#originally i was going to delete this after i wrote it i just wanted the catharsis of getting my emotions out

[paganinpurple]

AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

[mournings-stars]

could i have anything with a married vox x reader pleasee? i'm so obsessed with this television it isn't even funny 😭

okay im FINALLY publishing this — in my defense i wrote like five vox x wife!readers after getting this and couldn't decide which to publish to this ask but now yall are getting over protective husband vox cus i love him and now i wanna make an actual fic also i originally read this request as wife!reader so i made reader fem but I'm just now realizing it's married i hope that's okay!!

warning: vox is a little crazy and reader does not care

No one knew Vox was married — and it wasn’t because he wanted to hide you, or he felt ashamed. He could never feel ashamed; you were basically his pride and joy — It was because he couldn’t stand anyone trying anything with you. Especially because of how much he doted on you. Someone could easily see how much he cared and use it against him — they could hurt you, manipulate you, maybe even force you into a soul-binding deal. He couldn’t risk anything happening to you.

That was why you lived very separate lives… Well, not entirely separate. He couldn’t stand letting you work for someone else (they could take advantage of you, or try to flirt with you), and he couldn’t handle being too far away from him during the day, so you worked at VoxTek. You had a job where you never interacted with your husband, and it left your days feeling exceptionally lonely. Especially because he claimed that he “didn’t want to overwork you,” which meant he stayed at the office much later than you did and you were left at home. Alone for most of the night, usually falling asleep before he got there, and waking without him because he went in earlier than you. 

You also had weekends off while he worked a good portion of the day, which let you “go out on the town” of course, but it also left you, again, very lonely. He did email you throughout the day, but that was because no one could see those emails. It was “an outdated form of communication” as he called it, which meant no one looked through them. 

Of course, when you did get to see him, you were ecstatic. He went on and on about how much he missed you all week, subtly asking if anyone had bothered you at all. If they did, they very coincidentally disappeared, so you often told him “no” for the sake of your coworkers’ souls.

And of course, after some time, people did start to bother you. They would get promoted, and get the chance to work with your husband directly, while you stayed exactly where you were and didn’t even get a call from him. That led them to teasing, which turned into snide comments and remarks, which became little “accidents” like spilling hot coffee on you or ruining and deleting your work. 

One day, after someone dumped piping hot coffee all over you, and a very expensive blouse your husband bought, you had enough and backhanded her. 

You were an overlord’s wife, and he gave you everything. Even and especially power. That meant the employee was flung across the room while screens burst and crackled around her, and you were dragged up to Vox’s office. 

“What is it now?” Vox asked when your supervisor knocked on his door, ignoring your wincing as you tried to get the scalding hot coffee-stained blouse as far from your skin as possible. 

“Another low-class bitch ruining our image,” was the response that made you laugh, knowing this person would be dead as soon as they opened the door. 

“Ah…” He sighed, but you knew he was smiling. “Come in.” He was probably going through his weaponry, pulling out just the thing to get rid of the “low-class bitch,” but as soon as the door was opened, you were shoved in front of him, and his weapon went off, you weren’t the one to fall limply to the ground. 

The two employees who opened the door quickly dragged the supervisor away and left you alone in the room. 

As soon as they were gone, he discarded his weapon and went to you. “What happened to you?” He wiped under your big eyes as he cupped your cheeks, which were dry, but he could tell you were upset and he was doing his best not to go out and get rid of everyone in your department. 

“I hit someone,” you said, and he found it adorable. There wasn’t much you could do wrong in his eyes. 

Clearly. 

“What’d they do to make that happen? I’ll kill them,” was his quick response before he cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ll talk to them about it.” His eyes drifted down to your blouse, his screen blinking and hands twitching on your face before they went to your blouse and began unbuttoning. He didn't say anything else, electricity zapping between his fingers as he fumbled with the buttons until he cursed and ripped the blouse open. The buttons clattered to the floor as he muttered, “I’ll get — get — get you a new one,” screen buffering and electricity zapping over his entire body. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” You knew not to tell him how much it burned with the way he was reacting already. “Vox—“

“After I take care of you, you're going to point out who did this, and who watched it happen. Understood?” He knew you tried to spare your coworkers from his temper, but he wasn’t going to let that happen this time. 

“It’s happened before—“ A loud whir of electricity sounded as Vox’s screen flashed and blue jolts of electricity burst around him. You shrunk back at the overwhelming power, quickly telling him, “I’m fine–”

“You didn’t tell me?” His voice sounded electric, making you swallow as he removed his overcoat to use as a towel to pat your chest dry. He couldn’t even enjoy the sight of you at work, topless, when this was the reason. He watched the way you winced with every touch of his jacket on you, fingers sparking at the redness he could see beneath the coat. His body jolted and the overcoat immediately sparked fire. “Fuck!” He tossed it to the ground, stepping on it to put the fire out. 

“You need to relax,” you told him pointedly. “I’m fine. You’re overreacting.”

“You’re underreacting,” he said childishly, taking in a deep breath before going to a closet in the large room and grabbing a spare blouse for you and an overcoat for him. At the sight of the many things he had to give to you and spoil you with in there, he calmed only slightly. “Did you at least hit her hard?” He asked as he handed you the blouse. You hummed, nodding and making a very prideful smile come to his face as you buttoned up the blouse. “Do you like this one?” He asked quickly, his evident mood shift into wanting to please you making you chuckle. “It’s not as expensive as the one that cunt ruined,” you hummed along to satiate his ego, “but I thought you’d make it look good.” Before you could say anything, he continued. “I have some more I got for you; do you want to see those instead?”

“I like this one. You picked it.” His screen buffered as he cleared his throat, a pink glow on his cheeks that he quickly got rid of. When you noticed he began to relax, you took the opportunity of being in his office to your advantage, sweetly asking, “Can we have a moment together before you go down and fire half your company?”

“Anything you want, dear,” he said, much more cheerful than he was moments ago. “Do you want anything to eat? Drink? I’ll call something up.” He went to the desk at the end of the room as you went to the seating area and sat on the sofa. “Where should I order from?”

“Vox, you’re at work. You shouldn’t order anything,” you had to remind him of his own rules he set for himself. “They’ll see me here–”

“Are you wearing your ring?” He asked, speaking over you.

“I’m always wearing my ring.”

He nodded, looking down at his matching golden band. “Let them see.” In the moment you gave him to think, he’d come to the more rational conclusion that he wouldn't harm anyone. Just that he’d terrify them to death by making it known that you were not to be touched ever again. “I’ll make sure everyone knows who they decided to fuck with today.”

[clarenecessities]

He-man.org will close in 5 days.

He-man.org has been a staple of the Masters of the Universe community since the early days, originating as an email list that worked to document episodes before anything (not footage, not lists, nothing) was available online. It grew into a sprawling, multi-faceted beast of a thing, including an encyclopedia (an in-house wiki), merch lists, a marketplace, forums, anything you could think of.

Several years ago now, the main site went down for updates/maintenance. For a few weeks, we were told, maybe months. The forums remained open for fans to communicate, and barring a period of downtime earlier this year things were going smoothly.

Yesterday, the owner of the site, Val Staples, announced the site would be closed on November 14th, 2023. Six days later. We are currently attempting to contact him, to see if he’s interested in selling, and if he means closed as in “no new posts” or closed as in deleted entirely. Regardless of its eventual fate, the archiving of these forums is essential to preserving the history of the franchise, the fandom, and the brand.

TO SHE-RA (and MotU) FANS SPECIFICALLY: I have personally used these forums to answer questions that could be answered nowhere else. Had I not had access to them, I would never have been able to prove that Purrsia was fake, or found so much unpublished concept art, or discovered that Scott “Toyguru” Neitlich personally wrote Catra’s MOTUC bio (even if he’s put off answering my questions about it for over a year now). Forum members have conducted interviews with the likes of Jon Seisa, Cathy Larson, Janice Varney-Hamlin—essential figures in the very foundations of POP, and those interviews revealed and recorded priceless information for future generations (me! you! us!) to find. Did you know Cathy Larson named Adora? That she originally pushed for “Dorian”, after her own daughter? We cannot let this treasure trove disappear into the ether(ia).

TO THE UNAFFILIATED: Please help. Pretty please. If you’ve ever liked my art or my writing or my haphazard blogging, ever, at all, consider archiving just one board. Just one page. Literally anything helps. I am spiraling into madness & this is my library of Alexandria. The mythical one that was totally unique and persevered nowhere else and was destroyed in a single cataclysmic event. Pretty pretty please help.

HOW TO HELP:

Archive.org has several ways to upload shit but most of them are longer term than “a few days” so we’re focusing on two (which can be run simultaneously): Save Page Now, and browser extensions. From their help page:

1. Save Page Now

Put a URL into the form, press the button, and we save the page. You will instantly have a permanent URL for your page. Please note, this method only saves a single page, not the whole site.

We want to keep outlinks and screenshots wherever possible. The Archive does not keep your IP address, so your submission is anonymous.

2. Browser extensions and add-ons

Install the Wayback Machine Chrome extension in your browser. Go to a page you want to archive, click the icon in your toolbar, and select Save Page Now. We will save the page and give you a permanent URL.

One plus to installing the extension is that as you surf around, when you run into a missing page they will alert you if we have a saved copy.

More extensions, apps, and add-ons:

Firefox add-on

Safari Extension

iOS app

Android app

I strongly encourage you to use these tools even if you aren’t helping with this project/after it ends. Documenting and preserving information is essential in this day and age & The Internet Archive is at the heart of it. Please support them however you can.

I’m serious about paying you, though I may need more communication with folks I don’t know so we can coordinate/verify shit gets done. I think this is a worthwhile pursuit in itself but I recognize your time is valuable & like, people gotta eat. DM me if you’re interested and we’ll talk. I may need to adjust pay depending how many people bite but I’ll do what I can

[almalvo]

About An Official Spiderverse Artist...

Please do not just scroll past this post; read it.

If you guys follow me on twitter, you probably already know.

But if you dont or still want to read this anyway - here you go:

I aint big, but I got a growing platform that I see as important for me to use as a force for things that matter.

So here I am.

And I got something to say about a certain "artist".

There are so many fucked up people who call themselves artists who are so heavily worshipped by us who both get and or dont get outed in the world for things they do and for their general piss-poor behaviours and persons.

Im here to talk about one in particular (and certainly wont be the last).

There is an artist that basically EVERYONE here has seen art from before, printed in the official Sony artbooks too.

If you have seen this:

Then you have seen this artist before.

His name is Alberto Mielgo. He goes by @/pinkman_himself on twitter.

He is a HUGE part of the art direction and stylisation of the spiderverse movies, if that isnt already obvious. Because he was the former original art director of Into The Spiderverse.

Yes. Former.

Cuz he got "mYsTeRiOuSlY fiReD" from Sony 2 years into pre-production and completely removed from the project.

You may have also seen this character before:

Yes. THAT asian character from Netflix's Love Death + Robots, from the episode "The Witness".

Familiar? Yeah. Because this episode was also made by the same guy, Mielgo.

I aint going to talk about what happens in that episode and hesitate to encourage anyone to watch it - cuz all it basically is is a megalo-misogynistic, assault "glorified for the sake of aRtT", racially fetishised showcase of this crazy makeup/haired bdsm stereotyped asian girl sex worker who essentially gets murdered over and over and over after running for her life completely naked through the city for all of us to see for some fucking reason.

BUt yeah anyways, you can see it in the first pic, but Ill put it here to show more clearly - this here is NOT the character from LDR. But I can understand why you might think so:

Yeah. You read that name in the bottom right corner correctly. This is Peni Parker. His concept art of Peni Parker. A 13 YEAR OLD CHILD. Lookin suspiciously like and dressed as the adult person from LDR with ALSO the crazy hair, make up - WITH AN O-RING CHOKER AND BALL-GAG LIPSTICK (BDSM).

13. year. old. child.

This man only sees east asian women this way.

He likes them crazy, sexy, broken--

and young.

Cuz this man also wrote this on a now-deleted post on his website:

Yeah. He, this whole ass middle-aged white cishet male spaniard thirstin for kids since he was 18 for 12 year old girls.

Cuz 12 year old girls are a fuckin "KNOCK OUT" when they grow up, when they ripen up into adulthood, to this man Alberto Mielgo, aka @/pinkman_himself, this creature.

And if auctioning NFTs isnt bad enough (cuz yes, ofc he does that too - its literally the first option on his website) -

His entire fucking portfolio is of drawing women he had sex with.

His fucking PROFESSIONAL PORTFOLIO is all of painting and drawing women in very compromising, questionable ways of the VERY SAME WOMEN HE HAD SLEPT WITH THROUGH HIS LIFE.

They look as creepy as they are.

But the scariest part?

While I myself had only just found out about this some days ago as of writing this, some of us have known about this man and his antics for years.

And he keeps getting greenlit by the industry, over and over and over; winning awards, getting respected, praised, admired, even by fellow at-home artists like many of you out there if you dont already do so.

And nothing will happen to him cuz he is a white cishet male artist who has money and a following and connections and influence and power.

So yeah.

I just wanted to talk about a certain official Spiderverse artist to just let yall know there are freaks everywhere, and that no matter how small it is, it's people like me and you who need to do what we can to keep up awareness and warn our communities and protect our most vulnerable.

My suggestion is to take heed of what I said, ask questions about everything you will ever see again from anyone around you, no less the industry, THINK for once, and actually give a fuck.

Keep away.

Do not support this man.

But the decision is ultimately yours.

Stay awake, yall.

-------

(His face, publicly available as his imdb profile):

scary.

[bluegiragi]

I hate to ask this cause it feels stupid but I dont wanna do a bunch of research on whatever the recent cod mw fandom discourse is,

but I saw the reblog of someone accusing you of supporting people who write sexualized pedophilia and that really is personally my only """"moral"""" with nsfw shit, (I'm a patreon subscriber and ig I just wanna know where my money's going) is THAT true?

i used to follow an artist who, 5-6 months ago made racist art featuring gaz and soap in a slave context, which I didn't like, retweet or interact with in any way. they also made under-age art of ghost soap, which I also didn't interact with . people on twitter called me out yesterday, for retweeting (months before this incident) other art they'd made as evidence I stood by/encouraged/was an avid fan of all these tropes. The art I retweeted wasn't either of these previous examples of art, but one where ghost and soap were sleeping in a bed together, as adults, peacefully. I can't emphasise enough that I have not interacted with this artist at all, for over six months. The callout in question has framed me as a close friend of theirs when, in truth, our total timeline of interactions could probably be counted on one hand, and I haven't interacted with her in so long that I genuinely forgot I was still following her.

The crux of all is this is that I did not unfollow + block this artist earlier on when the racist art was posted months ago, and then I retweeted a fic tagged with "non-con" (ghost gets soap off in a context where he can't really properly consent, they're in front of a crowd of strangers and they have to fuck, but both parties are into each other) written by a friend as I wanted to support their writing.

The pedophile claims are because I retweeted a fandom bingo post that defended loli-con without reading all the squares properly, and then immediately un-retweeted it when I properly read it. All in all, the post was on my account for maybe a few minutes.

The zoophile claims are because people say i support someone who wrote zoophilic fic and called people slurs, and I genuinely don't know who they're talking about there.

The anti-asian racism claims come from the original accusers in the callout thread thinking that I made Horangi's eyes in the monster!AU sensitive as a way of making fun of Asian eyes. The real reason is because he's a cat hybrid in that AU and cats are sensitive to light.

I tried addressing all this in a casual way earlier on in a misguided attempt to sort things out more 'civilly', and responded to an ask talking about my "support" for the artist who drew the slave Gaz art by saying the fanart in question was tone deaf and in poor taste. It wasn't enough for some people, so I'm happy to say it clearly- yes, it was racist, and the reason why I didn't want to be more aggressive is because I didn't want to extend all this mess by throwing this artist directly to the wolves - I genuinely believed them at the time when they said that wasn't that their intention, and think they should've deleted the post at the time, but not unfollowing was a decision that I made. I know now upon reflection that it was naive of me, unwarranted and frankly irresponsible to take a stranger at face value and believe they had good intentions, when the act of not deleting the post in question was evidence of a lack in remorse. In the moment, I'd thought back to my own personal experience with a friend of mine who used an asian slur in my company, who later sincerely apologised and legitimately cleaned up his act after I gave him a second chance. It informed my choice to not unfollow at the time, but there's a difference between someone you know irl for months and a stranger on the internet you've interacted with a few times. I shouldn't have coddled them in my response, and I'm sorry for not treating it with the severity it deserved. It was callous, and stupid, and indicative of internal biases that I ever thought it was a light enough offence to "see through", and I deeply deeply apologise. I promise from the bottom of my heart to do better.

That's everything so far. I didn't unfollow an artist when I absolutely should've, which i'll always strongly regret. I also retweeted a properly-tagged fic on my clearly 18+ nsfw account. I've undone both of those actions now. I hope this can be the end of it.

[shiny-jr]

Get you a guy with thighs bigger than yours.

- Warning: Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: König.

- Summary: Thick thighs do not save lives.

- Note: This came about because I was just talking crazy in the dms with a mutual. I originally wasn't going to ever let this see the light of day, but then I decided, why the hell not? If I get smacked with delayed embarrassment, I'll just delete. Yeah, I know this isn't what I usually write and post, but oh well. Anyways, after this, we will be back to our regular scheduled content shortly. Oh, and sorry for minor mistakes, I wrote this like at midnight.

. . .

You decided to put a movie on. Just for a distraction. After about an hour into the movie, the leather couch got a bit uncomfortable since it stuck to your skin. So you slunk down to the floor, bringing a pillow or two down with you to use in case extra comfort was needed. The movie was beginning to lose your attention, but you still watched the screen attentively as if you were still focused on the film's plot.

What ended up catching your attention, was the slight shifting couch. Well, slight probably wasn't the correct word, as the movement was anything but light. It was safe to assume the shifting was from a guy who was well over 200 Ibs and a few inches short of 7 ft, although you didn't know the exact numbers because you never wanted to ask König outright.

It was easier to hear the movement, as the large figure scoot a few inches over. Instead of sitting beside you like he was a few seconds earlier, he had not so discreetly moved to take your vacant spot and sit directly behind you. He tried to stay quiet, he really did, but it wasn't so easy for him given his size. At the very least, he treaded carefully, not bumping your back once with his legs or accidentally knocking the back of your skull with his kneecaps.

You didn't move, but your eyes slowly glanced downward, where you could see the tip of his boots. Custom made, as most department stores didn't carry anything in his size. Most articles of clothing he had were custom-made or bought in special stores, save for that odd black diy mask he often wore over his head like a hood to hide himself from the world. Too afraid to lean back and accidentally make contact and disturb this fragile peace, you remain still despite the slight ache in your lower back that make you want to lean back and stretch. But you don't. All you could do was try to revert your attention back to the movie and not think any unholy thoughts, that is, until you heard more movement.

To not bump his knees against you, Konig spread his legs a bit and leaned down. The edges of his homemade cloth mask brushed against your back as you stiffened up, and you could make out the shape of his head beside yours as he whispered, "Do you, uh, want some...?"

Yes. "What???"

"Popcorn? Do you want some popcorn...??"

Oh.

After deciding whether or not you'd accept his offer, silence ensued, only fueled by the movie playing on the television. You weren't gonna lie, you have no idea what the hell was going on in the story anymore. A solid minute passed when he spoke again, sounding just as unsure as the first time. He spoke, as if whatever thoughts he had on his mind earlier where left to simmer for long enough.

"Scheiße. Sorry, should I have not moved here...? You can still lean back if you want?"

"Oh, okay... I, um, I'll do that."

Your back was starting to ache a little from sitting up without support, so, feeling just as awkward as he was feeling, you leaned your back against the couch. Instantly, as soon as you did that, your peripheral vision was covered by his knees and part of his legs. The movie was pretty much pointless now, as you were currently wondering whether you should thank whatever gods existed or curse them for the fact that König did not have shorts on. Even without shorts and with specially fitted cargo pants, they could not conceal the insane bulk of his legs. Especially his thighs. Good lord. The two pillows you brought down before from the couch were essentially useless now because on each side of your head were his limbs that rivaled the best of My Pillow.

Think of something else, anything else, is what you tried to tell yourself.

That idea would go out the window as soon as you felt something in your hair. Carefully twisting a few strands, you felt some thick and calloused fingers gently try and feel the texture of your hair. But it lasted only for a brief second, as he immediately pulled his hands away and murmured a tiny bit louder from his whisper earlier, "Ah, sorry, I should've asked first. I should not have done that. I am sorry––"

"It's okay, I... don't mind." You shrugged it off, and much to your surprise and contentment, he continued.

The first few seconds had a bit more hesitancy, but as time ticked by, seconds turned to minutes, his boldness increased. It started with his large hands carefully feeling the texture of your hair, then it became slow brush strokes as his thick fingers ever-so-carefully untangled knots in your stands of hair. Until eventually it escalated, and he gathered the courage to do something so bold as to scratch your skull. He could easily take your entire face in one hand and crush your skull, but he didn't. There was no sign of any such roughness. Instead, his fingers and nails continued to comb through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp. At first when he did this, he paused, and waited for any objections or signals of a negative reaction, but after no such thing, he continued and seemed pleased.

It was after about five-minutes and heavy mental debating in your mind that you decided to suck it up and go for it. What's the worst that could happen? Honestly, you didn't even expect to make it this far.

So, after taking in a breath, you let your head fall to the side. It wasn't like those romantic scenes where you watch the character lean their head against a love interest's shoulder. Oh no, you were skipping that part, your ear landed right on his thigh. Which was probably due to the cushion you placed underneath you on the floor that elevated you a few extra inches, or else you might've missed. In that moment, right as the side of your head landed on its intended target, you felt him freeze. His fingers stopping, nails still on your scalp. A second passed, then two, then three, like time froze.

You were almost tempted to pry yourself off and apologize, but you really didn't want to. But you had to ask. "Is this alright...?"

"J-Ja... I mean, yes..."

Your eyes widened, and you were sure you had on some goofy kinda grin but at least you weren't facing him so he couldn't tell. Once you heard his response, your shoulders slumped, relieved of tension you didn't even know you were carrying.

Even with your head against his thigh that wasn't plush but was still definitely comfortable, you realize you were no better than a man as you resisted the urge to just reach out and squeeze his other thigh that had gotten closer without you even realizing it. You had to dig your nails into your knee to prevent yourself from acting on impulse.

It was definitely almost pure muscle from what you could tell with your head on one of them. Firm but somehow still soft. Thick thighs, in fact, do not save lives, because these thighs have ended who knows how many between them in finishing moves on the battlefield. Lucky bastards. Trying your luck agian, you place a shaky hand on his other thigh, but he didn't react. A good sign? Possibly?

Forget goth gfs and thick plush thighs, apparently giant anxious austrian soldiers with thighs as thick as tree trunks and strong enough to obliterate skulls like melons were the new fad.

Movie totally forgotten, your vision was entirely covered when König leaned down a bit from his spot on the couch and you tilted your head to look up and meet his gaze. The masked man stared at you, his blue eyes peering down at you through the two small slits cut into his mask for his eyes to see. His mask partially dangled, but not fully, so not revealing himself to you. When your gaze traveled away, abruptly his thighs got closer, squishing your cheeks and the sides of your face but not enough to hurt. Just a bit of pressure to get you to look up again.

Oh god.

There was literally no space between your face and his legs anymore, and your arms instinctively went to the outer side of his thighs to try and pry them apart a bit. You didn't try much, maybe because you enjoyed it or because you didn't exactly have strength strong enough to rival his, so all you could do was clutch the pockets of his cargo pants that were just above his knees, your nails digging in softly just to get a quick feel.

Once he saw he had your attention again after he applied a bit of pressure, he cocked his head to the side and continued to look down at you through half-lidded eyes darkened by the shadow of his hood. Then he spoke, but this time with no apprehension in his quiet tone.

"You do know I've ruined others that were in a similar position to what you are in right now?"

[leclerced]

Heyyy hope you have a good day, i come bearing new thots

Credit where credit’s due, the idea is an old and deleted roger Taylor fic and not from me.

HOWEVER. Im now obsessed with this scenario with either lando or oscar (ill let you choose <3)

Roommate!AU !!!

Imagine you’re friends and roommates with lando or oscar and he has to study for his upcoming biology exam at uni. The topic? Female reproductive organs🤭

He just genuinely struggles with understanding the anatomy of a vagina and that picture in his damn book is absolutely not recognisable.

And since him and reader are friends and she doesn’t think thoughts all the way through she offers him to look at hers. I mean hes seen her shirtless a million times its nbd.

And staring at her beautiful pussy really does help him - to an extend. Hes so into his studies he doesn’t really process that he asked her „can i touch it??“ and she just goes along with it bc it’s already lowkey awkward and theres no turning back now.

She tries to not make it more awkward by suppressing her moans when his finger brush over her clit all while hes just identifying parts with his thoughts oblivious to what he does to her.

And she cant keep in the moan when he pushes his fingern in and suddenly he realises what hes doing. But he sneakily keeps going until she cums and hes trying his best to keep up the ignorant act bc shes js too hot like that😩

Got damn it i need a full length version of this fic again 😭

-🫀

i want to write a full length version omfg this is incredible!!! pictured oscar immediately. kinda set in like the early 2000s in my head bc i wanted to mention dvd rentals One Time and that's not a thing anymore but that's the world i grew up in LMAO

sorry i like got too into this at first and forgot i made plans to game with my friend and rushed the ending im sorry. added read more bc it's just over 1k <3 i think i like this a lot other than the ending idk . lmk what u think i hope it meets the expectations set by the original

reader thinks oscar's an innocent idiot but he just probably shouldn't be in medical school because while he can find the clit, he certainly doesn't know the name of it.

Her roommate has been staring at the same page for half an hour, they're seated on opposite ends of the couch, leaning against the arms and facing each other. She has a Stephen King novel leaned on her propped up knees and Oscar has an open textbook balanced on one thigh and a notebook open to a blank page on the other. After another frustrated sigh leaves him, she drops her book on the coffee table and leans over to see what he's looking at. She almost laughs when she sees the miniature sketch of a vagina, "You know, the DVD rental place down the street has rated X movies."

Oscar snorts, "I'm trying to work, leave me alone. I'm supposed to learn all the anatomical names of a vagina, but the only drawing I have is in this stupid book."

She leans in further to the diagram and hums, "That's a horrible diagram, no wonder you're getting nothing done. How old is that that textbook?" He shrugs and stretches back over the arm of the couch, "Probably like thirty, the professor wrote it himself and he's ancient."

Her eyes get pulled to his hips as he reaches behind his head and groans, his shirt lifting the slightest to reveal soft skin before he drops his arms back down. She licks her lips as she directs her gaze up to his face, "I could show you mine, if you want." The swift inhale Oscar makes is audible, he keeps his gaze locked on the books in his lap as he says, "Really?" Instead of verbally agreeing, she just scoots back to where she was leaning moments before on the arm of the couch and shimmies her shorts down before she can think twice. She giggles at the look on Oscar's face as she kicks the shorts off her ankles and he takes in the sight of her panties, lacy and red. "Are you sure?"

She shrugs and teases, "Well it's not like they have 3D models. I'm sure, I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Are you sure?" He nods slowly and she tugs her panties down her thighs and smirks at the blush that creeps up his cheeks as she drops them on his lap. She doesn't know where the sudden confidence has come from, but she feels no shame as she opens her legs to him. She drops one foot to the floor and the other lifts to rest on the back of the couch. Oscar holds her eye for a moment before she watches his gaze drift down her body and he starts to lean in before pausing, "Can I get closer?" She nods at his question and answers, "As close as you want." Oscar lurches forwards, knocking the forgotten textbook to the floor as he fumbles to grab his pen and notebook to take notes.

She can't read his chicken scratch handwriting, so whatever he's scrawling about her pussy is undecipherable to her as she watches him analyze her. She's trying not to think about how this could be weird, how it is weird to offer to let your roommate use you as an anatomy dummy. It's not really the first time. He's done other things, like when he needed to practice IVs so she let him give her a banana bag the next time she was hungover. She liked teasing him about it, calling him Doctor Piastri when she let him listen to her heart with his stethoscope. Or when she comes down with a cold and she calls him into her room to diagnose and treat her, and he brings her cold medicine and soup from the deli down the street.

She's pulled out of her thoughts when he clears his throat and she meets his eyes before she hums quizzically. The pink tint that had spattered his cheeks turns into a bright red as he asks, "Can I touch you?"

She almost thinks she didn't hear him correctly, but there's no way he could have said anything else, so she tries to joke, "So you're a hands on learner, then?"

Oscar quickly counters, "Yeah, do you mind?"

It's her turn to lose her breath as she stupidly nods and blushes as she takes in the realization that he's about to touch her pussy. In the name of science, she agrees, "No, go ahead." Then, his hand is on her pussy and his focus is entirely on the space between her legs as he spreads her lips apart and she has to close her eyes and force her mind to other places as he tilts his had interestedly. She wishes she could stop her body from reacting to his touch, but she can't. Not when he pulls back the hood of her clit, she hears him writing something, then there's a soft pressure on her clit and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to not react. She tells herself not to make any sounds so it won't be weird, he's just trying to study, he's not doing anything to her really.

She can feel the wetness build under his fingers as he slips them down to her entrance and back up. She hears Oscar mutter something but she can't make it out over the blood rushing through her head as he presses his fingers back against her clit. "Is this... The labia?" The laugh she lets out is half a moan, "That's the- clit. Labia are the lips." He dips his fingers down and pinches one lightly, "This?"

She's somehow endeared by the curiosity, and sighs, "Yeah. That. Minora. The outer one is majora."

Oscar lets out a little huff, "How do you know the names? You're not even taking anatomy." His fingers find her clit again, this time lightly pinching it, and her thighs tense as he mumbles, "Clit." She hears his pen scratching across his paper and then dips his finger down to her entrance and presses inside. She wonders what he's thinking as he slowly thrusts his finger in and out of her, his other hand still writing on the paper. It's not until he slips a second finger inside of her and curls them as he suddenly presses his thumb to her clit that she breaks her silence, a whimper falling from her lips as the unexpected pleasure hits her. She somehow doesn't realize then that this isn't his first time like she thought when she saw the surprised look on her face. Then she flutters her eyes open and immediately realizes it because he's already looking up at her, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. She gasps, "You- you didn't really need help, did you?"

He shrugs innocently, "I still don't know the names, could you remind me?" She can't tell if he's being serious or not as he quickens his thumb on her clit and she's saved from responding as he pushes up her body and presses his lips to hers hungrily.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

This is a fandom related thing. I will say that right off the bat, but I needed a few extra opinions on this since it feels like I am alone on this.

AITA for killing off my OC in a group rp?

For some context, I (using the name Snow for myself) joined a group rp with some other people where we would come up with a plot together. Everyone would be using original characters (OCs) It was agreed that the things that happened would be voted on, but people were not allowed to control what other people did with their OCs. It is the whole "my oc, my rules" thing. For those who don't get it, it basically means that since the oc is yours, only you get to decide what happens to them.

To the story. I had plans I wanted to do with my OC. I wrote her to be someone who was secretly working for the villains and was only tricking the others into thinking she was their friend. The only other people who were aware of this were the moderators, and they had approved of it.

What was the problem then you may be wondering? Well the problem was that another member, I'll just call them Star, had said that they had gotten an emotional attachment to my OC. Which I personally found weird, so I typically tried not to be stuck alone with them.

When it came to reveal the plot twist with my oc, Star had a freak out upon finding out. They started crying and complaining that it wasn't right to do that and they could not picture "their" emotional support character doing that. The other members decided to comfort Star. They always sided with Star and acted like they were oh so special. The others were saying that this was all just a joke and that it wasn't actually going to happen. "It is just a joke right, Snow?" they had said.

And I replied with. "No. It's not a joke. My oc has been working with the villains the whole time."

Star's response was to have a meltdown over it, saying that I was out to hurt them and ruin their day. So I ended up getting a message from the moderators asking me to change my OC's backstory as to not upset Star further. They ended up telling Star that it would be changed to just having my OC be mind controlled the whole time.

This was not something I agreed with, but I pretended to play along begrudgingly. I hated that the group decided to treat my OC like she belonged to Star. But I played along and came up with my own idea. There was a plot point that came up in the rp that would have someone die off, so I took it as my opportunity to kill off my own OC. If I wasn't allowed to do what I had planned for her initially, then she wasn't going to stick around anymore.

After I killed her off, Star logged off and vanished for an entire 3 days. All the other members constantly messaged them to try and get a response from her, but they did not answer until they returned. When they logged on, they said that they had to a panic attack over what had happened and felt hurt that I would do that.

I just responded with "my oc, my rules. I quit this group." Then I quickly went through and deleted every little bit of information I had shared about my OC with that group before leaving their discord. After, I got a lot of messages from all the members, about sending the information so that Star could continue playing with my OC since she was their comfort character and it wasn't fair I was doing this to them especially after their panic attack. I said no and blocked everyone who had asked me that.

Sure I feel bad that they had a panic attack, but I felt betrayed that everyone else was willing to bend the rules for them and allow them to control my OC. Even if I no longer use said OC, I still wouldn't let them have her. This is still my property and I stand by the "my oc, my rules" thing.

So AITA for killing off my OC?

What are these acronyms?

[immortalmrwavell]

Mr Wavell Is Back!!

Getting Terminated, My Brand New Account and How Things Will Be Moving Forwards. If you were a fan of my content please stick around and read what I’ve got to say ❤️

So as some of you may have already noticed, my original account MrWavellSwaps was terminated. This was very recent so a lot of you who followed me on there may not have even noticed yet but you can go see for yourselves. Obviously this was not my choice and was completely out of my control and when I found out I was frustrated to say the least. This account that I’d worked on for over 3 years had just been snatched away from me in a way that I personally feel was unfair. Initially I had been censored back in July this year for posting content that Tumblr believed to be against their guidelines. Or at least their automated bots thought so as what I posted that got me the censor was in a grey area at most. But despite that I tried to do right by correcting and even deleting any and all posts Tumblr had flagged even if I didn’t believe they were against guidelines just to play nice. Following which I appealed my account’s censorship only to be met with silence for months on end. That is until September 3rd where I chased up the appeal for the third time after receiving no response or updates. I was hoping to receive a turnover on the censorship but was expecting them to just say no and keep it censored. But they did the one thing I didn’t except

The email I got the next morning could be summed up like this. “You want a response? Okay. You’re terminated. Goodbye.” And I was. I tried going on Tumblr and my account was gone. Great.

I’ll be honest in the past I would’ve said that if something like this ever happened that I’d just give up with writing these stories and move on. But I don’t feel that way anymore. I think I’ve just grown so fond of this community and writing as a whole that I just don’t really want to leave yet. I’ve met so many friends through being a writer on here and even more than that I met my Boyfriend! I never could’ve expected that writing these silly gay TF stories would change my life in the ways that it has. And that said I think I’d be doing a disservice to just give up and throw it all away.

So here I am. Back again with a fresh new account.

Where am I gonna go from here you may ask. Well of course I have a large catalogue of stories already from the past couple of years and the majority of those stories are actually still floating around Tumblr thanks to all the reblogs. So it’s not like they’re gone forever which I’m glad about. However with my old account gone it feels like they’re all scattered apart. No longer together in one place. And most importantly they no longer feel like mine. Of course I still wrote them all but with this new account I no longer have any control or ownership over those posts and honestly that annoys me. Not to mention with them all coming from my terminated account, there will always be the chance that they’ll just end up getting completely wiped from the platform eventually, reblogs included.

With that said, I’ve made the decision to re-upload each and every single one of my stories to this brand new account. This way I’ll have complete ownership of these new posts. I’ll be able to edit and change them as wish and overall I believe it would just look a whole lot cleaner than if I were to just hunt down reblogs of my old stories to reblog again over here. However I genuinely see that as a positive as not only will it be better for me that way but it can also give all of you a chance to rediscover some of my older works that were perhaps buried under so many other before. And to spice things up I might even update a few of my old stories to add extra scenes and new images to go with them!

On that note I’m gonna be trying to adhere to Tumblr’s guidelines as best I can so I don’t give them any reason to pounce on me again. This means no risqué imagery from now on even if I personally believe it’s within guidelines. My writing style will remain the same however if a story is particularly steamy I may add a community label just to be safe. If you wanna learn more about community labels and how to make sure you’re still able to view labelled posts check out this post. All that said I do have a plan in mind to bring you all versions of my stories that have more explicit imagery but more on that in a moment.

For the next couple of weeks at least I plan on gradually re-uploading all of my content to this blog like I said. I may do one story a day or more than that depending on how I decide to do it. I’ll continue doing this until everything is back up under this new blog. Once all that is done I’m going to try and create a new master list where you can find links to all my posts just like before. And once that’s done I might give myself a breather for a few days and then I’ll see about posting some brand new content. Content of which I’ll be writing up while doing the re-uploads so that it’ll be ready to go once everything is caught back up. After that everything should hopefully be back to normal with my usual schedule of posting new stories and reblogging stories I enjoy!

Now. On top of this I also have plans to create a new blog or website completely outside of Tumblr. One that I can be allowed to do anything that please with and not have to tiptoe around any guidelines. This is where I’ll be uploading alternative versions of all my stories. Some of them may be exactly the same as they were on Tumblr while others may have secret images and gifs that otherwise wouldn’t have been allowed on Tumblr. I haven’t decided on all the specifics yet but once I figure it out I’ll let you all know.

And one last thing before I sign off. Recently I’ve been considering the possibility of turning this hobby of mine into a job. Now don’t worry I’d have absolutely no plans to paywall any of my content. I want everything to remain accessible for free. However I was considering opening up a place for people to leave donations and maybe even kick my Patreon off again. But most importantly I’d be considering opening up commissions. If I were to go down this route I’d likely be able to post much more consistent content for you all and make this my full time focus. It’s just an idea for now and I probably won’t set it into motion until early 2025 if I decide to go through with it but I wanted to at least share it with you all. I was actually just about to post about it on my original account until… you know hahahah.

Well I think I’ve said everything I wanted to say. Please can I ask that if you liked my stories that you please share this and my upcoming re-uploads around and let everyone know that this is my new blog. It would help a ton in getting me back on my feet on I’d really really appreciate it.

Can’t wait to get back on track and continue delivering stories to all you wonderful people out there. I love all of you and I’m so grateful to you all for following my journey so far and I hope you’ll all find me again so we can continue this together! ❤️

- Mr Wavell

[ohcorny]

hey corny. so i always see people recommending to outline their story before starting it, but could you talk a little bit more about what that means? what is an outline and how do you structure one? how long are the ones you write, depending on the project? do you focus on plot beats or feelings? how specific do you get? can u recommend any readings for learning more?

up front i don't have any resources for this, only experience. and outlines feel like one of those things where it's like... there are a million ways to do it and the way that works for me might not work for you. i have a friend who writes out all his ideas on index cards and that, for me, is insane. but he's also a better writer than me so who can say what is right or wrong.

anyway an outline is essentially a sketch but for a story. you go through the whole thing, start to finish, and figure out what goes where and what happens when. the idea is that this is the stage where you work out all the big picture stuff and make sure it all fits together, now, and not after you've drawn twenty pages and suddenly go "wait shit that doesn't work" and have to do it over. it is much easier to delete and rewrite a paragraph than to redraw several pages.

doing anything more, ie including dialogue or feelings, depends entirely on how useful that information is to you at that point in the process and whether the purpose of the outline is for your own guidance, or so somebody else can tell what you're trying to achieve.

this got really long with multiple examples

here is an excerpt from the original outline i used to pitch Hunger's Bite to publishers. this one had to be polished to a professional standard, because somebody else was going to read it and decide whether they wanted to give me thousands of dollars to tell this story. (also several of the details are no longer accurate. for instance it now takes place 9 years earlier lmao)

this paragraph represents the first eight pages of the book. the final book is 264 pages long, and the outline was 12 pages of paragraphs as dense as this one.

it establishes where we are, who's there, and what they're doing. i describe their conversation, but i don't commit to the dialogue. i will occasionally include snippets of literal dialogue, but usually only if it's Important Dialogue, or i just don't want to forget a good idea i had while outlining. it's not expected at this step.

an outline written as part of a pitch to a publisher should tell the whole story, with all the important details, and leave nothing ambiguous. they need to know the tone, shape, and the arcs. no secrets! all the spoilers. outlines for yourself should do this too, but outlines for others need to be as clear about your vision as possible. again, an outline like this exists for the purpose of getting you paid thousands of dollars. you should write it like that.

in comparison, here's an excerpt from the outline i wrote for revisions to my WIP prose novel, so i could show it to my agent (who already read the draft) to be like "do these changes sound good?" i'm not selling it to anyone yet, just making a guide so i can have a conversation about it. so it doesn't need to be neat, it just needs to be functional and clear. the first chapter was entirely new stuff. the second bit was just writing down what was already in the chapter that existed.

i have historically been very bad at outlining things when i don't think i "need" to, and only wrote this one after having written like 60k words of the book without any overall plan. i gave what i had to my agent for feedback and then sat down and figured out how i could apply it. it's made the whole revisions process significantly less daunting. now i have a checklist for things i need to do! this one was a paragraph or two for each chapter, with the ones that needed a lot of rewriting given a bit more detail.

lastly, here's a bit of the outline for the first roger crenshaw book. i was the only person who had to see this, and since the story was planned to be very short i didn't have to worry about a whole lot. as long as i knew what was supposed to go where, it would work. honestly it's not a whole lot different from the previous example.

this one was like five paragraphs and it did the job, and this story was like 15k words. you only need as much or as little as will actually help you on the page.

basically if you take nothing else from this, it's that there are multiple ways to write an outline, that it does not need to be perfect if you're doing it for yourself, and that it only needs what you think is important (unless it is for other people. then it should have everything). and also it's a good idea to do it earlier in the project than after you've written 60k words or drawn--jesus christ i got up to 12 chapters in never satisfied? it's amazing i didn't quit sooner

[kirabasai]

modern tobiizu au where izuna and tobirama are rival e-sport players. they take the competition the most seriously out of the entire league. they are a pr nightmare and definition of toxic competition because they constantly go on twitter and shit on the other. they deliberately fuel fanwars. people call them the physical embodiment of league of legends despite the fact they don't even play league of legends (leaving what game they play ambiguous).

tobirama invents new ways of playing the game and abuses bugs in competions until abusing bugs gets banned because it reached a point where he was discovering exploits faster than the devs could patch them. izuna shits on tobirama for a full twitch stream saying how tobirama needed those bugs to even match him, and he says he hates how he ended up adding a new rule to the league because of how he played. izuna doesn't even play the same as tobirama, its just the principle of the fact he got a whole new rule made.

izuna is really intuitive, he's fast at figuring out new strats and mechanics and enjoys mimicing other ppl's playstyles as a form of psychological warfare. his reaction speed is very fast; "oh, you're ambushing me? lol get rektd." he goes through mouses like his monster energy cans because he just keeps breaking them (they can't handle the stress of his intense playstyle). if he had a mouse that was actually well made, he probably would not have this problem. however, those mouses just don't feel the same as the super specific, dirt cheap $15 mouse he got down at konoha-mart (or so he insists). he has a closet filled with boxes of this mouse for when he inevitably breaks it again.

one of tobiizu's pr nightmares happened like this:

at one point izuna figured out rpf fanfiction existed so he encouraged his fans to write really bad fanfiction of tobirama. why? he wanted to send it to tobirama so he could witness tobirama snap/explode/have a conniption. psychological warfare. this wasn't too bad, actually.

until tobirama publicly tweeted a link to a 100k word slowburn fanfiction he wrote detailing a forbidden love affair between uchiha izuna, professional esport player, and uchiha madara, the retired esport player who is his team's manager and his BROTHER. izuna livestreamed himself screaming for 30 minutes straight. he cried off camera. pr for both teams scrambled as they had to clarify, no this work is not real (because some people are dumb). madara has to announce his engagement for ppl to stop thinking he and his brother r like that. he's not engaged, but the internet scrambling to figure out who his (nonexistent) fiance is makes tobirama's fanfiction fall out of focus so it works out. originally the pr team wanted izuna to come out as straight but he flat out refused because "if everyone thinks i'm straight i'm doomed to not ever have a boyfriend" (he is bi and very dramatic.) he also gets back at tobirama for this eventually with the Hacked Reddit Incident (in which he hacked tobirama's reddit acct and posted various (nonexistent) issues on various subreddits, including AITA. everyone figured out very quickly it wasn't tobirama but that didn't matter to tobi because not only was his pride wounded, those posts will forever be associated with him [because things can still circulate around the internet even after the original post is deleted])

so yeah. i think you can imagine how the fandom space is if tobiizu r pulling stunts like that off extremely frequently. (chaos. its pure chaos.) somebody is probably crying in a corner, somewhere.

at one point somebody likens tobiizu's dynamic to a boy pulling on his crush's pigtails at a playground, except for them it goes both ways and is far more extreme. this spirals into the fandoms splitting into four factions: "omg they're so in love they're adorable like little kittens", "are y'all fucking CRAZY", "im just chilling here can we pls go back to normal", and unaware. tobiizu find out very quickly, and for once don't know what to do. the pr teams are just glad its nothing negative, for once.

(tobiizu are screaming in e/o's dms like this is YOUR fault. no its YOUR fault. they dont realize it but they're acting exactly like how the person who sparked it all said.)

(they'll get there. eventually.)

(somewhere, somebody is wondering "how can two people so smart be so DUMB.")

(finished this post after over a month bcause my pookie @oh-no-its-bird asked me to here u go bestie it's finally here <3)

[jazzyblusnowflake]

You've got some cool headcanons for Nuzi and Vuzi, but what about the third? You got any for EnVy?

Wow i suck at answering these on time smh. sighhhh, in my defense i procrastinate answering some questions cuz i don't wanna just put together some random stuff and call it a day-

i actually wrote some stuff for some asks before but had to delete it last minute cuz i thought its worth putting more time than that, i guess TvT sorry, im probably taking this too seriously idk.

My eNVee headcanons TvT:

[yall know the drill, the drone versions only, the human versions aren’t involved, and no nsfw- for now.]

k so, light envuzi involved too, Uzi is the mediator here, whether u consider her a friend here or their mini toaster in the middle- also there's some of the stuff from my future version where V is safe and sound thankfully. and also maybe some stuff from their past too.

With how N was realizing that V was lying or hiding stuff from him in a constant manner, naturally he grew to grieve the loss of who V USED to be, and with that loss he tried to accept that he has to let her go, because the V he fell in love with was long gone. despite this, when they both started teasing each other over their relationship with Uzi and N started to bite back a bit at Vs behaviors with more self confidence, they grew to form a completely different kind of relationship. Uzi was just having fun seeing them try to win her over lmao; but in the end they kind of started enjoying eachothers company again. Uzi felt happy seeing them get closure for the things they went through and was more than happy to support them through it.

Back at the manor V was fixed up after J and N, she was one of the later drones added to the family, she hardly spent much time at the manor at all before the great yeetening happened- she was originally a maid drone for a family before she was broken and dumped in the drone corpse junkyard. Maid drones are programmed with sweet and soft AIs with more round/short body shapes to have a friendly image in a household, they are made to be able to deal with both adults and kids, and they are best made for cleaning and setting up the house in mind. N was made as a butler/chauffeur before getting broken and yeeted in the junkyard [yes he can drive]. Due to V getting broken for some sort of mistake during work, she was left scarred after her reboot to make any more mistakes, which left her slightly jitter-ish and clumsy. Tessa put N in charge to help her around and although at the beginning V didn't talk much and felt unsure, slowly N became her safe space- especially since Tessas abusive parents remind V alot of her old household. N in turn thought V was always cute, he helped her with her work, having more steady hands, which ended with a lot more hand touching and blushing on both their ends :p

N was the one that suggested glasses for V which Tessa decided to try doing to see if it would help her visual efficiency in any way, and it did. V as a DD often tries to rely on her real eyes rather than look through her main visor, the glasses remind her too much of N...

N and V sometimes used to get out of the manor in secret spots to spend some time away from the chaos to help V calm down. during this time they would read books, learn stuff from each others past lives, and sometimes draw lol, but V just liked watching and listening to N, she felt happy with him. although unlike N, V felt a bit nervous around the animals in the area XD

N and V actually have shared kisses, just not on the lips. with N kissing her on the back of her hand as a gentleman and V giving him kisses on his cheek [Tessa's idea of a cute plan to put them under a mistletoe lol], but Vs last words to N was a promise to give him a kiss before she became comatose. as more drones in the manor stopped working and Ns efficiency and work became less useful to the manors occupants due to him wanting to spend time with V all the time, Louisa and James started becoming more impatient with Tessa's drones, which lead to the whole "get rid of them" line...

back in the current time V is obviously trying to protect N in her own traumatized way; but even then, most of the things she had done to "shelter" N, was probably not the best choice one could make, and some of it was done out of jealousy towards N and Uzi getting closer. However, slowly she started convincing herself that N deserved someone like Uzi. V had convinced herself that she deserves nothing. She was willing to give up everything for N and keep him safe from the beginning, even if it meant knocking N down a few limbs/heads just to keep him away from danger- which is problematic in itself. she made choices based off fear and urgency. she was always traumatized.

When N and V started getting along together a bit more and hanging around a bit in the human cities- V takes N to a bookstore she found once and they spent the whole day in the shelter of the store reading different old books. V still does not admit she did this to see N happy again lol.

When N started showing V affection again, V started becoming heavily touch starved and dependent on him again, just like the manor days, which she feared, which caused a minor set back for a while where she tried to avoid N. Uzi had to come and fix this shit cuz apparently only she can scold 2 dinosaurs without feeling intimidated. after N and V kiss for the first time PROPERLY after the whole solver BS ends, V just gets more touch starved and she hates both N AND Uzi for this lmao.

N and Uzi know that one of the only ways to make V calm down is to act soft with her, occasionally praising her and calling her nice things; even when V is literally threatening to bite their head off- [shes bluffing-.......mostly.]

N is usually the one that initiates any closeness with V. after their first kiss, N does tell her that she's done stuff that he might not be able to casually forgive, but at the same time he has seen her grow, and she does have good in her that he still loves her for.

V has nightmares and hardly ever sleeps, and when she does, its usually cuddling N or Uzi.

V tries to wear her glasses more often in the future. N likes it a lot :"3

V is surprisingly a good mom :p [spoilers for my au lmao bye] but yeah, since her original OS was for a maid, she still has some functions to be good with little ones. she cant help herself, she just really likes babies and kids.

N likes sometimes ballroom dancing with V for old times sake...

[i think this is as far as my brain will allow me, please excuse me as i jump off a cliff :") ]

[mybworlds]

CHAPTER 20: EPILOGUE

status: completed

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

Masterlist

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Before to start... I got chills, this is the end. And. . . I don't know how to feel, I just want to thank you for everything. It means a lot to me ❤️

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner and thanks @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed

It has been five years since you left your small town, your home, your mother and her crazy beliefs, Joel.

Even though you're almost on the other side of the country, you've never stopped thinking about him, but most of all you've wondered what it would have been like if you hadn't seen that memorial plaque and opened that door, Joel wouldn't have yelled at you, he wouldn't have insulted you, he wouldn't have looked at you with those eyes wide open full of hatred, but now what's the point of thinking about it?

“I hate you, get out, I don't ever wanna see you again!” he thundered at you, you still remember his trembling voice and your eyes filled with tears at what you found out, at his lack of openness to you and his words.

You open the window of your hotel room, the warm air gently brushes your face and hair, you light a cigarette.

You inhale and think back to how naive you were, how the you of five years ago believed in certain things, in many wrong ideals, how you believed that love could overcome any obstacle. However, as you think back to that, you also think that basically it was love with all its nuances that brought you here, today in Seattle, where he had sort of directed you, to present your first book, the publisher even told you that if you keep it up you might win the best first-time writer award, not the Pulitzer Prize as he had joked, but it's a start.

You take another shot, you're a bit nervous, you've prepared a little monologue, you've chosen to wear a blue jacket with a shirt and jeans underneath to break it up, you don't want to look older than you are, and most of all you want to be yourself.

The book kept its original title “Bittersweet,” but unlike your ending, the one in the book after a bad fight had the two main characters reconciled within two days. He reached her before she left and asked her to stay with him, and she, precisely because she loved him above all else, stayed with him. The publisher loved that bullshit.

You remember writing it in the hope that you could experience that moment yourself, what would you have done if he had caught up with you? If perhaps as you were climbing the last steps of the plane, he had managed to reach you and begged you to stay and not leave?

You smile bitterly, you will never know. He did not come, he let you leave, he let time come between you, let silence come between you. So many times you typed his number and then deleted it, so many times you wrote long messages to send him and then trashed them, so many times you listened to his vowels again so as not to forget his voice.

Will he ever have done the same? Or will he have even deleted those few photographs of you from his cell phone? Will he have completely erased you from his life?

You swallow, you miss him.

You can tell yourself that he had a overreaction, that he was an asshole for never really trusting you, for not being honest with you, but the truth is that you can't think of him with hatred, you think of him often and never with hatred, but with regret.

You think if you hadn't snooped around in that room, he would still be with you today and you would still be at home with him, he would never have kicked you out of his house, he would never have yelled at you, he would never have vomited all those horrible things at you, he would never have called you busybody, you know he didn't mean it. You're sure he said it in anger, and when you're angry you say the worst nastiness, but later he could have called you back and asked to see you and talk about it, instead nothing, silence, a deafening useless immense silence that hurt you even more.

Leaving seemed like the best thing, the cure, but putting hundreds of miles between you, it didn't make you feel better: it certainly helped you realize your big dream, it introduced you to a lot of interesting people, but you lost the most important person to you.

You can't deny that you've also had other boyfriends throughout this time, but nothing serious. A couple were just one-night stand, then there was another, but even with him you've been for a short time, not because you didn't like him, on the contrary. He was sweet and kind, understanding, but that spark that made you want to stay with him and continue on your path together not been sparked.

You put out your cigarette in the ashtray, close the window and turn on the air conditioning, take a shower and then go straight to sleep, you must be in great shape tomorrow.

When the alarm clock goes off you feel like you have been asleep for five minutes, you feel tired and you would not want to show up for that meeting you yourself must preside over for your official debut.

The room they have set aside for you is a nice, quiet little place, characterized by exposed wooden beams with steel tie rods on the sides that give space and light to the room, there are several bookcases on either side of the meeting room and then a small stage with a desk and three chairs, one is for you, another for a woman in her fifties who acts as moderator and one more for your publisher, in front are a dozen rows of chairs. When you arrive there is already someone seated who warmly smile at you and you nervously return the smile, copies of your book are stacked on a small trolley at the side of the stage and then a copy for you on the desk ready to read some excerpts at the end of the presentation. You go to sit in the center, immediately joined by one of the Library staff who asks if you need anything besides the water she brought you, you shake your head thanking her.

Slowly, and unexpectedly, the room fills up, the editor just barely squeezes your arm with an encouraging smile sensing your nervousness, then whispers in your ear, "It's going to be okay." you smile tightening your lips nodding, then take a deep breath and look towards the audience, "Good morning everyone! " you greet and are immediately greeted by everyone in the audience, then the moderator takes the floor and introduces you, you lower your gaze for a moment nervously clasping your hands, then you hear the woman conclude by saying, "Well, I'll leave the floor to you now, more applause." you smile then say, "Thank you Becca for what you said, you are so dear. When I started writing, I had a stone age computer!" you make a joke and smile "Not everyone approved of my need to write, to tell the reality around me or sometimes to read it and narrate it as I hoped it would be. " you swallow feeling your throat dry, you take a deep breath "Then, someone one day..." your breath stops as your eyes set on the last person you thought you would see at your introduction, you almost open your lips wide in amazement, it's Joel, he's there, standing at the back of the room.

Someone coughs, someone looks in the direction of your gaze, you clear your throat realizing that you need to start talking again "Um... sorry, as I was saying, um... someone gave me a computer one day, a decent computer with which I was finally able to write as and how much as I wanted, he never stopped me from writing, in fact, he even lent me his house so that he could help me write! " you exclaim, then look up at him and lower your gaze "And I snooped around his house in return," you whisper, losing yourself for a moment in that memory, in those angry eyes and at the memory of those hands that yanked you and almost threw you out of that room.

Your editor coughs "Yes, um...what our brilliant writer wants to say is that..."

You resume "What I want to say is that if I hadn't had that person's help," and this time you look intentionally toward Joel "I wouldn't be here today, if it weren't for him I would never have started writing the first draft of Bittersweet, I wouldn't have met you today; so, I say to that person thank you" then you go back to look at your small audience as well "and thank you if you'd like to read me, thank you. " a shy applause rises in the room and you smile quickly at the audience, but then turn your attention immediately to Joel, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black t-shirt.

Your heart is pounding, oh how you missed him!

The editor says your name, "Would you like to read us an excerpt?"

"Sure," you reply, opening the book at a point you had already chosen, and now that Joel is there, it seems more than appropriate that he listens, you clear your throat "She had never believed that her handsome prince, the man who had rescued her, discovered her, helped her, healed her, loved her, could suddenly reveal himself in a nature that was entirely new and unsettling to her. His eyes became so dark that they seemed to want to swallow her, she had entered his innermost, most painful recess of his heart and had struck him so hard that the man's reaction had been to attack her in return. Ella could not believe that she had been so wrong, that she had not understood the man she had been with at all, and yet the man's violent reaction had just told her to flee, to go away from him, because he doesn't want her there, in that place, she's the wrong person to be able to share this secret with him. Oh, how much pain Ella felt, she trembled for a day and a night," out of the corner of your eye you catch a movement, you look up and Joel is gone, maybe you hit the nail, maybe you were wrong again, you don't know. The fact is, he's gone, turning his back on you. Again.

The presentation is ruined, yes the audience applauds you and the publisher applauds you too, you smile, but inside you feel dead, wrong, humiliated, still. You sign at least forty copies, and part of you hopes that he is also in line to get his book signed, but he is not there. He couldn't have been a hallucination, right?

Your editor walks you to the car giving you lots of compliments again, smiles at you, has encouraging words and indeed tells you that for your next writings, he will be there, you can only be glad, you need an ounce of support from someone. You then get into your car and drive back to your hotel, you think back to his dark eyes, his now very visible wrinkles, his slightly longer patchy beard with a few gray hair, his broad shoulders, you think about how you wished that, at the end of the presentation, he was there outside at the library and hugged you apologizing and asking you not to leave each other again. You are a fool, you think, wiping away the tears blurring your vision.

In the lobby, however, you find another surprise that is very welcome to you, your three wacky friends are there now more mature - perhaps - but certainly changed as well, but still so cheerful, exuberant and always knowing how to bring good cheer, even on the darkest and saddest of days. They hug you, ask for your autograph, take a lot of selfies and post your photos on social media with the strangest and most curious hashtags that, however, end up making you quite clicked and searched for on your Instagram pages. You tell everything you missed about each other, about your happy moments and sad ones, they update you about their private lives and their small successes in the everyday, you are happy for them, for all of them.

And you? Are you happy for yourself?

When it is now almost midnight, you say goodbye to them, they have not found a place in your hotel, but in one a few blocks from it and so after a long silent hug you say goodbye and they leave, you ask for the key to your room and slowly walk up the stairs, you don't want to take the elevator, you need to walk and when you reach the hallway, you find someone you didn't think you would see again in the same day, Joel.

He is leaning against the wall next to your room, he looks up, and you find your eyes bore into him at a very short distance apart. You haven't seen him so closely in so long, and for one long moment you feel like that time never really passed. You find yourself swallowing hard and moving closer, you lower your gaze only to insert the key in the lock of the room, then you look up again "What are you doing?" you ask him.

"I wanted to talk to you," he replies.

"Now?" you question.

"It's important," he says, moving away from the wall.

You let your gaze wander from his dark eyes to his full, soft lips, then lift it back to his eyes "I don't think I want to listen to you right now," you say, opening the door.

"No, now!" he exclaims putting a hand on your forearm "Please " he adds in a softer tone.

Your heart beats hard in your chest, you are about to say yes to him, but then you reconsider "No, you waited five years, you can wait until morning and now leave me!" you exclaim releasing from his grip and entering the room. You make to immediately close the door behind you, but Joel resists by pushing the door and entering, you take a few steps back as he closes the door behind him.

Joel sighs, then looks into your eyes murmuring your name, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you look at him with sad eyes, shaking your head "I wish... I wish that... that - but what the hell do you want from me now? Why now?" you feel the blood boiling in your veins, the pain, the bitterness, the shame, the sense of emptiness all pour out at once and lead you to hit Joel full in the chest, you push him, you give him a series of repeated punches on his mighty chest, and you find yourself repeating aloud, "Why? Why? Why?" your eyes fill with tears.

Joel places his hands on yours stopping them and engulfing between his own, "Please, baby, listen to me, please," he begs wrapping your face in his hands and wiping away the tears that have taken flight down your cheeks "You have no idea how sorry I am, baby girl, I'm so sorry, please forgive me."

"Why did you wait five years? Five years, not five days or five weeks, but five years, you abandoned me, you allowed me to live alone, you made me feel stupid, I felt..."

"Empty." he completes for you, "I've felt that way every day since my daughter's been gone, always. Then you came along and brought light and warmth and love, I felt loved, so loved, and I was a fool for not recognizing this, if you don't want anything to do with me anymore, I understand." he tells you staring into your eyes and stroking your cheeks "It'd be obvious. I wouldn't fight it or look for you anymore, but I wanted to tell you. Sorry it took me so long."

You shake your head, "You know it's too late now, right?"

He nods lowering his eyes and then raising them again, "I know." he replies, but contrary to what he just told you, he kisses you, his lips are soft against yours, and even though you told him it's too late for you, you can't help but return that kiss, you missed him too much to repress everything all the way.

"It doesn't change anything," you say resting your forehead against his "It doesn't change what you put me through, how you made me feel..." you add kissing him again and this time more impetuously "I hate you," you tell him between kisses clenching your t-shirt in your fists as he slips one hand into your hair bringing you even closer to him and with the other he encircles your waist.

"Forgive me." he sighs with his eyes closed, "No." you reply out of breath.

"I would make love to you if it wasn't too late..." he confides to you, "Yeah." you reply again raising your eyes to meet his "I would too..." you add "But I hate you..." you say again, but your tone falters.

"I love you." he tells you, moving a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I hate you." you repeat again, but in an increasingly less convinced tone.

"I love you." he repeats again.

"I--" you falter, "Joel," you whisper clutching at him and grasping in the fist of your hands his T-shirt even more forcefully as if to keep him from escaping.

"I'm here," he says under his breath, "My love."

You tighten your grip even more on his shirt, "I never stopped thinking about you," you confess to him.

"Neither have I, baby." he whispers softly "I know what I did changed our relationship forever, but..." the words die in his throat when he sees you take just a half step back and slip off your jacket and unbutton your shirt without taking your eyes off his that become, as you remembered, two dark pools in which you now just want to drown.

You remain in your bra and with your jeans still on, you move closer, it's your turn to sink your hands into his hair and kiss him, you feel him hesitantly and almost shakily place his hands on your back one at the base of your back and the other between your shoulder blades, "Babe," you coo through your lips "it won't..." you're about to say, but he lays another kiss on your lips.

"It won't happen again, I swear," he tells you, looking for your eyes, "if you still want me."

"You swear?" you ask feeling another tear take flight, so many emotions you are feeling at that moment.

"On my life. I will never, never, never leave you again." he repeats caressing one cheek and placing a kiss on the tip of your nose "I love you, darlin', forgive me, it will never happen again."

You smile, you really smile after five years, it feels as if that bitter sweet feeling that had accompanied you for five years has been washed away and serenity has returned, love in his arms, in his sweet kisses, in his caresses, you have found each other eyes to eyes and you have promised yourself that never again and for no reason in the world would you be separated from him or allow someone or something to divide you. You are together now.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

(Ignore the fact that this is a screenshot of this ask, lmao, I posted this before I was ready on accident (my app updated and I pressed post rather than safe as a draft because the buttons moved and I'm dumb like that, lol) and didn't have time right then to write what I wanted to for this so I just screen-shotted, then deleted the original post. It's fine, haha. It's here now.)

This reminded me of a fic I wrote a while ago! It's not big dick Steve and it's not mocking in a fun way (in the past, instead, people have been cruel about such a big dick), but... it's big dick Bucky who gets lightheaded when he gets a hard one with size queen Steve praising him and making him feel like no one else, so I just think it's something you might enjoy as well:

"Strangers Who Fit Together More Like Soulmates"

Now, though, YES, we can talk about big dick Steve who gets light-headed and thoughtless whenever he's hard:

If Bucky were feeling confessional, he would describe the way he feels like this--luxuriously pressing his chest up against Steve's broad back and gluing his hips to bubble butt--and, oh, boy, is it a lot of feeling. He can feel the slow, thick rush of his blood through his body, turning the heat up to a feverish, summer level--the kind of summer night that you spend sweating, lying back on your bed over top of your sheets. After all, it's that humid and sticky. So hot that you're thinking about how bad it would really be if some monster came up and snagged your uncovered ankle because... it can't fucking be as bad as this heat. He's fucking hot.

Sweating.

Bucky can feel that, too, his sweat pooling on his skin underneath his clothes. Steve has to be sweating, too. They're going to have to peel apart...eventually. But more pressingly than the heat and sweat and flush afflicting him, he can feel the strain and twinge in his wrist. His muscles ache as he grips and strokes, jacking Steve off while he pretends to be able to wash the dishes. And Bucky hasn't even been at this teasing torture for long!

You'd think after so many months of getting so, so intimately aquatinted with Steve's monster cock, that his body would be used to it. But his body isn't--it still doesn't know what's hit it because he's colliding, regularly, with a fucking semi-truck. Bucky doesn't stand a chance.

With another handful of fast, sloppy strokes that tease more than feel satisfying, Steve sways forward into the counter with a low, aching noise. It's like a tree threatening to fall, Bucky swears it. His big, big body and matching cock. Bucky could climb him like a tree if not for how unsteady Steve gets whenever he's turned on.

The way he twitches and weakens leaves Bucky's arm pinned between Steve's body and the counter, one of the sharp points of Steve's hips and the equally sharp edge of the countertop dig into Bucky. He doesn't care. He's ignoring that ache alongside the lactic acid building up in his muscles--that acid, too, stokes the flames inside him, he burns hot--Bucky murmurs, husky into Steve's ear, "biiiiig boy, yeah, that's it." He won't stop teasing him, no matter how much his arm complains or how stuck it gets.

Instead, Bucky switches tactics, he didn't start this ambush for nothing. So, he squeezes him with his whole hand. He can't touch all of him like this, but it doesn't matter. More than a handful. Regardless, it's more than enough for Steve to be gripped and grabbed based on how he jerks forward quickly, gasping low, under his breath with a barely there huff of, "Buck-!"

Bucky pays his breathy sound no mind, replacing it in the tension-thick air between them with his own words, "I fucking love feeling you swell up in my hand," Steve moans, dropping a thankfully plastic container with a clatter, "gimme it, baby," Bucky goads him, hyping him up, giving up the pretense of just an innocent reach-around-and-cop-a-feel to an all-out fuck-session. "Gimme it. I wanna feel it." Bucky squeezes his hand around his shaft under his sweatpants. Steve's gone from soft and sweet to solid and thick so fast that Bucky's fingers no longer meet around his dick. "One day," Bucky muses, stretching onto his tip-toes to whisper right in Steve's ear, letting his lips brush his skin just a little, just enough to make him shudder, "I'm gonna shove you in me when you're half hard and I'm just gonna sit on this fat cock," Bucky squeezes unforgivingly until Steve makes a stupid guh sound, punched-out, "feeling it get bigger in me."

Steve shivers again, this time more intense. Oh, yeah, he's getting weaker.

Bucky nips at the hot shell of his ear, already turning red. How he still has enough blood in his body to blush while his cock fills up so heavy and thick will remain a mystery to Bucky.

"How's that sound, huh?" He teases.

Steve just whimpers.

Bucky had to get on his tip-toes before, but he relaxes now because Steve is falling, slowly, uncontrollably slouching down the counter. He'll end up on the floor if Bucky keeps going, getting dizzy as his blood finally decides it all has to go where Bucky wants it... in this nice, fat dick.

There's no harm in speeding the process up, making him dizzy, "you're such a slut with this huge thing, getting it up so fast, so often."

"Buck!" Steve gasps again, his muscle-bound body pressed so harshly against the restricted pressure and friction of Bucky's hand in his pants that Bucky starts to feel sharp tingles in his fingers, pins and needles that somehow make the silky hard sensation of Steve's dick in his hand sweeter.

"I can't believe you. I can't believe how slutty you are," Bucky kisses the nape of his neck lushly, then he scrapes his teeth against the top bump of his spine when Steve lets his head hang, the rest of him wilting as his dick swells. "Do you know how eager you are? You'll fucking crumble to your knees for me any time, any day, all I gotta do is get that blood flowing south and you're a goner, babyy--"

Steve inhales so shakily it sounds like he's at the end of a really good cry.

Perfect.

Bucky uses his weakness, his going limp, to his advantage, curling his other hand around his cinched waist to pull him back--giving himself more room to work. That way his hand doesn't tingle so much as he works hard to stroke all the way up and all the way down that big fucking gun he's packing in his sweats. Armed and dangerous.

Steve, with this little (not so little) head talking louder than his big head, lets him move him. Mold him. Stroke him. Jerk him off. Faster. harder.

He slouches another inch. his hands have long since stopped trying to clean their dishes, instead, wet and sudsy, he's gripping the edges of the sink for dear life.

"Should I get you a fainting couch, big guy?" The more he talks, the wider Bucky's Cheshire smile stretches. He's sure he looks feral, how could he not? The weight of his dick in his hand, more and more of Steve's whole body weight pressing back against Bucky, leaning into his chest, letting him have it all. "'Cause we sure as shit need something to catch you when you fall every time I bend over and you see my ass? You fuckin' horndog."

Steve scrambles, suddenly, to touch him. His dish-water-soaked, red-hot hands the size of dinner plates wrap themselves around both of Bucky's forearms. Bucky feels the squeeze as he jerks him slower but harder, much less teasing and more pleasuring. Steve is unsteady. Bucky is all that's holding him up and he won't be able to for long, he's fucking heavy. When his cock twitches in his grip once, twice, leaving Bucky with a mouth full of drool, he starts taking his big guy toward the living room. Walking slow and carefully--pushing really. Pushing this fucking tank toward the nearest soft place for him to crash.

"I can't fucking believe you, big boy," Bucky's mouth runs as he goes, "where do you keep this thing?" As he says it, he goes alllll the way from the base to the tip. Bucky still can't believe how long and how thick he is. He feels like it's a fucking joke. When he first saw Steve naked, he couldn't pick his jaw up off the floor. He thought, o-fucking-kay, you're a show-er then? But as he got to touch and taste and explore, running wild. And it turns out Steve's actually a grower, and then Bucky couldn't only not close his mouth but he couldn't speak. He couldn't fit the whole thing in his mouth and stuffed down his throat either.

"How do you fit it in your pants?" The questions pour out as they get into the living room, Steve stumbling worse now, dizzier. He wouldn't be able to differentiate up from down if he tried, Bucky's pretty sure. The only up and down he knows is Bucky's fist fighting to stretch around his cock, Bucky's mouth gaping to suck him down, Bucky's asshole struggling to swallow him whole. Up and down, up and down, up and down--bouncing on that unreal cock. "How do you fit it in me? I can't believe you do, every time I look at it. Jesus Christ."

For such a big guy, his voice is so cute and small, mewling, whining, and pawing at him with clumsy hands, trying to get him to do more than talk and jerk him off. He wants faster. He wants more. Slut.

"It's good you go so dumb, baby," Bucky murmurs, taking his hands off him and throwing him onto their couch instead. Tiiiimber, Bucky snickers to himself, watching him bounce on the couch. The springs squeak and Steve whimpers, writhing with the unfair treatment. Why'd you stop?, those huge puppy dog eyes, rimmed red, threatening to spill tears, ask. "'Cause if you didn't get so dumb, you'd get some big ideas of doing the work, wouldn't you?"

Steve's too out of it to nod, but it doesn't matter. Bucky doesn't need his silly little input, all he needs is that cock, that gorgeous body, and the stupid expression on his face--eyelids heavy, mouth slack, cheeks hot.

Out. of. it.

"And we can't have that!" He bites, teasing as he climbs onto Steve's prone, sprawled form, straddling his tree-trunk thighs and unceremoniously shoving his sweats down just to watch that horse cock bounce up and slap his clenching tummy. Steve's chest heaves, a wail ripped out of him and causing him to almost double over. Bucky shoves him back, "if you're thinking, you're trying to finger me open and you're just too impatient with a dick like that."

Steve makes some garbled noise, it sounds like he's drowning.

Bucky chuckles, half-amusement, half-breath, throwing his head back with it. He's enjoying himself so fucking much, his hands working that cock and his hips grinding against Steve's solid thigh. "I gotta stretch myself open for you with a dick like what you got. I, I gotta drag it out," he pauses to moan, still grinding, "'cause I'd split at the seams with dick if I didn't get nice and loose for you."

Steve bucks underneath him, nearly throwing him off. It just makes Bucky chuckle more--more moan and breath in the sound. He's so sweet and dumb. Nothing matters to him like this, blissed out, and it's so easy to get him here that it's a wonder Bucky doesn't keep him like this all the time. Yeah, that sounds good, a living, breathing, fuck-machine.

There's no lube over here, though, so unfortunately, Bucky can't start getting sloppy and loose for his human dildo. He'll just have to do the next best thing and jack him off until he cums, then, once he's pumping buckets all over himself, Bucky can scoop it up and use it, along with all his eager, slippery pre-cum to slick himself up so Steve can fill him fuller. More dick. More cum.

It won't be hard to get Steve there--

"If only that brain was as big as that big dick, hm, sweetie? Then maybe you could actually get something done rather than just letting me lead you around by the cock."

Steve whines roughly.

--yeah. No sweat. Give Bucky a challenge, c'mon.

[overtrred28]

Stargirl | matildas x original character fic [part nineteen]

Words; 3.2k

Pairings; matildas team x astrid taylor (OC)

Warnings; mentions of death (parental), mentions of car accident, mention of drink driving, mention of panic attack, swearing

A/N; I wrote the idea for the second half of the chapter like 6 months ago and this is the timing I planned before writing the first half, so I' m sorry for the emotional whiplash this chapter is about to cause you. Please read with caution if you think any part of this may trigger you and be safe. Enjoy my loves 🫶

masterlist

Astrid had gotten into bed approximately two hours ago after finishing their team dinner, deciding to call it and all head up to bed. When she entered the room she was exhausted from the game and celebrating their win, but dragged herself into the bathroom for her night routine before finally flopping into bed.

But as soon as her head hit the pillow her eyes were wide open. She was so tired physically, but her mind was up and busy. No matter how hard she tried, after the first thirty minutes she gave in and decided to let it run. Thoughts began racing through her about tonight's game, seeing her family again, how she felt when Kyra hugged her after her goal and eventually she ended up back at New Years Eve.

Astrid might have been quite drunk that night, but there wasn’t a single second she couldn’t recall, especially their kiss. That kiss played in the back of her mind every time she looked at Kyra, no matter how hard she tried to push it back. Often lying awake at night after club training because of how many times they had caught one another staring before looking away as if they hadn’t been. 

She still wondered if Kyra remembered the kiss or not, never daring to ask her in the case of embarrassing herself because Kyra had no clue or didn’t want to remember it. Her feelings towards Kyra were so confusing for her brain; she was her best friend, just like Charli or Courtney. But she couldn’t deny the way her fingers tingle when Kyra laces them with her own, or the blush that begins to spread across her cheeks when Kyra compliments her. 

The thoughts continued to spiral as she laid there in the darkness. She couldn’t go on like this. So with a frustrated groan, she sat up and grabbed her phone, turning on the bedside lamp and opening Kyra’s messages. 

Starry ⭐

are you awake?

Ky ky 🪁

no 

Starry ⭐

fuck off

Ky Ky 🪁

whats up? u ok?

Starry ⭐

…

Astrid kept writing something but deleting it, unsure of what to actually say now that she had gotten Kyra’s attention. 

Kyra sat in her room a couple doors down, a similar positioning to Astrid but nervously watching as the dreaded three dots kept appearing then disappearing. So without hesitation she threw the covers off, slid on her shoes and quietly slipped from her room, making her way down the hall. 

Tap tap tap

Astrid’s head whipped up at the noise, not expecting someone to be at her door at 1:34am, dropping her phone with another half finished text and scurrying to the door. Two seconds of looking through the peephole and her door was swinging open and she had her grip on Kyra’s arm instantly. 

“The hell are you doing?” Astrid sighed as she dragged Kyra in, checking the empty hallway before shutting her door quietly. 

“Can’t sleep either?” Kyra asks as she sits down on the edge of the bed, Astrid now standing in front of her, walking softly back and forth.

“No. Thinking too much.” Astrid mumbles the end, avoiding eye contact with Kyra as she paces. 

“About what?” Kyra’s been thinking about that night just as much, wondering what it means or could mean. Astrid slows her pacing, stopping silently in front of Kyra, looking to the floor as she thinks of how to word it.

“Do you remember?” Asks timidly, looking up at the midfielder, trying to read her expression.

“Remember what?” Kyra tries to hide her smirk as she teases Astrid. 

“Don’t fuck with me okay.” Astrid is clearly stressed out of this, the biting of her nails increasing over the past two months, especially right now. Kyra is quiet for a moment.

“Every day.” It’s quick and quiet, Astrid barely hears the two words, eyes widening as she processes it. Kyra looks up with a small smile.

“Every day?” Astrid looks at Kyra with hope in her eyes, heart racing with anticipation.  

“I’ve thought about it every second since.” Kyra now mumbles, standing up to meet Astrid, stepping close to her. 

“Good.” Astrid smirked as she held Kyra’s hands in hers, both meeting each other's eyes. 

Time almost stopped as they stood there, almost slow motion as their heads moved closer together. Kyra finally took the reins and closed the gap, moving her hands to Astrid’s waist and pulling her closer. Astrid melted into the kiss, hands travelling up to hold Kyra’s face and keep the kiss going. 

It lasted longer than their first, but it was more meaningful as they stood in Astrid’s hotel room, holding onto each other as if they were afraid to let go. They broke apart when they needed air, pushing their foreheads together as they took time to breathe. It wasn’t long before Astrid’s brain began running again. 

“Kyra…” She paused, lifting her head to look at her. “What does this mean?” Worried about losing their friendship as if that could ever happen.

“I don’t know. Whatever we want?” Kyra suggests, causing them both to giggle. 

“Go back to your room idiot.” Astrid gently pushed Kyra’s shoulder with a smile. “I might actually be able to sleep now.” She laughed and Kyra raised a brow. 

“Was it that boring huh?” Kyra snickered, folding her arms over her chest. 

“I mean… it wasn’t the worst kiss I’ve had.” Astrid smirked, stepping closer. “I guess you might just have to try again, see if it’s any better.” She cocked her head to the side, expecting Kyra to come closer again. 

“Sorry,” Kyra stepped back to the door, fake yawning with a stretch. “Too tired.” She blew Astrid a kiss as she shut the door quietly, leaving Astrid shaking her head with smile and a blush on her cheeks. Safe to say she had no trouble falling asleep when her head hit the pillow this time. 

Over the next few days at camp, Astrid and Kyra seemed back to how they were before the new years kiss, practically attached at the hip and annoying their other teammates. But even with all their playing around, their minds were focused on preparing for the Spain game that was now tomorrow.  

The bus pulled up to the CommBank Stadium for their final day of training and it was like Astrid had an instant mood change, switching into focus mode as she remembered the last time up against the Spanish side. 

Astrid was determined to not let what happened last time happen again, especially now they had their full team and she personally had more experience in the Matildas squad. 

All the other girls noticed her mood change that always appeared at their final training session before a match, minimising her laughter and childlike actions and replacing them with quiet, focused actions and determination. Even separating herself from Kyra, Charli or Courtney to pair up with a new partner, today that being Clare Hunt. 

Astrid was still quiet when working with Clare for those few minutes, focusing more on her footwork being precise rather than the topics of conversation floating around them. Clare tried a few times to loosen her up, but nothing could get through to her. Her mind was set on improving any more than she could and preventing what happened last year in Spain. 

It was in the practice matches that her determination and focus was evident to everyone watching, her feet were fast, her passes clean as ever and even slotted 5 goals past Macca from various positions.

“Nice work today, Chicken.” Steph had run up behind Astrid who was the last to leave the pitch, pulling an arm around her shoulder and walking in step with her. “Clearly ready to smash Spain huh?” Steph chuckled, rubbing her hand over Astrid’s arm.

“Thanks. Don’t want a repeat of last year.” Astrid mumbled the end and Steph could sense she was still in her head. 

“Well I think that’s out of the question considering how we looked today, as a team.” Steph emphasised the word team, knowing Astrid sometimes needed a reminder that not everything was up to her. 

“Yeah. Thanks Stephy.” Astrid pulled an arm around the older girl's waist as they continued walking back to the changeroom, letting go once she spotted Kyra, sitting next to her while untying her boots. 

“Sit with me on the bus?” Kyra asked as she bumped Astrid’s shoulder, causing her to look up from her boots. 

“Of course.” Astrid smiled back, Kyra nodded and continued to pack everything up, waiting for Astrid to finish up and walk out together. They were the last on the bus meaning the seats up the front but they didn’t mind. Normally they would be singing out and dancing in their seats, bothering everyone else. But today they sat in silence, sitting next to each other with separate playlists and enjoying one another's company. 

After a few minutes Astrid kept her gaze away, slowly moving her hand, inching it closer to the gap between them and where Kyra’s hand rested, the brunette distractedly looking out the window. Her attention was called back when she felt that familiar tingle as Astrid’s fingers began to slowly intertwine with her own. 

She felt blush rise to her freckled cheeks as their fingers meddled, discreetly readjusting to comfortably lock their hands together, all while keeping her gaze out the window and upon the landscape outside. 

After returning to the hotel, the girls took to their individual rooms and showered before preparing for their pre match ritual pasta night, changing into comfy clothes before heading down to the dining room. 

Astrid was finishing up her dinner when her phone rang. She didn’t recognise the number appearing on the screen, preparing to ignore it but a part of her knew to answer it. She quickly excused herself from the dining room, stepping into an empty hallway, Steph watching her closely as she left. 

“Hello?” She spoke as she answered it. 

“Is this Astrid Taylor?” The woman’s voice sounded serious in tone. 

“Yes it is. Who is this?” Astrid leant partially on the wall, awaiting her answer.  

“My name is Kate Smith from the New South Wales police force.” Kate spoke and Astrid immediately froze, standing up straighter from the wall. “I am calling to inform you that your parents, Mark and Joanna Taylor were involved in an accident.” Astrid's heart dropped to her stomach. 

“What?” Her voice was small and shaky. 

“A drunk driver collided with their car whilst driving tonight.” Kate paused. “They both sustained serious injuries in the collision and the paramedics were unable to save them by the time they reached the scene. I am very sorry for your loss-” 

The voice grew quiet as the phone fell from Astrid’s hand, Kate still talking but all noises faded into the background as Astrid froze. In a matter of seconds her life stopped. 

She was in shock, unable to move as a tear fell silently down her face. She stood in the empty hallway as the voice filtered through her phone but Astrid couldn’t hear a single thing. Eventually Kate hung up after not hearing any response from Astrid and she was left in the silence.

Steph began to grow worried at her younger teammates' disappearance, getting up from the table and walking out to where Astrid had gone minutes ago. Her brows furrowed as she couldn’t hear her speaking to someone on a phone. Her head went around the corner first, spotting Astrid very still, staring blankly down the hallway, tears falling down her face and phone flat on the floor. She immediately rushed over and as the older girl came closer, Astrid fell back into consciousness. 

“Hey, hey. What happened?!” Steph held Astrid’s face in her hands, searching her eyes with a worried look on her own face. Astrid took a shuddered breath in as she stared at Steph, more tears falling rapidly now. 

“M-my parents-” She whispered once she found her voice, pausing to let more air into her lungs.  

“What?” Steph softly urged for her to continue, worry and panic beginning to set in.

“There was an accident.” Her lip quivered as she spoke. “They’re gone.” Astrid finally spat it out, a loud sob escaping her chest as her knees buckled and she fell to the floor, Steph going down with her. Steph didn’t know what to say, only being able to bring Astrid closely into her chest as she finally broke down. Her chest heaved as she sobbed into Steph’s chest, gripping her shirt tightly. 

“Shhhh, shhhhh. I got you, I got you.” Steph smooths Astrid’s hair, holding her tightly as her own heart broke, silent tears falling down her face as she attempts to sooth the young girl. She just let her cry and cry and cry, staying silent as she held Astrid. 

She felt so much in the span of such little time. She was sad, heartbroken, angry and lost. Astrid didn’t know what to do, her parents were gone. She was with them celebrating at her home stadium just three days ago and now they were gone. She couldn’t even think, her mind was blank as she sat there in Steph’s arms.

Her breathing went back to normal and sobs subsided, easing her grip on Steph but staying pressed to her chest and listening to her heartbeat to calm her. 

“I’m so sorry.” Steph whispered, pressing a kiss to Astrid’s head who screwed her eyes shut and fresh tears fell down her face. “Come with me puddin’.” Steph spoke after another moment of silence, wanting to get them both to a quiet place away from the team next door. Astrid nodded once and let go of the older girl’s hoodie, slowly getting up from the floor with Steph’s help, still holding onto her close. 

“Kyra.” Astrid mumbled softly while sniffling, Steph leaning closer to hear her.

“Hey, chicken?” Steph asked softly, brushing the stray hairs from Astrid’s face. 

“Kyra, please.” She whispered again as she wiped her tears. 

“I’ll text her to come up okay?” Steph picked up Astrid’s forgotten phone from the ground and placed it in her pocket with her own, guiding Astrid towards the lifts and pressing the button for their team floor. Steph quickly shot Kyra a text, telling her to get up to Astrid’s room now. 

Steph walked them inside the room and sat against the headboard of Astrid’s bed, guiding the lost girl to lay her head across her lap. Astrid held onto Steph’s legs, the older girl ran her fingers softly through her loose hair as they waited for Kyra. 

A soft knock sounded, Steph slowly moving Astrid off her lap so she could open the door. Astrid laid frozen on the bed, falling back into shock as it began to process in her mind.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Kyra panicked when she saw Steph’s tearful eyes, panting slightly from running to the room. The older girl didn’t speak before stepping out of the room, taking herself and Kyra into the hallway.

“Her parents were in an accident. Drunk driver.” The words left Steph’s lips and Kyra’s heart sunk.

“Are they okay? Did they get hurt?” Kyra hurriedly asked but as soon as she took in Steph’s expression she knew. “No.” Her voice was barely above whisper at the realisation. 

“She needs you.” Steph looked her in the eyes, Kyra nodding in understanding. She walked through the door and her heart broke even more seeing Astrid curled up on the bed facing away from her. Kyra silently slipped off her shoes before walking over to the bed, slowly laying down beside Astrid. 

Astrid felt the bed dip and a body behind her, arms wrapping around her and she could tell who it was, letting her body naturally fall back into the other. 

“I got you.” Kyra whispered, bringing her hand up to Astrid hair and running her fingers through it. Those three words brought all the feelings back to Astrid and she allowed herself to break down again, Kyra holding her tightly as she cried in her arms. 

Steph stood in the doorway watching the pair, noting how easily they slipped into the comfort of one another and how quickly Astrid could be calmed by the sounds of Kyra’s soft voice. In all honesty, Steph had never seen the pair so quiet when with one another; despite the current situation. 

They eventually rolled over and Astrid laid her head against Kyra’s chest, falling asleep to the sound of her heartbeat. Steph had left the room when Astrid was finally asleep, going to find Tony and let him know. Safe to say the man was heartbroken for his youngest player, but ready to support her however he could. 

Astrid woke up a bit later, still laying against Kyra’s chest as the soft strokes to her hair brought her back to reality. The room was silent bar their soft breaths. For the first few seconds she didn’t remember what had happened but it all quickly came rushing back.

“I should tell the girls.” Her words were soft and slightly startled Kyra who thought Astrid was still asleep. 

“You don’t have to do anything.” Kyra continued to brush her fingers through her hair, looking down at her best friend who was now staring blankly at the wall next to them.

“I want to. They’re as much my family as…” She trailed off, her eyes glossing over once again, finally looking up at Kyra. Kyra moved her hands to hold Astrid’s face, thumb swiping gently over the tears that began to fall. 

“I’m so sorry Star.” Kyra bit her lip as she met Astrid’s teary eyes, trying not to break in front of her. “What can I do for you?” Astrid shook her head. 

“I don’t even know what to do.” Astrid turned to look out the window, taking a breath in, closing her eyes and letting the breath go. Without another word Astrid got up off her bed, Kyra moving seconds behind her. 

No one expected to see Astrid after hearing news that something personal had happened, but neither Tony or Steph explained what, all thinking she would go home and have time with her family. So when they saw her walk into the common room with a blank expression on her red, tear stained face, it’s safe to say they were all shocked.

Astrid stood in the middle of the room, a large hoodie placed over her body despite the warm weather outside, holding the sleeves over her hands that played nervously with one another. Kyra stood behind her but slightly further back, giving her some space. 

“My parents… we’re in an accident.” She spoke softly into the quiet room, a few small gasps were heard, some girls were ready to ask questions but Astrid spoke again. “They couldn’t save them.” She let out a shaky breath and another tear fell as her heart shattered again by saying the words. 

They didn’t know whether to hug her or whether she needed time and space. But when they saw her eyes searching their faces, they knew. It was Cortnee who stood up first, walking over slowly in case that wasn’t what she wanted. But locking eyes with Cortnee and seeing more tears rising to her eyes again, they knew what she needed. 

One by one, the girls stood and found her in the middle of the room, piling in on top of one another and holding onto her, giving her all the love a family could provide in this time, because that’s what they were; family. 

to be continued...

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

341 days of foreplay

A/N: this used to be my most popular fic on here before I accidentally deleted everything. originally posted back in march/april, was some of the first smut I ever wrote, so keep that in mind, there's probably so many mistakes in this, I haven't edited it. also I changed the title, it used to be called i should've worshipped you sooner (gif in the moodboard is by my love @fightingdragonswithwho )

summary: Spencer overhears his roommate, Y/n, confess her true feelings for him.

warnings: Spencer Reid x reader, smut, roommates, drinking, chess, love confessions, kissing, orgasm denial, alcohol consumption, oral (male and female receiving), impact play, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, creampie, cumplay, dirty talk, praise, degradation, choking, spit kink, overstimulation, dom Spencer vibes 

word count: 3911

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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You had been Spencer’s roommate for almost a year now, and for all of that time, you’d been hopelessly in love with him.

You often think that if his work didn’t take him out of state so often, you’d probably come clean about your feelings much sooner.

It was Friday night, and Spencer still hadn’t come home yet, from California you think you remember him texting you a few days ago? So here you were, in the kitchen, trying to open a bottle of wine. 

“You really shouldn’t mix wine and beer”, your friend’s voice boomed from your phone.

“Well, what do you want me to do, Eleanor? Just stop drinking after 2 beers?” you mocked, struggling with the cork. “This is not a 2 beers kind of day, so yeah, I’m switching to wine since it’s the only option that I have here. It’s that or stop, which is just, no.”

Even through the screen, Eleanor gave you her best disappointed parent expression and it stung. How had she perfected that? Shaking her head, she sighed, “you really need to move out.”

Popping the wine bottle open, you pointed the corkscrew at her, “don’t,” you warned, “I don’t wanna hear about it!”

“You can’t keep living with someone that you are head over heals for! Either tell him or move out and move on.”

“Or I could just keep drinking alone on a Friday night, and then go snooping through his things.” You raised the bottle up to cheers the screen, then took a large swig of it.

“What, your gonna become an alcoholic?”

“Hey, don’t judge my coping mechanisms little miss ‘I spent 3 months' wages in 1 minute after getting dumped by Sandra’. And who was so kind as to support you and lend you some money in order to get by, oh yeah that’s right, me, your oldest friend.”

She took a deep sigh, “fine. What are we drinking?”, then you saw her pick up her phone and move to her kitchen. 

“Yes!” you squealed, “I promise, I won’t even mention him the entire evening.”

“It's just like, when he talks with his hands, which is always, which is also always because he always rambles, they are just so, urgghhh” you slurred, and bent over the kitchen counter in order to get closer to the screen, because your vision wasn’t the best at the moment. “pretty. But also like, I want to feel them everywhere on, and inside me. And the veins, oh fuck…”

Eleanor was totally spacing out on her end of the line, so you just continued. “like the other day, he got home and was soooo mad, like only once in a blue moon mad. And I know that it’s kinda wrong of me to just be lusting after him in such a tough moment for him, but damn!”, taking another gulp of your now much lighter bottle. “He just looked, god, so good.” You almost moaned. “His delicious forehead vein was popping out, fuck I just wanna lick it. Like, he gets so petty, but in the hottest way! Fucking, just bend me over right then and there, and go at it for hours!” you carelessly set the bottle down on the counter, “I’d let him do anything he’d want! and I’m talking like some Erika Lust shit. Choke me, slap me, say open up and I’ll happily let him spit in my mouth”

“God, you need to get laid,” Eleanor complained. 

“I know, but I only want him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to even think about anyone else in that way,” you admitted. 

“Aw, babes, you will”, she said with a sad smile, then looked up to the side “oh, it’s 1:05, I’m sorry, I really need to go to bed, but we’ll talk more tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sleep well” you sighed.

“And hey, don’t go fall asleep in his bed!” she quickly added before ending the call.

“That was one time!” you said to now no one.

Feeling slightly dizzy from the alcohol in your system, you leaned your head against the cool countertop. 

Hearing the sink turn on behind you, you whipped around, startled to find the aforementioned Spencer standing there, filling the kettle with water. 

“Jesus Christ! Spencer, what are you doing here?” you screeched. 

Breathing out a small chuckle, “as far as I’m aware, Y/n, I live here.”

“Yeah, I know that, I mean what are you doing home?”

Setting down the now filled kettle in its holder to boil, he turned to you, “the case ended, ergo I’m home now. That’s how it works, Y/n.” 

He kept on saying your name, making you shutter at the way it sounded. “You just usually give a heads-up first”.

He sighed, clearly not in the mood for this conversation, “yeah, well I didn’t.” 

Maybe it had been a tough case? God, if he kept up this mood for any longer, your ovaries were going to explode. 

Suddenly remembering the topic of the convocation you just had with Eleanor, your eyes widened, “ho-how long have you been home?”

“Why?” he said with a tiny smirk.

“Oh, no, I just, I didn’t hear the door or anything” you trailed off.

“Well, you were pretty loud, so it makes sense.”

“I-“ fuck, your heartbeat was raising, “um, did you hear?”

Narrowing his eyes, looking you up and down, taking in your nervousness, “would you really let me do anything I’d want?” 

You let out a shaky breath.

“Because, Y/n,” he moved closer to you, ”there are so many things I wanna do to you.”

Not truly believing his words, you asked, “you do?”

Choosing not to answer with words, he grabbed your face and kissed you fiercely, letting his tongue dance across yours. Humming into it, the combo of the feeling of the kiss mixed with the alcohol made the world spin, so you clutched onto his forearms for support. 

Abruptly pulling away, he studied your eyes, “you’re drunk.”

“Guilty as charged!” you beamed, moving your hands down his body.

Catching them before they could touch what they desired, “no.”

“What? If you don’t want to, then why did you just kiss me?” the words rushed out of you.

Chuckling lightly, he held your hands in his, “trust me, I do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I really like you. I’ve known it for a while.”

“You do?” you smiled as you moved to kiss him again, but he turned his head before your lips could meet.

“But your drunk.”

“So what?”

“Y/n, I can’t with good conscience just bend you over and fuck you in the kitchen when you are drunk.”

Letting go of him, you leaned back against the cold slab and spread your legs a bit, “you could though, I want you to”, grabbing ahold of his hand, you moved it between your legs, “I’m yours if you want me.”

Growling, he closed his eyes. 

“Please” you whispered, grinding into his hand, trying to find some form of relief. 

Snapping his eyes open, his hand started to move, just a bit, moving up and down over your covered pussy. “Is this what you want?”

Shuttering, you replied, “yes.”

With a smirk, his hand moved inside of your pants, cursing under his breath when he felt just how wet you were, “is this all for me?”

Lips now slightly parted, you nodded hard.

Using two fingers, he pressed hard down on your clit, drawing tight circles. Bending down to kiss along your jaw and down your neck he asked amidst the kisses, “do you really want me to choke you,-“ kiss, “slap you-“ kiss, “and spit in your pretty little mouth?”

All you could do was hum in affirmation. 

“I had no idea that you were such a dirty little whore.”

“I just- really really like you,” you choked out, hips moving of their own accord, trying to aid in the goal.

Coming up to look at your face, “good, because I really really like you too”.

A combination of his sweet words, how good he was a finding the exact right place and pressure on you, as well as just the anticipation of it all making everything heightened and so much more intense, you felt yourself getting dangerously close to cuming.

“Oh fuck, Spencer, I’m-” you moaned, clutching onto his shirt.

But then, he removed his hand.

“No, no, no, no, no-“ you breathed, trying to catch it and guide it back to your center, but he wouldn’t let you. “I was so close.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“Because like I said, I’m not going to fuck you when you’re drunk.” His sentence was emphasized by the click of the kettle being done boiling.

“But-“ you tried to argue, but he cut you off.

“I want the first time you cum with me to be on my cock. I wanna feel it.” He explained, then turned to grab two mugs out of a cupboard.

Standing there, slightly stunned, you tried to decipher what the next move could be. The alcohol made it virtually impossible to think of anything other than getting railed by him, so you just sat up on the counter, catching your breath and watching him brew the coffee.

After a minute, you asked quietly, “so, we just go to sleep now?”

Filling the last mug, “no”, he turned and lifted you off from where you were sitting and back to a standing position, “we are going to wait.”

“Wait?” you questioned.

Grabbing one of the mugs, he handed it to you and confirmed, “yeah. How many drinks did you have?”

Scrunching your face up, you tried to remember, “um, 3, no 4, maybe?”

Licking his lips he said, “okay. Come with me.”

Hopping after his long strides, he stopped at his chess table and sat down, motioning with his hand for you to follow suit.

“We are going to sit here until you sober up.”

“Playing chess? Of course, that would be your definition of foreplay.” You teased, but ungracefully sat down as well.

Moving your rook forward four spaces, you asked, “is this even entertaining for you? You keep on beating me in like 5 moves.” 

One step ahead of you, he quickly moved his bishop and snatched up your last surviving knight. Then turning his big brown eyes to look at you, “oh trust me, this is very entertaining for me. Might be some of the best games I’ve ever played.”

Cocking your head to the side you almost laughed, “um, no. I know I’m not a very good chess player, I know the rules and there forth can somewhat follow along, but I am nowhere near skilled enough to be an entertaining chess partner to you, dr. Reid.”

“Who said that your chess skills had anything to do with it?”

Giggling lightly, you moved a pawn and muttered, “oh.”

It was his turn again, but this time he didn’t move a piece, but simply asked you, “are you still drunk?”

Your body tensed at what the question really meant. 

“I don’t think so,” you said honestly, then deciding to joke a bit, “why, do you want me to walk in a straight line? Touch my finger to my nose?” already doing the last movement in front of him.

Smiling, he asked, “do you still want to?”

Stopping your movements, you replied completely serious, “I don’t know how that’s even a question.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for the right words.

“Yes Spencer, I still want to.” Rubbing your thighs together at the building sensation that never quite disappeared from earlier. 

His eyes were glued on you as you lowered your body to the floor, kneeling in front of him, slowly running your hands up his legs.

Reaching a hand down to your cheek, he slipped his thump inside your mouth, completely entranced, it came out as almost a whisper “show me.”

The way he looked down at you made your pussy throb. Hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his finger, you watched him work at his belt.

“Be a good girl and show me.” Taking his finger back with a pop, then used both of his hands to free his cock.

The sight made you smile. Of course, even his dick was pretty.

“Open your mouth, Y/n,” and without another thought, you opened up and stuck your tongue out. Your eyes were big and doe-like, in awe of how he looked, sitting in front of you, working himself a couple of times.

Tapping the weight against your wet tongue, he groaned, “lick it”, and so you did, slowly a few times, just on the tip, then moving your head slightly to the side so you could trace his veins all the way down to the bottom, all the while keeping your eyes locked on his.

Moving your hand up to grasp the base, stroking it lightly as you came back to the tip, swirling your tongue around it a few times before pushing it past your lips. Slowly taking him further and further in, his hands were tangled in your hair, pulling at the roots whenever you would move your tongue just right. 

Letting him move your head for you, picking the pace, how far down you would go down and how long he would hold you there, enjoying the sound of you gagging. 

After a bit, moaning, he pulled you off his now glistening cock, “I’m not gonna last if you keep that up”.

Proud of yourself, you beamed up at him, whipping your mouth and chin with the back of your hand.

Pulling you up to him, he kissed you. Moaning into it, his hands went straight to your tits, palming them softly and then whispered against your lips, “take it off, slowly”.

Pushing yourself off him, you backed up a few steps, giving him a good view. Gradually, layer by layer you striped for him, turning when you got to your pants, in order to give him the best angle. Unconsciously, he mirrored your actions, taking his own off.

When you were both completely naked, his dark eyes drank you in, “get on the couch, ass up, now.”

Your body did as he wished by its own accord. Leaning over the back of his brown leather couch, you waited eagerly for him to get closer to you, and when he did, you grinded into the feeling of his body pressed up against yours. 

Running his fingers lightly through your folds, “mhm, you’re fucking soaked.”

“Please don’t tease me anymore,” you wiggled against him, “I want you inside of me, now.”

“Oh really?” he cooed, then landed a small slap on your pussy, surprising and hard enough to make you jump a bit, “you want it that bad? Do you just wanna be my pretty little whore?”

“Please, ruin me” you whined, as you felt the head of his cock brush against your entrance.

“Wait,” he said, panic suddenly filling his voice, “I don’t have a condom.”

As he began to pull away, you wouldn’t let him, “I don’t care, please just give it to me, please Spencer.”

“You serious?”

“I’m clean, please do it. I’ll just get plan b tomorrow”, you begged.

And without any more warning, he slammed the entirety of his dick inside of you, making you lose your breath and almost turn into putty in his arms.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned into your ear, then distanced himself from you by pushing you further into the couch and straightening up himself. Gripping onto your hips, he didn’t give you a moment to get use to the feeling of how much he stretched you out, but opting for a brutal pace. The snapping of his hips made your body jump in the best way. 

As he slapped your ass, you only got that much closer to cuming. His arms went around your waist and pulled you up against him. One firmly staying there, holding you close to his warm body, the other snaked its way up your body, staying at your boobs just long enough to pinch one nipple, then finding a home softly wrapped around your neck.

His face was right beside yours, occasionally placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek, neck or shoulder. Feeling you clench around him, he asked amidst his grunts and moans, “you gonna be a good girl and cum for me, Y/n?”

When you didn’t reply, too wrapped up in the feeling of it all, he taped your cheek lightly, “huh? Are you gonna cum on my dick?” 

Seeing stars now, you had no way of getting out actual words, and when his hand came down on your cheek again, this time a little harder, you gathered just enough strength to nod lightly.

“atta girl, let me feel you,” he cooed in your ear and returned his hand to his resting place around your neck. Your eyes struggled to stay open as the orgasm rocked through you. 

Legs shaking and trying to catch your breath, his trusts slowed down. Your head lolled back against his shoulder, and he kissed your cheek. “fuck, just when I thought you couldn’t get more beautiful.”

Smiling you reached your hand up to the side of his face, “let’s move this to your bed, I think I need to lay down”, you breathed out.

“Done already?” he asked in a joking tone.

Laughing lightly, you winched at the feeling it gave, making your sensitive walls clench around him, “no, I just don’t wanna fall.”

And with another peck on your cheek, he pulled out of you, but still held you close as you moved the short distance to his bed.

When you hit the mattress, you pulled him with you, letting him fall on top of you. Gasping as he slipped inside of you again, the feeling already starting to feel like home. 

“Oh, you’re taking my cock so well” he moaned, finding a good rhythm, picking the one that made your boobs jiggle the most. “God, I love your tits,” he thought out loud, playing with them, making you giggle a bit at the compliment. 

Craving the same sensation from before, you requested, “choke me.” He didn’t hesitate, wrapping his long fingers around your throat again, squeezing lightly at the points where your rapid heartbeat was easiest to feel. 

Your eyes were locked on each other’s, giving you a great chance to study just how blown his pupils were. Moving his big hand up, so that his thumb could rest on your bottom lip, “open” he breathed out. When you did as you were told, sticking your tongue out just enough for it to brush against his finger, his lips curled up into a proud smirk. The sensation of his spit landing on your tongue first surprised you, then did something you were not expecting it to do. You came again. Right then and there, the intimacy of the act being enough for you.

His smile only grew at the obvious signs of the power he had over you.

Then you blinked and he wasn’t above you anymore. But what he did next was enough for you to know exactly where he was. Your head shot down with a wince, to see him place sloppy kisses on your very sensitive clit. Reaching a hand down, you pulled him away, the sensation being too much. 

Head between your legs, he looked up at you, eyes sparkling, kissing your inner thigh, and muttering, “sorry, I just had to kiss you there”.

Placing your hand on his cheek, you stroked your thump up and down, then up to trace the angry vein on the side of his forehead, “just give me a second”.

Smiling, he leaned his head against your soft thigh, then turned his face to place a peck on the palm of your hand.

“mhm, okay”, you hummed after a few minutes. Spencer then sat up, pulling your tired body with him. You slumped down in his lap, like a koala, hugging your arms around him, nuzzling as close as you could. 

“You ready, Y/n?”

You hummed in reply, reaching one of your hands down to slip his dick inside of you again.

This time, you both just found a lazy and intimate rocking motion, not needing it to be hard and fast, but slow in order to make it last as long as possible. 

“fuck, I’m so close” he practically whined, “where so you want it?”

Through a string of breathy moans, you uttered one syllable, “-in- “, pulling back just enough for him to see the seriousness on your face.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he smirked, “We already live together, you want us to start a family?” his teasing only made your walls tighten their grip around him.

His movements became more ragged and desperate, “you’re just a little cumslut, aren’t you? You want me to fill you up?” whimpering in response, you buried your face in the crook of his neck and held on tight as he pushed you over another euphoric high. 

Grunting in your ear at the feeling of you milking him, you heard, “take it, all of it”, as he throbbed deep inside of you, filling you with his cum.

Staying like that, all tangled up and breathing heavy, for who knows how long. At some point, clutching onto you, he lowered you both down to lie on the soft mattress. 

Expecting him to stay and cuddle you, he instead sat back up and leaned back to admire the mess he had made. Stroking your thigh, he breathed out, “be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

Slowly, you pushed your knees up and spread your legs apart, hearing him curse underneath his breath. Your body jumped when you felt his fingers trace your slit, gathering up the cum that had begun to drip out of you. Crying out suddenly as he plunged in two of his fingers, hips buckling, the sensation being too much for your overstimulated cunt.

“Uh, don’t get so whiny on me right now,” he cooed, looking down at you with dark eyes. He hooked his fingers and moved them furiously, “you said you wanted to cum? Now take it!”

Even when your hips tried to move away, his fingers followed. Soon the feeling of everything being too much got another thing added onto it. How could you possibly cum again? But somehow, you did just that. Spencer always had a way of making impossible things be possible.

Your whole body was shaking and quivering as Spencer laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you. “Holy shit,” you said among your shaky breaths.

“Well, we did have 341 days of foreplay”, he joked.

“Yeah”, you laughed, brushing your hand up and down his arm. “Hey, Spence?”

“Mhm?” he hummed into your hair.

Taking a deep breath, gathering the courage, you confessed quietly, “I love you.”

His hand came to lift your face up to meet his, touching his forehead against yours, “Y/n, I love you too, so much.”

Tilting your head up a bit, you kissed his forehead, then curled back down under his chin and fell asleep in that warm cocoon of love that was your roommate Spencer Reid.

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