’.

“Please, darling, I'm so ready for it, just let go. Fuck me so dumb I cant think. I deserve it.” he moans, pressing his hips towards you, arching his back. You catch a glimpse of the plug, the sight making your heart speed up, thrumming against your ribcage as you fumble with the strap, using his little ramble to slip it over your hips, tightening the clasps.

“You deserve it, do you?” your mouth is right against his ear as you lean over him, pressing the tip of the flush against his arse. The remote is abandoned on the other side of the bed, too out of reach for you to turn down the toy, leaving Matty helpless and twitching, the pleasure being just too little to make him cum. He lets out an infuriated groan when you chuckle, the bed creaking as you get comfortable on your knees.

“What you deserve.” you whisper into his ear, hearing his breath hitch at the proximity. “Is to be fucking destroyed.” he gasps, feeling your fingertips ghost over the base of the plug before slowly slipping it out of him, leaving him empty and wanting.

“Please.” The word is small, miniscule as he trembles under your touch, his body limp against the mattress. 

You take your time, pressing the tip of the strap against his entrance, teasing him until he jerks under you, his voice high pitched and exhausted, yearning for any kind of relief. Brushing his hair out of his face, you grab his jaw, making his neck crane to look at you. His eyes are wide, an insatiable hunger evident in them.

Sultry moans spill from his lips as you press inside of him, barely giving him a moment to breathe before thrusting out, setting a fast-paced rhythm as he writhed against you, grinding back onto the strap like his life depended on it.

“Fuck, thats so good, oh my- yesyesyes.” he whines, hands moving down to grip his cock. You catch him before he does, pinning his wrists above his head as you relentlessly drill into him, drinking every noise he makes.

“So deep, shit. Fuck me, god- harder.” your stomach flips, the sound of him begging you to take him even harder making you feel dizzy with power. He groans against the pillow when you speed up, one of your hands gripping his waist for leverage, hitting his prostate with scary accuracy.

“Harder, yeah? I’m going to take you apart bit by bit, love, make you scream my name until your throat is actually sore.”

“Feel how good I fuck you? Reduce you to little pieces at my feet where you belong.” you're drunk with power, Matty’s twitching and desperate frame beneath you sending you to another plane of existence, making you believe that if there truly was a heaven, this would be it.

“I’m yours, fuck- all yours- Please, don’t stop.” his eyes water at the force of your thrusts, and you feel him shake at the strength of his impending orgasm. You reach down his mouth at his neck, biting down hard, littering his neck with deep, aggressive bruises that you knew would last for days to come, if not weeks.

"You make me feel so good." he mutters, and you feel a sense of pride swell up inside of you. 

“Cum for me, love, please, I wanna see how good I make you feel.” his muscles tense under your grasp, arms flexing under the skin of his tattoos. 

“I’m so close, please don't stop, fuck, I love you so much.”

You love him too. It's all you could do, show him how much you loved him, how much he occupied your every thought and action. Everything depended on him, nothing existing without the knowledge that he was by your side, giving your life true, veritable meaning.

“So good for me, Matthew. Let go, feel it, let it consume you.” he frantically grinds against the mattress, chasing his high as you whisper dirty words into his ear, encouraging him.

“Oh god- just- fuckkk.” he finally cums with a cry of your name, hips bucking up against your strap as he heaves, sputtering and moaning uncontrollably

“So pretty when you cum, fuck, love it when you scream my name, love.” he goes limp as spurts of cum spill onto the sheets, his thighs tensing at the sheer intensity of his orgasm, eyes screwed shut with bliss.

Your hand releases his wrists, soothing raking your nails over his back, bringing him down slowly, not wanting to overwhelm him.

“You’re perfect, my gorgeous boy.” you coo, peppering kisses down his bare skin, licking at the harsh bite marks from earlier, blooming on his neck.

“Yeah, m’yours darling, all yours.” he mumbles, hazy from his climax, mind still foggy from the pure pleasure he had experienced. You slip out of him, watching how he clenched around the toy, as if trying to keep you inside of him.

“I love you.” you whisper, hugging him tightly from behind.

“I love you too, now get down here.” he violently tugs you down next to him, cupping your face in both hands, still trembling slightly. A genuine smile spreads onto his face as he kisses you gently, enjoying this tender moment of vulnerability between the two of you, wanting it to last forever. The two of you giggle into each other's mouths, giddy and relaxed, at peace.

“I love you.” he rolls his eyes playfully, grinning against your lips.

“You already said that.”

“I know.”