#soft audio cases

[charlesmwa]

Pro Audio Storage and Transportation Hacks – Keeping Gear Safe on the Road

If you’ve ever packed up pro audio equipment for a live gig, studio move, or even a small outdoor event, you know how stressful it can be. Professional audio gear isn’t just expensive — it’s fragile, sensitive, and often awkward to carry. From cables getting tangled to mixers mysteriously picking up dents, moving audio equipment is almost an art form.

Whether you're a DJ, sound engineer, musician, or event organizer, knowing how to safely store and transport your pro audio gear can make a big difference. Not only does it protect your investment, but it also ensures your gear works smoothly every time you set it up. Let’s dive into some practical storage and transportation hacks to help you keep your gear safe — no matter where the road takes you.

Why Proper Storage and Transportation Matters

Pro audio equipment is designed to deliver top-notch sound, but it’s not always built to survive rough handling. Internal circuits, delicate knobs, fragile screens, and sensitive connectors can all easily get damaged if the equipment isn’t stored or transported properly. Even something as simple as dust or moisture can mess with performance.

The goal isn’t just to avoid breakage — it’s also about keeping your gear working at its best for years to come. After all, reliable equipment means fewer headaches at gigs, smoother soundchecks, and better overall performance.

Smart Storage Hacks for Pro Audio Equipment

1. Use Custom-Fit Cases

One of the simplest and most effective ways to protect your gear is by investing in custom-fit hard cases. These cases are designed specifically for audio gear, with foam inserts cut to match the exact shape of your equipment. This prevents unnecessary movement during transport and offers extra protection if the case gets dropped.

Tip: For smaller items like microphones, DI boxes, or wireless receivers, look for multi-slot cases that let you store several pieces together while keeping them separated.

2. Label Everything

If you’ve got multiple cables, adapters, and accessories, labeling helps keep everything organized. Use simple labels or colored tape to mark each cable by length, type, or purpose (mic, speaker, power). This way, you’ll spend less time digging through bags and more time setting up.

Bonus: Keeping things organized also reduces the risk of accidentally damaging cables by stuffing them in random pockets.

3. Control the Environment

Pro audio gear doesn’t love extreme temperatures or humidity. If you’re storing gear between gigs, aim for a climate-controlled space — especially for items with delicate electronics, like mixers and processors. Avoid damp basements, hot garages, or direct sunlight.

Quick Hack: Silica gel packets can help absorb moisture if you have no choice but to store equipment in a less-than-ideal space for a short period.

4. Proper Cable Management

Cables are often the first thing to fail because they’re constantly getting coiled, uncoiled, and stepped on. Use cable wraps or Velcro ties to bundle them neatly after every gig. Also, never wrap cables too tightly, especially around your arm — this can damage the internal wires.

Extra Tip: Store cables in a separate compartment from heavier gear to avoid crushing them.

Pro Transportation Hacks for On-the-Road Safety

1. Pack Heavy Items Low and Light Items High

When loading your vehicle, place speakers, amps, and heavy cases on the floor and stack lighter items on top. This keeps your gear more stable while driving and reduces the chances of something heavy falling onto fragile equipment.

Pro Move: If you transport gear in a van or trailer, consider installing tie-down straps to keep everything locked in place.

2. Pad the Gaps

Even inside hard cases, it’s a good idea to fill any empty space with soft padding like foam or bubble wrap. This prevents the gear from shifting if the case gets jostled during transit. It’s especially useful for oddly shaped items that don’t sit perfectly flat in a case.

3. Use Road Cases with Wheels

For larger mixers, speakers, or amps, road cases with built-in wheels are lifesavers. Not only do they protect your gear from impacts, but they also make moving heavy equipment much easier. If you regularly transport gear alone, this is a must.

4. Backup Power and Protection

Sudden power issues are surprisingly common on the road, especially at outdoor venues or older buildings. Always pack a reliable power conditioner or surge protector to safeguard your gear against voltage spikes. It’s a small investment that could save you thousands in repairs.

5. One Bag for Essentials

Besides your main equipment, it’s smart to keep a small essentials bag with spare cables, adapters, batteries, gaffer tape, and basic tools like screwdrivers and pliers. This "just-in-case" bag can save you from minor disasters during setup or mid-show emergencies.

Common Mistakes to Avoid

Even with all these hacks, some common mistakes can still put your gear at risk. Here’s a quick rundown of what NOT to do:

Overpacking cases — Jamming too much gear into one case can lead to broken knobs, scratched surfaces, and tangled cables.

Ignoring weight limits — Every case has a recommended weight limit. Overloading it can damage the case and the gear inside.

Skipping inspections — After every gig, do a quick inspection of all your gear. Catching minor damage early can prevent bigger issues later.

Thinking Long-Term – It’s More Than Just One Trip

It’s easy to think of transportation as just getting your gear from point A to point B, but over time, all those bumpy roads, quick load-ins, and rushed pack-ups take a toll. Treating your pro audio gear with care during every stage — from storage to setup — means fewer repairs, fewer surprises, and better performance at every event.

That’s also why many experienced audio pros prefer purchasing from reputable audio shops, where they not only get quality gear but also expert advice on protective cases, power management, and storage solutions designed specifically for pro equipment.

Pro audio equipment is an investment, and like any investment, it deserves proper care. Whether you’re a gigging musician, mobile DJ, or sound tech handling corporate events, how you store and transport your gear matters just as much as how you use it. With a little planning, smart packing, and some good storage habits, you can keep your equipment working perfectly for years — even if the road gets a little rough.

So next time you’re packing up for a show, remember: your gear’s safety starts long before you hit the power button. Treat it right, and it’ll treat your audience right too.

[damnbtway]

i wonder if while erik was thinking about making an incubus character he sat down and thought “whats the most moanable name” and came up w gavin

[the-blue-phantom]

cooking videos are fine except for when the person describes how the food tastes or takes a bite of it and makes noise or tries to show off how crispy something is by scraping it with a knife or when they talk quietly or closely to the microphone so basically they'd be fine if they were silent and perhaps written down and shared in a non video based format

[lambilegs]

AN AMOROUS KISS WITH THE ONCE ENEMY.

day two of sevika week: first time.

set in the universe of this fic.

contains: royalty!au, sevika and reader are part of enemy kingdoms and have been pushed into an arranged marriage with each other for the sake of peace, reader lives with a toxic family, smut (minors + ageless blogs dni), sevika has a dick, mentions of breeding and pregnancy, soft sex, praise, reader is called "wife" and "girl," reader's body is referred to with the terms: "pussy," "cunt," "clit," and "tits"

a/n: this is inspired by an m4f audio I came across on reddit, made by u/AugustInTheWinter -- I haven't listened to it in full, so I can't guarantee all the content in it, so please check his warnings and keep it all in mind.

dividers by: @/strangergraphics and @/anitalenia

The last thing you expected upon Sevika’s arrival was for her to cup your face and plant on you the most amorous kiss you’ve ever received.

She’s been gone for two incredibly long months on account of counseling she’s had to do in several different provinces for the sake of peacekeeping. Your family jumped at the opportunity to have you back home, and while the prospect at first seemed tempting, it took only five days of staying with them to remember why you had agreed to the marriage of allegiance with Sevika in the first place. 

Everything feels… tighter around the throat. The rules that had governed you all throughout your childhood were now wound back around your neck, forcing every interaction to have controlled coldness and false niceties laced in. Prior to your marriage, this sort of life came naturally to you, like a sort of second skin you donned with ease every morning and tore off during the late hours.

But, after ten months of marriage to Sevika, living in her country and experiencing a whole new way of socializing, one that prizes bluntness and passion above all else, this world you once called home feels foreign now. You can already picture your wife’s – God, your wife – reaction had she been staying here with you. She would’ve barked out a crude laugh at your mother’s insistence on what subjects can and cannot be broached in a formal dinner. She would’ve kept you in her stare during balls no matter how impolite it was deemed for a woman to give her spouse the “sinful gaze,” as your aunt once hilariously put it.

But, oh, how that sinful gaze feels like Heaven after being tied to her for so long. At first, you viciously hated it. You thought the way she looked at your body was pure filth, and you tried hard to ignore the way it made arousal bloom between your thighs. You were also under the impression that twisted into that stare was contempt and pure arrogance at knowing you were putty under her hands. And in hindsight, you’re sure that was the case.

But, then, the two of you spent time together after the wedding night. You still cannot decipher if it was the most blessed or stupid decision you’ve ever made. The wedding night turned into an immediate argument in the morning. And that argument unfolded into weeks of bickering. Then, a vulnerable night where someone at a dinner party made a rude comment about your people made you struck with tears – and, shockingly enough, made your wife fist the table cloth and defend you.

A rare moment of kinship turned into shared smirks in the middle of shooting snarky remarks back and forth. It turned into her squeezing your hip during public outings and biting back a chuckle whenever you shot her a glare. It turned into her reading her book aloud to help you sleep during the anxious nights. It turned into you advocating for her when her father dismissed her. It turned into fights over you defending each other and the pride broken in doing so, ending with mumbled apologies and feeble attempts to grab one another’s hand.

Somewhere, tucked away deep in your soul, it turned into an actual marriage. It turned into that four letter word you still can’t manage to unleash from your throat when faced with her cocksureness. 

You gasp as her lips move against you in the fluid dance that nights upon nights of intimacy, all done under the justification of needing to produce an heir, have trained you both in. Your fingers twist eagerly into the fabric of her vest, pulling her in so that your fronts are squished together. She’s so tall, so lovely, so fucking strong. So warm when she’s on top of you, so dependable during the nights you meekly turn into her side when a nightmare leaves you feeling like you’re plunged into cold water. So steady – firm in her stance, cold and rough around the edges, but an inside, so tender and soft. An inability to ever deny you the care you need. You both know that. But, not only you. You’ve seen her show that care for so many people, including the ones she holds dearest to her chest and the strangers who have nothing to give her in return. It makes your admiration of her swell tenfold.

When she grabs your ass, nails digging into the plush of it, your mouth opens in a choked gasp. You can feel the longing for her, the desperate need for skin-on-skin contact. And you’d be uttering a terrible lie if you say that you don’t feel the same way. These last two months have been downright torturous, your brain itching for her thoughts on what you read, your face aching for the grins she causes in her rare moments of awkwardness, your body yearning for her rough touch. 

She pulls away from your mouth with a wet squelch, and through the heaving breaths, you finally take her in. Her hair has grown longer, black strands hanging in her eyes, and her eyes are shadowed with dark under eye circles. And yet, the light in those grey irises doesn’t falter even once, searing through your skin as her gaze shifts over your face. The sharp focus of the movement causes your stomach to flip. Did she miss you? Did she envision your face at night as much as you did hers?

Your mind barely has time to run through more questions before her hands lift to your face and she’s pulling you into another impassioned kiss, muttering, “You been sleeping well?”

The soft question nearly brings you to tears. Still passively hanging your mouth open, letting her tongue lick into the crevices of it, you shake your head from side to side. You had grown quite accustomed to having her nearby during the late hours.

Her kisses sloppily move to your cheek, her next words firm with determination. “You will tonight.”

When she loosens your robe, her eyes take you in, focused and half-lidded, hand rubbing at your tummy. “Fuck. Get on the bed now.”

You bite your lip in eagerness, arousal coursing through you. You’re already damp between the legs, your wetness smeared on your inner thighs. You know it’s probably a horrible idea to be doing it here, at your parents’ estate (you try to ignore just how touched it makes you to know she made a detour on her journey home just to visit your parents’ and ensure you make the rest of the trip together). But, there’s something tantalizing about it. This kingdom, so rigid, so seeped in structure and sense, totally demolished in this small way. In the tangle of limbs, the hot mix of breaths, the depraved claiming she always stakes on you.

When you get on all fours, anticipating that she’ll want it fast and hard after the time spent away, she chuckles softly. 

When you feel the slippery softness of her lips upon your spine, you gasp. A surge of heat shoots through you as she murmurs, “Get up. I want to see your face.”

The request makes your stomach tighten up, a wave of tenderness rolling through you. God, you want to see her too. So badly. You’re almost seized with fear at the enormity of your want, at the vulnerability that’ll be tethering you two together through this round of lovemaking. Lovemaking. Before, it was just sex – something you convinced yourself was only done for the necessity of bearing her child. Now, it’s something completely different. It’s another way you two have learned to mold yourselves together and allow your souls to dance in companionship.

Her skin, set ablaze under the warm light of the fire, is toasty under your roaming hands. She sits up with her back leaning against the headboard, your body curled up in her lap. You’re gasping pitifully as her dick slides between your pussy’s soaked lips, the hot weight of it getting slick as she grips your hips and helps you rock back and forth. Nails digging into her broad shoulders, breasts crushed together, your moist breaths fan against her cheek as you press messy, mindless kisses to the corner of her mouth.

Mind softened and turned malleable from the feeling of her cock brushing against your stiffened clit, you breathe out, “I missed you.”

She makes a small noise in her throat, then mutters, “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft during my time away.”

The lack of reciprocation stings, and you immediately pause to pull back with a glare. “Will you not say it back?”

She levels you with a deadpan stare. “My dick is about an inch close to being inside you.”

You scoff, “Yes, and that’s how close you’ll get unless you tell me you missed me too. Or did you not?”

At the soft crack in your voice, one that has your face heating in embarrassment, Sevika’s eyes sharply flick to you. A moment later, she leans into you, grabbing the base of her dick and encouraging you to lift your hips. Mouth pressed to your jaw, almost as though she can’t bear to meet your gaze, she murmurs, “You think I would’ve added two days to my journey home unless I did?”

Your chest aches.

When she slowly splits you open on your dick, you immediately begin rutting desperately on her, the time apart feeling like an extended eternity. 

She bites her lip, hard, the corner of it quirking up in clear amusement. “Needed it that bad, huh?”

Despite the taunt in her voice, you can hear the way it trembles, and you know it’s taking her every ounce of willpower not to thrust into you the way she desires.

You take advantage of the weak point, pressing your palms on her chest and swivelling your hips in circles, slow and measured. Her dick twists in you just right, and a low whine flows from your mouth.

Sevika grits her teeth from where she sits, the muscles of her chest flexing under your touch. “You’re so, fuck–”

She barely gets the sentence out before her thick arms wrap around your waist and she’s bending her knees to give herself the leverage she needs to begin pumping her hips up. You cry out in shock, a hand feebly pressing to the bed frame as her cock darts in and out of you without falter, your hole gushing with juices mixed in with her precum. One hand grips your ass, kneading and smacking, while the other is braced against your back, keeping you still as she pounds into you like her personal toy. 

It’s pure ecstasy, rough and passion encapsulated in the quick, uncoordinated movements. But, what has your entire body eventually spiralling to orgasm is when she slows down. Continuing to hold you still, she rocks in and out patiently, leaning away from your shoulder to press her sweaty forehead into yours, the hairs plastered onto her skin making yours tickle and itch. Her eyes remain narrowed on how your mouth falls open in pleasure, utterly intent. You roll your hips to meet her thrusts, which are wet and loud with the cream you’re certain is coating her cock and your walls.

The forced eye contact has you crumbling from the inside out, feeling as though your insides are laid on display for her. And after so much time apart, basking in her desire and touch like this has you feeling like it’s the first time again. 

The feeling is only exemplified by the praise she begins to grunt out, so different from her usual humiliation and teasing. 

“Fuck, how did I stay away from you for so long?” she rasps, her voice rough like sandpaper. “This sweet little cunt, this pretty little face.”

A stuttering moan is racked from your throat, flutters twirling through your stomach. She thinks you pretty. God, she thinks you pretty. It feels silly to get so excited by such a revelation, considering she’s your wife, but you can’t help it. She makes you feel like everything is the first time, like she’s your first love. She isn’t, but when she looks at you like your body is a hidden gem found in a cave, when she mocks you and teases you and tentatively asks for your opinion as though you’re important, you can’t help it. She makes you feel wanted. And you want her just as badly, if not more.

Overwhelmed by the weight of your thoughts, you weakly utter, “I– don’t leave me again.”

The plea is more open than you had anticipated, brokenly uttered, honest to the core, and anxiety shoots in you as she slows down even more, her cock gently scraping against your walls.

“I won’t,” she says through her teeth, her voice hard. “I won’t leave you to the wolves.”

An instant need to defend your family rears its head, and you whisper, “I managed.”

“Just managing isn’t good enough for me.” She starts thrusting faster, holding the back of your head and keeping it still as she whispers, “You’re my wife. I’m gonna make sure you have better than that.”

Her words and movements make you sag into her, arms winding about her neck as you clutch on tightly. Her cock plunges in and out of you faster and you moan senselessly against her shoulder, lifting her hand from your waist to suck on her fingers.

“Messy girl,” she grumbles.

When she comes in you, your entire body is thrown into a fit of shivers, the thick strings of it bursting into your hole and filling you up delightfully. Keening, you press yourself down on her harder, trying to suck in every drop of her seed, downright greedy for it.

Deliriously, you pant, “More, more, more, give me it all, shove it in me. Please, please, breed me, get me pregnant.”

“Such a fucking needy girl,” she groans, continuing to thrust hard and deep into you, forcing her come into your hole as much as she can. “Take it, fucking take it.”

Moments later, the knot in your tummy releases, rolls of overbearing, heavy pleasure coursing through you as you bite into her shoulder, trying to muffle your noises. She hisses at the dig of your teeth, but you don’t care, wanting so badly to mark her up as your own. She’s no one else’s. She’s yours. Yours, yours, yours.

The words are right on the tip of your tongue, hanging precariously. 

But, your adoration of her is triumphed by your fear of your rejection. So, you hold it in, content to keep her like this, her softening cock still inside you. 

Her fingers smooth along the pimples of your back, ghosting over your skin and making you squirm. 

When you clench onto her tighter, she sucks in a small breath, muttering, “Already needing round two?”

You weakly smack her bicep. “Shut up. I can’t help it.”

The rest of her arm wraps around you and you nuzzle further into her. It feels familiarly like a hug, and your chest throbs at the affection. Because, truly? As much as you relish in the sex, the aftermath, the excuse to hold each other without undergoing the intimacy of asking for it and making your needs evident, is just as fulfilling.

Wanting to linger in the moment, you ask quietly, “How was the trip?”

“Tiring.”

“Thank you for the details.”

She huffs. “I’ll give them to you tomorrow.” 

After a pause, she asks, “How has the homeland been?”

You know her well enough by now to recognize the veiled message. Do you miss it here? Do you wish you hadn’t married me?

You press your nose into her collarbone. “Tiring.”

Her hold tightens. “I’m here now.”

And just like that, you hold on tighter, melting into the deep timbre of her voice, the words no longer a threat of dread and anger, but one of hope and comfort.

[rafayelxsylusho]

Affinity level Sylus 145

If you haven't heard the audio you are MISSING OUT!!!

My favorite lines are marked with a 🔥

🔥MIDNIGHT FEAST

TW:Smut

You were curled up on the edge of the bed, wearing oversized pajamas, when you heard the knock at the door. You blinked, looking towards the sound as if seeing the door would somehow make the knocking more understandable.

Rising to your feet, you padded across the carpeted floor, the plush material soft beneath your bare feet. You could hear the rain lashing against the window. Opening the door, you found Sylus standing there, just as you had expected.

You walk back to sit on the bed, watching as Sylus takes off his jacket. He turns to look at you, his eyes rake over you, taking in the oversized pajamas that hang loosely. He starts to unbutton his shirt, revealing a glimpse of his chest beneath.

"What are you waiting for, kitten? Why aren't you sitting over here?" he asks, a hint of impatience in his smooth voice.

"Where do you want me to sit? You ask and his lips curve into a smirk

"Where to sit?" He chuckles "isn't it obvious?"

"Why are you taking your shirt off? Aren't you cold?"

"It's raining outside, so it's a little cold," Sylus says as he walks towards you, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. He reaches out and pulls your chin up with his fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Don't worry, I didn't get wet"

Leaning in close, his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "I feel a lot warmer now" you can't help but blush at his proximity.

"When you opened the door and saw me, you looked surprised." He asks as he kneels in front of you. "Who were you expecting?"

You look at Sylus, surprised by his question. "I...I wasn't expecting anyone," you stammer out, caught off guard. "I mean, I knew it was you, but..."

"Of course, it’s a rhetorical question. I wanted to hear you say you were waiting for me." he murmurs, his thumb stroking your cheek.

His gaze then flicks to the phone on the bed, and he arches an eyebrow. "You called for room service?" he asks, a note of curiosity in his voice. "You get hungry very easily" he chuckles " What food did you order while I was away?"

"I...I just felt like trying a bit of everything," you mumble, dropping your eyes shyly.

"Hmmm, you have quite the appetite today huh? You ordered a lot of dishes. Were you planning on enjoying them alone? He pulls back to look at your reaction. "Or were you waiting to share them with me?"

You shake your head no, unable to meet Sylus's eyes "No" you admit softly, turning your head away in an attempt to hide the deep blush staining your cheeks.

Sylus chuckles, a rich, deep, and sinful sound that seems to reverberate through your very bones. "You weren't?"

"Turn around and show me your eyes. Let's see if they lie as much as your mouth does" he says, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

You feel his grip tighten on your chin as he forces you to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, searching, probing, as if he could see straight into your very soul.

"Tch, I knew you were lying," he says, " That's very bold of you. Yes, you better be as bold as you are insatiable today"

His eyes drop to your shoulders, noticing how one side of your pajama top has slipped down, exposing a glimpse of skin. "I noticed your pajamas didn't quite fit you the moment I walked in," he murmurs. "And.... they look familiar. Are they mine?" He reaches out, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of the pajama top, tracing the line of your collarbone.

"I grabbed the wrong pajamas because I had limited time to pack"

Sylus listens intently, his thumb stroking your jawline "Hmmm, you grabbed the wrong pajamas due to the limited time...I recall that on the day before we went traveling, someone spent the whole night packing" he says, his eyes never leaving yours "She even packed three phone chargers to prepare for those worst case scenarios"

He leans in "But it seems a worst case scenario happened anyway"

🔥🔥🔥🔥🫦"Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not trying to mock you" he chuckles "in fact I only care about one thing" 🔥🔥🔥🔥🫦

"If you are wearing my pajamas" His hand tightens its grip on the fabric of the pajama top, bunching it up and pulling you slightly closer to him. "then what should I wear?" He whispers.

"I...I brought two of the same kind," you stutter, feeling the heat of his breath on your skin, his presence overwhelming your senses.

"Ohhhhh, you brought two of the same kind" Sylus repeats, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Do I look like I'm...anticipating something?

"All the time" you breathe out.

"Mmmh, what a detailed interpretation" he looks at your confused face " Heh, It's nothing. But if you keep staring at me, I might just..."

"You might what?" his eyes glint with mischief as he watches the deep blush spread across your face.

"All right, I won't say it," he chuckles "your ears are red now though" his fingertips touch the shell of your ear, feeling the heat radiating from the skin.

"Stop being such a bad boy, Sylus," you murmur, but he just smirks wider at your weak attempt at scolding him.

Sylus's voice drops "You're calling me a bad boy again," he growls. "Well, don't expect a bad boy to do good things."

In a quick, sudden movement, he sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls you firmly into his lap. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close against his chest.

"Sy, you...!"

"Shhh," Sylus whispers, his lips brushing against your ear as he silences your protests. "All right, stay still. Why don't we cuddle for a bit?"

You feel Sylus lay you down gently on the bed and he settles in beside you, his body taking up a considerable amount of space. You can't help but feel small and vulnerable next to him.

His hand finds your thigh, and you gasp softly as you feel his fingers sliding up the fabric of the pajama pants. You hear him murmur as he explores the fabric, a hint of wonder in his voice. "I didn't notice how nice the pajama fabric was until now," Sylus remarks, his fingers continuing their slow ascent up your thigh.

Suddenly, you feel his nose brush against the sensitive skin of your neck, drawing another gasp from your lips. His breath is hot and heavy, sending goosebumps erupting across your skin.

He inhales deeply, his nose trailing along your neck as he takes in your scent. "Ah, it even smells like you"

Your breath hitches as his fingers trace the hem of the pajama shirt, teasing the sensitive skin just above your waistband.

His hand ventures higher, slipping beneath to explore the smooth expanse of your stomach. You feel his fingertips grazing the underside of your breast, tracing the edge of your bra with a feather light touch. "Oh this here...it's very warm..."

"Well, that isn't part of the pajama's fabric"

Sylus's fingers pause their exploration as he hears your breathy words. "Oh, this isn't the fabric? Then what is it? Tell me..."

You whisper hotly in his ear, "You know very well what that is," as you feel his fingers tugging the pajama shirt up and your bra down. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, followed by a soft moan, when he pinches your exposed nipple roughly.

He hisses through clenched teeth as he feels your teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh of his earlobe. "Don't bite," he growls "You're being unreasonable." Despite his words, you can hear the arousal in his tone

"You pinched it hard and your hand was freezing!" As you speak, your hand begins to wander down, your fingers playing with the buckle of his belt.

"My hand was freezing? He laughs "I told you it was cold out there" His hand slides down to your hip, squeezing the flesh possessively.

"What are you trying to grab?" he asks as your fingers slide lower "If you want to get back at me, this method might not work" He growls deeply as he feels your hand palming his hardening length through his pants. "🔥🔥Stop that🔥🔥, Otherwise I..." he hisses, his voice a warning that sends a shiver of fear and exhilaration down your spine. Before you can react, he rolls onto you, pinning you firmly beneath him.

He grabs your wrists, his fingers tying the long sleeves of your pajama top around them. The soft fabric slid and tightened, binding your hands securely above your head. You find yourself unable to move, helpless beneath him, a delicious sense of vulnerability washing over you.

Sylus looms over you as he admires his handiwork "Everything's good now. "He leans down, his nose brushing against yours. "What did you think I was going to do to you?"

Sylus tugs on the fabric, testing the strength as he grins down at your flustered expression. "It's great that these sleeves are long and easy to tie together" 

His breath feels hot against your cheek as he murmurs, "Won't you be a good little hand warmer now, kitten?"

You blush furiously at his words, instinctively trying to untie your hands, only to pause as you see him slip his ring off his finger. The realization of his intent has your breath catching in your throat.

He watches your reaction closely, a dark smile playing on his lips as he sets the ring down on the bedside table. He laughs when he sees you struggling again, your hands pulling and tugging. "You are very strong..." he muses, "And you don't hold back when it comes to me."

Sylus traces the waistband of your pajama pants with a thoughtful frown. "You're right, these pajamas are too flimsy," he remarks, his fingers dipping just slightly beneath the elastic.

Startled, you blurt out, "You should blacklist them then!"

"Sure, we can blacklist this brand," he agrees. You feel his fingers hooking into the waistband, and with a sharp tug, he starts to pull your pants down. The fabric slides over your skin, inching lower and lower, until suddenly, cool air hits your flesh.

He pauses, his brows raising as he notices the lack of underwear beneath. "But more importantly," he murmurs, his voice a hungry rumble, "I'm hungry."

You ask breathlessly, "What do you want to eat, Sy?", looking up at him with wide, trusting eyes.

Sylus smirks down at you, his eyes roaming over your exposed body. "What do I want to eat first?" he asks. "Hmmm...Why don't you choose for me?" His hand slides down, cupping your bare pussy as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

You try to deflect the tension with a nervous laugh, "I think I'll try to get some sleep now"

At your words, he slides a finger through your folds, feeling the slick heat that's already gathering there "You are going to bed?" He circles your sensitive clit with the pad of his finger, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck up involuntarily. "But I think this is a good spot," his voice an approving rumble. "Great, even."

He starts to move down your body, his lips trailing kisses along your soft skin. He pauses to lavish attention on the sensitive flesh of your breast, still exposed 🔥"Yeah"🔥. He presses open mouthed kisses across your stomach, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

Your belly flutters and clenches with each noise that spills from his throat. Moans and approving growls rumble through his chest as he inhales your scent. He feels when you try to push him away by clenching your thighs together as if to protect your most intimate place.

"Don't push me away," Sylus laughs "It's too late to chicken out, kitten." He ignores your attempt to push him away, his strength easily overpowering your own. With a tug he yanks your pajama pants completely off, leaving you completely bare from the waist down.

His hands grasp your thighs, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he forces your legs apart. The sheets rustle loudly beneath you, the only sound in the silent room, as Sylus settles between your spread thighs.

Without warning, Sylus leans in and places his mouth directly on your cunt. The first swipe of his flat tongue across your entire slit makes your back arch sharply off the bed, a loud moan tearing from your throat. The sound is so intense and unexpected that you're certain it could be heard echoing through the next room.

Sylus pauses, his tongue lifting from your folds as he hears the sudden knock at the door. He sighs loudly, his head snapping up to glare in the direction of the intrusion.

"🔥🔥WHO IS IT?"🔥🔥 Sylus growls, his voice a thunderous bark of anger. The room falls silent for a moment, the only sound your own ragged breathing.

Turning his gaze back to you, Sylus smirks "Hmm, I almost forgot you ordered room service," he remarks, his tone laced with mocking amusement.

You make a move to sit up, to cover yourself but Sylus's hand on your hip stops you. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you firmly in place.

"Where are you going? Do you actually plan to open the door like that?" He asks, glancing at your half naked body.

Sylus sighs, impatience flavoring the exhale. "Let me do it," His hand remains firm on your hip, keeping you pinned to the bed. "Just sit here and wait for your late night snack."

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours as he growls, 🔥🔥"And after you've had your fill...it will be my turn, right?"🔥🔥

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

Extra

You were lost, drowning in a sea of overwhelming sensation, your body wrecked with the aftershocks of countless orgasms. Your fingers trembled as you pressed them against your face, trying in vain to muffle the sound of your cries.

Through the haze you caught a glimpse of Sylus's face, glistening with your juices, his chin and cheeks coated in your arousal. He looked up at you "You like that, don't you kitten?" Sylus breathed against your drenched folds "You can't get enough of my mouth on this sweet cunt..."

At this rate, Sylus was going to fucking kill you, and God help you, but some dark, desperate part of you almost wanted to let him.

You felt every slick glide of his tongue against your swollen folds, each movement sending electric sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerve endings. His hot breath washed over you in waves.

"Oh God...Sy..." Your voice was a breathless, needy whimper, your hips starting to move on their own again. They rolled against his skilled mouth, seeking more of that devastating pleasure.

You felt Sylus smirk against your flesh, the bastard. He was reveling in your desperation, in the way your body betrayed your desire. But God, he was just too fucking good, his tongue too talented, his mouth too wicked.

"Yes, just like that, please..." you begged, your chest heaving as your breathing grew ragged. "Just like that... don't stop..."

Your hands trembled as they traveled down to tangle in his hair, your fingers threading through the soft strands. You pulled him closer, desperately seeking more, only to push him away a heartbeat later as the sensation became too intense to bear.

"I need...I need something..." You gasped out.

"Yeah? What do you need, sweetie?" He flicked his tongue against your clit, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

Unable to form coherent words, you could only manage a breathless, needy whimper. "Yes, that..yes, Sy, please!"

You gasped as his teeth scraped delicately over your sensitive clit, sending a bolt of white hot pleasure shooting through your core. Your back arched sharply, pressing your hips more firmly against his mouth.

"Ah, oh my god, YES-" You cried out, your fingers tightening their grip in his hair, holding him in place as he worked you towards the th orgasm.

Sylus pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against your clit as he murmured, "Do you want a little more, kitten? Use your words. Tell me what you need. Do you want me to make you come like this?"

You somehow found the strength to whisper, "Yes...please, Sylus...I need it...I need YOU..."

At your plea, he exhaled softly against your cunt, the hot gust of air making you shiver, before he pushed two long fingers inside your tight cunt.

The sound of his low groan as he finally entered you was everything. It rumbled through you, vibrating your very core as your walls clenched needily around his fingers.

Almost unconsciously, you bent your knees a bit more and dug your heels into his shoulders, your body instinctively opening itself to his touch.

“That’s it, a little more for me... take a little more...”he said as he added a third finger, stretching you deliciously. His fingers were pumping hard and fast, his tongue swirling and flicking against your clit.

"Let go Y/n, fucking scream for me," he commanded "Bring the fucking place down with the sound of it..."

"Harder," you gasped out, your body arching off the bed. "Harder!"

"It's too much, it's too much, I can't-" you whimpered, your fingers twisting in his hair, holding on for dear life as you teetered on the brink.

"Come. Now," Sylus ordered, with a final, hard suck on your clit, he pulled it into his mouth, demanding your surrender.

Your scream of his name tore through the room, echoing off the walls as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed, back bowing, as you milked his fingers, your gummy walls gripping them like a vice.

"Oh my...FUCK!" your voice was raw and ragged, your soul laid bare.

"You did so well, sweetie" he murmured against your skin "So fucking perfect..."

You felt his fingers slow their movements, gentling their thrusts as he worked you through the aftershocks. Your chest heaved, lungs burning as you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slid up, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hipbone as he peppered your inner thighs with soft kisses.

Feeling boneless and sated, you could only whimper softly, your hands falling limply to your sides.

"How about you scream like that for me one more time, kitten?"

[melosliving]

Can you do a fic where reader and Aaron are married and have been for years. But the public didn’t know about the reader. They thought Aaron was single. But anyways reader makes cooking videos on TikTok and is pregnant with a baby and somehow they put 2 and 2 together and realize they are married. The public is surprised that he has a wife. And now everyone is calling them a cute couple.

Thank you for your request !!! Let me cook and I hope you’ll like it ❤️❤️

aaron pierre x wife!reader

folks discovering y’all are married with a baby on the way …

You’d been craving jollof rice all week, so naturally, you decided to make it and turn the process into a TikTok. Pregnancy cravings weren’t something to play with, and your audience always loved your cooking content anyway.

The video was perfect—vibrant colors, smooth transitions, and a warm, inviting voiceover walking your viewers through each step.

“Once the tomato base has reduced,” your voice explained as the pot of rich red sauce simmered on the screen, “you’ll add the parboiled rice and mix it thoroughly so it soaks up all that flavor—”

But right as you reached the next step, a familiar voice cut in. Deep, smooth, and unmistakably British. “That’s looking good, love. You saving me a plate, yeah?”

You could hear the smile in your voice as you replied, “Aaron, I’m recording.”

“And I’m hungry, girl,” he quipped, unfazed, clearly not realizing his voice had been picked up by the mic.

“I always save a plate for you baby,” you replied softly, with a little laugh, before continuing your voiceover like nothing happened.

At the time, you didn’t think much of it. Just another normal moment with your husband. You edited the video, uploaded it, and figured the focus would stay on the jollof rice. But your followers? They had other priorities.

The comments section was on fire within minutes.

#tiktok!comments

@ user 1 WAIT. Is that Aaron Pierre???

@user 2 Not this deep British voice interrupting mid-recipe… I KNOW THAT’S HIM.

@user 3 She said Aaron like it was casual. GIRL, WE KNOW.

@user 4 Y’all… she’s pregnant, cooking jollof, and married to Aaron Pierre? I’m logging off.

People began dissecting the video like detectives. The way your tone softened when you spoke to him, the casual back-and-forth, the fact that he felt comfortable interrupting at all—it all added up. By the end of the day, his name was trending, and everyone was convinced they’d cracked the case: not only were you married to the Aaron Pierre, but you were also having his baby.

The next morning, Aaron found out before you did. He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through TikTok, grinning like a kid. “Love,” he called out, “you’ve got to see this.”

You shuffled into the room, hand on your growing belly, already suspicious of the look on his face. “What now?”

He handed you his phone, showing an edit someone had made of your video. They’d slowed it down, isolated his voice, and overlaid the words NOT AARON PIERRE INTERRUPTING HER MID-JOLLOF in bold text.

“They’re really out here doing audio forensics,” you said, shaking your head with a laugh. Aaron smirked, leaning back as you sat beside him. “To be fair, they’ve got a point. Who wouldn’t want to know who’s eating that jollof?”

You shot him a playful look. “I was trying to focus on the recipe, and here you are soft-launching yourself as my husband.”

“Soft-launching?” He laughed. “I thought we were past the soft launch when you started wearing your ring in those videos.”

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m blaming you for this one. You couldn’t even let me finish the voiceover before talking about plates.”

“What can I say?” He rested his hand on your belly, his voice dropping to that teasing tone. “It smelled good, and I’ve got to look out for you and baby.”

By the end of the day, the internet had pieced together everything. Fans unearthed old TikToks where Aaron’s voice could be faintly heard in the background, and someone even pulled up an interview clip of him saying, “My wife makes the best jollof rice—and she’s pregnant, so I get even more of it.”

Your comments section was relentless:

@unknown 1. Black love, jollof rice, and a baby? Y’all won.”

@user 5 Imagine carrying Aaron Pierre’s baby AND making him jollof. Sis, you’re living my dream.

@unknown 2 She’s cooking for two, and Aaron’s eating for three. I’m obsessed with this family already.

That night, as you lay curled up on the couch together, scrolling through all the reactions, Aaron leaned down and kissed your temple. “I think they’re excited for us.”

You laughed softly, resting your hand over his on your belly. “I think they’re more excited for you.”

“Nah.” He smiled, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. “It’s us, love. It’s always us.”

@ melosliving 2025

[ds-angel1]

how serial killer!rafe infantilizes candy!reader

cw: murder, dd/lg, drugging, (forced) infantalisation, conditioning

Picks out your clothes daily: baby pink jumpers, frilly socks, shirts with cartoons, flowy dresses, and overalls; he calls anything else “not for his girl.”

Pre-chews or cuts your food: he’s “making sure you don’t choke, sweets.” Even at restaurants.

Won’t let you have sharp objects. “Why would my baby need scissors? You’ll hurt yourself.”

Reads you bedtime stories: real ones, or made-up ones about princesses being rescued by men with knives.

Bans caffeine and alcohol, (but gives you sedatives and “mood candy” in cutesy pillboxes you decorated.)

Only calls you “baby,” “princess,” “kitten,” or “doll.” ect., He never uses your real name, he says it sounds too grown.

Rewards you with praise for being helpless:“You’re such a good girl for letting Daddy handle it.”“That’s right, no thinking, just smile for me.”

Corrects your tone if you sound “too adult.”“Ah ah, use your soft voice, baby. Remember?”

Encourages babytalk. Pretends not to understand you unless you use cutesy words.

Tells you scary, complex things (like taxes, politics, or crime) are “way too much for your soft little brain.”

Your wardrobe is 80% themed: cupcakes, animals, pastel florals, glitter jelly shoes, or footie pajamas.

Insists you wear lip gloss and blush but nothing “mature.” No red lipstick, no eyeliner, “makes you look mean.”

Only buys you coloring books and kids toys, nothing that you need actual brain power to do or use.

Keeps the remote for the TV hidden when he leaves so you can’t watch anything but the kids channel.

Tells strangers you’re “special” or “slow” so they won’t talk to you directly.

Uses pacifiers when you’re stressed, says it “calms her.” Sometimes he soaks them in syrup or drugs.

Keeps you under a surveillance system with baby monitor audio, GPS bracelet, and room camera. Just in case.

[charlesmwa]

What’s the Best Way to Protect Your Gear From Weather Damage?

Whether you’re a seasoned musician or someone who just started exploring live performances, there’s one thing we all fear—weather damage to our beloved gear. Picture this: you’re all set for an outdoor gig, the energy is electric, and then… it starts to drizzle, and your precious equipment is left vulnerable. This blog will walk you through the best ways to safeguard your audio equipment from unpredictable weather, so you can perform stress-free while keeping your gear in top-notch condition.

Why Does Weather Damage Happen?

Audio equipment is sensitive. Most components, like speakers, mixers, and amplifiers, are made with intricate electrical circuits that don’t mix well with water or extreme temperatures. Moisture can cause short circuits, rust, or corrosion, while excessive heat can warp delicate materials. Cold weather isn’t your friend either, as it can make some parts brittle, leading to cracking or breaking.

Understanding these risks is the first step in taking protective measures for your equipment. Let’s explore some of the best practices to keep your gear safe.

Invest in Weather-Resistant Gear

If you’re frequently performing outdoors, consider upgrading to weather-resistant equipment. Some speakers, cables, and other audio components are designed with protective casings that shield them from water and dust. While these might be a bit more expensive, they’re worth it if outdoor gigs are a regular part of your You can find such gear in professional audio shops where quality and durability are prioritized, ensuring your investment lasts.

Use Protective Covers

Protective covers or cases are essential for anyone moving their gear in and out of different environments. Here are some options:

Waterproof Covers: These are a must-have if there’s even a slight chance of rain. Look for ones with a snug fit to keep moisture out.

Padded Cases: These offer extra protection from physical damage and temperature fluctuations.

Custom Covers: Many manufacturers offer covers designed specifically for their equipment. These often provide the best fit and protection.

When not in use, always keep your equipment covered—even if it’s indoors. Dust and humidity can still cause damage over time.

Be Mindful of Placement

Where you place your gear during a gig matters more than you think. Avoid setting up equipment directly on the ground, especially if it’s damp or dusty. Instead, use stands, tables, or other elevated surfaces to keep your gear away from potential hazards.

For outdoor gigs, try to:

Set up under a canopy or tent to shield your equipment from rain and direct sunlight.

Avoid areas prone to water accumulation, like low spots on the ground.

Manage Cables Properly

Cables are often overlooked when thinking about weather damage, but they’re just as susceptible. Wet or frayed cables can lead to poor sound quality or even damage your equipment. Here’s how to protect them:

Use weather-resistant cables with rubberized insulation.

Wrap all cable connections with electrical tape to keep water out.

Store cables in a dry, organized manner to avoid tangling and wear.

Use Desiccants and Dehumidifiers

If you live in a humid climate or frequently perform in damp conditions, desiccants and dehumidifiers are your new best friends. Desiccants, like silica gel packs, can be placed inside equipment cases to absorb moisture. Meanwhile, a portable dehumidifier can help keep your storage area dry, reducing the risk of long-term damage.

Check Weather Forecasts

This might sound obvious, but many people overlook it. Always check the weather forecast before an outdoor performance. If rain or extreme conditions are predicted, you can:

Reschedule the event if possible.

Arrange for additional protective measures like larger tents or tarps.

Have a Backup Plan

Sometimes, despite your best efforts, the weather just doesn’t cooperate. Having a backup plan can save you from last-minute stress:

Backup Equipment: Keep a set of less expensive gear that you can use in risky conditions.

Quick Setup Kits: Carry a tarp, zip ties, and duct tape to make quick fixes in emergencies.

Clean and Maintain Your Gear

Even if your equipment seems fine after exposure to the elements, it’s important to clean and inspect it. Use a dry, lint-free cloth to wipe down surfaces and remove any dirt or moisture. For electronics, consider using compressed air to clean hard-to-reach spots.

Regular maintenance not only extends the life of your gear but also ensures it performs optimally. If you notice any damage, get it repaired immediately to prevent further issues.

To conclude, protecting your audio equipment from weather damage doesn’t have to be a daunting task. With a little preparation and the right tools, you can ensure your gear stays safe, no matter what Mother Nature throws your way. And remember, investing in high-quality equipment and protective accessories from reputable audio shops like VIP PRO AUDIO can make all the difference. So the next time you’re planning an outdoor gig, take these precautions seriously. Your gear (and your wallet) will thank you!

[babzz6]

I love you so much it hurts. - Sevika x reader

tw: slight angst, fluff mostly.

Sevika who falls hard for you, I mean hands clammy and sweaty when you touch her in the slightest, eyes averted when you stare at her too much and a furious blush on her face when you compliment her.

Also Sevika who pushes you away after she notices the fat crush she has on you. In her mind she was just trying to protect you both, you're a weakness, her weakness and Sevika can't afford to have a weakness. You're a liability for her, if anyone found out just how much you really mean to her, it could be used against her, you could be put in the face of danger and she doesn't want that either.

But also she can't help but feel her heart swell in guilt when the plethora of texts you'd send her daily asking where she was and if she was okay just seemingly stopped coming. By the end of the third week she'd realized that just a week ago you stopped sending messages. Each text more dry than the last, though her eyes widened and her heart stopped in her chest when she saw the last thing you sent. It was an audio message, she clicked on the play button and pressed it against her ear.

"Hey Sev... hope you're okay." your voice has a slight rasp to it, like you'd been crying.

"Look I- I don't care if you're ignoring me, I just need to know you're okay." She sat down on her couch, cluthing the phone tightly in her hand, listening closely to your voice, because, fuck she had missed it.

"I can't sleep or eat or do anything, fuck-"

"I- I do care Sev, I so fucking care, I need you so much. I miss you. Miss the late nights watching tv, the soft praises when I place your arm correctly on your stump and the 'I don't care about you's but the tips of your ears are all red because you're obviously lying-" You paused, voice small and trembling.

"Did I do something wrong? I'll fix it- just- fuck please- I need you." and then you started sobbing and Sevika didn't even bother to finish what was rest of the audio, she grabbed her cloak and headed out the door because

she needed to you to.

A few minutes later she was infront of your door, using the key you had given her in case of 'emergency' but you both knew that was a lie.

The door creaked as it turned on its hinges and she winced slightly, eyes adgusting to the darkness of your apartment, scanning for any dangers before closing the door behind her. She walked around and in your apartment she looked so out of place, she was huge and her dark color palette didn't match the soft pastels that scattered your living space.

She strided along the hallway and opened your door and there you were curled in a ball, your small frame racked with sobs and trembling, you held your phone close to your face as you listened intently and that's when Sevika noticed you were listening to a voicemail, it was her.

"Hey doll, I'm a little busy so I can't see you right now, but I promise I'll swing by later okay? Silco's been having me run all over the city today and I can barely keep up and I'm really itching to have one of your homecooked meals and maybe some tlc.- she paused before letting out a small exhale, "I miss you too, yeah? I'll see you later, okay sweetheart?" and then the line broke and she watched as you grabbed your phone once again pressed a few buttons and let the voicemail play again and again.

"Hey sweetness." you turned around startled by her presence, you turned the bedroom light on and she stalked slowly to your bed, sitting on the edge of it, the bed dipping with her weight.

"What are you doing here?" you asked trying to mask your sorrow as anger or indifference but it came out small and shaky. Sevika's hand came up and caressed your cheek softly, her warm calloused hand wiping your tears away.

"You know I can't stay away from you for long, sweetheart." and just like that you jumped into her arms, hands tightly clutching her shirt as you sobbed on her shoulder, clinging to her as though you feared she wasn't really there. She held you just as tightly, every sob that left your body pierced her heart and she was upset at herself for leaving you. When your sobs finally died down, you reluctantly pulled yourself away from her grip, sitting beside her on the bed.

"Where were you?" you asked, eyes puffy and swollen staring up at her. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out, she hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out, what to say. Suddenly she stood up and kneeled before you, taking your hands in hers and pressing kisses on your fingers and up into your wrists.

"Doll, I gotta be honest with you." Sevika said in between kisses, staring at your hands because if she raised her gaze and met your wobbly lip and glassy eyes she would most likely break.

"I fucking love you, so much it fucking hurts. I think about you all the goddamn time, you're always on my mind. Need you every fucking day." she paused, drawing in a shaky breath.

"Fuck, I stopped coming because I'd thought it was better to push you away, I could protect you if I didn't get so attached and kept a distance, but fuck- That only made it worse, I couldn't do anything right, I got sloppy in my performance in the field, so much that Silco had to tell me to get a few days off."

You gasped softly and your hands took hold of her face, raising it by her chin to meet her gaze.

"I just- I was scared, okay? Scared that you might be used against me and you'd get hurt. Scared of this feeling because, gods know I don't know how to handle this thing-" she said, pausing to search for the word.

"Love?" you said, thumb stroking the blue scar on her cheek and she nodded, leaning into your touch. You leaned forward and pressed your lips into hers, sliding off the bed into her lap on the floor, the kiss deepening in the slightest as you both melted into the moment, the world around you felt distant, leaving just the warmth of your connection and the soft glow of the small desk lamp. Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as the gentle rhythm of your hearts synchronized. Time seemed to stand still, and in that intimate space, everything felt perfect, as if nothing else mattered but the two of you sharing this beautiful, unspoken bond. When you both broke away she rested her forehead on yours, sighing softly.

"You know everything about me and it scares me. You could destroy my heart and I could still love you and want you. You could use all of my weaknesses against me and I would still yearn for you and your touch," she confessed, eyes screwed shut, "And somehow, in all that fear, there's a part of me that believes you would never hurt me intentionally and love unconditionally. It's that hope that keeps me hanging on, even when the thought of losing you feels unbearable."

"I love you so much it hurts. I need you, doll." And with that, she reconnected her lips with yours again, pouring all her emotions into the kiss, as if trying to convey everything she felt in that moment. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in a cocoon of longing and desire, where every touch ignited a fire within, and every heartbeat echoed the depth of your connection.

"I love you Sevika. I love you more than anything," you said, parting away, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, and her temple.

"I need you," you whispered softly, your voice filled with sincerity. The warmth of your words hung in the air, and you could see the flicker of emotion in her eyes, a mix of love and vulnerability that made your heart race.

In that moment, everything felt right, as if you were both exactly where you were meant to be, bound by an unbreakable connection.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

—CHEESECAKE, APPLE PIE — K. KENMA

synopsis ; what was “supposed” to be a simple collaboration and streamer friendship ended up being an investigation for lore, but more importantly—romance.

cw ; afab!reader

note ; in case you're confused or don't know, in the manga, it's confirmed in the chapter 29 (volume 4) extra/omake page that kenma's favorite food is apple pie.

a/n ; im back. this is an older work that i wasn’t originally going to publish, but atp wtv.

“throwing my plushie based on how much i like the dessert”

you almost wanted to cackle at the comments. what should've been a simple tiktok by a popular tiktoker and streamer that was just doing a cute trend with a popular audio ended up becoming the subject to many people's theories and engrossments in a ship. at least, that was how it was to a neutral bystander who wasn't actively involved in the lore between you and kenma.

11.8 million likes.

at this point, the neutral bystanders that you just spoke of took up less than 1 percent of the online population. after all, it’s rare these days to meet someone who uses any sort of online platform to not be invested in or have at least heard of the lore between you and kenma. you had gone to elementary, middle, high school and college together, and you were both always having collabs with each other.

“cooking stream with kodzuken in 30 mins (watch him burn down the entire kitchen)” was one such example. you ended up being the one who almost burned the kitchen, but no one really cared about that one. they were more interested in the contents of the video and the title.

you both had brushed hands far too many times for it to be pure coincidence, and no one has ever seen kodzuken so happy before. he smiled a decent amount of time, but never this much. his eyes were softer around you as well. “the look of love” edits and clips of you both on that single stream began to go viral, with many claiming that you should both just date already.

and the title. it seems simple at first, but why add the comment in the parentheses? whenever you did a collaboration with anyone else, you would never add a comment like that, not even with the people you were closest with. so why add such a snarky and playful comment? sure, you've known each other for decades now, but it was still sketchy. and the fact that the antisocial and nearly friendless kodzuken allowed it? that only added fuel to the fire.

even more so, a famous fellow alumni from nekoma posted a photo of you and kenma from when you were both in high school, giving each other a high five when the team made it to nationals. you had been the manager after all. of course, it was lev who had posted it. after that, deciding it wasn't enough, kuroo decided to post childhood pictures of you and kenma playing video games together.

@ilovekodzuken123: chat this might not be casual

@kodzukenapplepie: are they willing to adopt me?

@kodzukenno1fan: i wanna be in a poly with them

finally, this is when people began to truly get invested. they searched through every single live stream, every single social media post, every single qna video. some even gave lev and kuroo dms for the two of them to send more pictures of you and kenma.

@skibidi2019: she called a guy with gyed hair in a video game cute. yk who else has dyed hair? KENMA

@unemployed55: they want each other so bad

and finally, the video that confirmed it all was finally posted. the one that truly had the online world in shambles.

“cheesecake,” you throw your plushie up a good amount. it barely goes over your head from when you had thrown it from your lap. “apple pie,” immediately, you throw your plush right up as much as you could, enough for it to hit the ceiling with a soft THUD. however, this was the point where many had stopped watching the video, because the description had said enough already by itself.

“guess who this is abt lmao. anyways hi bbg🫶”

instantly, your comments and dms exploded, along with kenma’s. laughing, you sent kenma a text.

did u see their reactions and comments? they’re funny asf

im just ken(ma): yeah i did

your fans were right. you both were indeed dating, but considering how these are their current reactions to your slight implication of romantic feelings, then it might still be too early to reveal that you’re dating.

[kireilien]

Hope u dont mind the spam 😣

Reader is maki's gf buuuut maki lets nico eat you out. Why? Cause he wanted to learn "properly". Everything else is history.

-#

ur giving me a run for my money this was so nghhhh da inspo nd that one comment “why they running a 2man on a burger” LOL but i had to make this into a love letter this is so mind blowing ty # anon

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing; bf!maki, bf bsf!nicholas, sub!reader, fem!reader, race neutral reader, “condescending,” “objectification,” thoughts of this being pseudo-cheating, maki sharing you, oral (f receiving), clit stim, ruined orgasm, lwk they pretend like you’re not there..., reader is referred to as “maki’s girl” a few times, the tws i’ll explain under the cut!

this was also inspired by one of my favorite nsfw asmrists on reddit u/-basilbasilbasil- and their audio about pussy inspection it just screams this scenario which is why i added those tags just in case if someone reads it and finds it uncomfortable! was also totally inspired by fumabun’s kissing ranking, just translated it to pussy eating lolz anyways

“okay. pretend like they aren’t wet already.” 

“how am i supposed to do that.” 

“just pretend, dude. i’m teaching you how to eat box, they’re not supposed to be wet already.” 

your bottom half is already bare, pussy open to both nicholas and maki. embarrassingly wet in front of them, you still couldn’t believe that maki– your fuckass boyfriend– was scared to try eating you out, so he asked nicholas– his best friend– to eat you out. it’s hard to pretend to sit there like a sex toy for their use, but i guess it’s all worth it for maki’s experience– and better yet your sex life and pleasure. 

“some guys just lay there, some guys just spread their legs, but you gotta hook your arms under their legs like this,” nicholas demonstrates by using his strong arms to clutch onto your legs. his hands slide down your inner thighs to spread them out a little more. maki sits up further on your bed to see nicholas’ next moves. “see when you have them like this, you have your eye on the prize.” maki nods at nicholas as he starts lowering his head. 

he flicks his tongue only slightly against your clit. you jolt at the sudden movement, “you wanna start off by only focusing on the clit. this is the clit. remember it. don’t be stupid and not know where it is because if the two of you break up, that’s gonna spread.” maki side eyed nicholas at his passive comment only for a bit before nicholas continued. “bob your tongue like this– it makes them wet, making them ready for you to eat up.” although nicholas’ tongue was out, causing his speech to get slightly unintelligible, maki still knew what he was talking about.

as nicholas carries on, your thighs twitch and soft moans fall from your lips. maki was good for calling nicholas out of everyone to eat you out. nicholas pull back only slightly, “see how they’re flowing? you can also thumb at them like this to get the same effect. just focus on the clit for a little bit.” nicholas’ thumb is rough, different from maki’s hands. your breath hitches and start breaking when your head is thrown back in your pillows. “see that? notice how they react too. if they’re unfazed, that’s how you know you’re fucked.” 

maki simply nods and hums once more. “and listen too. listen for the smallest things. you wanna know if they’re groaning like they’re hurting, humming like they’re bored, or actually whimpering for you.” nicholas points at his ear to indicate his ‘teachings’ to maki. 

“okay, after a few minutes, clit stuff isn’t it anymore, focus on their hole,” nicholas starts off first before coming back down to your pussy. “pussy juice is addicting, so don’t go all in. savor it. if you go crazy style, they’re just gonna get weirded out.” maki peers over your thighs once more to watch nicholas. “watch. take your tongue, cup it like this,” nicholas shows maki his tongue slightly curled before coming back down, “scoop up their wetness.” nicholas uses his curled tongue to push your leaking pussy juice against his tongue to taste you. nicholas smacks his lips once before muttering and flexing his jaw, “fuck, your girl tastes good.” maki jerks his head, “wait, what’d you say?” nicholas shakes his head, “nothing.” 

continuing on, nicholas starts up once more, “use your tongue and mouth at their entire pussy– like make out with it– watch.” nicholas uses his plush lips to envelop your pussy. his tongue drags up your labia and back up to your clit while closing his lips around it. maki’s looking intensely as if he’s taking notes up in his brain. nicholas keeps at it, “here, you kinda just freestyle. watch how they move and react. you might wanna snake your tongue down… kiss up in it… bite and suck at their lips… flick your tongue inside… tongue them back up… do whatever they like.” as nicholas talked, he reciprocated his words to his actions. if he talked about tonguing you, he tongued you. if he kisses you, he kisses you. almost down to an art. 

nicholas’ hands found themselves squeezing at the flesh of your thighs and ass as he watches you unfold on his tongue. your hands are gripping at your sheets, knees are bent up, legs closing in on the sides of his head. while your cries are growing louder. each moan, whine, and croak of pleasure is getting nicholas so fucking hard. his pants are tent up by how his cock is straining at his boxers. shit. if he had a girl too, he’d feel so fucking bad, but your pussy is heaven to him. the way you’re melting on his tongue and taste like pure gold. thank god this isn’t technically cheating on maki. 

right when you feel the knot in your stomach inches away from snapping, nicholas pulls away. you whine, “what–! fuck–!” nicholas lips his lips from your sweet juices, his eyes are zeroing into yours. fuck. he feels so wrong for not letting you cum but, you are maki’s girl. “you’re up, man. eat your girl out like i just showed you.” maki exhales deeply before switching with nicholas, “i’ll do it better than you. no one will make my girl cum like i do.” 

“sure, dude.”

might extend this with the maki part and make it like a ramble?

back 2 maki catalog / back 2 catalog

[conclover]

Mr. Tenna x GN! Reader | Static Hearts Part 1

Next chapter

Summary: Just a weird dreamcore fanfic with the lovely Mr. Tenna from Deltarune.

Warnings: This turned out to have more of a sexual undertone than I thought it would. So, just in case: +18. Yandere if you squint your eyes.

Notes: Yet another pathetic old man for the collection <3

Word count: 2K

The room was dim, lit only by the colorful flickering glow of the old television. You were slouched deep into the couch, barely able to grasp anything since it was almost 2:15 a.m. The only energy you had left was just enough to flip through channels, searching for something either interesting enough to keep you awake or dull enough to finally lull you to sleep.

CLICK.

“Mom, I love this dress. I don’t care what you say. This is the dress of my dreams—”

CLICK.

“He was a normal guy. Very caring with everyone in the neighborhood. How could we have possibly known he was a—”

CLICK.

“And then we take our dough that’s rested for at least two hours, and we—”

CLICK.

“Tired of scrubbing those impossible stains? From blood to any other type of—!”

Your thumb paused. Weird.

CLICK.

“Who killed them?”

The audio glitched for a second.

“W̸͈͉̜̏ḧ̸̢̧̻̥͐̉̇̐ò̸̫̱̠́̌͝ͅ ̶̡̥̹̟͊̉͆͠w̴̰̤̔̆̍ą̴͓̞͎̌̉s̵̩͙͉̭͛͋̆͂ ̵̧̼̪̳̄ȋ̶̩́̉t̶͈̠͍̃?̶̟̖̹̙̓̅͛͑͠ ”

A high pitched whine cut through the room.

“W̶̗͖͈̑̈́̏͠A̷̛͚͖͕Ş̵͖̜̖̮̃̂͒ ̸̡̲̪̟̀͊Ĩ̸̯̻͍̻̈̀̂͜͝T̴͎̍͘͘ ̸̟̙̰̪͛Ÿ̶̡̳̥̯̗͆̈́͠Ö̶͕̖̦̠͊̄̑̈́U̴͓̦͇̾?̷̨̧̼̭̾̌̓ͅ ”

Then, silence.

You blinked, suddenly more awake. The haze in your head cleared just enough to realize something wasn’t right.

“Alone on a Friday night?” a chipper voice echoed from the television, though it was warped, barely cutting through the thick hiss of static.

Your breath caught as your vision tunneled.

“Me too!”

The static wasn’t only on the screen anymore. It was around you, inside you, crackling at your fingertips. You could feel it everywhere, surrounding you.

You tried to move and tried to reach for the remote. But the static cocooned you, with its warm electricity, wrapping itself tight around your body and thoughts.

“Now, now... Don’t change the channel... we’re just getting started…”

The voice coiled around you like a soft blanket, whispering straight to the back of your mind. It was comforting in a way that felt too precise, like it knew you. Like it knew exactly how to speak to you.

It smoothed over your fear and pulled you gently toward the edge. And as the static wrapped around you like a warm blanket against your skin, you let your eyes slip shut and surrendered to the voice.

...

Darkness.

That’s all you remember. Not how you got here. Not how long it’s been.

“Ladies and germs!”

A voice sliced through your thoughts, bright, sharp, too close. It caught your attention without even trying, like it was wired into your nerves.

“Let’s have a big round of applause for our lovely contestant!”

A crowd erupted around you, if you could call them a crowd. Their shapes were odd, all teeth, horns and shadows. Demons, maybe. Or something worse. But they cheered like this was their favorite part of the night.

You blinked, your body suddenly lighter, more alert, like the energy of the place was crawling under your skin.

“Where the fuck am I?” you asked, your voice oddly clear, stronger than it should’ve been.

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷̧̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H̴̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

Color exploded across your vision. Neon lights pulsed. Spinning signs hung from nowhere. Glittering confetti surrounded you. It looked like something out of a retro game show from a fever dream. It was probably a quiz show, if someone had built it from dead channels and nightmares.

But where was the host?

“Oh, you’re too funny,” he said, voice twice as odd than the crowd cheering.

He was closer now, his voice curling in your ear like heat.

“You’re on the show, of course!”

Gloved hands slipped around your shoulders, firm and gentle, fingertips pressing just a little too long against your collarbone as he leaned in.

“Mmm. There we go,” he murmured, his lips close to your ear. “Center stage suits you!”

He guided you forward slowly, almost like a dance, his body brushing lightly against yours as he walked you to the podium.

The podium gleamed under the spotlight, elegant and ominous. Below it, a nameplate. Your name. Already there. Etched in with the kind of certainty that sent a chill up your spine.

“Don’t be nervous, sweetheart. This is your moment. I know you can do it…”

His voice was smooth as velvet, reassuring almost. His fingers ghosted along the small of your back, just long enough to make your breath hitch.

Then he stepped in front of you and for the first time, you saw him fully.

He had no eyes, but his smile was expressive enough to speak in paragraphs. And his head... it was a literal television!

This has to be a dream.

“You’ve got this,” he murmured, trailing a single gloved finger along your jaw.

You grabbed his gloved hand, not to push him away, but to demand an explanation for all of this. But he only smiled, gently slipping from your grip to begin the show.

Now he was standing across the stage, perfectly lit by a snapping spotlight, as if he’d always belonged there. The crowd erupted again as he twirled his microphone with lazy, practiced flair. He soaked in the attention like he was born for the spotlight.

You turned to the microphone in your own podium, hoping maybe speaking would wake you up from whatever the fuck was this.

“Hey,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “I have a question—”

Before you could finish, the host raised a single finger, his TV screen face focused sharply on you.

“Oh, I didn’t realize we’d swapped roles,” he said, flipping casually through a set of cue cards that hadn’t been there a second ago. “Next time you’ve got original ideas, darling, feel free to spring them on me right in the middle of the show. That’s the perfect time.”

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷̧̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H̴̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

“First question, cutie. What is the name of this show’s host?”

His voice rang out playfully, echoing across the set. The screen behind him glitched slightly, displaying four answer choices, each one flickering in that old school game show font.

A) MR. TV GUY

B) MR. LIL’ NOSE

C) MR. TENNA

D) MR. EMAIL

The lights dimmed, the demons went silent and his smile widened.

You stared at answers, unsure if you were supposed to laugh or run. None of them made any sense, but one of them felt just plausible enough.

“Mr... Tenna?”

You hovered your hand over the button, then pressed it down.

A chime sounded, loud and triumphant.

The host, Mr. Tenna, lit up like someone had just proposed to him on live television.

“Ohhh, you sweet thing! How did you know?” he cried, clapping his hands with delight, his grin stretching impossibly wide.

He spun in place, his red suit catching the light, with a smirk that practically dripped from the edge of the screen.

“Next question! Pay attention, darling.”

Mr. Tenna brought the cue card closer to his screen like face, squinting theatrically as if struggling to read it, though of course, he had no eyes.

“What is Mr. Tenna’s biggest... fear?”

A) Loneliness.

B) Being forgotten.

C) No one loves him.

D) Betrayal.

“Stop. Don’t answer.”

Mr. Tenna’s smile froze. Then, just for a second, the screen that was his face went blank. Completely lifeless. His shoulders slouched. Arms limp. Static buzzed faintly in the silence.

“You know what?” he said suddenly, snapping back to life, posture upright, voice sparkling with renewed enthusiasm. “I actually loved your enthusiasm!”

Without warning, he tossed his cue cards high into the air like confetti. They fluttered down in slow motion, catching the stage lights like paper snow. He strode toward you with a spring in his step, that same feverish energy returning to his every movement.

“My enthusiasm?” you asked, voice a little smaller than before.

“Uh-huh,” he cooed, clasping his hands together with something disturbingly close to adoration.

A faint blush glowed across the lower corners of his screen, making his appearance oddly endearing and almost charming.

Tenna turned, glancing offstage, though there was no visible place like that, just darkness.

“Mike, bring the polygraph!”

His voice rang out with the giddy excitement of someone hosting a game they’d waited centuries to play.

Somewhere in the shadows, something began to stir and just like that Mr. Tenna vanished.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, my dear,” his voice cooed softly, suddenly right against your ear. “This won’t hurt a bit. It’s just for fun.”

Before you could react, you felt gloved hands slip around your waist. They moved with urgency, moving up your torso to fasten a strange belt just above your chest. Cool metal brushed your skin as electrodes were carefully pressed to your fingertips. He gently guided your hand back onto the podium, holding it down for a moment longer than necessary.

“Just be sure not to move...” he whispered, voice dipping into something lower, almost dangerous, “...as it could affect your results negatively.”

The last thing he placed on you was a blood pressure cuff. He cinched it tighter than it needed to be, enough to make a point. And you weren’t in much of a position to complain.

Then his warm lips hovered by your ear.

“Oh, and one more thing... I want sincere answers. Am I clear?”

You nodded carefully, trying not to shift too much beneath the wires and straps.

His gloved hand cupped your face with an unsettling gentleness, and without warning, he gave your cheeks a soft, playful squeeze.

“Good contestant!” he chirped, like he was praising a pet.

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷̧̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H̴̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

“Let’s continue then,” Tenna said smoothly, turning on his heel with a little flourish.

He strolled back toward the screen, not to far, but still close enough to watch you.

“With my very special, improvised questions crafted just for our star contestant...” he purred, spreading his arms like a magician about to pull a dove out of a hat.

He stepped closer again, until his screen was just inches away from your face. His glow bathed your skin in soft static. You didn’t move, couldn’t. You simply tried to breathe, to brace yourself for whatever came next.

“Where do you want to be right now?” he asked, voice softer this time, almost curious.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, like he was scanning you.

A) ON THE TV!

B) IN MY HOUSE???

C) ON THE BACKSTAGE ALONE WITH MR. TENNA.

D) CLAPPING AMONG THE CROWD.

Your heart told you one thing. Your nerves another. But Tenna... he was watching you closely. So you swallowed hard and pressed the button for A.

“Yes! Excellent choice. You’re telling me the truth,” he gasped, clapping his hands together like a delighted host with his favorite contestant. “But you know…”

He turned slightly toward the audience, voice dipping into a conspiratorial purr.

“I would’ve also accepted C.”

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷̧̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H̴̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

Tenna glanced back at you, his smile flashing with the glow of his screen.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you...”

He took a slow step closer, then another, until his presence practically buzzed against your skin. A gloved hand slipped casually around your waist, fingers resting there like he had every right.

“Let’s make this more difficult.”

He turned his head just enough to gesture toward the glowing screen, then brought his face back to yours, closer now, watching for the tiniest twitch in your expression.

The question appeared behind him: who have you been longing for?

A) Elnina and Lanino. They come in the same pack.

B) My ex.

C) Mike.

D) Mr. Tenna!

Oh my. How did I get myself into this?

You couldn’t tell if the audience was laughing or glitching. Either way, Tenna was grinning.

“Oh, how spicy,” he said, his voice practically brimming with joy. “I love these kinds of questions. They put the contestants right under the spotlight where they belong.”

He gestured upward, and in an instant, a searing beam of light dropped down on you, hotter than before.

“Now then. Tell us, sweetheart...” he said, his voice lowering in your ear like a secret. “Who has your heart been aching for?”

The light above you seemed to burn a little, or maybe that was just the flush creeping up your neck.

“We’re dying to know.”

You swallowed before answering.

“Mr. Tenna.”

He froze. Not with fear, but with intrigue. You’d answered so quickly, and that alone seemed to catch him off guard. The edges of his smile wavered just slightly, like a corrupted frame struggling to hold itself together.

“I don’t know anyone,” you continued, voice quiet. “Except for you.”

You looked up at him, as if expecting him to stop this nonsense. But he didn’t. If anything, your vulnerability lit him up even more.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he stammered, his voice losing some of its usual smoothness, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Careful what you confess in front of a live audience.”

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷̧̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H̴̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

“Ahem... Next question.” He tried to sound more authoritative, but his voice came out softer, like he was still trying to collect himself.

He quickly grabbed some cue cards from the floor, flipping them over a little too fast, his fingers trembling just enough to betray his nerves.

“Okay, okay…” He muttered to himself as he scanned the questions. “Who would you choose... if you had to kiss someone... in this room?”

A̴̛͚̬̙̗̳̭̅̔̊̀́͗̈́̄̈́̃̇A̴̞͍̫̹̣͖̮̗̠̳͖͔͂̈́́̑͜A̶̹͇̯̝̰͎̣̯̅̾̽́̈̓̅̇͗̆͋̀͘̕͝Ą̷̻̘̝̥̱̪̯̗̮͕̩̳͒̍́͛̋̊̈́͊͂̀͘̕A̶̜͓̾̉̆̈̑̎̊͂͗̎͘A̶̛̼͖̜͖͔͇͇̼͚̖͎̎̊̅͗́̈́̒̆́̎̾͐̓̈Ȃ̸̢̡̨̮̮͓̱̟̹̤̘̼̬̙͗̍̈́̃̑͆͝Ă̶̙̈͑́́̉́̊͘Ą̶̢̧̲̟̫̟̝͔̱͉̲̭̜͗̑̋̄̄͂̿̈́̄̽͐̈́̚A̶̛̭͍͍̞͈̬̻͈̱̱̲͎̍́̈́ͅA̷̳̟̠̞͔̦̒̆̂́͋͊̕A̴̰͍̪͆̐̔̀͆̈͐̂̑̀̃̽͘͝͝Ẁ̷̗̼̭͙͓̦͈͕̘̠͊W̵̠͈̮͛̕͝Ŵ̵̨̗͕͖̣̺̘͍̞̓̇͆̌͒̃̑̽͠Ẇ̸̪̝̺͊̒̉́ͅW̴̡̨͙̖̬̰̱̟̪̠͙͔̒̈́͊͊͌̿̑̔͗

Then, looking back at you, his smile reappeared, but it was a little more strained now, corners twitching with a nervous energy.

“Just kidding! Just kidding! It’s a silly ques—”

“Mr. Tenna,” you said quickly, already understanding the game, already seeing how this would unfold.

Tenna’s expression faltered. His smile flickered briefly, like he was processing the answer but didn’t quite know how to handle it.

“Oh, dear,” he breathed, his hand sliding to his collar and tugging it as if the air had suddenly grown warmer. “You sure know how to keep things interesting.”

He turned on his heel, facing the audience with a sudden flourish, clearly in desperate need of a breather.

“And with that...” he declared, still a little breathless, “...we’ll be right back after the commercial break!”

He didn’t wait for the cameras to cut. No final wink. No flashy exit. Just a quiet turn and a quick walk toward the edge of the stage. So you decided to follow him, just to get more answers.

Backstage was… bizarre. It didn’t have the chaos you would have expected for a place like this. It actually looked cozy with potted plants and comfy couches. And people. Or… something close to people.

Among them stood a curious couple that looked like they were made for each other. Like the moon and the sun, though the moon was actually... a cloud?

They noticed you staring at them and the taller one gave you a polite nod.

“You lost, love?” asked the taller one, his face oddly shiny, like he’d just returned from a luxurious vacation somewhere far too sunny for this kind of place. His smile shimmered with the same glow, just slightly too perfect to feel real.

You blinked, still stunned to be meeting these… people. Weather systems? TV spirits? You weren’t sure.

“I’m looking for Mr. Tenna,” you said cautiously. “Have you seen him?”

The other one leaned in, voice warm and breezy. “Hmm. I don’t know. He’s never left a show like that before.”

“Very rare,” the taller one added with a knowing smile. “And very cute.”

The cloudy one, her white hair subtly shifting with looping wind currents gazed lovingly at her partner.

“They have to be together or something,” she whispered to the sunny man.

You blinked surprised. “I just met this man like… ten minutes ago.”

The couple looked at eachother with an unreadable expression only they could understand. Then, in perfect sync, they lifted their arms and pointed towards a door.

“He went that way.”

...

Next chapter

[p-seduonym]

The Little Light That Got Lost (Part Thirteen)

A/N: I'm back! And I will probably be slowing down on updates compared to before my break. I've been busy and can't update as frequently as I'd like but I'm not going to just drop the series.

Taglist: @cheust, @i-simp-for-women, @goodsoup19, @143637-hrrm, @delias-stuff, @12nitled, @cutenessbun, @rinkydinkythinky, @trashlanternfish360, @bunbunbread, @daddysfangirls-dc, @justannie18, @moon0goddess, @blackhood1229

Part One

Part Two

Part 2.5

Interlude

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

FILE NAME: CaseyTape_TDNotes_v2.txt AUTHOR: T. Drake ATTACHED TO: Audio Cassette “me + her” SECURITY LEVEL: BatNet Internal – Tier 3

[Begin recording – faint click, soft tape hiss] CASEY (whispering): Are you listening? I brought a tape for you. This one’s just for us, okay?

[Soft rustle—fabric shifting. A faint, rhythmic creaking. Rocking chair? Bedframe?]

CASEY (softly): What is it? It’s a machine. For remembering. It’s just you and me now. Mister John left a while ago.

[Silence. The occasional fabric shift. Then Casey begins humming—slow, hypnotic, almost familiar.]

CASEY: I was quiet today. Like you taught me. I folded my hands at lunch. I didn’t talk, even when they kicked my chair. You said good kids get remembered. …I want to be remembered too.

[Another pause. Casey hums again—same lullaby pattern noted in Hoffman’s logs. Words still indistinct.]

CASEY (closer to the mic): I’m sorry I told Mister John about you. I know you don’t like him. But… he saw you. No one saw you before.

[A small sniff. Emotion restrained.]

CASEY: He said you’re old magic. Said you’ve been here longer than the house. Longer than Daddy. But I already knew that.

[The lullaby returns—low and unbroken.]

CASEY:They don’t like you, Yaya. Mister John, says you’re hurting. Alfred says I shouldn’t talk to you.

[Distortion. Something creaks—heavier now, deeper. Not mechanical.]

CASEY (sharp whisper): Did you hear that? …I think someone’s coming.

[Movement. The mic muffles—likely hidden beneath blanket or pillow.]

CASEY (muffled): I have to hide you, Mister Tape. Stay quiet, okay?

[Several seconds pass. Then—knock. Door opens.]

DICK (muffled): Casey? You there?

CASEY: Yes.

DICK: Hey, kiddo. How you doing?

CASEY (uncertain): I’m okay.

[Soft footsteps. Chair creaks.]

DICK: Mind if I sit? (Beat) I, uh… I brought you that book. The one with the moon and the rabbits? You used to love that one. Was gonna give it to you for your birthday but I—

CASEY (quietly): —Was busy?

DICK (softly): (Sighs) Yeah. Sorry, kiddo.

[Pause. Casey hums quietly, almost like background static.]

DICK: So, hey, what’re you working on? Looks like you’re drawing?

CASEY: Yeah.

DICK: What are you drawing?

CASEY (after a beat): It’s not done.

DICK: Can I see?

[Paper rustles.]

CASEY (flat): No.

DICK (gentle): That’s okay. You can show me later if you want. (Beat) You know, Damian likes to draw too. You ever wanna—

CASEY (quickly): No.

DICK: No?

CASEY: I don’t wanna draw with him. (softer) He’s mean.

DICK: (Sighs) C’mon, Case. I know he’s a little prickly, but I think he’d like you if—

CASEY: He won’t. He said so.

DICK: Did he?

CASEY: I tried to borrow his paints. He got mad.

DICK: Casey, you know you have to ask when—

CASEY: I did. He still got mad.

[Pause. Paper shifts again.]

DICK: …Okay. We don’t have to talk about it now. Maybe another day.

[Silence. A faint tapping—like nails on wood.]

DICK: Tim said you’ve been having trouble sleeping. I used to have nightmares too, when I was little. Sometimes I still do.

CASEY: Do yours talk back?

[Beat. DICK doesn’t respond immediately.]

DICK (soft): No. Mine were just shadows. But if yours talk… maybe they’re not dreams.

[Bed creaks softly as Casey shifts.]

CASEY: She says you're sorry.

DICK: …Is she right?

CASEY: You left. You were gone a long time. She says you only came back cause I’m not being good anymore. Cause I’m acting weird.

DICK (a little broken): That’s not true.

CASEY (calm, flat): She said you’d say that.

[Long silence. The hum of the recorder fills the space. Casey hums again, the same lullaby. DICK doesn’t speak.]

DICK (quiet, like a promise): I’m here now. Even if you don’t want me to be. I’m staying.

[Rocking sound resumes—slow, rhythmic.]

CASEY (barely audible): Okay.

[Silence. A flicker of distortion.]

DICK: We can read that book later. Right before bed, okay?

[Recording cuts out.]

PERSONAL LISTENING NOTES – T.D. Cleaned Tape Playback: #3 Transcript Match: Confirmed Audio irregularities: Still present — see below GENERAL OBSERVATIONS: Casey is consciously addressing someone. It’s whispered. Intentional. This isn’t just a child talking to themselves—it’s closer to ritual. Calling the recorder a “machine for remembering” feels almost ceremonial. This isn’t about storytelling. It’s preservation. Witnessing. Their behavior follows a logic Yaya taught them: “Good kids get remembered.” Which implies something darker: What happens to the ones who aren’t? ENTITY REFERENCES: Constantine confirmed he could see her. First external corroboration. If he saw something—spectral, arcane, or otherwise—he hasn’t shared it with me. “You’ve been here longer than the house.” Matches what we’ve uncovered. She predates the Wayne estate. Possibly colonial era. Possibly older. AUDIO ANOMALIES (FLAGGED): ~5:37: Sub-bass creak—heavy, organic. Doesn’t align with Dick’s movement. Same anomaly from Tape 2. ~7:50: Vocal anomaly layered under lullaby. Female. Breathless. Not Casey. Spectral filtering isolates a second voice. Running spectro-analysis again. DICK’S INTERVENTION – NOTES: He’s trying. Genuinely. You can hear how much he wants to reach them. But Casey is guarded. Not shy—protective. Refuses to share the drawing. Not out of embarrassment, but secrecy. They’re keeping something from him. Maybe from all of us. Paint incident with Damian: Minor in scale. But Casey felt it deeply. They interpreted it as proof they’re not wanted. Not good. They’re internalizing guilt as the price of love. Exactly what Yaya wants. MOST DISTURBING EXCHANGE: DICK: “Sometimes, I still do.” CASEY: “Do yours talk back?” Not metaphor. Not imagination. Casey is describing a presence. Something with will. With voice. And then: “She says you only came back because I’m not being good.” Yaya is rewriting abandonment as punishment. She’s not just haunting Casey. She’s parenting them. T.D. PERSONAL NOTE: I don’t know how to stop this. It’s not inside them—it’s shaping them. And it knows we’re listening. —TD

A/N: It'll get better before it gets worse. That's all I can say without spoiling anything too much.

[monicfever]

mine before you knew it. 𝜗𝜚 ben poindexter.

dex has been watching you long before you ever noticed him. every post, every route, every person you talk to; he's documented it all. when someone flirts with you at a party, he decides it’s time to make himself known. you don’t remember inviting him in, but he’s already in your house, and he doesn’t plan on leaving.

cw ᝰ .ᐟ canon dex behaviour ,, stalker!dex ,, obsessive tendencies ,, gn!reader (you/your) ,, drinking ,, jealousy ,, dark themes

you didn’t notice him at first.

that part used to bother him. not that you were careless, he never thought that, but that you didn’t see him. not in the way he saw you. maybe you caught glimpses, brushed past him in crowded halls or skimmed over his name in comment sections or replies, maybe you liked a message he left, once. that was enough to ruin him for days.

he still remembers the first time you looked through him like he wasn’t there. it was raining. you had one hand over your phone, shielding the screen from the drizzle, scrolling — laughing — and he watched you laugh at something someone else had said. not him. not yet. that’s when he knew it couldn’t stay like this.

you needed someone who would keep track of things when you didn’t. someone to notice the people getting a little too close. someone who pays attention. dex pays attention like it’s religion. your posts, your playlists, the way you smile with closed lips when you're tired. he has it all. every route you take home, every photo tagged, every drink you order even though you never finish it. he keeps it like it’s sacred. like it matters.

because to him, it does.

he doesn’t sleep much anymore. not since he found you, not since your presence became a constant static in his brain. sleep feels like missing something. like letting go of a thread that he's wound too tightly around his fingers to ever want undone.

he scrolls through your stories with the kind of reverence people reserve for prayer. slows down when you’re on camera. pauses. rewatches. the way your lashes cast shadows when you glance down, the flicker of your fingers tucking hair behind your ear. background noise doesn’t matter. no one else matters, it’s always been just you.

your laugh — he has audio saved. cropped clean, renamed, catalogued by date. you laughed differently last week. more tired. he noticed. that’s why he’s here, why he’s watching. someone needs to be paying attention.

the air in his room is dim and dust-heavy, lit only by the screen glow, your face reflected faintly in the dark glass of his monitor. next to it a corkboard cluttered with ticket stubs, receipts, blurry polaroids. things you touched, things you threw away. he kept them all.

there’s a looped video playing in the background. you’re walking down a street, wrapped in a jacket that isn’t warm enough. he knows that jacket. it’s the one you always wear when you’re anxious. he has another video from two weeks later, where you don’t wear it. he replays both, side by side. wonders what changed.

he knows you’re throwing a party tonight.

you posted about it two hours ago, tagged someone he doesn’t recognize. he’s already on his way before the story expires. he screenshotted it anyway, just in case.

the train is mostly empty, flickering overhead lights, a low mechanical drone, the soft murmur of strangers behind cracked earbuds. dex doesn’t look at anyone; no one looks at him. he prefers it this way. he sits near the back, hoodie up, one leg jittering faintly with the rhythm of the tracks, the motion sharp, nervous, hungry.

his phone is still in his hand, thumb brushing over the curve of your smile on his screen like it’s fragile, like it might disappear if he presses too hard. you’re wearing the little silver necklace again. the one you always wear. he remembers when you got it. remembers the caption. “felt like treating myself.”

he wonders if you knew how that would make him feel. if you had any idea how that sentence would spiral in his head for weeks.

treating yourself.

as if anyone else should be allowed to.

he closes the story, scrolls down. reads the comments again. a few are harmless. some are not. one stands out. someone calling you baby like they have the right. he’s seen that username before, already looked them up. his grip on the phone tightens.

the train slows, brakes shriek like metal in pain. the lights flicker again, a little too long this time. he doesn’t mind the sound. it covers the noise in his head.

he’s only three stops away now. he could walk it, if he needed to. he already mapped the route, just in case. just in case something like this happened. you getting touched by hands that don’t deserve you. you laughing like that for someone who isn’t him. he can’t have that. not when he’s been so patient.

not when he’s already memorized the way you say hello, how it changes depending on the time of day. not when he’s tracked every shift in your mood, the songs you post at 3 a.m., the spacing in your texts when you’re lonely but pretending not to be. not when he’s so close now.

three stops away. three blocks out. he steps off the train with a precision that doesn’t look like purpose, but is. rain clings to the sidewalk in thin, reflective puddles. city lights warp inside them like oil spills. it’s cold enough to sting, but he doesn’t notice. he’s too busy thinking about you — what you’ll be wearing, how your voice will sound layered over music, laughter, other people’s noise.

he hates that part. the other people part. you shine too easily in crowds.

he tugs his hood tighter. passes lit windows, strangers smoking under awnings, the occasional blur of passing traffic. your building is a few minutes from here. he’s made the walk before. not often. not too often. just enough to understand what kind of locks are on your front door, how long your hallway light stays on, which window belongs to you.

he wonders if you’ve had a drink yet. if your cheeks are flushed. if you’ve smiled at someone the way you used to smile at your camera — soft and a little distant, like the world couldn’t quite reach you.

he checks his phone again. the story is down. your name still sits at the top of his screen like it belongs there. you tagged someone he didn’t know, and that alone was enough to bring him here. he scrolls down again, rereads the comment. the one that didn’t sit right. the one with a nickname you never gave him. it burns a little.

everything does lately.

he crosses the last street, the building is already in view now — faint music spilling from the windows, warm yellow light pooling on the sidewalk. people inside, silhouettes moving, laughing, forgetting themselves. he wonders if you feel different tonight. he wonders if you know you’re being watched.

not by the strangers in the room, not by the guy trying too hard to impress you with a joke he stole off twitter, but by someone who knows you better than they ever could. he pauses just short of the entrance. watches. listens.

the music is too loud, the kind of song people only pretend to like when they’re drunk. someone’s shouting over it, slurring a story no one cares to hear. he lets it all blur. his eyes flicker past the doorway, over unfamiliar faces, a haze of movement. not you. not yet. but he knows you’re here. he steps inside like the house was built for him, like the party was always meant to be watched from behind his eyes. no one looks twice.

he moves slow, slides through the crush of people like smoke, like a shadow with a pulse. a girl bumps into him, her perfume clings for a second too long. he doesn’t react. his hands stay in the pockets of his jacket. his phone, warm against his palm, vibrates once — a notification from the account he uses just to track your likes. he doesn’t need to open it. he knows whatever it is, it’s about you.

the apartment is bigger than it looked from the outside. open floor plan, too many candles, too much fake gold and velvet. he catches fragments of laughter, bits of voices — but none of them belong to you.

he keeps walking. not frantic, never that. he’s patient. he always finds you in the end. you’re here, somewhere. he can feel it in his chest like gravity.

the air inside clings heavy, sweetened with spilled liquor, candle smoke, too many perfumes layered over sweat and skin. everything feels a little slow, like the whole night is being seen through a fogged window. ben moves through the rooms like he’s underwater. his eyes flicker over faces, details.

the chipped black nail polish on a girl’s fingers as she flicks her lighter. a boy leaning too close into someone else’s space. laugh lines deepened by wine. none of it is you.

still, he watches. catalogues.

there’s a mirror on the wall near the hallway. big, gold-framed, antique but fake. he stops in front of it. not to look at himself — he knows what he looks like — but to study the room reflected behind him. you’re not in the mirror, either.

he can hear someone playing with the music in the next room, skipping too fast through a playlist that doesn’t know what it wants to be. bass fades into bedroom pop, then dissolves into silence — someone laughs, and for a split second, he thinks it’s you. his stomach pulls. but it’s not. he knows the shape of your laugh. he knows the way it folds when you’re drunk, the way it curls when you’re trying to hide something.

this one’s too loud. too shallow. not yours.

he moves on.

past bodies slouched across velvet couches, half-finished drinks sweating on coffee tables, a cigarette smoldering in someone’s untouched hand. the party is bleeding at the edges, he can feel it. that late-night looseness, when everything starts to fray and people forget how they’re supposed to behave. how they’re supposed to watch themselves. he wonders if you’ve already started to drift. if your mind is somewhere else. he wonders if anyone else would notice. not like he would, of course.

they don’t know how your eyes get distant when you’re overwhelmed. how your fingers twitch when you want to leave but don’t say it. he’d know. he’d make everyone leave the party for you.

he moves down the hallway now, the one that leads to the kitchen — then the bedrooms, and then the back balcony where you sometimes go when you need air but don’t want to say it out loud. he’s memorized the layout of your apartment down to the way the floorboards creak by the bookshelf. he’s only ever seen parts of it in your photos, your stories, glimpses over your shoulder on video calls. but he knows it. he knows it like it belongs to him.

the kitchen is a mess — half-empty bottles, a bowl of melting ice, three wine glasses with smudged lipstick rings. someone he doesn’t recognize is leaning against your counter like they belong there. they don’t. he stares long enough for them to feel it. long enough for them to shift, unease creeping into their shoulders before they look away.

good.

he likes that they’re uncomfortable.

they should be.

he doesn’t see you here either, but your presence is everywhere. your handwriting on a sticky note near the fridge. your playlist still looping in the background, quiet under the thrum of conversation. your jacket — draped over the arm of the couch in the other room. you were here.

he can feel the ghost of your warmth in the space, like breath in cold air. he takes a slow breath. your house. your party. your people — though none of them matter, not really. you’ve let them in, yes. but he knows you didn’t mean to let everyone in. not like that. they’re all just passing through. just noise. he’s the one who stays. he’s the one who sees everything.

then he hears it. your laugh. it floats in from the living room, warm and real and unmistakable. cut sharp through the hum of chatter and music and clinking glass. like a thread tugged through the air. like fate snapping its fingers. his whole body stills. his eyes close for half a second, just to feel it better. to let it sink in. you’re close. he doesn’t rush toward it, he just moves. like a tide pulling in.

he slips past the doorway, brushing shoulders with someone who doesn’t even register him. doesn’t matter. they never do.

the laugh comes again. closer this time. a little louder, a little messier. you’re not alone. his jaw tightens and he keeps moving.

your voice. your real voice, not filtered through a screen or muffled in headphones. alive. unguarded. glowing at the edges. he follows the sound around the corner, weaving through bodies, until — he sees you. finally.

you’re in the den, low-ceilinged, warm with too many bodies, lights strung haphazardly along the curtain rods like someone tried to make it feel magical and forgot halfway through. someone opened the window a crack and the cold drifts in lazily, mixing with the warmth of too many people, too much perfume, the sharp bite of citrusy liquor poured too generously.

you’re sitting on the edge of the couch, one leg folded underneath you, the other dangling lazily, like you’ve forgotten how beautiful you look just existing. your drink is sweating in your hand. your smile is tilted — soft, glossy, and just a little reckless. you’re laughing. at him.

the boy beside you is leaning in too close, smiling too wide, saying something that makes you tilt your head, your mouth parting like you’re about to say something clever. you touch his arm. ben watches — still, from the doorway.

the rest of the party falls away.

his breath halts in his throat. just for a moment. just long enough to feel it catch, raw and bitter behind his teeth. you’re smiling like you mean it, laughing like this is easy, like you’ve done this before. maybe you have.

he doesn’t move closer yet; he watches. his eyes trace the shape of you — your bare shoulders, the little twist of your mouth when you sip from your drink, the way you tuck your foot under yourself when you're starting to get too comfortable.

he knows what that means. you’re not thinking about leaving.

his hands curl slowly into fists inside his jacket pockets. the guy next to you — he’s talking too much. too confident. too unaware. he doesn’t know that everything about this room has been witnessed. that ben has watched your smile a thousand times and knows the difference between real and polite. between safe and open. between yours and not theirs.

dex has studied this exact angle of your face in grainy videos and bathroom-mirror selfies, he’s memorized the way your smile falters when you start to get tired, the way you hold eye contact for half a second longer when you’re flirting. and this boy — this idiot — is reading it all wrong.

he’s acting like you belong to anyone.

like you’re available to be touched, to be offered drinks, to be read like you haven’t already been written, rewritten, underlined, and claimed in the quiet corners of def’ mind.

he steps into the room quietly, his presence pressing into the space like a shift in weather. he doesn’t look at you right away. doesn’t storm over. no, that would be obvious. that would give too much away. dex knows how to play this game better than anyone.

he lingers near the bookcase. pretends to scan the spines like he's looking for something — maybe a title, maybe a reason to be here that isn’t you— but it’s all for show. he already knows every book you own. alphabetical order, dog-eared corners, broken spines where you reread the same passage over and over. he’s traced them all in your photos, in your videos, in the background of the life you unknowingly broadcast to him.

his jaw tenses when you laugh again. he can’t help it. it bubbles up inside him — something low and burning and dangerous. the guy beside you touches your arm. light, casual. dex sees red.

he moves. not toward you yet, just into orbit. close enough to cast a shadow.

he brushes past a girl holding a half-full drink, and in a motion so precise it almost looks accidental, his shoulder clips her just enough. her arm jolts. vodka cranberry arcs mid-air in a pink-red blur. direct hit. the guy flinches, sputters, curses. his shirt clings to his chest, stained, dripping.

people turn. there’s a murmur. laughter, a few oof’s. a half-hearted apology from the girl, too dazed to question how it happened. the guy’s face flushes. annoyed. embarrassed. he stands up quickly, muttering something about towels.

just like that he’s gone. dex doesn’t look at him, doesn’t have to. he’s already shifting toward you now. eyes soft, smile subtle, hands still in his pockets. harmless.

“that looked messy.” he offers, low enough for only you to hear, voice a perfect calm. as if he didn’t cause it. as if he hadn’t orchestrated it down to the second.

his voice is easy. it should sound casual, but it doesn’t. not to you. not when you turn your head to look at him, eyebrows raised in a mix of surprise and curiosity, and for a brief moment, he sees the way your lips part, your eyes narrowing slightly, like you’re about to ask him if he did that on purpose.

did he?

he swallows. the thought nearly chokes him. but then you laugh — light, effortless, that same soft sound that wraps around him like a ribbon. just like that the world outside of you starts to blur again. your laugh hangs in the air like smoke, curling into his lungs, filling up his chest. it’s everything, and it's nowhere, all at once. the sound of you, the way you look when you’re talking, the way your eyes sparkle when you’re this close, it’s too much.

his heart hammers in his chest. a slow thump. and another. and another. it’s getting louder. faster. pounding like it’s trying to escape.

you’re still talking. he hears the words now, but they’re slipping off the edges of his mind. the way your mouth moves, the softness of your voice — the jealousy tightening around his throat, squeezing, coiling like a snake, suffocating his every breath.

why were you laughing with him?

why was he touching you?

you don’t need him.

you should be looking at me.

im the one who sees you.

his fingers twitch, the barest tremor sliding through his hands, and for a second, he wants to reach out. wants to pull you away. to wrap his hands around your wrist and just drag you into another room where he can lock the door and forget this whole damn night ever happened.

the softness of your gaze, the glint in your eyes, it’s all hazy. it’s blurring. everything around him blurs. his stomach twists. then the silence cuts through. you stop talking. you’re looking at him now.

there’s a sudden sharpness in your gaze, like you’ve noticed something in him that wasn’t there a moment ago. that thought is the one thing that brings him crashing back to the surface. the room is still too loud, the bodies around you, shifting, laughing, lost in their own worlds — none of it matters.

none of it is real. not when you’re looking at him like that.

your voice, still soft and questioning, breaks through the chaos in his head. “hey” you’re a little unsure, a little confused. “are you okay?”

it’s just a question. it’s a simple question. but the way it lands, the way it cuts through the fog in his brain, it’s enough to make him stop. he swallows hard. focuses.

calm down.

calm down.

control yourself.

“yeah — yeah, i’m fine.” he finally speaks, voice light. he rolls his shoulders back like he’s just shaking something off, like the air hasn’t gone razor-sharp behind his ribs. lets out a half-laugh, even adds a slight smirk for effect. “think your friend took the worst of it, honestly.” he nods toward the direction the guy disappeared, all soaked and humiliated. his tone is teasing, like they’re sharing some inside joke. “he okay?”

you blink up at him — eyes glassy, glossy, just a little hazy around the edges. he notices the way your pupils flutter when you try to focus, how your smile pulls wider than it needs to. you’re tipsy. not gone, but warm. soft around the edges.

“he’s fine,” you giggle, waving your drink a little carelessly. “drama queen. probably just didn’t wanna ruin his shoes.” you take a sip like punctuation, the rim of the cup tilting a little too far before you catch it. your fingers are relaxed, loose, the way they get when you’re floating a few drinks in, weightless, like nothing could go wrong.

dex watches you over the edge of his smile. it’s still there — half-curved, practiced, soft enough to look harmless. but his eyes are too steady, too still. “drama queen?” he lets the words roll off his tongue, amused. “gonna start calling him that to his face? or is that a secret between us now?”

you laugh again — louder this time. your head tips back just slightly, and dex watches the curve of your throat with something sharp behind his teeth. “maybe,” you say, grinning. “depends if you’re fun enough to keep around.”

it’s a joke. just a tipsy, casual joke. it hits him like a match dragged across dry skin. “i can be,” he says softly. “but you might find out i’m hard to get rid of.”

your smile twitches like you’re not sure if he’s kidding. you don’t ask, just sip again. someone in the kitchen laughs too loud. someone else trips on the rug and swears under their breath. here, in the den, it feels quieter. smaller. just the two of you — your knee nearly touching his now, your body turned toward him without even thinking about it.

your drink’s almost gone. he notices. “need a refill?” he offers, voice all honeyed charm now. you nod, too quickly, eyes bright. he takes the cup from your hand with a little smirk. “stay right here,” he says. “i’ll be right back.”

he moves through the kitchen with a calm that’s far too deliberate. people brush past him — laughing, shouting, spilling little drops of glittering liquid onto the tile. his fingers tighten slightly around the plastic cup. your cup. he doesn’t need to put anything in it. doesn’t need to force it. you’re already leaning in. already smiling, already tilting toward him like flowers stretch toward sunlight.

you just need one more drink. maybe two. enough to loosen you further, enough to peel back the little walls that sober you wears so politely.

he finds the half-empty bottle you left on the counter — cheap vodka with a citrus twist, already sweating in the warmth of too many bodies. he pours carefully, fills the cup just a little more than he should. adds the mixer — orange soda, too sweet, too fluorescent — and stirs it with the back of a plastic spoon.

his movements are precise, methodical. like he’s done this before. like he’s practiced. someone tries to talk to him, some guy he doesn’t know, doesn’t care to know, asking if he’s new here, if he came with someone. dex smiles. nods. says nothing. he’s already turning away before the guy finishes his sentence. you’re waiting.

when he steps back into the den you’re still there. sitting curled into the couch, legs tucked beneath you, drinkless and a little flushed. you glance up when you see him, and your smile stretches across your face like the lights strung behind you.

he holds out the cup like a peace offering. “as requested,” he smirks. “one dangerously unmeasured refill.” you take it from him without hesitation, fingers brushing his, no suspicion in your eyes.

“you trying to get me drunk?” you tease, raising an eyebrow as you take a sip. your voice is lighter now, playful. but you don’t stop drinking.

dex lets out a short laugh. “just trying to be fun enough for you, right?” you hum around the rim of the cup, then sip again, deeper this time. the buzz in your bloodstream is louder now. he can see it. the way your posture softens, the way your eyes linger longer on his mouth when he speaks. “so,” he says, voice low, conversational. “you throw parties like this often? or just when your friends need somewhere to spill drinks and ruin their shoes?”

you laugh again. you’re doing that more around him now. he files that away. your drink swirls lazily in your hand. “not really,” you admit, tilting your head, letting it rest against the back of the couch. “i’m not really... a party girl or whatever.” you make a vague gesture toward the crowd, nose wrinkling just slightly. “this isn’t really my scene. i’m just—” you pause, then smile, a little crooked.“my friend’s going through it. breakup. needed noise and a reason to wear too much eyeliner.”

dex already knew that.

of course he did. he saw the post two days ago— a bathroom mirror pic with your friend pouting and a caption like he didn’t deserve me anyway. he’d clocked the timeline, the comments, the playlist you posted that same night — sad girl summer with three ironic heart emojis.

but hearing you say it? hearing it in your voice, seeing the soft little twitch of sympathy on your face, the way you care for people who don’t even notice how tired you look when you host for their sake — it makes his jaw tighten behind the curve of his smile. that’s nice of you,” he leans in just slightly. “throwing a whole party for someone else. not a lot of people would do that.”

you shrug, sipping again, eyes flicking down to your lap. “i don’t mind. i like making people feel okay.” then, after a pause: “i guess i like when things are light, even if it’s not really for me.”

that hits him harder than he expects. he watches you fiddle with the edge of your cup. you don’t realize how much you’ve already said. how much you’ve given away. “people ever do that for you?” he asks. it’s casual, tossed out like small talk, but it lands heavy.

you blink. surprised, maybe. then smile again, but this one’s thinner. “not really,” you say after a second. “but it’s fine. i don’t really need that kind of thing.”

he hums. doesn’t say anything right away. lets the moment breathe. because this is the part he’s been waiting for. — when your voice goes softer. when your walls start to dip, just slightly, when the noise of the party becomes background and you forget, for just a moment, that you barely know him.

“well,” he responds, voice smooth now, low and certain, “you deserve that kind of thing.” his eyes stay locked on yours. no smile now — just honesty, or something that feels close to it. “someone should look out for you the way you look out for everyone else.”

you blink slowly at him, eyes a little heavy now, the edges of your thoughts all syrupy-sweet. his words settle into you like warmth, like something you didn’t know you were cold without. the way he’s looking at you — it’s not like the others.

“you’re tall,” you murmur, not quite accusing, but enough to wrinkle your nose a little. you lean your head further back against the couch to keep him in your line of sight. “it’s annoying. my neck’s gonna lock up.” he huffs a laugh, and there’s something else in it — something softer. something dangerous. he watches you blink at him, lazy and flushed, lips curved with amusement. “maybe you should sit down.” you add, your voice slipping into something half-teasing. you pat the empty spot beside you with a kind of innocent finality, like you’re making a perfectly reasonable request and not handing him exactly what he wants. “i’m not gonna yell across the room just to flirt with you.”

dex moves before the words fully register. controlled, like he’s done this a hundred times in a hundred different dreams. he sinks into the couch next to you — slow enough to seem effortless, close enough that your shoulders nearly brush. the cushion shifts beneath his weight. your drink wobbles a little in your hand, but you don’t move. he can smell your perfume from here now. soft and a little worn-in, like you sprayed it hours ago but it clung to your skin anyway.

“flirting?” he repeats, tilting his head just slightly toward you. his voice is still soft, still careful, but it’s edged now — sharp in a way that makes your skin prickle. “is that what this is?”

you shrug, sipping again, but your mouth twitches with a smile. “maybe. depends on if you’re good at it.” you’re drunk enough to say it without thinking. and maybe brave enough to mean it.

dex watches your lips wrap around the rim of the cup. he doesn’t blink. “i guess you’ll have to let me know.” he says. his knee bumps yours intentionally. then, after a beat — light, offhanded, but not really: “what about your friend?” he glances toward the hallway, toward the space the guy disappeared into earlier, soaked and sulking.

you snort. “him?” you wave a hand, dismissive. a little sloppier now. “he’s not my friend friend. he’s just someone who flirts like it’s his job.” you laugh again, that lazy tipsy sound, and lean a little closer, elbow brushing ben’s. “he always tries it when he’s drunk. it’s harmless.”

harmless.

the word sticks.

dex swallows the taste of it like something sour. harmless. like a mosquito. like background noise. like someone you don’t really see. he forces a smile. nods slowly. “mm,” he hums, “looked like more than harmless from where i was standing.”

you raise an eyebrow, amused. “jealous?”

you mean it like a joke. but dex just looks at you, gaze steady, unreadable for a second too long.

“should i be?”

he watches you process them in real time, your lips parting like a response was about to come out but stalled somewhere behind your teeth. you shift in your seat. not away from him — toward.

your knee presses into his now, not accidental this time. your body leans just slightly closer, like gravity’s tugging you into the shape of the moment. “i mean…” you blink, a slow flutter like you’re thinking it through. you smile, a little sideways. “only if you were trying to flirt with me first.” it’s teasing. but your voice is lower now, breathier.

dex feels it under his skin, feels it in that locked place behind his ribs where every part of him has been coiled since the second he saw you tonight. he hums. his eyes drag over your face. your lashes. your cheek flushed from the alcohol. “and if i was?”

it’s not really a question. it’s a challenge. a confession folded in silk. you breathe a laugh like it’s just for him.

your fingers twist the rim of your cup absently, but you don’t look away. “then maybe you’re doing okay,” you praise, eyes warm, a little hazy, “for a guy who showed up at my house with no name and suspiciously good timing.”

he lets the smile pull slow across his lips. not wide. not safe.

“dex.” he says, like it’s nothing. like it’s the most normal thing in the world. his voice dips with it, like the name itself carries weight. “and i don’t believe in accidents.”

you blink again. you laugh, but it's nervous now — barely there. and god, it’s pretty.

he leans back just slightly, but his gaze never breaks from yours. his hand rests on the couch between you — close. almost touching. you don’t move.

“your turn.” he says.

and you have no idea that he’s been waiting for it to finally be his.

started 4.25.2025. finished 4.25.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

[ohraicodoll]

Sooooo the museum flashback. You gonna bless us with a Red version? Cause I see her trying to help Joel set up the day but he takes control of it all and she just smiles and watches his love for Ellie pour out of him. Maybe even that night after they’ve come home tired from the day but faces aching from all the smiling, while her and Joel are wrapped in each other in bed he whisper asks her if he did good just like he asked Ellie?

😭😭 he’s literally just a sweet angel baby!!

awwwwwww this is precious. Idk how this ended up so long again but here we are!

Brief mentions of sex, but nothing explicit.

Gravity

The second birthday for Ellie was going to be better than the first. Joel had pledged it a year before, all of them only two months settled into Jackson and still new and trying to adjust. Things were quieter than on the road but felt shaky, chaotic even. 

Neither of them liked their own birthdays but they would make Ellie’s special.

It was that second birthday that she saw the kind of dad Joel had been and the deep level of love he had for his daughter- daughters now. She hadn’t met Sarah but him planning everything gave her a glimpse of how her birthdays would have gone. 

It started months before the actual day. They’d been going on one of their scouts, rifling through a travel center a day away when he’d come across a brochure. A tourist guide for the area with a picture of a dinosaur and museum slapped onto the cover. He had shouted for her like the building was on fire and she’d rushed around the corner, gun raised and adrenaline pumping only to see him waving it like a lost map. She would have smacked him for scaring her if he wasn’t so excited.

It had a whole planetarium and space exhibit with an actual shuttle inside, Apollo 15. And according to their maps, it wasn’t too too far from Jackson. Manageable. Able to reach it and be back the same day if they left early. She could read in the way his eyes lit up and lips quirked exactly what he was thinking about. Ellie would love it.

He started reading books on space and NASA, a far cry from his usual westerns that littered the bedside table. He would spout random facts about Apollo-something something, so much like Ellie, and would jot down little notes like he was studying for an exam. At night, with her head curled on his chest and fingers tracing patterns into her hip, he would ramble ideas and plans for all the things he wanted to do and prep. Sometimes she had to put his mouth to better uses.

It became very clear to her that this would be Joel’s project for Ellie, watching him take the lead and lay everything out with precision, settling back into an old role he was made for. It was beautiful to watch, especially for a man who was so guarded, the love that poured out of him for their new kid. 

She was just along for the ride, ready to help however she could.

They of course went and checked out the place ahead of time. Joel lit up seeing the dinosaur and wrote down notes on where to go, what to fix, and they made sure to clear out the place of anything harmful. He had to grease the orbiting planet model- the “orrery” Joel had corrected her as if he hadn’t read it off a goddamn plaque a minute before- and it took both of them to pry open the door of the shuttle. Everything sat untouched inside but they aired it out, years of stale air finally clearing out.

Leaning against the wall, she couldn’t help but grin as he leaned inward and rambled about how Ellie was going to go nuts with all the buttons and how he’d have her pick a helmet from the displays. He only stopped once he straightened up, turned, and his voice was swallowed into the kiss she pressed into his lips. It wasn’t soft, but it was full of a kind of reverence. Just like them. She wasn’t ashamed to have christened the floor in one of the rooms, clothes only half off and a gun nearby just in case. Joel was incredibly attractive when excited.

The tape was a whole thing. 

The museum had a ton of audio from different presentations and exhibits but there was no power to listen to any of it. Another trip resulted in a failed attempt to restore said power and another trip ended with them hauling back the equipment in an attempt to get it to work in Jackson. 

The radio tower got the switchboard working but then came the long process of going through every audio recording the entire museum had. Too many nights were spent, bored out of her mind and itching to go and do anything else than to spend more hours listening to facts about different prehistoric eras and space history. History and Science had not been her strong suit in school, having been focused on other things. She would sometimes pass out on the desk next to Joel, audio playing while he scrubbed through it, and would wake up with his jacket on her shoulders and bundled up flannel under her head while he kept going.

She damn near had a panic attack when he finally found the right one and fucking jumped up in his seat, too excited to sit still. The initiation launch for the Apollo played as she watched his frantic pacing, a grin on his face, and it kept playing even when she kissed him so hard they both hit the wall and dropped a few picture frames. 

They had sex in the radio room, groans swallowed into each other’s mouths and hands clinging to one another even as the crackle of old comms from a bygone era turned into silence. 

Joel traded repairing an entire porch in exchange for help from one of the radio assistants to copy the audio onto a cassette and she was in charge of finding a trade for Seth for Ellie’s birthday cake. Spelled right this time, she made sure to press, eyes glaring as she handed over a mostly intact box of crayons and stack of coloring books. He’d grunted and muttered that he preferred dealing with Joel over her.

Everyone did so that wasn’t anything new.

The night before Joel was practically vibrating with nerves while in bed, whispering the order of the plan over and over again like she was the one to forget. She sat up and straddled him, hearing his small grunt when she sat on his stomach and took his face in her hands, “Tex, she is going to love this even if it’s not perfect. Relax.”

“It’s just…sixteen is a big year for a kid, hell especially a teenager girl. I remember Sarah use to mention like a sweet sixteen party and I knew she would want one eventually but never wanted to make a big deal of it,” Joel chewed on the inside of his cheek, a small hitch in the rise and fall of his chest happening every time he mentioned his daughter, “I just want to make this a good one now that we’re here, y’know?”

“It’s going to be,” she whispered back, brushing fingers through his salt and pepper curls and leaning forward until their foreheads rested against each other, “You put too much work into this for it not to blow her mind.”

He closed his eyes and wrapped both arms around her waist, pulling her closer and clinging tightly like he was afraid she’d disappear if he loosened his grip. It was softer than their usual moments and seemed to mostly come in the darkness of the night when it was the two of them. 

She gripped him tighter, a feeling so big inside she felt like it was choking her. Swallowing, she kissed his temple right over the scar there and breathed out, “you’re a good dad, baby.”

Joel held her even harder and she knew she would have let him climb inside her ribcage if he asked.

Her cheeks hurt so much the next day from grinning. A slight amount of pain but something she’d gladly suffer again and again if she got to see all of Joel’s love and Ellie’s off the wall excitement again. Love was never absent of pain and they all knew that better than anyone.

Joel tried to play so nonchalant about the whole plan and that had her smiling and cackling alone, rolling her eyes at his cool demeanor in contrast to all the frantic planning he had done. Memories of days on the road, traveling amongst nature, were bright as all three of them walked down the trail with Ellie guessing idea after idea on where they were going. Joel’s hand was in hers and she felt lighter outside the walls of Jackson with the two people she loved most.

“Is it a lotter of kittens?”

“A lotter?”

“Jesus, Jackson teachers are really doing the bare minimum.” “You mean a litter?” Joel laughed out loud.

“A litter of kittens? Really?”

“Really. And no.”

“Ellie bean, we already have a kennel full of dogs. I don’t think we need to add kittens to the mix.”

And then both her and Ellie almost died laughing as Joel accused Ellie of having a crush on Jesse with such wrong confidence. The poor man didn’t even know why they were laughing.

When they got to the big reveal, they both promptly had heart attacks watching their kid immediately start climbing the giant dinosaur statue they hadn’t thought to test to make sure was sturdy enough. 

“I swear to god, kid, you better not die on your birthday!”

“Ellie! Oh my god. Careful!"

“I’m on a motherfucking dinosaur!” 

She had grinned and laughed, eyes moving from Ellie’s outstretched arms to the joy on Joel’s face. His eyes were bright, dark irises shifting hazel to brown in the flickering of the sunbeams and the little clearing full of her kid’s giggles and pointing at the museum. Watching them both was so painfully beautiful, seeing the beginnings of his plans fall into place, that all she could think was mine, mine, they’re mine. A protectiveness and love so big she wasn’t sure how her heart could stay in her chest. She wanted to dig claws into them and pull them close and away from the world, to keep them safe. At the same time, watching and seeing them be so free was its own need. 

For her, watching everything play out exactly as he had planned was the real gift. Ellie’s eyes were wide as saucers and love poured from every step Joel took behind her. They went place to place, dinosaur facts being read off plaques, buttons being pressed on everything, fake phone call conversations and jokes at Joel’s expense. A hat was grumpily placed on his head and he glared in disapproval, but it held no fire. When Ellie turned, she’d smiled and taken it off him, moving it to her own head before kissing away his pouty frown. It disappeared quickly and he thumped the rim, causing it to shadow over her face.

The hat quickly found its way onto a dinosaur and they all agreed that was its proper home.

The stars in the hallway glistened around them as they walked to the planetarium, the whispered voices of their bickering wrapping around her. Her own fingers trailed along the wall, the little lights blink out under her skin. 

His hand found hers in the dark, pulling her along, making sure she stayed side by side and that she wasn’t alone. She wanted to tell him they were like gravity and she would be drawn to them no matter the distance, but instead she squeezed reassuringly in response. 

Ellie played with the orrery and she rolled her eyes at Joel’s casual comment about someone greasing it as if they hadn’t argued and struggled for hours to get the thing apart to do maintenance on it. 

“Can you imagine being up there?”

His eyes briefly flickered to hers and then went back to watching Ellie, the same cool composed tone painting his voice, “Would you like to?”

“Like to what?”

“Go to space?” 

She didn’t think she would ever see Ellie speechless. But as she looked back at her, watching her taken in the literal spaceship in the room with eyes wide as the planets themselves as Joel explained that it had been in actual space, that’s what she was. Speechless. Because Joel had done this all for her. Made literal dreams come true. 

That night forever ago, in front of the fire with the cold all around them, she’d said she wanted to go to the moon after finding the Fireflies and Joel wanted to raise sheep. 

In a way, Joel had achieved that. Now Ellie was too.

Having them both here was hers coming true.

The cherry on top of the trip was that Ellie got to cause destruction. She winced as the glass shattered on one of the displays housing the astronaut outfits, wanting to fret that the kid should make sure no glass was in the helmet before shoving it on but giving up. Her eyes and grin were huge behind the dome of it and she couldn’t help giggling as she moved to the shuttle.

“How’s it smell in there?”

“Like space. And dust.”

“Well, good. Then you’re ready.”

She knew the inside was tight. It was made for two people primarily so when Ellie climbed in and Joel reached for her, she shook her head, “You two go. It’s small and I’ll wait out here back on Earth.” “Nah, come on,” his brow furrowed and he beckoned her closer, “You too. We’ll make it work.”

She shook her head but Ellie popped up, breath fogging up the glass and shouts muffled by the helmet, “Get your butt in here! We’re all fucking going to space! I’m not leaving you behind!”

Joel smirked and with a raised brow, waved his hand towards her again, “You heard the birthday girl. Come on, sweetheart.” 

Wanted. She felt wanted and of all moments, that’s when she could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes and the tight grip around her heart. Both of them looked at her expectantly and it was the same as when Joel would hold her close in the dark at night like he could never let her go or when Ellie would hug her and whisper “mom” against her shirt. 

How could she ever deny the two of them.

It was a tight fit, but they did make it work. Joel and her shared a seat with her half draped over him, snug but comfy. Ellie, in fact, did go nuts on all the buttons like they predicted while making her own sound effects. She silently watched as Joel gave over the cassette with a soft “Happy birthday, kiddo” and told her to close her eyes. 

His heart sped up under her cheek when Ellie looked at him excitedly with huge eyes, them both knowing the initiation was starting and she was realizing exactly what it was. 

All those days and nights of prepping her birthday filled the silence around them as she closed her eyes and listened. Every moment of frustration, of listening to hours of museum presentations, of lugging equipment and making the journey back and forth. All of it was worth this one moment. Ellie going to space and them in her orbit.

She felt a tear soak into Joel’s shirt underneath her and she looked up at him, whispering, “She loves it.”

His lips were pressed tight together and he looked down at her, unable to speak but gave a shaky nod as he kissed her forehead. 

The tape was short. So much work for so little audio but it had been so important. 

When Ellie’s eyes opened again and she looked at them, Joel almost bashfully asked, “I do okay?” 

Because it was her approval he needed. It had all been for her. In that one question was all the love Joel had poured into this day and he was still unsure, afraid he had failed. 

And Ellie’s answer was everything, “Are you kidding me?”

Because he saw her. Saw what she loved and who she was and gave her the moon -or literal spaceship- on a platter simply because she dreamed of it. It was an impossibility that Joel could fail because being a dad was at the very core of his being. He would work hours and hours to give them whatever they wanted and it broke her a little to think he still didn’t think it was enough.

They stayed in their little bubble for a while, taking in the silence of being together in the happiness of the moment. 

When they got out, Joel handed Ellie a small spaceship pin with a whispered, “Welcome back to Earth.” 

She helped her pin it to the girl’s bag and then reached down, grabbing a rock and scribbling into the ground, “Apollo 15, 2024, Astronaut Ellie Williams.” Ellie’s grin was wide as she set her helmet down beside it. A small shrine to their day. 

The day ended in a comfortable quietness, the events settling down around them in a content warmth. They made it home, Ellie yawning but making it through dinner that Maria had made for them and left on the counter, and a huge chunk of cake. Thankfully, Seth had spelled everything right this time. 

The domesticity of it all for once didn’t feel suffocating. Back inside the walls of Jackson didn’t press on her and she let herself imagine that there was no outbreak. Ellie wasn’t an immune kid they had traveled across the country with, she was their daughter that had turned sixteen who they’d taken on a museum trip for her birthday. 

It was all so normal but at the same time, it was almost more beautiful that it wasn’t. Because Joel had made the impossible happen in a world that was broken. 

After Ellie had passed out in her room, she sat on the couch with her legs curled up. Joel was still walking around tidying up, putting the dishes away and cake in the fridge. When he walked around the couch she reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks. It didn’t take much to pull him down beside her, all the activity and walking of the day having him sink into the cushions with a groan. Like gravity, he pulled her in and draped her bare legs across his lap and hugged her close.

His thumb traced a pattern on her thigh and she closed her eyes when he breathed in her hair, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. 

“Think she liked it all?” he whispered, uncertainty cracking the quietness of his voice. He was always so sure of himself but it was his moments of love, of vulnerability that had nothing to do with safety or work or survival that sometimes made him doubt. He was a protector first and foremost, everything else took effort. 

She was the same way. She showed her love through violence, through taking care of them and keeping them safe. By doing whatever she had to do, even if the cost was the shreds of her soul she had left. That’s what she could do for them. Gentleness was new. 

The world wasn’t quite made for that anymore but they were both doing their best. For Ellie.

So she looked up at him and caressed his cheek, smiling achingly soft at him, “You did perfect, Joel.”

He kissed her and when she felt a tear trailing over her fingertips, she only kissed him back harder in return. _______________________

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[chlmtsdoll]

I NEED YOUR LOVE

born to be seen part two | part one

☆ word count: 8.4k ;)

☆ warnings: 18+++, smut !, p in v (unprotected) sex, teasing, oral (f) receiving, creampie, heavy edging, pet names, hair pulling, like everything under the sun of filth, mild choking, obsession/worship, angst, (tooth achingly sweet) fluff !, lots of plot and porn, reader is a brat, dom-ish Timothee, for my horny and touch starved girls <3

☆ A/N: I’m sooo sorry I literally took a million years to upload guys !!!!! My life is insane (positive) lol.

You were tangled up in the lush comforter of your suites bed by the time morning came around, or more like afternoon.

The daylight through the drapes was creeping in, bedsheets all over the place from your crazy night of.. cuddling till the two of you passed out. When you got back to your room in a rush to make love till the sun came up — there was nothing more than making out till Timothee drifted off into his dreams on your shoulder. And you couldn’t blame him at all.

So much intensity of all the hard work he’s been putting into his press run, promotion, making the world fall in love with him — you could respect that he was beat.

So now even as you’d been already arisen, Timmy was on his side fast asleep in the vast option of plush pillows he was buried in. You were hungry, but not hungry enough to call room service, and kind of sleepy as well, but not sleepy enough to go back asleep, so you were lounging, resting your head on your boyfriends back as you lie there cuddled up and scrolling online until he decided to wake up.

Your social media was pretty much filled mostly of clothes, makeup, and if not that, than occasionally your boyfriend’s pretty face on your screen chatting away about his movie — probably posted by ET, or Vanity Fair, Vogue. With a caption clearly hinting to how much they adore his masterful way of show casing his personality. Or his ever changing fashion sense, Till suddenly, you see your face too.

An edit of you both at Paris fashion week that happened the other weekend, your public affection fully on display. Your eyes widen and your lips start to curl upwards.

You watched yourself with your man front row as you were seen adjusting his chain when you thought no one noticed. Or rubbing his back nonchalantly with care — all the way till clips of him pulling you into his lap after a show and stealing a kiss were cut into montages to audios that made the best of your skin rise in temperature.

You still weren’t fully used to the attention you both got when it came to your relationship being viewed publicly, but damn, you’re hot.

Even in the dimly lit moment, you could see the soft grin on Timothee’s face when he eyes you. Leaning in a way that says he’s paying attention to the models walking right ahead, but his mind focused on what you had on. Something with a dipped neckline and striking rings on your fingers along with his. And right after, they’d almost always catch the kisses he would give you. Not being able to help himself.

You were blushing right now. Naturally toying with the lace around your bra as you half smile behind your bitten lip at the way your man is seen adoring you, when so little had been on you two in that crowd — the smile you show cased when he pushed a few locks of hair to one side, just to rub a thumb against your neck had you kicking at your own life. You truthfully always think that in the heat of the moment, no one cares or is paying attention to the two of you. Your just in your own world. You and Timothée. Nothing else as important — and neither were you, because you both were just like that. But of course a fan caught it.

“Timmy,” you say quietly, but with a soft giggle as you nudge him out of his slumber, “Timothée, look at this.” He was only groaning and trying to ignore you, but he was certainly waking up due to your knee in an awkward position to his back.

“Mmm- - no. Baby.. it’s way too early,”

“It’s a eleven pm.” You topple over him to shove your phone in his face, he has to see how cute you guys look. And this would be to his surprise since he didn’t want to see too much of what’s on the internet featuring him anyways.

“We’re adorable,” your smile was cheeky, and Timothee opened a eye to view with you. Watching a time when he’d had his hands on your waist, pulling you in tighter to whisper in your ear and your already blushing again. “What did you say to me there ?”

“Don’t remember,” his voice deep and rasping with sleep as he turns over to his back. “But damn… I do look good though.”

You roll your eyes playfully, and lean up so you could straddle his torso, “you’re gross.” You chuckle, words direct and with annoyance, but you hold a dazed little smile as you peer down at him. Pretty with his bed head this morning, and looking up at you with a soft smile and a mixture of blue with his green in the low light. His white tank thin enough just so you can feel the pecks of his chest nicely.

“Gross, but you’re on top of me. Makes perfect sense, doll.”He slides his hands just under his head and you laugh, taking a light slap to his cheek but your hand staying there to reap the benefits of his gentle dimples. Feeling the light stubble dusting his jaw. You’re so focused on the way he looks right now. Heavenly and all amenable just for you.

You missed this.

Leaning down a bit, you stay just a couple inches from his lips with a sly smile. “I kinda like watching us like that…”

Timmy chuckles, and his eyes flicker to your lips, “Yeah ? You wanna add it to our routine?” Your grin held as you nod till desperately melting into his lips with a soft sound of relief leaving you. He pressed kisses to your lips, your jaw, and back to your lips with a hum — you were smiling into it. So sweet yet carefully seductive as you hover and arch against his abs, making him reach a hand above and grip at your waist, as the other palms your ass at the same time — it made you giggle into the kisses, moving your hips a little more on top of him, and he felt good enough to give you another squeeze.

“This- - looked amazing in those videos, y’know..” Your boyfriend sighed against your mouth with a cocky grin, you titter before leaning up, leaving a echoing smooch as you do so. “I know how to make it look even better for you..” even with such bold words, your girlish smile held an innocent flair as you felt Timothee get hard underneath you. His sweats not hiding a thing. And all you had on were your panties that were more of a thong, so you could feel the tent immediately. He licked over his lips and observed as your grin goes from ethereal and dreamy to minx.

His fingers bore into the skin of your thighs, your waist. Feeling, rubbing. Sliding upwards, his touch smooth like butter to your skin. With one little glint in your eye and growing smirk, you reach behind yourself to undo your bra, letting your hair fall out of the way as it slips down your arms, your tits nearly begging for his touch too. Timmy was watching you, hooded eyes on your every move because you make it too easy to forget all other thoughts in his head when you looks this edible. A total treat he woke up to.

You were switching positions on him now. You turned around, keeping your knees apart right over his pelvis to sit, but not exactly, just hovering, so your ass was on full display over his bulge. And you removed your hair just grazing your tail bone so he can press his thumbs into the arch of your lower back just as he always does when you ride him. “Hell yeah..” your boyfriend uttered a soft grumble from behind and you smile to yourself. You know it drives him crazy when you take your time.

Your glorious hips do all the work as you lean forward, just enough so you can watch his reaction to the way you grind against him with rhythm — but stiflingly slow, letting a tiny but mellowing moan escape you as you can feel the twitch of his cock against your cunt. Making the outline stand out more through his boxers, and you grew slick.

“Hmm, so needy fresh out the bed, huh ?” His tone ponders even as he slides his index finger up and down your thong in a teasing manner, to squeezing your ass again, trying to maneuver you sitting completely on top of him, and not just teasing. Your boyfriend not hesitant to feel the warmth of the dampness you held, and you giggle, because you know he loves this. Getting to play with you, having you to himself, the dip in the arch of your back. How the panties he most likely got for you sits against your shape, how the lips of your heat hug his cock as you rock against him. Just getting a pre-show before he can fuck you silly.

And you loved this. Getting him. Feeling him on you, the look in his eyes when you move exactly how he wants, doing what he likes and how he likes it. Teasing him until he breaks.

“You’re so hard, Timmy.. and it’s not even noon,” You eye him over your shoulder with a hungry kind of smirk, but one that shows you know what your doing — slowly sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you reach a hand down to lift the hem on his boxers beneath you. Pulling out his cock, so delicious looking you could salivate. You bite your lip a little harder and give him a light stroke before looking over your shoulder to keep his reaction in mind, a low groan that pushed him to lick over his lip.

“Slide me in like a good girl..” Timothee breathes out, motioning to your acts between the two of you meeting where you need most — finally. You came here to not only support, but be entirely intertwined to him. And you haven’t even gotten to fuck your own boyfriend yet.

As his hands were gripping your hips, he pushes you up a little. The lips of your pussy slide against the tip of his dick and your sounds are heavenly just from that. Making it worth the wait, the effort, you adjust yourself so your sitting just right so he can watch as you take him, and oh, was he.

Till the bothersome ring of Timothee’s phone buzzing on the nightstand stole your attention.

His eyes flutter shut in pure annoyance, “I swear to fucking god- - if that’s Brian..”

You look over at his cell with the name reading clear, “It is.”

Timmy groans along with a curse as you fall back to sitting next to him. Rolling out of the bed, frustrated mentally and sexually, he picks up his phone and you watch as he answers while running a hand through his tussled hair.

And even being annoyed as you also were — you only sat patiently waiting from him to give you a look of reassurance. One telling your morning together didn’t have to come to a halt yet, but instead you watch as your man goes from pinching he bridging of his nose to blunt urgency.

“Shh- it. Shit !” Timothee spits before eying the nearest bunch of his clothes and grabbing them quickly before running to the bathroom. “Yeah- - yeah, no I didn’t forget, I remembered and I’m on the way there. Literally in the car now.” He comes back out of that bathroom with his toothbrush hanging from the side of his mouth, stumbling to get his pants on.

“What happened ?” You question, watching him rush to get his shit together as you get out of bed.

“There’s a meeting I totally forgot about, and everyone’s gonna be waiting for me in like- - twenty minutes. Fuck… I’m sorry, baby.” Your boyfriends tone and expression differs apologetically, as he continues to scramble for his hoodie and you only follow him around the room.

“That’s okay. Can I come with ?” Your attaching yourself to him again. Hugging his side and completely ignoring his actions the second he mentions being out the door.

“You’re not gonna wanna come baby, it’ll be boring. And there’s no way I’ll be able to pay attention with you there..”

He stops for a second to eye you down. You’re in nothing but your underwear and looking this pretty. Clinging to him when he literally has to leave is his personal hell.

You smile and bat your eyelashes a bit anyways.

“Do I distract you ?” Your biting your lip in that way again. Inching upwards to steal a kiss. Timothee’s management is lucky he’s a hard working man, because after leaning in for more he has to force himself to get the rest of his things. Keep his touch off of you.

He sighs in reply, “You have no idea.”

You have a sly but proud smile on your face even as he pulls away with a hand lingering on your hip, and of course, you follow after him. Wrapping your arms over his back that’s now hunched as he’s tying his shoes.

“I don’t want you to go, I already miss you, Timmy.”

“Princess, it’s just a couple hours.”

You whine, emotions are heightening as you take in the longing for his absence already— I mean, you just got here.

“But I came here to see you, and I feel like I’ve hardly seen you. Unless it’s on my phone really, which I don’t mind- -but.. I wanna be here.. and kiss you, and stare at you in person, freely, without a time frame and-”

“Hey, guess what?” Timothee looks up at you.

“What?” Your smile has returned immediately.

“I booked a nail appointment for you at two. So you’ll be there, full spa and everything getting all that treatment you deserve, pampered- - hopefully the long set that you know I adore,” timothee runs a thumb against your chin with a soft smile and you blush, giggling, “that you won’t even remember I’m gone,”

Your expression lifts to a pure glow, him doing something so thoughtful for you made your heart thump. You were attacking him with kisses instantly.

“Really ? You did that for me ? You’re so sweet ! Oh, my god I was just adding inspo to my Pinterest.. were you watching me ? You stalker.” Your cheerful mumbling was like music to his ears, Timmy chuckled as he stood up, with you still holding on to him. He leans in to kiss your lips for a sweet little confirmation that you always have his attention. Then he was leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you. I’ll be back soon,” your man escapes your grasps like that. He gives you a soft smile, slipping through the door, “Behave.” He mentions lastly with a grin before leaving you rolling your eyes but stuck there smiling like an idiot.

You were just like most girls, obsessed with being pampered down and taken care of aesthetically, especially when your man had not only been paying but making all your special appointments for you. It was any girls dream to be sitting in a high end salon chair, getting her palms rubbed down in essential oils while having her movie star boyfriend as her literal emergency contact.

And that was it, even as you got to pick out your favorite color, your nails clean and pretty — all you could think about was getting to see Timmy again.

When your phone did light up with a attentive text from him reading, ‘Tomorrow I’m all yours.’ As you wait for your manicure to dry, you were blushing down. Eager to text him back once your hands were free from the filing and drilling. And on your way out to meet your driver you did,

I’m allll done <3

What color did you get

Guess

Pink

Fuck off

I know my girl

Your smiling at your phone like crazy.

☆

That next afternoon, the one Timothee gave you his vow that you’d have his undivided attention, was his one and only relax day for the rest of the week before more scheduled premieres and press conferences.

So you were ready to spend the day left alone with your boyfriend. To never have to leave his eye line if you didn’t want to. His phone on silent. Definitely no mention of Brian. And his hand likely on your thigh at some majestic restaurant by the shore along with a bottle of wine for christ sake.

But, to your misfortune, fate had other plans.

The sun was just rising when you were mid make out with Timmy. In the comfort of your suite, tucked under the covers of the sheets once again. And although he’d already been dressed and ready for the day, he let you sleep in. He didn’t want a single worry in your head waking up that morning, and you just sat pretty while you got to watch him get ready with a loving smile.

It was all perfectly set, before you two had been abruptly interrupted when a surprise visit from Timothee’s closest friends were knocking at your door.

Your boyfriend was ecstatic to see them, and of course you didn’t mind them hanging for a bit because you knew it’d make him happy to see his buddies before a whirlwind of an awards season. It was good for his mental grounding and you assumed it would probably be a small fraction of time you had today, it surely wouldn’t dismiss any plans your man had for you both.

Or so you thought.

His friends hadn’t been done dapping the actor up and making him feel extremely proud of his hard work over these last couple of months pushing promo like crazy, but also just at home with some light teasing of course before unfortunately, you observe as they brought along with them the only other thing besides you, to have Timothee in a complete chokehold.

Your sword enemy. A nightmare. His PlayStation.

It wasn’t soon at all until it was you sitting on that bed, only moments away from becoming worlds most patient girlfriend. Almost.

Even the elegance of that hotel room got real male dominant in the short but close cut time as Timothee and his friends made the area some battlefield or whatever the hell they’d been playing.

The sounds of laughter and chatter along with yelling of way too many swears and code for things you had no idea what meant, could be heard from the living area of the suite that hosted a flat screen tv. You made yourself a cup of tea, and as you glance towards the space. Timothee was sitting between two of his friends, a hoodie left on him as he disregarded the leather jacket he had over it from earlier. His cargo pants bunched at the bottom of his ankles as he slouched back, man spread, with a controller in his hands that were moving at a calm pace while they rested in his lap, but his fingers shift with determination to probably shut down his friends from getting ahead of him in the game like he always had to do. A show off of his skills. His hair was slightly disheveled but supporting his soft curls, just slightly curving into his focused furrowed brow. He was as locked in as ever to the violent scenes and unnecessarily loud explosive noises coming from that screen.

As totally downplayed and out of the normal glamour from the usual appearance of the actor, your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in a needy manner. A wave of prurience takes over your body at the sight.

It was so normal, but of course he looks amazing. He always looks fucking amazing.

Your sitting just behind the boys on the duvet as you scroll on your phone yet occasionally view what had been all their talk — sports, sports, video games, strategy, more video games, sports. It was all jumbled into chatter of nonsense to your ears. You could give less a damn. You’re bored. And you want your man.

Your phone gets tossed to the edge of the bed as you let out a huff of air and fold your arms impatiently. Legs tucked under you comfortably but your ease at it’s most uncomfortable — there was a small bowl of strawberries topped with cream sitting besides you that Timmy ordered you for breakfast. You’ve hardly touched it because as sweet as it was that he made sure to bring up your favorite before noon dish, one round of the game turned to three, than four. And now it’s been two hours since he’s as much as glimpsed your way.

It was totally unfair. You looking this pretty, left aside to stare at your fresh set of nails in boredom. You had to do something.

“Timothee?”

“Yes, mon amour?” He answers still laser focused.

“I’m hungry. What happened to the rest of the food you ordered?”

“Oh.. shit, yeah. Hold up,” he had mentioned to the guys before leaving his controller where he sat to stride over to where you sat, he crawled over the covers to get to where the phone was just beside you.

As he’s leaning over your lap to buzz the front desk, you breathe in his sent, his smooth cologne. His chain was dangling over your lap and you suck in your lip again. The position had your mind conjuring up a couple of ideas right now. His perfect lashes hover his green as he waits for them to pick up. You smile and let your body absorb the heat of just him being near you again. Close. Like you’d get a hit off of just that when his palm pressed into the pillow beside you, deepening your mold to it. You start to grin, you don’t know how to act when he looked this sexy.

You lean into the crook of his neck and leave a playful kiss there, then watch his reaction as a small smirk grows on his lips. Making his mustache do that thing you love. Your smile was devious. He glances at your soft rose gold slip against your thigh that was noticeably peaking out from under your robe underneath him. He speaks to whoever picked up, “okay… alright, thanks.” He puts the phone back down in it’s holder. “Like ten minutes-ish. Okay ?” Timmy gives your cheek a quick smooch before he’s off of you again and your eyebrows drop with a pout.

You were getting impatient and the blood rushing towards your heat was undeniable from the feeling of Timothee near. You weren’t gonna just sit this through. You stand, entering the area where he and all his friends are hunched around the tv, sat without a ounce of attention to your appearance — you just stepped over the crowd of long legs to glide next to where your man sat against the couch.

He was already so wound back into the game, that when you took it upon yourself to sit in his lap, he only cradled you in out of habit, then returned to the controller in this hands. Without taking his eyes off the screen for a second,“Came to watch me win?” He utters before kissing your forehead and you smile before leaning it against his shoulder. And you did watch. The tv screen, playing out events that made your brow dip with uncertainty.

The boys were shouting threats at one another as they play, Timmy would just laugh or join in hear and there. You held up with just the sound of hearing him chuckle with his chest, making a adjustment underneath you so you were snuggled close while you watch him play — that made your stomach fill up with butterflies and do little flips. He was in it but still with you at least. You peered at the multiple silver rings around his fingers as they take a go on buttons and swivels. He holds the controller on your thighs, your lips curve with a grin as you sit up a bit to peck his cheek.

“Why are you obsessed with this stupid game?”

“Why are you obsessed with me?” Timmy replies to you with a snarky grin and you gasps a little before taking a slap against his arm. He has no reaction whatsoever. You then tuck your hand under his chin gently, harmless smile on your lips as you go in to place a kiss on him now. Your boyfriend only tries to keep eyeing the screen as you lay more smooches on him.

You won’t quit now when your this close.

You steal another kiss. Then another. Trying your best to lore his attention away, but he’s too busy tightening his grip on his controller, locking his jaw and lifting his chin to see around you, he most likely got some kind of set back in the game. You couldn’t give less a damn what was happening on that screen but you figured by the small “fuck” he grunted after you blocked his view.

Your eyebrows dip, a uproar of an attitude was apparent on your lips now as you look from the screen, Timothee’s friends, back to him. He just wasn’t budging at all.

It’s been weeks since you two have really been alone together, and he couldn’t of forgotten how much of a brat you could be. Especially when you hadn’t gotten your way not once these last few days. So the only thing left to do was to take it up a notch.

You switch gears from sitting in Timmy’s lap, to getting on top of it. Your thigh going over to the other side of his hip and your legs part nicely just for him to fit. Your position mirroring earlier and you knew his weakness was always you on top of him, there’s no way he wouldn’t lose it now. Not when you’d been peppering kisses along his jaw, slow yet playful. “Baby, baby, baby…” he stuttered, still shifting underneath you like your affection was irrelevant, trying to slightly maneuver you aside from blocking his view. But your new found position also had him fumbling to keep his grip on that controller, they naturally went to hold your waist. He could no longer keep his eyes completely glued to that tv even as much as he wanted with how you’d ignored his gentle readjusting you, and kept gliding your lips over his neck. His was jaw clenched tight.

“You can’t ignore me forever..” you purr softly so only he could hear, locking your hips in his lap and you could nearly feel his chest heaving increase. You get his attention now, he glances at you, eyes darkened and full of something dangerous. He lays a hand around your back side, just squeezing slowly at first , but then enough to make you still your movement quick, “you’re being a brat.. don’t test me.” He mirrors your tone ; but with more bite.

That got your panties wetter by the second.

Though it was no surprise now. Not with the way you’d been arching your spine, thighs trapping him in and sucking on your man’s skin with a possessive kind of urge. He tried to play it cool, like he wasn’t squeezing your upper thigh in definite warning — which didn’t phase you. The sting only made your thoughts of him pounding you into that bed increase. You hear a friend or two from beside him chuckle a small ‘damn.. man,’ to him as you’d been at work. You looked too delectable. If Timmy knew anything it was that you had the subtle but huge temptation to get a man weak in the knees, and even more so showing out like this in basically your underwear and in your boyfriend’s lap. He started to pick up on the way they were less likely to be only into that video game now. And Timothee only grew pissed.

‘You need to handle that, bro..’ another friend mentions. He was surely struggling to handle you. Which put pride to your actions, the perfect contrast to your already frustrated boyfriend who’s now losing in his game, and also his control. You can’t help but stroke your thumb across his pretty, yet annoyed, expression at your actions that were far from okay. Along with his hidden but precise blush, he knows your playing with him even more strategically than he was playing that game.

He shakes his head and your grinning against his ear, in a soft murmur, “I’m not wearing any.” Was all you had to say and that was a wrap on his hang out. He finally breaks.

Timothee was jumping up to tell his friends how much fun it was to have their company, but they needed to get the fuck out.

That made you run a finger across your smirk, not minding at all the way he practically tossed you off of his lap to get the boys up and out, because attending to you could no longer wait. And you knew you were probably not even prepared for what’s to come now that you’ve made him nearly get a hard on in front of his friends. That’s if you didn’t succeed. You just keep pushing because, fuck, you were so sexually enraged and getting your boyfriend riled up was almost too easy.. sexy…

And fun.

You could see it in the way he gave his friends a warm but rushed goodbye, with hard back pats but half hugs and it made you titter to yourself slyly while you observe — but your glee only lasted but so long when Timothee shut the door. The sound of him locking it echos hard before he’s turning to place his eyes on you. You’re sitting up a little straighter with an unfazed kind of tint to your eyes, daring to even move an inch not knowing what he could pull. But your boyfriend was far more serious, he briefly looks at the time on his watch before gliding over to where you sit and going in for your wrists to pin them straight to that couch.

You’d been a mess with a mixture of giggles and soft gasps and Timothee tugs and fights with the belt of your robe to get it undone from your hips at lightning speed, not even bothering to get your knees out of the way when he does get it off of you, and his hand strikes up your silk slip, he lets out a deep sigh of relief when he’s not met by the sight of you pantie-less.

You burst into laughter beyond him.

“You- - sneaky, sneaky little minx. I mean fuck.. Honestly,” your boyfriend spits at the sheer humiliation of what you’d done to have him fed up and on top of you all for your own entertainment. Thinking about how much the thought of you bare and while his friends were around made his blood boil. You’re giggling and he’s rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You think this is funny?” Timothee peers down at you, not amused at all. But your laughter dials down as you softly bite the tip of your finger to ponder for a second, followed with a little know-it-all nod.

“Yeah. I do.” your grin was starting to come back and Timmy had looked off to scoff at your antics, only cheesing out of imagination for what could happen in the next thirty seconds.

“I shouldn’t even touch you, y’know… you’re a greedy girl,”

Your eyes do the smiling for you as you take in the way his curls fall against his face while he talks with a frowsy husk in his voice right now.

“Yeah ? Am I too much for you, baby?” You pronounced so sweet on the end, smile innocent — but the look in your eye’s gleamed with filth. And Timothee only put either of his palms by where your head rests. He lowers himself,

“You are…. Irresistible,” he mutters as he goes in to leave a kiss on the top of your chest, soft but one that was devoted. And your stomach flips instantly, you watch him with wide eyes, “and- - a bad girl,” he moves to peck the right of your neck, “a tempting, irresistible, pain in my ass,”he moves to the left and your eyes shut as you let out a giggle, “naughty.. naughty girl.” Timothee finishes with a grin and smooch on your jaw just as his green orbs meet yours.

You always made it very clear in your relationship thus far, that the sound of just his voice alone got your toes curling with need. So the best build up to any climax was just listening, hearing and leaning into his word. He knows it, and he edges it like an oath,

“I mean.. you’ve got it all. Flying out here to see me, looking beautiful as ever in that dress the other night.. driving me insane in the mornings when your looking hot as fuck and I have to leave in ten minutes,” he was kissing you, rubbing you down, and you nod with a soft dazed smile as his hands find yours, “this pretty.. and sexy set you got done yesterday,” he kisses your knuckles and his thumb brushes against your pink nails while you can’t help but let out a string of giggles when he finds that balance of sultry and playfulness with you.

“Yet… you’re acting out like this ? Making a scene in front of my homeboy’s.. and all I get is attitude ?” he comments with a tsk kind of tone, eyebrows furrowed suddenly like you stabbed him. Which is why you only whine and you pull him in closer by the neck. Your lips collided. Your kissing him with want, not letting go without ache, making him stay. Stay right where you want him.

He groans a little into your breath, genuinely taken by the shift in your behavior, “what is it, mon cherie ?.. what do you want ? Tell me what you want..” he murmurs even against your swollen lips and you look up at him like he’s the stars, the moon, the entire galaxy around you. All you want all the time, and your life line at the end of every day.

But then you roll your eyes. Because he’s also an idiot.

“You.” Your tone direct and your eyes lost in his now, “ I want you.”

“But you have me, baby..”

“No. All of you,” your eyes are stuck on his, even as you sit up and push on his chest so he’s lounged against the arm rest of the couch, you climbing to get all close again.

“Mhm… and how do you want that ?” Timothee rasps as he notices the trickle of your fingers running up and down his hoodie. You wasted no time to subtlety get your hand underneath it, feeling up his abs, the smooth texture of his skin as you rest over him with a soft lip bite,

“Like.. where we were earlier. Slow, but not for too long.. just right, because I wanna feel you. Inside of me. And deep. So deep, Timmy.”

Your sweet but sultry voice was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand as your touch is dangerously close to his waistband, and he sucks in his breath as he eyes your lips edging his.

“…And what else ?”

You slowly reveal a smirk, “I wanna be screaming your name. Having it pouring from my lips as you’re going back to back on me… want it to be loud, like.. lobby concerning.”

That tent in his cargo’s is back again.

“Mhmm… and screaming who’s name, baby?”

“Yours Timmy, the only one. Your my man.” You giggle a bit as you kiss his lips and your free hand finds his cheek.

“That’s right.” He kisses you back with a very satisfied grin,“And- - what else, princess?”

You sighed a little as your hand hiked up his hoodie completely to yourself and you lick over your lips at the pain sight of his glorious pecks,

“I need you, to make me cum.. endlessly, on your cock till I’m sore. Till I’m feeling you even in the morning, and- and I feel you for the rest of the day. Your cock. Your cum. You.” Your tone is getting more desperate by the second as your thighs shift a little and your bottom lip quivers at the way Timmy’s tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip and gently place his hands on your waist once again. You almost moan.

“That sounds real good, baby.” He smiles,

“Yeah ?”

“Yeah.. why don’t we start by settling your little scandal in front of my friends. You, uh- - wanna make it up to me, princess?”

Your nodding immediately. But it must not have been quick enough, because without another confirmation from you, Timothee grabs you by the ass to bend over the couch and your hands brace arm rest of where he’d been as you let out a quickly hushed little gasps. Your boyfriend tugged down your panties, sliding them down just enough to have your parts on display. Your lips were slightly agape as you watch him use his large hand to slide between your thighs, spreading them as delicately as butter in his hands.

“Spread yourself nice and wide for me, mon amour,” his breathing husked as the pads of his fingers meet the folds of your pussy.

He wasn’t surprised to find you dripping.

“Mmm- - oh,” your head falls to the arm rest as your getting split open by your boyfriend’s digits carefully, the silver of his carrier ringers cold as they dip into your heat like it was home. And how it was a perfect fit. He’s cursing softly, lips parted as he watches the way you pulse around him, taking the curve of his fingers pushing and pulling at a pace that had your knees going weak, a small “fuck” purring from you now. Timmy bends so he’s kissing where he plays with where your soaking his hand. His lips part and a his tongue swipes a bold stripe up your cunt. He’s using both of his hands to spread you as wide as he can all while his face is in your cunt, licking and placing kisses there, taking a nibble of your ass with a groan like he just can’t help himself.

Your already practically high off getting to watch him devour you from above, grinning, “you're obsessed,” you say in a giggly tone and instead of replying he squeezes your ass more followed up with a smack that has you gripping the couch and sending your eyes shut with a whimper.

Timothee sucks on your clit, to where your throbbing eloquently as much as you let him, which is as much as he takes. Because that’s how he likes you. Soft, and pretty, and your cunt dripping for him at the drop of a dime. His fingers, wet from your slick are now trailing up your spine as you moan and shake on the bridge of his nose while he continues to flicks his tongue from your folds to over your opening, dipping inside you with a prideful groan and you managing to not bite your wrist as your bottom lip trembles.

You never know his next move, and you were unaware when Timothee leans up kneel into the couch and peer down at you. The sudden trace of his thumb against your lips had you letting out a desperate little sigh and leaning into the way it circled your mouth so gently you could die. You’re letting out a sweet little chuckle as his fingers edge the bottom of your chin and your tongue darts out to brush against his digit. He’s watching you taste a bit of yourself and you playfully press your ass into his crotch that was packing on his very observant hard on.

Timmy presses between your lips. Sliding against your tongue till his thumbs resting in your mouth. You moan a bit as you begin to suck on it, absorbing the muted salty taste, running your lips up then back down again with hunger.

“This what you wanted?” His tone tame, but deeper with the fighting urge to replace his thumb later on. Your moaning, your head bobs till his thumb is again wet with you, and he doesn’t take his eyes off the way your melting into any and every touch he gives just like that. “That’s it pretty girl..” your man murmurs as he’s then pulling his finger out to pull your panties completely off.

He’s tossing them somewhere else in the suite — and you shed of your slip without hesitation. Timmy gets rid of his pants in a hurry to align himself with you again.

You stay exactly how he had you. Kneeling into the cushion of that couch, bent over and watching his hands softly glide over your body like you’d been glass, but suddenly the firm pressure he puts on your waist as he holds you tight to the tip of his cock comes in. He’s sliding against your wetness, “oh my god..” your voice purrs out quietly and you’re already damn near shaking in his hands. Timothee was trying not to cum just at the sight of you like this. He breathed out, focused on sliding through your slick, but crazily inviting pussy with a deep groan. You collapsing forward into your own hands with a low moan leaving your throat. His girth filling where the former emptiness was.

With a fine exhale, and a heavier sigh that had you clenching around him tighter than he’d ever had you before — Timothee’s brows knit together and his lips form a perfect ‘o’ shape as he views in awe of the way the lips of your cunt take him beautifully. He palmed your ass cheek and runs a hand slovenly through his short curls before he’s fucking into you like you earned every thrust.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you become a puddle of moans and cries pretty quickly. His cock driving into you made your head lighter and lighter untill Timmy was putting his fingers through your locks to make a ponytail and your arching your back even more, taking him even deeper.

“Good girl.. good girl,” he praises with a pant while he’s grinning down at the way you look up at him — and a those doe like eyes, even while making the sluttiest mess on his dick at the moment. You were just heavenly to the man. He kisses your forehead tenderly through the lewd sounds being made between the two of you that echo off the walls, your minx-like smile matches his while you’d been moaning after every snap of Timothee’s hips against your thighs.

“I know you love fucking on me, pretty boy.” Your tittering before your mewls only escalate when you feel Timothee yank your hair tighter into his grip. He suddenly starts rutting into you harder now with a visceral groan. His change of pace made your jaw drop and your face is hitting the cushions like that as you moan louder.

“You already drive me fucking crazy.. but when you say things like that- - oh.. fuck- - when you say things like that..”

You let out a true whine as he makes sure to have your legs spread wide and your ass up so there’s that pure euphoria he’s getting from every stroke of your soaked and pulsing heat sucking him in. Your a puddle of cries, mixed with sputtering whines as you grip the side of the couch and his name is pouring from your lips as your toes begin to curl.

“Oh.. fuck ! That feels s-so good,”

“Yeah ? You like that ? This is what you were being all bratty about, hm ? You just wanted to get your tight- - perfect pussy fucked..”

“Yes, yes, yes- don’t stop, Timmy..”

How he goes harder. His hands showcasing those veins as they run against your hips, gliding his glorious clutch over your tummy to feel himself pounding into you. Your muffled groans getting his cock twitching as he spits out a pattern of curses. Your too cock drunk to even form full thoughts — you only get even dizzier when Timmy reaches to pull you up again so he can hold you close, lips meshing into yours sloppily and you moan into his heated kisses. Lazily darting your tongue out to run against his, and he does it back with the corner of his lips curling into a filthy grin.

Timothee pauses his movements to unconsciously make out with you. The feeling of your swollen lips on his, your hands reaching for his wild curls, you letting him lick over your mouth and moaning into it all was almost too much.

“I love it when you’re this good for me,”

You’re smiling into his kisses, “mmm.. do I make you wanna cum, baby?” your caressing his jaw and he’s stealing more smooches. He can’t stop. Muttering a little “god, you’re too much..” against you before he’s pulling out, scooping you up in his arms, and walking you over to the bed with him. Sly smile on your lips as your holding onto him and he places you against the pillows, delicate hand in his that he kisses profoundly before lying back himself.

“Come ride me, sweet girl,” Timothee eyes flicker over your figure that’s already crawling over him. Straddling his lap with a pampered smirk, your boyfriend makes himself comfortable against the plush comforter. Your hips are aligned with his, gently shaking your hair out of your face as you lean forward to kiss him. He sighs into it with a hand gliding over your spine. Your kiss soft and tender, but with a deep pressure that says a thousand words.

Then your taking your index finger, running it down his chest before you rest it on his abdomen to use as leverage when you slide him inside again. Timmy’s taking a deep and slowly paced breath as he pushes back through your entrance again and your throwing your head back in bliss. “oh.. fuck yes,” you couldn’t get tired of the feeling of when your taking his cock, even if you tried. Every vain, every pulse, stretching you fine. Your movements start out greedy and drawn out as you slide him in and out of you with classic climax chasing whimpers exiting deep from your throat. Timothee watches you gradually pick up in the way you bounce with hooded green eyes sparkling, and his tongue darting out to wet over his lips even while he’s squeezing your sides with all his strength,

“Shit, baby- -you’re making me feel so- so good.. shit,” he huffs, and lets his hands roam over your chest. Groping and rubbing your breast, nipples, till his grip wraps firmly around your neck. You stutter a string of curses. It felt almost too good. Getting what you wanted after all that time. Having his warmest pre-cum dripping from your cunt now. Paradise. Your holding on to his shoulders as you fuck yourself on him with pornographic squeals leaving you after every grind, Timmy groans at the way you make the bed shake and his dick is twitching like crazy inside of you.

He takes your hips and lifts you some so he can thrust up into you, you felt of the best kind of sweetness to him when you got all loose and trembling in desperation to cum on him — and that unleashed all the screams you had pent up for days, weeks.

“Fuck ! Fuck ! Fuck, Timothee ! You’re gonna make me cum..” you’re out of breath, hair going wild as he ruts into you. His jaw clenched, finger nails probably leaving clear marks on your skin, “I’m- - coming, I’m..”

As you were choking on your own gasps and letting go throughout his thrusts, your cunt clenched around your boyfriend’s erection hard as you melt into his chest with a cry and Timothee’s groaning into your ear as he continues to plunge through the creaminess of your core,

“Make a mess on my cock, pretty girl.. that’s it—” his voice vibrates through you and your automatically shaking through the sight of stars you see.

And just when you thought your body would erupt a second time, Timmy was flipping you on your back and palming the bedsheets as his hips slam into yours like he really meant that every last drop he’d let go was gonna be for you. He was getting himself to paint your walls with ropes of his cum at just the right moment to have you scream his name in all types of melodies. “Holy shit.. oh- - fuck!” he’s panting and clutching the wood of the headboard, he shuts his eyes briefly to empty himself into your womb. The last thing you wanted was for him to pull out, and he just couldn’t, not yet.

Instead he’s closing the slightest space between your bodies to hold your lower to his pelvis as he keeps rocking into you slow. Your fingers drag along his cheek as your meshing your lips together in a delicious kiss, moans leaving you. You wanted nothing more than this.

Timothee’s muscles finally rest from their tense state and he’s molding into you, cradling your shivers, and peppering kisses from your jaw to your shoulders. “My god, look at you.. filled with cum. Filled with me. Your so pretty, mon belle,” he’s muttering lazily against your lips with a grin, voice breathy and completely in love. You giggle there softly, knowing your absolutely probably dripping with his seed by now but all you could do was wrap your arms over his shoulders and whine a quiet “stay,” while your pecking his lips again and Timmy chuckles. Kissing on you. Fucking you. Whatever you needed he’s giving it to you. Rolling over on his back, and keeping you, his limp, but gorgeous mess against him.

“Better now?”

“Better.”